“Why yes, my boyfriend’s wife does controls his penis.”

Today I bought a new car.

Cars, especially German ones, are one of my few vices and since I lease, it’s something I get to do every 30-36 months and, since I am such a loyal guy, I have pretty much stayed with the same dealership for at least the last eight or nine of mine and Axel’s vehicles.

With that said, there is one lady at the dealership who has been there the entire time I have been a customer. She is the F&I person, which means she has the little windowless office with the giant dot-matrix printer that prints those mile long forms where you go when you are ready to sign everything. Since I actually picked out my car, turned in my lease virtually, and made my deal via email while I was traveling, she was literally my first stop when I got there. We have done business together so many times, that it was very formulaic as she does not try to sell me anything extra nor does she have to explain all of the 11,019 documents one has to sign for such transactions.

So, during this we started talking about Axel, how he was doing, her recent divorce, gay marriage, and right wing republicans, who, coincidentally, scare both of us a great deal. Around this time we started talking about things that most professional people in a professional setting wouldn’t discuss, but, well, fuck it, we did anyway. With this sordid conversation came her declaration that she often wished she had a penis because men, especially in her business, always seem to have the upper hand  and she said she often wondered what would have been different if she had been a man. Following that, she said something along the lines of “of course, I would probably have to give up control because, trust me, you can always control a man if you control his penis”, to which I smirked internally while saying, “you know, that works the same way with gay men too”.

Now, we were both talking about withholding sex, but I doubt she realized I was discussing it with visions of steel and locks dancing in my head, but if there was a way I could have discretely dialed Thumper and just screamed “you are on a call, be quiet and just listen” and then laid my phone down on the desk I would have, because this was just classically funny in the sitcom that often plays out as my life.

From there, I signed my name, initialed here, initialed there, and somehow, just somehow she decided to tell me more about her divorce, how her husband had cheated, and that she was just “done with men” which is when I made a joke about her coming out to me. She laughed and said “actually, I did have little things with women in college, but you know, they are fun, but you know, I am just not capable of starting a life and having an exclusive relationship with a woman, because I just love men”. I laughed which caused her guard to come up and say something like “I know that doesn’t make sense” and, again I laughed thinking of nothing else but Thumper at that point.

I said something like “you know, you can have both, don’t you? have you not ever listened to Dan Savage?” (she had not) and then I said, “actually, I have a really good friend, who is male, but identifies almost exactly as you do. He calls himself bipanflexible or something like that, but it just basically means his penis is driven by both sexes but his heart is driven just by one sex, women”. She looked like I has just told her something that caused a spark to fire in her head, so being the proud cocky one I was at that moment, I decided to take this further by saying “actually, he’s married to a wonderful woman but he has a boyfriend who he cares about in a different kind of way, but it really works for him, his boyfriend, and his wife who is not only completely aware of it, she endorses it.”

Her. Mind. Was. Blown.

She processed this for a bit, while she also processed my down payment, and then said “that’s really great and odd, but how does his boyfriend feel about the wife and that he’s always going to be in second place. Is he not jealous?” It’s a natural question and one that one might immediately ask so I didn’t think much about it which was absolutely obvious seconds later when I said:

“Oh, I don’t mind that at all, she’s a wonderful woman and I think the world of her and have nothing at all to ever be jealous of because the boundaries were always clear.”

I don’t think I heard myself because I wondered why she had such an odd look on her face right before I processed backwards a second while a chorus of “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me, fuck” played in my now revealed as the boyfriend head.

She looked at me and rather smiled and said “well, good for you, now do you want your first payment processed today or on the 15th and, oh, I have to ask, does Axel know?”

I said “of course he knows although let’s not tell him I told you, okay?” and then we laughed a bit.

The business was done and we were wrapping up and I thought to myself I should at least close the loop, so when we parted I said, “Oh, ____, one more thing. To go back to the first part of our conversation, despite me being the boyfriend, there is absolutely no doubt at all that his wife controls the penis. In fact, he often says she refers to it as hers, so I think you are on to something there”.

Open Marriage and Boyfriend Sex

So this week I am wandering through Pennsylvania conflicted about life, work, the world, and how the stupidity of some people continue to amaze me.

Regarding life, work, and I guess the world, it’s very weird right now because they have all collided in a way that is not making me happy with any of them nor is it particularly making me angry or sad either. It’s just “unsettled” and I don’t do that well if you haven’t picked up on that already. The job is the job and it ebbs and flows as anyone who also bills by the hour understands. I am having a particularly good month, but some of my colleagues are not, thus causing all sorts of drama that doesn’t really matter to me, yet just creates email exchanges that make my stomach turn with worry at times.

