The Spot

I think I’ve begun to make a dent into my obsessive house cleaning. It started with a spot of spilled tea on the kitchen counter I chose not to wipe away. When I decided to do so, I asked myself, why would you do this? But I did not want to think about it really, so I just left the spot. John usually does not take up a sponge to clean up as our chores are precisely defined (his is his work), which made the spot stay for four full days. Whenever I saw it, I thought it was odd, because although it existed, my life did not tumble down. After four days I cleaned it up. Later I sat on the couch smiling and John asked me what amused me so much. When I told him, he had to laugh and admitted that he had not even realized the spot at all. But for me, it was a kind of turning point.

I have come to think about my obsessive house cleaning because I watched a TV show about hoarders vs. cleaners. When one man who was a cleaner was portrayed, he said that his childhood was full of abuse and that’s why he can’t stand any clutter or dirt around. That cut deep as I think it could have been me stating that. Tidying up the outside is a way to tidy up the inside I guess. The more dirt is in my house, the more nervous I get because I think I’m losing control over my life. So tidying up is the attempt to stay in charge of my life. When I’m confronted with bad memories, I usually start to clean over-efficient. It’s ridiculous, but it worked for many years. And I think this is connected to my years on the street where you can’t do any other than getting used to dirt and smelling. That’s why I’d rather take a shower twice a day than to risk that someone could smell me through my deodorant. It’s just like I still feel dirty. Actually I know I’m not dirty just because my father did what he did, but he made me dirty and made me feel dirty. And he initiated the thoughts of myself as a filthy person. I sometimes made a joke of it: it’s better to clean up that to be depressed. But that was stupid. I was depresssed. Perhaps I’m still. Perhaps it’s good to start up with a little spot of tea on the kitchen counter. I wouldn’t have done that a few weeks ago. Something has changed and I’m afraid of what will come.


Still chaste

It’s been 52 days now since my last orgasm in Zürich. In the meantime I could cope with being kept chaste very well and had not a strong desire, but for a week now or so I’m really horny. Love has invented a new game to increase my horniness without helping me getting over it. He has stopped fucking me and uses a very small tool of perhaps 8 cm instead. So he can claim that I’ve gotten fucked and that it’s my own fault if I’m still horny. That really increases my sexual frustration and that makes me feel sad. I have started to do exercises in the morning and run about 3 miles a day back in March and I still practise Yoga, but all this won’t help. Master has pondered aloud on the question whether he will keep my desire unfulfilled until our wedding day, so that it would be a nice present for me to cum again. Ugh!

Another thing that’s been around is an uncertain feeling of being rejected because Love never sucks me off. I know it’s stupid and John has made it clear from the very beginning that he’d be the one to put things into me and that I’d always be the guy to receive things from him, but it would mean very much to me if he did suck me off. Love asked me whether I’m in doubt about our BDSM-relationship, but I’m not. A part of me just thinks it might be a sign of love if he did. And sure I liked being sucked off in former days, before I met John. I haven’t had passive oral sex for about three and a half years now, apart from one occasion John allowed me a few seconds. I feel like our relationship has changed a lot in the past few month and altough I’m still the passive and submissive man I used to be, I feel rejected. And although being kept chaste is helpful for me in a few aspects, I have started to think about whether or not I still want it. I tend to masturbate obsessively, but I feel I have understood why I did. It was a simple way to release pressure and it was better than injuring myself or drinking or whatever I did to come down, but it seems the physical exercises take a lot of this inner pressure from me. I just feel like I want to take back that responsibility and to be free to decide whether I not I want to climax. But would it make me feel happier? I do not know yet.

I had a great conversation about desire and masturbation with a man who practises Zen and he said, he just realizes his horniness or stiffy and then waits until it’s over. He said he just lets it pass by and so he’s not obsessed with thoughts of sex. I don’t know if I could ever be that strong-minded, but I thought he was cool. He also said that he would have a lot more energy now for his everyday life.


Last weekend my Love and I went hiking again. It was quite a long trip (5 hrs) and we took something to eat and drink with us. We found a nice place near a little creek and sat by the running water, eating, cuddling and talking. I feel so safe with John. Sometimes I feel like a child again, who looks up to his Dad who explains the world to him. In fact, I seem to understand a lot more of the world now than I ever did before. John is very smart and good in explaining things to others and I love listening to him. His view often changes my perception. I guess I’ve grown a lot more self-confident since we met. For the first time in my life I know for sure that there is someone standing behind me, even if he doesn’t like every little thing I do or say. I really feel at home.

At the moment, I am not very horny and can accept being kept in chastity very well. I do not ponder on sex very often, although I still really like to service my Love and do it every day, sometimes more than once. I feel very good in my role as a submissive to-be-husband and housekeeper. Sometimes I think of quitting my job in the shop, but I won’t do so because I like work and my co-workers and would miss them. And, as my brother puts it, it is a chance for me to earn my own money as I have refused to accept our father’s heritage.

Sometimes John and I visit gay clubs, but most times I just watch him with the other guys. It’s still ticklish and I’m still a bit jealous, but I enjoy watching John having fun. It’s good to crawl into this arms when we’re home again. Just to know I’m the one the chose to live with.

Next week John will spend three days in the U.S. and I did not want to accompany him because of the long flight. It will be the first time I’ll try to be alone at home. W and S already offered to come over if I’d find out that I feel bad alone, but at the moment I feel like I’ll be able to handle it. I have planned to read and sketch a lot, perhaps even outside if the weather stays that fine.

My life is beautiful at the moment. I wish it could go on forever like this 🙂