By Thumper and originally published on The Submissive Rabbit

Avid followers of this rabbit’s travails will recall with some interest my past shenanigans with Drew. For those who aren’t and don’t, the short story is he’s a world traveling executive who lives in another city than me and who has, from time to time over the years, dominated me. Drew is a sadistic top and I’m a pain slut bottom and we clicked.

Things started out well but as time went on our friendship grew to such an extent that Drew, who identifies as switch and subs to his husband, shared those non-Dom parts of his life with me. Not just the family and work stuff that everyone has and needs friends to tell. Talking about chastity and bottoming and all the stuff associated with being a sub. And, for me, shifting between Dom Drew and sub Drew was hard. Too hard. I found I couldn’t take a Dom seriously who wanted to show me his new chastity device and tell me about the growing confidence of his newly dominant husband. So as Drew found new kinky friends and outlets for his interests and spent more and more time out of the country, things just…drifted off.

Recently, though, we’ve rekindled our dynamic. I call it a dynamic as a punt. It’s a relationship, of a sort, but not one built on romantic love. It’s built almost entirely on power exchange. On him having it and me not. It’s built on the alchemy of how pain can be transformed to pleasure, for both the person inflicting it and the person enduring it. It’s built on his willingness to help me explore my desires to bottom and push myself in that area. And, like any relationship, it’s built on mutual respect.

So, it’s back on. And he’s not going to show me the other side of his swtichiness. Just the Dom aspects. And I’m intentionally not looking for information about that part of him on his blog or elsewhere. Perhaps it’s a sign of my shallowness, but I need him to be Dom Drew and only Dom Drew. And it appears to be working for both of us.

For example. The primary way Drew expresses his domination over me is by telling me what to put in ass and when. That’s usually one of the three metal butt plugs I have, though there are other things, too. For the past three days, I’ve had the largest of these plugs (8″ in circumference) in my ass for hours and hours at a time. Something like 14 hours on Thursday and about 13 hours yesterday. It’s inside me again today and, except for an 11 day trip Belle and I are about to go on, I’m sure it’d be in there into next week.

In consideration of his being unable to direct what my ass does during the time I’m traveling, he’s imposed a cost. I will owe him two hours of plug carrying for every day I’m empty. In addition, he’s requiring 20 minutes of my nipples being banded by elastrators for each of those non-carry days. This will mean a minimum of 22 hours plugged and nearly four hours banded, though he’s willing to break that up over two or three days. So considerate.

So, if you been following along on Twitter and wondering WTF was up with all this Drew talk again, that’s the score.

Drew sent me a text yesterday telling me to go in the bathroom and take off my underwear and go commando the rest of the day and he wanted proof that it happened. I was in a meeting at the time and couldn’t do it right away, but when I had the opportunity, I went into the large stall in the bathroom (the one a construction worker looked down into that one time and saw me in the Halfshell) and made him a video of me taking off my shoes and pants, stripping my underwear off (an old jock strap) and puting everything but the underwear back on, hoping the whole time nobody came in and caught a glimpse through the crack in the door of the odd behavior. The jock went into my pocket and then my computer bag. In fact, it’s still there.

I sent the video and he told me that for the rest of the week, unless I was carrying a plug in my ass I had to go without underwear. And if I had a plug in, the underwear had to be skimpy. This is a bit of challenge since I’m in the Steelheart this week and it’s heavier than the other devices I wear and it’s not comfortable to wear commando. The only option, of course, was to put in a plug. The XXL WMCBP is what I chose.

Issue is, for me, that the thong I’m wearing pushes the plug all the way in all the time, especially when I’m walking around. It feels exactly like someone’s following me and holding it in as far as it’ll go with their fingers. I mentioned this to Drew who thought that sounded awesome so, since I had to come home to deal with a carpet install, he told me to take the opportunity to replace the XXL with the XXXL plug. So…I have that to look forward to. I’ll do it after the carpet guy leaves.

After the jump, I’ve included the image I sent to Drew this morning as proof I was plugged and wearing the type of underwear he specified.

(more…)

Hey, it’s Thumper again. [waves]

As I’m writing this, I have the XXXL Mr. S World’s Most Comfortable Butt Plug inside me. That’s almost two pounds and 8″ in circumference and it’s been there for seven hours and will remain there for at least three more today. And, since I’m writing about it here and not on my blog, you may have guessed it’s inside there at Drew’s direction. Not that I wouldn’t want to carry it around anyway, but we’ve settled into an understanding where Drew tells me what do to with my ass (what’s in it, how long, etc.) and, as sub, being in that kind of situation is so much much more rewarding than doing something only for myself.

