Preferences

Belle had my balls in her hand while we were kissing this morning. Probably the Orion, too, but you know — all I can feel through the Orion is how tight it is on inside. She was squeezing them gently and rolling them around between her fingers while I was warming her up for her Sunday morning orgasm. But I had a question on my mind.

“Do you prefer me this way?”

“Yeah, of course I do. Why do you think I’ve left you like that for so long?”

A bit sheepishly, I replied, “I know. But sometimes it’s nice to hear.”

“I want you locked up. Always.“

I know, it was a dumb question. She’s kept me locked up for more than year straight. But…like I said. It’s good to hear from her. That that’s how she wants me. That it’s how she prefers me. To hear that she doesn’t want the contents as much as she wants my fingers and mouth and hairy chest and strong legs and wide shoulders. She wants a man to get her off on her terms, not his. Her focus, not his. Her orgasm, not his.

And you, since this is probably not the first time you’ve read my blog, know that’s how I prefer it, too. For her to come first and last, always. For her pussy to be worshiped and elevated over all else. For it to spasm under my touch, her post-orgasmic glow punctuated by the gnawing of my unrequited craving. That’s how I’m wired.

And somehow, along the way, it’s how she got wired, too.

Moar German steel

One of my favorite things is the metal cuff I have from German maker Träume aus Edelstahl. Welp, I said in my review of that little bauble…

It locks with a hidden, internal screw mechanism and a special little tool with an oddly-shaped head. It came with just one special little tool with an oddly-shaped head, by the way. So best not to lose it. An extra one is $30.

And what did I do? I lost it! Like, full-on searched high and low and everywhere in between and cannot find the damned thing motherfucking lost it. Luckily, the cuff isn’t on me at the moment. When I realized it was gone, I went to the website to order a new one but it was closed for the holidays. After they reopened, I went back and saw a thing I’ve always always wanted from them: a lockable steel collar. So I rationalized the purchase by saying to myself that I was kind of getting it at a discount since I had to buy the key anyway. Yeah, that’s logical!

And then I waited. And waited. And yesterday, it came!

And it’s beautiful. Eight millimeters thick, shiny steel that’s perfectly fitted for my neck. It’s lovely and heavy and makes me all tingly to feel it on. Above, it’s shown in its simple form. It also came with a removable O ring. You know, for…attaching. And stuff. Dress it up without the ring, make it all practical and stuff with the ring.

It’s the same finish and thickness as my cuff. It’s just…stunningly beautiful. I love it. I want to wear it all the time. I want to wear it out and show it off. I want it locked on forever and for someone to hold the…oh, wait. The key. Turns out, I somehow didn’t order the right one. I got the one that doesn’t lock. A small segment of the ring in back is held in place by tension when posts on the segment are pushed into receiving holes in both ends of the main part. The posts are thoughtfully chamfered to make insertion easier. The opening is just the right size to get my neck through.

Which…well, I guess is fine. Having a collar that can come off more quickly and easily is probably a good thing since society (at least the society I hang with) isn’t really ready for those of us who want to be collared to wear them everywhere all the time. Except now I still don’t have that fucking weird little key thing.

But I will in about a month. Ordered it this morning. Stupid fucking rationalization.

365

Today is the one year anniversary of the last time Belle let me fuck her. The last time she let the contents out for anything other than fact of life-type necessities. When I did the sleuthing to figure out how long it had been, after I realized it had been a long time, I said I didn’t have a memory of that fuck. Luckily I have a blog and I (less often than I used to) write about the sex we have and, as a matter of fact, I wrote about that time.

It felt like the orgasm wouldn’t end. Even after I had shot my load, I felt involuntary contractions trying to milk as much juice as possible. My whole body arched around the erection. My abs actually kinda cramped from the effort.

I mean, if that is the last time, it sounds like the kind of one I’d want as the last one. And after reading my account of it, I do remember it. It was nice. I also wrote…

When will it happen again? Will it be five months? Five weeks? Five days? Tomorrow!? No idea. I don’t even bring it up. I’m not allowed to either 1) ask for an orgasm, or 2) advocate against one so I tend to just not talk about it at all with her for fear of it being misconstrued as one or the other. Of course, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to do it and I certainly don’t need to know if and when she wants it to happen again.

