Category: Life with Belle

Stuff that really happened to Thumper and/or Belle Fille

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Knife’s edge

Last weekend, Belle let me out of the Looker 02 for 24 hours. This wasn’t because she thought I needed a break or, I presume, particularly cared if I did. It was because she wanted a fuck. I would come out Sunday morning and go back in Monday morning.

The lock slid out of the L02 and the fat end of its plug slithered down the inside of the penis where it had been lodged for two weeks. That led immediately to an erection so insistant that it was almost painfully hard. Sometimes, even if I’m out, if it looks like she wants me to finger her to an orgasm and not want the available erectile tissue, the penis will actually go soft. It’s been trained over the past several years that it and sex aren’t necessarily connected anymore. But this time, it and I knew where it was going and we were both pretty happy about it.

Perhaps too happy. During the warm up period where I was sucking Belle’s tits and rubbing her snatch and generally letting her juices get flowing, she reached down and gave the stiff penis a few strokes (as if it needed the encouragement). I felt immediately how just that contact got the internal ejaculation gears moving, but put it out of my mind. I was confident. I had already been fucked by her at least a half dozen times in a row and didn’t come once. I could do it again.

She mounted me and slid her hot wetness down over the needy hard meat. The feeling made me groan with equal parts relief and unsated desire. I wanted to fucker her senseless, but she was on top and needed to get her orgasm before I could even consider my own needs. Again, I felt the familiar tickling of oncoming coming but clamped down and soldiered on.

Part of the trick is to just present the hard penis to her by clamping my ass cheeks together and thrusting them off the bed slightly so she has maximum ability to use its entire average length. No reciprocal thrusting. If I fuck back, the game is over. She doesn’t seem to want that, anyway. Just be the tool, Thumper. Another part of the trick is for me to put my mind as far away from the actual sex taking place on my body as possible. In the summer, I use baseball for that. This past fall, I used the elections (and thought of bad outcomes specifically). Now, though, I got nothing. It has to be a series of thoughts. A logical progression of considerations that keeps my attention focused elsewhere while she impales her hot went snatch over and over again, letting its juices run down over my balls and down my ass crack, and her breathing becomes sharper and shorter and the fucking gets harder and quicker and…STATISTICS. I need some fucking statistics. Electoral College math or fucking on-base percentages or league standings or something. Desperate, I thought of a video game I had been playing through lately. Lego Lord of the Rings, to be precise. A very pale substitute.

Finally, she came in a shuddering orgasmic crash. Holding herself still over me, I withdrew the penis and let its tip rest just inside her. I could feel it pumping semen. Surging its weeks-long buildup of payload past her quivering lips, filling her up. But it wasn’t really an orgasm. I didn’t feel like I was coming. I could feel the fluid leaving me but none of the mental fireworks associated with the event. Somehow, my orgasm had been ruined.

I know that now. Then, I wasn’t sure what was happening. I could smell my ejaculate and I didn’t like it. I could feel the slippery sliminess all over her pussy and GAH! It wasn’t supposed to be there. I was too distracted. I could still feel the horniness inside me, but the negative connotation I now associate with my own ejaculate was too much to take. The penis went limp and stayed there. I was supremely frustrated while Belle was bemused. She kept telling me how my window of opportunity was closing while I tried to stroke and pet the reluctant member back to life. Eventually, she told me that was it. I couldn’t get hard so I didn’t get to fuck her.

“At least it’ll give you something to blog about,” she said as she left me cold and sticky on the bed.

My period of freedom was extended by another day. Even though I had two showers and several hours alone with the penis, I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of the situation. I wanted…something. But jacking off alone didn’t feel like it. Monday night, I got what I wanted.

