Tag: penis

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Objects are larger than they appear

Yes, we’re still alive over here.

Belle did let me out. I wanted it but at the same time didn’t. In any event, I took the key and removed the device and was free. That was as we went to bed, so I slept and woke several times due to the weird feeling of having a cock that could feel the sheets rub against it.

The next day, my pants felt empty. You get used to sporting a certain kind of package and when it’s gone, you notice. I was free all that day and again the next night. Even so, I didn’t feel the need to take advantage of the situation. There was no urge to. I was still out of touch with my own sex drive.

The next morning, Belle told me she had her period. She didn’t say it, but I knew that meant I should be locked up again. Back when I wasn’t essentially permanently locked, it was a rule that I had to be protected while she was having her period. That morning, before I put the device back on, I finally felt the desire to play with myself. It wasn’t that big of a deal. No toys or anything, but there was a moderate amount of stroking leading me up very, very close to the edge of orgasm. So close, that I found myself with at least a tablespoon of thick ejaculate in my hand. And how did I know that wasn’t an orgasm? Because I swallowed every bit of it. I ran it around in my mouth, so slick over my tongue, and felt it thick in my throat for an hour afterward. And I wanted more. A lot more. So no, I didn’t come. Then the device went back on and there it’s stayed. Belle has the key again and shows no interest in letting me have it back any time soon.

An interesting observation from my morning self-abuse, though. One of the things you’ll read on the web is that chastity devices make your dick smaller. I’ve always felt it was crap. And I still do, but I may know where the idea comes from. While I was stroking myself and feeling the cock get as long and as hard as it could get, it felt smaller to me than I remember it being. Now, I don’t have a big dick to begin with. It’s perfectly average in length and girth, but I could have sworn it had shrunk. I even got the tape measure out to make sure, but it was still exactly the same size as before (about 5.75″ long).

The thing is, as I said above, you get used to swinging a big steel tube between your legs. So much so that, when it’s gone, the contents feel much less imposing by comparison. It may not get longer when I’m excited, but the tube is always fat and stout. It’s easily twice as big around as the engorged cock and, while shorter, it carries a certain gravitas that mere meat cannot attain. Whatever memory I had of what my former cock felt like had been somewhat displaced by the steel tube.

And here’s the next bit of surprising info. When I was sure the cock had gotten smaller, I wasn’t all that concerned about it. As a guy, you’re conditioned to obsess over the size of your member. But, as the kind of guy I’ve become, it doesn’t really matter. The cock simply isn’t a regular player anymore. The only thing I worried about was that it may not be enough to satisfy Belle. But really, the idea that I was being made smaller and less…I don’t know…prominent seemed perfectly normal. To be expected. The cock isn’t that big of a deal anymore, so why shouldn’t it be minimized in every way? I’ve even started to like the idea that a lot of guys are bigger.

Of course, I’m glad it’s not getting smaller. I’m glad it’s exactly as it was before being encased almost all the time. But I’m clearly kinking on the idea of nullification. The idea that my penis should be made superfluous and of minimal importance, figuratively and literally. It’s an odd little cul-de-sac of my sexuality I didn’t expect to find myself in. And I wonder, all those guys who say they’ve lost size due to being in devices, if it’s not all in their heads. If it’s not a combination of wanting it to be that way and, because they’ve lost touch with themselves, thinking it actually is.

So, anyway, the turbulence I wrote about the other day hasn’t entirely left. I have lost touch with myself. With my independent sexuality. I know it must still be in there, but it’s way in the back somewhere. So, without that, I need Belle’s. I need to feel sexual through her. And when I don’t, it feels like something’s been amputated. Something really important. And its loss leaves me aching and depressed. I’m not entirely sure what will become of me. On the one hand, I’m committed to this existence. I’m quite convinced that I don’t need to ever have another orgasm. On the other hand, while I can live without the orgasms, I can’t live without being sexual. It’s more than the old saying that chastity isn’t abstinence. Of course it’s not. But I really feel that a transference is taking place. I have adopted her sexuality almost entirely in the place of mine. If this turns out to be the case and if it’s permanent, I don’t know what will happen. Right now, I can feel parts of me resisting it. But there are other parts of me that want to keep going.

