February 2015 – Page 2 – Denying Thumper

February 4, 2015

Bipanflexible

Lorelei, aka Suggestive, answered a question that’s been on my mind over on her blog. To summarize, how are bisexual and pansexual different things? The questioner defined them thusly:

bisexual: sexually attracted to both men and women.

pansexual: not limited in sexual choice with regard to biological sex, gender, or gender identity.

Lorelei’s reply was pretty spot-on, I think (“bisexual” is an older word from before the concept of a non-binary gender existence was common plus it might be better shorthand than “pansexual” before you get to know someone if all you really want to do is say you aren’t straight). You can go read the whole thing. It’s good.

The part that made me curious was this:

Pansexual opens up bisexuality to include transgender people, intersex people, and like you said – people that don’t necessarily gender themselves. In other words, someone who is pansexual is more or less bisexual, but someone who is bisexual is not necessarily pansexual.

I’ve thought a lot about this in the past (more or less the first time I found out Buck Angel was a kind of person in the world, whenever that was). When I say I’m bisexual, I might really mean I’m pansexual as it’s defined above because I’d very happily have sex with both trans men and trans woman. Either someone presenting very masculinely but with a pussy or someone presenting very femininely (and maybe with breasts) yet with a cock¹. Sure. I’m game. I like all those things and I don’t really think changing up the how they’re combined would be a bad thing at all. In fact, I’m sure I could even hook up with a non-gendered person. Probably. Well…probably.

This snuggles up to something else I’ve been pondering since I found it the other day. A few months ago, someone posted to imgur a set of charts that supposedly breaks down active FetLife users. Three charts in particular caught my eye.

First, the sexual orientation reported by all the active users:

Wow, I thought, look at all those bisexuals! Plus all the others I’d probably lump in with bisexuals (and then get scolded for doing so if they knew I was doing it). How awesome, I thought. My people!

Then I saw this. Sexual identity reported by just the men:

Fucking hell. Really, guys? Sixty-seven percent straight!? Can we believe this? Is it really true that out of all those thousands of kinky people (57% identified as male), so many of the guys are dead-on Kinsey zeros?

Of course, this is how people are choosing to identify. That’s not necessarily how they are. I suppose if you’re a guy and you’re married or in an LTR with a woman and you don’t have a lot of interest in men sexually and no ability to pursue any anyway, then you’re straight. I also think there are a lot of straight men who have fucked around with guys, especially in their youth. I know because I was one of the guys they fucked around with. More than a handful of current men who, when they were boys, seems to enjoy my naked company and seem to all the world as straight (and at least one I can think of off the top of my head who’s made borderline homophobic jokes on Facebook).

My personal opinion based on my own experiences with men who identify all over the place is that they actually are all over the spectrum. How we identify has less to do with how we are and more to do with how we want to be perceived. Men are not given bonus points in our culture for calling themselves anything outside “straight” and, it seems, will only do so for specific reasons. Same goes for men who call themselves gay. They might have a tiny or more consequential yet still minority part of them drawn to women, but they get no bonus points for ever letting that show.

Of course, I’m talking about men here because that’s what I know best. Women actually are somewhat rewarded for not identifying as totally straight in our culture. The men like it, for one, but it’s also more accepted. This is shown by how they break out on FetLife:

Just look at them. Not even a third say they’re straight. More call themselves bisexual, not even counting all the related flavors.

Who knows. Maybe all those guys really are super-duper straight and I’m full of shit. Maybe women just are more fluid sexually. But it doesn’t feel that way to me. I think a lot of guys aren’t perfectly K-0 but say they are anyway. Perhaps they confuse what they are doing with what they are? “I’m with a woman so I’m straight.” That would help explain why bisexuals are often called “formerly” bisexual with they settle down with someone of either gender. Who we fuck isn’t what we are, right? But maybe it’s a more prevalent perspective with men.

It’s also possible this is a generational thing. People my age were pushed to go straight or gay and neither side seemed to think something in between was valid. That seems to be changing with younger people. They’re inventing all kinds of interesting variations on the theme. And good for them. Bi, pan, flex. To me, they’re all essentially the same. But what they aren’t is fitting into anyone else’s conception of what’s “normal.” I’ll count that as a good thing.

