Month: June 2019

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#chastitybump

Today while sitting in our truck while Belle took a turn driving on our multi-state camper excursion, I looked down and saw this…

https://twitter.com/thumperMN/status/1143253519983677446

Not all that unusual, TBH, but since I was just sitting there, of course I took a picture of it and posted it to Twitter. Like you do. That’s not the interesting part or why I’m writing this post.

The interesting part is the hashtag. After pecking that out and posting it, I was stunned to see nobody had ever used it before. I mean, why should they? But I’m never not surprised when I have an original idea and #chastitybump was one.

Of course, I don’t really mind when my #chastitybump is that obvious. I literally just wrote…

I think all this is why I’m not nearly as worried as I used to be about my device being detectable by Muggles. I was running two days ago (and this morning) outside in light blue shorts and discovered as I was moving that I was sporting a fairly obvious bump that moved in a weirdly heavy way. And…I didn’t care. See it if you want. I dare you to ask me about it. I won’t take it off for you. Notwearing it is easy. It’s not special. But wearing it. That’s a thing I’m proud of. The dedication and the difficulty. It is special. It’s my super power.

And in that moment of hashtag inception, I was thinking about a) how hot I think a #chastitybump is (especially in new jeans I like a lot), and b) the defiant language I used yesterday, and c) how obsessed a lot of guys are about the devices locked onto them being seen through their clothing. And suddenly a movement was born. If only in my head. A way to help guys move past their #chastitybump worries and obsession. A way for them to be maybe even proud of it.

Because, when you boil it right down, what does a chastity device signify? Chastity is about devotion, sacrifice, and dedication. All noble and worthwhile things. The man who willingly accepts a chastity device is demonstrating attributes most people would value in their friends and partners. There really is nothing to be embarrassed about at all.

There is the issue of not wanting to involve others in your sex life without their consent. But the reality is (based on eleven years or so of catching people seeing my #chastitybump) nobody is going to ask. I mean, honestly, at this point the number of people I know and don’t who I’ve caught dick checking me has to be a hundred. Nobody has asked. Not a soul. And if they ever do, then they want to know and have therefore consented to get involved.

I think being less worried about one’s #chastitybump being visible is empowering. Being obsessed with stealth indicates that chastity is something to be ashamed of. In my opinion, that cheapens the commitment. I’m not going to go around with the shiny steel tube hanging out my fly, but I also will not go crazy trying to make it invisible.

Of course, creating a hashtag does not empower one with any kinds of special powers. But, if I was king of the hashtags, I’d ask that users of #chastitybump observe the following:

  1. #chastitybump is not for exposed chastity devices. We’ve already got plenty of tags for those. Therefore…
  2. #chastitybump should be used for devices that are covered with clothing. They should be at least minimally visible, but total obviousness is not required.
  3. Preferably, the #chastitybump should be under things like street clothing (shorts, jeans, slacks, swimsuits, etc.), but underwear is also acceptable (mostly because I didn’t think of this rule until after posting a few tagged underwear shots myself).

And that’s it, really. It’s time for us to own our #chastitybump. I really, truly hope this becomes a thing because the stigma of wearing chastity devices needs to be defeated. One little #chastitybump photo at a time.

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Ch-ch-ch-changes

Belle and I are about to leave on an 11-day road trip in our little camper. My social media accounts are about to swap over into “grandeur of nature” mode, fair warning.

It occurred to me as my hand was randomly down the front of my shorts feeling the smooth steel tube, warm with my body heat and slightly slickery from the lube I have to put under my balls, that I’d be really OK with Belle leaving the key at home. Being without the key while locked in the Steelheart is just about the hottest way to do the chastity and pretty much my optimal state.

It’s only happened a few times, and always when she says she’s forgot the key. I don’t recall it ever being intentional. I do recall, though, early on when I was still in the CB6K and we were going off on a weekend away for some reason or another that I was super fucking horny to get the thing off. I wanted to feel my hard-on and fuck the shit out of her. I was actually kind of angsty about it. She didn’t forget the key that time.

Ah, youth.