My reticence to ask about being let out makes it very hard for me to even ask if it’ll ever happen again when it seems like it won’t. But the other day, I screwed up the courage (since that’s all I can screw lol) and asked. She laughed and kind of scoffed at the question. But, in fact, she can’t say. She likes me locked up. She wants me that way more than not. Has wanted me that way for at least a year now. As much as I want closure on the matter — certainty — she doesn’t want to be boxed in. And I don’t have the right to ask her to be.

So, I suppose, nothing has changed. That’s been her basic POV on the issue for just about forever. But we’ve never gone this long without the contents getting wet so, to me, it kinda feels like we’ve turned a corner. Nothing has changed and everything has changed. But she won’t commit. She doesn’t have to. That’s the deal. It’s what I signed up for. It’s what I begged for.

I ended my post from a year ago the same way I could end this one.

In a way, that total lack of control creates its own kind of peace. All I have to do is be ready for whatever she wants.

The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess.

Orgasmic party tricks

I was reading a fresh post on a relatively new chastity blog I’ve been following (I mean, only one that I can think of has been doing it longer than me, so I guess they’re all relatively new?) and it had me nodding my head. The blog is called Careful What You Wish For and, based on the most recent entry, I think that’s a pretty apt title.

The basic premise of the post dealt with challenges the blogger, LockedUpL, was having with stamina. It is, in my experience, a perhaps unexpected (though totally logical) consequence of denial and chastity. Also, as it was in my experience, it didn’t happen with L right out of the gate.

I remember in the early years of being locked up and denied that my relationship with and understanding of my own orgasm was such that I could fuck Belle longer than she wanted to be fucked (and she likes getting fucked). It was as if I was able to see all the little interlocking pieces of my orgasm and how they worked together so well that I was able to short-circuit it right as it happened while I was fucking her. A brief moment of being perfectly still and allowing ejaculation to happen but without actually coming. Like I was ruining my own orgasm inside her. Then, the penis would stay hard as I kept fucking. It was great.

But I think doing that somehow ended up breaking it because I can’t do that anymore. Haven’t been able to for years. There’s no real build-up period so I can’t catch it before it happens and while the ejaculation doesn’t really feel orgasmic, the erection fades quickly. It’s like I’m coming but not really because it doesn’t feel like orgasms used to feel but I might as well have come because I can’t stay hard and the whole stupid process is over in about two minutes, tops. For the purposes of pleasuring Belle, the entire effort is useless. And it sounds to me like that’s about where L is (or getting to).

It’s like there’s different stages of male orgasms. The before-chastity kind everyone is familiar with. Slow build-up, explosive release, massive hit of sleepytime brain chemistry after. Then there’s the middle kind I described above. The kind that come from really paying attention to how they work that lead to being able to do amazing party tricks like fucking the wife for an hour. Then there’s where I am now. Infrequent fucking and zero masturbation and too many orgasmic party tricks fuck with the wiring and suddenly we find ourselves with the shortest imaginable fuses.

I supposed that last stage isn’t inevitable. But without mixing things up and perhaps taking a break from chastity and being allowed to experience normal orgasms for a while (or, minimally, masturbate and edge for long periods), I think it is the final destination.

Well, maybe not final destination. Because the final final destination is where I seem to find myself now. The permanently locked-up, post-pussy, post-masturbation place. Because at some point, letting me out for sex became unnecessary in a relationship where her pleasure and satisfaction were paramount.

L is pleasuring his wife. He says again and again that she’s very happy with the sex they’re having, notwithstanding his inability to perform. That sounds super familiar. Belle has been a very satisfied customer for a long time, even as my ability to fuck dwindled. When I read L’s words, I hear a man who’s struggling a bit with the true meaning of his erection being totally optional to his wife’s pleasure. Mouths, fingers, and toys can easily take its place. I mean, he knows it’s true, just as I do, but I sense the same conflict of really groking that as a man I used to deal with. When all the precepts of how we’re raised and conditioned with the primacy our culture places on erections in sex all crumble. What does it mean to be a man when the thing that most defines him in his own mind becomes irrelevant to his partner’s sexual pleasure?

