Tag: PA piercing

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Christmas break

It’s been almost a week since I last wrote here. I guess I’ll call that my Christmas Break.

I was trying to get into a rhythm where I blogged about once a day, so six days off has left me a little rusty as well as contemplative regarding how I’ll blog in the future. On the one hand, I want to blog regularly (like I said, maybe 5 times a week, or thereabouts). On the other hand, I don’t want to get too repetitive. I mean, how many times can I come here and write that Belle denied me another orgasm before you all wander off? Once the bloom is off the orgasm denial flower, how many times can one write about the same non-event? The secret, I think, is spending more time describing the donut and less thinking about the hole. Of course, the longer I’m denied the more I think about holes…and what you can do with them…and how even now I’m getting plump thinking about a freakin’ donut hole. Sheesh. OK, back to it, then.

Christmas Day was notable for two things. First, my Belle Fille had the stomach flu all day. Merry Christmas, sweetie! That sucked (mostly for her). Luckily, she was right as rain the next day. Second, Christmas was the first day I actually forgot my dick was pierced. No pain, no uncomfortableness, in general, no weirdness of any kind. I count it as the first day of the rest of my penis-pierced life. The next day, Friday, Belle felt so good that she wanted me to fuck her. During the healing period, Belle hasn’t been able to enjoy her cock as often as she’d like and, since it was feeling pretty good, she wanted it in her. I used the one non-sheep intestine condom I had. I felt a wince once or twice, but otherwise it was a good experience for both of us. She reports being able to feel the curved barbell a little, but not a lot.

After she came, she told me I could, too, if I wanted to. It’s a testimate to how far orgasm denial has taken me that I actually had to think about it for a second. Three months ago, the option of not coming would have seemed very strange to me. Now, I find myself more than willing to trade the momentary intense pleasure of orgasm for the long burn of denial-driven frustration and basking in the reflected glow of her pleasure. But yeah, I came anyway. Unlike last time, it was good. Really good. Not head-exploding good, but pretty damned good just the same. Afterwards, I pulled off the spent condom, tied it off like a water balloon, and was surprised at the volume of ejaculate it contained. Man, that was a lot of little swimmers.

Yesterday was a good day. Belle and I were really into each other all day. She was giving me long looks and saying nice things and I was loving the attention and looking forward to pawing her that night. Once the kids were down and out, the pawing commenced. I asked to be able to pleasure her with the cock again and, while puting on the condom (we bought more of the latex variety), made the offhand remark that it had been a while since I had to deal with the things.

If you’ve read this blog for a while or spent time reading the old entires, you’ll know that this past summer Belle and I went though a difficult period in our marriage. In short, I cheated on her. We both agree that we should share the blame for allowing our marriage to get to a state where that kind of thing was even possible, but I was the one who cheated and therefore am the one who bears more of the blame. While we’ve come a remarkable way from those days, the pain I caused her occasionally surfaces, as it did with my seemingly innocent remark about using condoms. She immediately deduced (correctly) that I did not use a condom during my affair. I can explain why I chose not to, though it’s not important to this story and will only sound like I’m defending myself.

Belle did not stop me when my comment suddenly opened up the old hurt and anger. I was in her and doing my best to pleasure her when I felt something wasn’t right. I stopped, we talked, I apologized for the millionth time. I think she felt bad that her feelings got in the way of our moment, but I tried to tell her she shouldn’t. How could they not? Her feelings are more than valid and if anyone should feel bad, it should be me. In any event, we were able to get past it and she allowed me to bring her to climax manually.

As she approached her orgasm, I again felt the sympathetic vibrations within me and heard the little whimpering moans coming from my throat. I simultaneously relish and dread the moment of her orgasm. I’m allowed a fractional share of her pleasure but, shortly after, my access to her body comes to an end. Perhaps it was the earlier penetration, but for some reason I found myself hornier than I would have expected just 24 hours after my own release. She told me it would be a while before I was allowed to come, if for no other reason, because she’s leaving the country for a week starting next weekend. I asked if she was going to take the little vibrator, Pink, with her. Yes, she is.