This time, she wanted Pink to get her off. My fingers weren’t enough and either she wanted Pink more or didn’t want a replay of the previous morning’s misadventure. Either way, when she was done, I was allowed to fuck her. And, again, almost immediately I felt the orgasmic mechanism engage. From the very second I slipped into her. I can’t even say how many times I had to stop fucking her to keep the orgasm back. I never really felt like I got into a rhythm. Not like the last several times where the orgasm felt miles off. This time, it was always hovering just behind me. Eventually, I found myself skating down the knife’s edge, right on the cusp of it. Every fiber of my physical body cried out, desperately trying to draw it forward, while every bit of my higher brain pulled just as hard in the opposite direction. No, you CAN’T come. You CAN NOT.*

Emotions run high at these times. I felt almost as though I wanted to dry. Instead of the more typical animalistic feelings toward her where I’d want to fuck her into a pulp and then fuck whatever was left, I held her tenderly as if she was fragile and might break from my thrusting. I caressed her and breathed her scent deeply and she was all that was perfect and beautiful and my love for her nearly overwhelmed me. I thanked her. For everything. For letting me fuck her, for giving me the second chance at it, for not letting me come, for just being. Powerful shit, that.

Finally, she told me it was over. And I reluctantly pulled out. And I fell asleep clutching her tightly.

* Feel free to imagine a small Lego Gandalf confronting the Balrog on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, if you like.

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Need

Alas, it has been quite a while since Belle and I had any sex. At least two weeks now. There’s no specific reason it’s been that long. She had her period, I got sick, she went away for the weekend. Regular access to her pleasure is, of course, the alchemic ephemera my body processes into its ability to sustain life without access to itself for indefinite periods of time. It’s a real drag (in every sense of that word) to exist without it. I’m not blaming, just saying. I need to feel her enjoying my touch. Need to hear her gasp and moan. Need to feel her quivering orgasm.

Need it all the way down.

breath

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The Looker 02 revisted

On Monday, I was sick. Sick enough to stay home from work in that “damn, I wish I wasn’t sick” way more than that “cool, I get to stay home today” way. Usually, when I’m that sick (which, to be fair, hasn’t been that often) I hate the feeling of being locked up. It goes from being a pleasant daily reminder to an unfair burden. And, as usual, I was locked up on Monday in the Looker 02.

Yeah, so I woke up feeling like shit and went to sleep feeling like shit but still managed to keep the device on all day. I was even still digging it that morning. But, at the very end of the day just before I went to sleep, I asked Belle to let me out of it. And she gave me some attitude about, which, in retrospect, is kinda funny but at the time pissed me off. But she let me out. It reminded me of a chastity blogger who was around when I started this site but who has since gone to the great blogger boneyard in the sky who was in a similar situation. He was sick and wanted out and his wife actually wouldn’t let him. At least Belle did give me the key.

Tuesday, I woke up feeling about 360% better. You know when you go to bed sick and, the moment you wake up the next day, you’re like “oh yeah, I’m better now.” So I reached over to the nightstand, pulled the device out of the drawer, and resecured the penis. I didn’t have to do that. I could have milked the situation (in more ways than one) and still been out now, but didn’t. I was only out because I was sick. It would be cheating if I stayed out when I wasn’t.

Not counting Monday night, then, I’ve been in the L02 for more than a week. With that time, plus the other time I’ve done in it, I think I can now state without reservation that it’s by far my favorite device to wear. There are at least four aspects any device should be evaluated against: comfort, quality, hygiene, security, and stealth. I mean five. There are at least five aspects. Here’s how the Looker 02 stacks up.

Comfort
Even with the urethral insert, the L02 is easily the most comfortable device I wear. With the Steelheart, there’s occasional pinching inside the tube from the PA ring and internal fixing. There’s none of that with the L02. Also, the A-ring on the SH is just a titch too small (I’ll be sending it back for a larger one). The Jailbird’s open cage design means that occasionally bits of the end of the penis can get trapped between the cage bar and my underwear or pants seam and immediately and emphatically grab my attention. The L02’s cap at the end of the tube obviates that issue.

After all the time I’ve been in it, I can report that I’ve almost forgotten there’s a titanium shaft stuck up the penis at all. I still dig the idea so when I do feel it I like it, but I rarely feel it during everyday activities. Sometimes, when laying on my stomach, I’ll need to shift positions, but that’s it. I’m still getting up to speed following my foot injury so I’ve just started to run in the L02. The first time was unpleasant as the insert rubbed back and forth inside the penis repeatedly, but I’ve found a small dab of silicone lube applied to the insert with my pinky just before the run fixes that issue.

