Always needing more

Earlier today, I posted this to Twitter.

And in reply, was asked this…

And…I couldn’t reply there. Needed more characters and words. So, here we are.

First, when I’m penetrating myself with a dildo, I like to watch. Usually using a hand mirror or my phone. And therefore, I am constantly reminded (because it’s always in the way) that there’s a locked and useless penis on me. It’s not any part of the action and, while getting fucked, I have little to zero interest in it. Never really have. I was always the kind of guy who, when I had an available penis, went totally soft while being fucked — I don’t really understand how guys can be hard or jack off while getting plowed (honestly, I should have known what a bottom I was all along). But now, it’s impossible not to juxtapose the prominent and substantial thing penetrating me against the locked and inconsequential object being kept out of sight that it’s meant to mimic.

So, “Does riding it drive home how small yours is kept?” Well, yes. But it’s not just a size thing. It’s a position thing. It’s about my natural role. The locked penis can’t compete with the dildo at all, but the reason is it’s like comparing a Lamborghini to a cuttlefish. They’re meant for different purposes. The penis’ purpose is to inhabit a tight constraint. That’s it. Which is to say, it has no purpose. Other than when Belle wants me to use it on her.

Regarding the “might be as good as it feels for Belle” part, I have pondered this aspect of nature we share. We both like penetration. We both want to be fucked. I can get fucked by what I need any time I can finagle the time and privacy. For her, we need Joe. Because the penis is inadequate to the task and wearing her strap-on gives me the confidence I need to perform and pleasure her. I get the need to be fucked in a way a lot of husbands (most husbands) just wouldn’t.

And that need has been building all through this quarantine period. I don’t always want to be fucked but when I do get the urge I get it bad. And I’ve had it bad for about a week now. Woke up after a second fitful night of sleep filled with horny thoughts and continued to feel the urge even after my morning run. So, even though I’m at home with my wife and kid, I decided I had to get a big cock inside me.

I waited for Belle to finish in the bathroom and get on her first Zoom call of the day. It was an opportune moment when she was distracted and the kid was still asleep. I grabbed my “medium-sized” dong from its drawer and snuck it into the bathroom. “Snuck” because I really didn’t want Belle to know or have to think about her husband riding a big fat cock while she was trying to work twenty feet away.

Before going to town on it, I trimmed the hair around my hole. I find it interferes with the lubrication and ease of insertion and I had let it go for too long. Seeing myself pucker and flex as I trimmed and shaved around it made me even more horny for a fuck.

The dildo I chose is the perfect balance between challenging and pleasurable. It’s not nearly the biggest one I have but I also knew I didn’t have all the time in the world. I lubed all 8″ of its length (and 7.25″ of circumference) and squatted down, lining it up with my hole, then pushed. The big head popped in and, without stopping to catch my breath, I kept going. It felt so good. It was what I needed. So badly.

I worked it in and out letting my ass get used to it. I fucked myself with it with its balls forward, as if taking it from behind, then rotated it inside me so its balls face backward, as if I was on my back. Each angle feels distinctively pleasurable it pushed into different parts of me. I shivered as its flared head popped back and forth over my prostate.

After several minutes, and just as I was getting good and loose and getting it inside me up to its balls, my phone rang. The vet. The dogs had just been in for their annuals and there had been tests and results and as I spoke to her, I kept the dildo inside me. Gently moving my hips and flexing my thighs as if being slowly fucked by a lover while listening, trying to not sound as if what was happening was actually happening.

At some point, I just sat on it. Letting it get buried as deeply into my guts as possible. My hole twitched as it opened as far as the fattest end of the dildo required. I could see and feel leakage from the end of the Steelheart. Could smell my ejaculate that would forever remain a noun, never a verb. The somewhat sad remnants of the parts I was physically if not emotionally equipped with.

Finally, the consult was over. I thanked the vet and looked at the time. Too late to use the dildo any longer, I let it slip heavily out of me. And immediately replaced it with with a metal butt plug. The one still inside me as I write this. The one I feel as I grind my ass into this chair.

Unf. Fucked but still needing more. Story of my life.

I miss him

We’re getting dangerously close to it being a year since I last saw Frodo. That was in June and May is just a shake of a rabbit’s tail away. He and I FaceTimed last week. It hurts me how much I miss him. How much I crave him.