If any part of me was coming off the hormonal edge, the sudden and crystal thought of her pleasuring herself on the other side of the world with Pink while I was hard, horny, and denied here at home had me instantly hard and miserably flooded with desire for her. Even now as I write this, I find myself in a state of excited frustration more suited to three weeks without release, not three days. Exacerbating this is Belle’s promise to let me know each time she comes while she’s gone. Due to the time difference, I imagine I’ll be in an afternoon meeting when I receive a text message from her with the news. She’ll be basking while I’ll be squirming. Not fair. Wonderfully, gloriously, not fair.

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Three nights

Saturday
Following the pathetic squirt, I got my mulligan. Belle strapped me to the bed and used her nails and teeth on me. Only the second time being tied down, I can report still thinking it’s pretty great. At one point, the cock became turgid and she remarked, “God, you really do like this!”

As before, I never got really hard from what she was doing, but I enjoyed most of it. The nails on my ass and digging into my scrotum were awesome, but raking them across my chest not so much. As we’re figuring this out, it’s interesting to me to find that some sensations are good only in certain places.  I regret that she didn’t bring the flogger out, and afterward, so did she. Anyway, she was absolutely vicious with my nipples. So wickedly cruel, in fact, that I had to ask her to stop, which is a first. Damn near twisted the things right off. They stung for 24 hours. Delicious.

She let me jerk off when she was done, but unlike the night before, I could never get there. I really wanted to, but the damned piercing was bugging me again. Not hurting as much as just feeling weird and not right. I can only assume this is part of the healing process and that it won’t feel weird forever. In any event, I did not come. As I went to soak the piercing later I found I had leaked precum, but through the little pierced hole, not the one on the end of the cock. I went to bed frustrated.

Sunday
We spent the afternoon and evening at a family holiday party at Belle’s uncle’s house. She had more than her fair share of wine and, in the car on the drive home with the kids in the back seat, started drawing letters on the top of my hand resting on the shifter.

P, I, N, K

Pink? Oh! Pink, the vibrator. Cool, she wanted me to use Pink on her when we got home. We’ll see if she falls asleep first, I thought.

P, I, N, K, O, R, C…

Pink orc? Huh. Does she want to watch Lord of the Rings while I get her off? I shook my head indicating I wasn’t reading her.

P, I, N, K – yeah, got that – O, R, C…

“Orc?” I said. She shook her head. Our exit was about a mile off at this point, so I told her to just wait.

Turns out, she was trying to tell me she wanted Pink or the cock, she just never got past the C before I gave her a weird look. In bed, she decided on Pink, not the cock (sigh) since, she informed me, tonight it was all about her. Working her nipples with my mouth and left hand, I ran Pink over her clit with my right. Her moaning and gyrating hips encouraged me to fuck her with it and she shortly came to a quiet yet intense climax. With the cock hard and pressed against her, she pulled down her top, pulled up her bottoms, rolled over and went to sleep. I’m not even sure she said thanks.

Monday
Laying in bed. After some talking, she tells me to get under the sheets and get naked (since I’m always supposed to be naked in bed). She starts to rub the underside of the cock, pressing it into my stomach. It’s getting harder and I’m making little moaning sounds. “Quiet,” she says. “No sounds.”

Oh, god. I’m normally pretty vocal in these kinds of situations and suddenly finding myself having to bottle it all up was infuriating. The simple sensation of her rubbing the cock on just one side with only two fingers seemed to multiply in its intensity. After a few minutes of this I realized it might actually make me come and the tiniest little Whoville squeak leaked out of me. She immediately withdrew her hand leaving me hard and throbbing. My fun was over. Now I know the rules to that game.

Feeling pretty turned on, I rubbed my hand across her shirt and felt the hardening little nub of her nipple.

“Did you ask permission to do that?”

“Can I please touch you?”

“What do you say?”

I said our agreed-upon phrase that reinforces her dominant position in our sexual relationship and she pulled her pajama top up and assumed the now-familiar “serve me” position.

Again, it was all about her. I used my hands this time, not Pink. Her pussy was incredibly wet and the cock between my legs pulsed with the memory of sliding into it. After she came, I laid with my head on her chest and told her how badly I wanted to fuck her. She pulled down her top and pulled up her bottoms and told me I could touch myself, but not come.

