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I’m terrible at answering my mail.

Fetlifer perfectlyrare wrote…

You have a great and really inspiring blog. Thanks for being so open and being a good ambassador for chastity stuff. I really like how you include asides about having a healthy family life and quietly pursuing your interest in bisexuality. The main reason I messaged you was a chastity question, but I’m also curious when you revealed being bi to your wife and what the discussions were like that led you to exploring dating a man? My girlfriend is mostly vanilla but I showed her some tease and denial type videos (Christina QCCP) and she has rapidly got into limiting my orgasms and being manipulative with intimate touching. We are starting to talk about chastity. She enjoys the idea but worries that it would be too painful or uncomfortable to such delicate sensitive body parts that she treasures. As such, we are quite focused on the holy trainer. The only thing stopping us from jumping on it is that we wanted something compatible with plastic locks because we don’t live together, we are already focused on mental/obedience chastity, and i like the idea of being able to get out in an emergency, even if i cant think of what emergency might require it! Plastic locks would let me get out easily without the luxury of being able to lie about it which might be more tempting with a metal padlock that prompted me to try to slipping out. I really wish holy trainer would introduce a new version that brought back the ability to use plastic locks :/ and you probably wouldnt know but i bet the holy trainer might be weakened and degraded by urine? i am pretty into diapers so maybe it’s a bad bet in the first place in that regard. should i just get a cb 6k?

I’ll do these in reverse.

I don’t think the Holy Trainer would be damaged by urine. Don’t worry about that.

No, don’t get the CB6K. The Holy Trainer is better in every single regard, except perhaps the fact you can’t secure it with a numbered lock. You can still buy the original HT as separate parts from the Holy Trainer site and Kept For Her, so that’s an option. Another option is to do what Belle and I do which is fashion a keyholder like this one from Steelworxx and use the numbered lock to secure the key, not the device. My experience with the plastic locks is being in your pants leads them to break on their own relatively quickly, so they’re not a perfect option on their own.

Regarding your girlfriend’s worries about the fragility of your penis, that’s sweet, but they’re tougher than many men let on. It’s all relative to your ability to deal with discomfort, of course, but I’m locked up all the time with no apparent negative ramifications.

Regarding the coming out as bi to Belle, that was on the table from early days. Even before we were dating. It’s always been out there.

Fetlifer Born2Lead wrote…

Hello! Just wanted to swing by and drop you a line to let you know how much I’ve enjoyed reading your blog. I plan to pass along the link to my little pet. I think he would benefit from reading that there are other men, like himself, out there (romantically involved with women, yet still sexually bisexual, submissive and kinky).

He worries terribly that someone might find out his secrets. We’ve discussed the potential role of chastity within our relationship. His biggest concern at this point is that the profile of his birdlocked device is ridiculously massive and very noticeable. I saw that you’ve written a number of reviews on different devices and thought I might ask if you have a suggestion for a chastity novice that has a smaller profile and is more easily hidden beneath clothing?

The short version of the Holy Trainer 2 is the best from a size and outward visibility standpoint that I’ve worn. Silicone devices are also easier to conceal if only because their squishy nature makes them look more natural, but I hate them as a general rule.

And no, he is definitely not the only submissive bisexual heteroromantic kinky fucker out there!

Reader tom emailed…

are stainless steel rings available for cb6000 ? the thickness of the rings is the one thing i find uncomfortable. if someone made them in stainless they could be thinner allowing for more comfort…..at least i think so.

There’s a metal version of the CB-6000 out there (not an authorized CB-X product, but very similar in how it works) but I have no experience with it (and can’t remember what it’s called). The rings on the CB-6000 are the single biggest drawback of the product, in my opinion.

Reader Kuba wrote in with a long one…

I’m a 34yo straight (sorry 😉 ) male. I’m pretty new to your blog, but I’ve already read quite a lot of your advice on chastity devices, and since you’re quite experienced and open to helping people, I was hoping that perhaps you might give me some advice as well.

Don’t worry, I won’t discriminate against you because you’re straight.

I’m quite interested in chastity myself, mostly as a form of bondage (self-bondage in this case, as for now I’m alone), rather than a D/s dynamic  – I see bondage more akin to an artform rather than means of submission.

Anyway, the experience I’ve had so far wasn’t very good. I’m an owner of a CB-3000 device (not many mentions of it on your blog), and it’s not working out very well. I find it very uncomfortable, there’s a lot of pinching, etc. Reading your blog I realised that one of my mistakes was getting a normal-sized cage, when I probably should have taken a small one – extra space inside was a constant issue. Still, even without that I have a rather tight sack, which doesn’t help either. I know it can stretch with time, but CB-3000 was such a bad experience, I ended up not wanting to train for that at all. And when growing the extra air holes tended to cause nasty swells.

