Inside edging

I had this idea to track my relative horniness from day to day. It’s a myth that being in chastity long term and disallowed orgasm for weeks and months (honestly, not sure when I had a real orgasm last) causes one to be ever more horny every day. If that were true, eventually the kept among us would combust in sudden flares of superheated hormonal energy brighter and hotter than the surface of the sun.

More truthfully, being kept in an unreleased state doesn’t make one infinitely horny. I have found it does make one instantly ready. Always willing. My 0-60 time can be as close to the least amount of time that can be measured by modern instrumentation. But no, I’m not always distractingly, cravingly, achingly horny.

But I sure have been the last several days. It goes like that. Bumping along being more or less what passes for normal when you never orgasm then BOOM, horny as all fucking get out. Like, I am going to make bad choices kind of horny. It’s like and I guess literally is being under the influence. But not of a drug or man-made chemical. All hormonal. And it’s been like that pretty much all this week, culminating yesterday.

And the thing is, I have no idea why it’s like that. Why aren’t I always super horny? Or why aren’t I just always super ready? What causes the fluctuation? And if there is a cycle (as there is with so many natural things), what is it? Is this like some weird kept male version of a period?

So yeah, I was thinking maybe a tracker or something. Because if there’s one thing kinky people seem to love more than the Muggles, it’s tracking and quantification. And rules. And categorization. And process. Geeze, we’re like a bunch of management consultants.

Anyway, had I been tracking yesterday, I would have been at 11. The effects of which I wrote about on the other blog (for some reason, could/should have been here). But the tale of yesterday didn’t end with what I wrote there. Oh, no. Not even close.

The thing about the type of horny I was yesterday (ooo, sub-categories! hot!!) was that I was horny for everything. And since Belle was working and we’re all trapped at home and we still have a kid here with us, that meant whatever actions I took as a result of being in that state had to be on my own.

So, as the previous post relates, that meant some dildo and plug play. But it wasn’t enough. One thing led to craving the next. I had five different things in my ass by the end of the day and it left me with a fat and juicy prostate. The kind of swollen I can feel. Had I been the kind of person to have orgasms when he wanted them, I would have had a massive one. Explosive. But I’m not. So it was just in there burning and bugging me. Quite distracting.

Then I remembered. I have a thing specifically designed to deal with situations like this. I even wrote a review about it! The njoy Pure wand.

So I secreted myself away with it in the bathroom. I popped the big end (naturally) inside and let the natural curve of the wand find my nagging bits. Once it found them…uuuuunnnnfff.

The round metal bulb at the end of the wand ran up and down over my prostate and, through it, I could feel how swollen it was. I found I could angle the wand like a handle to control the level of intensity of the stimulation. For a while, I was worried I was only making things worse. It felt so fucking good, but was ultimately just more more. I didn’t need more. I needed less.

Then…things started to evolve. The sensations grew even more intense. I got on all fours like a dog in heat and grasped the wand like a joystick (which, literally, it was) and worked that fucking prostate hard. I started to feel like I was going come.

OH. Oh, god, Oh, fuck. I’m going to come. I’m…unf, I’m going to come…URGH…I’m…I’m coming…I’m…I’m…coming…I’m…ARGH…

I didn’t come. But I was right there. So goddamned close. Two things occurred to me. One, getting a person into the condition I was in and then strapping them down and using the njoy Pure wand on them the way I was using it on myself for hours would be an excellent way to torture some poor son of a bitch. And two, all that being the same but also having access to the penis and jacking off to completion while feeling that could, actually and literally, cause my head to explode at orgasm.

I can’t tell you how long I was on the edge like that. Edging myself from inside. Could have been 30 seconds, could have been an hour. Hard to tell time when your brain is liquified. But eventually the sensation began to change. I had an odd feeling of pressure and something like needing to pee. Instinctively, I felt that if I flexed as if I was coming, I would…express the built-up ejaculate. So I did.

Oh my god, there was so much. It just kept coming. Over and over. A little push, a little flex, and GOOSH. I was well and truly milked.

