Wrong way ring

For the past few days I’ve been feeling a weird twinge in the neighborhood of my PA. Nothing horrible and nothing I couldn’t deal with, but every once in a while it would just feel..odd. This morning, after my shower, I asked Belle Fille for the key so I could check on things.

What I found surprised me. In my write-up on the Steelheart from not too long after I got it, I showed it being used with a 4 ga ring, but I’ve since moved to a different ring that’s about 8 or 10 gauge since it’s easier to get on and off, takes up less room in the tube, and doesn’t clank around as much (and is actually just as secure). But, of course, the hole is still at 4 ga (and maybe even a little bigger). So anyway, what I found was the thinner ring had rotated so that the ball had gone up my urethra and was trying to get back out the other side through the piercing. Four gauge is a lot bigger than 8, but not nearly as big as the ball in the 8 ga ring. Regardless, it had gone so far I couldn’t at first tell which direction it had taken to get there (through the end of the cock or through the piercing). Basically, it was stuck. And that feels weird.

No big deal. I pushed it back down through the end of the cock and removed both the ring and the PA fixing to let things settle down a bit. The cool part of this little adventure is how possessive Belle was of the key. When I asked for it, she had a slightly suspicious and maybe even skeptical look on her face and, as soon as I came out of the bathroom (maybe 5 minutes later, if that), her hand was out immediately and the key was back in it’s little blue satin bag and safely ensconced somewhere in the inner reaches of her purse. There was a time when she left the key sitting in the same place every time and I always knew where it was. Now, it’s very much her key. Not mine, hers.

Along with that, she’s been dropping little comments here and there that go a long way towards making me feel all warm and squirmy inside (not unlike some of WendyWicke’s tips). So when I said yesterday that things are going pretty OK, it’s this kind of behavior from Belle that goes a long way toward making that the case. I know she’s thinking about me in the device, I know she likes things the way they are, and I know she’s appreciative of what I’ve given to her. And I’m so appreciative that she’s accepted it and even embraced it to such an extent.

I know it doesn’t make for very entertaining reading, but the lack of drama and angst is appreciated on all sides.

Talk to the hand

So, here we are two years in and here I am a blogger with not a lot to blog about because things are going pretty OK. I could talk about how I’m a month in on my three month orgasmless cycle and how Belle’s not letting on as to when I’ll get to come (Before Christmas? This year, even?) or I could write about the night alone in a downtown hotel we’ve scheduled and how it’s way hotter for me knowing that she’s not going to let me come there, but I don’t know…it’s all the kind of stuff we’ve been over before. At the moment, I can’t seem to find a reason to talk about it. Maybe later.

Over on Chastity Forums, however, a new member calling himself Bez introduced himself to us recently. Here’s a snippet of what he said:

About 18 months ago I read about male chastity which I interested me. I discussed the subject with my wife, to my surprise she took some interest agreeing that I did ‘play with myself’ more than I should and she would try being my keyholder.

And that reminded me of something I did want to blog about. And I’ll say right up front that I’m in no way picking on Bez who seems like a very nice, very sincere guy.

If you read Bez’ entire intro and the stories of many, many other men, not only on CF but also on other forums or blogs or miscellaneous online groups, you come to realize that an awful lot of us have similar stories. First, we’re at, around, or over 40. Second, the spark had gone out of our marriages. Third, we turned to chastity to help bring that spark back. Yup, check, check, check. But, overlaying that, and present is Bez’ intro, is the “I jacked off too much” theme. That is almost universal in these stories.

My issue with this is that it’s the man’s masturbatory habits that seem to be implicated as the cause of the marital issues the couples are having. If only he’d stop punching the monkey, it seems, their sex life would still be healthy and they never would have misplaced the spark. Frankly, I find that perspective to be anti-male and anti-sex. I contend that masturbation is not the malady but merely a symptom of a larger issue.

I do speak from experience here. My marriage to Belle had turned sexless after 10 years and I not only turned to porn and masturbation for relief, but eventually a living person. The porn, masturbation, and even the other woman were not the cause of our problems. We were the cause of our problems. Jobs, kids, stress (see jobs and kids), and the unsexy reality of sleeping with the same person for a decade all contributed to us losing focus on that which allowed our relationship to remain strong: our sex life. We stopped trying. Both of us. Yes, I cheated and that was wrong and I’m not trying to lessen what I did, but it was a symptom of a different issue. We stopped trying.