Quality
Steelworxx makes great stuff, period. I mentioned in my first review that the bend in the anatomical A-ring was off, but that’s the only issue I have with it from a build perspective. There are no burrs or seams to irritate and the design seems well-considered. The same goes with the Steelheart, of course. If Steelworxx gets 10/10 for quality, then Mature Metal gets at least an eight or nine, so in this regard, they’re all about even.

Hygiene
This is the trickiest category to score. On the one hand, the Jail Bird is the device that stays the cleanest over the course of the day, but it’s the fussiest to urinate in standing up. The Steelheart is the easiest to pee in, but inevitably traps a bit of urine inside the tube which, if not dealt with by day’s end, can be a problem. The L02 is nearly as easy to pee in as the SH and way easier than the JB. With regard to residual urine, it’s the worst of the lot. I find it’s impossible to get it all out of the insert after going. I can dab and shake and even roll the toilet paper up into a pointy spear and stick it right up there but there always seems to be more. So, each device has a point to win here. The L02 is probably the weakest, but not catastrophically so.

With regard to the concern often associate with this device (or others like it) you find online concerning urinary tract infections, I think the level of concern should be zero. If one urinates the typical number of times each day, that will keep things washed out well enough. As I said in the first review, urine can easily escape around the insert, not just through it, but it also does, obviously, go through it, too. I just can’t imagine how an infection would take hold. (Insert standard disclaimer here about my lack of medical knowledge and how long it’s been since I stayed in a Holiday Inn Express.)

Security
The Steelheart wins here hands-down because it actually is secure. When the PA ring and fixing is in place, there’s no way that meat’s getting out short of the key, a power tool, or a bloody mess. The L02 is slightly more secure than the JB since the insert makes it just that much trickier to pull out, but it’s still totally possible. In a perfect world, there’d be a way to integrate a security screw-type element to the L02 that would go into the PA piercing not unlike how a Prince’s wand works. If the L02 had something like that, it’s be almost as secure as the SH.

Of course, this brings up a downside to wearing the L02 for long periods: There’s nothing in my PA piercing. Eventually, that will cause the piercing to shrink and possibly even close, but I’ve found I can just get my heavier 4 ga jewelry back in there after two weeks, so assuming she’ll let me out at least that often for eight hours or so, I’ll be in good shape.

Stealth
The L02 is dead quiet as there’s no moving parts to rattle or clank. It’s just like the JB in that regard (though the JB, when on, fits together more solidly due to the security screw and therefore might be just an infinitesimally bit quieter). The SH has multiple parts that sometimes rattle (especially during work outs). Also, the tube on the L02 is smaller than that on the SH and is therefore harder to see. Also also, since it has openings on the tube (again, like the JB) the profile of what is visible under pants isn’t as solid looking as the SH’s. After being in it for a bit, I think the L02’s tube could have been about .25 to .33 inches shorter which would have made it that much better from a visibility perspective.

I still appreciate having some variety in the devices Belle uses on me. All things considered, it’s the best device I’ve worn. It won’t stop me from suggesting to Belle we try new devices from time to time (I have, in particular, been thinking about this one lately), but perhaps the most telling factor in all this is, when she tells me to put anything but the Looker02 on, I’m disappointed.

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Metaphorical brussel sprouts

I wouldn’t call the conversations Belle and I are having regarding when I’ll next have an orgasm “negotiations.” If they are, they’re not unlike how a child negotiates their bedtime or how many brussel sprouts they need to eat before they’re allowed to leave the table. Belle is, after all, totally in control of when I come. That hasn’t stopped me from sharing what I think. Like that kid who wants to stay up fifteen more minutes or only eat two, not three, of the vile little green globs, I am at best lobbying.

