Saturday, March 26, 2005
39 bloody hours.
I'm no good at this abstaining malarkey: less than 40 hours into my smug "I'm not going to play with myself" mantra, I was utilising my fingers in the task they perform best at - that is, seeking and acheiving an orgasm for yours truly.
I had such high hopes - I was doing so well: I stumbled in last night drunk and horny and managed to ignore my vibrator looking suggestively sexy and taunting me with it's delicious possibilities.
But this morning, being hung over combined with the raging horn was just too much for me: I frigged myself into oblivion (and felt guilty about it too).
Plus, the frustration I have felt over the (seemingly never-ending) 39 hours resulted in my having to have 5 plays today, to make up for lost time, which was as always, enjoyably pleasant and I think I almost ejaculated (something which has to my eternal sex-fiended frustation, evaded me), since I gushed all over the place.
But it has resulted in Nil Points for me: Zero words on paper. No progression with work. A fucking waste of time.
It's all very well and good having lots of orgasms (and obviously I am crap at trying to abstain from having them), but I hate the fact that I am such a slave to my desires, especially since it's preventing me from focussing on what I need to do.
I really need to get my arse in gear and produce some results soon. Wanking unfortunately just detracts from my ability to do that. If there was a way of turning off my 'on' switch, I'd be grateful to know it: I really am at a loose end right now...