The CB3K was the big device just before I got into chastity. By that time, the CB6K was out. Back then, the CB3K was reported to be more comfortable because its rings were rounded rather than square like the CB6K. However, at some point, CB-X decided to “upgrade” the CB3K with CB6K-stype square rings. If your scrotum is tight (and they all start out that way, to a certain extent), the square rings are absolute torture.

And yes, all that extra tube space can also cause discomfort.

Anyway, I don’t intend to let that discourage me and would love to continue my adventure with (self-)chastity. I’ve found your blog while looking for reviews on Birdlocked and I’m glad I did, as (along with some other things I found all over the internet) it convinced me It’s probably not the best choice. I’m currently leaning towards Holy Trainer, as it fits a lot of my requirements (stealth being one of them – which is not a surprise, as it’s rather common), however during the course of my readthrough I’ve started to take a liking to the Looker 02. I’ve always found the idea of a device with a urethral plug awesome. Seems more… “complete” that way. The problem is I’ve never had any experience with urethral sounding before.

Essentially what I want to ask is what you think might be the best course of action? Does it seem like a good idea to go straight for Looker 02 or would it be better to stay with taking small steps an go for Holy Trainer first? If you think the Looker is the way to go, should I get some sounds first and train a bit before wearing it, or is it possible to start wearing it immediately and gradually get used to it? (obviously immediate 24/7 would not be a good idea)

I assume the best option would probably be HT first, then moving on to Looker, but that means buying two devices instead of one, and that’s something that’s rather painful at the moment – that’s one of the reasons I’m asking if going for the Looker right now is a viable option, or something a bit too extreme at this stage, with my limited experience.

Your choice is to spend more money over a longer period on two devices rather than a lower amount up front on one. Upside is you save some money, downside is maybe chastity just isn’t for you and the CB3K wasn’t totally to blame and/or you hate the feeling of the urethral insert. I love the Looker 02 and find it to be very comfortable, but I also enjoy the sensation of a penetrated urethra and knew that before we bought the device.

If I were in your spot, I’d get the HT first and play with sounding before plopping down the cash for the Looker 02. Generally speaking, I advise newbies to go with the Trainer or another plastic device before investing in custom steel anyway for a number of reasons.

To complicate matters even further I’m an avid cyclist, not as a sport, but as my main means of transportation around the city. I’ve seen you mention biking while locked is not the most pleasant idea and it’s best to remove the device… however with me riding the bike every day it wouldn’t be too convenient, so cycling comfort is yet another important point here, and you mentioned the Looker is pretty good in that regard. How does Holy Trainer fare here?

To be honest I did try to ride a bike while wearing the CB-3000 (although much less than I do now), and didn’t notice too much extra distress… but it might be I simply didn’t notice due to the whole thing being so damn uncomfortable.

I have yet to bike in the Trainer. If you’re doing it around town in regular street clothing with at least the short HT, you’ll probably be OK. When I bike it’s for fitness and I wear tight biking gear which makes the devices significantly less comfortable.

Oh, and a completely disconnected question: What is your outlook on full, Florentine-style belts? I’ve noticed you only ever mention (and worn) ball-trapping devices. Do you know how do those compare? Especially when it comes to the regular issues such as comfort, security or stealth? (because most certainly they lose when it comes to price 😀 )

When I first got into chastity, I lusted over one of those, but now I can’t imagine wearing one. Not with my current lifestyle. The entire field seems to have been taken over by smaller trapped-ball devices now. Never having worn one, that’s about all I can say about them.

Good luck to everyone who wrote in!

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Three weeks, three squirts

I mentioned a few posts back that Belle was going to keep me locked up for three weeks straight. This was more an accident of timing than anything else, but it was also a result of her just not feeling the need for a hard penis when my chance came along and therefore seeing no purpose in letting the one on me out of its confinement. Then she was out of town for a weekend and, even though we had sex after she got back, it was a quickie and was more about my tongue and her clit than anything else. Finally, yesterday, she let me out. And it felt so fucking good to have a real, unrestrained erection.

Too good, actually. She had to warn me to settle down. I get a little rambunctious when she lets me out. Kind of like a dog who sees his leash. It only happens for one reason, really, so when it does I start jumping up on her and wagging my tail and panting and such. I think she likes it when I get excited like that, but also needs me to focus on the task at hand: her.

Feeling your wife’s hot, wet pussy when you’re locked up is a certain kind of torture, but feeling it when you’re not but also not allowed to just fuck the shit out her is altogether another feeling. So much promise and potential and anticipation, made all the more intense by three fucking weeks of being under lock and key. I was rock hard and 12 seconds from coming and only my middle finger was wet. Then she told me to get inside her.

