Bisexual members of the LGBT community on Monday are celebrating the 15th Annual International Celebrate Bisexuality Day — also referred to as “Bi Pride Day” or “Bi Visibility Day” — to encourage bisexuals and their allies to be visible and proud of their bi identity.
Two things:
One, I didn’t know we omnisexually voracious people had a whole day to call our own. And Belle didn’t even get me a card.
Two, I didn’t know bisexuals had their own damned flag. But, oh yes…
Totally getting that as a sticker for my pick-up truck. Or tattooed on my ass. One or the other.
As I said the other day, Belle’s out of town. She’s visiting her BFF in NYC and, from what I can tell, having a wonderful time.
Yesterday, she FaceTimed me from the BFF’s apartment. She was on a couch in the living room and the BFF and her husband were on a another. I can hear them, they can hear me, etc. It’s like being on a conference call.
So we’re chatting about whatever, where they’re going to dinner that night, etc., and then she tells me about this cop. Apparently, while they were hanging out in Little Italy and walking around some cop winked at Belle. Not just a “Hey there,” kind of wink. More like a “How you doin’?” kind of wink.
Belle then continued to explain to me, with some enthusiasm (I mean, I can see the fire in her eyes as she tells me this and that its about the same color as her beautiful red hair), how exciting this was for her, how big the cop was (pretty big, I guess), and, of course, how cute he was (natch). All in front of the BFF and husband. Who does this? Who tells their husband how hot this cop was who winked at her and how she’s thinking of going back to try to find him, etc., in front of other people?
MINE.
Of course, this made me very hot. I didn’t know exactly how to respond knowing these other people who aren’t (as far as I know) clued in to our dynamic were right there, so I tried to be non-committal. I made a joke about how he wanted to protect and serve her and said something about how’d he’d use his nightstick on her if she was lucky (to which she said, “Yeah, I hope so.”). Otherwise, my insides were all fluttery and my balls tingled and my free hand went in my pants and squeezed them. This was all in good fun, but it was right up my humiliation and cuckold fantasy alley.
What I wanted to say was how fucking crazy it made me to think of her with this big cop. Of her down on her knees and unzipping his tight blue uniform pants and sucking his thick cock as it sprang out at her. I wanted to know just how big he was (over six feet? six-four? six-five?), ask her about his ethnicity, how much hair he had, and all that. I thought of his beefy hairy ass flexing with each thrust into her soaking and hungry pussy, her moaning with each deep penetration, and how she’d come at the very moment his seed would be spilling out of her in surging spurts.
Gah! Yeah. All that.
But, the BFF and her husband. So I made my jokes and tried to keep my voice calmly measured. But that’s what I thought about all the rest of the night as I clutched the hard steel and, obviously, into this morning. It makes me shiver, even as I write this.
Belle gets home late tonight. Too late for anything to happen, I know, but I can only hope she’ll let me eat her up. I want my face in her pussy where I can imagine I can still smell the cop’s sex clinging to her.
Belle went out of town for the weekend yesterday. She won’t be back until Sunday night. Last weekend, I was out of town. The four days in between she was on her period. I don’t think we’ve had sex in two weeks. Le sigh.
If you’re a man (like me) who is sexually frustrated (uh, yep) and is married to a woman who locks his penis up because he can’t be trusted not to play with it all the time when she’s not around (guilty) and, even if it wasn’t, you’re not allowed to come anyway (you’re looking at him), you can deal with this kind of situation in one of three ways. I know because I’ve done them all.
Be a whiney bitch. Feel sorry for yourself and act like nobody in the world appreciates what you’re going through.
Get mad at your keyholder. See number 1. You’re miserable, she doesn’t appreciate you or your sacrifice, and why doesn’t she realize this is time you’re never getting back? Life is unfair and she’s worse.
Fucking chill out and get all zen on this shit.
Regular men without the locked dicks or prohibitions on ejaculation can nip all this in the bud by nipping the fuck out of their buds (or whatever the kids are calling it nowadays). When you can’t do that, though, the brain chemicals and emotions and unrelieved reproductive fluids all gel together and form a hyperactive mojo ball that floats somewhere down behind your belt buckle, occasionally jetting out solar eruptions into your balls and cock or up into your brain making it foggy and unfocused.