It’s a mindfuck to be sure.

I guess my advice for L is to listen to his wife. She’s telling him she’s having a good time. She’s very happy with their sex. It doesn’t matter to her that he can’t last. Accept that last bit entirely: his penis doesn’t matter like it used to. It’ll never matter as much as it used to for her. And if he doesn’t let go of outdated paradigms of what constitutes sexual success, it’ll end up becoming A Thing between them. The last thing he wants to do is get so worked up over the changes chastity and denial are having on him that he makes his wife feel pressured and stressed. Trust me on that one.

Maybe someday he’ll find the kind of acceptance I have. I don’t think ending up pussy free is required to do chastity correctly, but I do think we need to embrace that the most important thing to guys like us is the pleasure and satisfaction of our wives. That is the purpose and meaning of chastity, in my mind. And there’s just no way we can follow that path and not expect ourselves to evolve in certain ways. Not all of them would be acceptable to our previous selves. But…that’s not who we are anymore. Right?

February stats

Just a quick post to recap February.

I was in the Evotion Orion for most of the month and was able to change into the Steelheart towards the end. I was out for two approximately one hour periods due to air travel. On the year, it’s a similar story. All Orion except for that short period at the end of February. I’ve been out 6.5 hours for the year, entirely for travel. That’s 99.7% locked for February and 99.5% locked year-to-date.

I expect I’ll be in the Steelheart for the rest of March and I don’t know of any reason I’ll need to be unlocked. In April, I’m going camping and will ask if I can go into the Orion for that since it’s easier to pee through and stays cleaner than the Steelheart. But camping, even with outdoor showering within view of my friends, isn’t a reason to be unlocked, so I don’t see a reason to be out in April. Or May. Or June until the very end of the month when Belle and I are going on a cruise. So, assuming I get out to fly (and since it’s just the two of us, I don’t have to), that’s another hour unlocked on each end.

All of this only matters since I’ve set the goal for myself to be unlocked no more than 24 hours for the year. I still really think even less is possible. My stretch goal is no more than 12 and, even though I’m technically more than half way that in just 1/6 of the year, I think it’s not out of reach. All depends on how often and under what conditions I fly.

And, of course, Belle. If she decides she has a use for the contents, that’s about an hour each time. But she hasn’t had a use for them in 349 days, so I don’t know what the odds are there.

Regardless, I assume I’ll be in the Orion most of the time. Unless something else (👀) comes along, that is. Last year, I wasn’t in anything more than half the time (the BA-31P led the pack at 45%). I think it’s really possible for the Orion to be closer to 80%, if not more.

Guess we’ll find out…

False advertising

I go to the gym twice a week and work out with a trainer. I’ve been seeing this guy for years now. For so long, I remember being in the CB-6000 when I first started with him. I remember being freaked out that he’d see it (and, to be fair, the standard CB6K makes a pretty damned obvious chastity bump). So much so, that I recall wanting Belle to let me out for our sessions.

Eventually, though, I got into better devices and lost my inhibitions about them being detectable through clothing. I mean, I don’t wear running tights to my training sessions. I don’t flaunt being locked up in front of him and the other muggles. But I also don’t worry if there’s a less than natural-looking lump down there. I’ve been asked if my trainer knows I’m in chastity and all I can say is no, we’ve never talked about that, but he has surely seen my chastity bump many times without saying anything (if it even registered with him).

So anyway, he recently switched to a new gym. If you’re a gym regular, you start to know the other regulars, at least by sight if not by name. But being at a new location, there’s all these new people I’m still getting familiar with. This new gym is a more serious one than the last, so the regulars tend to be bigger and hotter which is nice. But yesterday, there were two guys working out together that I’d not seen before. They were in good shape, but not like crazy ripped or anything. And they were obviously gay, which was notable only in that all of the people at the gym present straight. And they were both, at various times, checking me out.