And after, I could feel the relief. I felt empty in a way I didn’t before I started with the wand. And, yes, relief, but not satisfaction. Not like I had come. Nothing like that. 100% as turned on and horny as I had been, but without the physical component of having an overly-juiced prostate. Frustration without the discomfort.

If yesterday was an 11 on the Horn-O-Meter, today is about an 8. I feel like I’m past the peak. Took about three or four days to get there and, I expect, it’ll take about the same to come back down. Part of feeling less horny today is thanks to Belle letting me get her off this morning before she started work. Feeling her come releases pressure for me, emotionally and psychologically. Pressing my body into hers while she writhes and convulses with orgasm, with my legs clenched around hers and my finger pressed against her clit and both our heavy breathing mixing. That time when her pleasure and desire flow out of her. A little bit of mine flows out, too. The reflected satisfaction of sexual service. Of her pleasure always being paramount.

Fuck, now I’m back up to 9.


We took a Sunday afternoon nap. That means, Belle slept and I kinda dozed and eventually woke up and looked at my phone until she was done snoozing.

“Is the door locked?” she asked sleepily.

I nodded. She kissed me on the mouth.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked. I was told to be ready to come out of the device but she had left me in. I had no idea what she wanted, though I figured it would likely be a quickie fingered orgasm.

“I’m letting you out.”

All right, Thumper. Game on.

She handed me the key and I pulled the covers down. I was already naked so I stuck the key in the little brass lock and turned it. The lock slid from its chamber freeing the cage from its cockring mate. Setting the lock and key aside, I pulled the cage off and felt the bulb end of the Looker 02’s urethral insert slither its way down the inside of the shaft it had secured for a week. It caught briefly in the head of the penis and then popped out. Then I pushed the thickening meat back through the ring and winced as the testicles popped through, right first then left. I was free. The steel was on the nightstand.

When I rolled back over towards her, she was naked. The penis was hard and, as I wrapped my arms around her, it brushed against her thigh. The feeling of it caused me to gasp slightly. From no sensation to the best sensation in under 30 seconds.

“How can I serve you, Belle Fille?”

“I want you.”

“Do I get to come?” The $64,000 question. I was ready for whatever she said.

“…No,” she replied evenly.

Instinct took over. I climbed between her legs and pushed the end of the aching meat against the lips of her pussy. She was dry, but I pushed in. I wanted in. She felt tight. Lack of natural lube and at least two weeks since anything had been in her. I shifted my hips to gain further penetration. I was gambling that she wanted it a little rough. A little guy-centric. A moment later, the penis found her hot and wet. She sighed.

“I have no idea why I did that,” I said.

“It feels good,” she purred, “Really good.”

“Is this what you wanted?”


I pulled the hard shaft out and pushed it back in, spreading her gathering wetness around. I bent my head down and started to suck on her nipple while I fucked her slowly. I shifted again and pushed in as deep as I could, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and placing the other hand in the small of her back. I wrapped her in my strength and exerted just enough pressure for her to feel that I was holding her tight and she couldn’t get out. Not that she wanted to.

I thought fucking slow would let me last longer and I felt I was doing a pretty good job being as leisurely as possible. Her snatch was hot and totally wet now. Her breathing was starting to get more shallow.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered.

That was it. I can go for a long time and trick the orgasm that wants out into holding its own, but once I hear her start to really get into it, I lose my cool. Two or three slow thrusts later, I had to stop. I could feel the ejaculate locked and loaded. She wanted me to keep going, though, and wiggled her hips. That was enough to trigger a long jet to shoot out of me and into her. I had to pull out to keep it from going any further. She had said, no orgasm.

Now that I had her going, I didn’t want her to lose momentum. I quickly worked my way down to her pussy and dove in. Immediately, my mouth was full of my own seed. I swallowed it down and worked my tongue over her clit, lapping more of myself than seemed possible as it continued to leak from her. My throat was thick with it and its scent mixed with hers to fill my senses. My hands worked their way up to her breasts and tweaked her nipples as I eagerly ate her out. I wondered if this is what it would be like on those night she had her boyfriend over. Would she let me off the floor long enough to clean his semen from her before they slept in the warm bed and I on the hard floor? Would he watch or already have fallen asleep in his post-orgasmic stupor?