The other night, I was dry humping her leg and, when I would usually say something like, “God, I want to fuck you,” I said, “God, I want to feel you come.” I guess that’s a perfectly natural thing for a guy with no cock and no ability to achieve independent arousal to say. What else is there now except her pleasure and, ultimately, her orgasm?

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A wee bit o’ nerdery

A couple of chastity nerdery items…

First, I’ve switched to a higher gauge PA ring. Not sure what gauge it is (maybe 8), but it’s way thinner than my 4ga ring. I’ve found that the lighter, thinner ring is significantly quieter in the tube than the heavier one. I primarily went to 4 ga for the looks, but I can’t see it in the tube anyway, right? The only slight downside to the higher gauge ring is that I can remove and replace the ball without tools, however that’s really a moot point since I can’t get the ring into a position where the ball is accessible anyway. I figure for those few and far between times I’m not locked up, I can always put the bigger ring back in.

Second, I have a new method for carrying around an emergency key. We’ve tried a couple of different methods in the past that usually involved the key being taped in a tamper-resistent way and carried around in my wallet, but I’ve worried about the key (a rather long and spindly thing) breaking. Also, whenever we’ve needed to use mine (since she’s lost hers a few times), it’s involved a bit of effort getting it back into tamper-resistant mode.

Yesterday, I picked up a little combination key safe. It’s light and made of plastic and uses a custom combination only Belle knows (the wire loop is for attaching it to a doorknob or something – totally useless for me so I might cut it off at some point). She wrote the combination on a piece of paper that was then wrapped in tape and stickers, etc., so that I couldn’t get into it without her knowing. The safe goes in my computer bag (which is nearly always with me) and the number goes in my wallet (and she gets to see it on demand). On the plus side, I can store the keys to both her locks in it so I know I always have the right one with me. On the minus side, in my bag isn’t quite so close as in my wallet, so there’s a better (though slight) chance I may need it one day and not have access.

In other news, we’re thinking of getting a second device. Well, fourth device actually since the Steelheart is the third after the two CB6Ks, but I don’t count the plastic anymore since Belle far prefers the look and feel of the steel and will likely never make use of the others again. In any event, this time we’re considering the Steelworxx Looker 01 (who came up with that name?). It’s an open cage style which will help with hygiene, but it’s most notable feature is an integrated hollow urethral tube. This would obviously make urinating way easier, and I presume is also a security feature since it extends past the A-ring, but I’m not sure of the practicality of wearing something like that over the long haul. It’s more expensive than the Steelheart, but I think I may be able to get it cheaper as I wouldn’t need an A-ring or lock since it uses the same types as the other Steelworxx devices. Also, with the euro trading so closely to the dollar now, there’s never been a better time.

The image from the Steelworxx site shows an incredibly short cage. They say the tube should measure the same size as the flaccid penis it’s meant to secure, but that would make it quite a bit smaller than the Steelheart tube I wear now. While the “flaccid length” of a given penis is highly variable, a reasonable measurement of mine is about 34 mm in diameter and 85 mm long. The Steelheart is 35 mm across and 105 mm long. Twenty extra millimeters in length seems like a huge difference. That’s about 6 mm narrower than the cock when erect and about 65 or so millimeters shorter. I’ve never worn any device that small with a hard-on. I’m not even sure it’s possible.

Another new thing I hope to be experimenting with soon is a solid penis plug. The idea being that one way to ruin an orgasm is to keep the ejaculate from escaping the body either by pressing a thumb down with force over the slit (which, by the way, is called the meatus – who knew?) or by pinching the shaft closed just under the head (apparently, the ejaculate gets redirected into the bladder). I’m wondering if this is a way for Belle to enjoy her cock while not having to worry if I come as a result. I’ve never tried to have an orgasm in this way so I don’t know what it’ll feel like nor have I ever used a penis plug so I’m not even sure I can get it in there. Either way, it wasn’t that expensive. As soon as we get a chance to use it, I’ll let you know.