Or, more specifically, they seemed to be checking out my package. I was wearing a pair of tightish army green sweats over a pair of athletic underwear with a roomy pouch to hold the Steelheart and the combination made, admittedly, an interesting profile to anyone looking. And, of course, guys look, not just the gay ones. The chastity bump was especially noticeable when I was doing standing biceps curls (which I know because I do those in front of a big mirror).

I caught them looking a couple times, then looking at each other. It was kinda obvious. So much so that my trainer even clocked them doing it and told me. My trainer is straight but barely if at all homophobic, so he thought it was funny.

Thing is, these guys could easily have been half my age. They were probably seeing a daddy with a big dick when in reality I’m, well, not that. More a DILF than a daddy, I guess. And I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t like the attention, but it’s also not the first time I’ve been sort of torn about the Steelheart in particular giving people the wrong impression about me. It’s like I’m stuffing my underwear or something.

It’s about relative comfort with how I’m presenting to the world. And it’s not just the Steelheart that does that. I’m obviously male, and appear pretty straight. And yes, I am male, though it’s more complicated than that as someone permanently in chastity. And I’m absolutely not straight. What I really am is a lockup-up bisexual bottom sub, but how do we communicate all that silently and only through presentation? We can’t, I guess, absent a shirt that says, literally, “LOCKED-UP BISEXUAL BOTTOM SUB” on it. And I’m just midwestern enough (by upbringing and cultural osmosis) to be uncomfortable wearing those things about me on my sleeve (literally). But, oddly, not so uptight that I’m worried about someone seeing my chastity bump?

Fucking weird.

Anyway, I fantasized about flashing these guys the Steelheart. That would set the record straight. But, of course, I did not for obvious reasons.

All boned up and nowhere to go

Belle let me put the Steelheart on today. I was in the Orion for over 93 days and, while I love it as much now as I ever did, I really miss steel. Steel is, like, one of my things. So shiny and hard and smooth. Unf.

Three solid months is the longest I’ve ever worn any device without swapping it out for another. Thanks to Belle’s stricter key discipline, I can’t change whenever I feel like it and the few times I kinda brought it up, she didn’t see the need to let me, so I just stayed in the Orion. But yesterday, we were in an airport and I asked if she’d be OK with me going back to the Steelheart for a bit once we got home. She was fine with it this time and wondered what took me so long to ask, so this morning I made the swap and took the opportunity to eradicate some hair that’s usually hard to get rid of.

It has been a very, very long time since the contents was pleasurably handled (and if you don’t think I know exactly how long, you must be new here) and while shaving isn’t exactly pleasurable, it was “handling” and I’ve been especially horny for the past several days, so things started to happen.

I did not play with it. Not even a tiny bit. But I had to move it around and hold it and pin it up, etc., and the fucking thing was looking up at me with its one good eye and pleading for more. Just the simple, functional jostling was enough to get it chubbed out. It’s a different kind of mind-fuck to feel and see one’s erection hanging in mid-air, desperate and ignored. I did nothing whatsoever to encourage it, but after so much neglect, it doesn’t take a whole fucking lot to get it going.

I haven’t seen my erection in quite some time. The last time she let me out for sex was nearly a year ago, so could it have been that long? I boned up during our vacation massage, but I didn’t see it then (though the same could not be said for the masseuse). I…am not sure when the last time I would have seen my own erection was. The last few times I had the Orion off for hygiene, I don’t recall getting hard. So, yeah, long way of saying it’s a novel experience. And it looks sort of pathetic to me now. Sad and unwanted. I don’t want unencumbered erections anymore. And Belle gives no indication she wants it, either. It seemed desperate to take advantage of the moment and practically begged me to do something. But all I could think about it how annoying it was that it was there and getting in the way. And how just unimpressive it is to me. I felt a kind of pity, actually. Weird how it was the center of my universe of so long. So central to who I thought I was. Now its only value is in its confinement.