She hadn’t come yet. I think she wasn’t too far off (I am keenly attuned to her orgasmic processes) but she wanted to be fucked so fuck her I did. And she liked it. Vocally. And that expression of pleasure was too much for me. As she liked it more and more, I lost any pretense of stamina. I got far too close to coming before I stopped and the leakage inside her was every bit three weeks’ worth of pent-up frustration. After that, we needed the vibrator to finish her off. It came away from her covered in my juices more than hers.

Early this morning, I was woken up by the sensation of my nocturnal hard-on rubbing against the sheets. The opposite of what normally wakes me up at that time, except this morning I got to grind it into the bed in order to feel more. I’m not allowed to stroke it, but I so wanted to. All I could get was the contact friction against the mattress. I suppose even that was breaking the spirit of the “no playing with it” rule, so I (eventually) stopped fucking the bed.

When Belle woke up, I jumped her and again went too fast for her. She didn’t make me fuck her first this time, so when she was done and allowed me access, I found an unwilling partner in the penis. Even if I’m out and she’s wet and inviting, if she already came, it will often go soft. That’s how well trained it is now.

Luckily, my Belle knows me and gave my (still kinda rough and sore from earlier in the week) nipples a healthy twisting. The direct line from them to the penis electrified and the erection was back in a flash. I got lost in the fucking to the point that I was about a stroke and half away from coming when I finally stopped myself from going over the edge.

That’s when I realized I was expecting her to tell me to come. For whatever reason, my interpretation of how Belle keeps me left me assuming that today was going to be the day and so I didn’t do anything to stop myself from going right up to the orgasm. With that notion still in my head and nearly an entire orgasm’s worth of spunk in her pussy, I started to fuck again. I find my aversion to ejaculate is so complete at this point that the feeling of fucking through my own has become a turn-off, but I was counting on that orgasm so I pressed on. So much so, that I added whatever was left inside me to what came before, but the word was never given. I never came.

I asked her about it after. Told her it felt like today was going to be the day. She laughed. Not unlike two weeks ago when she never let me out, the idea that I would come now never entered her mind. I honestly have no idea how long it’s been since I last came (which she likes very much), but it’s apparently been long enough that I feel like doing it again. Or, at least, I want to feel like I want to again.

As we laid there in (her) post-orgasmic snuggle session, I started to drift off. She thought it was funny that I acted like I had come even though I hadn’t. I could feel in my balls the tightness and weight of being very much denied release, but the rest of me really did feel like I had come. Snoozy, warm, fuzzy. Except in my crotch where this afternoon’s blue balls were brewing. Back in the day, denial like this would leave me wired and bouncing around, but not anymore. Further indications of conditioning.

Right after breakfast, I asked when she wanted me back in. Often, this is a vague kind of thing. It would be understood that I’d need to be locked up sometime before bed. Occasionally, I can stretch that to Monday morning. But she said, “Right now,” and I was like, Oh…OK. So I marched myself into the bathroom, showered off the morning’s fucking and running, trimmed the hair I usually can’t get to, and locked the Steelheart back in place.

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The one where I use words like “baleful” and “quadrilateral”

Some days, you want to write on your blog, but you can’t think of anything interesting to go on about. Other days, you have a thing to write about but no time. Still others, you have multiple things you want to say. That’s what today is. I have, like, three topics I want to go over (maybe four) but I have to spend the better part of the day at a photo shoot so just this one’ll have to do. Bonus points: it’ll be another post about me and Belle and me and Drew and Drew and Axel and I know how that riles up a certain demographic who reads me.

Drew tweeted this yesterday:

Then he wrote a post in which he mentioned a comment I’ve received but have yet to release from purgatory. The juxtaposition of these is interesting in that the commenter said something to the effect that he was surprised I was still seeing Drew as he assumed the “novelty” of the situation would have worn off for me by now. Then he said some disparaging and (perhaps unintentionally) ugly things about gay men.

I’m torn about releasing the comment since this guy’s native language is obviously not English. While I think his bigotry is pretty clear, I’m not sure I want to engage with someone who may not be evil, clearly needs educating, and doesn’t have a firm grasp of the words needed to talk about it in this forum.

Regardless, it’s the “oh, how happy we are” feeling that all four points in this quadrilateral relationship share against the continued feeling of some that a) Drew is an awful gay man bent of ruining my marriage, and b) Belle is a powerless victim caught up in my perverted fantasies. Or something.

An example. Last night, there was a ballgame on. I was watching in bed with Belle, my head laying on her stomach, her hand in my shirt rubbing my chest. This is my favorite place in all the world to be. Drew misheard something the announcer said and texted me about it. I laughed and told Belle what he said. She laughed. I texted back. Drew texted back. I told Belle what he said. We laughed some more. Then we kept watching the game.

Note, there was zero discomfort. Zero awkwardness. My phone was clearly visible to Belle the whole time the exchange was taking place (though, to be fair, some of it happened on my watch). Please, if you’re still harboring any doubt or concern about our relationship, knock it the fuck off. If you can’t knock it the fuck off, just keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear about it.

