Progress but not sex

Seems my posts are continually spaced further apart in time. Contrary to my lack of reporting there are a lot of sex positive things to journal to keep this blog remotely up to date.

One of the things Cheyenne and I firmly agreed one years ago was we both wanted to have more kink positive friends to socialize with. Recently, a local couple has been very warm and communicative with us both and Cheyenne as taken a liking to them, especially the wife. I’ve met the other husband for dinner and drinks and Cheyenne met wife over coffee. We have a couples dinner date for later this month planned that we all are looking forward to. So far conversation has been pretty rated G but there have been some fun exchanges that hint at stimulating conversation in our future. Regardless, its a great feeling to make new friends…wish it wasn’t such a rare experience.

For myself, I’ve continued to use my permission slip from Cheyenne to explore my sexuality with men only. There have certainly been some fun experiences; no regrets so far. The most interesting thing I’ve learned about myself is that I’m really not attracted to men. I think what men “do” is exciting, but I’m not turned on by men. I feel disappointed and a bit depressed that my options have narrowed so significantly without an obvious path to sexual balance.

A couple weeks ago I met a very nice Dom gentleman. We spent half our visit talking and sharing perspectives. It was extremely refreshing to have his perspective which was based on a healthy dose of life experience and a relentlessly kinky appetite. Perfect combo! We did end up playing. It was fun for sure, but more of an ice-breaker to physically validate our conversation. I’ve shared my sexual hopes and dreams with him as I tend to do with anyone who is genuinely interested. Of course, I’ve shared all of this with Cheyenne. Keeping Cheyenne up to speed is key for me because at the end of the day what I truly want is her involvement in my sexuality.

Lastly, as the icing on the cake, I’ve connected with yet another couple. A husband and wife who actively lead a femdom cuckold lifestyle. Most of my conversations were initially with the wife so I introduced Cheyenne to her and also reached out to her husband. Cheyenne loved the connection and with a short time Cheyenne was once again saying she was going to reach out to other men for experimentation. Amazing. She said having supportive girlfriends in the lifestyle makes it possible for her to see a path forward for herself.

Back again soon I promise. Cheyenne and I are headed out to Haulover beach for our last naked day in the sun this week. Oh the tattoos!

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Failure to connect

It’s been five years since I came out to Cheyenne as bisexual and kinky. In many ways we’ve come so far together. Sexually, there’s been complete acceptance with respect to all my kinky needs and sometimes confusing bisexual feelings. Glass half full.

So what’s the failure? The inescapable awareness that for all the progress we’ve made we’re dramatically less sexual and vulnerable to each other than ever before. There’s still a fun denial thread that we entertain once or twice a month and some fun and well timed dominant puns that keep me feeling that she remembers.

But inside I’m burning to feel connected to her sexually. For the first time I’m beginning to worry that the last five years is indicative of how things will be. I struggle with that. I’ve said, done, and introduced every possible thing, source, idea, and dynamic I could image would be helpful and yet all the progress we’ve made doesn’t feel like we’ve are enjoying our sexuality together. There’s more excitement between us when finding a binge worthy tv series.

The facts don’t leave me feeling very positive about myself and what I’m capable of in a relationship. I simply don’t know what else to do except resign and wait for another season in life which at 50 happens to raise awareness of mortality. I’m in a low point for sure, easily recognized by a lack of fresh ideas and optimism. I fantasize more about being objectified sexually by dominant men and woman than having needs of my own, a subversion of desire if you will. My subconscious is converting this failure to connect into a deeper darker kink than I imagined. More than ever I think about extricating my sexuality from my person… I’d be so much more at peace.

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The future is now

I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions. Ordinary life already feels like a series of goals webbing the weeks and months together without the need for an extra reference point. Chasing a little one around at 50 has an unusual way of bring awareness to one’s mortality. Feeling your mortality for the first time is an awakening than cannot (should not) be shed. This year there are a few topics gradually crystallizing in my mind as 2018 approaches. In no particular order:

My youngest is now 18 months old and with a few trips to the mountains and beaches in the US under his belt he’s certifiably a real adventurer ;). Really, he loves to get out and adventure as much as his parents and in the coming years I will embrace and nourish his zest for life to the best of my ability.