Thinking about it that way seemed to take some of the wind from its sails. It didn’t go flaccid, but it drooped a bit. Enough to start getting the Steelheart on. Its base ring has always been a tight fit, but getting my left testicle through was especially wince-inducing. If anything, the extended duration of my denial has made my balls even bigger than they were. Regardless, I was able to get them both through along with the shaft (eventually) and squeezed into the tube.

God, I just love the Steelheart. Rubbing and grabbing it through my sweats really turns me on. Every device is different and each gets me going in its own way, but the Steelheart is special. I can so better feel every movement in there. The Orion doesn’t have as much give inside and the PA hook keeps things pretty well pinned down, but the Steelheart allows for movement. I can feel perfectly every time the contents chub out even a little. The ring is the tightest I wear and I can already get an idea of what the early morning is going to be like based on the near-constant semi I’ve had since putting it on.

Since we’re on the topic of being in and out, I can report that year-to-date, I’ve been locked all but 6.5 hours. All of that was for travel and most was in January. I have no encounters planned with the TSA until the end of June now so, assuming Belle continues to see no need to let me out for other reasons and nothing else extraordinary comes along, I should be well positioned to make my time unlocked goal of no more than 24 hours. In fact, I’m trending towards coming in under my stretch goal of no more than twelve. Which kind of blows me away since last year I was unlocked for a (currently unimaginable) total of almost four whole days.

One is enough

One of the many, many things I think about now that Belle’s apparently decided I’m done being let out of chastity for sex ever again is what it felt like sliding into her after she let me go down on her. It’s, like, super wet, obvs because of the spit, but also the texture is different. It’s a different viscosity. Not quite as slickery. Because, you know, spit. Also, for whatever reason, she feels a little looser somehow.

So, yeah, I was thinking about that again this morning after she came with my tongue pressed up against her clit, feeling the spasms of her pleasure and the tight grinding of the Orion into the mattress. And then as I was laying there, holding her, and the device pressed against her leg, full and straining. I remembered what it was like climbing between her legs and lining the head of the hard contents up against her hot wetness as it enveloped me in one thrust.

🎶Meeeeeeeemorieeeeeees…🎶

But, of course, I don’t get out. I don’t get to feel that. All I get are memories and I suppose I should be grateful I even have those. Because my POV on it, and the thing that lays like a weighted blanket over my lizard brain animal craving to fuck, is the knowledge that the one-sidedness of our sex represents a minimalist perfection that a bunch of thrusting and spurting and laying heavily on top of her would ruin. Just the one orgasm between us is just the right number.

To be clear, she chose this for us. It’s what she has determined is best. No matter what, I have to respect that. And I don’t think she made this decision because she doesn’t like to be fucked. I think she made the decision based on what was best for us. Not her, not me. Us. And I not only respect it, I love her for it.

All my life I’ve felt a deference to my partner’s pleasure during sex. From my earliest encounters, I remember being instinctually invested in them having as good if not a better time than I had. If I came first, things would feel…off. I never understood why. I never understood why I never wanted to be allowed to be the only one who came. I was trying to make my girlfriends come before I knew the first thing about how their pussies worked. That’s just who I am. How I’m wired. Their pleasure is mine.

And chastity and denial help me understand that better than I ever have in the past. Chastity because I can’t run off and furtively pleasure myself at a merest tickle of a shadow of horniness and denial because my arousal and desire are allowed to build to maximum levels. These things in combination create a condition inside me to be the most perfect version of my submissive, partner-pleasing self. And yeah, I so badly want to feel the sensation of sliding into her, but I know the value of feeling how I am when I’m not allowed. And I get to feel like that all the time, not just for a few fleeting moments.

The trade-off is worth it for me. And her, apparently. And I’m beyond grateful that she’s taken control that way.

I don’t usually talk about Frodo on this blog, but it feels much the same when I get to be with him. One cock, in those encounters, is the perfect number. Two would ruin it for me. It would create conflicting feelings inside me. It always has. And when I’m with Belle, the only cock that feels right between us is the one she keeps in her nightstand and I get to use on her during very special occasions.