For example, a little while back, Drew and I spent part of a morning on FaceTime where I was naked and he wasn’t and he told me what he wanted to see put up my ass and I did it. I, of course, enjoy putting things in my ass, but I had never done it so explicitly at the direction of another. And that totally changed the texture of the experience. It was another expression of submission. Being pushed to used certain toys for lengths of time not of my choosing. To fuck myself with it for more strokes than I would had it been up to me. To sit as far down on the largest toys, trying to get them a centimeter further in, and then leaving them there until he was satisfied I was as full and open as possible. Feeling discomfort and a need to stop but fighting that because my ass’ Dom was calling the shots, not me.

I’ve written here before about the effect Drew has had on that part of my sexuality. It’s satisfying to have found a way to explore and develop in a way that wouldn’t be possible with Belle (based simply on her differing interests). Knowing that I’m not just a sub, but a sub bottom. And working with Drew to make me a better, more accomplished bottom. As I said last time, all this will eventually culminate in Drew fisting me.

Right now, today, it seems inevitable. I feel as though being a bottom and having a Dom top’s forearm inside me is what I was born to do. Well, one of the things. But totally natural. It’s what I am. Something I was made for. When I’m really buzzing with subby bottomness, I crave it like little else. I will not be happy until it happens.

Recently, I decided it was time to upgrade my selection of dildos. Most of the ones I have are years old (one at least 20 years old, if you can believe it). My favorite, the Jeff Stryker dildo, is definitely fully depreciated. In any event, as I was shopping, I found a series of toys described by Fort Troff as “monsters.” The smallest, which I ordered, is 8″ long and 8.5″ in diameter. That’s a half inch bigger around than the XXXL WMCBP, but smaller than other things I’ve been able to take. So, no problem.

It was kind of surreal looking at the next one up (10″ in circumference) and think, “Yeah, I could do that.” And then the biggest (12.5″ around) and thinking if Drew told me to…eventually. Then imagining him watching as it slid slowly into me, pushing it’s massive head deeper into my hole, forcing his will up my ass as far as it would fit. Then sitting there, waiting until he told me I could move, feeling myself stretch and open. And how he’d probably tell me to let it all out except the head, then push it all back in again. And wait. And then repeat until I was so open and loose that he could tell me to fuck myself with it as fast as possible until he told me to stop. A giant, fat pole of cock-shaped rubber pounding into me, past the point I’d want it to, just waiting for his word.

Unf. I mean, seriously. Though I’ve never had a dildo that large inside me, even that seems inevitable now.

Working and training my hole with Drew has been amazing. Seeing myself progress and overcome what I once thought were barriers and knowing that it’s just a matter of time before his big, meaty fist punches through the last one. Feeling that both ends of my sexuality are controlled. Knowing that he’s not really interested in the penis one bit. The focus of his intent is my hole. And it enjoys the attention.

I just got home after spending a day and a half with Thumper that, in several ways, might go down as one of my favorite visits for reasons I never had even considered. However, before we get to that point, I thought I would say happy anniversary to the blog because one year ago today I met Thumper for the first time physically (and, by that, I mean phy-si-cal-ly) which led to my guest star role on Denying Thumper that led to this blog.

<insert anniversary horn sound here in your mind>

So, for those who follow both of us, I think you know something is amiss in the land of Thumper. He hasn’t felt like himself in a while and, as you also know, he is taking steps to fix that and to understand what’s driving those feelings. During this time, he’s not writing as much, tweeting as much, and the “I wish you’d come fuck me” texts have virtually dried up, but he is okay and is still excelling at life just as he always has. He’s working out more too, and from across the table at a Chinese restaurant the night before last, I watched his growing pecs stretch and flex and that turned me on to no end, cause the hot man is even hotter and even more DILFier than he was a year ago. But, that is another story for another day, as this one is about some of the basics as to why I liked this visit, even though we did not see each other naked even once.

