Texting Jumbles

I’m in a good mood today. Not really sure why, but I am. I have a very slow week work wise and, while I am in a Northeastern city known for the kind of love I like, you know, brotherly, I am not stressing about anything particular at the moment and have enjoyed the day just doing weird little clean up tasks and sending flirtatious texts to friends, and salacious texts to Axel and Thumper, a important texts to colleagues. It’s a jumble I have to pay close attention too because one “what’s in your ass today?” question to the wrong person and I will be an embarrassed boy. Also, likely an unemployed boy too.

Speaking of the Ax, he and I are finally back into a clicking along kind of pattern where we are working together toward sexual goals versus separately. For us it’s so tough between the weird schedules and his recovery, which is still only at about 65%, that we sometimes forget that we are in this kinky quest together above all things and when that gets out of balance everything else is wobbly too. That said, I know this is far from unusual with almost any other couple, except maybe those creepy ones who never leave each other’s sides, but for those that this applies to as well, you know exactly what I mean.

Last night Axel and I had a bit of fun, on – a -Monday of all days, but, while it did result in me pretty much covered with ejaculate, it really wasn’t all that sexual as much as it was just an hour or two of lying in the floor (I had vacuumed earlier so it was okay) and looking at each other all googledly and just talking about my dick, then his dick, then the sound of what we think may be a squirrel in the attic again, and more about my dick, my ass, and how we probably need a new vacuum because it really sucked. It’s one of those moments that probably would look boring to most (well, except for me laying in the floor naked with a shiny metal cock, you know, and him lying there naked wondering if he will ever be able to get up again) but for us, it was needed and, I think, is what has contributed to my happy outlook on life today.

He packed some jocks in my bag for some pictures tonight, so if my arm is twisted I might post them. Additionally, he packed the Steelheart in my bag versus the Axel. It’s odd because he knows how uncomfortable I am in that, but suspect that might have been his plan all along.

We shall see.


Happy weekend. I am in the middle of a five day home stand, with only one night out for a two hour meeting next week and then home again for five more nights, so I am starting to breathe again. I’m recovering from the first three days of this week where I had 37 performance meetings with 37 relative strangers where I broke a few hearts, made a few happy, and have no doubt that somewhere in the midwest, two or three little sweater clad women are furiously knitting Drew voodoo dolls at this exact moment (I do hope they add a harness and metal genitals).

But, there’s nothing like home and, for me, the locked dick to prove it.

Over the last few months I have talked about how I am now, with relative ease, telling people in my life about this blog and the people I write about. However, it hit me this morning that I have lost track of the exact number of friends who now know and I am a bit bothered by why that doesn’t bother me. I mean, I am the uptight one always worried that people are going to know my secrets or judge me for things and, here I am, out there telling the world private things all willy nilly. It’s kinda cool, huh?

That said, it’s about only six people and three of them knew about Thumper before the blog and two or three know about the chastity and not the blog, so in reality I am almost back to only one or two knowing everything. That’s fine with me too because that means there is still room to do more. Maybe.

In many ways this post was just a post to post, but as things settle I am hoping I won’t and we can get back to some serious fun with me and a boy, or three.

Chastity Pants

We interrupt this blog for a commercial break..

Pants made for the locked male. Who’d have thunk it?

Apparently, one company did, whether they planned it or not.

For me and as much as I travel, I am constantly on the search for clothing that is comfortable yet, at a minimum, casual Friday-ish enough that if I ran into a client on a plane I would not feel like a tourist or a college guy. Also, I hate to fly in work clothes so I need something easy when I am changing in the handicapped stall at the rental car station before taking a night flight to wherever.

I found these pants at Lululemon, a store that I thought was only for ladies until I went inside and discovered lots of made for active men clothing that stays fresh all day and is amazingly comfortable. This led to my discovery of the line of ABC pants, which stands for “anti ball crushing” pants and, I have to tell you, just for regular life these things are amazing, but for someone who is sporting some plastic or steel, they are incredible. These pants have a bit of a spandex feel, though they look like khakis, and that bit o’dex seems to be directly in the crotch area. When wearing the Steelheart, I look like I have a nice, full package while also feeling like I have a nice jockstrap holding aid package. The device itself is undetectable in those. When wearing the Axel, the same applies except for the fact that this device has the locking ball on the end and that tends to stick out just a bit, though you would have to really be looking to see it. Oh, and they have hidden pockets everywhere and my ass looks great in them.

