I’m really delighted to welcome back @OxyFromSg (whose erotica you can find at Oxy And Phedre’s Sinful Stories) – a prolific guest blogger who has written stunning posts before on music and sexual memories, making a DIY gloryhole and (my personal favourite) sucking his own cock. Today his post is more topical, focusing on Covid and libido. A total drop in libido was one of the things that alerted him to the fact that something was wrong…
Covid and libido
Just before New Year I got Covid. I was careful and followed all the rules but I still got it. I’m lucky that my case was mild. I had three weeks of feeling like I wanted the world to end but I came out the other side OK.
I’m not going to go into the details about the symptoms, the coughing, or how I felt when I saw the message flash up on my phone that I had caught it, because this isn’t about that. This is about the effect of Covid on my libido.
My libido was actually the first warning sign that something was wrong. I had been sitting at my desk, chatting with a friend on twitter, getting turned on by the conversation that we were having and getting harder by the minute. So, like I have done many times before, I reached down, pulled open my jeans and started having a wank.
But this time it was different.
This time it felt like a chore. I was hard – throbbing even – but it was like my brain wasn’t engaging with my body. Edging didn’t give me any ongoing joy, it just felt like an effort. I could feel that something was wrong. All the horniness drained away and I just… stopped.
I stood up, took four steps and suddenly my legs felt like jelly. I was ice cold.
By the morning I had all the Covid signs and could hardly move.
Over the next two weeks or so I don’t think I had a single sexy thought. Normally if I’m ill I can at least distract myself with a wank or watching some porn or flirting online. This time the fatigue was so bad that I could hardly get out of bed, never mind get off to some audio porn. It was like that part of my brain had been completely turned off and I didn’t know how to switch it back on again.
About two weeks into it I had this conversation online.
Friend: It’s that bad? So if i asked you to jerk off for me?
Me: I wouldn’t be able to do it. Or if it did it might finish me off.
Friend: Fuck, it is serious.
And that’s how it went for another week. Until one morning…
I woke up from a dream about a twitter crush giving me a blow job. Even as I came back to consciousness my hand was already slipping down between my legs and wrapping round my cock. Giving myself a stroke I was delighted to find that instead of boredom or fatigue I got a wave of pleasure flowing through me. Stroking some more I could feel myself sinking back into the bed, relaxing, enjoying the throbbing that I had missed for the last two weeks.
I had only meant to experiment for a moment but then I started to think of the dream and just… edged.
The dream swam around in my head and got mixed up with the building pleasure from each stroke, fantasy and reality coming together to make me thrust into my hand with wild abandon.
Thirty minutes later and all that pent up energy and lust that had been suppressed for two weeks was ready to be released. I came so hard I had to bite my arm so as not to cry out. A task that I must have failed at, as my flatmate banged on the door as they went by and shouted: “I’m guessing you’re feeling better?”
I was. I still felt tired. I was still coughing a little. But it was like my body had given me a sign that I was on the mend.
I reached for my phone, called up twitter and saw my crush had posted something filthy.
My hand slipped down again and I knew that everything was going to be fine.