Going into this visit I told you that I had no expectations of anything sexual and I truly did not. I am not going to lie and tell you it was not on my mind, and, if he had walked into my swanky hotel room all swanky himself and ready to rumble, I would have had my penis in my hand in seconds and would have been ready to go to town, but, he did not walk in like that at all. He walked in with a look on his face like someone had just stolen his kitten. He was happy to see me, his friend, or even his boyfriend (and I knew that even though with that steel cock he always looks happy to see everything) but I could tell in five seconds that he was nervous as fuck about seeing me, his sexual partner and sometimes tormentor, because he wasn’t in a place for that and he so did not want to disappoint me and I, in turn, was nervous as fuck thinking he was thinking that. In addition to that, he felt guilty that I had come there “for nothing” which was ALMOST as stupid as Ben Carson because I came there for him, not his ass but for him, my friend, my boyfriend even, because in the last month or two we have both gone through a lot of shit individually and, sex or no sex, I just wanted to see him and spend some time in the non virtual world which I think is called real life.

Now, in all honesty, he was not in the “sex with men is repulsive” place he had been in last summer and with a drink, a tickle, and a slap or two I likely could have gotten a blow job, but, while it was nice to think about, my promise to always hurt him but never harm him meant too much to me to even try.

Over the next evening and day, we drank fruity shake like things, ate a lot of Asian food, shopped for sex toys for our spouses and then shopped for pants for ourselves (he got some jeans that make his ass even more dreamy and I got a new pair of plain plane pants) and, just like always, he made me feel like I had just crawled out of a twenty year sleep inside a bunker in Indiana with his wiz bang use of technology and fancy acronyms that I suspect he had just made up right at that exact moment.

We were normal and we had fun and we did not have to be naked to do that.

Of course we talked about “things” but 90 percent of those “things” are not mine to share, so I won’t, though one particular conversation led us to talk about both of the blogs and the comments we have received. During that, it was pretty clear that we have each internalized a lot of the negativity of a few far more than I think either had realized and that struck something in me that I will be sharing in the next post after I figure out how I want to actually say it.

I said earlier that in some ways this was one of my favorite visits and that remains true even though neither of us had that spring in our steps we did a year ago when we were “stupid in horny”. I say that because, sex or not, this time proved unequivocally that in a relationship as unique as ours, friendship trumps sex every single time. I can get sex anywhere (in theory of course), but a boy-friend in the true sense of the word, is much harder to find and I am happy to stick with the one I have regardless of whether I leave him battered and non-sated or not.

Finally, and probably the most important part of the post as it solves an eight year mystery, we stopped by his house to get his wallet he had “forgotten” (his attempted way of trying to make me pay for lunch and the three dollar valet tip) and, through the giant window in the front of his house (which must be a bitch to keep clean), right there, right there in front of me, I got to see with my own eyes, the often rumored but never before verified, Belle Fille and, get this, despite popular rumors, she was not surrounded by a fog of hurt, pain, or even betrayal. There wasn’t even a mist of sorrow surrounding her.

Thank goodness, all those prayers must have really worked!

Belle is real!


FYI – Fifteen things for the commenters to save some time:

  1. We did not “break up”, agree to “go steady” or any of that nonsense.
  2. We plan to have even more deprived dirty sex in the future.
  3. When together, we are not cheating on anything but our diets.
  4. Belle did not see me.
  5. Yes, I think Ben Carson really is fucking stupid.
  6. Nobody really stole Thumper’s kitten.
  7. Our not having sex had nothing to do with prayer.
  8.  My usage of the wording “phy-si-cal-ly” means we fucked.
  9. Thumper is still bisexual.
  10. He really did forget his wallet and he owes me the $3.
  11. Yes, I think he was actually happy I came to visit.
  12. Axel and Belle were not harmed in the making of this visit.
  13. In truth, we did touch five times when he punched me in Nordstrom’s.
  14. Again, we did not break up. We are not in high school.
  15. I still both like and plan to hurt him again.

Lately I have been thinking about fanboys, kinkiness, and new friendships and how, for me, almost all of those things have blended together in the year or so since I met Thumper as the Drew today is far different, at least on the inside, than the Drew you would have met last September. Obviously, meeting Thump and starting our boyfriend status was the initial game changer, but the things that have followed that naked meeting have also been fairly significant. For one, this blog.

While not an especially kinky blog, or one that dives as deep into my sexuality and fantasies as I could, I have found a new level of kinky confidence that I never knew was even possible, nor one that I thought would ever mix in with my weird, often public, professional life. But, here we are and all is going well so far.