Drew posits in his aforementioned post that the thing keeping some from accepting a merry band of four like ours is their own issues.

I actually now think the thing that is the hardest for most people to comprehend is the absolute 100 percent faith, trust, and allowances that our spouses allow us to have because that kind of freedom is very scary and something that many may dream of, but may not be able to handle when they are granted it, if they are granted it in whatever form or format that may take.

The two most important words in that sentence are “faith” and “trust.” He suggests that perhaps the reason some can’t get their heads around how we’re living at the moment is because they lack those things in their relationships. I totally agree. We are smeared with the fear and doubt of others as they try and fit our template over their lives and see nothing but grief and pain. It’s impossible for them to fathom that opening up our marriages in the way he have has led to more fun, more love, more contentment, and a deeper meaning for all of us.

At this point, I’m way past letting other people’s biases and fucked up issues get in the way of my happiness. Or Belle’s or Drew’s or Axel’s. If you have a problem with us and how we’re doing things, turn that baleful eye back on yourself and see who you are. Because we don’t have a problem with this. Not one of us.

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The inconvenient ebbing

Have I mentioned I’m bisexual? Oh, that’s right. We’re calling it biflexipan now. I feel like I must have brought it up at some point…

When I was young, I didn’t really understand my own sexuality or how it worked. I say now I’m a Kinsey three (and I know I am since Buzzfeed proved it for me — where were they in 1989!?), but that’s something that vacillates. I only average out to a three. I couldn’t get a grip on who I was for a long time because I didn’t realize that the oscillation around three was something I didn’t really control. I assumed that I must be gay (or mostly gay) because other guys turned me on and I wanted them to fuck me and only gay men want to be fucked by other men (at least as far as I knew). My pesky insistence on also being turned on by women and really enjoying sex with them (plus my inability to feel a real emotional connection to another guy) had to have been rooted in my inability to let go of the assumption and expectation that I should be straight. Like I didn’t want to disappoint my mom by turning out gay so I never let myself feel it and live it. Also, many of my gay friends told me “bisexual” meant “gay as soon as he figures it out.” Perhaps I was only fooling myself into liking women because I was afraid of the alternative.

I remember a gay friend telling me at about this time that I was confused. I also remember reacting very negatively to that word (mostly because this same guy told me I couldn’t exist and I really felt that maybe I did), but really, I was confused about how I worked. I didn’t get that how my attraction changed was natural for me and not something I could influence. That it just happened. I also had no understanding at all that emotional sexuality is separate from…sexual sexuality. It wasn’t until I met Belle and the enormity of the emotions I felt for her swamped everything else I felt that I decided to stop worrying about it. I still didn’t understand me and I knew I wasn’t “cured” of my attraction to men, but because I loved her as much as I did, none of it seemed to matter as much. For the first time in my life, I was with someone with whom I felt a deep need to procreate.

FF about twenty years.

So now I’m in this part of my life where on Wednesday I have my face buried in snatch and on Thursday I’m sucking dick. On the one hand, how fucking awesome is that!? But on the other, it’s a bit jarring. I am not the perfect Kinsey three I average out to. There’s a certain fluidity to it, but there’s zero fluidity in the logistics of how it plays out. I see Drew when I see him and those dates are set weeks or months in advance. Whether or not I am especially interested in his…er, services, there they are.

Up to this point, it hasn’t really been a problem (and even now, to use the word “problem” suggests there is one and there really isn’t). Some visits, I’m really into the idea of him being here and others perhaps less so, but this time I was way over at like a Kinsey one-and-a-half. However the tidal forces of my sexuality work, they were ebbing relative to the idea of mansex. But, you know, even one and a half twigs is enough to kindle a campfire with, so things weren’t awkward or weird. He knew something was up. I dropped vague hints. Still, a fine time was had by all.

I suspected this mismatch of opportunity and desire was going to happen when, in the days leading up to his arrival, I found myself rolling my eyes at things he would say to me that otherwise would have been funny or whatever. This wall, or whatever it is, has always been there and when it’s up I can never get over. Whatever guy I was with or who wanted to be with me would say or do something and I’d be like, Oh god, what a fucking guy thing to say/do, and get immediately turned off. Often enough, the “guy thing” works for me, but when it doesn’t, it does not. This kind of experience used to really throw me for a loop. Cause me to spin into a kind of perpetual re-evaluation of who I was and what I wanted out of life. Now I’m just kind of, Feh. I’ll get over it.

Of course, this is in no way a reflection on Drew. Luckily, I like him as well as have sex with him so even in the middle of this little episode, things are good between us. There have been guys in my past with whom I really only wanted sex and, when this thing came along, I’d run away from them faster than Jerry from Tom. My affection for him is genuine so this isn’t a crisis. Just a little thing.