I point out to her that we have been in a long and sustained Good Place® lately with regard to our D/s overlay. Perhaps the longest we’ve been doing so well since we started. Yeah, we have had a lot of practice by now, but the one thing that’s been different is my orgasm has been totally off the table. I know it’s not going to happen and she knows it’s not going to happen. So, besides avoiding the hormonal roller coaster that comes even with infrequent (say, every month or so) orgasm, I’ve been free to really wallow in my occasional desire to come and she’s free to totally shut me down since there’s a hard date out there (not before January). The further away I get from my last orgasm (which was around July 3rd), the more I’m able (in these moments of calm reflection) to realize I do not need them physically or want them in any other way than in a primal and situational sense. And, as we get closer to that magical “sometime after January starts” period, I’m starting to feel that happily denied male anxiety. Some guys, I know, never get there. They’re denied three days and they’re crawling out of themselves to come and never get to the point that they’d rather not. But that’s not me.

Belle’s not committing to anything other than reminding me who’s decision it is. Based on the few cryptic things she’s said (and acknowledging that she’s still ruminating over it), it kinda sounds like she’s leaning towards nothing so dramatic as some kind of “THOU SHALL NEVER COME AGAIN” decree and will instead go with a more reasonable approach where I don’t come indefinitely. At least for as long as it makes sense. That could be an additional week or…however long it is. Then, of course, I will have some skin in the game. I’ll do whatever I can to keep it from happening, though I know that when she lets me fuck her there’s a 50-50 chance I’m going to really and truly want that orgasm. For me, it’s a bit more unsettling. I’d rather know. But she, it seems, isn’t prepared to go that far with me. Yet.

So, we’ll see. I get at least another month. I’ll keep squirming in my seat and pushing my metaphorical vegetables around as she decides my fate. However it ends up, it’s her call and I know it.

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HNThumper LII: Gun show

Got home from the gym and started to strip off my sweaty stinky clothes before stepping into the shower and saw in the mirror through the material of my shirt as it went over my head how much I liked the direction my arms are heading. Then, because I’m a needy exhibitionist teenager looking for affirmation from strangers, I thought about reenacting the scene for the objective eye of my iPhone’s camera and posting the results here for y’all.

Continue reading “HNThumper LII: Gun show”

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Big ginger

I went out for drinks after work last night with a client and a coworker. I don’t normally drink, but I’ve discovered I like whiskey and ginger ale. It’s caller a Big Whiskey in these parts, though I’ve found not all bartenders have heard of it. Also, I’ve found I like it with Johnny Walker Black. Nice and smooth. Buttery, even. Mmmm.

Yeah, so I don’t normally drink, but I managed to get one down before anyone else showed up and was well on my way to number three before the entire group arrived. The appetizers helped me get my wits back together so I stopped at three. I was in good shape by the time we broke up, but feeling very sleepy. Since, you know, I’m a lightweight.

When I got home, Belle was working on a presentation for work in bed so I zoned watching stupid TV until she was done. Once the lights were out, I pretty much was too, but she decided to have a little conversation. I can’t remember what prompted it, but she mentioned something about maybe leaving me in a device all the time. I pointed out that I’m pretty much in a device all the time now, but she said she was talking about forever. Like, I wouldn’t get out again. She reminded me of my last post and I, sleepily, reminded her that not coming ever again and not ever getting out of chastity ever again are really different things. I admit that I would rather be locked up than not and don’t feel right if some kind of steel isn’t between my legs, but I still like getting out once every week or so. I mean, it’d be such a waste now that I’ve become so good at not coming when she fucks me. Anyway, it didn’t get much further than that. I fell asleep.

Speaking of fucking, I got some of that over the weekend. She let me out Sunday morning but didn’t use the penis for her pleasure opting instead to come from my fingers. After, though, she let me fuck her. I was able to go for quite a while and, at least this time around, never got close to coming. I did want to. I told Belle I felt like I wanted to come.

“No you don’t,” she said.

No, I didn’t. But did at the same time. She mentioned that I should be entered in some kind of chastity Olympic stamina event, I was fucking her so long. Eventually, she told me it was time to end. I wanted to keep going forever, but no. She left me out the rest of the day and all that night. The next day, she put me in the Jail Bird.

I wanted to go in the Looker again and told her that if she would rather, I’d be happy to put that one on instead. There was a time that she didn’t like the JB as much. She reminded me that I didn’t get to decide which device I was in and said she like the JB just fine. So that’s what I’m in.