Belle’s hips started to buck. She was moaning and pushing against my forehead with the palm of her hand as the intensity of her orgasm crested but I pushed back harder keeping my tongue working over her electrified clit. Her legs crushed my skull and she pulled a fistful of my hair while her ass was off the bed. If she wanted to be taken hard, I was going to make her fucking well feel this orgasm.

Once it was over, I rested my face against her inner thigh and kissed at her taut tendons as she came down a little. The mixture of scents was intoxicating to me. I almost felt dizzy from all the pheromones attacking my brain. I climbed back up her body so that I was between her legs again. She took the penis in her hand and guided it into her.

Jesus fuck, was she hot and slick. Her juices, my semen and spit, and the full ripeness of her post-orgasmic pussy all mixed together and I started to fuck her. Hard. I could still smell us both in the smeared fluids that covered half my face and it drove me mad. It wasn’t long before I could feel the building orgasm and I. Wanted. It.

“Can I come?”


Ugh. Wimper.

I stuttered and stopped just long enough for it to climb back up inside me and then I had my hard, strong arms back around her, holding her tight and close. I buried my face in her neck and clung tightly to her and fucked her harder than I had in a long, long time. The lizard was off his leash and going to town. This was just fucking. Just me having my way with her. Doing her. Nothing gentle or submissive about it. I felt another orgasm winding up. A big one. The one I wanted. The lizard said DO IT but the bunny fought back. Each thrust into her caused her to exhale a little. There was no tenderness in what I was doing to her. No room for that. Just lust and desire and burning intensity.

“Come on!” I said to myself under my breath as I slammed into her. Not sure to who I said it or what it meant, but there was a stand-off inside me. Would I? Or not?

Of course not. In the end, I tensed up and then just knew. It wasn’t happening. It was like the lizard’s back was broken. Again. He slinked off and I shuddered and collapsed onto Belle.

“OK, Thumper, that’s enough.”

I panted. Gasped. Gathered myself.

“Is it what you wanted?” I asked quietly.


We laid in bed a long time after. I felt both the feelings of sleepy post-orgasm and the raw edge of continued desire for her. I wanted her to throw me over onto my back, crawl on top of me, and fuck me until I came. I told her.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, really, I do.”

After a bit, I said, “OK, just between you and me, you can admit it now. You wish the penis was bigger, don’t you?”

She laughed. “No!”

“Yes you do. I know you do.”

She laughed some more. “Well…just a little.”

“OH! So it’s true! Now all I need to get you to do is admit that while we’re having sex.”

We both laughed.

Before I got out of bed, the Looker went back on. The fat bulb on the end of the insert pushed past the opening of the penis (helped along by the slick presence of ejacualte and pussy juice). The penis fought back and tried to grow, but that just made it all the tighter when the lock found its home and the key came out.

She held out her hand and I put the key in it. Belle got exactly what she wanted. I hope she always does.

Knife’s edge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hello there

How long has it been since I last posted!? Shameful.

Well, I can only hope to catch you up the way you do a friend who’s decided to start watching Lost with you when the seventh episode comes on: bullet points (usually delivered over the opening credits, but I have more time).

