Author: PSLabs

Maximus . . . Optimus

braveneworld's review and endorsement of the maximus classic (https://www.aneros.com/forum/discussion/16763/progasm-jr-vs-maximus#Item_2) convinced me to buy one. As I imagined, the maximus and MGX have a lot in common because of their similar shapes. Both have an assertive presence; I can't forget either of them is in there. The main difference I feel is the MGX is more insistent. It demands attention in a way the maximus doesn't. braveneworld succinctly described it with the phrase “hugs you inside and out.”

I 've been using the maximus almost exclusively since receiving it. I've had fewer dud sessions than before, and the non-dud ones get cooking faster and get into super-O territory more frequently. Maybe I'm getting more adept at lighting the fuse on my orgasm, and getting the maximus simply coincides with that. Or maybe the maximus is 100% responsible for my increased success. More likely it's some of both.

Increased success brings increased confidence. I used to see my orgasm as a precious, delicate thing, and I avoided doing anything that might disturb it. Now I find myself more willing to try flexing internal muscles during the incipient or in-progress orgasm. An inept squeeze might ruin everything, but it's never more than a temporary disappointment. I still don't have an orgasm cheatcode, but the first levels of the game are familiar. Read more »

Golly! That crazy gizmo really works!

Yeah, that night last week was pretty weird. It's a week later now, and I can't really see the reason why that was. Several of my experiences with prostate massage have been colored by temporary apprehension and uncertainty. That's not a bad thing. You don't make progress if you never leave your comfort zone.

The a-less orgasm is the worst tease I've known. I can get it started with some consistency, but my skills are not strong enough to maintain it or really crank it up. The times when an a-less glides into a few contractions or jumps to an abdominal clench are nice surprises. My a-less experiences are taking a path remarkably parallel to the path my a-full ones were taking just a few weeks ago.

My sessions are steadily becoming more satisfying by introducing a little auto-foreplay. I like to start with some porn, encouraging an a-less orgasm to simmer, and, if it wants, surge to a gut-busting spasm. I resist inserting until a few drops of pre-cum dribble out of my cock.

Last night was the best session I've had yet. I've been hesitant to use the “super-O” label for myself. I figured that was for people who'd worked much harder than I have–people with skills much more developed than mine. I have no doubt last night's session qualifies. Several prior sessions would have qualified, in fact, but last night's was all that and a bag of chips. Read more »

No sleep

I started a session just before going to bed. This never works out for me. I drift off to sleep before anything gets started.

It worked out this time, though. Fuck me running, did it work out.

I felt a slow pulsing at my anus that maintained a persistent stimulation, and a much slower internal stroking that triggered a wave every forty seconds, I estimate, that amplified the stimulation. The two different internal contractions kept their slow, relentless paces, escalating my arousal to levels I hadn't thought possible.

I now understand what “do nothing” means. In previous sessions, there were points where sensations would start evaporating, and I'd contract something or pluck something else to get things rolling again. This time was very different. Nothing needed doing. The only moments of exertion were when the stimulation got a little unstable, and I fought my body's reflexive need to fold in half at the abdomen.

One of those instabilities got too strong for me. I released a low, sad whimper. My body spontaneously crumpled up like a paper ball, and did not unwad itself for many seconds.

After acknowledging that one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life had really happened, I started dreaming without being entirely asleep. This was a familiar sign that the session was over, and I should clean up and get some sleep. I still had a residual tingle, and thought it would be like a delightful warm breeze to waft me into unconsciousness. Read more »

Weak week, strong end

Things work well for me on Sundays. Other days, not so much.

During sessions on post-work weekday evenings, after an initial jolt and a fast spazzy run-up to a pale, weak, anemic orgasm, I didn't get much going. Any waves that came around felt like two or three dissonant notes that warbled around but never quite synced into one pure tone. When I got that far, I either couldn't relax well, or I relaxed too well and fell asleep.

That's not entirely bad. A quick early evening nap is pretty satisfying in its own way.

I don't completely understand what my problem was on this Saturday, or previous Saturdays. Figure it should have been a good time for recreational activity, especially one like this that is, so to speak, open-ended. Perhaps because I see Saturday as my day to finish the previous five days of neglected tasks, that's carrying over into areas where it's not useful.

But Sunday was delightful. I get three sessions in, starting almost as soon as I awoke, and none of them was a real dud. Each session on its own feels good enough to make me come back for more. I can't yet achieve waves consistently, but even my inconsistently occurring and short-lived ones are astounding. Read more »

A fight worth losing

Monday May 4 and Tuesday May 5 closely followed the pattern of Sunday's session: a series of rapid-onset small orgasms, an abrupt calmness that introduced a slow buildup to not-quite-orgasm, and a gradual decompression to the end. The only notable change was that the good tingles got cooking within only a couple minutes of starting.

I believed I was getting the hang of this thing. Tuesday through Saturday cured me of that notion. I just couldn't get anything going. I'd have a small blast of intense pleasure after a couple minutes, and that was it. Sessions ended when I either fell asleep or got bored.

That was frustrating at the time, but I think each session was still a useful experience. I gained a sense of when things aren't working out, and I learned that bailing out of a dud session isn't the same as failure.