Think of it like the core of a nuclear reactor. You can’t just let those things sit around anywhere. They need to be covered and maintained. In the wrong hands, they’re explosively deadly. When handled appropriately, all that power can be harnessed for good.
When I was first dealing with this stuff, I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know how to deal with the surges and the compulsions. Belle didn’t either, of course, or even really understand what I was feeling. But at some point, you figure out how to envelope all the crazy fluttering and need to do something and jitteriness. It’s still there. I can feel it right now. Physically. In my balls and in my chest and in my guts. Tingling and tickling me. But it’s not sending me into a bad place. Sure, it makes me want to look at a fuck-load of porn, but emotionally, I’m stable.
Unfortunately, I can’t tell you how to do this (so maybe you don’t want that book I was talking about after all). How to refocus and learn to draw on the energy at the moments she decides are right is key to being able to live with denial. I don’t know if those who are only denied for short periods can ever have enough time to figure it out (or even need to). That’s not my life experience, of course.
I recall early on someone left a comment here that’s not too much unlike what I’m saying. The horny guy in me railed against what he was saying. Pushed back on it hard. Hated to hear it. But the guy I am now gets it. All the way down. It’s not always easy. We’re playing with a kind of fire, to be sure. But whatever and however it works, it makes things better for us. That’s all that counts.
Denial does some crazy shit to your head. At least, I find myself thinking and feeling things I doubt I’d have ever felt or thought back when I was having orgasms on a regular basis.
First example. The other morning, Belle and I were having sex. Which is to say, the penis was pushing with all its might against the Jail Bird’s bars while I fingered her and sucked her tits, etc. There was a hope she’d let me out and fuck me, but it wasn’t looking too good in that regard and she had already come so I figured my window had closed. But, the key-like thing was unexpectedly produced and the Jail Bird was off (grudgingly, as the penis was nearly totally hard at the time) and I was on top of her and ready to go.
And at the very moment of penetration, the most remarkable sensation of gratitude came over me. Literally in a cool wave I felt from head to toe the second the tip of the penis felt the hot, wet confines of Belle’s snatch. There was a time in the less than great days of our relationship where I felt resentment at Belle for not having sex with me. I felt entitled and it made me angry at her for not letting it happen. Of course, there were a lot of other things going on back then, but I felt a real sense of injustice at the fact that she had all the power in that regard.
Now, it’s all been turned on its head. Of course, she still has all the power over sex. When, how, what. And now I fucking love it. The difference is, obviously, it’s a consensual thing. I’ve willingly given up any claim or entitlement as her husband and have embraced what I think is her natural right to manage our sex life as she sees fit (even with my suggestions or input, she makes all the final decisions).
And that feeling when I entered her. That feeling of pure blue gratitude that she’d let me do it. That she was willing to indulge my desire for it solely for its own sake. It made me so happy. It made me feel so cared for and loved. It wasn’t a new sensation, to be sure. I’ve felt that way before, but not often so sharply and acutely. It was remarkable.
The other example was from yesterday. I was sitting with an employee in a coffee shop and I was giving him performance feedback, etc. It wasn’t the easiest conversation, actually. Not confrontational, but not warmly positive, either. We were sitting across from each other and the sun was coming in behind him and all of a sudden I thought several things all on top of one another.
I wonder what his cock is like…? I bet it’s a fat one.
I wonder if he’s ever gotten a blowjob from a guy?
God, I want to suck his cock.
NO, seriously, what in the actual fuck is that all about!?
Thing is, I don’t find the guy especially attractive. He’s not bad looking (could be considered cute by some), but he’s not my type in any way. And I’m literally old enough to be his father. I’ve never had any kind of sexual thought about him in the seven months I’ve known him. And, in the middle of this pseudoreview, I was thinking seriously impure things about him for about 3.7 seconds. It was one of those middle of the sentence, train of thought losing, stopping and saying, “…um,” kind of moments.
This sort of thing has happened before. I recall once being in a professional situation with four young women (two employees and two clients) and suddenly feeling intoxicatingly turned on by all their hair and nice smells and pretty clothes. It’s all so sudden and intense and real. I assume it’s hormones. Has to be.
Of course, it happens most with Belle.