Chastity changes you. Not just hormonally and mentally and emotionally, though in all those ways, too. I was chatting with someone earlier about this. How not having a penis, the primary sex organ for a man, requires he become creative. Learning the other ways he can feel pleasure and that not all of them are from physical contact. It carves new pleasure pathways. Exposes hidden ones. He also has to learn how to pleasure his partner in ways that don’t involve penetration. For real, young men should be required to have sex with their partners for a full month without use of their penises to learn that critical life skill.

At this point, I think the penis is just too easy. It’s engineered by evolution to provide maximal pleasure as efficiently as possible. In general, they’re absolutely the easy way out, sexually. Most men and certainly men who would never consider being in chastity think this is exactly their point. But I have come to view it as a downside. For me, penises represent weakness. Temptation.

The other day, I was out all day because I was going to a sporting arena after work. I could have worn plastic, but didn’t because I also had a weird sore spot that a day out fixed right up. Every time I went to the bathroom I was presented with this weird little floppy meat thing instead of whatever rigid and usually shiny object I’m used to. Yeah, peeing was easier, but it was so…unimpressive.

That’s not a tiny penis kink thing. Well, not entirely. I mean, when it’s super flaccid it is really small. I said unimpressive because it’s so easy to use. That’s their raison d’être. The shortest possible line from desire to satisfaction. But a locked penis is hard. It’s about no line from one to the other. To be locked and denied for long periods is challenging in all the ways having access to a penis isn’t. And I need sex — my sex — to be hard. Challenging. In all the ways penises aren’t.

That’s how chastity has changed me. It’s bypassed my evolutionary wiring regarding “path of least resistance” pleasure. All my pleasure now needs to be maximally resistive. The more the better. Chastity, denial, bondage, bottoming, pain. It’s not that I don’t appreciate sweet sex. I get why it’s good and necessary. And my submissive, sexual service nature makes me willing to do that when it’s required of me (like when Belle unlocks me to fuck her). But hard sex. Resistive sex. That’s what I’m about.

Was I always like that or did chastity and denial make me that way? I dunno. My thinking is they tend to lower the water level of one’s sexuality exposing topography that’s usually hidden in the depths. And orgasmic satisfaction raises that water back up, turning the topography back into islands or submerging it altogether. But what do I know.

I think all this is why I’m not nearly as worried as I used to be about my device being detectable by Muggles. I was running two days ago (and this morning) outside in light blue shorts and discovered as I was moving that I was sporting a fairly obvious bump that moved in a weirdly heavy way. And…I didn’t care. See it if you want. I dare you to ask me about it. I won’t take it off for you. Not wearing it is easy. It’s not special. But wearing it. That’s a thing I’m proud of. The dedication and the difficulty. It is special. It’s my super power.

The presence of this thing on my body makes me more me than I am without it. I feel lesser without out. And it made me like this.

So yeah. Chastity changes you.

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The Submissive Rabbit

If you follow me on Twitter, this is old news, but I’ve decided to spin up a new blog called The Submissive Rabbit to run side by side with this one to cover other aspects of my sexuality that don’t fit here.

I’m doing this because Denying Thumper is and always has been primarily about my relationship with Belle and my chastity and denial by her. But, as I’m a very lucky bunny, there are other things I’m experiencing that I find helpful to write about since that’s primarily how I process things. Also, you know, I’m a bit of a show-off. Back in the day, I put this kind of stuff on Tumblr but then they went and nuked their platform so I found this other aspect of me to be blogospherically homeless. Hence, TSR was born.

I wanted to make this announcement about TSR on DT to continue to be open and honest in my relationship and sexuality. If you’re interested in the further adventures of Thumper, here are a few links to get you started. If you’re not, welp, just ignore this whole thing I guess.

Another fucking blog from Thumper?

Weekend by the lake, Part 1

Weekend by the lake, Part 2

Weekend by the lake, Part 3

Weekend by the lake, Part 4

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Avoiding temptation

Recently, due to travel, I’ve been in and out of the Steelheart and the Holy Trainer Nub. Since I was most recently traveling either with coworkers or family, the experience of my recent TSA run-in has caused me to go through security unsecured which has led to putting devices on in bathrooms immediately after.

