I have yet to even try it on because, when it arrived, I didn’t have the proper time or mood to dedicate to such an occasion. But I did take a few pics from my office.
Did I need a new cage? No. The Tiffany 2.0 I had was beautiful, compact, and quite comfortable. While I had admired the new, curved titanium tube design that Steelwerks was now making, I was contently locked away going about 2020 like the rest of us. You know, in a sort of fear, constant dread, masked and sanitized. Then, I got an offer from someone wanting that cage that I could not turn down.
One scrubbing and a vinegar and water boil later, the Tiffany 2.0 was in a FedEx box going far far away to a land my American passport no longer allows me to enter.
So, that’s how the new one came about and I am thrilled with the more compact, tightly curved shape. Also, as I have mentioned, my gingery skin is pretty sensitive and I would often wind up irritated where the PA fit through the bottom of the tube, so with this one, SW made me a barbell that is often used by uncut men. This design goes in from the bottom and locks from the front, but nothing is exposed on the underside which should help tremendously with the irritation issues I was having (plus nothing there to catch in a zipper!).
As I mentioned, I haven’t tried it on yet but hope to today. I am a bit ceremonial in some respects and things like peeling the protective cover off a new iPhone, peeling that blue plastic that never really ever comes off from the step plate of a new car, trying on clothes, or taking my time and looking, touching and savoring my newest penis are all things that I want to be in a quiet place where I have all kinds of time to just be in the moment. Yesterday when it arrived I was arguing with my HR department over something and was so, so not in the moment. But there is hope for today. And, you know me, titanium penis pics will soon be coming, but until then, here is from the unboxing.
It’s been no secret that, on top of everything else 2020 has brought us, it also brought me a bit of a midlife crisis (MLC). I have friends who have had their own MLC’s and have bought expensive cars, who are suddenly sporting a full head of hair, or who have magically found a new “long term significant other” who is their “soulmate” who they plan to travel the world with once that “soulmate” is old enough to legally rent a car. For me, luckily, my MLC has been lots of home improvement projects, a double digit weight gain, a low level funk, and a re-analyzation of whether this chastity thing was for me. I unlocked the day my mother died in March and, in all honesty, aside from a few days here and there, all of my cages stayed safely stored in a drawer full of other discarded things that at one point had also meant the world to me.
The good news is that I am always a glass is 3/4 of the way full kinda guy and a funk wasn’t fitting. So myself and I had some pretty serious talks, mostly while in very long showers, and, all in all, I think my MLC is quickly waining. I will spare you all the life lessons learned and the “I will do betters” and fast forward to the chastity part because, I mean, come on, that’s why you are here. I decided it is for me. It is for Axel. And, when the time arrives, it will be for whoever else we invite into our relationship who will either be locked like me (when not in dom mode – remember, switchy is tricky) or who will hold my key and maybe Axel’s.
However, with this being the decision, I needed to make a few changes for comfort starting with my PA. I haven’t really written about this but after about two days in any cage, the skin around my pa swells, turns red, and hurts like a mother fucker. This is mostly because, being a ginger, I am super sensitive to lots of things and that little bit of area where the skin, the cage, and the PA meet is just not conducive to long term wear for sweet gingery me. In addition, if I take the PA out, my body reacts and immediately closes the hole by swelling and it’s a bitch and a half to get it open again that usually results to a tear running down my face.
So, being the fanboy I am, I called Chris at Steelwerks to both discuss my options and to talk to Mrs. Steelwerks, once again, about how she would not ever regret watching Hamilton even though they are, well, Canadian (said in a whisper). Our original plan was that I was going to order a taper to help keep the hole open. SW makes the best tapers as they screw into existing jewelry to help thread that through. I really wish he would get back to making the custom body jewelry that he started his career doing because that would be amazing, but I digress.
