What Do You Do With A Pussy?

Once in a while I encounter a glimpse or even an explicit picture of the female anatomy that rules my life. It has to be in context. For example, an explicit picture of a pussy in your face, spread for all to see,  may under some circumstances be enticing. Most often it causes me an overload. Not that I actually encounter this often. OK, at least, not in person.

Men are wired to do things with female parts. If you are a man, and you don’t have an impulse to do something, then you are on one side of the spectrum versus the other. I am on the side that reacts with great appreciation and anticipation. I want to do things with female parts. The spectrum is multi-dimensional.

Sight is one of the dimensions. Certain views get my juices going. However, I like things in context. For example, I love to see a female bottom from any angle, from all angles. If possible, I like to see the full figure. Seeing the picture of a disembodied pussy, for example, to me, is little more than seeing a picture of one of those artificial vaginas no matter how realistic. There is no right or wrong here, it is a matter of preference. We will overlap in preferences, but we should never expect agreement on the details. These details are based on our early experiences, and will not go away. Mine are for voluptuous thighs. Of course, other parts are also welcome to any degree. Like I said, all in context.

Another dimension is smell. It is very basic. I can remember smells from when I was five years old. Smells are penetrating to my core. When I encounter MW early in the morning I search all her beautiful parts for rewarding scents emanating from her loveliness. I am usually satisfied with the result. She is clean, but several hours of sleep past a shower. Her natural scents give me reinforcement of her female charm. The taste of her skin, the scents under her arms, the wonderful warm place between her breasts, and the musky aroma in the vicinity of her nether lips have enslaved me forever.

Another dimension of appreciation is what she does with her charms. After wielding her looks, her scents, there is her power over me in dominance. As much as I prefer submitting to her, or a woman of her caliber, I admit that I could submit in almost any scenario to any woman. I am getting into fantasy here, so don’t take what I say literally under the circumstances.

Let’s say that I prefer very clean well-endowed females of a certain wide age range. Submitting to her would be easy. Next, let’s consider a female out of the above stated limits. For example, she is older, thinner, had not showered in the last few hours, etc. If she did the right thing in using what she has, I think that I would not have a chance fighting my way out of her charms. I would succumb.

Let’s get back to what I would prefer to do with a pussy. My first impulse is to plant my face on this precious part of female anatomy and enjoy the scents (this works even when she is wearing clothes). My eyes, if not blindfolded, are essentially useless at that close range, so I rely on my nose and tongue. My nose has already given me the jab to proceed by all means, so I can’t wait to include my tongue in the process. Oh my! The flavors are to die for. My lips get into the act, and I am totally immersed in pleasure.

Adding still another dimension is the feel of her thighs, hips, ass, legs, arms, or breasts while my tongue and nose are busy getting me off on her pleasure.

I don’t mean to get weird here, but in a Freudian sense it may be associated with my birth. In a way it is a primal memory.

I don’t mean to say that I never want to do penetrating sex with other than my tongue. Holy cow, I do, very much! Just that, my first impulse in treating a pussy is to give the owner pleasure using my tongue. If I succeed with that, whether or not I get mine is like dessert: optional.

Chastity Control With Pain

Well, maybe not on purpose, but chastity devices do come with pain. Regardless of the type, from time to time, pain of the wearer is involved. Does the key holder know? Does she care? Would she cause the pain on purpose?

There is an inherent flaw in the design of the devices generic to the CBX000 and the like. The flaw is the need to keep the balls separated from the cock making sure that no parts can be withdrawn. Regardless of what configuration one selects, one problem may be alleviated, but another will be created. No pair of balls and cock are the same, and no such set will behave the way another would. No two individuals feel the same about the confinement. The conclusion is, you should not expect the CBX000 to fix your problems without causing its own problems. In addition to the generic flaw, there are flaws in the manufacturing process, such as cracks, and protuberances.


When a keyholder decides to incarcerate her submissive in such device, she may not know the implications at first. Aside from all the hype and testimonials of how it makes men docile and more willing to serve, there are other issues. The issues range from vindictive and purposefully cruel application of the device to benign orgasm control with passion for the poor schmuck who is the recipient.