I thought I’d mention those last two things to get the perspective of any readers who have experienced anything similar or just want to spout off with their point of view. So, you know, feel free.

UPDATE: In poking around the Steelworxx site, I noticed they now offer a Thumper-style PA fixing (though that’s not what it’s called). Cool!

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Alien flesh

Penises are spatially variable things. They get bigger, they get smaller, they’re hard then soft, they twirl around and get squished and squashed. Their friends, the testicles, are the same way. They move around all on their own and, like octopi, have the strange ability to fit into the narrowest spaces. Sometimes, the scrotum splays out like a jellyfish that swallowed a couple soft-boiled eggs, while other times it’s like a tight, wrinkly little meatball. Frankly, it’s all very weird and random.

This is top of mind as I’m still out of the device and have only just reacclimated to all the ways this strange appendage behaves. When you’re in a chastity device, everything is more or less static. Yes, things tighten up and feel different from time to time, but by and large, they don’t actually look any different (unless, of course, your device is see-through). When your cock is in a big steel tube, it’s the big steel tube you have to deal with all the time. The cock eventually fades into the background, especially since it’s out of site. And while the balls are still out there, the A-ring tends to shepherd them into very reliable configurations. The phrase “a place for everything and everything in it’s place” comes to mind.

To be honest, being out is a big distraction. I was locked up for almost a month and dealing with that condition became second nature. While I appreciate the flexibility a free cock has (both physically and in application), trapping it in a device makes it a known, fixed variable. And of course, temptation stays at bay.

It’s like when your best friend across the street from when you were a kid went away for half the summer. You missed him at first and learned to have fun without him and of course always looked forward to his return. But when he did get back, you had to readjust all the things you figured out how to do when he was gone. The dynamic between you and your other non-best friends had to shift around to make room for him again. That’s how it is now with free meat. Suddenly, it’s back and demands attention. I’m not supposed to play with it, but it’s very insistent.

There’s a part of me that really misses the confinement, even though it’s only been five days of freedom. I like the controlled feeling of device. I like feeling her control. I’ve been wearing the A-ring off and on as a reminder and think I’ll leave it on permanently now. It simply feels too weird not having something down there, even if it leaves the cock free to be a strange alien thing.

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A year of piercedness

Subtitle: In which Thumper overshares regarding his penile piercing.

Susan’s Pet left this in the comments recently:

I just want to remind you that your anniversary of your PA piercing is coming up. I am not saying what you should do, but, you know, giving thanks where thanks are due would be all right.

First things first. How thoughtful of you, remembering like that! It totally would have gone over my head you not said something. Second, I’m not sure where thanks are due (other than to the skilled professional that punched a hole in my urethra to begin with and Belle for being OK with letting it happen), but sure, I’m giving them.

I suppose it’s not a bad time to stop and elaborate a bit on what living with a Prince Albert piercing it like. However, I think it’s also worth noting that the one attached to me is not your typical pierced cock. Most notably, of course, is the fact that (especially recently) it’s been safely ensconced in some kind of chastity device for the majority of the time. I suspect normal guys would have slightly different experiences.

So here’s the good stuff.

  • It’s really hot.
  • It’s a beautiful thing.
  • Under the right conditions, it allows for a more secure enforced chastity experience.

 
Of course, the first two points are totally subjective. I think a cock with a thick stainless hoop through the end is incredi-fucking-sexy. Belle, apparently, is OK with it but hasn’t ever let on that she’s as enamored of it as I am. As for the chastity security, as I’ve written fairly extensively, it doesn’t work for me the same way it works for most people (that is, with a cable strung though the hoop outside the tube and affixed by the device’s lock). When the Steelheart comes back with its custom PA fixing, I believe security will be pretty near perfect, but it’s taken me a year of trial and error to figure that out.

Now, the negatives.