¹ And let’s not get started on the fact that other cultures have archetypes of feminine men in them like the Japanese.

February 4, 2015

Protecting muggle sensibilities whilst naked

Me on Twitter this AM:

Fuck. Forget I'm getting a massage this afternoon and I'm still locked up.

— thumper (@thumperMN) February 4, 2015

The place I get my hair cut is right across the street from where I work. Super convenient and the nice gay man who cuts me is obsessive compulsive about it and makes me feel like I get my money’s worth (and it’s more than most people would pay for a simple haircut, I’m sure). They’ve been building a massage room there for about the last ten years (or so it seems) and the masseuse they have is really good (if a 15 minute chair massage is any indication). I’ve been very excited about the prospect of having a massage option so close and convenient and have been bugging them every time I’m there about when they were going to start accepting table massage clients. Today is that day. So I booked a 90 minute rub down.

Problem is, the above tweet (and its fucking typo¹). I’m still locked up. Of course, I am not embarrassed by this. No, really. If the dude giving me the massage was in on my private life and cool, I’d be perfectly happy staying inside the thing as Belle wants and/or answering any questions my state would raise for him, but I really don’t know him. Plus, of course, reputable massage therapists are always having to fend off jokes and innuendo about their profession, so the good ones treat anything sexual like kryptonite. Plus plus, it is entirely uncool to bring someone into your kink without consent.

This is something I struggle with when seeing the trainer. I know for a fact he’s seen the odd bulge in my shorts and I do little to hide it (though I do do a little). There’s a fuzzy line between not dragging someone into your kinky sex life against their will and needing to live your life as you’ve chosen. In the case of the trainer, I feel like I’m on the right side of it. In the case of a (presumed) muggle masseuse, wearing a device that would be obvious through the sheet and/or clank a little when I roll over definitely is not. I get the concept of being forced into a potentially embarrassing situation like that might be uber hot in a chastity femdom porn story, but seriously. Not in real life.

Since I forgot all about it, I don’t have Belle’s key which means I need to break into the one I have in case of emergency. Kinda bummed about that for no other reason than I’ve been able to maintain seal 1871290 since mid-March of last year. Now it has to die and be replaced with another silent key keeper.

It’s possible, I suppose, he’ll put a thick towel over me or a heavy sheet. And it’s possible that towel or sheet would be enough to hide the odd bulk of the Steelheart. But I recall one massage I got (at the Grand Californian at Disneyland of all places) where the sheet was ridiculously thin. Thin enough to figure out if the penis was circumcised. For real. Had I been locked, all would have been known instantaneously. It just seems really super creepy to me to not do something about the device if I can. Of course, I can. So I will.

While writing this, I’m still locked up. I’ll stay that way until I undress when I’ll pop the key and take the Steelheart off. Then, when redressing, I’ll put it back on. I’ll only be unlocked during the actual massage. Assuming, of course, that the key in the key safe is the right key. Damn. Just thought of that. Fuck.

Well…it is what it is. I’m pretty sure it’s the right one. We’ll know at about 3:10 this afternoon. Here’s hoping for that super thick towel or heavy sheet just in case…

UPDATE: The idea that I had the wrong key freaked me out enough to break into it and give it a test. Yes, it’s the right one. And yes, I’m still locked up.

¹ Seriously, Twitter!? We STILL can’t edit fucking tweets? Facebook figured this out years ago now.

February 3, 2015

Irrational rabbit

Belle let me fuck her twice this past weekend. The first time was pretty normal stuff for us. I got her off, she let me fuck her. I only got close to coming once and that’s when she told me to stop so I did. Like I said, normal Thumper/Belle sex.

Sunday, though. First thing we did was break out Belle’s new vibrator. Her previous favorite, Pink, of which we had two identical models (one for her nightstand, one for mine), is no longer available. The one in my drawer (which may have been the one that was running for an unknown amount of time in our luggage as we were coming home from Spring Break last year) started going off randomly and all by itself at all hours of the day. It had lost its little vibralicious brain. So we were left with just the one Pink until the other day when Belle used it in the bath tub. I suspect its waterproofness had failed since it was totally dead not long after. So I visited Smitten Kitten and tried to find her a replacement.

