Today is my last day working from home and, to make matters worse, I am embarking on a 12 day trip that will, most likely kill me or keep me detained in Canada since we have no idea what immigration will be like in a week when I return. That said, the time home has been really nice and I have gotten a ton done for work, for life, and for me at the gym.
One of the things I finally got done was coming face to face with the “friend” who I accidentally spilled my chastity guts to a few months ago and who I have not been able to see since. I didn’t write about this for some reason, but this friend who I would honestly call more of an acquaintance than anything else is a guy I used to see at parties and around town for certain social things. We have never been close but we had a very good mutual friend who kept us informed of each other and that way fine with both of us. Last year, that friend moved overseas so this fella started texting me every now and then and, since he is a bit of a perv, would include random shots of naked guys, you know, just cause he apparently didn’t think I got to see any in real life or didn’t know how to access the Tumblr. He’d even ask the type men I liked so they could be tailored to me. Sweet, right?
But, one night last fall, he sent me several pictures of guys locked in various chastity devices. I could tell he didn’t know anything about them because the ones he sent were the worst of devices and not really good porn worthy, but when he sent them, he included a note that said “Is one of these what Axel locks you up in when you travel??” Now, had I thought about that, I would have come back and said something witty laughing off the situation or accusing him of being turned on by them or made some sort of reference to his mother (which would have been odd and horrible since he is almost 60 and she is long dead – but the 13 year old mind never turns off). But, I didn’t. I didn’t even come back with, what would have been good, of “please, he only locks me in custom devices” or something snotty that would fit this guy, but, no. No, I did not.
What I did do was come back with with something akin to “OMG, who told you? Did he send pics? What the hell? I demand to know how you know?” You know, the epitome of smoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooth.
Now, did I mention that this fellow is known to be a very dramatic gossipy queen? I didn’t? Well, it’s relative here because I panicked. My utter lack of suave was going to catch up to me because somehow, I had even made words in a text have a guilty tone. It was bad until he came back with “you know, we all have our kinks and this stays between us – but I do want to go to lunch one day and hear about it and the hows and whys.” I breathed a bit after that and, while I have to admit I still did not fully trust him, I had no other choice.
The next day he texted again and sent me more pictures of naked men in and out of chastity, chains, and other sparkly accessories and that pattern has kept up since. While I can’t really explain why he does that, and apparently he does it with other friends too, I generally just say “wow” or “thanks” and go on about my day with the satisfaction of knowing that I have reached a stage in life where I have a, albeit accidental, Porn Concierge. I have to really laugh though because on at least three occasions he has sent me pictures of me and twice he has sent me pics of Thumper! I always make sure to bold the “wow” and “super hot” comments back to him on those.
But, work got crazy, the holidays got nuts, and all was going well until last week when he said “when do you travel again?” and I told the truth which was met with a “Good, lunch on Friday, pick you up at your house at 11:30″.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me” was all that was going through my mind, BUT, it had been that long and he had, for what I know, kept his confidentiality agreement, so I went along and, well, it was nice. We went for Mexican (and fyi, I can sooooo be woo’ed with Mexican) and started talking about perceptions of the gay community, life, love and it was a very masculine lunch until he waved his hands all flauntidly and pointed toward my crotch and said “okay honey, let’s talk about what is going on down there”. I apparently blushed like a schoolgirl which signaled I was indeed locked and he asked questions. I answered in the most truthful, vague way I could. We talked about how it helped my sex life. We talked about how Axel felt empowered. We talked about whether it itches or hurts when you get hard. We talked about everything around what it has meant to me, how it started with Thumper, or how I write these posts rather infrequently now. I didn’t feel like he deserved to be “on the inside” and I stopped myself short of spilling the whole truth. I know in some ways that is not right, but the trust level is far too important to me to give out this information to someone who can put a real name and face with everything I write, which is funny because some of you have all of that and we have never met. But my gut told me to stop and I did as he still has some proving to do to get into the inner circle. Maybe one day he will get there, but not yet.
But, I survived lunch and had a good time and, since then, I have gotten some lovely porn tailored to me. It’s not the end of the world having a porn concierge after all.