Regarding the fanboys, I have to laugh because I have admitted to having been one of Thumper’s for many years prior to meeting him and sometimes that side of me still shows. For instance, a few nights ago when we were traveling and each having hard time sleeping for various reasons, I was laying next to him listening to him and just had this OMG moment in my head because there, right there, was the Thumper I used to get excited about each time he posted something new. That feeling only lasted a minute or two, but it was odd to me that it would flash back, especially this deep into where we are with our r word. Then I started thinking about what this blog has allowed me to do because during the time I have been writing it, I have met Dan Savage, Metal from my favorite Metalbond website, two or three of my Twitter crushes including the infamous Ferns, and Chris, the artist behind Steelwerks Extreme, who I can absolutely call a new friend who I suspect is going to have a solid place in mine and Axel’s life down the road. These guys, and Ferns, who I idolized in many ways before meeting them, represent the mixture of how my world has started to change and how fucking wonderful I think it is.

That said, it’s funny to me because I have never been one to be intimidated by anyone famous. In the part of my job I cannot talk about much at all, I have been in celebrity homes and offices, met with CEOs of huge companies, met a current Presidential candidate, and have even met royalty, but none of those people ever intimidated me because I was just the professional Drew who had a job to do. I never even thought about it until one night last January when I found myself at the same place as Dan Savage and decided to say hello and introduce myself as Thumper’s boyfriend while standing there holding my husband’s hand. I struggled to get the nerve to walk up to him and, when I did, I could hardly get the words out of my mouth because I was intimidated by all the sexual freedom and possibilities that man represented. Of course, once I did get a word out, I then could not stop and found myself assaulting him with stories about Thumper’s son coming out as bisexual to him, me sleeping with Thumper with the permission of his wife, and all kinds of other inappropriate things one would not typically say to a stranger. Luckily he was nice and chatted back with me but I could not get the 13 year old girl in me to stop talking to him like he was on the current cover of Tiger Beat magazine.

The others have not been nearly as nerve racking, but have still made me sit back and think about the great opportunities embracing my kink has led me. As Thumper mentioned in his post about our trip to Steelwerks, he had a bit of fanboy come out of him when he met Chris and his personal cage. That surprised me in a sense because, well, he’s Thumper, the guru of chastity, how could he be a fanboy too? But, fact is, I think we all have one in us for someone, so I am just proud to be knocking a few off my list.

As for the friendship aspects that have come with this blog, last night Chris and I discussed, via text, how our lunch with Thumper was almost just “perfect” in what we each want out of life because we were able to talk about our families, our friends, our dogs, and our kinks all in one groovily mixed concoction of a conversation that just worked on hundreds of different levels with no shame about what one might be into versus the other, etc. THAT, is what I am looking for now and, while I won’t put up a sign that says “No non-kinky friends allowed” (in those backwards letters usually only associated with shoddily built tree-houses in movies), you can damn well bet I will be screening for it.

I have received a bit of mail recently that I have been remiss in answering directly, so I thought I would take this time to pick out a few questions from the mails to delight us all, especially in light of Thumper’s recent post that addressed comments and the different ways many of us react to them.

Oh, also, most ALL of this has been asked or discussed before, but it never hurts to answer again.

Jeanne asks:

Pardon my personal question, but it appears you “like” Thumper more than he “likes” you. Is this true?

DD:

It does, Jeanne? really? well, fuck, thanks for now making me phobic.

Hmmmm. I think we “like” each other at a similar level. It’s been more than a few weeks since you sent this so I have thought about it a lot and, frankly, resisted asking Thumper or Axel about this because I didn’t want to be skewed, but I have thought about why you might ask this and I think it may come down to the amount of time I spend mentioning him versus him mentioning me, or the fact I tend to compliment a lot versus the rabbit who is a lot more stoic. So, assuming that is why you asked this, you have to remember a few factors such as how this blog came to be, etc.

One, this blog is about me and Thumper as the stars with Axel as the supporting cast member. Denying Thumper is about Thumper, Belle, chastity, and their female led relationship as the primaries and I occasionally pop in as the guest star when the timing is right and when his production budget can afford me. Second, for me, complimenting another man or talking about him in a descriptive sexual way is second nature to me, a gay man, but you have to remember that he lives in a different world than I do and he does not have sweet, romantic type inclinations for men because those parts of his brain are wired for lady parts and their female owners. Frankly, while I do appreciate the occasional compliment or sex text from him, I think it would be creepy if he turned romantic because that’s just not what we are here to do.

FYI, I have never once felt slighted, but now I will pay more attention.

Joc4U asks:

How do your spouses feel about the boyfriend term? Have the four of you met yet? Do you think Thumper and Axel will have sex?

DD:

This question really amused me so thanks.