The taper conversation led to a discussion about how he could make me a new PA that would lock in the front hole and not even come out of the tube on the underside. For irritation issues this sounded amazing and I was all in, but we realized my cage had the groove cut out for the PA and there was a worry that the new one would catch in that. That wasn’t a deal breaker at all because he could make the end be a shape that wouldn’t go through the slot, but, well, me being me, I also mentioned the really cool new tubes he was making with the tight curve and asked if my current tube could be replaced with a tight curve, no slot, and while we are at it, a closed cap new tube. Of course he said yes, as SW can make anything, so with a few text exchanges about shipping, fund transfers and another Hamilton discussion, here we are.
The cage is with him now. He has already started my new one.
And, with all that said and done, I have realized that my penis, and the titanium that encases it, are my MLC Porsche, new hair, and exaggerated, diffichttps://twitter.com/steelwerks/status/1293638798237147136?s=20ult to insure non rent a car-able soulmate twink.
And, if that makes my mood better, then so be it.
Stay tuned. I should have it in the next few weeks and might take and post a picture or 92.
Just a word of warning, today we are discussing age and getting older which I have learned, is not for the weak.
Like many of you, I am old enough to remember a time when people traveled freely between states and the American passport could take you anywhere you wanted to go, cause you still had a job and could save up afford it. And though I long for the days past, I have settled into a new rhythm that has me actually working more than ever and, ironically, 2020 is my best professional year in my career. But, that’s the only thing positive I have to say about it.
A few months ago I turned 50 an age I neither dreaded nor looked forward to. However, I have waited to write this as I am still not sure I like being 50, but mostly it’s because within a week of my birthday, quarantine happened, I re-broke my foot, and my mother died. The next week, my college roommate died of a brain tumor, the woman I used to call a second mom died of COVID, and every single thing I was used to doing professionally for the last ten years changed instantly. It was fuck 50 big time, even though I know it really wasn’t my birth year’s fault (1970 RULEZ).
The deaths sent me into a spiral and I started counting that if I were like my mother I had 24 more years left or if I did this, I’d be this, and so on and so on. I worried about 50 being the end of my sex life or the end of ever being attractive to anyone. I realized that if I did still have hair, it would be all gray. You know, all those fun things one does when they get into that cycle. However, I started to question the other way as to what I was scared of. I mean, just from my kink friends alone, I have inspiration such as with my Australian girlfriend Ferns, who is so beautiful it’s not fair, but she turned 50 and showed a nude pic and not a single bit of that slowed her down. I looked at Thumper who is WAY older than me and he can still talk about his metal penis ad nauseam and people still are engaged and this does not even begin to speak about what he can do with his ass. So, they gave me hope that sex and, maybe more importantly, sexuality will and can continue.
That made me think why I was so worried about it and, one night a few weeks ago when I was scrolling Scruff (you all know I love the apps to look at and/or talk to strangers – an introverts delight) I realized that the fear of 50, or the fear of middle age, had been at least visually perpetuated by all the mother fuckers out there who lie about their age and think that somewhere between 49-52 is the most believable age for them. While I have never understood why someone would lie about their age and then expect to meet someone, I also don’t understand especially why you’d not pick an age you can pull off. So in scrolling, I found 15 men who said they were 50. Three or four of them looked great. Good skin, some wrinkles, but they looked like me in many ways, so I will assume they are actually 50 as I really can’t fathom why one would lie up in age.
Going through the rest was a man who, if he really was 52 as he said, would have qualified for having had the hardest life on record, as he looked stunningly horrible for 52. Down the boxes from him was another guy who was listed as 51 and though he looked better than the first one, he went on to say in the text that he had two grown kids and three grandchildren – two of which were in college. I mean, I grew up in and live in the deep South, so that is technically possible, BUT, do the math, this dude had to be pushing 70. Then there was the 49 year old who had JET black hair that was so dyed it was almost purple, deep inset wrinkles that only come from 100 years in the sun, and he was wearing an Abercrombie shirt that we ALL know should never be worn past the age of 27.5.