As soon as I wrapped my hand around the hard cock, I knew – I knew – that this time, I could get there. But it was not to be. Not tonight, anyway. So I laid there and stroked while she rolled over and went to sleep.

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Well, that sucked

Nineteen days of orgasmless existence came to an end this morning with a pathetic squirt. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

It all started in the dark at about 4:30 when my Belle Fille woke me up asking if I was interested in sex. “Ermph?” I replied. I had made my advances the night before since it had been an even numbered day since my last orgasm and she had previously expressed an preference for non-odd numbered days. However, “nineteen” is also the title of a song Belle liked in high school, so we were going to wait until the 19th day. Yeah, super. OK. Let’s wait! I’m sorry, what was I saying about wanting her to be capricious?

<clenched teeth>Good night, sweetie.</clenched teeth>

Flash forward six and a half hours to her proposition. Seriously, now!? It’s the middle of the night. Well, let’s not look this gift-wife in the mouth.

I did my dead-level best. I’m not sure I was even awake for most of it, but I did manage to get her off by going down on her. And here, guys, I have to make a confession. Even after nineteen days, I more than half hoped she’d let me roll off and go back to sleep. Yeah, I was hard and she was ready, but this was going to be not just the first time in almost three weeks, but the very first time with steel installed through my unit. But no, she wanted me to go. The reptile in me seized the moment and told the fluffy bunny to fuck off as I groped around for the condom package in the nightstand.

According to my piercer, I need to use a condom for about 6-8 weeks. At my current rate of consumption, I’ll burn through exactly two rubbers in that time. Now, it’s been a while since I used one of these things. Shopping for them is a little different than in the old days. Instead of picking them up in a greasy gas station convenience store, I made my selection while standing in the wide and well-lit aisle of our local Target superstore while moms with toddlers pushed carts full of Christmas toys and toilet paper nearby.  Before me was a six by twenty foot cornucopia of brightly colored prophylactic boxes. Ribbed, studded, spermicidal, thin, ultra thin, and magnum – all available in quantities from three to ninety-six from three different manufacturers. I was overwhelmed. Who the hell needs dozens of condoms, anyway? These things do expire, right? Halloween’s over, so passing them out to trick-or-treaters couldn’t be it. Perhaps they were intended for fall-out shelters or the nightstands of terribly lucky and/or delusional men.

Anyway, up on the top shelf in a little black box with a sheep’s head on it was a pack of three condoms apparently made from the intestine of the aforementioned animal. The writing on the box said these all-natural contrivances were the very thinnest and allowed for the most sensation for the discriminating gentleman (who might also have a latex allergy). They were roughly three times more expensive than their non-animal-based counterparts, and I’m just shallow enough to equate price with quality, so I bought them.

As it slid wetly out of its torn little envelope there in the inky blackness of our bedroom this morning, it occurred to me that it felt entirely unlike a mass-produced marvel of modern petrochemical manufacturing. Instead, it felt like rolled up skin. Rather than stop and consider what I was about to put on myself and risk the blood in my swollen member rushing off to some quiet, out of the way capillary where it could go back to doing what the rest of my body wanted to do, I sallied forth and unrolled the cold, wet, skin-like animal byproduct onto my sex.

The sheep on the package could just have well stood for a wool sock since that’s what it felt like I had on my dick as I entered Belle. I felt warmth and pressure, but couldn’t really tell how much of me was in her at any given point. Maybe the sheep my condom had come from had unnaturally thick intestinal walls. In any event, it didn’t really matter since the curved barbell in the head of my cock slid back and forth and pulled uncomfortably on its still-healing hole. I had to withdraw, but was pleased to release my manhood from it’s sheepy sensory deprevation chamber. One might think I felt sad that the sheep’s life was thusly wasted on my unchristened condom, but one would not only be wrong but one might also be freakishly obsessed with the rights of thick-intestined farm animals.