In January, we were supposed to go diving in Florida. I got super sick (tested positive for influenza A) and couldn’t go. We were supposed to reschedule. We haven’t because we can’t. Who knows when things will be normal enough for that again.

It’s always been the case that Frodo is supremely easy for me to talk to. No matter how long it’s been, we just fall back into it. We know each other so well. He’s my oldest friend.

Have I mentioned how much I miss him? So much.

Sometimes, when I should be sleeping, I’m thinking instead about his cock. His cock in my throat. His orgasm in my mouth. Him using me. Even now, just writing that, causes intense compression inside the steel. If I’m honest, he’s always had that affect on me. Since freshman year of high school. Almost 40 years. I’m just…smitten.

God I miss him.

I’ve written here and over on the other blog the truth of the situation. I just don’t want him to use me and fuck me and take his pleasure from me. I love him. But we don’t say it to one another. He knows how I feel. He knows because he’s read what I’ve written about him. He knows because I can’t hide it. And I know because of how much pain it causes me to be away from him this long. This isn’t just lust.

I miss him. And I love him.

I wish I could see him now. To be held by him. Pushed gently onto my knees by him. Press my face against the growing hardness inside his jeans. Smell him though the fabric. Moaning. Yearning. Craving.

I miss him. I love him. I need him.

Frodo’s rules

Not so long ago, I asked Frodo if he would accept my submission in a more formal way. Not just generally when we were having sex, but to elevate it to a central part of our friendship. Or…whatever kind of “ship” it is we have. I have such strong feelings for him and those translate into a deep desire to submit to him. This conversation is always a delicate and nervous thing for a sub to do, I think, especially when the person the sub is offering up their submission to doesn’t identify as a dominant and really wasn’t looking to do so.

In any event, I’m quite pleased to say he was on board with the idea. There were some rules (and there’s nothing a fucking sub likes better than rules). One, I am to call him Sir. He’s the only person I call Sir. No one else gets that but him. Two, I am to send him a picture of myself every morning in which he can see my body. Preferably I will be naked but minimally without a shirt. I have to admit I have failed to be as consistent with that one as I need to be. My recent bout with the flu and pneumonia really threw me off my horse. Finally, I can only sub to another man with his permission.

And that’s where Drew comes in. We don’t see each other that much, but the last time we did was delicious and would have been better had he not had (unknowingly) a broken foot. But with this new exchange of power with Frodo, doing that in the future would need prior clearance. Also, Drew likes to boss me around virtually and that would have been subbing without permission. So I asked Frodo what he thought. Could I have sex with Drew? Could I sub to him?

He took several days to answer. This is, I’ve found, part of his authority technique. He tells me what he thinks after consideration and on his time. I wait. There’s an easy formality to how he deals with me and I like it. A gentle but firm hand. Like the one he put on my thigh while driving last time I saw him. Swoon. In any event, he got back to me after a while. He had one rule.

Drew could not fuck me. The only cock Frodo wants inside me is his. He may decide at some point to share me with another dominant as that’s a fantasy of his, but that’s in the future. For now, only one cock goes in my ass. Drew can do anything else with my ass (toys, appendages, etc.), but no cock. I passed that along to Drew for consideration and he accepted the limitation.

Then this morning I got further conditions from Frodo. This is what he sent me…

I realized that I don’t want him to fuck you in part because I don’t want his cum inside you. So, I don’t want you to swallow it, either. I want that level of intimacy to be reserved to me.  

And…contented sigh. I replied back…

Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir. That makes me feel very special and valued. Thank you. 

Drew is OK with that, too. I can still give him head, but he’d have to stop short of shooting in my mouth.

I think this is a fine arrangement, to be honest. Drew is a legitimate sadist and Frodo isn’t. I’m a total masochist and crave the kind of sensations Drew craves to inflict upon me. Our attempts to integrate higher levels of D/s into our relationship have always gone badly but having the anchor of Frodo being my true male dominant makes that feel somehow easier now. Hard to explain. But in any event, the boundaries put in place by Frodo make our interactions feel more defined and, for me anyway, less fraught with the potential to disappoint him. I am loathe to disappoint my sexual superiors.

So, in the nesting doll of my submission, Belle is on top. She holds the key and controls the penis and what I do with it. Frodo comes next and has dictated what I can do with my other side and even my mouth. Drew is after that and, especially when we’re together, will be able to enjoy our complementary interests in my discomfort.