I just wanted to know why they did this because what had occurred to me is that THIS is what I thought 50 looked like since internet dating started. I mean, yes, I know people age differently, but so many people who had been so “clever” in not accepting their age had created a group of guys below them who feared looking like that at their real age. I didn’t want that, but that is what I thought I would be, apparently.
So, I asked them. Yes, I know, that is almost the equivalent of me being in a strip club once in college and trying to ward off a lap dance – FROM A WOMAN – by asking her if her Mom knew what she did and if her Nanna had ever seen her perform, but, I decided why not. (I never knew what happened that day but I did not get a dance and my friends were asked to take me home).
So, the 52 year old really was 61 and was stunned that I could tell he wasn’t the age he said he was. Stunned. He said he looked amazing. I offered to stand next to him to see but he declined. He thought I was rude. I said he was a liar. I promptly got blocked
The 51 year old with grandkids was actually, get this, 67, and he said he had not aged a single day since he was 51, so he used that age and he has never been turned away. He declined to tell me if he had many second dates. I then got blocked.
The 49 year old. Well, sadly, he actually was only 51 and even I could not fine a way to gently tell him he looked awful. I think I said something like “a more welcoming picture might do wonders for you” and then, this time, just to feel the power of the block, I quickly blocked him first.
I really don’t know why I think this was something post worthy, but, I do think that if you are a man, especially a gay man for whatever reason, do not base what you think you will look like or be from any of these apps -unless he’s hot, muscular and 51 – lol – and for God’s sake, post your real age. I think the biggest point is don’t be afraid of getting old and, if you are, look to the real ones of us who have hit these milestones and still continue to tweet about naked body parts, abusing the willing, and giant sex toys going into tiny places. The reality is that it truly is what you make it, so make it worth it.
I am finally opening the blog email (I think I forgotI had it- sorry) and realized I have not answered many, well, any, questions in forever. As usual, half the messages are stupid, common sense, or just wanting to sell me viagra, so I have selected a few (and in a few cases combined 1-2 questions).
Drew, where the fuck have you been? Did you stop the blog?
I have honestly considered stopping this a few times but know that I would miss it when life settles down and I get my writing mojo back. In all honesty I started thinking of the blog as a chore, as one more thing I had to do, one more nagging back of mind item so I blocked it and didn’t think about it.
The transition from 100% travel to 100% in a chair in the front of my house with the lack of any real alone time has been tough on me. Job wise I am still and will be fine, but working almost ten years where things were relatively easy to suddenly having to go into survival mode, no matter how much it hurts, was not something I ever thought I would have to do during my career. Fuck, it’s been a challenge to physically do it but the mental challenge has been worse because, no surprise, watching the world nearly collapse most days due to the horrible-ness we have in Washington just makes me so sad some days and having to tell friends/colleagues that they may not have a job in three weeks is brutal and exhausting.
That said, there is good news. I FINALLY got out of the cast/boot for my broken foot after almost six months, Axel and I have have gotten along amazingly well and have a lunch date in the backyard almost every day, and we got a new puppy to keep Stella company and to add some new life around us after the significant losses he and I each had the last few months.
So, thanks for asking. Trust me, even if not writing I am still Twitter lurking – likely while on a work Zoom.
How many days have you been locked during the pandemic?
I was locked about the first six weeks of it and then had to have a MRI of my foot and legs done so I took it off and still haven’t put it back on. If you have followed me you know that stress makes me lose any interest in sex or kink, and during a few weeks of this a squad of naked firemen wearing collars and leashes would not have made me react, so there was no point in wearing it as there would be no unapproved orgasms anyway.
Since it’s been a few years, do you still love your PA? would you do it again?
Good question and something I have considered a lot. It’s been over 5 years since I got it, which, in and of itself is still staggering to me, but my official answer to you is a yes, no, and then a firm maybe depending on the day. I still think it’s beautiful, still enjoy the way it feels in my hand and in Axel and love the way it will lock a chastity cage on you in ways many men have not experienced.