Finally, they dry fast. So fast, that I have actually washed a pair in the shower with me during and extended trip and they were ready to wear after just a few hours of hanging. I point this out because, as you know, when you are locked and/or pierced, one tiny slip and you are left with a wet crotch, but these dry almost immediately and could also be referred to as dignity saving pants at that.

They are not cheap at $128 a pair, BUT, they will be something you will wear as often as possible and are highly worth the price (says the man who now has four pair). There are stores everywhere and the sizing is off to the point I had to go down to s 34 from my regular 36, so I would suggest trying a pair in person before buying online.

P.S. – This company also has a line of underwear called “Lock ’em down” and, while they mean support, I love the dual meaning.

When Ferns, Fever and Thumper talk…

Thumper, Ferns, and Mrs. Fever all commented on my post last night and all three had delightful perspectives on the incident that left me feeling dark and stormy when my connection with a Dom didn’t connect the way I wanted it to.

Ferns added:

“I’m thinking about ‘prey‘ for whom my style didn’t work. It’s not that he’s ‘not submissive’ or that I’m ‘not dominant’, and it’s no-one’s fault, it’s just that our styles didn’t match up.”

With that point, she quite literally nailed it in a way that I had vaguely thought of, but had not applied directly because, I think, I wanted a pity moment in my head or something similar. But, while I did worry about what it meant for me as a sub or in terms of future play partners, the 48 hour perspective was that I just felt bad for not being the guy the Dom wanted me to be and for not following through on a commitment I had, at least in my head, made to him about being the naked ass in the air sub he had requested.

The second point to Fern’s first point is that I so appreciate her telling me how she feels with the styles don’t match up and through our personal conversations and through the magic of Twitter, I have witnessed these times first hand with her once, twice or eleven times. Of course, while she is all nonchalant about it, every single time I get angry with her  prey for not matching her and then feel sorry for him, because she is where it is at in Australia and the foolish men who live there who are not chasing her are just plain stupid.

However, it was her second point that nailed me to a tee.

Ferns also noted:

“I’m going to go out on a bit of a limb and suggest that maybe *casual* submission is not going to work for you: you’re a sensitive introspective boy and I wonder if you might need a little more than ‘someone doing some things to you to make it work.”

Again, from the 48 hour perspective I now have, she is 100 percent and absolutely right about this. I know myself better and the shear fact that I have never once in my life had a one night stand tells me that I do have to have a deep connection. With this man, I allowed  a year or more of email to substitute that connection in my head, but looking back, our emails were never more than a few sentences and he never told me much about his life nor asked about mine.

As a for instance, with Thumper, I remember way back that I found him more and more attractive to me as prey when I found out what his son’s career path was/is or what Belle’s father does for a living. Those are stupidly random things and completely just exaggerated as an example, but the more I knew, the more he was real and, in exchange, that allowed me to enjoy temporarily taking him out of those comfortable places that I knew about when he would be liking the way I hurt him.

With alco, the potential playdate, our first email exchanges were pages which moved to texts and then to long Facetime chats. The connection to him as a person, a friend, and as a potential sub was instant and, because I know what his husband’s name is and how he likes his steel, I know that I will enjoy taking his freedom away from him when I tie him up and leave him in the closet one day for hours.

Now, Mrs. Fever said:

“Being a Switch is not the same as being a part-time submissive. We are all different and certain things work/don’t-work, etc blah-blah-blah…

But when I play and someone/something triggers my Switch, it is not scene-based where I have to “be” submissive. FUCK THAT NOISE.

It’s organic, the power flows back and forth intensely from moment to moment. It is allowing him to push to the back of my throat one minute and taking his feet out from under him to straddle his face the next. It is shackling his wrists with the force of my grip and my weight then going soft and pliant when he wrestles me under him.

It is a constant flow, one that – when the partner and the chemistry are right – makes me feel both achy and satisfied. I AM NEVER *NOT* DOMINANT. But sometimes I Switch.”

She, like usual, nailed it too. Even though I was past it, and really think I was, when I read this last night it made me smile in that giant way because she’s right and I loved the line she put about how she is “never not dominant, but sometimes she switches”. That says everything and I think I may steal that for my recon profile headline.

