Belle decided it was time to “change my outfit” Sunday morning after sex but before the gym. She put me back in the Looker 02 after an extended time away from it. I think the last time I had it on was way back during SXSW over the first half of March. Then we went of vacation and then she put me in the Steelheart for like six weeks then I went camping and came back and blah blah blah.
Yeah, a long time. It didn’t feel the same as the first time I wore it. There was still some cellular memory there and it didn’t feel as novel as it once did. Going right to the gym and running on the treadmill for a couple of miles was probably not the best idea I’ve had. I neglected to apply a dab of silicone lube to the insert and wore regular, barely there jogging shorts. The bulb-end on the insert kept punching the inside of the penis with every step. It started out as an interesting sensation but evolved into an relatively uncomfortable one before too long. By the end of the day, it was burning for a few seconds every time I took a piss. The next day, a little tender but not painful. I even ran again in the afternoon, but this time lubed the insert beforehand and wore supportive athletic underwear. By this morning at the gym, totally fine.
Aside from the self-inflicted issues from the first day, the Looker 02 remains a remarkably comfortable device. It woke me up this morning, but not from the hard shaft being squeezed by the A-ring as in the Steelheart, but by it clamping down on the bulb-end of the insert. Sometimes, it feels like this odd little hard spot inside me. Not very painful (and without the testicle discomfort the smaller Steelheart ring can give), but kind of like a mild burning. Yesterday, I had on a pair of light-brown dress pants and noticed while sitting at my desk that the bulge from the cage was smaller (the tube is slightly shorter) but that I could make out the bars through the fabric. Not sure if anyone not expecting to see a chastity device there would have been able to discern what they were looking at, but I knew what it was.
Speaking of which, this morning while working out at the gym with our trainer, I was trying out a new pair of athletic underwear. The pouch on these is a little more forgiving, though still supportive, so that when I was on my back doing bench presses or while doing crunches on the bosu ball, I noticed that the L02 stuck out more than I recall it doing in the past. The pouch may actually have been holding the package up rather than pushing it down like my other shorts do (which, if you think about it, is probably what most guys want it to do). I remember when I first started my work-out regime that I was very concerned about the devices showing to my trainer (so much so that I asked Belle to be let out when I trained — she refused), but today, even with the trainer there and three other people I didn’t know milling about the free weight area, I just didn’t care. Had they looked (and all guys do), they would have seen what looked like maybe a short little stiffy poking up at an odd angle, but I didn’t try to hide it. I couldn’t and still do my exercises. At this point, whatever the fuck. I’m kinda over all the stealthy theatrics. I’m not going to be vulgar and drag someone into my sex life against their will, but at the same time, I’m not going to act especially self-conscious or be uncomfortable about it.
Speaking of speaking of which, the other day I spied a dude in a parking lot who, it seemed to me, clearly had something in his pants. Something unnatural. Could have easily been a chastity device. Something on the larger side, though, like a Curve. I only mention it because it’s the first time I’ve ever seen another guy in the wild who I though could have been packing.
Anyway, I have another week in the woods away from Belle in a few weeks and I’m thinking that this time I might actually be able to stay locked up. The hygiene requirements of the L02 are somewhat simpler than the Steelheart and my privacy situation might be slightly improved this time. I will definitely be giving it a shot.