Pink is, as I said, no longer made so I had to find a new pink. This is tricky business since Belle likes a very specific kind of vibrator. Not too big, not too soft, with a firm little motor. I found one I thought was close (and would show it to you except that it doesn’t appear to be on the Smitten Kitten website) and gave it to her last week. Sunday was its debut.

Thing about vibrators, though (that I’ve learned in the past few years), is they’re not all the same. I tried using it on her first as I would have Pink, but she needed to keep giving me directions (which, all by themselves, I found hot — especially “put it in me”) until she took it into her own hands to experiment with while I focused my attention on her tits. Eventually, New Pink (which is really purple) did its thing and she, after a moment of basking, told me I could do mine.

For whatever reason, I was sure she was going to let me come. No idea why. Sometimes, it’s just a hunch I get and I’m usually right. So I started fucking with the idea I would climax at the end. But, as I got closer and closer, she didn’t give me the magic words. So I slowed down and stopped to give the orgasm a chance to back off. Then I started at it again. Even though there was no outward reason to believe so, I figured this time would be the time. I let myself get really close again but didn’t hear the magic words.

Here’s the thing about fucking. It’s all the penis gets anymore. Nothing happens with it that she doesn’t allow and she doesn’t allow me to play with it or use it in any pleasurable way except when I’m allowed to fuck her. I am totally focused on her pussy in a way I’ve never been about anything sexually. It and it’s pleasure has even elevated above the penis on my list of sexual priorities. It seems to be the only way I’ll ever come again. From her pussy and inside her. And then only rarely. Fucking her pussy has always felt amazing, but now because of the insidious nature of how I’ve been trained to focus on being in her exclusively and specifically, it feels FUCKING AMAZING.

So yeah, I slowed down again to let the orgasm creep back up inside me and I looked directly into her eyes. She just looked back. No flicker of understanding passed between us. I started fucking again. This time, while continuing to look into her eyes, I thought very insistently about being allowed to come. She just smiled at me. I got really close yet again (quicker with each cycle, unsurprisingly). I had a quizzical look on my face and she just kept smiling.

Eventually, she had had enough and told me I was done. I whined/whimpered/moaned in defeat. It was election night and I was certain of victory even though all the polls indicated I was going to lose yet I remained confident and here we were at the moment CNN had called the race against me and I had to go down to the ballroom and concede.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I thought you were going to let me come. I really want to come.”

She laughed at me. Laughed.

Not being in the laughing mood myself, I buried my face in her neck and whimpered some more.

“What’s up with you lately?” she wanted to know. Why was I suddenly seemingly more interested in coming? In the past, I’d beg and plead to be denied. Was I looking to change up the paradigm?

No, I wasn’t looking to do that, but I did want to come. Badly. But I’ve totally released any pretense of influence on her regarding that at just about the same time she’s taken full control over my release. Used to be, I could influence. Cajole. Nudge. Not anymore. She just doesn’t let me. I totally acknowledge that and have stopped worrying about it. Would I like to be denied more and longer? Sure. Would I like to come? Yes. Both these things are true. Luckily, it doesn’t matter a whit what I think about either possibility. She decides and for her own reasons.

This is the truest form of orgasm denial. No control or desire to control from me whatsoever and a total command by her with only her own needs and concerns in the equation. I did badly want to come Sunday morning but I also wanted to be controlled badly. Both outcomes were what I wanted, even if one was more desirable in the moment. None of that mattered to her, though, as I asked for it to be and as it should be.

In a perfect demonstration of her total say in this matter, she indicated my next orgasm might happen on February 15. It’s a Sunday. And it’s International Male Chastity Day. Her attitude seems to say, “A whole day for male chastity and orgasm denial? How cute. That’s the day he comes, then.”

We’ll see.

February 2, 2015

Love and hate

Over on his blog, Drew wrote a post that was also a question. Basically, since he now has personal insight into outwardly-appearing “straight” couples and how they interact, along with his intimate understanding of how homosexual couples live and interact, he wondered how the two were different from one another. Gay couples are more often open than non-gay (apparently) and gay couples are often open with one another about their sex lives. Are “straight” couples the same? How are they different? And, of course, I use “straight” in quotes since that’s how Belle and I appear from outside.