Sunday May 10 was wonderful. I burned up half the day in three remarkable sessions.

On that day, I acquired a surprising tendency to vocalize. Previously, except for a pained grunt at climax, I've never made much noise at all during sex. Now I'm making so much noise it might start affecting where I can live.

During one of Saturday's sessions, I was attacked by a gang of five or six orgasms, and they gave me no recovery time between beatings.

“Wha? Another one?”
“Still not done!”
“Here we go again!”
“Fffffuuuuu!” Read more »

First time in years, and first time ever

On May 3, I set to try the “do nothing” method. I lay on my back with knees up, and waited for whatever sensations might visit.

Doing nothing wasn't strenuous, but the minimal effort still got to me. My legs fatigued, so I stretched out and lay flat.

An odd, tiny tickle occurred somewhere in my abdomen. I didn't think anything of it, but it was intruding on my focus. Just to make it go away, I rotated my hips backward, raising my lower back a little off the bed. I held there for a second until the tickle dissipated, then flattened myself back out. The tickle returned, so I rotated my hips again, waited a moment, and flattened again. That repeated a couple more times. Then a most peculiar thing happened.

My hips kept up the slow rocking motion after I decided to stop. It was going at a frequency of about one cycle every ten seconds. I wasn't making it happen, but it was still happening. Of course, I could have made it stop, but I chose not to, mostly because things started feeling pretty good. The familiar tingle of early-stage orgasm had sneaked up on me, and it was growing. After a few more pumps, my pelvis spazzed and drove my cock upward, just like when a girl's on top and I'm thrusting it into her all the way to the hilt.

Holy hell! That was an orgasm! Read more »

Mistakes Can Have Good Results

Still catching up with the history. At this point it was the end of April and the beginning of May 2015. My sessions were still centered on deliberate deep breathing and refining muscle movement.

During two sessions, about a half-hour in, I could feel a rush somewhere behind my balls. It was similar to the feeling I get when I start gently stroking my cock head. Nothing too exciting; just a little something. The sensation evaporated and slowly returned, but slightly amplified, similar to the feeling I get when I continue gently stroking. Then it went away and did not return. I relaxed more in hopes of luring it back, but I fell asleep.

Sleep has been a real obstacle for me. Many times I've been focused on relaxing, then realized my ongoing mental narrative had wandered off into dreaming. I don't believe “alert” and “relaxed” should be mutually exclusive states, and I continue to search for the balance between them. Advice would be welcome.

The training material puts special emphasis on not touching your cock during a session. Touching at the end of a session or after a session is fine, but not during. My original interpretation of this advice was that adding penile stimulation risked setting up ejaculation as a conditioned response to rectal stimulation. I wanted to avoid that so badly that I tried to exclude erections. When I felt my cock stiffen, I slowed everything down until it went away. Read more »

Step 2: Go back to step 1, dumbass.

Insertion has never been an issue. I learned long ago how to do that without discomfort. I learned that my body can occasionally be fussy and uncooperative, and coercing it into submission is never useful or satisfying. Stoicism is a loathsome quality.

I started regular practice with the helix in April 2015. Practice sessions have been been easily integrated into my daily schedule, and have provided good reasons to abandon some less rewarding activities.

Much of the aneros new-user training material is devoted to breathing. The advice “keep breathing” is ubiquitous within the literature, and the word “relax” echoes endlessly. My first sessions were application of this advice.

Establishing and maintaining a comfortable deep-breathing cadence required more concentration and effort than I would have thought. I learned that I have a tendency to stop breathing while examining sensations. My mind presses a notional pause button to freeze the action and investigate. Some of my novel internal tingles at this first stage were partially attributable to mild hypoxia.

The second style of advice I found in the training material is that deliberate squeezing of muscles is not useful. My first tries with the MGX had obviously gone off the rails from the start, but I don't believe it was pointless. So long as the trainee understands that tensing muscles is not an orgasm cheatcode, the urge to flex should not be discouraged. Coarse movement is a necessary step in identifying separate muscles and refining their control. Read more »

Tell me what you remember about…

I have difficulty maintaining journals and blogs, but I do enjoy writing them. The tension between creating an accurate, clinical record of events and embellishing them into a readable narrative creates a unique thrill. I think this one deserves to start with a splash of personal history.

Anal play has always been a part of my sexual life. Long ago, while hanging out at a girlfriend's house after school, she abruptly told me to take off my pants and lay down on my stomach. I asked for some explanation, and she revealed a long, fat, tapered candle she had silently retrieved from the dining room. My eager compliance with her demand frightened both of us a little. Our second penetrative experience together was, in two ways, a literal inversion of the first.

I first learned about aneros through a written story many years ago–so many that it might have been in a print magazine. The story was told in the perspective of a man in a BDSM relationship. His domina plugged a bizarrely curled plastic dong she named “aneros” into him, then issued a series of commands to tense and release his sphincter. He repeatedly begged for permission to orgasm, but she ordered him not to. Predictably, the story ended with a moment of disobedience and a fountain of semen.

The story planted the name of the apparatus in my mind. The hands-free orgasm was less interesting than being able to cum in quarts. After all, ejaculation is the whole point of orgasm, and more of one must mean more of the other, right? Read more »