In our conversations about all this, I asked Frodo (who is a regular user of cruising apps) if he’d share with me details of when he fucked other guys. It should be no surprise to anyone reading this who’s even passingly familiar with my blogs that the idea of him being able to fuck whoever he wants whenever he can and me only being allowed to accept his cock in my ass has pushed every single submissive button I have. Turns out, he had fucked a guy the night before. Lean, young, blond, muscular. Hearing this made me very tight. I can’t wait for him to fuck another guy soon.

I find that thinking about that doesn’t make me jealous. Of course not. I don’t have that kind of claim or authority. But it does make me want to jump him and ride his cock and do literally anything else he wants to show how I should be his favorite bottom. I want to earn my place on his cock.

Frodo and I were supposed to be together earlier in the month but my flu and pneumonia kept that from happening. We’re trying to find a new date that works. Belle is enthusiastically in support of this. I have a wonderful life right now and I’m fully aware of it.

The hole thing

Drew related to me today that someone on Recon asked him, “Why does Thumper need something up his ass?” Which is…an odd question. Why does anyone need anything they like? Why do they like it? What’s the meaning of life? Why is the sky blue?

There’s the obvious physiological explanation. The prostate gland is highly sensitive and a lot of men find its stimulation to be pleasurable. For a denied man, the prostate is made even more sensitive because it’s typically swollen with frustration. There are also a lot of nerves all over that region (the opening of the anus is not unlike the opening of the mouth in terms of sensitivity) and some of us are wired and/or trained to find pleasure from sensations there. Carrying a plug is nothing like being fucked, though. Someone who likes the feeling of a plug in their ass finds that pressure and weight to be pleasurable. Why? I dunno.

Some guys can’t find a way to enjoy ass play. In fact, not even all gay men like ass play. Some have zero interest in it and never integrate their holes into sex. I think that’s probably psychological, but I suspect some men may also have differently wired nerve endings. We’re all special snowflakes, etc.

Some guys are into depth play. Being fucked deeply. There are toys specifically designed to penetrate a long way. Other guys (like me) are more about girth and stretch. I get off on the feeling of being opened up and I’m more into that aspect than how deeply something goes inside me. Depth for me is more a function of girth in that toys tend to get thicker towards their base.

But again, plugs are different. And I like the WMCBP in particular because they’re big, heavy, and yet relatively really easy to leave in for a long time because they have very thin “necks.” The XXXL plug, for example, is 8″ around. That’s almost as big as a Coke can. It weight more than two pounds. There are days when that feels like it’s going to split me but there are also days when I wish it was bigger and heavier. That’s what I like and appreciate. It’s a weighty load. But it barely holds my hole open because of the thin tube that connects to the plug’s base.

Beyond all that, my submissive nature needs to be taken into account as well. I have a need to be dominated and controlled. And one way that plays out is Drew’s current control over my ass. This morning, for example, I wasn’t inclined to carry. I just didn’t feel like it. I was almost out of the house with an empty ass when Drew asked me what I was carrying today. He expects I’m carrying every day. So while I didn’t really feel like it, I put the WMCBP Rattler in anyway. It was one he specifcally said he wanted me to carry this week so it’s in now.

So another reason I “need” something up my ass is I crave domination and being forced to put something there is a way that can manifest. You either get that (Dom/sub dynamics, etc.) or you don’t. You either understand how comforting it can feel being locked in front and plugged in back or you don’t.

So…yeah. Because I like it. Because I need it. I crave the expectation. Physical, emotional, mental. A big, complicated ball of reasons. That’s why.

Drawn to Drew

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.

Weekend by the lake, Part 4

I think what woke me the next morning was the sound of his piss. It’s a sound I’ve really grown to appreciate. A man’s heavy stream of urine, forcefully expelled from his body and striking the surface of the water in a toilet bowl. That’s not me anymore. It’s not a thing I can do. I can’t make that sound.

Whatever the case, the grogginess left me quickly. This was our last morning and we didn’t get him off the night before. There was unfinished business. These holes weren’t going to fuck themselves.

It didn’t take long. He was on me again, cock back inside. Some bottoms just know when they’re ready. I felt that I was and I was. There wasn’t any getting used to his big dick that morning. Just shoved it right back in there and started to pump. He tried me on my stomach with a pillow under my hips for a bit but eventually flipped me over on my back and took me from the front.