  • Why haven’t I blogged? Frankly, I was depressed. Nothing to do with Belle or sex or anything like that (though the hormone roller coaster may have played a supporting role), just stuff. One of those times when the various circles in your life’s Venn diagram all come together in random suckiness. A harmonic resonance of shit, so to speak. But I feel like I’m coming out of it. For example, I’m back on the horndog wagon. Feeling pretty frisky. That’s always going to help the brain chemistry.
  • Have I had an orgasm since we last met? Nope. Almost three months now. Keep reading.
  • A little while back, I mentioned I was hoping Belle would use a newish hitty thing on my ass and she did but I didn’t like it all that much. Having never been struck by a cane, I wasn’t sure how it would work out. Apparently, I’m more of a flogger boy. Or a wide-backed wooden hair brush boy (which is what she turned on me when the cane fell through).
  • Belle fucked me again and, like last time, I was able to hold off so she could come. I got really close, but sent the orgasm off the rails by thinking of politics. Not as fun as baseball, but remarkably effective.
  • Belle also let me have a week out of lock-up (in the Steelheart Short), but I’m back in now (JB2). The first night out, I edged myself for about an hour while reading naughty stories and, while I didn’t come, I got very close and leaked quite a bit. The thing that got me to stop was a kind of weird free-flowing of ejaculate that just poured out of the penis. It didn’t shoot out and it didn’t feel anything at all like an orgasm, but a huge quantity of the stuff just kept coming out. The bedroom reeked of it (funny how when you only smell feminine sex how pungent male sex smells). Anyway, I freaked out because I was afraid Belle would wake up and think I cheated, so I licked up all I could and went in the bathroom to clean the rest off. It was all over my stomach, down into my bellybutton, coated over my nuts, and all down one leg and still dripping. Guess I had some build-up I needed to get rid of.
  • As counterintuitive as it may seem for a guy who a) sports a penis that’s almost always locked in steel, and b) isn’t allowed to come even when it’s not, I decided to purchase a fancy new Fleshlight. I know I can’t use it very often but I’ve always really, really wanted to try one and I got a coupon code in the email so pulled the trigger. All I’ve been able to do thus far is stuck my finger in there and holy shit does it feel good. NO IDEA when I’ll be able to poke it as intended by the manufacturer, but I’m looking forward to the chance. Now that I’ve written this, it may never happen (Belle didn’t know I got it until she read this).
  • My birthday was between now and my last post. I told Belle all I wanted was something that wouldn’t cost her any money, and she (bless her) thought I meant I wanted to come. Au contraire. I wanted not to. The present I wanted was the absence of a thing which is kinda deep if you think about it. Anyway, she agreed to give me what I didn’t want (or whatever, this is getting confusing) and now I won’t come until January. That’s essentially six months, assuming I don’t blow my load on New Year’s (or accidentally some time in between). I know that Belle likes it when I come so I appreciate the present.
  • The upshot of that is that after I got her off on Sunday, she let me fuck her and damn but didn’t I want to come? It was kinda cool knowing I couldn’t because of the aforementioned birthday present and that lifted the often-encountered “man, I really want to but I hope she won’t let me” conflict. Even better was telling her how badly I wanted it and hearing her say of course not, silly rabbit.

I think that’s it for now. Nice to be back.

Almost there

I get home tomorrow. I will have been away for something like 11 or 12 days, depending on how you count. I really need to be back there.

Previously, I expressed a concern that being free for so long would tempt me to do things with the penis I probably shouldn’t. First day away, I admit I diddled a bit with it, but as I got further and further from Belle, my interest in it lessened more and more. I’d wake in the tent, snuggled into my sleeping bag, with the penis stiff and hard, but I had basically no desire to play with it. I gave it a few wanks to see if I could kindle a response, but there was nothing. For more than a week, it became just this little tube of meat I urinated through. It was as if the spirit of my sexuality was left behind with her and all I took with me was the useless machine it normally animated.

But, as I’ve driven the many miles back to Belle, the penis has started to become interesting again. This morning, the first time I updated The Portfolio since I headed into the woods, I found my hand wrapped around the hard flesh, pumping it furiously and feeling the heavy PA ring knock around at the end of it. My scrotum tightened up and I felt the electric fire starting to build inside, but I stopped well short of orgasm (though a little leaked out). Then, for the rest of the day, I was very aware of the unencumbered condition of my crotch. Even peeing became somewhat erotic in a strange way. I could feel the stream passing through my prostate and my fingers on its skin would cause the penis to respond by chubbing out and looking very tempting.

It occurred to me at some point over the course of the day that it’s been about a month since Belle last let me come, so it’s only natural that I’d find the penis needy, though it’s reawakening as I get closer to her is more than little interesting. I’m still at least two weeks away from my next orgasm as Belle previously said I wouldn’t have one before August. I find myself craving two things. First, her. Her presence, her scent, her warmth, and her pleasure. Second, her control. Cold, hard steel locked onto the penis keeping it out of reach and less of a distraction. Maybe its stirring is driven by the knowledge both it and I have that its days of freely knocking around down there are coming to an end.