Life work instead of work-life. What’s different now is I can see for the first time how I want my life to look and feel. Not some fantasy of an ideal but tangible vision for what I need to feel alive and at peace with my future. I have a few very smart and bold individuals in my life to thank for leading by example and helping me to see how wonderfully life can be when setup properly. I see my work is a means to an ideal instead of the destination it’s been in the past. Seems simple but I’ve never felt the distinction like I now do. I’ve been tangled in that subtle detail for far too long, starved of the clarity to effectively form my future. In a nutshell, I will now create a life where the nucleus of “home” is in the relationships I cherish most regardless of location. My local footprint minimal, and my reach global.

Intimacy. Life with Cheyenne is getting a bit easier post pregnancy and post 14 months of sleep deprivation. Imagine that. Going forward, I will be looking for ways for us to rebuild displaced intimacy from the last two and a half years of pregnancy and post pregnancy trials. I’m not sure we lost anything in that time but our path to intimacy and vulnerability is I bit over grown and less welcoming than it could be.

Yesterday, I started talking to Cheyenne about our sex life. I shared that I had been reading a wonderful couples’ profile on Fetlife and was energized and envious of their ability to live into a fulfilling D/s/Femdom lifestyle while still managing all things vanilla. I told Cheyenne I want “that”. I really do. It’s been about five years since I came out as kinky and Cheyenne opened her mind to life with a kinky husband. Those years were filled with experimentation; searingly hot scenes, mind blowing orgasms. and huge tearful disappointments. We’ve successfully raised a toddler, three teens, juggled careers and been kinky at times. Going forward, I want to our kink to be a pillar of our relationship, not just a channel to flip on when convenient. I know I need to be the recipient of sexual dominance to feel balanced and complete. I want that dominance from Cheyenne and I know deferring it leaves me feeling unsettled in life. While talking yesterday about the Fetlife couple’s ability to live a femdom lifestyle she asked if I too wanted a femdom lifestyle? I emphatically said “yes”! How that understanding has eluded us so far is a complete mystery but I’m glad it’s clear now. Cheyenne says she likes the idea of being sexually dominant to me very much but struggles with how to begin. She recognizes she’s out of touch with a healthy dose of sexual selfish ability. We talked about what could help foster her sexual empowerment and she suggested a period of “suspension of belief” a period where we dispose of our past ways of relating sexually and build a completely new way of relating sexually. Leaving our past challenges behind us as we create and improve our way to a new empowered kinky reality.

Yes. 2018. Bring it on.

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POoV

PIV is out and POoV is the new norm. POoV defined as penis outside of vagina.

This seems to be the most popular D/s dynamic we’ve encountered to date. Cheyenne has been having more O’s from the penis desperately rubbing against her than from anything else in resent history. Half of the time she lets me try to come from continuing to rub against her, the other half she just rolls over and goes to sleep while my sexual frustration slowly dissipates into the darkness. Dreams of denial and bizarre cuckolding scenarios typically follow. Cheyenne also seems most empowered verbally from this kind of sex. Her teasing and taunting remarks while I’m desperately trying to come are aimed right at the cortex of my cuckold fantasy brain which in the moment is exactly the push needed to overcome the lack of soft wetness I need.

Cheyenne seems to think of this as a form of chastity without a device. She’s never really gravitated to the devices like I have so it’s fun to see a gravitation to the concept. I however need the bondage a device affords so I lock myself everyday. I thrive on the continuity of denial, persistent thoughts of being separated from the socialized obligations of traditional masculinity. Even unproven notions of sexual atrophy from a chastity device fuel the possibility that someday her orgasms will find other more satisfying means than my penis. Perhaps, she’ll now find her sexual power. Power to take what she wants when she wants it. That, I find exceptionally hot! Is some ways, its all happening right now for the first time.

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From the outside

My sex life the last couple months has been very different than others times during my relationship with Cheyenne. I’ve completely backed away from dating apps after hundreds of shallow chats amounting to “let’s fuck now” regardless of my profile preferences. There were only two people I ended up meeting for sex and only once per person. More on that later.