After that, she describes shackling wrists with force and straddling his face and, that, that right there is one of those moments when I wish I was bisexual because, Uuuuuuummmph. In fact, this morning I think I heard Thumper’s cage clank all the way from where I was when he read that because, well, Uuummpph.

Thank you, Mrs. Fever. As always.

Finally, Thumper added his two cents and, when I read them at 35,000 feet this morning, they made me think, laugh, and smile all at the same time.

Thump stated:

“I don’t know if you’re switch. I know for a fact you’re not a sub. I’m not saying that means you can’t act as one if you let yourself and you’re in the right spot with the right person, but a sub you are not. As a sub who’s received your domination, I can say that with some authority.”

I don’t really have much to say about this directly, but I liked the last line and thought it should be seen again. Ha. Seriously, the right spot with the right person thing is exactly what all of this has been about and, in fact, I was just with the wrong person.

Following this he elaborated a bit about my intended sarcastic remark about being glad I wasn’t a switch bisexual because of the amount of choices I would have to make, and, I have an idea for a response to that which would be it’s own post, so I am not going to go into that at the moment.

However, in a second response, he stated an idea, or thought, that on the surface sounded incredible but likely nothing that would ever happen with me, though I am not opposed.

He said:

“So, imagine that night going differently. You and he sit around in a bar and get all worked up talking about what being a Dom means to you and how wonderful it is to top a willing sub and the experiences you’ve had, etc. Then, you go back to his room and just roll around and have sex. Sometimes he’s on top (literally and figuratively) and sometimes you are and it’s fun and sexy and all the boners are there. I think that could have worked for you. You play the boy for a few minute then you push back and he does”.

My mind tells me this wouldn’t work because the guy is someone whose grandmother’s maiden name was something I had yet to learn, but, when I read it again, he wasn’t specific that this was a stranger, so I think he is right with this (anyone want to volunteer to help me try?), but, this is pretty much how Ax and I have sex as well (except for that conversation part, you know)

So, to the three of them and the others who commented who I don’t know so well yet, thank you. Perspective is everything and you helped immensely but, again, Thumper said it best when he said:

* Also, man are you lucky to have two of the most incredible, insightful, and fucking sexy as hell dominent women to advise you like this.


Submission Rejection

This is one of the hardest posts I have written in awhile because, in some ways, I am mad at myself and, in others, I am just flat confused. However, neither is a feeling that is any more than fleeting and I am already over the events of which I shall speak.

To go backwards a bit, about a year ago I met a man who wanted to dominate me. He is a dreamy white collar professional guy in his 50’s who has a penchant for slave training. He and I had dinner twice and coffee once many months ago where we discussed the potential of me submitting to him. I thought it a serious enough offer than I involved Axel who exchanged multiple emails with this man until he was comfortable and then permission was granted. Typical of my life, the day the permission was granted was also the day my project in his city ended and then he took a new job where his travel was just as much as mine, so it wasn’t meant to be and we stayed in touch, but that was that.

That was that until that became last night. Tuesday.

He and I, through a very random email, discovered that we were in the same city for the same night and I happened to not have any plans or work that had to be done. So, a phone call to Axel, a long deep cleaning shower, and a pair of fancy underpants later, I got into my rented Chrysler and drove myself to an evening of submission and service. During the drive I was excited but not thrilled which I chalked up to nervousness, but in hindsight I think there was a tad of apathy in there as well.

I arrived, went to his room, saw him and smiled hard because I do like the man and he is quite attractive. As instructed I stripped and he proceeded to collar and cuff me and then put me into a sort of hogtie saying that I should stay right there for thirty minutes or so. The feeling was nice and I found it relaxing in a sense, but it did not turn me on. While down there, I started thinking about Thumper when he is in a similar state and he is moaning and he is rocking and he is doing anything he can to grind his metal penis into the carpet just to increase the happy feeling he is feeling in that moment. I thought about alco and the plans I have to tie him in exactly the same way. Then I started thinking about tying Thumper and alco together, metal dick to metal dick and collar locked to collar or mounting both of them to a double dildo while I caused them each pain. I loved those thoughts and I was getting visibly excited, which tricked my dominant friend into thinking it was for him and, honestly, that allowed myself to think that way too.