Once the intestine was off, Belle let me masturbate. Honestly, I should have stopped and just gone to sleep, but I felt I had gone that far and, with the ghost of Wooly the Sheep hanging over the bed, I wanked my meat. Normally, I like to alternate from the base of my shaft to the head, but the area I like to rapidly stimulate is currently healing, so I could only stroke the bottom two-thirds of the cock. Eventually, I coaxed it to give up the semen. It didn’t feel good at all – it felt like a hell of a lot of work. Its volume was unremarkable which, in itself, is somewhat remarkable considering how long it had been. But no, it wasn’t fireworks and earthquake stuff. My cranium did not explode. I did not see lights. Instead, the orgasm weakly flung itself onto my stomach, barely making it over my belly button.

I felt like the guy who sat through a joke he’s already heard, but told with an overly long set up and a bungled punch-line. I’m hoping Belle isn’t too tired tonight because I’d like to call a mulligan and get my do-over.

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XVII

Seventeen days since my last orgasm. I thought I’d get a little something last night, but no luck. Belle started to jerk me off, but it bothered the piercing and we had to stop. That sucked. Then tonight, she started again. I think it would have worked, except all she wanted to do was tease me. I asked her when I was going to come and she said soon, but not today. Today was an odd numbered day (17) and she liked even numbers. Super.

The piercing is coming along nicely. The swelling it almost totally gone and the color is back to normal. There is still tenderness around the new hole, but it seems to be able to take a little more abuse than the other night when she aggravated it by accident. I know Belle said she didn’t want to risk penetrative activity with it, but I think that would actually be easier on it than a hand job at this point (especially since I’m supposed to wear a condom for the next six weeks or so). I’m counting on the knowledge that she wants the cock really bad right now and will give in tomorrow night.

Currently, I’m semierect and thinking about surfing for porn and edging myself, but I’m afraid even a little stroking will bring me to climax fairly easily. I can’t come (or not come) this far only to blow it by jizzing all over my Macbook.

That said, I’m really interested in experiencing the sensation of fucking and coming with metal in my dick. Earlier, when I was hard, I played around with the ball sticking out my urethra and have to admit it felt awesome. Just flicking it on the end sent some very interesting vibrations though the head of my cock. I still experience pain sometimes when urinating, so I’m a little concerned that my first orgams in who-the-fuck-knows how long will actually hurt, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Who knows, maybe it’ll end up being my first ruined orgasm.

OK, time to try sleeping again.

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A wolf in wolf’s clothing

Being up over two weeks without sexual release for the first time ever is starting to gnaw at me (sixteen days, but who’s counting…oh, yeah, I’M counting). I wake up with a serious case of the carnivorous butterflies every morning and find myself kinda jumpy and buzzy at different points during the day. I have a feeling Belle’s craving a little bunny lovin’ herself, but what with Mr. Winky currently in recovery mode, there’s no hope of getting him wet in the foreseeable future.

This morning my urges were so powerful they stopped being about having sex, per se, and were more about just consuming her. I wanted to simultaneously bite her, envelope her entire body in mine, crush her in my arms, and just fuck the holy hell out whatever was left. It was all very reptilian. Of course, I didn’t do any of those things. I tried my very best to remain the sweet and gentle mate she requires me to be.

And that, my friends, is where a lot of this orgasm denial stuff trips my trigger. My animalistic, testosterone-soaked hunk of burning love being smothered by the cool cascade of her feminine power. I’m all strain and frustration and spring-loaded desire and she lies there exuding collected calmness and just smiles at me. If we were cartoon characters, she’d be a sexy sheep striking a Mae West pose and I’d be a wolf with a steam whistle blowing out of his raggedy top hat.

Belle tells me she might allow me to come to orgasm tonight, but only if the piercing looks and feels better and only through manual stimulation. No penetration. My mouth goes dry at the thought. I so badly want to come but I also so badly want to fuck her that I may – impossibly – keep waiting until the new hole in my dick heals more completely. Pardon me while I go curl up in the corner and softly whine to myself.

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One fortnight

I nearly forgot to mention that today marks two weeks since my last orgasm, a new record by four days with no relief in sight. I’m surprised at how calm I am in the face of what is easily the longest I’ve gone without ejaculation since I’ve been able to perform the feat. My attitude is undoubtedly a side effect of the still-fresh hole in my dick.