The thing I’m really curious about is how those sudden flashes of sexual desire work with otherwise straight guys. Do they ever feel that way about another dude? Or no. My presumption is that the constant (usually) low level of sexual frustration would act as a corrosive element against the expected sexual norms imposed upon us by society (assuming, as I do, that most of us have a small touch of the gay hiding within). I know that I think about cock A LOT more now (hence the several and gratuitous cock shots on The Portfolio – such as 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, etc.), but I think about everything sexual more now. Do those straight guys ever feel an unexpected stirring around another dude? Or does their compulsive Tumblr surfing ever turn up an image of a big hard dick that makes them pause and stare? Does it freak them out?
Honestly, I’d be surprised it if it didn’t happen.
Some of you may be paying sufficient attention (or have sufficient interest) to recognize that my Belle has a bit of a pattern: I usually get extended free time over holidays. One might think this is because she’s feeling generously moved by the holiday spirit or something but I think it’s mostly because she’s more relaxed at those times and wants easier access to the device’s contents. In either event, the recent long holiday weekend here in the US was one of those opportunities for freedom. Except this time, we drove several hours to the familiar retreat in the woods only to find the means to my escape was left at home. And, really, it was all my fault.
Let’s back that up. A week or so before the holiday, Belle had let me out so she could fuck me. Weekend releases used to be multi-day affairs, but now she’s more inclined to let me out the morning of and put my back in that same day. On this particular day, she told me she wanted to “change my outfit” (meaning a different device sprinkled in). I had been in the Steelheart for months (with only these day or two releases) and she wanted a different look. In the past, even if I knew her intentions to lock me up by a certain day, I’d wait for a direct order to do so or for her to bring me the device she wanted me in. But this time, I took the initiative to follow the spirit of what she told me. I went to the pouch in which she keeps her three steel devices and selected the Jail Bird. She hadn’t told me which one she wanted but I picked it anyway.
The Jail Bird, you’ll remember, is secured with a screw, not a lock. Instead of a key, it has a special bit that fits the security screw’s odd head. You can’t screw it in or unscrew it with any off-the-shelf screwdriver. I found the JB in her device pouch along with both the little bits and put it on and placed the bits back in the pouch so nothing would get lost. Then, later in the day, when Belle grabbed my crotch and started to tell me it was time to go in, she was happily surprised that I had already taken care of it. She was even going to pick the Jail Bird, so all was copesetic.
But.
I didn’t follow the typical ritual. That is, she brings me the device and key (or key-like thing) and I go and put it on and bring her back the key-like thing when it’s over. This time, I left the key-like thing in the pouch. Mistake. My fault.
While we were getting ready for the long weekend, it occurred to me a few times to ask her if she wanted me out while we were gone and, if so, to remember to get the key-like thing, but this time, I didn’t want to appear presumptuous. I try not to expect release and don’t ask for it and am totally satisfied being out of the decision-making loop. And I figured she knew what I was in and what it would take to get me out. So, when the moment came when Belle wanted to use the contents, she plopped the Steelheart key next to me on the bed. And the situation we were in became instantly clear. She had forgotten how the Jail Bird was different in the only way that mattered at that moment.
Of course, we had sex anyway, but the penis didn’t get wet (except at the tip and all down my balls where it leaked like a motherfucker). She really wanted it and I felt bad that my screw-up was denying her, the person who’s not supposed to be denied anything. At some point, I realized I could probably break out of it. Of course, it’s not a lock. Had it been, I’d have been screwed (well, you know, figuratively). But it was just a little screw with a weird head. I had a plan.
To be clear, I asked Belle for permission to try and break out. And that fact that I could even consider this is one of the things some folks don’t like about the Mature Metal security screw option. It’s not actually that secure (which is why some guys order their JBs with an extra hole in the post next to the screw where they can affix one of those little numbered plastic lock thingies to ensure accountability). All I had to do was go and find a pair of needle-nose pliers. I was able to grip the head of the screw sufficiently to turn it with the pliers and, just a few minutes later, handed Belle the screw. I was out and stayed that way for the rest of the weekend. It’s possible, had the screw been more tightly turned, that I wouldn’t have been able to escape. But it wasn’t, so there I was.
After that, the penis got good and wet. I was even able to hold my shit together sufficiently to allow to get off on it. Everyone was happy.