The bigger issue in this category is that Axel and I are both still very, very unsettled.

I feel like I have to give some sort of preamble here that Axel and I will be fine and I am beyond certain about that, but we are just in one of those places where all couples go at times where our interest in each other keeps getting sidelined by events,  emotions, and about eight pounds between us that we have each gained (me 3 him 5) which send those sexy feelings to the back burner. It all started with me returning from Australia in a jet lagged fog and then leaving again in 36 hours only to come home to the disaster weekend that I blogged about. Add to that the suicide of a client last week and, unfortunately, the attempted suicide of another yesterday (there is almost always a second attempt as an attention thing- always), and the man is just emotionally spent. Unfortunately, all of this hit at the same time the Steelheart arrived, the timing of which was supposed to be the “official marking point” of the shift in our relationship, so that has just added another element to this which is beyond our control. We are also both the type of people who will mourn for the plan that didn’t happen while shouldering the responsibility  of the “failure” versus just making a new plan. That is stupid, but just us, and while we know better, it is what it is. So, it’s just bad timing and there has been no sex, not even light petting. Just really no interest on either side, which, again, happens. The groove is starting to come back and hopefully by the time I get home later in the week we will be fucking like bunnies again.

Now, all of that up there out of the way, I still continue to smile every day about how this open marriage thing is working out. Granted, I think it’s more than just the open marriage because it’s also the particulars about how, and especially who, is involved in this particular openness. In our case, what made me really smile Sunday night, while laying in bed trying to force ourselves to go to sleep early since I had to go to the airport at 4am, we started to get a bit flirty, a tad touchy, but the erections were just not there (well, his at least, mine was covered). We just laughed about not having the energy or the current drive (which in itself is pretty damn cool when you think about it) and then Axel said, “Well, a year ago I would have been feeling horrible about not giving you great sex right now because of everything, but, the good news is I am just assuming that you had (and will have) great sex with Thumper, so there’s a ton of pressure off of me. How funny is that? Fuck him well, husband” He went on to say that if I needed to take an extra trip to use up some energy it was fine with him. Of course, he knows it doesn’t work that way schedule wise and he knows I wouldn’t, but the sheer fact he said that made me swoon a bit. Regarding that too, Thumper and I seem to have found an interesting new groove in the long distance, D/s, boyfriendship thing and we are just rolling along groovily. There might even be a third blog out there if anyone is interested in searching that clue for the hidden immunity idol (yes, yes, I still love Survivor). Just sayin’.

Actually, I either tweeted or wrote here last week about Axel saying that Thumper is now “just a part of our extended family” and about the comfort level with which his name now comes up – an act that is paralleling in a similar yet very different way in Thumper’s house – but it’s very true and, to quote Shaggy from Scooby Doo, that’s “neato”. It’s baseball season and Axel being a former pitcher, Thumper being a GIANT fan (though not a Giants fan), and me being in the middle and now a fan too is rather a cute thing because, when timing allows, the three of us have watched several games together with Axel next to me on the sofa, Thumper and I texting, and all three of us going back and forth with each other about the game and/or questions. It’s been suggested that Axel be included and it become a group text, but that was quickly nullified because Thumper and I realized that we would have to clean up our conversation and, at the same time, Axel realized we would have to clean up our conversation, so that idea died as fast as it started.

Finally, my third point in this update post is about the stupidity of some of our fellow blog friends who continue to send me messages about “turning Thumper gay” as if I can be contracted out to do the same to their significant other. It’s crazy because, one just assumes people would know that can not happen, right? And, if it could, I am evidently a huge failure because even Belle is now calling me out, and laughing, about my lack of skill in that department so it’s a no go people. Being gay is clearly is a choice one makes for themselves when they check that extra little box on their first library card and, once that is done, there is no changing it. It’s your permanent record, folks. Nobody fucks with that!

(disclaimer: yes, yes, that was a joke about the choice and the library card. My straight or gay survey came in the mail with my gay card application and invoice for the dues – being Double Gold Star has it’s privileges)

Baseball, Ignorance, and Wand Flitting.