Since we’re on the topic, I can report that the hole hurts. Or rather, the area in my urethra through which the stainless steel bar passes is very sore. The flesh on the bottom of the head of my penis is slightly swollen and pink(er). Urinating causes a burning sensation and is somewhat harder than usual since, I assume, it has to pass through the swollen, crowded tube. The swelling and pain did not appear until the day after Belle jacked me off. I think, in retrospect, that was slightly more action than I was ready for. All the swelling and pain is slightly better today than it was yesterday, though. I’m doing my salt water soaks twice a day as proscribed. Updating my Facebook status to “is going to soak his penis” crossed my mind earlier this evening, but I thought better of it. Anyway, it is healing, but much more slowly than I’d prefer. Wednesday will be a week since the piercing and Belle tells me that’s the very earliest I’ll be allowed release.

Yesterday, I experienced a new thing. Semen leaked from me off and on throughout the day. I’m assuming that’s my prostate expelling all that unneeded ammo it’s been sitting on for 14 days. It was somewhat sad and depressing seeing those sorry little hard stains in my underwear.

Come on, cells, heal. Heal, damn it, HEAL.

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This morning

I awoke this morning with the carnivorous butterflies at full battle alert. My whole body seemed to vibrate with a tremulous, insistent lust for Belle. There was a moderate amount of pain coming from the end of my erection, but the immediacy of her physical presence filled my senses and caused me to momentarily subjugate the hurt. At first, she was sleeping, and I tentatively moved my hands over her body, cautious not to wake her but finding it difficult to control my urge to touch her. As she stirred from sleep, I became more bold, moving my hand beneath her bedclothes and down between her legs. Thankfully, she was receptive and pulled her top up to to reveal her breasts, in doing so wordlessly directing me to provide her the service I so badly craved. She made little effort to please me. There was a vague touching on her part, but it seemed more about her appreciating my form than an attempt to give me pleasure.

I consumed her nipples as if they were water and I a man lost in the dessert. I fought the urge, so familiar when my lust is running high, to sink my teeth into her soft flesh. My mouth found its way to her pussy and I eagerly lapped at her wet folds. Her first-thing-in-the-morning aroma was strong and powerfully affected me. My newly pierced meat strained against the still-unfamiliar steel passing though it, but the intensity of her womanhood blanketed any pain. I was solely focused on consuming all of her that I could before she inevitably fell over the cliff of orgasm.

As her climax approached, she started moaning loudly and with abandon. I found myself, for the first time, making sympathetic orgasmic moans. Soft, almost whimpering sounds came from me as I palpably felt the crest of her pleasure approach and then wash over me along with the knowledge that, sadly, my enjoyment of her body was coming to an end.

Afterward, I laid my head down on her pubic hair and inhaled her redolent essence for as long as she’d let me. I placed my hand over her pubis, cupping it over her mound. I felt the source of her power over me radiating from it. An animal-like lust welled within me and, again, I was nearly overcome with the urge to bite her. But I didn’t. I kissed her. As sweetly and as tenderly as I knew how. And I thanked her for allowing me the pleasure of giving the same to her.

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Uncharted waters

It’s been eleven days since my last orgasm. This is a new high-water mark in my denial and there’s no telling when I’ll next be released. When I last went ten days, I was nearly manic in my need for release, but right now I’m in pretty good shape. There are a number of differences this time. Then, I had also been in the CB6K for eight days (which was my longest stint), so there was more than one thing I was looking forward to. Also, that period of denial led up to our weekend alone at the cabin which had me really excited since it was also going to be the first time Belle tied me up and flogged me.

This time, though, she’s been out of town for a few days, so the edge of my desire seems to be off. Even though she got back yesterday, we spent most of the time preparing our house for a party of 50 people tonight, so quiet time was at a minimum. I assume that since we’ll have 50 people over, the opportunity for sexual contact will be low tonight. My next best chance will be tomorrow night. But, oh yeah. I have a fresh flesh wound in my cock.