Men, by the way, are different then women. I’m not a woman so I can’t say how it is for them with any kind of certainty, but guys are constantly producing the byproduct of our reproductive systems and are constantly being prodded by millions of years of evolution to get rid of it. We cannot help but find ourselves with the urge to have sex at fairly regular intervals. If sex is nowhere to be found, we know what to do. Luckily, it’s not a chore. Most of us like jacking off. I view it as “sex for one” – clearly inferior to multiple person sex, but still pretty damned good (if you’re doing it right). I abhor any suggestion that masturbation is dirty or wrong or in any way negative because it’s not. It’s natural and it’s fun and, yeah, I miss it.

I also dismiss the idea men turn to masturbation because they’re lazy or can’t control their urges. Like I said, jacking off is pretty good, but sex with another person (especially if that person is someone you love) is almost always better. The prevailing sentiment seems to be that men abandon sex in favor or masturbation all by themselves, as if their partner in the relationship is blameless. This simply isn’t true. It’s a complicated set of events that leads us to that state, but lack of trying or lack of wanting on the guy’s part is not to blame.

So when I hear things like “we agreed I played with myseld more than I should” it makes my teeth grate. Men are not the reason marriages drift apart and their sexuality is not the problem. I am not saying that some men haven’t developed destructive masturbation habits. People can do all kinds of things to excess (from sex to drugs to video games to eating), but most men are not like that. Most men are horny and healthy and addiction has nothing to do with it. Let’s not play the victim card here. Men who masturbate instead of having sex with their wives are not sick or addicted or at fault. They’re just men.

That being said, there are obvious positive attributes from strictly managing a man’s orgasm. Doing so seems to trick the guy’s brain into a tight and (sometimes) intense courtship cycle. It can be a great benefit to some. But, as a wiser man than me has already pointed out, locking a couple hundred dollars worth of plastic on a guy’s dick does not a healthy marriage make. As far as I can tell, the hormonal brain acrobatics are only responsible for a portion of chastity’s benefits. Locking a guy up and then resuming things as they had been is a recipe for disaster.

The single most important reason it works (when it works) is that both of them are focusing on each other again. She “controls” him while his only outlet is her pleasure. In biology, beneficial symbiosis is called mutualism and it’s what happens in a successful chastity arrangement. It’s also the supreme irony: His denial of orgasm leads to a much more fulfilling sex life for both of them. But, even here, the orgasm or his lack of them isn’t the primary driver. It’s the attention he’s getting from her and vice versa. That’s why chastity makes marriages better. Interaction, intimacy, and attention.

At least, that’s my experience. YMMV.

Blogiversary

I said there wasn’t cake, but then I found this.

Two years since Belle and I brought chastity and denial into our relationship. Two years of success and failure (the former outnumbering the latter). Two years, four devices (so far), a handful of orgasms for me, a much larger number for her. Two years and no signs of stopping or ever going back. It’s like we have a whole new marriage.

Thank you, Belle Fille.

Monkey bites

Tomorrow is Denying Thumper’s second anniversary. I don’t have a cake or anything, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

At the beginning of this past weekend, I told Belle that I thought she needed a minimum of two orgasms to make up for the two week long menstruation/travel/illness-induced dry spell we’ve had with regard to sex. She seemed receptive to the idea so, as we settled into bed Saturday night, I was highly expectational that something was going to happen.

It all started kinda slowly, but picked up speed rapidly. I was kissing her and licking her nipples and pressing against her sex when she latched onto my neck and started to bite and suck. Shortly thereafter, I was had three big, dark monkey bites on my shoulder/neck and a painfully tight tube. The erection her cock was trying to achieve was not the run of the mill kind that manifests whenever she allows me to pleasure her. It was seriously trying to bust out of the steel. And it hurt.

“I want you to eat me out,” she said breathlessly into my ear. Fuck yes.

I got up to close the door and the entire package of cock and device stood straight out and bobbed up and down with each step. By the time I turned around, she was totally naked with legs spread wide. I crawled up between with my head lowered, thankful for what I was about to receive, and dove in. I found, though, that the cock was so hard inside its prison that I couldn’t lay on my stomach as I usually do. The shaft refused to bend down and out of the way so I had to go down on Belle with my ass raised off the bed. That changed my angle of attack and made it so that I could only reach up and finger one nipple at a time.

She was quite enjoying the attention I was able to give her pussy and after a short while said, “Fuck me with your fingers.” I inserted first my middle and then my index finger and fucked them in and out, curving them upward to maximize G-spot stimulation, all the while continuing to flick my tongue over and around her clit. Her juices were everywhere.