Less than 24 hours to go…


A reader calling himself Dave sent in the following via the feedback page:

A comment and a couple of questions… I don’t know how you find the pics for the portfolio, but you get the most stunning collection of ‘art’ porn I have seen. Very nice.

Thanks. The Portfolio is a distillation of over 200 other Tumblr sites dedicated to the distribution of smutty pictures. I go through them and select the ones I think best represent my editorial vision for the collection. The only hard and fast rule I have is that no guys will ever be shown either having an orgasm or immediately afterward. Dripping is fine, but if I don’t get to come, then neither do they. I tend to shy away from pictures where women appear to be being objectified in a standard, boring way and prefer images where she’s shown as the center of attention. I like the boys as much as the girls and like the more obvious female domination shots, but find most to not have the aesthetic I want. Basically, I’m nothing more than a curator of my specific view of what’s floating around the Tumblosphere. I’m glad you like it!

Now the questions. I have a desire to go into long term chastity (just need someone to act as the keyholder) but:

A keyholder is not technically required, but personally, I don’t think I’d do this unless there was another person participating. Good luck to you on finding that special someone.

1. how do you keep your balls shaved while locked up? Just looks ‘problematic’

Oh, it can be. Some hair just can’t be gotten to with the device on, but I’ve become adept at pulling skin around and shaving off what I can. The trick is using a razor blade that’s too dull for your beard but still has enough edge to cut the hair. If you grow hair on your shaft as I do, there’s not a hell of a lot that can be done about that.

2. I have been told that long term chastity can be detrimental for a man.. that we need to be ‘drained’ every now and then or it can cause prostate problems. Old wive’s tale? I presume you have done some research in this regard.

I think that’s a largely overblown issue. Our bodies are already designed to eliminate fluids from the prostate (some men have nocturnal emissions, for instance, though I never have). Personally, I’ve found that I drip precum pretty freely and will also expel seminal fluid while going to the bathroom (both number one and number two, if you must know). I am not a doctor, obviously, but am firmly in the camp that all the evidence out there is contradictory and inconclusive. In my opinion, there is no well-documented need for a man to be “drained” and, all other things being healthy and functioning, should be able to go without orgasm indefinitely.

PS.. love the blog.. would love to sit down with you over a  few beers and have a looong chat.

I love having the blog as an outlet and the being able to interact with the readers like this and on the Chastity Forums, but yeah, I do have a deep longing to actually talk to others about this. A few beers and long chat sounds great to me, too (though based on your IP address, the flight over would be annoyingly long).

Squeaky clean

Air travel stinks. I was talking to my coworkers as we flew back yesterday and one of them remarked that when she was young her family dressed up to fly. How it was such a big deal. Now, planes are nothing more than busses with wings. Endless charges for such luxuries as baggage and rude attendants and knees pushed up into your chin for three hours. Man, I’ve had it.

Anyway, I’m back home. Finally. Night before I left, even with a numb dick, I couldn’t fall asleep. It was a combination of being really horned up and having had a glass of iced tea with dinner. That little extra jolt of caffeine mixed with the hormones kept me up to four in the morning so I got maybe two or three hours of sleep. The tossing and turning went on so long, the feeling came back to the cock and in my delirious half sleep, half awake state, my hand found it again and again. I’d edge myself then control would come back and I’d roll over only to find my fevered brain reinserting all kinds of pornographic thoughts before me and the cock would swell and the whole thing would start over again. I knew that if I just came I’d likely fall asleep quickly, but I resisted the best I could. It was one of the hardest evenings of orgasm control I’ve had in a while. The barrier between pre and post orgasm was membrane thin and, by the time I pulled up and stopped stroking, I was leaking great quantities of ejaculate. I didn’t get the tingly sensation of orgasm and the thoughts and desires came back quickly enough for me to know it wasn’t an orgasm, but it was a very close scare. In the future, even if Belle lets me go to these things unprotected, I should probably bring the Steelheart along for those times I feel I’m losing control. When it’s in place, even if I hold my own key, the Rule of Law descends and my relationship with the cock changes completely.