I did eventually bleed yesterday, but it was diluted and came out the end of my dick, not the hole. I had assumed the blood would come from the wound, but it doesn’t. Even this morning when I found spots of fresh, pure blood in my dressing, it had all come through the natural opening, not the new one. I can report that my nocturnal erections caused some significant discomfort last night. Hope that doesn’t last long. Right now, I can feel it in there and there’s some minor discomfort, but the bleeding seems to have stopped, at least temporarily. Also, I ordered this piece of jewelry for when the majority of my healing’s done. It’ll give something for Belle to hold on to when she’s leading me around.

Basically, I assume I should be climbing the walls, but I’m not. I chalk that up to the cock not feeling like a source of pleasure, but it could be I’m just acclimating. By the time I get to come next, it will have been two-and-a-half to three weeks of denial. That orgasm might just make my head explode.

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OMFG, there’s a metal bar through my dick

It’s been less than an hour since a needle was stuck through my dick.

As I said in the previous post, I went to Saint Sabrina’s in the Uptown area of Minneapolis to get my PA. My piercer’s name was Jesicka and she was amazing. While very professional, she was also able to put me at ease (and, while my outwardly steely demeanor may have suggested otherwise, I needed her to put as much ease on me as possible). She was just awesome. Can’t recommend her more highly.

Before going, I thought the following:

  • It would hurt like hell
  • I would bleed like a stuck pig
  • I’d be naked from the waist down
  • I’d be able to watch the procedure go down
  • My dick would have withdrawn completely into my body

While Mr. Winkie did look terrified, I’m happy to report it wasn’t outrageously small. A small modicum of my male ego was thusly preserved. The moment the needle went through did hurt, but not nearly as much as I thought it would. She inserted the receiving tube into the head of my dick, which was mildly uncomfortable, and then punched the needle through. I thought she was still working with the tube when the actual piercing took place and by the time I realized it was over, she already had the jewelry in. Turns out, I didn’t bleed at all. She said that most people don’t bleed when pierced using the method she developed. I couldn’t see what she did, though, since she had me laying flat on the table. Also, she only had my pants pulled down to my knees, so I wasn’t as naked as I thought I’d be (or as cold). There was a moment after she started touching my dick that I thought I might actually get somewhat aroused, what with being as horny as I am, but nothing untoward transpired.

So now I’m at home and I do feel a small amount of pain down there, but nothing major. I unwrapped the ghetto bandage she put on me (a surgical glove packed with gauze and secured with rubber bands) and found there’s still no blood. I chose to go with an eight gauge curved barbell with a larger ball in front an a smaller one in back. The rod of the barbell is a little long, but Jesicka said we need to see how it fits while erect before adjusting. If it turns out I need a shorter one, I’ll go back in about three weeks and she’ll fit it.

The first peeing event was also pretty uneventful. The ball in front did disrupt the stream, but maybe not enough to keep me from peeing standing up (my obsession). I expected urine to leak through the hole, but it didn’t. Maybe that’ll change after it heals. She told me I’d have to use a condom during intercourse for at least two months. So, if my math’s correct, I’ll only need a three-pack. 😉

All in all, I can report it was much less traumatic than I thought it would be. If the healing period is similarly uneventful, I’ll be very pleased indeed.

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The piercing cometh

My Belle Fille’s out of town again until Wednesday. Just a quick trip, but in my orgasm-deprived state, her absence is keenly felt. I wish she was here now. *sigh*

Ahem. Sorry. In other news, I made an appointment today at Saint Sabrina’s for my PA piercing. Wednesday at noon. Yikes. I admit to being more than a little nervous. I mean, they’re going to poke a hole in my dick. There will be blood. Perhaps, a lot of blood. Um…anyway, I’m telling you this in an attempt to make it impossible for me to chicken out. If I don’t follow through, I’ll have to come back here and explain.

It’s recommended that one not have sex for a week following a new PA piercing. Wednesday will be ten days (my record so far) so add a week onto that, I guess. Two and a half weeks. I am simultaneously horrified and excited by the prospect. It’ll take four to six weeks to heal, so I’m also guessing that keeps me out of the CB6K until sometime in January. Happy New Year!

OK, I’m going to go now and freak out about my dick and not coming for more than half a month. See you tomorrow.