This morning, as I was getting back from the gym, she was just pulling out of the garage. I gave her a kiss through her car’s window and had one of those bolt from the blue moments I just never had when I was coming whenever I wanted. With her soft lips on mine, I was aware of her whole body and craved every bit of it. In just a few lingering seconds, I felt a jolt of electricity jump from my crotch, through our kiss, down to her snatch, and all the way back. I wanted to jack off badly but had to be content with tending the porn farm. Funnily enough, I found myself selecting a large number of images involving pussies. They were all so fascinating. Afterward, as I was getting into the shower to not jack off, I found my nuts slick with clear leakage from the penis. Even after the shower and after I dried off, it was still coming out.

So, you know, everything’s great here.

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Six months to life

Atone left the following in response to my suggestion that if one can go six months without having an orgasm, one can go much longer:

I don’t know if six months is the magic number but somewhere around that point I realized that it is possible that I might be able to go the rest of my life. The logic went something along the lines of – well, it’s been over six months and that went well, I should have no problem going another six months to make it a year. After a year it truly became normal to not have an orgasm, I could probably go another. It has now been almost 16 months and I occasionally think it would be really nice to have an orgasm but then remember how much happier I am now that I don’t do that anymore. I think if I had an orgasm now I would want another, and another. While the idea of a break is sometimes nice to think about I believe it would end up being rather unsatisfying.

This is going to be different for every person, obviously. Some men will recoil in horror at the idea of preferring a mostly orgasmless existence (even those who enjoy chastity or orgasm denial). Others of us, obviously, not so much.

I don’t think six months is a magical number. Niether is a year. They’re just nice and round. The thing I really gravitate toward in Atone’s comments is the part about how, at some point, it becomes normal not to have orgasms. At some point, it stops being a game or a gap or a test of endurance and it just becomes how you are. And you realize that you like yourself better that way.

Now, I know there’s a lot of dissonance out there about whether or not male orgasm denial makes men better partners (on all levels). I acknowledge that an ass is an ass and there’s no magic bullet to fix that. But I also know from first-hand experience that easy and frequent access to orgasms can make a man distant and even indifferent to their partner. I know that the disconnection of one’s sexual “satisfaction” (a word I use in the most tactical and transitory way possible) is detrimental to the health of a monogamous relationship (I can’t speak to non-monogamy, of course, though I have some opinions there, too). I’m not the perfect mate by a long shot, but I know I’m better now than I was when I could sneak off at night and pull one out.

What I’m saying is, at this point in my life and if it were up to me, I’d rather be the kind of guy whose default existence was to not have orgasms. Not that THOU SHALT NEVER HAVE ANOTHER ORGASM AGAIN or whatever, just that based on my experience, I prefer how it feels not to. I prefer how it makes me relate to my partner. Sure, there are complicating things that go along with being orgasmless (the occasional sleeplessness, an ever-present need for sexual attention, etc.), but in balance, they’re outweighed by how it’s changed my fundamental outlook toward my partner. The early years are behind us. The difficultly I had in adapting to this “lifestyle” are mostly over. I’ve come to terms with how it feels to keep the orgasm inside and am able to maintain that feeling in mostly productive space.

And it’s not that I don’t want to come. Of course, the constant desire to do so creates the thermal energy that fuels all the positive outcomes. When I mention to Belle that it’s been four months, it’s not because I’m dying for the next two to be over, it’s because I’m thinking, Jesus, it’s been four fucking months! In a way, it’s kinda like but then again totally not like an addiction. Once a certain kind of person is addicted to something, they always want it. The desire never leaves them. They have to learn to live with it. That’s where I am with orgasms. They still feel good. As Atone says, the idea of having one is appealing. But that would release certain chemicals in my brain that might lead to having more which would leech all the good stuff that’s built up inside me away.

Of course, this is all talk without Belle’s buy-in. Is she willing to make that exchange? Are the trade-offs sufficiently valuable to her to live without me intentionally coming inside her from now on? Also, by becoming one of those guys, will she have a hard time relating to me? Guys who don’t want to orgasm are…weird. Also, not for nothing, I gave her my orgasm several years ago. I can’t make this change without her consent either way. She’s my partner and I’m her sub.