My husband freely used the term to describe Thumper before I did, so I think that meant he is okay with it. I did once ask him and he thinks it’s a great term because we are more than friends, we have more attached points than two guys who just fuck, and we do have feelings of great warmth and genuine caring for each other, but we are not and never will be in a traditional love based relationship. And, “boyfriend” is simply better than calling him “my friend who I see and touch naked who I also lunch with while talking about baseball” each and every time. Call me crazy but it’s just easier.

As for the four of us meeting, no, that has not happened and I am not sure when or if it will. For the record, I adore Belle from everything I know about her, appreciate her loaning me her husband, and would love to give her a huge hug of gratitude in time. I think it will happen one day, but it’s most likely a long way off and not anything I have anything to do with, so I don’t worry about it. She apparently likes me enough to trust me with her prized possession (I would say bull, but, well), so that’s all I need and I have yet to return him too damaged. Yet.

Now, on the Axel side, he and Thumper are already in each others’ worlds via social media and some crossover work things and I am positive they will meet sooner rather than later because it’s just different for us. We have the luxury in our house, friendships, and such to be able to discuss my boyfriend freely if we choose to, so it makes things much easier.

Will they have sex? (and FYI, this is the part that amused me most) Really? Assuming you are a gay man from your name, do you have sex with every man you meet? I may not want to know that answer, but, no, I do not expect them to ever have sex. Nor is it anything I ever think about. That said, I can see Thumper sleeping right between us in bed one night and getting sandwiched in a cuddle – and I really say that just to fuck with the minds of people more than anything as I truly doubt that would ever happen and the scenarios in which it would, such as being at the North Pole on a science expedition and the power goes out, are even less likely to ever play out.

Sam asks:

Why doesn’t Axel read your blog and why does it sometimes appear that he reads Thumper’s?

Good question. Axel sees this blog as a way of me being able to freely express my kinky feelings, my time with Thumper, and anything else I have on my mind and thinks that if he were a known reader that I would not be as open as I am. Also, while we are open and while he thinks Thumper is the bees knees, he doesn’t want to read about the details of how we feel or any sexual activity we have because it’s a tad too in his face that way. That said, he knows the blog address, has it bookmarked on his Macbook even, and is free to look at it whenever he wants should he choose to do so.

Regarding it appearing that he reads DT, he only does when it’s something I think he needs to see and, when I do, I send him the link. Sometimes it’s about how the wearer of chastity feels, how Belle pets the rabbit, or simply a case like last week when I felt he needed to know that we also have dry spells too. A few times he has been moved to respond in the comments, but that’s his choice and I normally cringe for about twelve seconds when I see it and then breathe because, I think, every time has been an affirmation to whatever point was made.

Stephen asks:

Indulge me, but I would like to know just a few fun facts “behind the collar”. What are five things he would say about you and five things you would say about him that are not known facts?

DD:

Wow, I hate this question, but because I use this same type question to break up speeches with big groups, I think it’s only karma that I get asked this, so I will indulge you but think you should shoot a copy of this question to the rabbit as well.

What Thumper might say about me:

1. I can be a bit of a nag, but usually with reason. Usually.

2. I worry too much about weird things, things out of my control, and the feelings of others.

3. I need to run more.

4. I listen to background conversation all the time and that it freaks him out when I can tell him what’s happening three tables over.

5. I really like the idea of vaginas more than I let on and that I have gained a great deal of knowledge about all things sex from him.

Bonus #6 –  I am a lucky son of a bitch because I get to have my way with him at times.

What I will say about Thumper:

1. He has an ability to multitask electronically like no other being on Earth.

2. He drives everywhere he goes like a Nascar driver chasing a bag of Doritos.

3. He is wicked smart and knows something about everything and can share it with you in a way that makes you feel forever more smart because you heard it from him.

4. He does not take a compliment well at all.

5. His attention span is greatly improved when he is naked.

Bonus #6 – He’s a lucky son of a bitch because I get to have my way with him at times.

I have a bisexual boyfriend. He came with a warning label of sorts issued by his wife, his blog, and him.

In short, it said:

“Bisexual boyfriends may often occasionally require special handling due to wiring issues that can sometimes cause them to think about lady sex organs at times when you require their full attention. They can’t help it, they say. They were born that way, they say. They like snatch, they say. They are worth it, we all say.

When wiring issues occur, bisexual boyfriends can be reset with time, patience, ice cream, or by firmly pressing their reset button located between their thighs. For severe bisexual attention disorders lasting over 12 hours, seek immediate assistance from Tumblr and repeatedly press the button mentioned above more firmly.”

