Well, hello from home. Axel and Stella (the dog) are tucked nicely into bed and both snoring (although Stella is actually winning) and I have found that, with my weird life of late, I no longer know how or when to actually go to sleep, so I decided to write, which usually makes me feel relaxed.
Anyway, right now, I am exactly three and one half days as a bad boy with metal in my dick. Today was the best of all of them. No blood. No oozing. No worries. That said, it still feels like I piss fire when I go and I still don’t plan on touching it till Arbor Day, but I can already tell that the internal swelling has gone down because I can feel the jewelry move more freely and peeing is much easier. In fact, I learned I can even stand up to do so. Now, you may not want to be standing beside me when I do, but that’s a technique I will perfect when the sensitivity is down.
Speaking of sensitivity, I am home and it was Axel’s first time to see “it”. Before I would let him, I wanted to take a shower and feel a bit less airplane gross so I went up, stripped, and immediately went to, and for the first time regretted, that we have an amazing shower. See, we have a very old house but the master bath is big and our shower is one of the ones with four shower heads, two on each side, one above, and a hand spray thing. The pressure is good and within about 3.7 seconds of entering that foggy little box, the first jet of water hit my tender penis like what I suspect Freddy Krueger’s knive-like hands did to his stupid teenage victims. It fucking hurt. And hurt bad.
I was able to adjust the pressure and then – heeeeeeeere comes Axel. Fuck. I wanted to not be hurting. I wanted to feel very sexy. I wanted to at least be dried off. I wanted to be warm. But, nooooooo, I hear him, and fucking Stella too, coming up the stairs to have “a look”. Let’s just say that out of every way I thought this would go down in the last six weeks, none of these things were part of them. I don’t know, I guess I thought I would produce my silvery dick on a silver platter or something, not standing under a dripping faucet feeling fat from the dinner my friend who picked me up at the airport made me go to “in exchange”.
However, deciding to make the most of it, he sat down on the edge of the tub and I walked on up in all my shiny new glory. This amazing conversation went down in a manner that was something like the following:
Him: “Wow. It’s big. Bigger than I thought”. (if I had a nickel, folks)
Me: “Yeah. Uh huh”
Him: “Hmmmm. Are you happy? I THINK I am”
Me: “Well, it’s too late now if you are not and I may be, but DON’T TOUCH IT”
Him: “No, it’s sexy. I really do…it’s just different”
Me: “uh uh. DON’T TOUCH IT”
And I guess you get the glimpse of how the evening went after that. We were not mad. There was not a cross feeling in the room. It was just what it was. No silver platter. No accolades. And, well, no thank you for doing this for me.
I think I just stumbled on why I am now downstairs writing this – that hurt my feelings.
Fuck. God damn Jan Brady is channeling again.
Before I move forward, there are two things I should say in Axel’s defense. One, the month of December is INCREDIBLY hard for him professionally. He works more this month than I do and I have learned how to just avoid being home mostly and, two, any time I arrive home from a work trip, I have a routine and when he is in the house he is in my way. I love the man dearly, but late night weekend returns find me so stressed and so in a panic mode as, for instance, I leave again in about 36 hours, that the tension is just there and we can’t, in three years of me in this role, figure out how to fix it most times. So, it was a bad night anyway.
The night went on, we watched TV, I learned that Stella paws are not safe for a throbbing dick, and then it was time to bed. We all three got in there and start cuddling in that awkward way a couple does when one partner has ruled south of the navel and above the knee forbidden, and then, then he says, ” you know, I wish I had been able to be there with you on Wednesday. I’m a bit jealous”
GOD DAMN HOLY MOTHER OF FUCKING SHIT, he did NOT just say that after about 19 hours of he and I talking about why it was better for me to go with Thumper????? It was one of those moments we all have when your head spins and you realize that you must get up and write in your sex blog immediately to not let this fester. While the inner black woman in my head was shaking her finger and twisting her neck back and forth in that “mmmmm hmmmmmm, girlfriend” way, I was trying to shut her up and stay calm.
But, in that moment, I also realized that he was exhausted, sad about work things, and December overloaded, so I rolled over, kissed him, and said “I wish you had of been able to join us” – anyone see anything wrong with that?????
He shot up and said, “I know, BUT,you realize I hate blood, I would have let you out of getting it done and that I had trusted Thumper to hold your hand and get you, my husband/his boyfriend, through that day which he did. It just made me wish I had my own Thumper this week”. It was nothing but it did made me encourage him to try harder to find his own bunny too.
So, on that note, the other posts will have to wait (sorry Skipper). Drew just got tired.