I traveled for work a few weeks ago and took the Steelheart through in my carry-on. Same when I went to visit Frodo. It’s never caused any TSA agent to want to inspect it though I assume it shows as a very metal object on the X-ray, just not in a shape that they find interesting. There’s no telling if it ever will get flagged for inspection, but so far it hasn’t. Since on the work trip I knew where I was going to be the whole time, I felt comfortable being in steel, but this trip we were on last weekend was in touristy areas and occasionally steel becomes an issue so I was in plastic.

Someone messaged me to ask how I avoid temptation when locking and unlocking, especially when I’m alone, and does the penis ever get ideas of its own and make putting the device on difficult.

Starting with that last point, yes, it can get difficult. Though that’s the exception. I’m usually moving too fast and with too much purpose for the thing to get to a difficult state. It’s not uncommon for it to be plumped from the act of being contained, but if I keep my wits about me and don’t think too hard about it, it stays in a workable state. I’d guess more than 90% of the time there’s not much more than a little plumping that occurs. Barely amounts to a chubby.

With regard to the avoiding temptation, I think the thing about that is I don’t want to be unlocked. Not ever. I resent having to be that way. And because I want to be locked up, I can generally be trusted with the key. Belle lets me have it when I need to take it with me and we don’t get hung up on where it is or what I’m doing with it (though when I went to see Frodo she asked for proof I was locked which is just sweet and hot).

While with Frodo, I did have to unlock a few times due to concerns about possible metal detectors (which were unfounded, it turns out), but again, I am never thinking of ways to cheat and/or get out of chastity. There is simply no way I could be with Frodo like that. I’d hate it. It’s impossible to consider. The Rules are the rules and I’m so invested in them the idea of not following them is totally alien to me. Luckily, Frodo gets that and has never even joked about me not being true to Belle’s expectations. To the contrary, when I was unlocked while we were out and about he made a point of telling me I didn’t need to be that way.

No, it’s not unusual for me to crave the contents, but it never goes beyond that. Just this morning on the way to work, I was distractingly horny and intensely aware of the Steelheart and what it was keeping me from and the desire to have access was achingly palpable, but that’s as far as it goes. I crave the crave. That is the point of what I am: always yearning, always struggling, never satisfied. Controlled. Obeying. Denied.

Unf.

Popping the lock and letting it out would destroy everything. Temptation only works when the prospective object is something one desires. I do not desire the penis as a penis. I desire what not having access to it creates.

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Freedom to feel

It occurred to me very shortly after I hit the publish button on that last post that I was going to have to think out the significance of this:

“I feel that this past weekend I allowed myself to really feel for Frodo how I have felt for him for years and express that to him as honestly as I ever have. And it’s exactly because we are both married to who we’re married to that that love can exist as it does. And it’s no less intense and no less valid than any other love I feel.”

Especially when compared to everything I’ve said here before about my bisexuality and my Twitter profile where I say I’m a “bisexual heteromantic submissive masochistic underwear enthusiast baseball fan. Usually locked in chastity.”

I mean, the submissive masochist underwear baseball stuff is totally true. As is the chastity. And I’m absolutely, 100% bisexual. But heteromantic? I am very definitely feeling something that would seem to exceed the bounds of heteromancy (full disclosure, I have no idea if this is a word). So what’s up, rabbit?

The time in my life when I was struggling the most with feelings of sexual attraction towards men combined with a deep desire to be with a woman and create a family was more or less the same time Frodo became so important in my life. When we were transitioning from childhood to adulthood. One of the main reasons I never pursed a romance with him at that time (and we’re talking like 30 or more years ago at this point) is that I already had in my head what I wanted in life. I had known it for as long I could remember. A wife. Children. I remember pretending I had kids from a very young age and by the time it was getting close to when I could make some it was the late 80s and early 90s and all the options available to same sex couples today (marriage, adoption, surrogacy) were pipe dreams or non-existent. And I think every time I started to get emotionally closer to Frodo around this time I would freak out and hit the eject button (which, in turn, hurt Frodo and was totally unfair). Because Frodo lacked a uterus.