Just about nine hundred words into this post and I realize I have no way out of it. Seems a pretty fair metaphor. This is just who I am and there’s no way out of that, either.

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Fuck it, part two

Drew sent me a message telling me how he had informed a friend he was having lunch with about the guy he fooled around with on the side. Wanted me to know she thought I was hot and he was lucky. He also said he never thought he’d be as casual telling people this thing about himself.

I texted back, “Once you accept that it feels natural and is natural, it’s easy.”

“Agree with you. And there’s zero shame,” he texted to me.

And I replied, “They create shame, not you. They make it then they stick it on you.”

Even though I wrote it, as I hit send, I was like, Huh. That’s right. It was one of those moments where your subconscious drills through and injects something directly into your brain and you just say it. I was saying it to Drew, but it also felt like I was saying it to myself.

We don’t create our own shame. It’s made from the perceptions and assumptions of others and then we’re painted with it by them. Once I realized that, I also realized it has no power if I don’t buy into their perceptions and assumptions of how the world works. Their truths are not mine.

So, to reiterate, fuck ’em I say. They should be as lucky as me.

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Fuck it

This Dan Savage thing has been quite the adventure. And, funny thing is, it’s not really a thing. It’s just the prospect of a thing. Of maybe someday getting a call because some topic comes up Dan thinks I’d be helpful with.

Belle has been consistently supportive of the idea. Even after I reiterated to her that Dan has a huge listenership and I know for a fact people will recognize my voice, both people we know and don’t, and that some of these people will be work friends and could even be family. And, of course, that our kid might be listening. But she doesn’t seem to care. Either that or she thinks I’m totally blowing it out of proportion. But I think it’s the former mostly and I think that’s cool and it makes me very happy to see her confidence.

So I’ve really been thinking through the root of my issue with being on the show. The big one is the kid. I’ve decided to do what Dan recently advised someone who called in do, but with the reverse situation (she was going to defend her thesis which involved personal sexual details and her parents wanted to come to the defense). Basically, if it ever came to be, I’d preemptively warn the boy away from the show by telling him exactly what was going to happen. Not specifically (like, details) but that I’d be on it and talking about things he’d never be able to unhear. That if he wanted to maintain the firewall of parent/offspring non-disclosure of sexual details, he should just delete that one and move on. Then it would be up to him. I reject the argument that me being on the show would create some kind of stigma he’d carry through his life. Totally.

Once I got past that, I realized all the remaining angst was fear of embarrassment. And that kind of pissed me off. I hate secrets and hate hiding things. I far prefer living and talking and acting with freedom and unnecessary wariness. Of course, the right of others not to know is also very important to me, but as I said yesterday, talking about my life in a venue like Dan’s show is not the same as abruptly volunteering unnecessary and irrelevant personal details or even like having sex in a car or other public place (which, yeah, I’ve done). Getting over the hump of putting something personal like that out there is not inconsequential to me, but it’s surmountable.

Bottom line, I am not ashamed of who I am and how I live. And if anyone has a problem with it, fuck them.

In reality, the people listening to Dan who I know and would recognize me are probably not unlike me in that they’re generally sex-positive. Sure, there’s the prurient juiciness of getting a surreptitious look into someone’s sex life with whom you’re familiar, but I doubt anyone I really care about will judge me negatively or change how they deal with me. Maybe it’ll even spark a really interesting conversation. And for those who would think less of me…like I said, Fuck them.

So, that’s that. I DMed Dan back and told him I’d be happy to participate if he thought I could add some value.

A reader commented on my last post and posed the following questions I thought were worth answering:

  • Do you want to hang with Dan and be on a podcast?
    Fuck yes. I know he has his detractors, but I really like what I hear and read and think it’d be awesome to make his acquaintance. Not gonna lie. Sort of a fanboy.
  • Do you want to spread the word about male chastity?
    Sure. It’s a big part of why I blog. I think chastity and/or orgasm denial are practices that could help a lot of people in their relationships. They’re not just kinks. They’re useful disciplines that can be applied to help couples. I firmly believe that. I also think kinkiness in general, chastity and denial in particular, and even the subject of male submission carry too many cultural stigmas and need to be shown as not all that weird or unusual. If I’m called upon to stand up for men and couples like me and Belle, then I’ll do my best.
  • Do you want to become more known?
    Well, in as much as it helps with the previous thing, sure. But I’m not looking for fame and riches. Recognition for good work is always welcome, but if becoming better known leads more couples to successfully incorporate chastity or denial in their lives, then that’s great.
  • Do you want to become a relationship and sexuality counselor, a la Savage?
    Do we need more of those? (Also, he’s not a counselor, just and advice columnist.) I’m already doing a very specialized version of that here, to a certain extent. But ultimately, I have a day job and ample hobbies with which to fill my time.
  • What’s the need that’s causing an itch?
    Why do I blog? Why do I share my experience? Why do I take the time to answer questions (usually the same questions, over and over) about chastity I get here and via email and on Fet Life and on Twitter? I dunno. Because I do.

