Broken (plus points and porn)

Tonight I broke myself.

Last week I hurt my back while putting on my pants or through some other mundane activity and, while it slowed me down, it never really stopped me. I was cautious of movements, did a lot of stretching, saw a physio, took a few pills, got tipsy with Ferns, but kept working out and it got better, but never really good, so I just decided to ignore it until it went away. Typical me on many levels.

My afternoon schedule fell apart today leaving me with the whole time free, so I had a workout, did some work, and decided to go for a trail run in the bush behind my hotel. That was a huge mistake as about two kilometers in I stepped the wrong way, the back clenched, and this self proclaimed bad ass with metal in his dick was down in the mud, which I had avoided until that point because I had my fancy Thumper recommended shoes on. I could not move for about three minutes and finally pulled myself up and out and made it to the road where I sat on the sidewalk waiting for someone I work with here to come pick me up after I texted her something that I am sure will come back to haunt me. Broken.

So, in the quest for March’s exercise points, I officially conceded to the Kiwi, but know I gave it a good fight. Actually, this whole point thing has been really good for me because it’s making me kick in and kick myself off of the couch. I am still nowhere close to where I want to be, but just know that with patience it may one day happen. The saddest part, however, is I worked hard, the Kiwi worked hard, and Thumper, who had a week of sickness and a week of vacation this month still almost beat us. If it had been a real month for him, we’d be shamed by the bunny points I suspect. That rabbit and his running (I would complain but I like the way it makes his ass look naked way more than I mind trying to keep up) (just sayin’).

Exercise aside, this trip has showed me how OC I am about things in my life being stable which, I suspect, is how I balance the fact that I am completely unstable when it comes to day to day life due to my work. Axel has a really bad case of the flu and has been off kilter and uncommunicative due to that and home at weird times while Thumper is 800 or so extra miles away from where he is supposed to be too. Neither of those facts make any difference in my day, since I am not home with Axel and since Thumper and I are always many miles apart, but it’s just funny how both of those things have combined at a time when I don’t recall ever being so horny and ready for sex. Pure demented sticky gooey sex. It’s like a conspiracy with one sick and disinterested and the other surrounded by family and beaches, I can’t get either to send me dirty pictures, tell me nasty stories, or pose naked for me. I feel so powerless and yet oh so ready to almost beg. Even with the back feeling the way it does I still think I could go to town, so to speak.

That said, the Steelheart has shipped and will likely greet me at home (unless it got shipped to Thumper since he ordered it) and it’s still about two more weeks before I see Thumper, so I think I will just sit and pout now.

And look at porn. Porn and more porn. Poor horny me.

Damn self monitored chastity.

I kissed a girl

Big news in the land of blog, Drew met Ferns last weekend.

While I have been tempted to not write about it, it was too much fun not to do so and enough people have asked me “what’s she like?” For those, you won’t be very happy with this as I am not giving away any sordid details aside from what you already know.

Anyway, I am in Australia for work and she and I arranged that I would fly up to her home city where she would meet me at the airport and take me to lunch. Looking back, I did not plan nearly enough time, but since this was our first visit together we each thought about five hours was enough to either get through if we did not click or explore our friendship if we did. Guess what, we did click!

When my plane arrived she texted me and said she would be outside the gate which, in my language, meant I would see her after a long walk through an airport corridor where I would have have time to stop, shine my head and check my teeth before meeting her. So, as I walked out of the gate doors I see this stunningly beautiful blond woman standing there in like 11” heels and think, “wow, she looks like Ferns. I hope” and then continue to walk my merry way until I hear this lovely “so, are you just going to walk past me??”

I. Was. Mortified.

Turns out, Australia is like America was before September 11, 2011, and if you are flying or meeting someone from a domestic flight, you don’t have to have a boarding pass to get through security. Hell, you don’t even have to have ID to get past security, which is a troubling fact I will process later, but for now, that meant I had just rudely walked by a woman known for her whip yielding capabilities. As it turns out, she wasn’t 100 percent sure I was me either, so I was off the hook. In hindsight, I should have been wearing a “I’m with Thumper” shirt while holding my penis with my one muscular arm whilst the Prince Albert dangled as she surely would have known me then since those are about 99 percent of the pictures I have placed online.

