The days are getting shorter and the leaves have turned orange and yellow and are falling off the trees, so that can mean just one thing: Locktober is coming to an end.
There was a time when I was kind of excited about November 1 (or, more specifically, the first Saturday following November 1) since that’s when Belle would finally let me fuck her after a long month of being locked up. And yes, dear reader, there was a time when a solid month of being locked up was an achievement for me (and Belle). In fact, I’m pretty sure the first time she left me locked for an entire month was because of Locktober.
After a few years of that, they (whoever they are), invented NOvember. And then she left me locked for two whole months. And, because of how being locked up a long time works (the more you do it, the more you want to do it), I…was OK with it.
Speaking of NOvember, it seems to me (but what the hell do I know) that the Muggles appropriated it with that whole “No Nut November” thing and, honestly, it just seems evil to make a bunch of straight American boys not come at all for a month and then, when they’re nearly done, force them to hang out for a whole day with extended family and eat dry, garbage turkey meat (turkey is garbage and Thanksgiving would be infinitely better if we ate some other fattier animal, but I digress).
I can’t prove it, but I think Locktober was a pretty instrumental stepping-stone to becoming permanently denied. It allowed both Belle and I to really focus on the other ways I could pleasure her and showed (especially when coupled with NOvember) that I could go for longer and longer periods without release and be just fine. Once we got through NOvember, it seemed like she was more comfortable making me wait until our usual holiday trip at the end of December. And even if she did let me get off inside her around Christmas, the periods of extended lock up just got longer and longer.
But no, I am not excited now when Locktober closes out because, obviously, for me, all the months might as well start with “lock” (though I admit “Lockruary” doesn’t really have the same ring to it). Actually, it makes me kind of wistful — but not for me. Instead, I think about all those locked up penis-having people who are finding themselves dreading the end of October far more than the start of it.
Because you do get to the point where you just want to keep going. It builds on itself. You get used to the more vibrant existence that comes from being constantly low key horny. You realize that, instead of bringing relief, orgasm feels like it temporarily kills a part of who you are. And while you wait around for the frustration to build, life can feel flatter, emptier, less interesting, and just blah.
I’m not saying everyone with a locked penis feels that way. Not yet, anyway. But I am saying I think Locktober can and, at least in the case of Belle and I, has led to a lot more than just 31 days of enforced denial.
In other words, Lockternity.