So, to me, heteromancy was my destiny and I would not let anything get in the way of that. And since that was the case and Frodo was the only male I ever felt anything close to romantic love for and I never bothered to pursue any other men for that kind of connection, I could easily say (once I found the word) that I was heteromantic. Sex with men was great and totally something I was up for, but beyond that? Nope. They couldn’t give me what I wanted from life.

But the is future now. I’m not 20 anymore (sigh). I have a kid who’s that age and another right behind him. I got what I wanted from life. A woman who I love and two amazing children who have turned out better than I had any right to expect. So the imperative to reproduce has been satisfied (and is now all about patiently waiting for the grandkids).

So not only has that factor been lifted, I am also not single. I have that relationship with a woman I craved. And it’s healthy and happening right alongside whatever else might be happening in my life. So that need for female companionship and my urges to feel her body and get her off in the specific and delightful ways women get off is still available to me.

What I’m saying and where I’m netting out on this is that we are never complete beings. Things are always happening and time grinds forward and as such what was once thought to be immutable aspects of ourselves have to evolve, too. I feel that I am now more free to feel how I have felt for Frodo for decades. I can be more honest to him and myself. And the reason it’s possible is a combination of things the 20-year-old version of me never could have comprehended, let alone predicted.

So I’ve changed my Twitter profile.

I suspect it will change again. Because that’s what life is. And it’s only really over when the change ends.

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Rebound

I spent last weekend with Frodo (for the noobs: Frodo is the guy I met and had a relationship with in high school and who was subsequently the best man in our wedding and no his name is not really Frodo — I’ve written about him before so search his name if you’re curious).

It was…a lot of fun.

In the midst of if, I started to become kind of emotional. Not like in bad way. Like, all my emotions were just kind of floating high near the surface. I was overcome with gratitude and happiness that I somehow managed to find myself at this place in my life with a wife I love and who understands me and cares for me how I need to be cared for and allows me to go off on weekends like this one so I can spend time with my oldest and dearest friend who also understands me and accepts me for how I am and OH MY GOD the confluence of all these people who I love and love me back was just too much to take at points. This may or may not have led to some gushy and sentimental Facebook posting.

When I got back, I was being very affectionate to Belle. Not on purpose. Not in some kind of calculated way. I just couldn’t be near her enough. I couldn’t express myself enough. A house full of home-for-the-summer children not withstanding, I wanted to take her to bed and make her scream with delight. She was like, WTF is up with you, Rabbit?

And…it’s like I said. So much gratitude. So much love. Everywhere for both of them. I think right now I’m about as close as I’ve ever been to really understanding how polyamory can work when done right. Ethically and openly and without guilt or shame. I love both these people. Part of that love is the same, but a lot of it is different. They’re different. They have played different roles in my life. But I’m so happy they’re both in my life at the same time and I can (occasionally) bounce back and forth between them. It makes me so, so happy and Belle is the primary person responsible for this arrangement thanks to her understanding and acceptance and, ultimately, confidence in me and our bond.

Like I said, the love I feel for these two people is not the same because they’re not the same. But I feel that this past weekend I allowed myself to really feel for Frodo how I have felt for him for years and express that to him as honestly as I ever have. And it’s exactly because we are both married to who we’re married to that that love can exist as it does. And it’s no less intense and no less valid than any other love I feel. Frodo is quite simply one of the two most important people in my life and has been for more than 35 years. I would not be the person I am today if not for him.

And Belle is the other most important person in my life and has been for more than 20 years. I would also not be the person I am today if not for her. It’s not an exaggeration to say all the best parts of my life today are due to her.

Thing is, people, there is no limit to love. It is not a finite resource. It’s renewable. It’s bottomless. Our capacity for love is only contained by our lack of imagination and our petty jealousies and insecurities. I am the luckiest fucking rabbit in the world to find myself in this place and there isn’t a moment I don’t realize that.

I am so grateful.