What’s different about sex with Cheyenne is she’s taken a liking to orgasms from my fingers while I rub my hard cock against her from behind. She likes the gentle touches from my fingers mixed with the escalating desperation of me trying to come from limited contact. It’s a hot scene for sure and so far we’ve both found the absence of PIV sex unusually rewarding bit for very different reasons. For me, kept from PIV feeds my denial fantasies. We discovered our new routine through slowly warming up to sex from our typical state of parental emotional depletion. It started with some gentle touches in the softest and warmest places that warmed to increasingly intimate and intentional body contact. Soon we were both within reach of orgasm. Hers came first as usual, but mine was far from certain because she hadn’t given me permission to come and the sensations of rubbing against her were unfamiliar for achieving orgasm. As my desperation built she told me I was allowed to come if I could. What put me over the edge was when she whispered to me that I wasn’t allowed inside her anymore. Those words pierced my mind and ricocheted down my spine slamming me into a most intense orgasm.

Since that first PIV shutout our sex hasn’t deviated much. A week ago I was becoming a bit worried if this was becoming another notch down in our sex life so I asked and was quickly reprimanded for not enjoying it. No vision was offered either. Last week while we were having POV sex, I almost slipped inside by accident and was sternly warned NOT to go inside. The comment was so uncharacteristically sharp that it caught me by surprise but edginess of being sharply controlled during sex sent me once again over the edge into a blissful orgasm. I’m not sure what to make of all this, what the point is, or where it’s headed but I’m certainly enjoying the control and denial. I’m also getting a lot of orgasms and freedom for a guy who arguably should be locked 24/7. What do I know?

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Utopia

I’m writing from an eleven hour solo flight from Tokyo to the Midwest. It’s nice to finally have the time to peck out a post from my phone. Lying here in the dark tapping away sleeplessly as I cross from late Saturday into early morning of the same Saturday somewhere over the Pacific. 

I’m returning from utopian Singapore. 10 days of working, eating, and sweating (it’s steam room humid). Loved Singapore. I’ve never seen a cleaner safer place in my life, even compared to Japan. I was initially creeped out by how non-threatening and passive everyone was first for few days after arriving. Was this a Soilent Green producing society!?! Can integrated societies actually be completely peaceful and safe? Turns out they can and they can flourish. Truthfully it was a nice break from mass shootings, racism, and rape culture. Oh, and let’s not forget Trump antics. Refreshingly, outside the US Trump is mostly second page material because the world is moving on regardless of the dumpster fires he starts. There are too many other big and exciting things going on elsewhere in the world. All jokes aside, Singapore is a beautiful place with kind gentle people of many ethnicities. Amazing architecture and culture. Crazy good food and drink all wrapped in an equatorial climate of humid sunny 80-90 degree days e-v-e-r-y day.

Sorry for the tangent, especially any political glances. What’s more relevant to this blog is Singapore, for all its goodness appears to be a sexless society. At least publicly. There are signs of stifled sexuality in the many “Thai discos” (google is your friend). Maybe there are some underground avenues to meet other kinksters but you’d want to be extra careful not to break one of the many “decency” laws. Singapore still actively employs the death penalty for drugs and public caning for relatively minor things like graffiti. Ah yes…public caning! A masochists delight. Not so fast. We’re not talking big red welts or a even a little blood. They cane so severely that just five strokes will remove all the skin from your ass. Way above my idea of a rewarding spanking.

Ah yes, back to rewarding spankings. I miss them. A couple months ago when I met the ProDomme I though the heavens had provided a path to all manners of kinky femdom pleasures but the light of hope had its oxygen sucked away from long work days and sleepless nights. Oddly, I’ve been feeling disconnected from my normal sexual self. As if sex has been extinguished from my senses. Maybe, like Singapore the sexual spark is still there behind an obscure door in an alley off the beaten path waiting to be opened again. 

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The safety of reality

This weekend Cheyenne took the little one out of town with her and left me alone for a rare day to do as I wanted with my time. Better yet, she scheduled a (my first) Pro Domme session to help enjoy my time. 

I knew about a week ahead I’d have the free time so started reaching out to various kinksters letting them know I’d have time to “meet”. Confirmation was quick from two guys I’ve wanted to meet. One a very big guy who specializes in fisting, the other a local guy who specializes in spanking men in every way imaginable. I’d met both guys before, spanked by the spanker A few times but hadn’t done anything sexual with the fister before. 