When her orgasm came, I could feel it everywhere. The energy of it ran out of her pussy, through my fingers, and across my whole body. The encased meat throbbed in sympathy. I kept my tongue planted even though she was pushing it away. By the time the orgasm crested, she was limp and glowing and I was ringing like a struck bell, face still in her pussy, fingers still up her snatch.

Sleep came late for me that night.

Sunday, we were supposed to break out Mr. Darcy, but we had a bunch of family over that night and she was too tired to play. Her decision was somewhat disappointing, I admit, but even though I was really interested in more Belle-time, my disappointment didn’t curdle into anything worse. It’s at times like these, lately, that I’m able to somehow redirect the negative energy in a way that actually makes me feel good. It’s all for her, after all. She holds all the cards and deals them how she wants.

She snuggled up into me and fell asleep while I watched the Phillies dismantle the Reds, hand on my steel tube between my legs. I was and am horny, but two years in, I feel like we’re doing it right. Right for us, anyway.

Hand versus brain

Got home late last night, as expected, following yet another post-season loss by the Twins to the Yankees (don’t even get me started) and pretty much went right to bed. I wasn’t at all horny and had little interest in trying to make myself that way. I fell asleep.

After a bit, I turned over and partially woke up. My hand absentmindedly found it’s way under my pajama bottom’s waistband to the flaccid and free cock.

“Oh yeah,” my hand said, “that’s still here.”

“Um…what are you doing?” my sleepy brain asked.

“Nothing,” said my hand, “Go back to sleep.”

“OK.” *yawn*

Squeeze.

Whoa,” said my brain, “That’s not nothing.”

“Well, it’s not much.”

“Just leave it alone. It’s not yours to play with, and besides, it’s sleeping. You should be, too.”

“Right,” said my hand, “Just a sec.”

Squeeze.

“Stop squeezing that,” said my brain, unamused.

“Leave me alone. I’m not hurting anything. Look, it’s not even hard. I’m just…squeezing.”

“Why? Why are you squeezing?”

“Because, that’s what I do. I grip things. I squeeze them. Mind your own business.”

The cock started to plump up a bit.

Jesus!” my brain hissed, “You woke it up! You really need to stop this.”

“Really? I really do? You realize, of course, that I can’t do anything by myself. This is only happening because you want it to.”

Squeeze, stroke. Plump.

“I…I…,” stammered my brain, “I do not. No, I don’t. I don’t want you to do that…not at all.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said my hand.

Squeeze, stroke, squeeze, stroke. Stroke, stroke, stroke. The cock was at 80% and filling fast.

“Look,” reasoned the hand, “We’ve hardly seen this thing move for, like, four days. We should keep going. Just to make sure. You know, just to make sure it still works and all.”

“That…sounds reasonable,” said the brain, “But as soon as we do that, it’s back to sleep and you leave it along.”

“Sure. That’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Ninety percent…stroke…stroke…98%…squeeze…stroke…100%.

“Um…*pant*…er…OK…that’s enough, don’t you think? It’s working and all…”

Strokestrokestrokestrokestrokestrokestrokestroke!

, said my brain.

“YEE-HAW!!” said my hand.

STROKESTROKESTROKESTROKESTROKESTROKESTROKE…stroke, stroke…STROKESTROKESTROKESTROKESTROKESTROKE.

“Moan,” said my brain, “groan.”

STROKE! STROKE! STROKE! STROKE! STROKE! STROOOOOOOOOOOOOKE!

“FUCK!” exclaimed the brain, “Too close! Too fucking close! Stop NOW.”

Dribble.

“Fucking hell, look what you almost made happen!”

“…” said my hand.

“HEY! I’m talking here!”

“What, sorry? Oh, hi. Yeah, I was just smearing all this nice slippery precum stuff all over the head of the cock. Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Er…well, yes, now that you mention it, yes it does…feel…nice…”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s not the damned point! You nearly got us in a lot of trouble. And now I’m totally awake. More than, in fact. You need to knock this shit off right now or I’m going to have to get us out of bed and put that damned steel thing back on. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Then will you stop?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Pause. “No.”

“That’s what I thought,” said my brain. Then, for good measure, it added, “Asshole.”

Five minutes later I was locked up tight. Very tight. And my hand was grasping the steel tube, pulling on it, squeezing my balls.

“Fuck,” said my hand.

“Go to sleep,” said my brain. And I did.