The negatives, even with the hollow barbell which does allow me to stand, I still have to think before I piss, I miss wearing khaki or light gray pants willy nilly, and at least once a week I will catch it in a zipper and that feeling is not nice.
Taking all that together though, I still feel like a bad ass mother fucker at the (now virtual) boardroom table so, yeah, I still like it and, yes, I would do it again.
What’s your favorite combination of a vanilla and kink look on a man?
THIS is a fun question.
Tall. Naked. Locked leather collar. Leather leash. iPhone in left hand. Apple Watch on left wrist. Steelwerks cage on cock. Plug in ass. And a BMW or Porsche key in his right hand. ON running shoes, no socks, on feet.
(if anyone should either fit the above or know the above, message me. FAST)
You say you are switch, what does that mean on any given day?
Basically it means that the man above would either sexually own me or I would sexually own him depending on the hour and the day of the week.
Seriously, when I was younger I would switch for periods at a time. For a year I wanted nothing more than to own a slave and do all kinds of sadistic things to him. Winter would come I wanted to switch places and that lasted till the end of Summer, etc. Now, I think I could switch within a day and, as I look for the elusive family I discuss, I think I could be sub to a Sir while still being alpha to a beta. It’s a weird thing, yes, but pretty darn cool too.
Why do you have two Steelwerks’ cages? Isn’t one enough?
Have you ever thought about asking someone who collects art why they have more than one painting? I haven’t. And, while others have pointed out I just have one penis, to me, these are wearable art pieces and I have invested in them for that reason in addition to function. Oh, and I have three.
Okay, I think this is it. I don’t want say too much on this one as it would then be a year before my brain will want to type again!
Hello from day 376, I think, or it feels like, of quarantine. My state is starting to open up and I have been to the gym a few times, picked up some take out from inside a restaurant, and even got a haircut, so it’s nice to have elements of the real world popping back into real life (and yes, it may be too early but I protected myself and those around me). Real life the last few months has been intense and I mean that in a neither good nor bad way, but just intense. Ax and I are each dealing with the loss of a parent – in very different ways – while adjusting to each of us working from home every single day of the week. Luckily our house is big enough that we could honestly go all day without having to overhear work calls from each other as long as we each stay in our assigned places, but it’s still fucking odd that after 21 years together the last nine weeks have been the longest we have ever spent together. The first ten years or so, he spent in school and practicums getting his degrees and licenses and then, when that happened, my career took off and I hit the road, so this has been a tremendous opportunity to spend time together and about 97.6% has been amazing- which surprised me just a bit for some reason.
Now, this being about our intimate life and all, I’d love to tell you we have had kink fueled sex every afternoon followed by more each evening but nope. I had envisioned myself chained to the desk just outside of the zoom camera while leather and latex sat all around the desk. But, again… (And don’t any of you pretend to be surprised.)
I blame myself because even with chastity and the like, when I get stressed, my dick can crawl up inside of me faster than anything and, for me, if you have learned only one thing about me yet, you will know I like things even, planned, and with foresight – all things that one cannot do in a quarantine. Work wise we are both incredibly lucky to still have jobs, me more than him, but I worry constantly as I am in an industry that was hit hard. I, like many I know, took a “voluntary” reduction in pay to keep my company from laying people off. Of course, this being a side of me I don’t show the public I think I can say here and debunk any myths as those things are never actually voluntary, despite what the press release says. In fact, I was never even consulted and have a mental list of at least 10 jack offs who should be laid off because they don’t work. But, being a good corporate citizen, I bent over the way they expect good obedient workers to do in the real world regardless of your Dom or sub status on Twitter.
Now that I have all of that out I am not sure really why I am writing this post though I guess if nothing other than to just prove I am still alive. I was planning to write more about a mildly judgmental exchange that happened a few weeks back on the Twitter started by one of my favorites that bothered me, so maybe I will now. My friend asked how many devices people had, how long had they been buying devices, and, finally, how much had someone spent collectively on said devices.