I have gone through some bad experiences wearing them, and I am sure that MW has no idea how it felt. I did tell her some of it, but, as you know, “You just had to be there,” as such. MW is not cruel, and I don’t think that she would make me wear such device if it really caused me obvious harm or extreme pain. But then there is moderate pain. I, as a submissive to her, should expect to bear at least moderate pain from time to time. The CBX000 never caused continuous pain, but it did cause more than moderate pain from time to time. I never complained, although I was close to doing so many times.

Should I have complained? Should I have been subjected to such pain only for fun when MW was not even aware of my condition?

In a way I think that I should shut up and put up. I did sign up to this relationship, and I got some of what I asked for. If it is more than I expected, maybe it is something that goes with the territory. I get some joy, I should get some pain also. As much as I would love to, I should not expect MW to feel everything that I feel, especially the pain.

I am probably being a sissy complaining about this. Still, I would prefer a chastity device that would simply keep me chaste, but would not get too much in the way in other respects. I have done some research. During the course I have seen quite a variety of devices along with testimonials and evaluations. Mostly because of the expense we have not tried them. After all we could spend thousands of dollars and barely sample the available devices.

There are the belt type devices that purport to be escape proof and yet comfortable. It may be so, but then issues with personal hygiene and key holder involvement come up.

The devices that rely on a Prince Albert piercing almost assure chastity, such as Miss Lori’s excellent products. But they come with their own problems of ill-fit. In my case, my little guy varies in size from miniscule to huge in both length and girth depending on temperature and provocation. Given that, almost any device that is supposed to fit over it would be only part time fitting. There is no way that I can give accurate and correct measurement to order the device.

There is the one that uses a penetrating part to keep one chaste, but that too, is reliant on sizing, so there is a problem from time to time, unless it is used only for play under some benign circumstances.

Should I expect painless control? Or should I expect pain to be part of chastity for my Mistress Wife?

If You Can't Take A Joke ...

In my Army days we used to have a solution to a potentially disintegrating personal relationship among ourselves. We would say, “If you can’t take a joke, f*** you.” It was meant with all the warmth and camaraderie that we possessed, and meant no more than a dismissal of another person’s taking offense at a rib or a joke. We lived hard, we joked hard, and we had hard fun.

I have always promoted satire as a way to offer humor, and yet convey an underlying meaning. Jokes and satire are successful only when based on reality. As a consequence, some people who consider themselves the butt of the joke or the object of the satire can’t live with it. Well, satire hurts only when it hits home, otherwise it is funny … sort of. After all, there is wry humor. Some people just cannot take a joke, and even worse, cannot tolerate satire. That is sad, for much of satire is of political nature, and politics are fun.

A person made a comment on my previous post, he said,

“This must be the dumbest thing I've read in a long time. I hope this article was satire. If not, you were very irresponsible in all your assertions as they were all spin jobs. Hence, maybe you shouldn't mix looney neocon politics with a fetish blog. Although, considering the history of neoconservative politicians in the last eight years, I suppose neocon polotics and fetish go hand in hand..ex-Senator Craig and ex-Rep Marc Foley can attest to that, as they know all about it.”

I did not let the above become a comment on the post, because, I did not want to embarrass the person by allowing his ID to be associated with it. However, because his comment had such passion, I felt that it should be aired, so here it is.

This post was indeed satirical. It did not present real scenarios, but situations based on currently very real scenarios. The comment about “…you shouldn't mix looney neocon politics with a fetish blog”, well, who makes the rules? You, the reader, or I?

This person was disappointed because I had not provided enough fetish as expected. Instead of fetish, I provided some thought provoking ideas. This is not a fetish blog. However, even if it were a fetish blog, I could post anything I wanted as long as what I am writing is not illegal or slanderous. I am not promoting harm to any person. I am not fomenting discontent with any person, organization, or entity. I am making comments. This is my turf. If you cannot contain your reaction to my writing, I suggest you start your own and try to counteract what you see here.

I have written on many subjects, and may continue to do so. I have nothing against politics or any other subject. I can elaborate on and debate any subject unless it requires distinct and expert knowledge outside of my field, such as quantum physics, etc. Comments are welcome as long as they are civil. One can disagree without resorting to bad manners.