On my own recognizance

I’m done being sick. Well, I’m 92% done being sick. I’m feeling much better.

Monday night, I was feeling so crappy that every last scrap of my libido was obliterated and the device was seriously bumming me out. Belle’s still gone, so I popped the emergency key and took the Steelheart off. I only felt slightly guilty because I know Belle would have let me take it off had she been here. Regardless, there was zero chance I was going to do anything against the rules. There’s no better chastity then whatever the fuck I had.

Tuesday, I went to work in the morning but bailed before lunch. I still had no interest in the unencumbered meat, but I was feeling well enough to try the PA-5000 again and see if my theory about using a smaller gauge hook would make it more comfortable. Short story is no. I wore it for about eight hours and started to feel the same uncomfortableness in my PA so I took it out. In a perfect world, I would have put the SH back on, but I could tell there was still no risk of falling off the wagon.

Today, as I said, I feel much better, but the cock still lies dormant. My illness seems to have reset whatever denial vibe I had going back to zero (or maybe even less than zero) and my interest in sex is only barely recognizable as living. There’s a pulse, but not much else. I feel like I’m treading a fine line between legitimately letting myself out due to illness and abusing the opportunity, especially since Belle won’t be back until tomorrow to make sure I’m on the up and up. I honestly don’t want want to take advantage of the situation. Not that I could at the moment. I’m fairly uninterested in anything sexual and am not sure the equipment would cooperate even if I could muster the required focus.

In any event, if my recovery continues along its current trajectory, I may need to reestablish control tonight. I’ll be at the Twins game (GO TWINS!) until late and may just be too tired when I get home, but as I said, there is a very slight stirring down there. The pilot light is on and I can just now feel the tank starting to heat up. If not tonight, then no later than tomorrow morning. I don’t think I could legitimately justify being out by the time I see Belle again tomorrow night.

Three things that suck

The three things that suck for me right now:

  1. I’m sick. Like, flu sick. And that really pisses me off because a week ago I got a flu shot. I’m so sick that I didn’t even have an erection for 36 hours starting Saturday night. The penis never felt smaller bouncing around in the voluminous tube. Illness-induced shrinkage, I’m sure.
  2. Belle was on her period all weekend. Like, in the “no, please don’t touch me” kind of way. They’re not always like that, but combined with my aforementioned illness, there was no joy in Thumperville.
  3. My Belle Fille’s in The Town of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels on the Porciúncula River (AKA, Hollywood, baby!). I hate being away from her. Hate it hate it hate it. Plus, I forgot to ask for the Token before she left, so assuming I recover, I’ll be limited to porn. No touchy.

Friday night, we discussed letting me try the PA-5000 again for the weekend. I’m thinking my issues might have been caused by using a 4ga PA hook. I wanted to try a thinner one to see if it’d make a difference. But, she forgot. I forgot. It never happened. And I was sick. And she was all gross period feeling. And now she’s gone.

OK, pity party over. Back to the game shows.

No news, good news

It’s been a quiet week on Lake Wobegon, er, I mean in the rabbit warren. Both Belle and I had stressful weeks at work which only let up yesterday. To celebrate that fact, Belle got her period. In any event, there wasn’t much interest all the way around in sex, though the weekend is now upon us. Maybe she’ll let me get away with something, blood or no blood. We’ll see.

In other Thumper news, the Chastity Forums are off to a great start. If you’re not already a member, check the place out and consider singing up. It’s great to have a community of like-minded folks that’s essentially run by those same folks. Sorry to say the old Male Chastity Forum has gone a bit quiet. Well, not that sorry. OK, not at all sorry. If you head over to the forums now, you’ll see the device I’m currently obsessing over.

I find that minding the forum and participating in some of the threads has lessened my blogging energy. Some people seem to have an endless supply, but I wake up with a finite appetite to be social online and the combination of blogging, Facebook, and forums tend to use up every drop by the time I get home at night. I’ve even let the Portfolio suffer this week. I suppose I could always try working

Anywho, I didn’t wan the blog to go dark and leave some of you wondering what the deal was. I’ll write when something happens.

Holy shit

Steve “The Glow Inside” Mayhew has returned. One of my most favorite bloggers is back and apparently has been for a week or so. PLUS, not only that, he’s now packing some kind of chastity device.

I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. Honestly.

Unfortunately, I just discovered this and have to run out so I can’t actually read what Steve has to say. But you can. Go. Now. I’ll catch up with you later.