His fucking wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t doing it for me. He was doing if for him. It was selfish. And the more he did it, the more he bent my body. The harder he drove into me. Eventually, my feet were up by his ears and I was bent almost all the way over but that’s the position he really wanted and all I wanted was exactly what he wanted and to keep feeling his cock fuck me ragged.

Oh, Jesus, he went to town. He POUN. DED. MY. ASS. SO. GOOD. And my whimpers and moans mixed with his grunts and panting and I was very aware the window to our room was open and I could hear the sounds of fellow travelers outside.

Again, he was covered in sweat. I was so open and entirely his. But again, it wasn’t going to happen. Not like that. He was still spent. Still recovering. He fucked me beautifully and selfishly and he left me a simpering puddle, but it wasn’t a puddle of his seed.

He got up to get ready to leave. I watched him move around the room. His lean figure, olive complexion, and all that hair. Not a bit of it cut or trimmed below his neck. Total man. While I freak out if my pubes grow longer than a third of an inch and even shaved my hole nice and smooth for him, he doesn’t seem to think anything of being exactly who and what he is. I said before he reminds me of a 70’s man and he does. Like from a cigarette ad, but not one of those outdoorsy types. More a city man. Erudite and refined, but but without artifice.

We showered and dressed. I was in my typical fussy and fancy underwear (I think it was the sheer green camo pair with the neon green trim) while he was putting on some maroon pair of Hanes or some shit like that he got from Target. I don’t say that to be critical. It’s so perfectly in keeping with who he is. Why wear that stupid expensive stuff I have when his come in a three pack and work just as well? Men like him — real men — don’t think about such silly things. His sexiness comes from somewhere else, not underwear. It’s incredibly endearing and just thinking about those ugly maroon briefs makes my chest swell with an aching need to see him again.

We had just about finished packing and getting ready. I had even removed and packed the Steelheart in anticipation of air travel (of course, not so he could see anything — and he showed little interest) when he showed me his cock again.

“Want to kiss it goodbye?”

[Homer drool face]

“Then get on your knees and kiss it.”

I dropped instantly and inhaled his still-soft meat. I adore the feeling of flaccid cock in my mouth. The way it stiffens and lengthens and grows so it won’t fit anymore. Soon, I was giving Frodo another energetic blow job. He once again sat down on the chair and pulled my shirt off, feeling my shoulders and back, though my pants had to stay on since the penis was free. I knelt before him, cock in mouth, worshipful.

I mean, how many ways can I write about blowing him? How many ways can I express the feeling of purpose and joy giving him that pleasure brings me? My place in life is right where I was. On my knees. Giving pleasure. Taking only what reflects off the focus of my attention. And my attention at that moment consisted entirely of Frodo’s cock of my dreams.

And suddenly, that “innocent” kiss had turned into a surging cock filling my throat again with hot ejaculate. That’s what Frodo wanted all along, apparently. A mouth willing to accept his gift. To swallow it whole. To make that part of him part of me.

I didn’t want it to end. All that morning, at breakfast, in the car, driving. I didn’t want it to end. It was magical.

I wrote over on my other blog about how grateful I am. Grateful to Frodo. Grateful to Belle. Grateful to a universe that allows these two people to exist and appreciate me for who I am. I said,

There is no limit to love. It is not a finite resource. It’s renewable. It’s bottomless. Our capacity for love is only contained by our lack of imagination and our petty jealousies and insecurities. I am the luckiest fucking rabbit in the world to find myself in this place and there isn’t a moment I don’t realize that.

I don’t know when I’ll see Frodo again. We’ve sketched out some plans, but they’re not firm. Until that time comes, I’ll have to be content re-reading these words about that weekend by the lake.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Weekend by the lake, Part 3

We whiled away the afternoon partaking in the adorable little town’s amenities. It was, to be sure, quaint as fuck. But this isn’t a travelogue and you’re all like blah blah blah cute town whatever so I’ll cut to the chase.

We arrived back in the room after dinner and Frodo, quite understandably, was tuckered out. We stripped and got into bed and…watched the Food Network. I was doing my best to be good and follow the “sex is not for me” mantra, but he’s so yummy. He announced he was turning in and it seemed like that was going to be that.