  • Peeing is not as straightforward as before. I used to be able to pee through the CB6K at a urinal with a high degree of success, but the extra hole in the dick and the disruption of the stream by the jewelry has forever removed that option. Even when not locked, extra care has to be taken to ensure that the piss doesn’t splash back onto my pants or that a second stream doesn’t get started spraying in an odd direction. The funny thing about piss is, since it’s at your body temperature, you can’t always be sure where it’s going without keeping an eye on it. I’ve become fairly adept at successfully using a urinal (while unlocked, of course), but, just like border patrolling, the order of the day is “constant vigilance”. While we’re on the subject, I can also report that another quirky aspect of peeing while pierced is that separate streams can form from each hole (mostly through the natural one, of course) and the new hole is positioned perfectly to douse my scrotum when I’m sitting down. The way to avoid that is pretty much the same thing I do when standing up. By placing my finger behind the hole and pushing a bit of foreskin against the piercing, it will usually block the hole enough to make the stream just a steady drip. Now you know more than you ever wanted about the urination habits of Prince Albert.
  • On the relatively rare occasions I’ve had to masturbate with the ring in, I’ve found that it’s pretty easy to aggravate the tissue around and inside the urethra. For a long time, I assumed that this would go away in time as the flesh toughened up, but as Belle’s aggressive milking demonstrated just the other night, it appears to be a permanent risk. It’s entirely possible, I suppose, that a guy with a more normal masturbation schedule (or, for that matter, more plentiful opportunities to use his cock in any number of ways I can’t) would find the discomfort subsiding eventually, but that guy’s not me by a long shot. I find that if I leave my pointer finger more relaxed while masturbating and let it pass over or just graze the ring that the sensation is even more enjoyable than before I was pierced, but if I attempt to jack off the old fashioned way (all five fingers evenly grasping), I’m asking for trouble. Since the piercing healed, I haven’t experienced any discomfort from fucking, but then again, I also can’t say being pierced has significantly improved that sensation.

 
Currently, I mostly wear a 4ga trapped-ball ring. I started out at 8ga, slipped back to 10ga due to an unfortunate accident, then clicked up to 6ga for quite a while. I don’t think I’ll go above 4ga. I think anything bigger would look out of proportion. The thickness of 4ga is just about perfect, IMO.

After ten HNThumpers, I’ve never actually shown “the full monty”, as it were. I’ve shown the 6ga ring in detail, I’ve shown the cock obscured and distorted and secured (twice), but in trying to respect the “half nekkid” part of the HNT, I’ve never shown you the entire package in a straightforward way. Until today. I figure, after writing in nearly 900 words about my PA piercing, it’s only fair to let you take a peek. So here you go. Obviously, NSFW.

In balance, I have to say after my first year of piercedness that I’m happy I did it. It can be a bit of a pain causing complications and discomfort, but at the end of the day, I find it so hot that it’s totally worth living with the negative consequences.

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Technical difficulties

Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word.
Benjamin: Yes, sir.
Mr. McGuire: Are you listening?
Benjamin: Yes, I am.
Mr. McGuire: Plastics.
Benjamin: Just how do you mean that, sir?

The past few days, I’ve been having issues. Specifically, odd feelings from inside the tube of the chrome CB6K. Pinching, sensitivity, soreness, etc. Belle had left the key in the house, but hidden, so I couldn’t really see what the deal was (the tube being all metallically reflective and all), but I felt I had the situation in hand (so to speak).

Early this morning, I awoke to an intense itchiness. It was driving me up the fucking wall. Down on the right side of the shaft, just above the head, it itched like a motherfucker. I’ve had the occasional isolated itch before, but nothing like this. Had the Geneva Convention considered enforced male chastity, itchiness of this magnitude would have been banned by all civilized nations.

I sent an email to Belle who I figured might be getting ready for bed on her side of the planet saying, in short, I need that key. Every day so far that she’s been gone, she’s called at about 7:00 AM while the kids were getting ready for school, but not today. Of course, not today. And no response to my email. I proceeded to turn the house over looking for that key. Good news, I suppose, is she didn’t leave it in any of her previous hiding places. Regardless, after a short while, I lucked-out and found the key inside a thing in a drawer in the kitchen. As quickly as possible, I was in her bedroom, pulling the device from my body.