“Gay Boyfriend Beware”, was printed right there, so none of these things I can complain about and, for the record, nor would I.

Thumper beat me to the punch by writing about our time together this week in THIS blog post yesterday on Denying Thumper. It’s funny because we did not talk about a potential post before he wrote that, but I had already planned something very similar to what he wrote, but from the other point of view. I have to admit, when I first saw Thumper had posted that, I was running through O’Hare airport and I only was able to glance down and catch a few words here and there, but, unfortunately the words I caught were not the ones I should have read. This led to a series of long, in depth text exchanges with the rabbit that resulted in me having a bigger smile on my face than I did when I had left him the day before. He’s going to write about that conversation so I will table that for now (and if he doesn’t I will) but I want to talk about my view of this week and why, even prior to his writing, I was actually thinking it was one of our best visits to date.

To start off, Thumper was not horny for what I had to offer this time. He wrote about his bisexual mood blocking wall erecting itself a few days prior to my visit and that he had vaguely hinted to me about that happening. Funny, this erection is something I recognize now, maybe even as soon as he does, so I knew I would be needing to scale or surrender to it when I arrived in his city. Perhaps it’s because it’s the only erection I see him with or just time, but this was one was different in a very good way. See, for the first time in our relationship, this bi-blockade was not something that worried me, evening the slightest, because I knew that we would figure it out as we went along. In fact, in a surprise move, Thumper got some Belle action 12 hours before my arrival which, I assumed, would be like fresh concrete grout into the wall, but even that didn’t worry me because I think he and I have finally reached that place where “we are” and, by that, I mean “we are what we are” and it’s a fascinating combination of affection and attraction tightly wrapped in what is becoming a deep friendship that does not have any romantic intentions whatsoever. I think I speak for him when I say that we each take great pride in this fact and weeks like we just closed only serve to enhance that.

What my original post was going to be about was the friendship angle because, as much as I like, well, fucking love the fucking with him, I have found someone that, when he sees me naked, literally and figuratively sees me naked because he knows all the hiding places I have for my kinks in addition to my professional and personal lives too. This visit sex was not the focus, however, truth be told, Thumper being Thumper and me being me, all it took was a wink, a nudge and a tickle and he was naked and the bisexual bunny tongue was activated, but that’s another story for another time. This time we just enjoyed the evolution of our friendship and went running (twice – I still hurt, I hate to run but really really have to body wise) (and, random fact, Thumper does not smell when he sweats – that’s just freaky), watched a ballgame and ate some really good food, although I displeased him by my dinner order because he had significantly changed how I viewed one of my favorite words at that point.

Finally, as long as we are on the friendship angle, I want to give a direct shout out to my twitter crew which consists of about 6-8 people or couples that I interact with most there. I have met two of the group and hope to meet more in real life as I work around the world, but you guys really rock and, although it’s virtual in most ways, I just want to tell you I appreciate the friendship, encouragement, and just the ability to step away from whatever in life is happening at that moment and laugh, tease, and share our mutual kinks, likes, and dislikes. With a few of you, Thumper, Tom, Ferns, etc, I still feel like the odd kid who has gotten to sit at the cool kid’s lunch table because I have read you for so long or invested time with you in other ways, and it’s just fun and nice to know that you are out there, wherever you are, pulling for me.

So, I am home now and it’s a rainy Saturday but my list is long, so, as Thumper would say, I am 900+ words in and have no way to end this, so, happy Saturday, kinky kids.

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.

Adding to my lists of first the last few months, I’m now sitting here writing my thoughts on bisexuality. Gay man style.

So, it’s no secret I have a bisexual man in my life these days. When we met, I remember thinking something like “Oh cool, he can see me naked and his wife naked and be happy all the time – neat” or something equally silly. In fact, I actually remember one point in my life wishing I could identify as bisexual because, that way, I could hide “the gay”, marry a bisexual woman and the world would be wonderful while I lived with my wife in the big house with the white picket fence. Of course, said house had a gate to my boyfriend’s fabulous house on the right with the BMW in the driveway and another gate to the very practical house on the left with the Subaru in the driveway where my wife’s girlfriend lived. You know, typical suburban bliss. However, I grew up – as did my thinking.

Now, thirty years or so later I really never thought about bisexuality much except for my pure hatred of the term “bi-guy”. They were just simply “those people” who, in my mind, had somewhat of a choice in who they went to, but not in the fact that they were attracted to them.