Got home well after Belle went to sleep last night so I’m still free. I took the opportunity to clean out the Steelheart tube thoroughly this morning. I find that when I’m locked into it for weeks at a time (as I just was – essentially a month), a type of build-up appears at the end of the tube. It appears to be some kind of mineral-type stuff that I assume is left there by frequent contact with urine. It clings to the steel and can’t be cleaned out with soap and water, but I’ve found soaking the tube in a vinegar bath loosens it up enough that it can be wiped out.

I took the opportunity afterwards to take the above picture. I shows how tight things are in the end the tube with the PA fixing and 4 gauge ring. All that squished with the penis meat into a 2.5″ long steel cage. Time will tell when the meat is again so squished. Belle’s given me no indication when she wants it back in there.

Stryker’s beast

If you’re really not into graphic accounts of self-administered anal action, this post probably isn’t for you.

Last time, I said the “realistic” Jeff Stryker dildo seemed ridiculously large. That got me doing some research to find out how big he really is. According to a page called Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Penis Size But Were Afraid to Ask, Jeff Stryker’s cock is 7.5″ long (measured in the proper way along the top, from the pubic bone to the tip). As you can see in the picture below, the “realistic” dildo is actually about 9″ long measured in the same way. That’s about a 20% increase. I’d estimate the insertable length to be about 8″.

Besides the length, the really interesting thing about this dildo is its girth. The circumference just under the head is a half inch greater at 7″ than lower down the shaft where it’s 6.5″. While I can’t find any reliable information about Stryker’s actual girth, I can say these proportions are accurate based on the numerous times I’ve watched him put it to use, though the actual size of the dildo is much larger.

So yeah, it’s bigger than the original. For me, it’s at the very limit of a usable size. While I might be able to get something bigger inside me, that’d just be showing off and not really all that enjoyable.

I haven’t had anything this big to play with in a while. In the recent past, when I felt like getting fucked, I’ve used a cheap vinyl dildo that’s 6″ insertable with a circumference about 4.75″. Nothing too impressive, but also pretty easy to use. Prior to climbing Mount Stryker, though, I made preparations. First thing I did was remove the hair around my asshole. I’ve found that hair is hard to lubricate and will grip a dildo and get pulled in and out with it keeping things from being nice and slippery smooth, so I shaved an area about two inches all the way around. Also, I used one of the other new items I bought with the dildo: the Colt Anal Douche.

As Dan Savage says, having anal sex without douching your rectum is like having oral sex with a mouth full of food. The obvious issues of residual fecal matter is what squicks out so many people who might otherwise really get into anal. This is too bad because it’s so easy to deal with when you have the right tool and the Colt Anal Douche is that tool. The really nifty bit, and what makes it better than the run of the mill bulb enema you can get at any drugstore, is the 6″ attachment you put over the spout on the bulb. The water comes out of it along a seam near the top as opposed to squirting out a hole way up into the colon. It feels better and keeps the water where it needs to be. There’s no point in filling your lower intestine with a gallon of water since the only part that really needs to be cleared is the rectum. All you have to do is fill the douche with warm water (get all the air out!), squirt it up your butt, and push it all out. After three or four times, if the water coming out is as clear as when it went in, everything is ready to go.

As I said, it’s been a long time since I had anything this large in my ass. I approached it in the only way you can when dealing with this much mass: slowly and with tons of lube. I used water-based Astroglide as opposed to the silicone lube. I like to put a condom over my toys to make clean up easier and also because I find vinyl actually causes irritation and stinging. Perhaps I’m allergic. In any event, I decided to get things going with the smaller vinyl dildo, sheathed in latex, to open things up and distribute lube all along the soon-to-be assaulted path. Maybe it was because I was staring down Stryker’s beast, but the smaller dildo slid in rather more easily than normal and was soon in all the way to the base. I could feel my prostate was already crackling with electricity. I left the small dildo in for several minutes while preparing the main event. Once it was out of the way, I moved the big guy into place.