But that was not that. What it was was some nice kissing (though, at this point, his stubble was really ripping my face up). I could have left it at a peck. But I might have leaned in a bit. The nice kissing led to him kneading and groping my muscles and that led to me climbing up on top of him and that led to him getting a raging boner. Oh, and did I mention how terribly I wanted a fuck?

Frodo was rubbing the head of his cock up and around my ass crack. I was writhing like the slutty bitch I am. But I was also nervous in that very special way only a committed bottom can be.

“I want to fuck you, Thumper.” Husky, breathy, and lustful.

“Mmmm, I want you to fuck me, Frodo. So badly,” I whined and nibbled at him.

It’s just a fact that having your ass fucked is not as straightforward as all the porno leads one to believe. And it had been several hours since I prepared myself. As much as I wanted to let nature take its course, sometimes its course is awful so I had to put the breaks on for a quick check.

“I’ll be right back…” and I sprung off him, grabbed my kit, and closed myself in the bathroom. Luckily, everything was still in fighting shape and I was back on top of him only a few minutes later, this time with a bottle of silicone lube.

I gave him the lube. He squirted a bit on his hand and rubbed it on his cock. Then he ran his lubed fingers up my crack. They were rough, both in texture and action. I shivered. There was no reason for this to be gentle. He knew it. And I needed this. Deep in my soul was a Frodo’s cock-sized void. It has been there for three and half decades. He knew that, too.

Still on top, I lined his shaft up with my hole and leaned back. I pushed to open my sphincter and slid all the way down as his cock pushed inside me. I am quite positive I moaned or deeply sighed or something but all I remember is thinking, WHY DOES HE HAVE TO LIVE SO FAR AWAY!?

I worked up and down his pole, feeling it slide in and out and force me open. I had very deliberately left my ass alone for more than a week before this trip so it’d be as tight as possible. So he could make it solely his. Imprinted to his shape. I arched my back as far as I could and leaned away from him to bury his manhood as far into me as possible.

Oh. My. God.

There’s that scene in Young Frankenstein. I’m sure we’ve discussed it before. The one where the Monster takes Madeline Kahn in the forest for the first time and she belts out, “Oh, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you…” Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.

I think Frodo was letting me drive in order to grow used to him inside me, but once that was done, he took over. Up on my hands and knees first, pumping hard. Then with my face in the mattress and my ass in the air, his firm hands on my back pushing me down and getting the angle of invasion just right. Every thrust of his hips was just that much harder as he built his head of steam.

When he wanted a new position, he moved me around like the fuck toy I am and I willingly obeyed his every direction, even the unspoken ones. I could sense and feel his needs though my hole and my ass as he shifted his weight for better penetration and how he gripped my shoulders or my neck. Before long, he was pounding me freely, covered in a sheen of sweat as my breath was torn from me and the weight between my legs rocked back and forth.

But he was very tired. And it was late. And no pliant positioning of my ass could find the path for him to come again. He pulled his dick out of me and kneeled between my legs. His hands were back on my ass, feeling it. Perhaps admiring it. His fingers pushed inside me. One, then two. He twisted them, feeling the slick looseness he created. I whimpered and purred. Then he fell back, exhausted.

My entire body was electrified. I had never been more awake in my life. All the nerves in all the tingly places were firing and my balls felt tight and engorged. I wanted to take him back in my mouth right then and suck him off until the sun burned out. But he was done. I had to be content with spooning into him, inert steel pressed into his ass.

And then we talked. For a long time, he humored me. We talked about our lives, from long before and ever since. Our families. Our careers. And that’s when it hit me. I didn’t just love getting fucked by Frodo. I didn’t just love his cock. I loved him. Romantically. And I always had.

Finally, he could keep himself awake no longer. I realized my side of the conversation was dominating and he was down to replying “mmm-hmm” and “yeah” and I may have been a horned up jackrabbit wanting more dick, but I’m not an idiot. I let him go. He was asleep almost instantly.

I was definitely not. Denial can make sleep hard to begin with. “Just got fucked” denial is the worst. I laid there and looked at my phone then put it down and closed my eyes and then looked at the phone again. Eventually, I don’t even know how much later, I did drift off to a fitful sleep. Every time I turned in bed, the heft between my legs would shift and wake me up. I was intensely aware of being locked. Of feeling the residual lube in my ass. Of that freshly fucked feeling.

Literally everything was distracting.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 4