Besides the itchy patch, I can see at least three other spots where the skin has been irritated and rubbed raw. In addition, there’s another of those weird little penis pimple things forming on the glans. Basically, the inside of the chrome tube is just not finished very well. There’s apparent overspray from the painting process that, as I mentioned right after I got it, leaves the interior unacceptably rough for long-term wear. A day or three doesn’t seem to be an issue, but I’m going on a week and a half now and the damage has been done. Besides the roughness, it also continues to rub color onto my skin turning it black in spots (and, apparently, causing penis pimples).

Yeah, real fucking sexy.

Were I not damaged, I’d put the old clear tube back on and try to forget about the key. The Steelheart is winging its way back to the Fatherland for a smaller ring, so it’s no help. In any event, I’m in no condition to be packing plastic at the moment. Maybe in a few days, but not now. Funny thing is, I may as well still be locked up since, in its current state, playing with the damned thing would be too painful.

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Belle’s dream

Belle woke up Sunday morning to tell me about a dream she just had. In it, I had taken some kind of drug or something that had caused the cock and testicles to detach from my body (separately) and “slink off” onto the bed where they curled up next to each other. Also, I was mad because we were going somewhere and I was getting dressed in a loud plaid shirt with a reversible belt that was a matching plaid on one side and a solid color on the other. I was upset over not knowing which side of the belt to wear with the shirt, but not so much that my reproductive organs were napping on the bed like two little kittens.

Dreams are weird, man.

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Four (mostly) unrelated things

Here’s a post that starts on the other end of the day.

Belle usually wakes up kinda early. Five-thirty, or thereabouts, and once up, she immediately gets on her computer and starts clickity-clacking. I’ve trained myself to fall back asleep after her alarm (and first snooze, and second snooze, and third snooze) goes off, usually by snuggling up against her while she replies to all the email she’s picked up overnight.

This morning was a little different. For whatever reason, I woke up and didn’t find her sitting up with her laptop. Even in my groggy state, I realized it was a rare opportunity for some mid-week morning snuggle time and wrapped myself around her (of course, in a way that respected her personage and all that).

She laid there, stroking my head, and said, “Thanks for putting me in charge, Thumpie.” Just like that. Thanks for putting me in charge. I hadn’t said boo to her up to that point. It was entirely unsolicited.

I was dealing with the typical morning chastity tube issues, but upon hearing these words, my issues were suddenly bigger (or trying to be). Besides the physical reaction, I felt a surge of warm excitement fill my chest. I embraced her harder, kissed her, then pressed my face into her. She made me very happy.

Minutes later, she was up and the clickity-clack had started. I had rolled off and was laying next to her on my back, tenting out the covers regardless of the plastic contraption. I was thinking of getting out of bed, but before I did, she placed her foot on my left hip and burrowed her toes into the space between my inner thigh and nuts. And she just left it there. On the one hand, it was just her foot – nothing special. On the other hand, I’m more than three weeks denied, so any contact with my nakedness is cause for attention. Also, I felt pinned. I’m quite sure I was projecting into her action, but to me and the nice buzzy headspace which her earlier comment had created, it felt like a very possessive, almost aggressive move. Of course I wasn’t physically pinned by her, but mentally – emotionally – I felt as though she was directing me to stay where I was. So I did.

—

The previous evening, she related an exchange she had with a couple of female coworkers. One of them had been complaining that she resorted to giving herself pedicures and was unhappy with the result.

“You should make your husband paint your nails,” Belle suggested.

She then told them that she did, in fact, have her husband paint her nails. The one with the ugly toenails said she would have her husband paint them, to which Belle responded, “You might find it turns you on.”

Zing!