It was really interesting in some ways because some guys had ten or more devices and had not spent more than $400 while others, like, me and a surprising lot had spent more than five digits on various cages, mostly being products from Steelwerks, Steelworxx, Lori’s, Mature Metal, etc. While there was a collective “wow” among the group at that stage, I still thought it was a bit fun and interesting to see how we all had the same interest but how we had all found various ways to take care of our need based on where we were in our lives and the like.
Then, a stranger to our group walked in, like they always can on Twitter, and I can’t remember the exact comment or really even what it said, but there was an immediate tone of judgment in it that was questioning why anyone would pay such money for something like a cage when other cheaper ones off the rack do exist. It kept going and going a bit more as they often do. Because of the group tagged in this, most of us in the higher dollar levels had a Steelwerks cage so that, naturally, was the topic of discussion. This led those of us who have these devices, and even a few who didn’t, to begin to justify our purchases in ways NONE of us HAD do yet for some reason felt compared to do.
I talked about how women I work with have wedding rings that cost $10k or more and, unless I am in the wrong circles, nobody says boo about it. I think explained how I had spent $35 on my wedding ring on Amazon because I was saving money because I knew where I wanted the good ring to be and it wasn’t on my finger.Others talked about the comparisons to BMWs and Bentleys and the like, but at the end of the day I just felt bad because I just didn’t understand why we, myself included, felt we had to defend ourselves.
This judgement, so to speak, in our personal preferences to spend seemed the “height of bad form in a culture of kink that is supposed to value everyone’s individual motivations and desires as OK even if they’re not mine” (Thumper, 2020). The conversation ended there and left a bitter taste, though I am not sure if it was just me on that day or if it was a general thing that on any other day I would have just shrugged off.
There’s been no more discussion of that thread and no likes or anything else to get it moving again, so I assume the issue will die down if it didn’t already die out, but the kinky judging the kinky about their kinks needs to stop.
This isn’t a whine post or the like, but just an update with something to pay attention to. You know, like one of those afternoon specials from yesteryear (question: do those still exist?)
Over the years of this blog, my Mother was the accidental star of multiple posts that featured her inquisitions about my sex life, her suspected knowledge of my boyfriend on the side, and her just general fascination and acceptance of my sexuality.
A few days ago she gave in to her fight with Alzheimer’s and left us to go on another journey that I hope is filled with just as much love, laughter, and acceptance as she showed me.
And, proving the funny of this whole thing, the day we said goodbye, my father wore his favorite hat, my Nasty Pig hat he accidentally borrowed one day from my house and fell in love with and wears all the without having ANY clue as to what that “fancy logo” stands for.
So, in honor of her and her love of the kinky people, I wanted to re-post my favorite Mom post.
(P.S. – absolutely no need to say you are sorry, etc, I just thought this a fitting way to close the story of someone who added so much here)
Am I the only one who, even after 14 days of this, finds yourself a little turned on by everyone using phrases like “locked down”, “locked up”, and the like? I think some of that is the 13 year old boy in me that giggles in my head when someone says the word “plug” or “penis”, but is interesting that so many people are talking about having personal freedoms taken away like it’s ALWAYS a bad thing. I argue this when I can look down at my metal dick and find a hug sense of comfort knowing that freedom HAS been taken away via my own doing.
It’s funny, of all the ways I ever thought I would describe chastity, “comforting” was never a word I thought I would use. However, for me that is a constant that hasn’t changed one bit since being locked down because it is constant no matter where and what is happening in the fucked up world.
Like most of the world, I am home indefinitely. There are some amazing pluses to this as I have gotten to actually sleep in my actual bed next to my husband, cuddle with my dog, and just enjoy the fact that right now it’s 6:00pm, the sun is out, Ax is cooking, and I am home to see it all. In time, I know I am going to look back at these weeks and miss them terribly, but right now I want to run down to the mall, shop at every store, and eat at every restaurant.