That thinking changed almost immediately after I met Thumper because we both had that question “could you fall in love outside of your marriage” thrown at us by our spouses, friends – both online and actual, and in our own heads too. It was a natural curiosity for all and is something that happens sometimes and it really opened my eyes to start thinking. For us, the answer simply was no, because that is not how he is wired. A relationship could exist, but not one that would ever threaten either spouse because, the way I see it is, his level of bisexuality is purely about the sexual attraction and not about the “need” that I, as a gay man, have of wanting to deeply nest with another man who I also have sex with while we build a family together. He has those nesting feelings, but his are and forever will be for a woman.

As a side note, I want to make sure I clarify that a need for friendship with a man is outside either sexual parameter and was something we evidently both needed. It’s like one is the cake and is one the icing as they can both exist on their own or blend nicely together when the time is right. One is sticky. One is sweet. Oh the metaphoric journey I could go on with this, but I won’t.

I note that I know most of you already know that story, but that happened months ago and is now a non-issue with the four people involved, however I brought it up though to introduce why I have been thinking so much about this lately. As I have been attacked by a few of the Amy’s of the world, I have thought more and more about the level of unfairness everywhere. Now, some of you may disagree, but I one hundred percent believe that sexuality comes from your genes and nowhere else. I used to joke with a few of my really, really effeminate gay male friends that they “got more of the gene” than I did, but now I wonder if it really was a joke as I have met bisexuals who really do feel like they could nest with either gender. Did they get more sparkly embryonic fluid than Thumper did? Who knows. One day, when science justifies my feelings of gay by birth without question, I hope they get right to that next question.

But, here is where I want to stand up for the bisexual men and women because, I never really realized that it has to be as hard, or even harder, for you to “come out” to yourselves and others as it was for me and I apologize for being so flippant about it in my youth. A thought I have had of late is that once I was out it was, in some ways, over. I married a man, started a family, grew my life and, aside from those random professional questions of “what does you wife do?” or “what is your wife’s name?” I don’t think about it that much (as a side note, I used to get the “why don’t you and your wife have kids?” question so often that I developed the ability to get a tear in my eye when I answered about how “we tried and tried but medically it just could not happen”. I miss that question).

Anyway, there is a general lack of respect for the bisexuals and I want to do my part to change that, some how, some way. As a for instance, I told my best friend about Thumper. Yes, that involved me telling him about the open marriage thing first but I luckily didn’t have to also come out to him as “straight – but only once a month or so”. That sucks for the “bi-guy” (I disgust myself even typing it). In addition to that, I suspect many have to deal with the unjustified feelings that others may have that they “just didn’t have the courage to be all the way gay” or that they may love their opposite sex partner but not lust after them the way they would for a same sex one. That is complete bullshit because I can see a look in Thumper’s eye when he mentions Belle’s name that just shows how much he WANTS her in every way possible and how much she completes him. I also see that same look in the eye of a female friend who is bisexual but married to a man. I kid you not, I hope and pray that Axel makes those eyes when my name is discussed because we all deserve that and for anyone to even think that they made a choice of love over lust is stupid (noting that I recognize many people, gay, straight and sideways do “settle” in some way, but that’s not today’s topic).

Another myth I debunked for myself is that being bisexual and bi-curious is the same thing. I know many people who have tried sex with the same gender just to scratch a little itch and then never went back because that one tryst was all the benedryl they needed. Frankly, one day I may do it simply so I have the experience, but, for the record, only with someone who was completely in the know. For the truly bisexual, the itch doesn’t go away and for those who don’t have the courage or ability to admit it to their partners, I am sad for them.

But even for those who do admit it to either themselves for their partner, finding that right person to “help scratch” has to be hard (even for the ones who don’t have penises encased in steel) because, well, it’s a pretty unique niche and the Grindr’s and Scruff’s of the world don’t have those categories.

I have rambled here, I know, and I am sure by this point you are all expecting Sally Struthers to pop into the post to ask you to give money for the “sexually starved bisexuals”, but she’s not. I am, I guess, just asking everyone to be more aware (as I have been proven wrong before in thinking that anyone reading this would already be aware) and to always think as broad as possible as we go about our lives representing our kinks and our sexualities.

However, since I did mention Sally, I guess I should close with something like, “if you could just lend one bisexual man your penis for just one day, you could save a marriage. Won’t you just think about it?”

I guess I should warn “those people” that is this not a sexy, kinky post as one needs to have been sexy and kinky recently to post a lot of that. I have felt neither this week but it’s coming back.