Those of us who follow current events, national and global politics and trends, will have opinions on them. If your opinion differs from mine I don’t consider you a lesser person because of it. I don’t expect that everyone will see things my way in politics or in the basic charter of this blog, “Female Led Relationship”. I am vocal about all that. Let’s discuss the subjects, rather than take offense and react inappropriately.

It is also proper to share certain beliefs and attributes, yet disagree on others. That is what makes interacting with people interesting.

The Anti-Aging Initiative

A few months ago I paid tribute to My Patriotic Friend. He is still around, and keeps writing in his ornery acerbic style when it comes to the foolishness of our elected representatives. The following is one of his tongue-in-cheek spoofs but with a bite.

After years of studying data on Medicare recipients it has been determined that aging is a major cause of death by far while wasting a lot of medical care on those who would die anyway.

Whereas Medicare is essentially defunct, and that today’s, tomorrow’s, and (the day after tomorrow’s) earnings will be heavily taxed to pay for it, an effective way has to be found to reduce the cost. It is already known that the newly proposed National Health Care plan will not have the funds to bail out Medicare. Therefore, an Anti Aging Tsar has been appointed by the benevolent, omniscient, and omnipotent leader.

The charter of this Anti Aging Tsar is to reduce the toll taken by aging, and therefore, reduce the cost of supporting those who remain alive.

A number of methods are under consideration. Since a national lottery for medical health is already part of the National Health Care plan, a natural extension of that is the national lottery for aging. To wit, health care will be dealt based on your National Health Care lottery winning: if you win, you get something (undisclosed). If you lose, you get nothing, but you may try the lottery again later. In a somewhat similar fashion, in the Anti Aging agenda, there would be a national lottery for aging: if you win, you will be allowed to age. If you lose, you may try again, but with some limitations.

The anti aging cutoff age at the start is 65, and it is expected that the age will be lowered as the office runs out of money on account of the Dollar not being worth as much as it used to be in view of the large sums printed lately. Since the purpose is anti aging, any method to prevent aging will be considered. On the menu of limiting aging are (1) withholding medical care, (2) freezing Social Security benefits at the 2008 level. In addition, in the spirit of green earth the cooling of homes in the summer, and heating of homes in the winter for those over the cutoff age will be limited, unless they are members of the Congress or the Presidency.

On the positive side, anybody past the anti aging cutoff age will be given a National Health Care lottery ticket for every eight hours of volunteer work in hazardous waste cleanup, picking up trash left by illegal aliens crossing the desert as they are escaping from the US, and bailing out the rising level of the oceans due to the global warming trend.

The water bailed out of the oceans will be used to run electrical generation equipment in support of renewable energy. The provided electricity will be offered to emerging nations who have not yet, and are not planning to sign up to the green earth policy in order to offset the amount of the pollution they rightfully produce as a result of the USA outsourcing all former manufacturing and power generation due to the “Cap-And-Tax” bill passed by our congress. Oldsters are also encouraged to emigrate to emerging nations so as to reduce the burden on our Medicare and National Health Care.

Since savings, investments, IRA’s, retirement funds, pensions, and Social Security benefits have become worthless, retired people are encouraged to find jobs in the service industry formerly held by illegal aliens. Illegal aliens are returning to their native countries in hordes. The former third world countries’ economy is now picking up due to outsourcing from the US.

Because of the severe environmental impact fees imposed on our former agricultural producers, all of our food is now produced south of the border. Oldsters are further encouraged to get jobs in the now up and coming industries in Mexico, Central, and South America. Be warned, however, that the US-Mexican border is now heavily guarded by the Federales against Gringos, and Mexico does not accept any legal entries for now. The waiting list for work visas is booked until the year 2050. However, there are still openings in Honduras, Venezuela, and Cuba, plus some other countries on a smaller scale.

Pajamas -- Or Not?

The last time I remember wearing pajamas was while I was still living with my parents. It was polite to have something on when wandering through the house for a cup of coffee in the morning. This was just before I was snagged by a beautiful female to be her mate for the rest of her life.

