“Mr. Winkie must die”. The sorta-phrase heard all day yesterday in various forms from Axel and Thumper.
Evidently, neither liked the fact that in the previous post about my one week of healing that I referred to my penis as “Mr. Winkie”.
It’s “not sexy”, they say. “You’re a grown man”, they say. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda, they say.
Actually, the bigger thought was that such items should not have names. I find that sad, but also see a point, so in an effort to be a better husband and boyfriend to the boyfriend and husband, I have vowed that my penis will no longer be referred to by any name other than cock, penis, dick, or monster, you know, all the technical terms. In my defense, it’s not like I would saddle up behind either and say something like “get ready for Mr. Winkie”, but, I do see their point and I will do my best to make sure that it shall no longer be named.
While this post has absolutely nothing to do with chastity, sex, or anything kinky (damn me and my vow as I have now I missed my chance since that rhymes so well with Winkie), I laughed all day about how these two men who have not (yet) met both picked up on the same thing and both gave me hell about it in the same snippy, yet endearingly sarcastic ways. Actually, it was an unintentional threeway of sorts as they also each added in there that I tend to give inanimate objects a gender assignment and that it should stop as well. This was just once, after recently referring to my truck as a “he” and they thought that was a bit silly too. So, I will kill Winkie, but not sure my truck will understand just yet.
I kid, of course, as it was more just fun for me to see that they both freakishly united in this “request” at almost the exact time and in the almost exact way. Just odd. (as an FYI, Axel does not read the blog, but I have sent him the PA updates as he has a vested interest and wants to know those)
In addition, while I am writing about nothing in particular, I want to give an update on Axel as I am not sure I painted a fair picture of him last weekend when I arrived home with my freshly poked Mr., errrr, cock. A few of you have told me that you felt sorry for me over his reaction and that he could have reacted better, been more excited, and such. For those who said that, I agree 100 percent. He should have. But, there were many things about my arrival home and the weekend that I could have done better too, so in this case, it truly is what it is or, well, was what it was. As a bit of background too, Axel’s workload almost quadruples in December and he’s working more hours than me without the benefit of the occasional first class seat and kettle one and cranberry. Stress levels are high this month and always have been, so I really should have known better than to expect much more. In fact, one of the reasons I chose to have myself modified in December was due to the fact that intimacy, kink, control, and any of the other fun words that belong in that sentence are quite improbable during these weeks, so it made for a good time to temporarily render oneself impotent so that I’d be back and roaring when Axel wakes up from his much needed nap a few days after Christmas (after we return from his family and I wake up from the self medicated induced coma I typically have to put myself in for survival too).
I am in Los Angeles tonight and will be heading home for almost three solid weeks tomorrow and have promised him he can touch the steely cock as much as he wants, now that doing so will not send me through the ceiling in pain like it would have this time last week. While I intend to stay in my half self imposed/half healing imposed state of device free chastity for at least another week for the internal healing, the touch is something I have missed dearly and am looking very forward to feeling when I get there.
As a nine day update, I am healing quite well and the burning has slowed, though it is still there at times. Mentally I no longer “think” constantly about my dick, but the new vibrations and sensations are still rather, um, thrilling.