This morning, I’m for some reason suddenly kinda blown away that this whole enforced male chastity thing works at all. That you can lock a bunch of stainless steel (or polycarbonate or silicone or…whatever) onto what is a very tight, moist, presumably delicate part of a man’s body and just leave it there. For days, weeks, months, or (for some lucky/poor SOBs) years. And, you know, for the most part, nothing happens. Shit doesn’t fall off. There are (and I’m serious about this) no long-term adverse issues. It’s kind of crazy if you think about it. Such elastic things we are.
I’m also amazed by the realization that I have no idea when my last orgasm was. I can’t remember it. I know it must have been in June, but since that was the recent nadir of my blogging activity, there’s no record of it. Like most guys in my position, the time, date, and circumstances of my orgasms have typically been of high importance to me. But now, suddenly, I’m adrift in a vast orgasmless sea with no idea where the shore is or was or which direction I’m heading. On the one hand, it’s kind of liberating. I’m not looking backward at one and I’m not (literally and figuratively) looking forward toward another. I just am (and they are not). Don’t get me wrong; I still want them. A lot. But wanting them is better then having them. At least for me (at this moment).
Belle locked me up around the 6th of July. I think I had been without orgasm for about two weeks at the time, so that would have me at almost two months now. In the old days, six or seven weeks would have equalled three or four dozen ejaculations, mostly into the bathroom sink or onto my hand or stomach. This is better. Way.