Relaxed Faced Emoticon Here


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Hello from Paradise – other wise know as Hawaii – one of my favorite spots on the planet. I feel like I start so many of these posts with “sorry I have not been very active” so I won’t do that, but all is good, life has just been crazy winding up so I can now wind down.

In the kink world, I have been locking more, but there is not wild sex or nights locked in a cage in the garage to report about and no in depth details about the depths of Thumper’s ass or any of that fun because timing, yet again, sucks. But, I have no worries that all of this will sort itself out pretty soon and I have been enjoying getting to know a few new dominant friends and a few new submissive friends and when the time is right I can see myself taking some significant steps toward both of those directions.

Axel’s recovery is not where it should be and he is still in pretty constant pain, so his job this week is to explore some alternative therapies while my job is to relax. I am not an in-the-water-person and I will turn bright red in 5 minutes even with 100+ SPF, but part of relaxing for me is writing, so I hope to catch you all up very soon.

Until then, E pili mau na pomaika`i ia `oe.


Dear Hunter:

Dear Hunter:

I have been angry, sad and confused this week over the shootings in Florida and, as you know, I wrote this semi-lovely piece about what’s it’s like to not be able to comfortably hold my husband’s hand in public. As I wrote that, the voices in my head – both the professional (the clean) and the personal (the smutty) – were screaming at me to stand up against this, to be a stronger guy, to hold Axel’s hand proudly, and to show the world that we, two boring balding middle aged guys, were strong, proud individuals who were not afraid of anything. I felt good about that until I failed 26 hours later. Miserably.

I failed over a kiss.

An airport kiss to be exact.

In an odd twist of events, I was home on a Tuesday and Wednesday and was flying out for two days of work at the end of the week followed by a drive to Montreal where I am going to spend some time with the chastity God, Chris, from Steelwerks. What’s different here is that Axel is meeting me in Montreal and we are going to have a few days of “us time” along with time with new friends, so he took me to the airport so we would not have to have two cars there when he leaves tomorrow.

To be honest, I would almost rather hand over all of my body to the man versus the key fob to my truck because he tends to do things like scrape wheels on the curb and leave protein bar wrappers and random peanuts in crevices, but, nonetheless, it was easier to let him drive me in mine. We were laughing and talking on the way to the airport and as we drove up for him to drop me off, he went right to the Delta/American door and, even though he went way too fast toward the curb for my liking, he pulled smack up right in the middle of all the people in an effort to make it easier for me to get my bags and get inside.

As I gathered my things and went to exit, I was about to offer him my traditional “thank you for loving me and caring for me and I will miss you so much” pat on the leg, but he foiled that and HAD THE NERVE to lean in for a kiss. A KISS. Right there in front of all of those people, he wanted to kiss me inside my black truck with a black interior and tinted windows. I mean, it was just like we had a spotlight on us in that shrouded blackness and everyone was going to turn and look while pointing. My head raced because, I was scared, I was aware of the people, and I was very uncomfortable in those 14 seconds this was taking. Why the fuck couldn’t I just do the leg pat? I really raged in my head for a second and, then, I kissed him.

All day I thought I had failed myself because I had that fear in my head. I thought I was weak and I had cowered. I thought I should be ashamed of myself for even worrying. I thought about the fact that when Thumper drops me off he kisses me and that I am often proud of that and why that might be different for me and decided that it just is because, with Thumper, there is an “in your face” feeling I have because I could, if asked, just say “he’s my friend and we are affectionate – fuck off” but when it was my husband I would have to tell my whole story and would have to come out, yet again, in that brief moment exposing myself to whatever that could be.

As I write this, I realize I did not technically fail because, I did kiss him, but it was sadly not  what a kiss should be remembered as being. But, I did it.

As I flew, I had thought about what, if anything, I wanted to write about this because I am really wanting the world to get back to naked pictures and Thumper’s “dick” pics, but, I decided I would process that a bit and see what I felt like that.

Then, as I arrived at my hotel last night, I got this as a response from you to my ramblings about the shooting the day before and you literally made my day.

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You were a first time commenter and, when I got it, I wanted to almost cry because I felt for you as I remembered being a youngish gay man too. But, you also validated me and my feelings as well, because, well, just because. I don’t know your kink side or how you found me, but to realize that someone is using these things as guidance makes me incredibly happy and I hope that when you become a non-youngish man, like me, that these feelings of fear will go away.

To go back to the kiss, I feel like I should point out that I made it 1,273 miles from home and not a single person pointed their finger at me and giggled because I kissed a boy. But, the shear fact I still have that in my head tells me I have a lot of work to do on myself because, thanks to you, Hunter, I realize that these things set a tone for the next generation and that my actions now can determine perceptions in the future.

Thank you for commenting on this and for helping me stay in check with where I should be on these issues. As a youngish gay man, you have an incredible future ahead of you because, even though we are focusing on these negative things these days, the world has literally opened up to us and for us during our actual lifetimes and every single day someone is having their awareness raised.

I you do need a real like role model, message me directly, but, the fear and all of the other things you mentioned are real and will likely always be there for some degree, but you don’t have to give into it, EVER. Just be aware and continue to move gayly forward.



P.S. – Axel (and likely you Thump, if you deserve it), get ready, cause I am kissing you both in a wide public place (perhaps in shade though – you know, baby steps).

The Father, the Son, and the semi-automatic assault rifle

And now a word from Thumper who spells out a lot of what I could not find the words for earlier today.

Denying Thumper

I’ve been struggling with what to say about Orlando. I have so much sadness but it’s mixed with so much anger that I can’t tell them apart. They taste the same in my mouth. I need a word for that. A word that means, “sorrowful rage.”

I hear this massacre isn’t an LGBTQ thing. It’s about mental illness or religious radicalism or easy access to firearms in a country awash in them, but it could have happened anywhere. A movie theater or a coffee house or a sports arena. It’s distasteful for gays to make this about them. But it didn’t happen in any of those places. It happened in a gay nightclub because it was a gay nightclub. Of course, this event is about mental illness and religious radicalism and too many guns, but it’s also very much about being LGBTQ. The hatred for LGBTQ people is the thread…

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The Twitter Tussle

I guess I should preface this post with the fact that I left my hotel at 3:17 this morning to catch a 5:45am flight and had to go though immigration and customs, so I might be cranky. However, if you follow me on Twitter, you will see that this morning I jumped into a word battle between three people who I have always immensely respected when they spoke on topics or life. Now, one is Thumper and the other a friend, and I am on their side of the “battle” against someone who probably won’t talk to me again after this post and, by knowing this in advance, I have to be okay with that even though I really don’t want that to happen because I actually like this guy a lot.

See, to sum it all up, he has basically been saying that the Orlando shooting had nothing to do with the fact the people were gay and everything to do with the fact that the shooter was crazy, because, why else would a non crazy person do such a thing? I agree that there was likely some mental instability, but the murderer in this case held a pretty normal life up until he pulled the trigger and that does not typically define crazy. From what we know, it was his hatred toward two men kissing that enacted a rage within him, though new evidence might suggest he was raging against his own thoughts.

However, that is a moot point to me because I really don’t want to give the shooter more thought than I have to but there is zero doubt in my mind that he targeted those people because he assumed they were gay and that they were embracing, living, and loving in a gay club. This one hit me particularly hard because of the targetedness of it. In other mass shootings, there was a randomness of the victims or the acts that I used to wash it away in my head versus being scared to go to a movie or eat in a cafe. In the specific shootings like Columbine or Sandy Hook, it, in my view, seemed to be an act against the system versus a hatred of first graders, though one could argue the bullied kids did seek specific victims. So while those hurt me as a human, they didn’t strike me in my soul like this one did.

What got me the most was that inside all of these words about the mental state of the shooter, a subtext came out about those of us who feel this pain making the victim’s pain about ourselves that basically said we had no right to take this so personal or to link this to our own lives. In addition, there was also the point made that I should never define myself by the words of others because I would never be happy and, while I agree with that, I do have a point to make.

First, attaching myself to this is possible, in my mind, because I am a card carrying double gold star wearing member of the homosexual community. I celebrate with the community as a whole when we have wins and I grieve with the community as a whole when we are stepped on. I have every right to take this personally because that man shot my people for being just like me and that makes me angry, sad, and, frankly a bit scared. The gay community is huge, but it’s also small in some ways because, as an example, I live five states away and am far older than most of the victims, but one of them was a dear friend of a friend and my friend is now grieving the loss inside my world. No, I did not know the victim at all aside from seeing a few Facebook posts, but the connection being just one away made me feel a bit more vulnerable and brought it that much closer.

To me, this was a further realization that, even though we are legally a couple, I will likely never have the chance to hold Axel’s hand in most public areas or to kiss him when something makes me happy because of the fear of the repercussions. See, for me, I used to say that because it was the fear off someone seeing me as who I am and those repercussions and now that I don’t give a fuck about that, it’s for a different kind of fear all together.`

Finally, on the part about the words of others. As a gay man, I have spent 45 years listening to strangers say who I am and how I love is wrong. I am one of the lucky ones in that nobody in my life who mattered ever said that to me and I was strong enough to rationize the words of others and not take it too personal, though there was always a bit that stung. Last year when the US made marriage legal, I thought maybe then the negativity would go away, but in the last year it’s harder and harder to watch the news when states are now creating laws to invalidate me and my rights. I have always been able to brush that off and rarely has it ever been said to me, which is mostly, I assume, because I look like everyone else to them. It still sucks and, if ANYTHING good of this can happen, I hope American’s will finally see this is more than about you where one puts his penis. 

Again, none of this shocked me, but the fact that it came from a fellow kinkster stung especially hard because, as a group, who the fuck are we to judge anything?


This will be brief, but timing being what it is, this morning I posted a post about looking better naked and all that jazz just as the news was breaking about the horrific Orlando shootings. I have a rule that I will not delete something I have posted (thanks to Thumper for that) but feel like I have to say that is weighing on me heavily because of the 50 people who were killed and the hundreds whose day to day lives have forever been changed, how I look naked matters not.

I have been to The Pulse club and, though it was so long ago that I still had sweeping hair, the idea that these people were killed for being who they were in a place where, for some of them, was the only place they could be who they were, just saddens me to a level I am not sure I have felt in a long while. No, as far as I know, I didn’t know anyone there, but, that does not change my feelings.

Further, to see Mike Huckabee and Ted Cruz “praying” today when just three months ago they attended rallies where a preacher wanted gays “put to death” is also horrific to me. Follow that up with Trump taking congratulations for being right about Islam and, I just want to scream. However, I am on an airplane and would likely be arrested, so I write in silence.

To all of those who have been affected by this massacre in ANY way, shape or form, my energies go out to you and I wish you peace.


Look Better Naked 2016

So, it’s yet again time for me to tell the world I am going to do something by modifying something I told the world I would be doing a bit ago. You know, just because I can. And, yes, there are more important things to talk about like the fact last week was a shitty week as far as news about someone very important, a fucked up travel week, a mostly locked week, and the fact that I had permission to orgasm after just over three weeks and the stars didn’t align for my visit north for that to happen. However, this post is just about me, nakedness, and working out.

To cut to the chase, Axel would love it if I didn’t walk around the house fully clothed (usually even with shoes) and has requested that I “show more skin” at home. In fact, I am usually just as clothed in hotel rooms because, well, I don’t like being naked. Well, actually, not naked per se because I could let my lower half be breezy all day, but I just hate not wearing a shirt.

Call it a body issue thing, a neurosis, a quirk, whatever, but just don’t do the “you look fine, why worry?” because, well, anyone who has any of the above things doesn’t need to hear that. I know that I am not gross shirtless and know that most of the people who would see me likely look worse than me in some way, but it’s just something I have never done. I think a lot of this goes back to when I was a kid and I was always the kid in the pool in a T-shirt, on the beach in sleeves, or playing in the backyard under the tree. It wasn’t a fatness thing (though there were the plump years – did I ever mention I was nearly a 12 pound baby at birth?) but more so because I was then, now, and will forever be, white as a ghost and my super power is the ability to burn in less than three minutes. I still think of poor Thumper last year when he and I rented a convertible in California. He was just filled with a combination of sadness and disbelieve that with a minute of lowering the top, I was pink.

But, I only tell you that to both explain why a lot of my pictures often look like an X-ray and to just say I know where it comes from. My job now is to work at being shirtless more and to practice it more and more and one day show a full pic like my English friend Smitten X on Twitter with the raging 5o year old body.

So, FINALLY, the point of the post, I am now launching Look Better Naked 2016 for me and whoever wants to join me by pretty much just saying that since there is no magic prize. It’s not secret that I failed at Look Better Naked 2015 but I tried and did learn a few things that will help. That said, what I learned is that I cannot follow a fitness program, I cannot log points, I cannot even plan my workouts, because, if I do those things, I cannot win.

I officially gave up trying that stuff about six weeks ago and now have just made a promise to myself that I will do whatever I can, whenever I can be that going to the gym to work what needs it that day, doing tricep dips off of hotel desks while waiting on return emails or IM’s, or grabbing a quick 50 pushups off the bathroom counter or tub while the shower heats up. The funny thing is that, without anything organized, this is actually working for me and I feel better now than I have in a long time body wise.

Yes, my diet is still trashed and I don’t do enough cardio, but baby steps here, people, baby steps.

The pic of above was taken yesterday and another the day before. Hopefully the next will be better.



TSA outing

Just a quick little post, but it’s 5:15am and I am having breakfast in an airport lounge trying to pretend like I don’t have what seems like 18 hours ahead of me today to just hurry up and wait. Anyway, at 4:50am I was strolling through the Pre-Check line minding my own business (well, not really because a family in front of me had laminated their boarding passes – laminated – because they went in their travel notebook – a notebook. It was so cute that it was only made me a little irritated that they took forever in front of me only to be sent back to get new ones – because the TSA agent can’t write on plastic) and walked up like the cynical business traveler I am giving the agent who told me “Good job”, as if I were two, for going through the metal detector all by myself after throwing my one bag on the belt. Of course, said bag contains the Axel so I always pause a minute and watch and, sure enough, this time my bag went to the little side belt meaning that it needed attention.

Now, this happens occasionally because I have a lot of chargers and such and never before because of the chastity device, but today, as they took me and the bag to the little table with the X-ray image, I heard the female agent say “it looks like a knife“. That made me laugh to myself because I have not been trusted with a pocket knife since I was 9, having lost two of my Dad’s childhood knives and having had to have stitches – twice, so I had to wonder. The male agent was great. He opened the bag, he looked at my little pouches that hold my life, and didn’t touch a thing, though I saw him smile. He zipped up the bag, handed it to me and said, “all clear, Sir” and just as I was about to step away, he said “the metal of your chastity device was lined up where it looked like it was sharp. No worries. Have a great day.”

Looking back, I hope I didn’t actually make an audible gasp like I heard in my head, but I just smiled and said “Thank you, Sir. I will take care of that in just a bit”, to which he just lit up and smiled.

Oh, what a funny start to the day.