I turned around and gave her a huge hug and we immediately began laughing at each other and with each other which, in my mind, signaled the start of a beautiful day and most likely a beautiful friendship.

To keep this from being a diary entry, I will skip to the meat of the story, well, there was no meat since she forgot to feed me, but we went back to her house, sat outside in the tropical breeze while looking at the sea and we talked, we laughed, we gossiped about all of you reading this, talked some more and quickly polished off a really good big bottle of champagne. From there, we decided to take a lovely stroll on the beach to a surf club where more alcohol was served until it was time to get a taxi to take her home and me back to the airport. In all of this, we forgot food which, if you know me, you know that is a very rare thing!!

Now, a few days later I am still thinking about that day and smiling in my head. It’s funny because I had wondered if Thumper, being our joint connection at least at first, would be the primary topic of our day together and he wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, he came up a lot and I showed her all kinds of pictures of him including the approved ones from Facebook and lots of embarrassing ones he would most likely have said no to, but, he was off on holiday and there was simply no way I could have gotten his approval where he was, so I made an executive decision to show him off – I think it’s actually a boyfriend’s right, don’t you? In fairness, I showed off a lot of Axel too. Just not the naked ones.

Ferns made me proud to be me that day and 48 hours later I continue with that feeling.

By that, I mean that you have all watched me embrace my kink side more and more with each blog post, and I have told you how much Thumper has helped me, but spending time with her, a real live sexy Domme, and just having talks about our aging parents, stupid people on the internet, and her sexy Texan and my sexy husband and boyfriend, just made me feel, well, absolutely normal. If I had a way of showing my 20 year old self that this day was going to occur and that life would be just as lovely as it is, I would so do that for about 1,000 reasons. She is just an amazing lady and she made me feel absolutely lovely, all day long.

Now, on the purely superficial side of things, I have to admit feeling a bit alpha male too, not toward her, of course, because she simply would never allow that, but I could not help but think how many people on the Twitter and WordPress would want to be me at that moment. So, for them, I am currently making a very evil grin in that “ha ha” type way. It’s funny, I still feel like that related to the internet with Thumper and always feel like that in a different way with Axel, so I think this is just another way of life telling me that I am doing okay in this world and that I should value these special moments when I get them.

Speaking of which, Axel is coming with me here two trips from now and we are going to see what we can do to get back up there and do this all again and since he is a licensed therapist, we can really dig deep.

So, to wrap this up, Ferns, thank you for such a nice day. You are as beautiful as you are kind and I am very proud to now, officially, call you my real life friend.

Oh, one more thing internet world, she kissed me and man was it nice. Of course, a double gold star gay would never tell such sordid details about a woman so just use your imagination.

(yes, Thumper, since you are my boyfriend and all, I will give you details. Most of them, at least)

Dating a Straight Like Man – Part One

It was a simple statement that told the whole story.

“My wife says I need to take you out to dinner tomorrow when you are in town,” said Thumper.

While there had been past signs such as “I couldn’t wait to get rid of him,” this was my clear signal that yes, I am dating a straightish man without a sappy bone in his body.

As I have said before, dating a married bisexual man is different, very enlightening, and quite exciting. Since they come in many varieties and flavors, I was very lucky as my particular bisexual came with all the working parts I wanted in a straightish man – a deep voice, a nice body, great hands, a lovely ass, an incredible bisexual bunny tongue, AND sparkling steel enclosed genitals. Jackpot.

In addition, he is wicked smart, funny, kinky as fuck, a good tipper, and looks great in his porn star sunglasses.

But, when it comes to that sweet, romantic-esque side, well, let’s just say that the rabbit doesn’t earn all of his carrots. It’s not all bad though because it’s what we both signed up for and, as a plus, the good news is that now I finally understand all those Sex in the City episodes about “men”.

Poor Charlotte.