So, after about twenty minutes, he said “let’s test your endurance” and tied me into a squatting position that put full weight on my thighs. Luckily I have thunder-ish thighs and that didn’t really bother me, so again, my mind started to wander; however, this time, I started thinking about pizza, the chips from Chipotle I wanted, what Ferns would say at that exact moment (fyi – it was a snarky reference to his less than stellar rope abilities as well as something about champagne), and how pissed I am that my new iPhone is backordered and when my penis could not deflate any further, I just told him that this wasn’t working.

He undid me and asked me to lay down on the floor with him (there was a big sheet out for your germaphobes) and we talked for about ten minutes about it and how everyone is different and how things are going to be different in your mind versus reality, etc, etc, etc. He was shockingly good at that and, though mad at myself for not being all super sexual, I found myself falling into a boy mode where I felt very safe and protected and, as this was going on, he raised up and was rubbing my legs and back and it felt nice and I felt “boyish”. Though, hearing that voice in my head that told me that the boy should be rubbing and not the Sir, I eased him down on his stomach and I hoisted myself up over his legs (he was clothed, btw) and I then helped him take off his shirt so that I could do the massaging. I was going to be the best sub in the world to him at that moment, god dammit, I was going to prove my head wrong. However, the minute I got on top of him I felt the boyish part begin to slip and from that vantage point I could spot a bottle of lube and a box of condoms in the bathroom and that was it. Boy Drew went away right then and there and he was not coming back (nor has he made an appearance since)

I stood up, apologized, got dressed, and being the polite Southerner I am, made small talk about his business, the lovely shade of brown his room was painted, and whether he should order the iPhone regular or plus, and then I bolted.

I bolted to Chipotle for chips and sat there mad at both myself for leading this man on and at the stupid woman in front of me who thought it would be fun to mix all the soft drinks like she was seven years old. I  felt like I had teased him, though I knew he didn’t feel that way. I felt like I had teased everyone I had ever talked to about wanting to submit, because, fuck, they were right, I may not actually be a switch. I was mad at me for being attracted to incredibly submissive thoughts in my head, but not even amused by them in reality. I was just pissed at everything then, and especially that stupid woman because I realized how stupid she looked too.

I texted Axel to say I was done and that it didn’t go well and, for fucks sake, he wanted to go into therapy mode versus just skipping to the end and telling me I was right (again folks, do not marry a therapist if you don’t want to talk a lot about feelings and junk). So, after enduring that, he said, “duh, it’s cute you still think you can turn off your dom side”. 

Well, that wouldn’t do and I really wanted to to talk to my shaman o’kink, Thumper, so I texted him to call me at the exact moment I realized it was his family time and not a typical time we could chat freely about naked body parts. So I texted a “never mind” or something vague. He texted back and I gave him just a wee snippet of the story (because he and I don’t talk about my sub side and, for that reason alone, I didn’t tell him what I was doing in advance) and he came back with something like “it’s stupid to be mad at yourself. Lets talk tomorrow. Oh, and, fyi, YOU ARE NOT A SUB” or something snappy like that, so I ate my chips and went about the night.

By the time I reached my room, I wasn’t mad at me anymore and I received an email from dom dude saying thanks for coming over, I am looking good, and that I have nothing to feel badly about. So, that helped me some too and I began the introspective talk with myself about how it’s okay to just be one thing if that’s how it goes.

The cool thing about this though is that this has nothing to do with the fact Axel likes me to wear a cage and that I will willingly do it. In fact, I may even do it more now as I accept and grow into whatever category I will fit in eventually. I know I still want to experience submissive elements and that is perfectly fine to do but I am also learning that it’s okay not to have emotion with them and, just because I may want the peacefulness of bondage one day, or have a shiny dick, that that does not label me one thing specifically.

There will be more thoughts as the next few days go by, but after reading some of Denying Thumper earlier today, I realized how thankful I am that I am not bisexual too. I don’t think there are enough chips out there for those competing feelings in my head.

Comfortable Boys

Remember me? It’s been over two weeks since I have written a post and I am ashamed, but just have not had much time. In those two weeks, I have been in 13 cities, went to a State Fair with Thumper, drove a bright red Camaro across the northern tundra, and am now sitting in the SkyClub waiting to catch a flight home where I had secluded myself in the corner but went to get a drink and came back and my spot of solitude has been invaded by nine Japanese men who are talking at the speed of light and annoying me with every second syllable.