I suspect that if you have read these posts the last few years you might have guessed I am a tad Type A (just a tad). Out of control is not a phrase I deal with well. Combine that with suddenly being in the same place when used to spending 200+nights traveling, and life is fucking odd. I know I am lucky, my job is safe (for now – I am just a worrier), and, in fact, even busier than two months ago. These things, combined with the fact I haven’t been exposed to the virus means I have nothing to complain about in reality, so I am just going to say this is weird while not officially not complaining about what I cannot control. But I want to.
What I can complain about is I didn’t follow doctor’s orders and walked a bit too much on my stress fractured foot, so that fracture became a break and I am now on crutches and have a scooter on order for the next 6-8 weeks which sucks like mad and is 100% my fault. I am trying to pretend it’s a weird extended bondage scene, but so far I have failed to trick myself. Though I am a tad excited that I did upgrade the scooter to have all terrain wheels (with air) AND a basket, I am still dreading the next few weeks like fuck.
All of these things have made me think about my switchiness, and my desire to control and be controlled. Could the lack of life control I am feeling now be rectified by a Dom controlling me? Or would I feel more in control if I were directing a sub? It’s an an equal feeling rooted in the unequal-ness I crave on both sides, so I wonder which, if either, would rectify this weirdness?
At the moment, it’s the sub side of me crying out for control and I am lucky that Ax and our coach of sorts are willing to help me with this. When the original two week lock down was mandated, Ax and I had grand plans to start this again. Then a life event happened (more in a later post), we paused which worried me when I thought this might be only a two week thing, but now that we are looking at, according to my boss, 8-12 more weeks of this, so cross your fingers we can get this right this time. Maybe.
One day I will write more about some of my internal oppositions to my own fantasies and desires, but that’s not now as I would rather write about how I overcame them versus cowered to them. I know that is not the best way to do this (remember I am married to a therapist who likes to share his thoughts) but it’s the way I need it to happen so maybe the end story will be my drive to just finally fucking give in.
Guy 2: “okay, I am married to Terry, he’s not my Sir, but he owns a boy John in the next building. Are you thinking of Noel, my Master or Jeff, my sub?”
This is as fun post that is long past due.
It all starts with my new concept of wanting to build a family who can care for each other when one gets old, but also one that would fill our desired to experience a super kinky, hierarchical based, semi closed polyamory-ish, family style relationship. Did you stay with me through that?
As I have mentioned, Axel and I are in a great place mentally with each other as he slowly assumes the Dom role as I quietly assume the role of sub to him as well. MENTALLY, we get this now and we know we will eventually practice this, but physically and usually mentally, right now he and I are just fucking exhausted at the end of the week. I have mentioned the outside things drawing us these days, and until some of those factors change – which are far beyond our control – we will just play a bit here and there – with ourselves others as I know that one day the collar will lock on.
The family dynamic to some seems like an orgy ready to happen or incest-like role play, but, for us, it’s not that at all, though Thanksgiving might spark an orgy or two but who knows. For us, this is about finding a few men, or a small group of men, who will be there for us in a power of-attorney-type way for when we may not be able to do for ourselves. I envision this group to have natural power dynamics and, while we are young enough to do it, we can use each other in ways that links our kinks quiet well.
For me, despite the shit of life lately, I have visited with my kink whisper, Dom (@jockdgear on Twitter), twice and we talk every day. This man from my past, owns a part of me and has since I met him 20 years ago and I am lucky that Axel, the majority owner of me, allows it now and will allow it in the future. I am glad because I fully plan to allow Dom to the train me and my mind out of some dark shadows of shyness I have always had. He and Axel have already had some great talks about some shared career goals, so that is a great thing still on the horizon as he’s already in the family.