In all seriousness, this is meant as a light hearted post after a long conversation with Thumper this morning where I teased him about being grumpy all last week and not even acknowledging that I had arrived at my destination after a 33 hour trip. His response, was, “well, that’s what you get for dating a straightish man. Aaaaand, and you checked in on Facebook so I knew you were alive” and we had a good laugh while I pretended to not notice that I had, once again become the high school girl in this relationship.

It’s funny, because, as you know, I have always dated men and when you are a man who dates other men who also only exclusively date other men, the traditional roles of 1950 dating tends to go out the window. In my youth I dated a giant football player who would bring a flower to every date, just because, and then once dated a stock broker who would say things like “today is the 16th Wednesday we have seen each other in a row”. It’s funny because, in that day at time and most likely even now, those things irritated the shit out of me, but, I also really dug them in some ways. It’s the unexpected and the unconventional that in gay dating is what is interesting because there are no traditional male/female expectations. I am finding now, that even as enlightened as my particular bisexual is, he does have a bit of Ward Cleaver in him and I am learning to just adjust and go with the flow because the lack of sweetness does not indicate a lack of affection, I am learning.

All that to say, this truly is in jest because I know that if I needed him to be that overly caring bunny he would be and I know that if I really needed something he’d jump to do it, but it’s just not the natural side of how our friendship has evolved. In fact, in almost all of my relationships, by that I mean close friendships, I am now and have always been the high school girl because that is just who I am. I pick up random gifts when I travel, I text to say hello, and I leave Axel notes under his pillow when I leave town because I know he will find them at just the right time when he is naked and crawling into bed. That’s just me, and, in reverse, Thumper knew what type of gay he was getting when he signed the boyfriend agreement form too, so he knew he’d have to pretend to care about stupid stories and make phone calls or videos more often. It was and is just what it is.

I make no apologies for being a sappy guy and tend to believe that is who and what my friends expect from me because, I suspect, they might understand that it’s a role I enjoy and one that allows me to escape from being the professional bastard I often have to be, especially when on this side of the world. To his credit, the rabbit understands that when I am here and goes out of his way at times to be more in touch, more understanding about my work, and sympathetic to how it feels to often be the only one on Facebook awake at that particular hour.

I realized this was fully realized on his part when we were comparing calendars and he said “Fuck, you are going to be in Australia when I am in the islands. Shit, you are going to be lonely and out of your element – ha, that will be really funny and shitty for you, huh?”

I swooned.

Again, this is meant as nothing more than a glimpse into our day to day with a side of humor because this doesn’t really bother me, because I wanted a man who was straight enough to show me that side of the world yet who had just enough gay in him to spontaneously break out into Ethel Merman songs every now and then (yes, Thumpie, I just outed you). Plus, as we have discussed for almost half a year now (yes, Thumper, we met in October 2014), our minds and our genitals fit together nicely and that’s all that really matters in the scheme of things.

As I know the question is going to come up, while he and I aren’t dating dating, we kinda sorta are since we do things together for fun and have a good time outside of sex. We discussed this word and could not think of a better word, so dating it is. It really just fits and is much easier than saying “hanging out and spending time together with my friend who is more than a friend but no where near my spouse,” so “dating” is just easier and does, indeed, indicate a constant getting to know each other which we are continually doing.

Finally, since it’s become apparent that these things just don’t happen, let me go on record by closing with the following:

Thumper, when you go to the islands remember it would be nice if you got me a T-shirt from that place we talked about. I wear an XL, like you. Also, when we see each other on the dates that are blocked in your calendar two weeks after your return (please go check now to make sure you blocked them), remember to bring it. I will have something for you as well so start practicing your thankful face now. Drew.

For Thumper

Well, as predicted, last night was pretty much a shower, snack and collapse night, which, by the time I got home was honestly just perfect.

There was one thing that made me smile. A box – not wrapped, just plain ole Amazon- from Axel, along with a note that just said “I suspect your boyfriend will like you wearing this. I hope it fits”.

Well, my mind jumped 1,007 different places, but when I opened it, I think he nailed it:

Photo on 3-19-15 at 11.38 AM

Two Days

I’m writing this from the first of two flights tonight. Two flights that get me home to Axel for two days. Just two days before I am out of town for two weeks. Ironically, I’m also sitting in seat 2B, but I’m already digressing.