So, anyway. That’s where that is.

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Conundrum

Read my blog long enough and you’ll know that I’m a big fan of Dan Savage. Not just in a sqeeing fanboy way, but because I think his column and podcast make the world a better place for humans who have sex (read: all of them, excepting perhaps asexuals). I have a great deal of respect for him.

Last night, he sent me a DM on Twitter asking if I’d be on his show if a related question ever came in. I assume he was talking about male chastity. My initial and visceral reaction was fuck yes! But…

First and foremost, you may recall I gave my son a subscription to the Savage Lovecast when he turned 16. I have no idea if he actually listens to it, but he may. Imagine hearing your dad talk about his sex life in public unexpectedly when you were a teenager. Ew.

Second, there are a ton of people I know who listen to Dan’s show and by going on it I’d be “outing” Belle and I and what we do in the bedroom (and what I do by myself and with Drew and that Drew exists, etc.). That doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the first thing, but Belle’s been very cautious in the past with regard to protecting our mild-mannered identities.

Oddly, she was all for me going on the show (if the opportunity ever came up). Enthusiastic, even. I reminded her about the kid and her attitude was something like he’d find out eventually anyway. That was a surprise. One, no, he may not. And two, I mean, ew.

This presented a real “money where your mouth is” kind of moment for me. If not for the kid, I’d absolutely do the show. Even though it’d mean friends and probably other family members learning all about what Belle and I do and what I do and what I have in my pants. I do believe in the right of other people not to know those things, but I don’t think doing something like the Lovecast is like wearing a t-shirt that says “ASK ME ABOUT MALE CHASTITY!” I won’t lie and say the prospect of being outed like that makes me a nervous, but it’s who I am and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it at all. As with other kinds of outings, I think living on the other side of it would actually be better and/or more fun.

I’ve told Dan that I think being on his show would be a blast but I worry about the kid. That’s where it is. I don’t see a way past that, so I don’t know what will ever come from the offer. However, I am pleased as punch that Dan put it out there and more than a little honored. Dan nearly always has really smart, really knowledgeable people on and to think he’d give me the chance to be one of them is really great.

Funnily enough, I’ve often wondered what I’d ever call-in or write to Dan about. What sexual conundrum he could help me solve. And here’s one he helped create.

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Addiction affliction

My post on the wonderful world of porn elicited this comment from a reader:

Yes, porn is nice and dandy, except … well, sometimes (and probably depending on the user) it isn’t. In fact, porn might be indeed comparable to drugs, at least in the way it might fuck up (no pun intended) your brain due to long-term use and thus your “sexual abilities” … I went there, unfortunately, so I kinda know what I’m speaking of. It took me quite some time and lots of effort to righten the issue, so be careful, boys and girls: Just as with drugs, alcohol, food and most other things, also in porn the dose the poison makes. Interestingly enough, I eventually managed to “cure” myself by turning to male chastity, thus becoming able to end my porn-masturbation habit. You never know what those cages can be good for.

http://yourbrainonporn.com/about-this-site for further information on the topic, if anyone’s interested.

And: Thanks for your writings, thumper. In my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have thought of chastity to righten my problem, at least not on my own. Your blog set the wheels in motion, sort of. So, thanks again. 😉

Usual disclaimer here about me not being any kind of trained professional, etc., nor have I spent any time in a Holiday Inn Express recently.

I suppose it’s true people can become addicted to porn. Just like I’m sure some can become addicted to sex. My personal belief is claimed addiction to these things greatly outstrips actual addiction, though.

Based on personal experience and what I’ve gleaned from others, another way to view what often gets labelled as a “porn addiction” scenario could be:

  1. People in long-term relationships get bored with one another after a while (see: Sex At Dawn).
  2. One’s sexuality and/or understanding of it changes over time. (Optional)
  3. Porn is consumed, sometimes in excess.

If you/your partner gets bored in your LTR and/or the sex drops off to near-extinction levels (which it does in a lot of monogamous relationships) the first place one will take one’s neglected libido is pornography. I was there. I was that guy. Sneaking out of bed after Belle fell asleep to jack off in a room illuminated only by a computer screen was standard operating procedure prior to the events that led to our current dynamic. Do that long enough, and you might stop looking for release from your partner altogether. Do it often enough, and in those rare times your partner wants to have sex, you may not be able to provide it to them or be interested yourself. Also, you may discover a previously unexpressed kink/desire through the porn in which your current partner is unprepared/unwilling to participate. This interest misalignment can be compounded by neither of you knowing how to even broach the subject of it.