I had not planned on writing this post tonight. Instead, I had planned on doing a bit of the work I am very behind on, vacuuming the pollen crap I have tracked into the house, and eating something really bad for me (because Axel is gone tonight) before settling in to watch the Dodgers play the Giants in game two of this series. They lost last night and one is acceptable, but tonight is a pitching battle and I am looking forward to watching that with Axel on the couch and Thumper on the text.

So, all those plans and then I get a nasty comment on an almost week old post that was, I believe, unintentionally vile. I say unintentional because, it’s very odd, but a great deal of the negative comments I have received all tend to come from a good place in theory (protection of their virtual friend Thumper, admiration for our relationship, etc) but then they always seem to just add a word or a phrase that takes a turn south and there is no recovery from that point. Today’s commenter was worried about Thumper’s health, his status as a straight-ish man, and about Belle. They always worry about Belle. I actually think that’s sweet, but knowing what I know about Belle, she’s a woman that can stand on her own and the rabbit knows he has it good, so he’s not going to do anything to hurt her and, for the record, never would I.

Oh, and she called Axel “my lover”. Eww. If she did not reveal herself to be a Christian woman named Barbara, I would have thought she was an effeminate man in his 60’s based on that word alone.

To that end, it’s been a weird week in my apparently sinful house because of someone like this commenter, but in a completely, horribly different way that has distracted Axel and taken his focus, and mind, off of anything we discuss within these blog pages. I am struggling with what I can and cannot say based on both his blog and professional privacy, but without me saying again what he does for a living, I think you all know enough to make a good guess from the past if you have read me awhile. Anyway, over the last few weeks he has been working with a young client who, from what I understand, had a different approach to life than most of us. Axel doesn’t tell much and I don’t ask questions, but, I know this guy was not gay or bisexual, just different. They had some very intense conversations in the past about someone in his life that shamed him in the name of God, religion, and society and this guy was very scarred from it. Again, I don’t know what it was because we are not allowed to discuss details and don’t, but I suspect it was his mother or someone similar who was doing this to him about his life, and so this guy decided he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He didn’t want to worry about it anymore. He didn’t need to hear another Barbara make him feel like he was less than he was. So, Sunday night he fixed it. At least in his own mind, I pray.

He fixed his Barbara by jumping off the roof of a hotel. Thirty seven stories he fell. In a matter of seconds, he was no longer different but just a statistic.

The Barbara in his life will not be bothering him anymore.

Now, I only put Barbara in this line because she sparked the thought in my head today (to be clear, not of suicide but of wording) because if I were not a grown man who was confident in his life, his love, his marriage, his sexuality, and his boyfriend on the side, she could have hurt me all in the name of her good Christian words. Again, for whatever reason, I don’t want to think she chose to be so vile, but her ignorance of “the gays”, of open marriages, and of disease transmission just made her that. I can’t decide if that is sad or funny. Or both. Of course, the flip on this is that if I were not those things and had those confidence level, I would never be blogging it in the first place so with this I have become my own devil’s advocate. Funny.

So, earlier in the week, or maybe even in that same post, there was another stupidly stupid comment about how I was turning Thumper gay, as if I had a magic want to change him. I wrote about that so it’s old news, but I have thought about that alleged wand often this week and, if I had one, I think I would use it on the Barbara’s in the world so that I could end their shaming, their hate, their ignorance in one magic flit (I also just realized, at the same time, I would wipe out half the American political system, hmmmm). I’d not change myself to straight any more so than I would make Thumper gay, but I would try to end the hatefulness that make people not proud to be who they are. Maybe that kid I mentioned would still be alive it someone had done that to his Barbara (again, I don’t know details, it could be multiple people and I do not want to presume it was just one. These facts I do not ask nor are they volunteered).

The thing I find the most funny about any of these things is that these people read all the details of everything before making such comments. If they are so turned off and appalled by it, why the fuck do they continue to read it? I know that I do not like spiders and, for the sake of knowledge have read enough about them to validate that I don’t like them, but my browser history sure as hell does not contain lists of spider porn, so why have they been so upset about me and Thumper that they just had to read his blow by fuck description of our sexual encounter?

Thumper says he thinks it “made her wet”, whatever that means 🙂

Now, I am not ending this post on a sad note, because that’s not what I do. So, just to make fun of Barbara a bit (if I have not shamed her into submission already) she mentioned that she hopes I find the right woman one day.

Thumper and I had some fun with this and created a little game we might play on how to find this woman through a series of personal ads and penile thrusting to point me in the right direction, so if anything comes of this, please let this serve as the public notice that we are calling dibs on the patent.