I have to admit, the first thing to go through my mind when she related this to me was concern that they’d get the wrong idea and think I was [fill in your choice of submissive male negative stereotypes], but then decided I like that fact that I had given her something to brag about in front of her friends. Who cares what they think? They probably think she’s lucky. I hope she feels that way, too.

—

Dev’s recent post about her potentially doing things in bed more for the benefit of her partners rather than herself touches on something I find myself worrying about with Belle. Specifically, that she has done so much to help me make several of my sexual fantasies a reality and I have done basically nothing to help her achieve hers.

Which is not to say I haven’t tried. I asked her a little while back (about the time I wrote about how her having a boyfriend would turn me on) what her fantasies were. What’s the craziest thing she’s ever wanted to do because I want to help her do it.

Something vaguely about another woman. Nothing specific. Not like, I want to fuck a girl. No, it was just kinda sorta a fuzzy thing about another girl. Maybe kissing one. Not actually doing anything. Just…a girl. She had to pick the one thing I couldn’t do for her since, you know, I’m a boy.

It’s hard for me relate since my fantasies are so very specific (“No, this goes there, that goes over there, and then you do this with it, unless it’s Tuesday, in which case…”). I don’t vaguely do anything in my fantasies. Mine are epic Ben Hur-like productions with extras and period costume and herd animals and massive sets.

So anyway, I know that Belle’s getting lots of great orgasms and everything but I want to fulfill her not just physically, but also mentally. I want her to live her imaginary fuck. But, you know…it’s just this girl.

—

I’m getting my hair cut this afternoon when my guy (who, of course, is gay) and I overhear someone else and their client talking about a new tattoo the client got and we both look trying to get a peek but we can’t see anything (which is unfortunate). Then he asks me if I have any tattoos.

“Not yet,” I reply. Belle’s already told me she wants me to get the thing she drew on my ass tattooed there, but I haven’t done anything about it. Not that I’m opposed, I just haven’t gotten around to it. In any event, he’s kind of surprised by this. That I would get a tattoo.

So I tell him I’d be more than happy to modify my body more than I have, but my job kinda makes that difficult (since I’m often trying to talk relatively conservative people into give me large sums of money). Then he tells me that the other guy with the tatted-up client has a boyfriend who’s thinking of getting a piercing.

“You know,” he says, “down there,” motioning with his scissors toward his navel.

“What kind?” I ask innocently.

“The kind that goes through the you know…”

“A Prince Albert?”

“Yes!” he hisses.

Maybe I’m jaded since I come here and frankly discuss dicks and pussies and physical beatings and all kinds of raunchy kinky shit, but I suddenly found it incredibly funny that I was having a conversation with this grown up gay man in which he couldn’t bring himself to use real words to talk about cocks. Also, I had to make a choice. I, of course, know a whole lot about being pierced down there. Should I spill the beans? I mean, if you can’t talk to your gay hair stylist about your genital piercing, who can you talk to about it?

So, as he was wrinkling up his nose at the prospect of not having sex for a whole month after you get it done, I dropped it on him.

“What?” he said, as though he hadn’t heard me.

“I have one of those. A Prince Albert.”

“WHAT!?!” he exclaimed, blushing deeply. It was hilarious.

Then, of course, the questions came pouring out. How much did it hurt, does it make sex better, what’s it like peeing, did I do it before or after having children, etc., etc. He also wanted to know if you got hard during the piercing. I told him getting hard was the last thing that was gonna happen during the event.

In retrospect, this was quite clearly the longest conversation I’ve ever had about penises (mostly the one on me) with a man I had never and would never have sex with.

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HNThumper III

“Joel, you wanna know something? Every now and then say, ‘What the fuck.’ ‘What the fuck’ gives you freedom. Freedom brings opportunity. Opportunity makes your future.” – Risky Business (1983)

WTF or not, I acknowledge that I may be doing this wrong. I may have crossed a line. I dunno. I’m trying to be arty and as non-porn-like as possible. I’m trying not to be obvious. I don’t know. You tell me. Too much? Am I too hung up on the whole cock thing? I guess on the plus side, no underwear this time!