Anyway, I have started about 17 posts and never could get past the first paragraph for some reason. Nothing is wrong. It’s just been timing and life. See, about two weeks ago I realized I was comfortable. Axel and I were in this spot where we would be kinky on Tuesday, seriously vanilla on Wednesday, and a weird mix on Thursday. And just weird on Friday. It was a very comfortable routine and we were settling well; however, six months ago, even at the height of his recovery, we were naked much more and touching here and there with abandon and I have not been able to get that out of my mind.

On the Thumper side, while we never “dated” per se, if we had of called it that, we would now be at that old married couple place because our times together now have included going to the car wash, buying groceries at Target, and a trip to the fair. Now, do NOT get me wrong, I had a really nice time in doing all those things (the car wash he goes to is really cool and smells nice) but how far have we come from the fact that a year ago we could hardly get in the hotel room without my dick being somewhere inside of him? Again, I am not complaining, but it’s comfortable and comfortable is nice.

Professionally, I have never had a year as good as this one. I have had some early successes and I am now working through them. However, I am doing the same things every other week and for someone in my job I am comfortable.

The only issue I have with all of this is that, in the last few days, it’s hit me that I don’t want to be comfortable. I am too young, too inexperienced, and too curious to be comfortable at this point and so I thought I would changed that and have done some new things that I have not shared.

Big new, folks, apparently I am a daddy. Should I have sent announcements?

It’s not nearly as slutty as I want to be (yet) but a few weeks ago I met a boy I called train, who I now call alco. He is married to a man who is vanilla, but through a mutual agreement, he is locked in a Steelheart every day because they have decided it’s good for him. For them, it’s not so much about denial and the “science” behind it and more so about the fact that he just gets through life better when he doesn’t have to worry about being distracted by his or his husband’s touch, so he stays locked. Now, they are not sexually open but he also loves to be tied up and told what to do and his husband allows those things with guys he trusts. So, I am enjoying being all demanding and junk and cannot wait to meet him in person so I can do all those mean things to him that I like to do to naked men in my presence.

Add to that the fact that this week I met a second boy who, if I ever were to be a daddy, would be exactly what I am looking for. He is in his mid twenties, married to his Sir who is also in his mid twenties, and he is looking for a dad type to just help him realize a few fantasies and who would be willing to keep him tied up in a hotel room closet, you know, just because. His Sir is very happy with this and encouraging, so Monday night we were in the same city and we went for drinks late night and really clicked in a nice way and, in fact, in such a way that I felt my Daddy side wanting to reach for a collar. We walked the city a bit and went back to my hotel room to talk a bit and one thing led to another thing and, in the absence of any gear, he soon found himself hogtied with a collection of my neck ties and our leather belts, fully clothed. There was no play, just some hugging and deep holding and, when we are done and it was getting late, I actually found myself picking the bound boy up and lifting him in the air. He’s 170 pounds so how I did it was beyond me (and my leg still feels it) but fuck, I had visions of all kinds of sexual acrobatics at that point and, with the permission of his Sir, I think we will explore those in the future.

Now, add to this my friend N who I briefly mentioned in passing, with no name, a few weeks back. He and I have been loose friends for years, but a few weeks back we found ourselves in  weird conversation about water sports of all things and that led to a whole bunch of verbal confessions to each other about our kinks and desires. I.Told.Him.Everything. And, I was not embarrassed in the slightest. I am not sure he and I will every do anything and, if we did, Axel would likely be involved, BUT, I can envision those thoughts and am welcoming every one of them that I have. I am not saying no to the idea AT ALL and next weekend he and I are going to go to lunch to finish the discussion because, if he and I did play, I would be the one hogtied on the floor and that’s absolutely fine with me as well.

I have to run get to my flight soon so I will save the boy in Michigan for another time, but, with Axel, any time I even think about a kinky boy I want him more (we have discussed that before) so I am thinking tonight when I get home I will come into the house naked (and locked) just to see the look on his face (and Stella’s). Of course, my garage is not attached to the house so that can be fun all in itself.

So, who knows what will come of any of this (except I suspect Axel might), but I am not allowing myself to be comfortable right now and hope you guys will go on whatever journey I wind up on over the next few months.