We just might even name it after you, Babs.

Karma, bitch.

Distance makes the dick grow harder.

It’s 4:45am and I am sitting in an airport in Texas waiting to catch the first of two flights that will have me home by noon, although I am so tempted to walk up to the gate next to me that goes directly to Thumper’s city because that rabbit really left me wanting more last week when we were together. In many ways, I think the fact I just can’t is a good thing because if we did live in the same city, it would be “too easy” and “too easy” generally equals trouble in some form or fashion which neither of us need. Plus, we already know that both of our spouses like the distance and, maybe more importantly in the long run, neither of us are the type of people who have the personalities or the jobs where we can shut down without planning, so we would be forcing (I use that word laughingly) each other into 20 minute fuck sessions between airport runs, trips to Target, and the like. The distance makes us both have to block a day and a half out of our calendars weeks in advance and, although life inevitably creeps into those days at times, it’s nice to have the time we set aside for each other dedicated to bonding (literally and figuratively) and just pure, driven, energetic sex – with a side of pad thai, tacos, baseball and, of course, friendship.

Now, I KNOW those things to be true and believe them deeply within myself, but, again, I am literally steps away from a plane that would take me there to fuck him by 9:30am and, practicalities aside such as it would be very expensive and I am not sure he’s even open this morning (pun semi intended), it’s taking everything I have to not walk over there and pull out my American Express. It’s driving me nuts, BUT, I like this feeling and it just makes me look forward to our next time together in a bit over three weeks. FUCKING HELL I WANT TO GO THOUGH.

Some of this is that yesterday I had a huge day, Not huge in terms of busy or anything bad, but I had one of those presentations, a sales type of one, that literally could make my entire year should things go well. It was three hours long and involved a lot of pandering and I was accompanied by a senior member of my staff who is as intense as Thumper is horny, so it was just a long day that I dreaded. Thumper, did his part by providing me some videos and a few pictures to “boost my energy” and they were lovely distractions to get me through what turned out to be an okay, kinda meh, kinda maybe day. I can’t say I rocked it but I certainly didn’t do badly either. For that lack of clarity, I blame the audience, because I was presenting to 18 people who all needed to be there, but 18 people who didn’t know how to mute their iPhone’s incoming mail ding or discretely send an email without the “whoosh” sound that accompanies it. That’s just rude and really angered me, plus, I am addicted to my phone just enough that I sorta salivated every time I heard one of those sounds.

From Thumper’s account of our time together last week, I think it’s clear it was a good connection and was just fucking hot. I have thought about writing my side of what I was thinking against his, but I think I like the one side just out there because it’s a different side of me that is not typically seen and I like the fact that I am the man that can use his hands and other body parts to “transport” him out of his day to day world to that place where his eyes roll back in his head and his inner bunny starts growling. He commented on a comment that said “you should have seen my face” and I can promise you, if there was any way I could have taken a picture of that face, just for him to see and me to use as a screensaver, I would have. It’s a good, happy, sated, glowing face, folks, and one that I hope to see many times again.

Speaking of the comments, that particular post, for whatever reason, got a multitude of more personal questions about life, friendship and love and I found that fascinating and refreshing, as these tend to be the ones that get the “you cheaters are going to hell comments”. I am not going to write much about them because I know that Thumper is planning to respond to them, so I don’t want to steal his thunder.

Also, as an FYI, I plan to write more about getting the Steelheart, but to be honest I have not been in it much as the type of presentation I had to do yesterday meant that I didn’t need to be focusing on getting used to steel swinging between my legs. Plus, Axel and I have to work out some ground rules and a few recent events with his world, nothing bad for us personally, have just kept him distracted.

But, back to Thumper and my desire to be on and in him this morning…

<happy sigh>

“Have you not read anything I’ve written?” – a reminder for us all

Having recently had my junk encased in steel for the very first time, I found the process both hot and very intimidating thus leaving me with many stupid questions as the process evolved. Luckily, did you know there’s a blog for that?

Kidding aside, I am writing this less about me and my experience with it (there will be time for that later) and more as just a reminder that Thumper, through his website Denying Thumper, has answered just about every single question there is about chastity, fit, locked living, and more. I knew that and have read them all, but the other day just served as a reminder to me that I thought I would pass along.