I’m putting this one behind the jump because it’s way NSFW. Also, a note to the potentially squeamish: if genital piercing squicks you out, don’t bother.

Continue reading “HNThumper III”

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Cut me, Mick.

Belle gave me a signal on Friday that she was going to let me out on Sunday. To be honest, when I know my release is imminent, I start to lose patience with wearing the device. As long as the release date is nebulous and uncertain, I’m able to maintain an attitude that allows her to keep me locked-up indefinitely. I knew (or, at least, was fairly certain) she was going to let me out by Thursday before I left on my trip, but once I knew the actual date, I really started counting minutes.

In any event, the package was nice and tight Sunday morning when I got up to help relieve some pressure. Belle stopped me before I left the room and removed her lock from where it had hung for all but 15 minutes over the previous two weeks. In the bathroom, I slid my still-swollen member from the tube. The feeling of slithering out of the thing after a long period (and especially when more than a little erect) is hard to describe, but the sudden onrush of sensation on sensorially-deprived flesh with so many tightly-packed nerve endings is dramatic. The cock looked more than a little like Rocky Balboa in that scene when he asks Mickey to cut him. Red, shiny, puffy in odd spots (where the shaft is exposed between the ring and the tube, where it protrudes through the vents, and where the head balloons through the slot in the end), and generally somewhat disfigured from the angle of the tube and the presence of the KSD-G3. He looked a mess, but little trooper that he is, was ready for action (not unlike the Italian Stallion). After I wiped a week of tubal grime off of it, I went back into her bedroom.

“It looks so weird to me like that now,” she said after instructing me to remove my pajama bottoms. “I’m used to it being all locked up in plastic.”

“Yeah, me too,” was all I could muster in response.

Moments later, I was lapping at her nipples and fingering her and wondering when she was going to make use of her recently available toy. She rolled me over and mounted the battered yet unbeaten (literally) meat. The warmth of her took my breath away. I focused on her breasts and thought about anything other than how wonderful it felt to have her moving over her cock. Apparently, it felt good to her, too.

“This is what I wanted,” she whispered in my ear, “to feel my cock…”

It’s the talking that always does it to me. I can stay in my little zone, but once she starts talking, I lose my concentration.

She started to chant, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” as she approached orgasm.

That did it. I was so close, too.

“Oh no. Oh no, I’m going to come!” I warned, “If you don’t stop, I’m going to…”

“Come with me,” she said, finishing my sentence, “Come (thrust)…with (thrust)…me…”

And I did. And it was glorious. My first really enjoyable orgasm in two months. I didn’t even try to stop it. I just let the feeling wash over and out of me and into her. I emptied myself in a half dozen fat, juicy squirts.

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PA cable project est morte

I put a bullet in the head of the brief-yet-storied PA cable project this morning. I cut the fucker off as soon as I got out of bed. At least for how I’m configured, I can’t see any way a cable through my PA ring will ever work as a permanent security measure. It’s just too painful, in the supernotsexy way. Either the ring is pulling on the piercing or the cable itself is poking into the spongy tissue of the penis head or pinching my scrotum or whatever. Maybe if you’re the kind of guy who’s flaccid state is on the longer side (a shower rather than a grower), it’d work. But if you’re like me and often see the resting version of your little buddy only filling about 60% of the CB6K tube, I think it’s a no go.

Belle unlocked me before she left for work so I could install the smaller A ring and the KSD-G3. I took the opportunity to clean myself and the device, shave, etc. As I withdrew the penis from the tube, I saw gobs of clear, thick fluid. And it just kept coming. I was careful not to handle the merchandise any more than necessary (I didn’t even get an erection), but the precum just kept leaking and leaking. I don’t know – maybe a tablespoon? It was crazy. Even now, 90 minutes later, I can feel little burps of the stuff oozing out every once in a while. So, uh, yeah. I’d say I’m pretty focused at the moment.

Anyway, I’m way over trying to wire the device to myself and am now content with having a pretty secure device as opposed to a totally secure one.