In another “thank God I am switchy” moment, Ax and I have met a boy (Rexx) who, if all goes as well as it has been, will one day wear our sub boyfriend collar. He is beautiful, smart and, so far, following every single task flawlessly. He’s eager to belong and describes himself as the bottom head of a totem pole so we will be fine together.
I see a lot of structures like this on online and am always thrilled for the participants. So, if that is your, does anyone have any advice or want to share the dynamics of their family?
More updates to come, but did want to say it’s not all gloom and doom.
Where have you been, Drew? I have missed your writing.
Well, so far, that is the question of 2020. The last few months have been some of the weirdest and strangest as life events have just happened that are not conducive to writing about penises and metal dicks.
For those of you who have followed along for a few years, you will remember that my mother was the accidental star of my sex blog because there were a few stories of how she shaped me, more stories about how I swear she knew I was fucking Thumper, and then just some general life lessons as we, together, watched her be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and we listened as the stories became less and less.
Well, after an odd infection around and over the holidays, she did not get better and is now in a hospice home where she is receiving some amazing end of life care. This, along with a father who has never been alone in over 60 years, which I like having a toddler with credit cards and car keys, has encompassed Axel and myself. Even with private nursing for both of them, it’s exhausting and depressing and in no way do these things equal incredible sex that one wants to blog about.
And, I broke my foot. Twice. I think the first time was when I was last with Thumper because he and I went to dinner and I remember going in and things being great and then coming out with a weird pain and a limp. The next day, as documented in the blog somewhere, was hell and a week later I was in a walking boot. I wore that the prescribed amount of time, but apparently that wasn’t long enough and last week I was wearing my Sunday shoes to work and the pain came back again and so did the break, except this time it was bigger. So, now I have one of the walking boots that looks like a storm trooper and it kinda turns me on. Sadly, it’s 6-8 weeks of this which sucks as I still have to travel weekly. I do enjoy getting on the plane first, but I have a status level that let’s get on second no matter what, so that joy is rather short lived.
But, anyway, it’s not all bad and, in fact, none of that is awful, it’s just all unpredictable and I think you all know me well enough to know that I do not like the unexpected. Ever.
How was your visit with the Kink Whisperer?
It was hot. I wore shackles. He made me eat vegan brownies.
It really was nice and, in fact, I am going back this week. I owe him and the experience way more than just these three sentences, so a real post will be coming soon.
How many miles did you fly last year?
234,767 from 1/1/19 t0 12/31/19
Will you write more about your feelings on being a switch?
Actually, yes, that will be coming as I have been doing a lot of thinking about that recently.
Why don’t you write more about sex like Thumper and Chaste Cyclist?
That’s funny, the times I have written about me and Ax or even me and Thumper I felt weird about it. But, I have always been weird about talking about sex which is one reason why this blog was so good for me back when I was having sex that needed to written about.
I think this will be my new goal – have sex to be written about. In fact, let me hop on my crutches and go find Ax…
Twenty one years ago, when I was a young puppy at 28 with sweeping ginger hair and a 30″ waist, I was in Los Angeles and met a Dom who was 22, owned a professional dungeon, and was exotic and hot as fuck. We were supposed to just have lunch, but, as things sometimes do, we connected immediately and that day I spent time in his cage, learned how to suck his dick while being bound and hung upside down, and ultimately spent the night with my ankle locked to his as we tried to stay off of each other while pretending to sleep. I left the next day and flew home in a newly enlightened state. Coincidently, that day was the first time I had ever been locked in chastity – lord, what did he start? He commemorated all of this for me on a 3.5 floppy disk full of low resolution pictures so I would never forget that day.
That week, we talked every single night for hours (as this was pre text), of course it was after 9pm when cell phone long distance was free with unlimited minutes. I liked this guy and he liked me. It wasn’t a love thing, it was truly a weirdly young Dom/sub connection. We joked a few times about me selling my house, moving to LA, and becoming his slave. Like I said, we joked, he had a boyfriend who he was getting serious with in Germany, I had just started the beginnings of what would build to a nice career, and, he was 22 and I was 28. It was tempting, but there were other things in life we each had to do.