For those not up to speed, Axel plans to keep me locked when I am not with him in that naked sex way or when I am with Thumper, well, also in that naked sex way (or any other time with Thumper too). But, being able to call Thumper my boyfriend, while something I consider myself lucky for on many levels, was particularly lucky in this realm because he’s one of the world’s experts of chastity, at least in my opinion. What that translates to, for me, was that I was able to hand him the measuring tape and my American Express and say “fix me up, boyfriend” and, after a series of measurements, some of which involved him touching me in places I am not sure he really needed to (however I did not complain) he got online and about nine weeks later I have my new Steelheart. It’s just like his except for an obvious exception.

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Also, because of the way it was ordered, the device was shipped to him so he delivered it to me last Thursday when we saw each other (he remembered THAT but not my T-shirt – FYI. I’m telling Belle). When he left it, it sat in a box in my room where I almost didn’t want to look at it, but again, that’s for another time. So, when we were wrapping up the naked time Friday, I asked him to fit me in it, which, I could tell, excited and puzzled him a bit because I think this may have been the first time he was not looking down at a device as it went on. Anyway, as it began becoming part of me, I suddenly went stupid and forgot everything I have ever read on his blog.

I asked: “Is it supposed to hang like this?” to which he said “yes, have you not read me?”

I asked: “Wow, this is tight here, should it be? again, “uh huh, seriously, have you not read me?”

We continued on and as he confusingly turned the lock (he’s never twisted in the opposite direction), he said “See, you can’t feel anything, watch this” which was followed by what I would assume was the first for us both, a blowjob with me locked and him sucking a thick metal tube. In theory it felt amazing, however, I digress.

He asked that I stay locked until the airport (some hours later) so he’d be able to help me see how it felt, etc. During this time we lunched and played around the city, but again, I started with the questions:

I asked: “I have to pee, can I stand?” He condescendingly nodded and, when I arrived in the restroom I received a text that said “seriously, dude, have you not read a word I have said? – smiley face”

I asked: “Is it odd that I can’t really even tell it’s on?” He didn’t even have to talk as the expression told me that “I needed to re-read” and that I might be walking to the airport.

Anyway, this was just a reminder to the world that he has written this incredible work of advice, information and direction and those of us now part of the “club” need to remember to access it more often and send others to it. I have to admit that some of my questions I never would have asked if the expert wasn’t on his knees in front of me and I take a lot of this a lot lighter than many because I do have access to the expert, which, again, makes me a lucky man.

Somewhere else

A few observations from my most recent assignation with Drew…

He flew in Thursday and I, of course, had to be on a conference call at the time we were coming back from the airport. I was almost supernaturally horny that day so all I wanted to do was get into his hotel room, rip his pants open, and suck his cock. That was mission one. Life, though.

But yeah, I sucked that cock. And then he fucked me. No drama, no artifice. Just sex.

Next morning, for whatever reason, I wasn’t in the same place. Maybe because the cock sucking and ass fucking itch had already been scratched. Maybe because Belle and the kids were interacting with me via text before I came over and even in the sphere of being in his room. Whatever, I didn’t feel so much in the same place as the day before. Eventually, he stood before me and pinched my nipples. Not as hard as he’s able to, but hard enough. The pain wasn’t on the right channel. It was plugging into the “ow” socket and not the “mmmm” socket. But I forced myself to take it. Reminded myself that part of my sexuality was to demonstrate to my top that I could take their pain. That was what I gave back to them as they gave it to me. So I let it wash over me.

Then he put the clamps on. So much more pain. So hard to take. Dangerously close to surfacing and calling for a time out. But I took it best I could. Pathetic, sympathy-seeking whines escaped me (and, in retrospect, probably only encouraged him).

Then the turn. He brought a high discipline collar this time. One I’ve never worn before.

He had already put the cuffs on my wrists and ankles. Had already put the harness on me. Had already secured my hands behind my back. I had been decidedly not subby giving him pointed feedback. Not a good bottom. Again, I was just letting him go through the motions. But there’s something about collars. Something about the feeling of leather being cinched around your throat. Smelling it under your nose. Hearing it creak. Immediately, before the buckle was buckled, I felt myself being pulled down into the warm goo of submission. The feeling of being outside my body observing the scene started to dissolve. I entered myself and started to inhabit my role. To feel it in my chest.