So, in that scenario, is the porn viewer “addicted?” I’d say no except that we human animals are genetically programmed to be “addicted” to the chemical hit of sexual release. We are all addicts in that regard. I tend to think we lean back on the addict label because it might lessen our responsibility for our actions. Alcoholics are sick, after all (and they are, I’m not saying alcoholism isn’t a real thing). If one’s an addict, perhaps it’s easier to explain the activity and/or deflect some responsibility for it.

Now, I don’t know you, commenter, and I don’t know your situation. Perhaps you really are/were addicted. But is seems to me impossible that all those who claim this addition can actually have it.

You say chastity was your pornography cure. I think that’s odd since my denial has led me to consume porn in far greater amounts than before when I could orgasm. Even though I’m locked up and unable to get off, it’s a much bigger distraction for me now than it ever was, even when I was young. So, are you cured of pornography or cured of the negative consequences of using it to get your rocks off outside your relationship? I’m the latter. I don’t come by myself anymore and that makes me a much better partner to Belle. Much more focused on her and the sex we have (even when it’s all about her). But I don’t look to the language of addiction to help me make sense of that. And it’s done nothing to lessen my interest in looking at and reading porn.

In any event, it’s great that chastity has worked for you and your relationship. If this site was part of that success, then even better.

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She never even considered it

The penis was very annoying Sunday morning. It usually only wakes me up (when it wakes me up) sometimes between 3:30 AM and 4:30 AM pushing and squeezing and straining against the Steelheart. Sunday, though, it did it four times starting at only 12:30 AM. Then again a few hours later then again at 3:30 then again at 4:30. Or maybe I should stay still at those times since I don’t think it stopped trying to be hard the entire time.

Things were not helped when Belle woke up. Saturday morning she had left bed before I woke up so there was no naked play time, but Sunday she was looking for my services. She made me close the door but did not retrieve the key as I thought she would. I was left locked up the whole time, though she did stroke my balls and perineum and then hit my nuts a few times just to mix things up. The intensity of the attempted erection was perhaps even more painful than the nocturnal ones as I got to work sucking her tits and fingering her snatch. She came hard and all I did was grind my steel package into her thigh.

In the glowy part afterward, she commented on how I was looking at a good long lock up since she’s going to be at a spa weekend with her sister and mother next weekend. She’ll leave Friday morning and not get back until Sunday afternoon. She apparently has no intention of  letting me out at any point before she leaves or the weekend following her return so that’s three solid weeks of steel time.

Sounds bad, but in thinking about it, that’s not so far removed from normal. With the exception of doctor’s visits, I was locked up pretty much the entire time since we go back from vacation at the beginning of April. She lets me out on the weekends if she wants me to fuck her, but the best I can hope for then is being out from Saturday morning to Sunday night. The last time I got to be inside her, I was only out about three hours.

In any event, I suggested she could have let me out Sunday morning for some pussy time but all she did was laugh a little and say, “You know what’s funny? I never even considered it,” before not doing anything at all regarding penis freedom.

I don’t know at this point which of us wants my chastity more. She really likes knowing what I’m not doing with the penis when she’s not around (if you were to ask her, that’s the first thing she’d say regarding what she likes about my chastity). I’m certainly not allowed to have an orgasm without her, but she equally doesn’t want me to have any pleasure from the penis at all without her (preferably, the only pleasure I get from it will be when it’s inside her). This has the effect of focusing me rather specifically on her and her pussy which is, of course, the ultimate intention of leaving me locked up in the first place. When she doesn’t let me out and I feel how hot and wet I make her, a gaping chasm of desire for her opens up in my chest. Looking back on how we were when we married, I’m sure it would never occur to either of us at the time that eventually we’d arrive at a relationship dynamic founded on her leveraging control over me through the denial of my sexual pleasure, let alone that it would be so successful.

I wanted in so bad on Sunday morning that I climbed up on top of her and pressed the Steelheart against what I knew was a soft, wet, and inviting opening.

“Like you’re going to feel anything,” she purred.

“I don’t. I don’t feel a thing,” I whimpered into her neck.

“Exactly.”

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The wide world of porn

Yesterday, I tweeted:

My first exposure to porn was a brief flash of printed penis when I was young. Had to be quite young as my recollection is it happened when we lived in the first house I can remember so maybe about five years old or so. I was at a friend’s who lived with his single mom and I remember a Playgirl magazine (at least I assume that’s what it was) open to its centerfold on a chair. That was the first time I saw another guy’s dick and I remember it totally blowing me away. It wasn’t hard (since that would be vulgar), but it was big. You know, compared to a five-year-old’s, they’re all big. This entire event lasted seconds but has stuck with me my whole life.