At exactly one week from the day I was hanging upside down, I met Axel.
Dom and I continued to talk, though calls were shorter and less frequent. And, as I knew I was about to be falling in love with Axel, but those first few weeks, if Dom had called and said the cage door is open, I might have really gotten on a plane.
Dom, I thought, moved to Germany to be with the boyfriend and, in a world of no social media, we immediately lost touch. Though I could not remember his last name, I never forgot him because he is the one who showed me what BDSM could be and that was a comfort to me as I started a new life with a vanilla as ice cream man from Alabama who, at the time, I could barely understand – which was endearing as fuck.
Time passed, weeks, months, then two years and three weeks later I came home one afternoon to see Axel sitting behind our shared computer (no way in hell now) with a stunned look on his face because he had found the elusive, exotic 3.5 inch floppy disc and, on the giant 17″ screen that weighed 376 pounds was a me, in all my glory, hanging upside down with Dom’s dick in my mouth. Axel was wordless. I was embarrassed. Up until that point I had hidden every bit of my kinky side and, right there, in full color, I naked ass in the breeze showed it all.
That led to the first conversation about kink. About five years later we had another one. Around four years after that we had a third one and now, what feels like 107 years later, he locks my dick, tells me he owns me, and if he had his way I would not leave the house in the morning without a giant plug up my ass. I always, always secretly thanked Dom for taking those pictures. Seriously, whether he knew it or not he was acting as my Kink Whisperer even from wherever.
So, fast forward to two weeks ago. I had just put up a pic on Twitter showing my cage in a new jock in my sexy, sexy boot I have for a broken-ish foot and some stranger who had just friended me liked the pic. I went to bed and woke up the next morning to more likes of the pic, and a message that said something like “dude, great shots, I can’t tell you what it is but I am drawn to you”. Me, ever one to accept a compliment, direct messaged him and we chatted for about a day, even exchanging face pics, first names, and back ground stories. Late on the second day he said something to me that clicked and vibrated my cage a bit and I said, “would you happen to remember xxxx?”, and he came back with “you mean when I did xxxx?” and holy fucking hell, it was Dom. I have gained about 300 pounds and lost a lot of hair while he had grown a sexy beard, a great set of tattoos, and now had hair like Jesus. It was like I had met my best friend from 3rd grade because we were like kids texting until all hours at a pace that hasn’t stopped.
He is divorced with a beautiful child and I am married with the best dog in the world, but our bond was there and, with a lot of shit happening in both our lives not disclosed here, the leather gods above had a reason to reconnect us, I feel. I needed my whisperer.
Neither of us would change the 20 past years for anything, but we each did finally admit we were serious in our joking ownership ways.
Now, we are embarking on a kinky friendship where we will likely tie each other up, suck a dick or two, and share amazing stories from our own adventures (mine are about cars and travel, his are hotter than porn) but I feel lucky to have this chance again. Oh, Axel is beyond happy because, well, he’s just happy when I am and he also knows I needed a whisperer too. And, in a weird way, so did Dom.
I know all of this reads like a 13 year old girl just wrote a BDSM themed Hallmark movie, but as my birth family starts to dwindle and as I watch my favorite woman in the world (my mom) slip away, I have always said that fate would help me find or build a new family that would help protect me, Axel and the new members as we age and move forward, I think that is exactly it, even though there are no names, titles, or any other expectation than whispering.
I’m in LA next week and am taking off a day so we can do whatever it is we will do, I have visions of nothing and am not planning anything in my head which, more than anything, shows my trust in Dom as a dom, regardless of whether it’s lunch, dinner, or a nap chained to each other I suspect I will smile while dying to call Axel to tell him all about it.
Oh, and if you made it this far, just look at him: