Avoiding donkey island

Funny thing happened whilst camping. In the past, being locked up in that environment and inside that group left me feeling weird. Vulnerable. But this time, somehow, it was the opposite. As though being in chastity was my superpower. It made me feel more confident. That was unexpected.

And so I was locked up. Until I wasn’t. The “very good reason” I didn’t have before I left turned out to be a miles-long hike on a hot day that left me drenched in sweat. I was fine until later, back at camp, when the sweat started to dry and get sticky. Then I realized the metal ring of the Steelheart, the stickiness of the drying perspiration, perhaps the stress of miles of walking causing the skin and steel to rub, and the emerging pubic stubble conspired to hurt like a motherfucker. I struggled with the decision to take it off but, had I left it on, I could have ended up hurting myself and causing a real issue in a place where being clean is hard enough. So I popped the key and liberated the meat.

And then I felt like the weirdo. My (literal) shield was gone. The penis felt incredibly small and pedestrian and no longer special in any way. Sure, peeing was easier and all that and, after a day or so, the painful irritation sorted itself out, but something was missing. A few days before I left, I put the Steelheart back on. I knew there was no way I could be out on the long, boring drive home.

Speaking of which. There was exactly one time I was alone the whole week. Everyone had sort of gone their separate ways for a while and, as I did, too, the thought that I could jack off pushed its way forward like a bridesmaid knocking everyone over jumping for the bouquet. I wasn’t even thinking about anything like that but then it was BOOM “Hey, go jack off.” I didn’t, for the record, but the the way the notion muscled its way into my thoughts was the kind of thing men who get to come as often as they want have no idea can even happen. Back then, the idea would come creeping up like a sly cartoon fox tempting me to an island where I’d do fun stuff but eventually turn into a donkey.

The only issue being locked up presented was at night. Most of us were sleeping in one big tent and I was sleeping in a T-shirt and underwear. It was just a bunch of guys, so we weren’t trying to be exceptionally modest, so had I been I would have looked very out of place. So I decided to just go for it and counted on the kinda-sorta natural look of the Steelheart tube to pass in the off chance one of the other guys dick-checked me. The underwear I wear in the forest (yes, I have special camping underwear) are trunk briefs and mostly black or dark gray. That would help, too. As far as I know, nobody looked. Yeah, they probably did, but if so, they obviously said nothing to me.

So anyway, no, I didn’t turn into a donkey. But I also wasn’t perfect. That was annoying. I’ll know next time to let the pubes grow out a bit. Had I not shaved, I doubt there would have been an issue. Live and learn.

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