As I write this, I am planning to go home and sex up my husband something fierce. Like his jaw will be sore for two days kind of fierce. In fact, other places might be sore on him for two days too. Mad. Passionate. FUCKING.

That’s my plan. 

However, there are two things wrong with this plan.

One, when not with the rabbit, I don’t control my penis anymore. All the plans in the world I have now might just be too far fetched because it’s not my choice now and I know that. I’m not liking it at the moment, but I know it.

I chose that? Fuck me. What was I thinking? Was I not planning ahead for when my horny steel laden penis wanted to speak for itself?

 Luckily, my inner Batman voice is just telling me to take a chance. “Go for it. Sex. That. Man. Up”, is what I am hearing in my head. All he can say is “too fucking bad, right?, riiiiiiiiight? Be Batman. Go for it”, he says.

Arggggggg. God damn, thinking about the fact I may not be able to do anything is really making it just that much more hot. How funny. Of course, me being me, I am trying to mentally create a spreadsheet to graph this feeling to see exactly how long it will be before I remember I don’t have that power anymore. How sexy is that, huh? Huh?

Two, and most likely the larger factor, is reality.

My first meeting started this morning at 6:30am EDT and I don’t get home until 10:30pm CDT. Drew may not be functioning, so, there too, is a dilemma. This is compounded by the fact that Axel is currently about three hours from home having driven today to get a security clearance so he can travel with me this summer, which from the texts I have received was not pleasant. He will get home about an hour before me which will either result in him being really fed up horny and wanting to take it out on me or just a collapse on the bed as tomorrow starts early.

Who knows and I am trying to learn to not worry about such things. To switch to the vanilla side of my life, preparing for this type of travel really is, well, just one of the worst consequences of my job. I hate leaving home. That never gets easier and is a feeling that just sits in my gut like a bomb until I get past security and into my regular traveling man groove. When I go to the other side of the world, it’s worse, because in the days that precede these trips, there is always some weird feeling in my head like I have to prepare like I am going to be gone for a year or more, even if it is just fourteen days.  Translated, that means that I will spend tomorrow and Friday working on regular work, but also doing laundry, trying to visit my parents, trying to have a meal with my best friend, working out to cover the 33 hours in a flying metal tube, and then making sure that I get to spend some type of time with Thumper, you know, just in case they don’t have wifi in Australia anymore. Add to that trying to get as many hours with Axel doing coupley things as I can.

 It’s a great plan, but the reality of the situation is I will likely have pissed off both Thumper and Axel by 10am tomorrow trying to schedule, irritated my parents, forgotten about at least two things for work, thrown a red shirt in with the whites, and then generally have worked myself into such a foul mood by 4pm that my second day is just miserable as I try to make amends for day one.

The great thing about having just written that out, however, is that I can see the priorities: Axel, parents, Thumper, and the red shirt I like. I am hoping that this clustered mess of words will actually allow me to de stress which, coincidently, would be really helped by the aforementioned sex, which, again, I would plan on making mad, passionate, and, to now add, sticky.

But only, if allowed. 

Cross your fingers for me. 

Masculinity vs Manliness vs Submission

A month or so ago I posted about somehow feeling less manly surrounding having my orgasm controlled. Thumper and others jumped on me about this – in both good and bad ways – and I did re-caliper my thinking around that and realized that they were right, that the act of being denied or being controlled does not make one less manly at all. I get that. I really do.

That said, the last few weeks I have had a nagging thought in my head that has really come to the surface this week about my manliness in general and how, if any, my deeper dive into submission is affecting this level. Frankly, I don’t think it has much to do with it at all, but rather my questioning is just part of the natural aging process and due, likely, to my new exposure out of the almost exclusively gay world I have realized I isolated myself in. To be clear, I am not talking about masculinity. I realize that most dictionaries would say that masculinity and manliness are the same thing, but in this situation, I am breaking them apart.