The specifics of the order of things after this is a bit of a blur. He put a ball gag in my mouth and cinched it tight. I couldn’t work it out with my tongue. Barely budge it. He put a blind over my eyes. A one point, I was leaned over a little ottoman and fucked roughly. Spit dripped from the gag freely as I had no way of stopping it. The steel between my legs swung and the ring on the collar clanked to the rhythm of his pleasure taking. Then he had me bent over the bed, face in the fluffy comforter, soon slick with spit. The collar held my head out straight and eyes forward. Hands secure. Penis locked. Ass full of him. Face rubbed in my own spit.

After the fucking, he was back at my nipples. Pinching and twisting. He’d give me a warning before ratcheting up the intensity. He’d ask I could take more. I always said yes. Don’t ask. Just say you’re taking it. Just push me. Wait for me to break.

But I didn’t break. I couldn’t break. I was past the point of breaking. No matter how hard he pinched and twisted and abused the tender pink spots, all I felt was hotter, harder pleasure. There was no air in the tube. Just straining hard oozing meat. I found myself in that place where pain ceases to exist.

“Please, sir. Hurt me.”

Be bent me back over the ottoman and went to work on my ass. With his bare strong hands and his wide black belt. His technique was flawless. His aim true. But again, no pain. Just pleasure wrapped in fire. HURT. ME.

Gah. I’m shivering now just thinking about it. My eyes want to close. Even inhabiting the memory affects me. Pulls me down.

I don’t know where the door to that place is. I never notice going through the door. I only recognize the room when I’m in it. There’s no way for me to give directions to him. How to get me there. Restriction of movement. Taking my control. Using me. The collar. The cuffs. Some alchemy of all those things.

Maybe there is no door. Maybe it’s a transporter. One moment in one place, the next somewhere else.

Thankfulness

Thumper just dropped me off at the airport for what is going to be a difficult trip home (changed flight, bad connection, bad seats. yada yada yada) BUT I feel like I just wanted to drop a note to say thank you.

To whom, I am not really sure, but I feel like I owe the universe a big thank you in addition to those that really count like Axel, Belle, and, of course, Thumper.

I had no idea when I emerged on my kink journey years ago – when I first admitted this to Axel – that I would wind up here, in this place where I feel incredibly supported, happy, sated, and lucky in many ways.

Thumper and I had our typical day and a half visit, which, in the reality of how things have to work due scheduling around his life and mine, generally equals two meals together (this time lunch and lunch) and about seven or so hours of general time with each other, most of which, shockingly, is not spent having sex – though one day with any luck we might figure out how to do that continuously. 

Regarding the sex, in my opinion it keeps getting better, but I will leave it up to him to write about should anyone care to hear the sticky details. And, don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for the sex, but I’m equally as thankful to the universe for the other chunk of time we spend not having it. I really never thought I’d be able to find someone who I can do all the nasty stuff with who I also really admire and want to spend time with who would also be part of my muggle life too. I know I’ve said this before, but it frankly still just blows my mind at times. 

That’s where the thankfulness outside of Belle and Axel comes in because I think the world did he and I a favor in the pairing of things because there is no longer a question of whether friendship will be part of our relationship. It’s just there and growing and I’m proud to call him part of my inner circle, even though he’s an ass sometimes as well (one day there will be a “behind the blog” on E about him so I’m saving those stories). 

Finally, all of these things are really directed at one new person who reached out to me this week who I think is very much like me, but who has a husband very unlike Axel. He’s scared to admit his feelings to his husband and does not see any way possible that there will be a way that all will be well. To him, I don’t know your story well, but I can promise you that I used to think that about Axel and would also bet that Thumper felt the same way about Belle. Obviously I can’t promise the same as your results may vary, but, I sincerely hope that, should you ever do it, that you wind up as lucky as me and the rabbit.

Home for 24 hours then on the road again. The steelheart has arrived too, but more on that soon, though Thumper has the pictures.

Oh no, I hope Drew doesn’t turn me gay too!

This weekend was a bad weekend for my D/s world mostly because my muggle world took over and, if you follow the blog, it took over with a vengeance that in hindsight is now almost comical. So, weekend over, I am now sitting on the first of two flights that will get me to my northeastern destination today for a very busy day tomorrow. However, the busy day will be worth it as it will actually get me back home on a Tuesday night for two rare midweek nights at home before I get to go see the rabbit later in the week. I’m excited about seeing him this time more than most simply because it’s just been too long (longer than typical visits simply due to calendar issues) and the connection, the friendship, and, to be all zen-like here, the positive energy he adds to a room is just contagious, and I need a bit of that in my world right now.