How I started to look at porn in a serious way is almost too cliche to admit: My dad’s Playboys when I was ten or eleven or so. He stashed them in what he may have thought was a good hiding place in the bathroom, but it wasn’t. I poured over these magazines, eventually even reading them. I wasn’t just interested in seeing the woman, I wanted to get a peek into this secret world of grown-up naked stuff. The things they would never discuss with or around a kid. The first time I saw the term “cock ring” was in a Playboy and they were not fans of them (they said it was a gay thing — the Playboy editors were fairly conventionally prudish, considering). I was also unsure of the dirty Alice in Wonderland comic where Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum stood side by side with their hands in each other’s pants and the mushroom, instead of making Alice taller or shorter, made her tits so big they burst out of her pretty blue and white dress.

Soon after, I recall looking at those and other magazines with my friend Larry (who was from Florida and profoundly racist) along with some other dude from next door and me saying something about how all these naked women were fine, but seeing a guy every once in a while would be good, too. They both thought that was pretty funny and laughed at me. Like, why in the hell would you want to see a dude, dude? That was the first time I realized that maybe what I liked (re: naked people) was not what the other boys liked. Or, at least what they’d admit to liking since Larry was yet another in a long line of purportedly straight boys who was happy to have naked play time with me.

In general, I think porn is a good and natural thing. Sure, it can cause issues (like unrealistic expectations of what real sex is like and body image issues for all genders, etc.), but wanting to look at porn and enjoy it is, I think, a basic human desire. I think it has a lot to do with our fundamental inclination towards sexual promiscuity (see: Sex At Dawn). We get off seeing others fuck because we’re wired to. Anyway, I think the modern version of my dad’s Playboys is way, way better.

The thing I really appreciate about Tumblr over the hidden stash of girly mags thing is that the act of using someone else’s porn at such an early stage fixes in your mind to what’s “normal.” You have no exposure to anything else so you don’t even know there’s a spectrum of erotic imagery and words from which to partake. And then you might innocently say something like, “Gosh, it’d be nice to see a naked guy every once in a while,” to your pals and get laughed at. On Tumblr, you can find the entire breadth and depth of human sexual expression laid out before you. And that’s a social benefit.

I believe that exposure to people who are different than those your immediate life experience typically includes leads to an understanding of them and their motivations and that leads to tolerance. I’m a big fan of tolerance, as a general rule. My main Tumblr is a pretty good reflection of my interests in that it’s filled with images of men and woman and men with men and women with men and women with women. A bisexual’s paradise. Over the time I’ve been curating it, 3,403 people have chosen to follow it on Tumblr (and another couple of hundred visit its URL every day according to Google Analytics).

Typically, what happens is someone stumbles upon my stash and likes or reblogs a whole bunch of stuff all at once, along the way following me. I can see through this reblogging/liking  and visiting their own Tumblrs what kind of stuff they’re interested in and nine times out of ten, they go for one gender or the other exclusively. But they also often follow me which means they’re going to be exposed to their non-preferred gender frequently as the images I choose to include get posted. So, when they’re on the Tumblr and getting all hot and bothered and playing with their fiddly bits (or clawing at the containers covering their fiddly bits), they’re exposed to all manner of erotic stuff. Stuff inside their comfort zone, stuff outside their comfort zone, stuff they never even thought about before. And not just from me. Tumblr is littered with this stuff. I wonder how many kids today identify as flexible or bi or pan or whatever word they choose (let’s all try and get “biflexipan” in our conversation today) because they saw things on Tumblr that got them off they wouldn’t have otherwise seen had they been paging through the stuck-together pages of Dad’s magazines?

I also wonder how Tumblr is affecting women’s sexual empowerment. Boys finding their dad’s stash is pretty common (or at least it was when the stash was physical rather than virtual), but I’ve never heard it said the same was true for women. At what time was porn for women even a thing? For how many women was their first exposure to the stuff through their boyfriends or husbands? Now, they can sample the entirely of human sexual interests in their own time and follow their own bliss. They can form an idea of their sexuality prior to going out and trying to practice it in way I just don’t think was possible before. I think this is a big fucking deal.

I know my son’s looking at porn because he’s a) 16, b) a human male, and c) has internet access. I’m actually pretty happy for him that he’s coming of age in this environment and not the one I grew up in. Eventually, my daughter will start to be interested in sex as well (come on, Dad, she already is). Perhaps the easy access to porn, which bothers so many, might end up being something good for her, too.

Based on the things I’m told and hear from my peers who have kids, my thoughts on this are pretty far out there. We like to pretend our children will never be as we were. That we can keep them from seeing that sex and sexuality is a thing in the world until they get married. But I remember being young. I remember the lengths I went to to explore sex and I also remember all the things my friends were doing right along with me (and sometimes to me). Humans are sexual animals. Even the young ones. I hope being able to see all of it like they can on Tumblr will help them find themselves faster than people of my generation or older.