For me, masculinity is rather natural (pause for the joke from Thumper here). I am a big guy in that big guy way. I am not fat but I ain’t little either. My voice is deep and I carry myself rather mightily when I need to and I cannot be graceful to save my life. However, manliness, in this context, is something I have never really had a traditional stronghold in and, frankly, it has never bothered me until recently. By this, I mean that I am not one to always read a sports page first. I am not outdoorsy, and I don’t wear flannel well at all. In my garage sit a German SUV and a German sports sedan versus a giant truck or a more practical Honda and I have always preferred to do the dishes versus take out the trash. I’ve never intentionally gone the the store in sweatpants and would rather die before wearing a sleeveless shirt even to the gym. I have always been sensitive and cared deeply for those in my world and admitted that to them without shame. That’s just me and always has been.

However, over the past few months, that traditional me has been evolving as I have been looking at trucks, enjoying pre-season baseball, and, just yesterday, wore sweatpants to Target. I even took my shirt off in my car this week, just because.

I’ve allowed myself to question whether real manly men would be feeling the way I do when I get lonely on the road or miss Thumper or my other friends when we don’t connect on schedule, because, in my wrongly thought out mind, missing buddies and feeling unconnected are not associated with manliness. I know that is very very wrong and my need to connect is just who I am and these people I am talking about already know those things and deal with them.

The question in my head has been, why?

At first, I was very quick to blame these thoughts on being subjugated by my husband, by my choice though, or by giving him the control of my penis. I allowed myself to fall victim to the being submissive means you are weaker trap and I have been struggling to find my way out of this even though I know it’s absolutely false while also struggling to actually allow it to happen.

I know this is 100 percent false because, as you might have heard, I have seen Thumper in some really primal submissive places but not once, not even for a second, did I ever think of him as any weaker than when he walked in the door in his business attire with his man bag two hours before. I have always seen him as power and submission together, which is one of the things I think is sexy about him. However, even seeing that and knowing that, I have not been able to figure out why I was not able to apply that same logic to myself and allow myself to climb out of the false subbie box of weakness I had fallen in. This has been an area I have just wanted to sit down and discuss with him, as he is my Manliness Consultant, but time has not been our friend this week and this isn’t a text-able thing.

In addition, and to be absolutely candid, the last few months have been the first time, ever, I have questioned not having children. I have felt a void I didn’t know was there in a sense and have wondered if it was the growing older factor, the impending illness of my mother and seeing my role in her care and thinking ahead, or if I just, finally, wanted to go throw a baseball with my kid. It’s been an odd thing, frankly, because, up until now, I have never given it a second thought.

However, tonight I realized that my questioning of my manliness was truly indeed tied to my new levels of submission, kinkiness, and even switchiness, but just not in the way I naturally assumed.

Turns out, I have decided that it has nothing to do with my soon to be encased penis or, for that matter, even Axel at all. It has to do with, well, this.  I have realized that as I have explored this side of me and made new friends, I have accidentally officially come out of my big, sparkly, glittery gay shell and, for the first time in my adult life, I am truly inside the homes and bedrooms of Thumper, my Chicago friends, my New Zealand friend and others who all have these wonderful lives that are so different from the same old two men and a dog groups of guys I have been around for twenty years. Don’t get me wrong, I love my fabulous flaming friends and have an amazing life, but through these open posts, Twitter, and by having a biflexipan boyfriend with a wife and kids, I am now seeing so much more about how life works with other people. So many more variations of love and happiness, and so many things that I knew was there but just generally lacked inside knowledge of the day to day-ness of it.

So, how does this tie into the manliness questioning? Well, I realized that at 45 years old, this is the first time I am making real friendships with straight-ish men and that I am really enjoying it. Don’t get me wrong, I have always had straight male friends, but I have never had the type of relationships with them that I am enjoying now where we talk about life, sex with our spouses – my male one included, where I can ask about breast sizes and vaginas without shame and where I have a true glimpse into the bonding that two men can share and, because these men are open enough, I can talk about the same things with them and give them a glimpse into the same, often boring world, of a same sex marriage. I have decided that the truck thinking, the sports page reading, and outdoorsy envy are just side effects of the exposure that may go away or, if they don’t, such as with baseball, then I am and will be a better man for it. I liken this to when Friends first aired and I was a 20 something who suddenly decided all of the friends in my life were not pretty or quirky enough and I wanted  to go live in a coffee shop in New York. That didn’t last, but elements of it did such as the picture frame I always have on the back of a door and this giant coffee table I am not sitting in front of, but I am a better man for knowing it and having been exposed to it.