I think M/M couples are more open in both senses of the word. They’re more often open sexually and they’re more open with one another about it. My simplification of their experience would be that it’s easier for them because they’re all guys. In a mixed gender scenario, you have something like alternating currents involved. The differences in how the genders process sexuality and the associated emotions need to be negotiated and that, more than anything, is what keeps F/M couples from chatting too freely with one another about sex and relationships. Of course, some do. But many (most?) don’t. When the couples are divided and grouped into their component genders, talk of sex increases because the currents are all the same. But even then, there’s a lot of uptight straight people out there.

And, of course, guys are allowed to be slutty in a way society frowns on for women. When the sexual dynamics are all about M/M sex, there’s a lot more of it. I’m not saying men are simpler sexually than woman or that woman are too complicated or whatever, only that it’s very easy for men to have sex without consequences (and that’s multiplied by about 10 when it’s sex with another man). I think men are also socialized to more freely have no-strings-attached sex than women. If it sounds like I’m saying men are pigs, I won’t lie and say that’s not true, but I think women could just as easily be pigs if we were all raised outside our dominant “good girls don’t”/”monogamy at all costs” paradigm.

So no, Drew, “straight” couples tend not to talk about one another’s sex lives unless their participants are broken out into their gender groups in which case they might. At least, that’s my experience.

Two caveats. First, openly kinky people are probably more likely to have these conversations than the non-kinky or the closeted kinky. Second, I clearly have no idea how those in F/F relationships relate to one another. Zero.

Now, when it comes to actually being in an open relationship, I think there’s more of that going on in the “straight” community than is let on. It’s such a taboo (or has been) that even if a relationship was like mine and Belle’s, chances are quite slim that information would be volunteered, even to close friends. Therefore, I think it’s impossible to know how many couples are open in some way (whether that be swinging or “fine but don’t tell me” or a cuckolding thing or like ours or whatever — there are many available flavors).

I would encourage my readers to check out the comments to his post because there’s a lot of good stuff there. But there was also this from someone called Pat…

I really don’t understand why everyone is so casual about this. For the straight couples it’s cheating. Plain and simple. For the gay couples, I guess you could call it a form of cheating but since those marriages are soon to be voided, I suppose it won’t be.

I made a vow when I married my husband to stay with him and only him. This bow [sic] was to him but also to God. I like to keep him in chastity to make our sex life stronger, but it’s just for us.

Open and cheating are not the same thing. I can tell you that for a fact since I’m someone who has cheated and is now in an open relationship. Open is so much better. And, if you read my last post, you’ll see how open can also be perfectly casual. In fact, I have to imagine it’s at its best when it’s casual. If I was sneaking around with Drew behind Belle’s back, that would be cheating. Since I’m not, it’s not. Plain and simple.

Regarding the dismissive hatefulness of the rest of that first paragraph, all I can say is you’re on the wrong side of history. You’ll soon be relegated to the same bin we keep racists who hated interracial couples and religious fanatics who persecuted the left-handed. That makes me very happy. We’re leaving people like you behind. I don’t say that with hatred in return. It’s a simple observation of fact. You’re either on the equity bus or you’re under it.

Also, point of fact, regarding the “marriages will be voided” comment, the question being taken up by SCOTUS would not, even in its most damaging result to marriage equity, void any marriages already performed. Nor would it stop marriages in states, like mine, were the elected legislatures made it lawful.

Regarding the question of vows, I can’t imagine why we couldn’t renegotiate whatever we laid out to one another soon-to-be twenty years ago. I can’t imagine why one would let their younger, less experienced selves place them in such a rigid box like that. Funny thing is, opening our marriage has been nothing but good for our relationship. So if by doing so we’ve strengthened the marriage, how is that going against the spirit of our wedding vows?

Of course, you can choose to make promises to your imaginary sky friend, but I’d rather stay focused on Belle and me, thanks. In my estimation, promises to gods have resulted in immeasurably more suffering and pain on this planet than the opposite. They’re all too often used to shield and justify hateful, damaging, and abusive words and actions. I’ll have nothing to do with them.

Pat also went on to say…

I’ve recently started reading [Thumper’s] again now that it’s back to more he and belle and chastity versus the gay fantasies and his feelings for sex with you.