It was as if the smaller dildo had never been there. As the fat, blunt head of Stryker’s beast pressed against my hole, I remembered that there’s nothing subtle about this cock. It’s all business from the very start. My sphincter complained, but I kept a steady pressure against it. I’d push, let it sit there as the tight ring of my ass stretched against it, then I’d pull back to give it a few seconds rest. Then I’d push again, trying to get just a millimeter further. At about 2″ in, the fattest part of the cock was starting to come into play and I found the compression of my hole against the condom squeegeed all the lube off. I had to reapply it again and again.

Push, wait, withdraw.

Puush, wait, withdraw. Lube.

Puuush, wait, withdraw.

Puuuush, wait (oh, god, the stretching), withdraw. Lube.

Finally, after maybe 15 minutes of this, my sphincter had finally opened wide enough to envelope the fattest part of the cock. I admit, if I had never actual had this thing up my ass before, I might of chickened out at this point. The sensation of being opened to that extent was incredibly intense and I only had about a third of the thing in me. But I persevered, slowly yet forcefully, until the 7″ circumference of the first half was past my rim.

After that, it was like the cock got sucked up inside me. As the shaft moved along and the slightly thinner part entered me, I felt myself being opened like I hadn’t been in a very long time. Eventually, I had the dildo in all the way to its balls. I couldn’t move it, though. I was so full of it, the best I could do was leave it in place and let my chute stretch along the entire 8″ of the beast. I’d leave it in as long as I could stand it, then pull it all the way out for more lube. I felt my rectum collapse behind the retreating invader.

Then, back in. All the way. I actually bottom out at precisely the point in which the Stryker dildo is in all the way. The entire length of my rectum is opened by it and its head presses against the point where my anal passage turns and becomes my colon. It’s as if it was custom made for my body.

After another 15 or twenty minutes of repeating the cycle of putting it in, leaving it there, and then pulling it out for more lube, I felt myself loosen up sufficiently to start fucking. I can’t even describe it. It’s like having your guts punched, but in a good way. Eventually, I was pistoning the fat dildo in and out, faster and faster, grunting and moaning and feeling the stretch on the way out and the filling sensation on the way in. Over and over. I can’t say how many times and for how long. In the past, I would have come well before I got to this point, but of course, I couldn’t even see the cock let alone stroke it. My entire being was focused on the feeling of this giant slab of rubber invading me, insistently pushing my prostate and everything else out of its way again and again.

I eventually just tired out. My legs were cramping and sweat was flowing down my forehead. A cock that couldn’t come was fucking a body that never would. The only barrier to going all night was physical fatigue. So much effort had gone into even getting to the point were I could put it inside me, that my tank was close to empty by the time things really heated up.

Finally, the dildo slid out heavily with a slurp and a pop. My asshole gaped at the abuse. I felt it with my fingers and easily could get two inside to massage my fiery gland. I could tell I had leaked, but the natural lube mixed with the Astroglide so I couldn’t tell which was which. I used the douche again to sooth my chute and flush out all the extra lube. I had to concentrate to keep my asshole closed so the water wouldn’t simply fall back out. The first time I pushed it clear, the action caused a huge glob of semen to escape the end of the chastity tube. I was well-milked.

After cleaning up and putting everything away, I went to bed, exhausted but still spinning. I read some porn and worked The Portfolio until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. After about three hours of sleep, one of my various electronic devices made a small sound, but it was enough to wake me up. I was in a hormone hangover, still buzzing with unexpressed sexual energy. My hand reached around to my asshole and it felt smooth and well-fucked and entirely not mine. It was as if I was fingering a stranger. A stranger who had been used and abused. I could feel the absence of the giant cock inside me and I remember why I loved it so much. I wanted it again right then. I wanted to feel it split me open and stretch me to my fullest, I wanted to feel it punch me again and again.

But I didn’t get up. Instead, I went after my nuts. I squeezed and pulled and slapped them. I found that whatever internal lock that usually keeps me from really working them over had been released, so I crushed them and beat them and felt the tendrils of warm aching pain snake throughout my body. Instead of pulling up when I normally hit myself, I was able to strike them with greater and greater force. They felt swollen and hot and they throbbed. All of my unreleased sexual frustration was taken out on the fleshy punching bag. Putting my finger back on my hot, shaved hole, I decided it felt not unlike a pussy. My pussy. Wet and loose.

