Look Better Naked – Quick Check

In the quest to look better naked, Thumper and I are quietly tracking and encouraging each other via our Apple Watches and the nifty like circles that rank your day’s activities versus the overall goal. These track movement against calories burned, exercise versus a time goal, and standing more than ten minutes for at least 12 hours a day. Since we are both beta testing Watch OS3, it’s also now sending us updates to each other to be used in an encouragement yet peer pressured sort of way.

No, it’s not that technical, but I have learned I hate tracking that way, so right now it’s just enough pressure when combined with public posting, so, here we go.

Double Dick Down

Finally, a post about sex and chastity, right? Mostly.

So, it’s early in the morning on Friday (2am-ish) and I cannot sleep which is more a product of the dark and scary speech that was made tonight by the man with the scary hair and less because of the steel and titanium cage that surrounds my penis. Actually, that cage is making the bad parts about the week good, but more on that soon.

To go back a few days, I came home from a trip early on Wednesday morning for what will be five whole nights at home, a rarity for me. As either you have read or assumed, over the last few months Axel and I have struggled to find our typical normalcy of intimacy due to a variety of reasons including his physical limitations post surgery, crazier than normal professional schedules on both our sides, and just some regular hiccups in life that every couple goes through regardless of whether or not they have are trying to mix kinky things into their reality. While it’s been frustrating, it has not been scary because it was never “between us”  as it was just a “about us”. So, when I got home Wednesday morning, he happened to be home for a bit waiting on a plumber and we started talking about what exactly we should do about the eternity of the five nights ahead. Of course he wanted me locked since the available time was huge (yeah, I know, it’s nothing to the really locked guys and I would be with you if I could, I swear) and promised that he would make it worth my while if I did. And, of course I did, so the plan was set that before 7pm, I would be locked (I had a massage scheduled at 4:30) and we would not let anything get in the way of this.

With that fate sealed, I decided to push the envelope a bit and ask him to also lock up in the Holy Trainer V2 that we got him some months back (for whatever reason) so that we could test the horny factor of having two penises within one home with no access to either. My request was followed by a reward of sorts for him by me promising him that since I was not unlocking until Monday morning before my flight, that if he made it without any unlocking until 4pm on Sunday, that I would give him my whole self for the night for him to do anything and everything he wanted to do to me without question on my part and that I would even try my best to block out anything work related for the whole night. That did it and, because of his schedule, his time was set for 9pm and after that we would both be sporting new appendages.

I am proud of this for multiple reasons which I will get to, but probably the most is that as soon as we made that pact, the chastity gods decided to test us by throwing a ton of “shit” our way just to see if we’d break and I am proud to say we did not, though I missed my locking deadline by an hour due to a late arriving police officer. See, as we sealed our deal, there was a knock on the door and the plumber Axel had been waiting on had indeed discovered the source of the little dribble of water down our driveway and, well, it was not good news. The little dribble on the surface was a torrent underneath as a tree root had pierced our main water line to the house and by 5:30pm, our yard was a muddy pit as the tree had to come down and out, the main line, which was lead, had to be taken out and replaced  (damn code enforcement), and a corner of the drive had to be broken to be gain more access. This was one of those repairs that you have no choice in and one where your early cost estimate was going higher by the shovel, but you have zero choice in the matter so you just stand there and watch and hope they discover oil or diamonds or that your Visa has more space on it than you remember.

I remember thinking to myself that there was no way my mind was going to be right for locking and that I would simply have to just tell Axel (I get really uptight with unknown money out the door) but I thought to myself that I should relax and think kinky thoughts and all would be well. And it was.

When the work was finally done and I went to move Axel’s car off of the street beside the house back into the gate and the driveway (which had been blocked by the mud) (he wasn’t home but had been picked up by a colleague), part two happened. As I turned the corner my initial thought was “wow, he really parked close to that pole – good for him for using those cameras so well” and as I got closer my second thought was more along the line of “fuck me – he really didn’t use the camera” because I realized that some bastard had clipped his car and pushed it into the pole and didn’t bother to stop or leave a note  – which now circles back as to why I was late locking since I had to then wait on the police to arrive and arrange a tow, etc.

But, determined to not be swayed, I came inside, showered because it was 200 degrees here this week, and locked my dick as fast as I could, just to not be tempted to touch by the life drama. It was somewhat of a fuck you to those chastity gods I mentioned earlier. I was proud of myself but pretty much figured the buzz would be gone for Ax, you know, since his side mirror was on the table, but he arrived home, said something like “Oh. Poor car.  Where is my cage? Upstairs?“(try, just try, being married to a therapist, people – the lack of reaction is sometimes just stunning) and he went off to lock while I, being me, calculated the amount of bonus days I could get if we got his rental through my corporate account versus our insurance account, etc.

(Insert that TiVo fast forward noise here)

Fast forward a few hours and as we went to bed, both safely secured, the moment of the day or the energy of the lack of orgasm started and a cuddle turned into some inappropriate with anyone else (sorta – hi Thumper!) touching, some heavy kissing, and some just absolutely intense making out like we were Baptist teenagers sneaking away from a revival to “do it”. I don’t think we slept more than two hours the whole night because we were just that into each other, that in the moment, that connected that we had not been in years. It was this weird pent up energy, which really had not had any time to be pent up yet, that was just groovy as fuck and lasted all night long. In any other situation, one of us would have suggested jacking off or something similar and it would have been over in three or four hours tops (HA) but without mutual access to each other’s parts, we had a whole new playing field which was fascinated.

This level of “into-ness” actually carried on through much of Thursday through some suggestive texts and, well, daring pictures. It was madness and, even though I sit here terrified of the man with the bad hair, I am also just smiling still because we may be on to something.

Time will tell if the night of, well, errr, passion – which just sounds creepy – was the mutual locking, the fact he is planning what he is going to do to me (I asked him not to give clues) or if it was just the fancy soap I used in the shower, but right now I really don’t care.

Of course, if it was the mutual locking, that will bring all kinds of thoughts in my head, but, needless to say, we might be going back to Canada sooner than expected.


Sitcom Life

Good morning from Gotham. The pic above is my current view as I sit with about 700 of my closest colleagues at an industry conference. It’s crazy how exhausting being nice is, but, well, I am Southern so I just have to be. New York is New York and I love it here, but I have such a sense of uneasiness with the City that I have not had before. It’s mostly because I am in Times Square and there are thousands and thousands of people and, now, thanks to the world, military and police on every corner with just a massive amount of arms and ammunition. I know they have to be there and I do appreciate it, but I have not seen this since spending time in DC the week after 911 so it makes me weary.

I have often said I should write for a TV show because of the weird things that happen to me in life, but when I start thinking about it too much, I wonder sometimes if I am actually in one because of the many stupid things I do that would make a studio audience laugh and clap like mad men even without the “applause” light above my head.

Of course, this trip started in an odd state from the minute I boarded my first flight yesterday morning at 5am. See, about 16 years ago when I was a super seasoned 29 year old national Vice President for the company I worked for then, I had to fire my assistant who was, at the time, just like Jack from Will and Grace. He was a flamboyant man who didn’t really know he was and what he did was absolutely worthy of termination, but he didn’t know it. It was actually the first time I had to do that which probably meant I would have remembered it anyway (little did I know I would lose track of the numbers over the years) but he stood up and with his hand on his hip vowed that he hated me. All was good for 3-4 years and I ran into him at Macy’s one day where he proceeded to make a show that looked like a lover scorned while I stood there, but that was the last I saw of him ten years or more ago. Until yesterday. Apparently he has changed vocations and is now a flight attendent and was the lead one on my flight. Worse, I sat in seat 1C and, if you have ever sat in the seat you will know this, but that seat stares at the FA chair by the door and, since they sit facing the rear, we got to stare at each other the whole time. It was 5:45am and I had never been so awake with one eye never losing contact with him. It was a long two hour flight but nothing was ever said and, since I asked for the can of my Diet Coke, I knew I was fine. 

That sitcom side of life reared it’s head again this morning as I woke up and took a picture of the beautiful view from my window outside to post on Facebook as I often do in the mornings. This one was uploaded and looked beautiful until a friend texted and said “Dude, WTF?” and attached said picture. Right there, riiiiight there, if you looked closely, there, in the picture, was a really tasteful reflection of me, absolutely naked, standing there taking the picture. Fuck. It had about four likes and had not been there long, but watching me try to scramble to get online and get that offline would have been a fun thing for someone to see. Though, now that I think about it, just four likes makes me rather sad. Hmm.

In addition, there are those moments too like last week when Thumper and I were trying to schedule a time to see each other in August. As we went back and forth between “no, I am being fitted for a plug on that day” and “oh, well, no, I have to take water ballet lessons that day” my mind flashed to all those Modern Family episodes where Claire and Phil are trying to make sure Luke gets a ride. It was a funny and stressful and, now that I think about it, I am not sure we finished. (One moment please…) Nope, I checked and we didn’t finish. Thump, the last date was sent to you so, “tag, you are it, my friend”. 

And then, anything with my Mom and Dad is a laugh these days. A sad laugh at times, but, often, it’s just precious like Saturday when they were on a trip and SOMEHOW turned the navigation voice in their car to Mandarin. I just had to laugh because, since the buttons were all in Chinese characters, they didn’t know which one was the “route cancel” and I couldn’t visualize it to tell them, so they drove about 3 hours with a Chinese lady screaming at them until Axel could go there yesterday to fix it. Can you just imagine two old people going too slow in the left lane blazing down the highway in a BMW while a this woman screamed at them?


Finally, changing subject slightly, has anyone watched Billions on Showtime? I just started it and find the way they portray the main character’s kinky marriage fascinating because they have to turn the (female) Dom stuff on and off much like Axel and I try to, but I find myself uncomfortable when she goes into “Mistress Mode” and can’t tell if the acting is just bad or if I am weird because I see her changing roles? I have told you time and time again I get wiggy for a bit when Axel shifts into that spot so I wonder if I am doing that with her too, though, again, it could be that she’s just bad at that part of the character. Anyone?

“Is Thumper Still Bisexual?”

“Is Thumper still bisexual?”

That was the question posed to me yesterday from a reader of this blog who was basically asking why I haven’t written about Thumper (or why he hasn’t written about me) much over the last few months. This guy caught me at a time where I was able to exchange emails back and forth and, for the record, I told him I was going to write this because that is one of the most stupid ways to look at anything ever, yet I am worried that he was actually serious.

So, for those on the edge of your seat, yes, Thumper is still bisexual. Just like the fact that my eyes are still green and I am still prone to sudden sunburns. I assume the guy who was chatting with me is gay so I posed the question back to him about whether he had talked to anyone about his gayness, written any blog posts about it recently, or used it as a way to introduce himself to waiters, cashiers, flight attendants or the like and, you know what, he said no. I asked him whether he was still gay since he had not done any of that and, you know what, he still was. I was enjoying pointing out these facts to him though I am not sure he enjoyed me doing so. Idiot.

But, as I have said many times here, I was never one in the bisexual thought camp until I met Thump because it was just not something that got my mind thinking. However, since I did meet him and, through this blog, have now met many others like him, it’s very clear to me that one can be attracted to both sexes without having to pick a permanent camp on one side of the river. But, for those who are lucky enough to be able to swim across, their lives all seem to be enhanced in some way by this dual desire. Of course, this is not to say that those who can’t swim are unhappy either, but I think knowing that they could if they wanted to is just enough for them to be happy on their riverbank.

The other point I had to make about this is that I was just amused by the fact that a seemingly educated person would or could deduce that a sexuality had changed by the lack of it being discussed. That is so stupid that it’s funny but now has me wondering if I were to write “Thumper is bisexual” over and over again in my notebook how many times would I have to write it before he texted me wanting to come suck my dick? (Thumper, fyi, I do have a new pen AND notebook – just sayin’). Blog writing is not witchcraft.

By the end of our chat I think my new (and now likely short lived) friendship with this guy had been able answer his question, but sheez. Really?

Finally, as I have written this I just realized I don’t know any bisexual men who are in a primary relationship with a man but have a woman on the side. How odd. I do have multiple gay friends who had marriages/relationships with women but changed teams after some years and none of them want to go back to anything intimate with a woman, but, also, none of these guys identify themselves as bisexual now either. That’s just a curiosity of mine, now. Hmmm.


Thank you Mr. Savage

This week, one of Dan Savage’s  Letter of the Day winners struck a particular nerve for me. As you will see, this man is writing in about how his wife has a chronic condition that causes her pain and, as a result, he doesn’t find the pain to be a turn on and their sex life is suffering. He then goes on to say what a generous lover he is and how much of the other tasks of life he has had to take on because of her condition in an attempt, of sorts, to get us on his side, so to speak.

Though he comes off as an awful man in this letter and in many ways he likely is, there is a part of me that does understand where he is coming from and how one small thing, you know, like debilitating pain, can change the sexual attractiveness of one’s partner, from both sides I suspect.

There is a second part to this regarding some old cock sucking pictures of hers which he’s being a complete twat about, so for the sake of this post, we are just going to talk to the first part.

Dan responds lighter to this guy than I would have expected but left it to the commenters to really skewer him. And, as commenters often do, they did.

For the newbies here, my husband, Axel, had a massive surgery five months ago that was a replacement replacement for an infected 3 year old metal on metal hip implant along with the partial replacement of his femur bone and an additional nine 7″ screws directly into his sternum. To do this, they had to make a significant incision through all of the thigh and hip muscles and all of this together left him with a pretty long recovery period, of which he is still in. This letter hit home for me in multiple ways because, I realized that I could be that guy and, I will fully admit, there have been a few times when I have had to get a small level of something akin too resentment in check because whatever has happened to our sex life, and, to be fair, our regular life, because of this is certainly not Axel’s fault.

But, to the letter writer, I get it. Things are different and, like him, I am completely turned off by Axel’s pain – though admittedly no more so than Axel himself is – and the idea of knowing that he is going to be hurting more because I want sex is enough to make me not want it at all. It’s funny, I have gotten used to the fact that he’s going to hurt if we go to dinner or if he’s cooking or if he’s running an errand or _________, and I am getting used to that and no longer try to jump up and shield him because I realize that he has to move and do things and that me trying to save him only sets him back.

With sex, it’s different because it’s like my mind sees that as optional in some ways and the idea that I will make him hurt more or that, God forbid, I hurt him more, just makes the dick go soft right there because, for me, my pleasure is not worth his pain (which is so funny because with Thumper my pleasure IS his pain- right???). Could one say I am less attracted to him now because of that? Maybe, but it’s not that type of non attraction that is anything more than temporary and I liken it to the time in 2000 when we were going on a trip (ironically to the same place we are now) and he showed up at home the day before with platinum blond highlights in his dark hair looking like he had just driven a Camaro with T-tops to Miss Truvy’s Salon and said “make me look trashy”.  THAT went away quickly and I know this one will as well.

That’s just regular sex, but when you add in any type of additional BDSM element, it complicates things more so in my head that really causes more and more pushing and pulling in my brain about whether that fun or that reality is even worth the trouble. It’s a thought I have not really wanted to face and have been easily able to say that work had me busy and I didn’t have to think about it, but now I can’t hide that any more and wonder if we just officially pause any kinky activity so he can focus solely on his recovery though, of course, that is counter balanced by the fact that this might be our new reality and, if so, we just should figure a way to make it work. I think these things have led to me not posting as much because thinking is hard and nothing with this is an easy fix, so why write about it?

BUT, while I did relate to the man in the letter, I am very happy to say I am not that man in the letter but thank Dan for posting it because it certainly was a wake up call, of sorts, to me that I cannot ever allow myself to because him. Axel’s recovery is no where near done but with realistic sights I believe he and I can make it work, though I do have to have the sex talk with him because, I suspect, my fear of making him hurt is translating to him feeling unwanted sexually and I have not really realized that in such a frank way as in the last two minutes I have been typing this. For that, I will do better for sure.

One more thing though, to the man in the letter, I also realize that my husband’s issue can and will get better and that doesn’t seem to be the case for you, so that makes me feel your pain even more and makes me understand why you would write what you wrote. That said, I do hope you get some professional help for you, as this is going to be a long road ahead.

So, no real revelation here aside from yet again being thankful to Mr. Savage for showing me there are always people in the world far more fucked up than me.