Oh, and the sex. The (hopeful) dirty, sweaty, steel laden, wet, fun, exciting sex part. Did I forget to mention that?

Silly me, yeah, I like that part too <he says with a wicked, wicked grin>.

Over the weekend, I got several of those horrid commenter comments about how awful I was for turning Thumper gay and possibly doing the same to my friend Happa. I think the writer was very confused by the recent news about Obama banning conversion therapy thinking I was at fault, but those are the kind of stupid posts from stupid people I can have fun with and laugh at because, well, they are stupid. I’m not sure that even if I could wave my alleged magic fairy-fairy wand that, at least in my head, showers the receiver with glitter, I’d actually use it to stop those because they amuse me. We all know, especially from the pictures, that Thumper was pretty far along the bisexual biway long before my magic wand entered the picture. Also, for the record, that was the absolute last time I will even insinuate that my penis is a magic wand because I actually find that creepy and am already keenly aware of whatever talents it may or may not possess.

However, mixed within those hate filled messages that were posted here and on Denying Thumper, I received an email or two directly from the same guy following up on a post Thumper posted Saturday about his health and the care that he received when seeking it. The physician he saw basically said that since he was bisexual and sexually active, he must have had an STD and sent him on his way with some antibiotics and that was that (I am very much summarizing, so please go there to read it if you have not).

What bothered, offended, and saddened me about these notes was that the assumption that I, a gay man, would be a disease ridden whore because, well, the implication was that’s just what gay men are. This makes me grieve for the children possibly being raised by people who think like that and, again, worry me because the writer knew enough about me and Thumper to have read us, which means they likely have some sort of kink or fetish interest themselves. How this is possible that they can be so out of the loop about certain basic things like this and other just day to day issues like gay marriage (he was another one who listed me as “married” with quotation marks) (fuck him) yet still be readers of blogs like these? That just absolutely astonishes me.

But, while I think these are isolated cases, I am still amazed at the way people project their insecurities about bisexuality, open marriage, homosexuality, people who wear white after Labor Day, domination and submission, or anything someone may be doing toward something or someone else. In this case, the four of us involved in this awesome open quadrangle that is working with nary a hiccup seem to really bug the fuck out of some people because I think some wish us failure, just because.

That said, the basic human nature to project yourself into something or on to someone else should not surprise me because when I started making it more public – in my online life at least – that my husband had given me permission to go outside and play, I started getting lots of questions from nosy, or maybe just interested parties, about why I was not “whoring around”. Why didn’t I take this new freedom and run to a bar, invite strangers to my hotel room, or worse, just rub up against strangers in airports? I have often been amused by questions like these because I realized very quickly that they were generally coming from people who were, at least in their opinion, locked down into a relationship and they were simply projecting their fantasies on to me and my freedom.

It wasn’t a new concept really because with my job and travel being what it is, my muggle and non-muggle friends often just can’t fathom why every night after work I am not out exploring local pubs or running to museums on my lunch break, etc. It’s back to that “we all tend to want what we don’t have mentality” and I am as guilty as every one of those people in feeling that way about certain things at certain times, so that’s really just human nature. It’s not hard for me to believe that my friends who are home with two sick kids wish they were with me in Sydney or in Shanghai presumably living it up (especially since I most often cannot discuss what it is I do) but I also bet they have no idea that on many of those nights I would kill to be home with a kid with a sniffle or two. It’s just how the world works.

However, projections of hate and insecurities make no sense to me and, while I will deal with them as they come, I hope I never get used to them. I know many of my fellow bloggers have their own crazy fans, so maybe we should just start feeling special when they “pray for us” or damn us for being actively normal adults with healthy sex and home lives? I for one think that would piss them off more than anything and, at the end of the day, isn’t that what we really want?

The Sky Did NOT Fall – although it did rain a BBQ

Well, contrary to my earlier post, the sky did not fall today and Axel and I are not fighting, although I can’t say we we are really talking either.

I went to bed tonight with Axel and Stella and couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about the last 48 hours, listening to every god damn dog in the neighborhood bark along with people walking to their cars laughing and talking. I think I have mentioned before that we live in a regentrified area of the city where fifteen years ago we were on the cusp of the movement and now, after the gays moved in, of course, there are now 47 bars and restaurants that we can walk to from our house (some people count sheep, I count food establishments). This is wonderful and good, but it’s also noisy as people park all over our streets and ruin my love of sleeping with the windows open when the weather is perfect. Plus, my god damn dishwasher is still beeping to announce that it has finished a load, ironically, because it’s so silent one doesn’t actually hear it when it’s actually working.