Exhaustion retook me and I fell back asleep with the ache of my abused testes still rolling though me. I slept fitfully and woke often, each time finding my hands either on my nuts or along my crack. This morning, I’m still swimming in the hormones from the night before. My ass is craving the Stryker dildo again. I can still feel the void it left inside me. My guts hunger for it. Night can’t come fast enough.

Feel the burn

Last night, after Belle went to sleep and told me I was allowed to play with myself, there was a point where I had stroked the cock so much that had I dared to even breathe on it, I would have had an orgasm. I had already milked seven thick slugs of ejaculate from myself without satisfying, even in the slightest, my need to come. I was able to pull up with the awareness of how close I was, but just prior I was in a place where I wanted it so bad that my hand wrapped around the cock formed a single thing upon which every molecule of my being was focused.

And then I let go. And the cock bobbed and quivered and flexed and I knew that if my fingers so much as as grazed the flared head of the cock, that I’d orgasm (most likely dryly). Thinking about it now causes a low thrum under the stiffening cock.

It was fucking torture. Fucking. Torture. The smell of the semen was everywhere and the taste of it was thick in my throat and its sticky sliminess was rubbed all over the cock shaft and between my fingers but I did not come. I dared not. It would be a betrayal of everything I lived for now, including Belle’s trust. I existed in that vaporous microscopically thin space between desire and control and it made me burn.

When I knew I had taken things as far as I possibly could, I cleaned up and went to bed. The cock leaked and leaked onto the sheets so that after 20 minutes I was laying in what felt like a post-coitus wetspot. Besides the leaking, the cock also stung from the abuse on its skin – skin that’s not too often abused that way and has become thin and sensitive. The ring flopped in the PA hole and caused the inside of the cock to feel raw and sore. But still, I wanted more. I wanted everything I could not have because it’s no longer mine to take.

My sleep was fitful and I often found myself cleaving to Belle, pressing the hard cock into her leg and putting my hands inside her bedclothes. I want her so bad. Then, now, always. I’m consumed by desire for her and the gift only she can give.

Living this way is so much harder than being in the device. So much more intense and distracting. Belle told me I was going back in on Sunday morning (which is an odd time), and truly, I will be thankful to have the cock put out of reach. Especially if she doesn’t let me come before the key turns.

Back to normal

On a day that a lot of guys look forward to getting their dicks wet, I got the opposite yesterday when Belle told me it was time to lock me back up.

My freedom wasn’t a function of Belle’s timing. There were a combination of events (including air travel) that required I be free and those events were over on Sunday, so Valentine’s Day or no, she reasserted her control over the situation. The free week and the single orgasm ensured that my hands were down my pants as often as possible. My urge to orgasm can never be sated with a single squirt (at least, not anymore). At first, I wasn’t sure what I was allowed to do with regard to diddling her property, but the rules seem to be I am allowed, while free, to touch myself but, of course, am not allowed to have an orgasm.

While I edged myself countless times over the week, I can say I was never actually close to losing control. The higher brain functions were firmly in place and every part of me, from my hand to my brain to the cock itself, knew that there may be milking but there would be no coming. I honestly don’t want to come without her now. I feel like our dynamic is really humming and, frankly, my relationship with her is worth so much more than a furtive squirt. I see the times when I can touch the cock as a real gift from her – a break from normal – and I wouldn’t want to violate the spirit of the gift by taking advantage of the access.

In any event, I had a hard time cleaning the cock this morning because it kept filling the tube so much that I couldn’t flush any water in there. It wanted to come out and play, but neither of us could make that happen. While updating the Portfolio this morning, I really felt the need to pull on it. Of course, all I have is a hard, unfeeling steel tube. Perhaps for that reason, more so than usual, the pictures of cocks are really speaking to me. The various urges ebb and flow, but right now I really want a cock and there are just too many pictures of beautiful ones on the Tumblr.

In other news, I expect the shorter Steelheart tube will be landing soon. These custom steel devices take so long, especially when they’re forged in the Fatherland. Getting back in the swing of sporting the steel has me once again jonesing for a less obtrusive protective device.