I recently received the following feedback from a reader:

What is wrong with masturbation and cumming? Why is submission that important? What if she wants you castrated and a penectomy performed since you are now pussy free and never hard again? I just do not understand and guess I never will. I could not do what she is doing to someone I am supposed to love.

I didn’t start this post as a response to that, but I guess that’s what it is. You either get what I’m saying and where I’m coming from or…you don’t. And while, on the surface, it sounds like this person doesn’t, I believe they get it enough to have gone through the trouble of reading at least some of my posts, seeking out the feedback form, and firing off a note (and how do you even find this blog if you’re not looking for it or the stuff I talk about here?). I don’t think they want me to answer those questions about myself, they want me to answer them for them.

I’ve written about it before here. When presented with a novel sexual thing, your response is either going to be arousal, revulsion, or fear. The fear comes from guilt and shame powered by arousal conflicting with cultural norms. It’s the same fear I felt when I first realized how powerfully arousing the idea of being cuckolded was for me. So, I get it.

But, he wasn’t that honest with himself or me, so I’ll accept the feedback as-is. And if, after this post, he still doesn’t get why, then he never will.

Vichy Twitter

Vichy France was the name for the French government following the country’s defeat by Nazi Germany in World War 2. It wasn’t technically part of Germany, but it worked in cooperation with Germany and, while still calling itself “France,” everyone knew as long as the Nazis were around, France was dead.

I only mention this little history lesson because I was reading a post on Kottke’s site about the latest boneheaded move to destroy Twitter’s cultural relevancy by the authoritarian who controls it where someone called the platform “Vichy Twitter” and…that’s kind of brilliant.

From the Vichy France Wikipedia article:

“At Vichy, Pétain established an authoritarian government that reversed many liberal policies and began tight supervision of the economy. Conservative Catholics became prominent, and Paris lost its avant-garde status in European art and culture. The media were tightly controlled and promoted anti-Semitism…”

The comparison is remarkably apt, actually.

✓ Authoritarian rule
✓ Erosion of small-L liberal norms
✓ Infiltration of actual Nazis
✓ Decreasing cultural relevancy
✓ Unchecked anti-Semitism along with other forms of hate speech

My usual routine, upon waking, has been for some time to check my OG muggle Twitter first thing to catch up on what happened in the world while I was sleeping. Back in the pre-Vichy Twitter days, I would rarely be able to read all the tweets that were posted during that time. Now I can do it in a few minutes. Not as many people I followed are still on Twitter and those who are are using it less.

Note, the way I use Twitter isn’t how Elon would like me to use Twitter. I’ve always had curated lists of accounts that display reverse chronologically and only include the tweets and retweets they make (and no ads!). The “For You” tab is an absolute cesspool of garbage that should be called “From Elon” as it often includes his tweets, his comments to tweets, his retweets, and the ravings of various and sundry right-wing asshats who feel empowered to have an easily manipulated, emotionally infantile manbaby running the platform.

I’ve started to rebuild a list of great follows on Mastodon using one of two terrific new iOS apps, Ivory and Ice Cubes. I was going back and forth because they’re both great, but have settled on Ice Cubes at the moment mostly because it has the best implementation of quote posting (quote tweet in Twitter parlance) of any other app I’ve used. For reasons passing comprehension by me, Mastodon does not support quote posts (not a debate to get into with early Mastodon adopters, btw) so it’s up to developers to find a way to provide this basic functionality. This seems fitting since things like retweets, quote tweets, and even the word “tweet” all came from developers and the user community, not Twitter.

Anyway, for the first time last week, Screen Time reported I spent more time in a Mastodon client than in Twitter. Seeing as Twitter has been my most-used app for a long, long time (especially since I ditched Facebook), this is kind of big deal.

Of course, that’s all muggle stuff. On the kinky-sexy side, things have not progressed.

Unfortunately, hardly anyone in the community I’ve developed with my Thumper Twitter account seem to have made the jump to Mastodon. A common refrain is that Mastodon is too complicated and I will acknowledge that it isn’t as straightforward as signing up for and using Twitter, but it’s not like trying to run DOS after spending one’s life on a Mac. This is a great intro to the service that should help dispel the perception of complexity.