Thank you, Bosch.

Anyway, the comments from the last post were very nice and, as always, each one taught me some sort of something, but I also realized through the beautiful Ferns and her comments, that I blogged in the middle of something that was happening and, by the time the comments were coming, I had moved on and things were better. In hindsight, I don’t think I emasculated Axel when I seized control of the bad kitchen elves and squeezed their balls until they made it right, but I also know that I did not behave well because I was WANTING him to be this man that he is not and in reality. He was, most likely, willing to accept a shitty job because he was worried about the installers being away from their families so late and worried that they would get in trouble, because, he said tonight, that they reminded him of some of the homeless kids he had worked with in the past and that he just didn’t want to admit how bad they were at what they were doing. While that is sweet and all, I am still staring at dirt all over the place that we have yet to find time to get to and am still absolutely baffled why nobody, him included, thought to cover any god damned thing in the house OR run a shop vac. But, this will pass and with each swipe of the swifter things will be better.

Also, as a follow up, I think I tried to apply the D/s aspect of him making more decisions and having more actions to something where it didn’t really belong. Him taking those actions on as tasks are not really a Dom action as much as they are him just trying to help spread out the load when I am gone and him being project manager on something. We learned this week that it’s just not going to work out that way and, well, now we know.

In addition, the reality is that I was mad and when I am mad I am not sexual. Period. NADA.

As the afternoon progressed, all was getting better and we were smiling again. However, if life had a soundtrack, weird foreboding music would have been playing because the smiling didn’t last long.

Yes, we went shopping again as it’s that time of year again in the South where we go buy ferns, palms, and bloomy things and, once the vast yellow worm like ribbons of pollen stop covering everything like snow, we spruce up our yards. This year he, the cook, needed a new grill so we borrowed my father’s truck to go get all of the above. Being the gay snobs we are, we decided to go with the big boy grill with the stainless body and the ceramic lid, you know, the one with the big tag on it. This, by the way, is typical of us too as we are often drawn to the shinier bits. We procured these things quickly, loaded them, used lots of straps my father had in his truck and off we went looking forward to going home and just cleaning and ordering a pizza and watching Daredevil (who for the record is HOT).

About this time Thumper sent me a WONDERFUL picture that made me happy for about 127 reasons however it’s also a picture which has absolutely no relevance to this story aside from the timing and I wanted to just rub it in a bit (nah nah).

As we cruised down the road, we heard something that caused an immediate “what was that?” question from both of us at the same time. Long story short, “that” was the sound of dry rotted bungie cords breaking in unison as we looked up to see the grill sliding across the bed and over the side of the truck bed where it narrowly missed a Lexus before landing upside down in the middle of the Peachtree Street of my city. If I had not been so scared we had caused a huge problem for someone else, I would have been mortified. We jumped out to try to collect bits and pieces of the shattered ceramic and the various other parts – along with the shards of our dignity. Luckily we are strong and just threw the now scrap metal into the bed and got out of the way before just sitting quietly staring not saying anything to each other.

As noted before, I thought this would be my perfect time to allow him to save the day but, you know what, he couldn’t. And that was okay actually because at that moment I realized that THAT is what he relies on me for when we are together and has for many, many years. I just “fix” things and he has comfort in that. So, fixer hat now on tight, I launched right in and planned it, knew where to take it, and, thanks to the magic of MasterCard, we just licked our wounds and bought another one (along with about $45 in new bungie cords). I did not go where I shouldn’t go by worrying about emasculating him or anything, but I did realize I went exactly where I needed to be and I think that was a lesson I needed to be shown, although it would have been nice if I could have learned it more cheaply and with something less heavy.

We went to dinner on the way home with grill number two and just each stared at our phone and didn’t talk much. It wasn’t anger, it was just exasperation with a bit of sadness mixed in that our one weekend together was just a cluster fuck ALL THE WAY AROUND and we could not even laugh about it yet and, trust me, if you had seen me in the middle lane picking up debris, you would have laughed I am sure.

It was done and fixed and time to move on and we went outside where then, and only then, did we both suddenly see that as the grill came out, it evidently tried to come back in by banging itself against the side of the truck – my father’s now really dented love.

Fuck me running, this was an expensive day.

So, while I will file the insurance claim Monday, I am making Axel tell my Dad tomorrow.

Best, the sorta old Drew