In a way, this is like discovering the proverbial secret garden. You chase this little ball of orgasm denial into a dark and overgrown grotto and discover behind the hanging moss and ivy a Wonka-like environment you’re not entirely sure is known to anyone except a very few. It’s not all that hard to get back, but once there, why leave? I suppose you’re either going to grok that or you’re not.

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Thirty minutes of freedom

Last Sunday was a bit more than advertised. Belle did let me out and she did, in fact, fuck me. Also, I once again kept it together and resisted coming. Relatively speaking, I wasn’t even close. This brings my streak to five for the number of times Belle’s been able to get off on the penis without me ruining everything with an orgasm. Again, I thought about politics, but with baseball over and the election about to mercifully come to an end, I’m going to have to find another unsexy thing to keep my mind distracted from the feeling of her pussy sliding back and forth over the aching, neglected shaft.

She also let me have a go at her once she was through glowing and stuff. Her pussy felt incredibly hot and sensuous and I was once again sweating out my desire to come in her. Cold, damp sweat. I ended up leaking copiously, but no orgasm. Belle told me the ride was coming to an end and I withdrew about 80% and just moved the head back and forth feeling her labia playing over the overly sensitive glans. Holy fuck, you know? I’m almost shuddering now just typing these words…

In any event, the Looker 02 came off immediately prior to the fucking and the Steelheart Short went over the still-sticky meat immediately after. I never left the bed unlocked. Couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes of freedom, but they were action-packed.

Later that day, after her parents had been over for dinner, she told me in the kitchen that she wanted to go at it again. I pointed out the kids were still up and she rejoined that our bedroom had a door with a lock. With memories of coronal ridges bumping past labial folds dancing in my mind, we retired to the bedroom and locked said door.

I quickly discovered that the coronal ridge was out of luck. The device wasn’t coming off again. We both got naked (except for the steel) and I took up my position next to her, sucking and pinching her nipples and playing with her pussy. Outside the door, the dog was going to town on a squeaky toy.

“He’s excited for us,” Belle said.

“Errhurmph,” I said, mouth full of tit.

“Well, he’s excited for me, anyway.”

“Ermph,” I replied.

I have a remarkably well-tuned sense of how her orgasms develop now and I could tell things weren’t coming along as they should. She brought out Pink, her favorite vibrator, and I used that instead of my fingers. Still, no dice. She took it out of my hand and benched me from below-the-belt action so I redoubled my attention to her nipples. Eventually, she came, but it was a different kind of orgasm. Longer and broader as opposed to a sharp crescendo  Belle’s just one of those girls who has a hard time with the multiple orgasm thing. More like a guy that way, actually.

Anyway, since then I’ve been back in the Steelheart after quite a lot of time in the Looker. It’s taken me all week to readjust at night. The nocturnal erections are a lot more intense in the SH-S with its smaller ring and tighter gap. Given a few more days, I’ll probably be sleeping through most of it, but it’s a very different experience from both the Looker and the Jail Bird (both with slightly larger rings).

It’s now been just over four months since my last orgasm. That’s clearly record territory. Belle mentioned last night that I’m just two months away from my next chance to have one and I suppose I should be looking forward to that, but I’m ambivalent. If I can go six months, I can go for the rest of my life, right?

Right?

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Changing outfits

The other day, I was stripping out of my day clothes and into something more comfortable whilst in front of Belle. She looked over and saw the Looker dangling between my legs and said that this weekend she’d “change my outfit” (meaning I’d be locked in a different device from her collection). Also, she indicated that she’d likely want to use the penis while it was available.

Last night, I was snuggled up against her, pressing as much of my body against as much of hers as possible, and asked when I was coming out. Based on how these things have gone down in the past, I assumed I’d have a day or so of freedom. She told me I misinterpreted what she said and then let me know how it was going to go down this time.

“So you’re just going to fuck me and then lock me back up?”

“Pretty much.”

Whimper.

For those wondering, it’ll be the Steelheart Short this time around.