For the record the fister’s hands are “13 around. I was nervous about submitting to such a formidable Fist especially coupled with the gentle and persuasive personality he exudes. After a stiff drink (helped me to relax) I undressed and relinquished myself to the experience. The best and easiest way to describe the majority of being fisted is there’s a beginning which is much like an amazing massage… And… then there’s a peak where things get real and your whole body convulses in waves of *very* intense pleasure. His experience was obvious and present in every action and I felt safe through it all. It was also particularly fun that my penis was completely ignored and entirely irrelevant to him. I loved that and I loved that he would have preferred me without a penis if he could choose. Throughout the session he talked lightly about what it would be like to remain locked or without balls so my primary sexual organ would be my ass. That was a huge psychological spin for me and probably best part of it all. 

Afterwards, while driving home to prepare for the pro Domme session I was humbly hoping my ass would not be further worked over… (not entirely), I started to feel the whole experience with the fister missed a big mark. As fun and exciting as it was I felt a lack of physical connection. There was no charge for me in being with another man. It’s something I’ve noticed before with other men I’ve been with but always passed it off as they weren’t my type. The counter point was I might be emotionally broken and unable to feel the intimate connection I crave so much. The thing is, I know I can feel things with Cheyenne so I’m not necessarily broken. Then it hit me, the realization crystallized that I’m not turned on by male bodies. The things men like about men I’m turned on by in women, not men. Sadly, in that realization, I felt my sexual universe shrink a little but at the same become more focused. I learned something unexpected about my bisexual self. I’m turned on by sexual vulnerability regardless of gender. Sexual with men perhaps, more likely with some kind of female motivator or conduit. My primary and physical attraction is with women, strong dominant women. 

After arriving home to shower and prepare for my next date I was able to regroup and feel optimistic for a new experience one I’ve longed for! Surprisingly, I wasn’t at all nervous. Taking stock of myself I noticed again a lack of feeling. I wanted to be scared, full of butterflies and flustered but instead I felt disconnected as if I watching myself objectively. The numbness persisted on the drive to the PD’s location but immediately after meeting her I was back in the fun zone and full of hope. She seemed confident and easy to talk to. Earlier Cheyenne gave me instructions to hand deliver a small bag of items to the PD, inside the bag there was a camisole with matching panties, a pay envelope, my smallest Steelworxx chastity device, and an envelope to seal the key’s safe return to Cheyenne. Shortly after entering the dungeon I was bluntly ordered to undress. While undressing the PD lightly mocked me for not being hung. There was a light heartedness about it that was certainly her feeling out my tolerance. 

Prior to the session Cheyenne had shared a few of my kinks with the PD she thought would be fun to explore. Within minutes from disrobing I was quickly dressed back up in the camisole and panties, put into a skirt with absurdly high heals and made to walk around the room while trying not to sprain an ankle! It was all quite silly but I was having fun laughing at the spectical of it all. The edginess of being told I’d never again walk too fast when my wife was in heels gave the whole sharade meaning. 

The rest of the session was mostly a game of Q and A where if I answered incorrectly my penis was shocked with an industrial strength violet wand connected to various metal implements. No joke. Took me longer than it should have to realize the PD didn’t care about truth 😉 shame on me. The session wound down with me blindfolded as the PD asked questions to learn what arroused me followed by shocking my erections back into submission. Totally hot. This last part feeling her probing my mind felt hopeful that she would eventually get to me and create something emotionally intense. I kept wanting to hit the pause button to tell her what I really wanted but instead, followed along as instructed. Just before leaving to comply with Cheyenne’s request she locked my electrocuted penis into the Steelworxx and sent me off with the key sealed for Cheyenne. 

Cheyenne and I had a date planned for the afternoon one last fun romp for the day that we ended missing because, well, real life was suddenly back dousing the flames of passion so diligently planned for. The rest of the night was pretty routine except a quick play by play of my dates but not a mention of my chastity. Out of sight out of mind I suppose. It was all over and done in a flash except I’m still locked with no explaination or expectation.

Never made it to the spanker. At the time I was content looking forward to my date with Cheyenne. As news of a nightmare return trip home with a screaming toddler dribbled in from the road I focused my efforts on a clean home and getting all chores completed so Cheyenne could arrive  home and just relax. 

I want to return to the PD. I hopefull next time I get to feel the power she advertises, that she’ll get into my mind and play with my feelings until I doubt the safety of my reality because that’s what I need to feel alive. 