When it was time to go back into the Jail Bird back, I made sure to screw it on nice and tight.
As for the price: I think you should first decide on why you write the book – is it to make money or is it to give advice to those seeking it…?
That’s an excellent question.
It seems as though if all I cared about was advice, then this blog is it. Anyone willing to wade through the years of posts will undoubtedly find almost anything they need to know on the subject (at least is it pertains to my experiences). However, way back when I first introduced the purpose of this blog, it wasn’t so much I was thinking of advising others as much as I wanted a place to sound out ideas and even solicit others’ advice. That’s still the point, I suppose, though along the way my experiences rolled up into a big enough ball that I became an advisor, not the advisee. I think of the book concept as a declaration of where we’ve found ourselves. The opposite of the rambling and often inconsistent and contradictory play-by-play of the journey that is the blog. Told from a position of experience looking back, not from inexperience looking forward. Hell, when I started writing this I still hadn’t ever had anything locked onto to me and had barely been denied any orgasms at all (Oooo, he went three whole days without coming!).
Also, while this blog seems to be fairly well-known among a certain subset of netizens (yes, I did just use that word), I think that having a title listed in the various places one goes to find books can introduce a whole new group of people who otherwise would never find me because the internet is a scary place filled with some scary things (even my own site). When I think back on how we started, one of the first things we did was buy Male Chastity: A Guide for Keyholders. For Belle especially, this was a much easier introduction than most of what was available on the web then (with the notable exception of Tom’s blog from which I sent her many links). There was no Keyheld back then (or, for that matter, She-Held) and, even if there were, even those sites are more advanced than I’m thinking would have been right to share with Belle at the time.
With regard to the money thing, I’m not looking to make a lot off this. I’d like to get something in exchange for my efforts, but I already make a pretty good living and don’t really need the income (though more’s always better, right?). I don’t criticize Sarah Jameson her cottage industry, though that approach isn’t right for me. The more this feels like a job, the less I want to do it (which is the biggest threat to ever completing the book).
Tom’s site has more or less self-destructed, for reasons known only to him.
Which garnered a response from Tom to the effect that time has marched on and, like I’ve found, his blog is not what it was because he’s not what he was. Billus replied back that he’s lost interest in where Tom’s taken the blog, but it’s no skin off his nose.
The reason I highlight this (besides thinking that “self-destruct” is a tad harsh) is that I started this blog with an eye towards Tom’s and have thought that its evolution might also be influenced by his. I like to write. I like to write here. So what if someday I start to write about things other than those found in the chastity ghetto repertoire? These are, after all, personal blogs, right? What’s to stop me from talking about politics (man, I’d really like to) or media or whatever the fuck? Except that it may lead to fewer people reading it.
And that’s such a rub for me. No, I shouldn’t care about how many people read my words, but as a person who writes, I can tell you it’s a lot more rewarding when someone’s reading you than not. I have another blog written under my real name. If I get a dozen eyeballs a day (thirteen if one’s a pirate), I’m lucky. That lack of attention makes it hard for me to write there, though I know that more writing is what I need to do in order to get the eyeballs. In either event, as its popularity has grown, I’ve come to think of Denying Thumper as something like a channel. HGTV doesn’t show baseball games and ESPN doesn’t talk about kitchen make-overs and DT doesn’t compare and constrast UK Top Gear to US Top Gear (short story, US Top Gear sucks). But, of course, this isn’t a channel. It’s my personal blog, as I said. So why not write what I want? Sooner or later, it feels like I will have to expand the content here if I’m going to keep it going. Some of you may think of that as a kind of self-destruction, but where are the lines between your expectations of what I’m supposed to write about and what I really want to write about?
Anyway, it’s an interesting conundrum I’ve been pondering and one Billus’ comments bubbled to the surface.
I’ve decided to write a book about male chastity and orgasm denial. There, I said it.
I have hesitated to embark on this endeavor for a couple of reasons. One, I like to start things but I don’t always like to finish them (for example). I figured if I ever told you people about the book I’d have to deal with the occasional, “How’s the book going?” thing which, while an innocent enough question, is a poisonous thing for a habitual procrastinator to hear. Second, I have a problem with the idea of writing the guide to this stuff. I have a very deep yet narrow experience set and I don’t think it’s necessarily applicable to everyone else looking to explore this kink. I’ve never really felt entirely comfortable being thought of as an authority, though I’ve kinda let go of that by asserting in the introduction exactly that: My experiences are my own, my opinions are my own, take them for what they’re worth (which is apparently whatever the book ends up costing), maybe it’ll work for you, maybe it won’t.