I’ve been too hard on myself recently, but through all these things I have realized that admitting my need to submit is really just another expression of me understanding myself and my relationship and nothing more. In fact, all of these things, are just growing pains and were likely to happen with or without a collar. Many of these posts have been about me vowing this or that and MOST I am sticking to such as the gym, trying to be naked more, and feeling free enough to express myself when needed. So, let’s just add this one to the list as I will now officially stop the self questioning and allow my former self and my new self to blend into what I am thinking will be this big ole mix of switch with a metal dick attached.

Life. Kinks and All.

First and foremost, congratulations to Thumper for his 1,000th post earlier this week. That alone is truly a fete; however, the subject of his post is one that I hope every kinkster will read, regardless of age, stage of life, or level of activity. It deals with the uncomfortable sadness that often just comes from growing up and learning about life and love, but also really touches on how those feelings can be exacerbated by guilt, shame, and loneliness when you add in a touch or two of kink and/or anything outside what we, ourselves, deem as the “norm”.

I can certainly relate to many of those feelings growing up gay and kinky and trying to figure out where and how I would fit in because I was very different in my head; however, I can’t relate to the wishing it would go away, wanting it over, or any of those things for more than a few fleeting minutes because I just didn’t think that way. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t embrace it either, especially the kink, but I just put it on a shelf that didn’t contain shame and figured I would deal with it later. Of course, THAT fact, especially if you know me, is one of the most odd things ever because I am not a patient man. I do not like to deal with things later when they can be done now and if I want something, I figure a way to get it as soon as possible. Combine that with the fact that I am also incredibly sensitive and have that side we have discussed that jumps to the darkest place possible just when an email is not returned, and you have a case study for students for years and years ahead regarding my mental states. There are days when I know I am going to be the subject of some presentation Axel is writing or presenting just by looking at the way he is watching me.

Where all of this is going though, is to tag on to Thumper’s post in an odd way of just saying that you never know where life is going to lead you and, in twenty years, how much might change so just do what you can to accept it and steam ahead.

I say this because last night I had dinner with three of my best friends, two female and one male last night, from high school after many months of staying in touch via Facebook. When were were 17 I idolized all three of these people. They were beautiful. They were smart. They were the kids at the cool lunch table and, while I was invited, I never really felt like I belonged there so I would hang back. These were the kids who were going to run the world when they were 50. I was sure of it and I was happy to ride along in their wake. They were/are all from prominent families and went to the same blazer wearing, hair cut rule setting private prep school that I did. While I never once doubted I would have a good life, I envied what they would become.

Flash forward 27 years to last night and, wow, the concrete evidence that the people we think we will be or how we think others will be when we are younger could never have been proved to be so false. First, all of them are divorced, two for the second time. None of them finished college – a fact that I do not judge them for at all, but these kids had free rides and all failed out or just walked away. They had big hair and 80’s eyeshadow and still talked about who did what to who at the basketball games on Friday night. They told tales of foreclosures, repossessions, drug addictions, sex addictions, and, worse, addictions to shopping at Walmart and on QVC. It went on and on until the realization hit me that I was the one at the table who was in a 17 year gay marriage to a dominant man who loves collars and leashes, who has a boyfriend whose wife keeps his genitals locked in steel and who I love to ask to wear plugs in his ass, and I have now taken to taking naked selfies in my car yet, yet, I was the one at the table who CLEARY had the most balanced, happy, fulfilled life of all of them. How fucking cool is that?

Of course, I didn’t share all of those details even though I wanted to, but, I also realized that last night I did not complain about one single thing in my life nor did I wish I had ANY parts of theirs, which is a far cry from how 17 year old Drew felt about these three. In some ways I think this just made me realize more about how happy I am of how things are working and how my future is so much brighter, kinks and all.