This post has been in the making for many years but I only recently came to grips with what it really meant.
Despite the built in anonymity of being a blogger there is one area of my life that I have avoided writing about. Today that changes, but first a little bit on why I have been struggling with it.
For the past several years I have been battling with, at least I thought I was, porn addiction. I have all the classic symptoms. Various levels of ED, difficulty in social situations with women and I struggle with intimacy. I am also a lousy lover. According to my wife and previous girlfriends I give amazing oral and I honestly do enjoy bringing a woman to orgasm with my mouth but once my dick is involved everything falls apart.
Well I must have porn induced ED. The cure is to quite porn. So I did. And to be honest it wasn't that difficult. Now I have had relapse's over the past two years but for the most part I stay clean and it's not much of a struggle. Right now I am on my computer at 3am and it would be very easy to find a porn site, but I won't. I quite porn so I should be fine, but it didn't work out that way. Six months clean and the same problems. Relapse and the same problems. What gives.
Turns out my addiction is something different.
As I travel my Red Pill path I look at different things in my life that seem out of place and this past week I finally looked at the giant angry smelling pink elephant in the room.
Clothes. No, not to wear, but in order to understand this I will start from the early beginning.
I, like many guys who became teens in the early 80's, was introduced to my sexuality thru magazines. Playboy and Penthouse were the periodicals of choice. Someone in the neighborhood had one and they made the rounds. They were interesting but never really grabbed me. I wasn't consumed by looking at them like some of the guys. That was until one issue came around. The picture was very simply. A clothed man and women sitting in the back of a limo. They were both lying on the back seat on their sides with their heads propped up on an arm. The guy was in the back and his arm was over the woman in front of him and his hand was firmly placed on her breast. The woman was wearing a gown/dress of some kind that was shiny and silky. Everything about this picture spoke to me. It wasn't just a naked woman. It was a couple who in my mind were getting ready to have sex.
The magazines got more intense over the years but that picture stuck with me. I don't remember all the details of my childhood but I guess I jerked off like most guys on a pretty regular basis and that picture helped. But at some point just cumming started to get boring. It wasn't like sex. It was just me playing with myself until I finished. I wanted to try something more but wasn't sure what to do.
Like most young boys growing up in a rural farming town I didn't have a lot of fancy clothes that needed to be hung up so my empty closet was the storage closet. One day while board and looking for something to do I cam across an outfit in the closet. I can't say exactly what it was, because I don't know, but if pressed it was a very heavy weight robe with a zipper that only ran half way. It was brown with some lines on it but it caught my eye. I was looking at it and eventually placed my hand inside and that was it. Inside was lined with a polyester material. Smooth, shiny, slipper, and full of possibility. Rubbing my hands over it started to give me ideas. The pants dropped and I bundled up a handful of the robe and pushed my hard cock into it. Heaven.
Over time I would develop a system. I would take the robe and turn it inside out. Stuff it full of pillows and then dry hump it on my bed. I probably came on that thing hundreds of times if not thousands of times. I wasn't just masturbating. I was having sex. I was on top of my sex doll pumping my hips and it was as close to real thing as I would ever get for many years. It also became the only way I would be able to cum.
As the years passed the old robe was replaced by a winter coat. Similar to the modern puffy coat it was lined with a nylon/polyester material and felt great. This practice went on for a long time. One weekend my college room mate went home for the weekend and I spent it fucking the coat he left behind.
I want to point out that at no point in any of this did I think I had a problem. I was horny, wanted to cum, and this is how I did it. It was entertaining and enjoyable and didn't have an impact on other areas of my life.
My next big phase shift happened when I was probably around 15 or 16. My parents had friends who owned a store in Ocean City NJ. Above the store was an apartment they would rent out and my parents took everyone for a week. Mid week my parents invited another married couple over to spend a few days at the beach with us. They had been friends since high school. Everyone was about the age I am now. The woman of the other couple was very nice and everyone got along. I don't remember her name or what she really looked like but I remember what she wore to the beach. It was shiny blue one piece bathing suit. The bottom was a typical fitted type and upper was like a lose fitting tube top. I'm sure there is an official name for this but I don't know or care.
She was in good shape, as I remember, but nothing really stood out that would have physically drawn me to her like the women in the magazines. What kept my attention, however, was the suit. The way the light shinned off, how soft and smooth it looked. I couldn't think about anything but wanting to put my hands on her. Not really her specifically, but anyone wearing it. Other than me constantly trying to look at her while not being caught looking at her it was a usual day at the beach. We went back to the house and everyone started to get cleaned up. For those without ocean experience it's typically a two step process to clean up after a day at the beach. The first is to use an outdoor shower to clean off all the sand and salt water before going in the house followed by an actual shower to clean off the rest. Like most kids I was avoiding leaving the beach and wound up being last to take my shower.
When I got into the bathroom I got undressed and started the water for my shower. I rinsed out my suit in the sink and hung it on the shower rod like everyone else. Yes, everyone else hung their suits there including hers. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of wanting to do something but I couldn't think of what first. I won't pretend that I remember all the details but some of the highlights were touching it, licking it, wearing it and rubbing my hands over myself and eventually cumming on it.
The next day was another day at the beach and she wore the suit again. I was consumed with the idea that she was wearing something that I had cum on. I cleaned up any evidence but I know what was there. The second day ended just like the first.
Ever since that day I have been trying to recreate the experience. Much if not all of my spandex/bathing suit fetish comes from that day.
To bring us all back to today I have spent the last 30 years cumming on different types of clothing. Porn is not my problem, this is.
My last reboot when I swore off porn was like all the others. I said I wouldn't watch anymore and that was it. No big deal or fan fair or anything. Right after doing that, however, I took one of my wife's bathing suits and jerked off with it. But that's not a reboot, right. So I said no more masturbation either. Then I took my wife's suit again and just edged for about an hour. But then it dawned on me that maybe it's not the porn or masturbation that's the problem but how I'm doing it so I decided to collect up the items I had been using to do this with and throw them away and that's when I found my addiction.
The first time I tried to do this it didn't work. I actually went thru the trash and dug it out. It smelled like rancid food and was wet from something else that was in the trash but I stilled jerked off with it. This clearly had a bigger hold on me than I wanted to admit. This is what an addiction is.
So that's where i am today, right now. The last vestige of these items are some lingerie that my wife keeps in her drawer. She won't ever wear them but they are always there and I need to get rid of them. I can admit that as long as they are in the house I won't have the strength to resist.
One other thing I am coming to terms with is why am I doing this. I'm not able to have sex and my wife doesn't want to have sex. That seems like a win win for everyone. But I need to keep reminding myself that I'm not doing this for today, but for the future when I hope to have a normal sex life with someone who enjoys being with me. I really doubt it will be with my current wife but at some point in the not so distant future I will be with someone who wants me, and will do what I need to now so I can be with them.