I expect I’ll release it as a Kindle book. Maybe iBooks, too. Maybe even as a Lulu print-on-demand thing. Minimally, it’ll be on Kindle. One of many questions I may have for you, my readers, as this goes along is how much you think I should sell it for? I have a price in my head, but I’m looking for some other opinions.
The next thing I want to ask, as I get into the planning and structuring of it, is what kinds of things would you want to see in it? I assume there’ll be all the practical gearhead chastity nerdery stuff that I’ve already regurgitated all over the blog, but what else? Again, I have my own ideas about this, but I think now’s a better time to ask for input than after I’m almost done with it.
Finally, there’s how this will relate to the blog. I expect a couple of things. One, I probably won’t be updating it quite as often while writing since all my energy for that will be going into the book (I guess that all depends on how my room full of monkeys with typewriters experiment goes and how how many monkeys I can procure). Who knows, though. Second, I will never (ever) make this blog nothing but a front-end sales pitch to the book. Promise. I’ll probably have some kind of element that promotes the book here, but I don’t see this being a giant hand reaching into your bank account. Third, it’s entirely possible that laying this giant thing onto the world will end up being some kind of dénouement for the blog. I’m already sometimes feeling like my tank is running low and there’s just not a ton of reasons for me to do this, but then again, I can’t imagine not doing it. I’ve tried blogging elsewhere about other subjects, but so far, I can’t stop doing this. I don’t say this to encourage a bunch of “BUT WE LOVE YOU!!” kind of comments, so please, don’t. I’m just sayin’ I can’t know how I’ll feel about blogging on this particular subject once the opus has landed. If it ever lands, of course. Blogging, in general, is a better way for someone like me to write in that I don’t like the idea of a big commitment, don’t want to plan much, and would rather say whatever I want whenever I want to, not according to some master layout.
Finally finally, has anyone reading this written a book on a subject like this? Or any subject, I guess. Any pointers? How did you approach it? What would you do differently if you had it to do over?
Belle’s had me in the Jail Bird for the past couple of weeks for the first time in a long time. She’s made the Steelheart her main axe lately but seems to enjoy being able to poke and prod the penis through the JB’s bars and seeing it all bunched up and straining against its confinement.
In any event, having it on for a while has reacquainted me to some notable attributes of the device and a few other things worth mentioning…
The darn thing really is pretty comfortable. I continue to think the oval ring option is a great idea and one I think other device makers should offer. When we eventually get around to sending the Steelheart back for a new (slightly larger) A-ring, I’m going ask if they can make it oval.
The comfort of the device is evident in how much better I can sleep in it. It wakes me up during the early morning penile pressure check only about 30% of the time whereas the Steelheart (with it’s approximately 2 mm smaller ring) wakes me up more like 75% of the time (more often when I first get into it and less often the longer she keeps it on me). I assume this is due to the slightly larger ring circumference but also that it’s double-width and wider than any other A-ring I wear.
Darn thing feels really light. It’s about 20 grams (or about 10%) lighter than the Steelheart, but it feels like more.
So much easier to clean.
As I noted in my original review of it, there’s one annoying thing that’s just endemic to the design. The cage is made up of four bars: two that go along the top of the penis shaft, around the tip, and then back up the bottom and two more that make the same shape along the sides of the penis shaft. This makes a neat little square that’s more or less where the slit is at the end of the penis. All of this is fine and dandy, but I find that the end of the penis doesn’t stay lined up with that square. For whatever reason, it always shifts to the left a bit and the penis opening clomps onto the bar on that side of the square like a bear in the zoo trying to chew through its cage. Here’s an image of the clomping in action. Not a big deal normally. It only requires a moment of pinky prodding to get stuff aligned before taking a leak (otherwise, it’s radom spray pattern city). The problem comes in when the forgivingly supportive underwear I normally wear while in the Steelheart allows the JB and its occupant to move around somewhat freely in my pants. If the penis is anything other than totally flaccid, that bit of penismeat that’s left inside the square will be seemingly randomly get pinched against some combination of the underwear fabric, the seams of my jeans, and the steel of the device. That fucking hurts. Like, “FUCKWHATWASTHAT!?” kind of hurt. I find that I can’t just adjust the device to make the pinching stop. I need to shift the penis somehow. Not easily done in a casual way while in the presence of others. The way to keep this from happening as often, I’ve found, is to wear more restrictive (and concealing) underwear. It forces the device to stay situated more or less in a downward position, keeps the package from moving around as much, and the little meat flap doesn’t get pinched.