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Rip tide

The first quarter of 2017 was filled with unprecedented new experiences and fresh openness when TheMrs gave me freedom to experiment sexually outside our marriage. I’ve been relatively unsuccessful finding a good match with past efforts but work and family have been the highest priority since Cheyenne got pregnant and not much has gotten easier with a 1 year old that doesn’t like to sleep.

Since April I’ve been out of chastity with the exception of a handful of desperate attempts to build subby momentum from self locking. Sex has been scheduled for every other weekend when we have a sitter and we live for those few decadent hours together. Inside I’m craving to feel fully sexually engaged but the relentless waves of 60 hour work weeks and sleepless nights surpress most of my natural resilience and drive. Ironically, opportunity is all but gone now that the will and permission exists.  

Things are not so dire though. While Cheyenne and I have been limited in our physical interaction, we’ve made progress in communication and have regular conversations about having a mutual boyfriend. We’ve also been reading a fair amount on the topic of open marriages. “The Ethical Slut”, “Opening Up”, “Mating in Captivity” are all excellent books that I can highly recommend. Reading them together with Cheyenne has made for a natural access point to begin talking openly on such a potentially charged topic. It helps to have well reasoned and educated viewpoints to reflect our own feelings against. 

My boyfriend on the side search has been pretty unsuccessful (one date) because the majority of my interactions have been from gay dating apps of which an unsurprising majority of guys aren’t interested in a hetero-romantic bi guy, and the ones I’ve encountered so far tend to be cavalier about safe sex. Fair enough, but not my risk profile. I’ll save the good stuff for a fluid bonded relationship. So the hunt continues on other fronts for a kind, sexual, healthy, active, outdoorsy guy who’s looking for a married couple to build a relationship with. Someone who’s equally comfortable with men and women and not hung up on relationship stereotypes. 

On the surface my sex life looks pretty flat, punctuated but a semi monthly wave of strapon pounding and fun uninhibited chat. Underneath, there’s a strong steady pull towards a bigger, more open understanding of love and sex developing. 

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The right dose

It’s been three months since I spent almost four months in a chastity device. Cheyenne told me to lock up and advised I settle in until she felt otherwise. 

I regularly prodded her resolve for how long I’d be locked, secretly hoping I’d hear something along the line of “forever” accompanied with a replete list of reasons my penis was no longer needed. Ooh yes I wired that way. The response was usually a very matter of fact “a long time” – no embellishment.  I recall around month two feeling settled and comfortable being locked, that it was preferable and more purposeful than unlocked and denied through default of circumstances. 
Finally being released was both amazing and a little like what a long term inmate must feel like when reentering society… lost and confused.  I hastily reacquainted myself with the security and emptiness of old habits. 

But the reason I’m writing today is ive been contemplating locking myself between what has become bi-monthly sex dates with Cheyenne. That’s right, every two weeks we have 3 hours of privacy to have the best sex we can muster. It’s awesome. The other 333 hours I feel like an parolee addict on a street of crack houses. Oh, that’s pretty harsh. More like a highly sexual man, husband, and father of a gaggle of kids who works 55 hour weeks. Better. Back to being self locked between dates, it seems like a great idea but not when comfort sets in at the two month mark. I wonder if chastity can ever be short term again or if it will always be in ever increasing doses of time.  Judging from the wet spot between my legs it’s also a turn on to consider. 

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Dark and dirty me

My interest in writing to this blog has waned tremendously over the past several months mostly due to life forces requiring most, if not all my time and energy. With a major career change solidifies and months of sleep deptevation married to13 hour days normalizing I’m feeling the green shoots of my sexuality bubbling back to life.

The recent difficult period has been as hard, or harder on Cheyenne too and it’s far from clear how much inhibition has coagulated in our sexual arteries from lack of practice. I feel (qualifying my feelings as a purely subjective measure) all the sexy things we’ve done, I’ve shared as desires, or things we’ve agreed were possible have been shut down by either circumstance or disinterest.

In this environment of sexual isolation a  feedback loop has developed between my inability to satiate desire and new edgy ideas. It begins as mentally stimulation and evolves into rich devilishly delicious masturbation material. Allowed to evolve in the isolation and darkness of my own mind my sexual thoughts and fantasies take a turn for dark and more intense scenarios. I’m not ashamed by any of it, in fact, I quite enjoy the prospects of intense vulnerability the material might generate in the light of day and play.

The challenge seems to be as always being Genuinely Hapa in the face of contradicting circumstances.

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