As I have mentioned, I am not traveling for almost three weeks and this is really throwing me off my game. Yes, I still have work to do (in fact, I am staring at a 150 page report I have to write that’s due Friday that I have only known about for six months and carried to four continents with me), but the inner Sheldon I carry around in my head is screaming at me because there is nowhere I HAVE to be and no logical schedule to be following.

Prior to this job, I was the typical 8-5 executive who always had an office to go to and a stress level that caused me to lose what hair I had left. When I switched careers, I spent months adjusting to having every day be different and often in a different city, but I quickly realized that no routine WAS the routine so it settled and I learned to embrace it and my stress levels are lower than in the last 20 years professionally. However, when home, I was struggling because I often became overwhelmed at the fact I had one, two or three nights to do what I used to have seven do to. This caused stress between Axel and myself because, frankly, I am just an ass when the world is not going my way. I try to fight it, but I just can’t sometimes.

That is where the idea of me being more controlled at home and while away in chastity came from and it was working, but with December being what it was professionally for him and my sex organ bleeding, the magic of that control dried up for a few weeks. However, as I have said, it will come back and I am looking forward to it. In fact, Axel and I talked this week on our road trip to what I call “Southern Hell”, aka, the in-laws, about how to get that back and how the chastity, we realized, had played a huge role in things. That is too much to add here, but I plan a separate post on that later today or tomorrow because I feel it’s important to share or at least for me to remember when I read this years from now for my own information.

Speaking of that trip, honestly that is what inspired this post in a way because it made me realize exactly how comfortable and how happy I have been since allowing myself to embrace my kink side, since allowing you all into it, since beginning my relationship with the bunny boyfriend, which ALL circles back to Axel and I opening our marriage.

I know it’s hard to get how all of that can happen around an aluminum Alabama Christmas tree, however, in this case, I was very out of my element and wanting to just tell every single person in the room that I had a piece of titanium in my penis, like plugs in mine and my boyfriend’s asses, and that I have met Doms/Dommes/slaves/subs/and pets in the last few weeks. It was crazy, but I had such a feeling of not fitting in that I was struggling to even make conversation. Of course, that was not fair to Axel so I worked hard and got past it, but it wasn’t easy.

I have told you I am a proud Southern man and was born and raised “down here”, but Axel and I come from very different Souths. Mine is one of acceptance, private education, dressing for Sunday dinner (at 2pm), and using one’s natural accent for emphasis or sexiness (or just when drunk). His South is, unfortunately, more stereotypical where judgment rules, religious symbols are placed everywhere (someone we know has a picture of Jesus printed on vinyl and cut to fit the hood of their Camry), accents are just, well, bad for the image of all Southerners, and our German SUV is still looked at as “one of them foreign cars” and seriously does elicit stares.

That said, most of the people are good, hardworking people and have never, ever treated me with anything but respect, even while praying for the gay to go away. However, after hearing my mother-in-law refer to me as Jake multiple times (yes, while Drew is not my real name, it’s not Jake either and after 17 years, she should know it) and after my father-in-law and his wife gave me a giant cross sticker for the window of our cars, I ALMOST lost it before Axel suddenly jumped in and started explaining how all of that was inappropriate, how we were both pretty much agnostic and, even if we were religious we’d never have it on our cars, and that my name is ____.

It was really funny because then he started talking about how they could use a nice “re-think” of everything, how people, including their neighbors have secrets behind closed doors, and how praying to the Camry would likely not save their soul. When the irrational people left and the conversation evolved, I had stepped out for a bit and came back in to hear him talking about this couple he knows that have the kids, the house, perfect careers, and the dog, but have open minds about life and how they thrive. In fact, that “husband even has a boyfriend” (which caused two gasps and one brother in law to be seen adjusting his crotch) and that she is “encouraging of it and sees it just like when she goes to the spa”. I am not sure if I was too proud of him to be happy or too happy to realize how proud I was or just too busy looking around the table to see if anyone was putting two and two together (they didn’t and I didn’t blush) but it was just one more step on the Axel evolution ladder in a weird, weird setting.

So, this was a long post about nothing, but just shows that once again, the dominoes are all falling in a row and that just makes me smile harder than I would if a troop of hot firemen were to walk through the room (well, maybe not).

More tomorrow on chastity and the plans for January but until then, remember, if feeling blue, go find yourself your own Camry to pray to. I hear it helps.

P.S. Yes, Thumper, I know you predicted I would not know what to do with myself with 3 weeks off.  The bunny is always right, folks