Finally (and this doesn’t have much to do with the device itself), my nuts are definitely getting bigger. I assume this is due to extended lack of orgasms. I can tell because of how differently it feels putting them through the various A-rings and cock rings we have. With the Steelheart, there is now always a definite moment of marked wincing as each pops though. However, if you look at the picture of me used in my review of the JB from last August compared to the image I linked to from today at the beginning of this post, they’re just fucking bigger. Maybe it’s not the testicles themselves that have grown. Perhaps it’s the epididymis or the vas deferens enlarging due to infrequent evacuation of their contents. Hard to know, but it’s a real thing and useful to know only in that it has an impact on how steel devices fit over time. I assume this is why the Steelheart’s A-ring (the oldest in Belle’s “fleet”) feels so much tighter than it used to.
Hi – thank you for all of the great info on your blog. I started being locked in a CB6000s about 6 months ago, and your Tips & Tricks article help greatly during the acclimation period!!!
I am starting to look for a metal device, and I am also considering a PA. I have been trying to find reliable info on getting a PA specifically with Chastity in mind, but I can not seem to find anything. I did receive some information from a very respectful source stating that I should start with a 10ga needle with a 8 ga ring pulled through then let this heal for about 6 month to a year then go to a 6 ga to use with a device. Does this seem reasonable to you? Can you share with me your experience of how you moved forward with your PA and how you stretched it to where you are today? It would be greatly appreciated!!
Wait, you’re not going to do this yourself, are you? Egad.
I went to a local establishment and originally received an 8 ga ring. I don’t know what size needle she used since she did it and was the professional and all. She said some places start you at 10 ga, but she felt that was too narrow for that kind of piercing. Eventually, I got it up to 4 ga. I didn’t go back for that. I bought the tools I needed to open and close larger gauge trapped ball rings and just kept pushing bigger ones in there after there seemed to be enough play in the hole. You can kinda tell that you’ve stretched out enough because when it’s tight your pee won’t come out the piercing.
I don’t think there’s anything chastity specific you need to think about with regard to the piercing process itself, but I’ve found anything much larger than a 6 ga ring to be too big to comfortably wear inside a device. You could get a device with a larger space inside to fit a higher gauged ring, but then you’re violating the “smaller is better” rule. Even though I wear 4 ga jewelry when unlocked, I go back to a 6 ga ring for security (at least, I’m pretty sure it’s 6 ga — as I sit here and think about it, I’m not sure exactly…it’s not bigger than 6 ga…might be 8 ga actually). It’s not usually difficult to get back into the 4 ga stuff after I get out, but if I’ve been locked up for an exceptionally long time, there’s sometimes a moment of difficulty
Six months seems way too long to wait, let alone a year. A year!? The tissue in your penis heals really quickly. It’s one of the great things about genitel piercings. Of course, every penis and person is a unique snowflake and all, so your mileage may vary, but I don’t think you’d need to wait longer than 12 weeks or so to try and move up. The piercer can give you some guidance there. You will want to move more quickly, but the worst thing you can do it put pulling pressure on the piercing too early. If you’re going to use something like the Steelheart and fixing Belle has on me, you should be OK. There’s little to no pulling. If you’re going to use something like a PA security cable outside your CB6K, watch out. That’s some painful shit, in my experience. Of course, if this is only ever going to be for chastity security and the jewelry will be worn inside the the tube, there’s no reason you need to go any bigger than 8 ga.
I may have mentioned before, but the kids were away from home last week. That led to one off-the-hook day spent mostly in bed and me mostly in her and us fucking like crazy teenagers, over and over. I never came, but she let me ruin one with my hand when it was all over just to let the massive pent-up quantity of ejaculate out and relieve my poor achy balls. Three or four huge squirts leapt unaided onto my stomach. Still horny, though. Always that.