As I said above, the biggest improvement to my enjoyment of the platform has been the introduction of great apps to use it. Those I was using before were…weird. Or buggy. Or both. Ice Cubes is fantastic and being actively developed and doesn’t cost a thing (though the developer will happily take a tip). Ivory (made by the folks who brought us my beloved Tweetbot) is lovely but does have a modest subscription fee.

I don’t mean to shame anyone still using Twitter. I expect it will take a long time for me to stop entirely, but it’s weird to me how much more traction the non-kinky side has seen there than the kinky side. Partly, this is the network effect in action. There’s still several muggles on Twitter that aren’t on Mastodon (or who are but aren’t using it) but there are many fewer, as a percentage, of kinksters I follow and (used to) engage with on Twitter who have made the leap. This bums me out because I simply can’t bring myself to meaningfully use Twitter anymore, even if I am losing a lot of community value.

Weirdly, the number of people following me has continued to grow though I post nearly nothing of interest anymore. Not sure what’s up with that.

I think the thing that really holds me back from being on Twitter more is that, being in the line of work I’m in, I know how much the people who own these platforms value and crave the stats I (and probably you) generate being there. Time on site, likes, comments, retweets, ads viewed and (accidentally) clicked on, links posted, etc. This is their lifeblood and the only thing they care about because it’s what leads to the ad dollars they can charge. The less we use Twitter, the more we communicate our displeasure with how it’s being run. It’s literally the only thing we can do now that it’s owned by a megalomaniac. Individually, it’s a tiny, tiny act of rebellion, but done alongside millions of others, it will move the needle.

One positive side effect of being less engaged on Twitter is I’m posting here more. Between 2018 and 2022, I wrote an average of 24 posts a year (with 21 being the lowest and 28 being the highest). So far in 2023, this will be my 8th. I assume the energy I’d typically use on Twitter is being redirected here. I still do have things to say, after all, even if I’m saying them with many more words and without as much interaction. Interestingly, traffic to the site doesn’t seem to be impacted at all from not posting links on Twitter. I would have expected to take a hit there, but you can’t really tell by looking at the stats when I stopped.

So, yeah. I dunno. It sucks to have lost what I once had on that platform. But I don’t really know that I have any choice in the matter.

Orion update

I’ve been wearing the Evotion Orion for almost three months (86 days on and about 6.5 hours off) and I posted my review back at the beginning of December so I thought I’d take a moment to give a bit of an update about the device and my current opinion of it.

It’s…like…perfect. Honestly. No issues whatsoever. I don’t think I’ve ever worn the same device for three months straight, let alone without issue. Even the venerable Steelheart was never on that long. I’d either get bored or pinched or something and need/want to swap it, but with Belle’s recently reasserted key authority, swapping hasn’t been in the cards for me so here we are.

I’ve noticed that I don’t get woken up as much by nighttime or morning erections. I can even slip a finger in under the base ring while the contents are trying to get hard near where the shaft ring attaches. The two parts come together in a way that leaves some room up there which seems to lessen the tightness of the ring. I do get a nice snug tightness lower down the shaft and around the head, but it’s not so tight that it ever becomes even mildly painful. I guess if I squint I could turn that to a minor disadvantage because I have grown to really appreciate a good, strong morning tightness. The kind the Steelheart gives me where every part of the contents feels the strain. But for someone who wants comfort above all other things, I can’t think of a reason not to advocate for the Orion.

This device causes zero discomfort while also always feeling incredibly secure. That’s a first for me. I can’t say that about any other PA-fixed device I’ve worn. It’s just…there. Doing its job. Day in, day out. The hollow PA hook continues to work great, though I have developed a bit of a dripping leak as my piercing has grown accustomed to the larger intrusion.

So, yeah, kinda boring, I guess. The Orion continues to be as great as it was after a few weeks. I know a few people who’ve reached out to me have said they ordered it following my review and I guess all I can say for others who might still be on the fence is to go for it. I can’t think of a single thing functionally wrong with it.