You will understand that hearing you say you’re happy to read my blog again now that you perceive it to be more about one part of me than another you find distasteful does little to endear you to me. If there was a way for me to blot out my words so you and people like you couldn’t read them or find any value from them, I would. You must take me as I am, all of me. Both my wife and my boyfriend (and his lawful husband). If you choose not to, then please stop reading me.

I chatted with Drew about Pat’s comment after she made them and how much more emotional things like that make me than him. His said something that made me profoundly sad. Of course, he’s used to comments like that. Words that degrade and dehumanize and minimize him and his feelings and his life. He’s accustomed to dealing with injustice, prejudice, and intolerance. I’m not. I have lived in my privileged “straight” lifestyle and have only recently been exposed to terrible people in such a personal way. Unlike Drew, I haven’t had the opportunity to build up a thick emotional scab.

I don’t want that scab. I never want to let words like her’s roll off my back. Whether or not she was intentionally hateful, she was and I always want to feel an urge to say, “FUCK YOU,” than not. Impolite? Oh, sure. But justice is often impolite…at first.

February 1, 2015

Dining among the beautiful people

Belle and I went out to dinner Saturday night at a shmancy new restaurant that feels like it’d be better suited to Soho than our fair prairie metropolis. Even the people in it seemed to be imported from one coast or the other. Where do these people live? Food was pretty good, though.

Anyway, we had a chance to talk, just the two of us. It was nice and something we needed as there were real life things that had to be discussed (but are unrelated to the world of this blog). Along the way, Belle asked how things were going with Drew.

At no point in my life did I ever think my wife would be asking me about my boyfriend but there she was doing it and all I could do in response was smirk. But it was fantastic and wonderful and such a great thing to be able to chat to her about him and me and me and her and the funky life we all lead. She’s entirely comfortable with the position Drew has in my life and that makes me very comfortable. It’s amazing to me how well this whole thing is working out and I’m impressed with all four of us involved that we’re able to be so perfectly cool about it.

To clarify about Drew’s “position,” I feel for him about how I’ve felt for all the other men I’ve been involved with. In the way my brand of bisexuality allows, greater than just a friend but less than someone I’m romantic with. I feel close to him and very fond and am quite pleased the pressure to have to feel more than that isn’t present. It’s great to have a relationship like this where I can be totally honest about what I need and can give back and not have to worry I’m not giving what he needs. In fact, I think I’m giving him exactly what he needs.

I told Belle again that I encouraged her to find her own Drew-like person, but she again said it wasn’t for her (and no, I’m not harping on it). She’d be afraid of developing an attachment beyond that which I have (or can have) for Drew, nevermind the time commitment something like that would require. Funny thing is, I expect if she ever did pick someone up on the side like that that she would develop feelings for him but I don’t find that in any way threatening. I know what I am to Belle. That said, of course, I’d be jealous. But not an unhealthy jealousy grounded in fear and insecurity. Maybe jealousy isn’t even the right world (or maybe we don’t have a word for it). I think whatever frisson I imagine I’d feel would actually be healthy for me and our relationship. The natural byproduct of our inherent promiscuity as a species. A little high octane fuel, as it were.

A little while back, Belle said she was glad I wasn’t poly. Thing is, I don’t know that I’m not. Do I love Drew? I don’t know that I’d go that far. As I said, I’m fond of him. I feel inside me the capacity to be fond of more than just him, though like Belle, I can’t imagine having the time. When I was unfaithful to Belle, I think the part of it that may have bothered her most was when I said I had “feelings” for the other woman. And of course, I did. I’ve never been good at sex without some kind of attachment like that. But nothing in those feelings changed how I felt about Belle. If anything, it drove me to feel more deeply for her. Nothing in those feelings were a threat to Belle. Same with the feelings I have for Drew. There’s not a finite reservoir of affection inside me that can only be divided up so many times. I don’t think that about any of us. More than ever, I think the limiting factor in how many loves we can have is that insecurity and fear. If not in us, then in our partners.

But whatever. The point of this post is to point out how great my wife is. That she could find the security in herself and to know well enough what she is to me to allow me the freedom to have Drew on the side. She’s awesome and I’m lucky. We’re all lucky. And for that, I’m grateful.