The balance of the week was spent doing romantic datey things since Belle was pretty well fucked out. Several meals out, culminating on Saturday with hours of free time spent at a rooftop restaurant drinking cocktails, munching, and waiting for our Blue Jasmine start time to roll around while we talked and talked. We came around to the topic of fantasies.
At first, it wasn’t about our fantasies. We were talking about a friend and their fantasy and how their partner was interpreting that and how it fit into the partner’s fantasies (or didn’t). It’s not my tale to tell, so I won’t, but the concept of The Line came up. That is, some fantasies can only work in your head, either because they’re impossible (fucking a centaur is Dan Savage’s favorite example) or because, while they’re superhot, you just can’t actually do them without seriously damaging yourself or your partner emotionally (or some innocent victim). Others you can do. For us, chastity and denial are some of those. I found it (it’s always the guy who does, right?) and she was willing to indulge me and, hey presto, now it’s an integral thing for us.
I declared that I know precisely where my Line is. What’s on the “nope, never going to happen” side and the “sweet baby jeebus, that would be sofuckinghot” side. Such as my fantasy of her fucking other guys. How could I possibly want that, she wanted to know. Surely, that’s on the never going to happen side? No, not at all. I have this really unreasonably potent humiliation/inferiority/unfairness kink. For example, she gets to come whenever and however she wants and I never do. Even when I’m locked and loaded and have been fucking her for twenty minutes and all it’ll take is an extra thrust and a half to fill her up, I don’t get to because…well, just because. Sorry. It’s not a huge jump from that, in my mind, to her getting off however she wants, or with whomever she wants. Preferably, another person who fucks better than me. Preferably, a person who fucks so much better than me that she chooses (either with or without his consultation) not to fuck me.
And, yeah, I get that, on the one hand, the mind reels at the concept. Who in the fuck would want that?! I mean, really want it? Well, me, I guess. And I feel pretty sure that it would push my buttons. The thing is, I’m really confident that Belle and I are inseparable. We will be together for the rest of our lives. No studly fucker will change that. So, while I’d burn with jealousy that he got to do what I wanted to but wasn’t allowed, while there may be times when it’s hard and I would struggle, I know that I’ll always have her. It’s the ultimate form of denial but with no chance of abandonment.
The other “problems” with this is the fact that, if I may say so myself, I’m really good in bed. Premature ejacualtion issues aside (understandable for a guy who only comes, on average, twice a year), I know what I’m doing and Belle really digs me. Also, Belle connects sex with a deeper emotional attachment. She’s not just going to fuck any guy. Getting to a point where she would would be a long process. Not one she seems interested in expending any energy towards. I get that. This is a case where our lines seemingly bisect and, I presume, nothing will ever happen.
The other fantasy of mine we discussed was the one recently brought up here on the blog of me being fucked and used by one (or two) guys. I only brought it up because we were talking fantasies and Belle, surprisingly, said she didn’t think that would bother her. Not nearly as much as me being with another woman (which I have essentially zero interest in). She said she thinks of me getting fucked by a guy as not much different than me masturbating or playing with a sex toy. And I agree. Emotionally and with regard to how much of threat it would be to our relationship, it’s about the same. Guys for me have always been about sex. I have a very close friendship with one of the guys I was with when younger, but there was never enough emotional heat there to combust into romantic love. I’ve never been able to do that with guys.
Anyway, I was surprised to hear her make that “guy on guy sex is like masturbation” comparison because she’s said in the past (quite recently, actually) that she’d have a hard time sharing me. In any event, I’ve found that the worst sexual experiences of my life were with people I didn’t know or care that much about (or even like, on one occasion) so I, too, would need to have some kind of connection with them that was something more than sexual and, like Belle, I’m not entirely sure I’d be willing to expend the energy to find and cultivate that kind of thing. Or, in the end, that she’d let me.
Belle has fantasies, too, but it’s kind of amorphous and about being with another woman. Nothing too specific. If she has more than that, she keeps them to herself (alas). I don’t know where another woman for her would fit on her Line, but it reminds me of this:
Sometimes, you don’t know where The Line is until it’s staring you in the face.