After the above snagging I still had my pajamas, but somehow this sexy woman and I couldn’t make good use of it. I was without it more often than with. She was shyer than I, so she managed to grab things like, gowns, towels, and long wide shirts while traversing the treacherous route between the bedroom and the bathroom as my lecherous eyes followed all of her voluptuous curves. I suppose that pajamas would not have detracted from her attraction, yet, in view of the climatic uselessness of it, the evolution worked perfectly. We somehow lost our pajamas over the years.

I recorded part of a radio talk show early this year. I was just listening to a portion of it when I heard one of the commercials hawking a “pajama-gram”. In it the announcer stated, “When your love receives it as a Valentine’s Day gift, she will be the happiest woman in your life”. Hm. MW would have me wear it if I succumbed to the temptation to buy it for her.

We live in a warm climate. I wonder how many of those they sell around here. Sure, we have winters when the temperature plummets to about freezing from time to time. Unless the wind blows, we leave a window open in the bedroom at night anyway. We use several blankets and some cats for warmth while sleeping. The result is that I really don’t need more than just a tee shirt to keep me warm. MW still puts on a short nightgown during the winter nights. That’s fine. When we decide to cuddle, it is very easy to pull off, and open her warmth to mine. During other than winter nights, forget clothing!

We use air conditioning, as in “refrigeration”, only during the humid days of summer, but we seldom use it at night. So, pajamas, as such, are somewhat a non-issue for us. We don’t need it for modesty, and don’t want it for warmth.

Some years ago we settled into our Female Led Relationship. One of its requirements was that I develop my natural state, and maintain it. I have talked about my natural state before, so it’s no news: naked as I was borne. We also call it “my uniform”. The first thing I do whenever I return from being out is to get into my uniform. You have it: it means reverting to my natural state. The only other time I have to get dressed are when we have children or guests in the house.

During the day, MW dresses as she wishes, being dressed most of the time. In the heat of summer, however, she is often without clothes while indoors. This is not to be taken as being completely naked: she prefers to wear at least sports bras to keep her lovelies comfortable.

On the long run we have a nice benefit: we save water, laundry soap, clothing, and electricity. Of course, that is not the primary purpose, just a side effect. I feel good being in my natural state. MW is not that free, but she is working on it. As it should be, her comfort comes first.

Giving Pleasure

I don’t know whether it is my kinky yearning to please a woman, or just the way we are. Some of us just want to please.

I am no altruistic saint who will give and not take. Trust me, I will take, whatever is available. Being constantly horny and male gives me an incentive and the tools to do a lot of … OK, I could do some damage just by being myself. I learned over my many years that, there is no take without give, and no give without take. Of course, that excludes psychopathic activity. I am talking normal kink here, whatever that may be.

I was thinking of a close friend we have. She is single and without a significant other. I know that MW owns me, and that I can’t and won’t try to form sexual relationships with anyone. Still, I have the means to give pleasure that is positive.

Let me elaborate on this. In a theoretically sterile situation, I could be delivered to this sweet and lovely woman’s doorstep, and left for her use. She would pull me in by my balls, and have me give her a bath with slick soapy lotions. After I dried her and helped her into bed with a sexy video to watch she would have me use her bath water to cleanse myself so that I would be pristine for her subsequent use.

As she watched the movie she would begin to favor her private parts. Her tits would get attention, her nether lips the same. When she had enough self gratification, she would call me. I have hands, lips, cock, and some halfway decent looking male muscles to give her anything that she needs. We would use all that, but toward the end it would be my tongue that she preferred. It is skilled, clean, and well educated to give her pleasure. At this point I would be detached as far as my own pleasure was concerned. My purpose would be to please her, and I did. She would take all that she is able, and then push me away.

Sounds pure and altruistic?

Yeah, right!

I would not exactly orgasm over it, but damn, I would enjoy the hell out of it! With her scent on my face, I could start an orgy if I walked into the conference room at work.

Was I giving pleasure, or was I taking it?

Was anything lost in the process, as in using up resources?

Could it be repeated without cost?

Was anything wasted if none of these happened?

Would anything be hurt if this actually took place?

Damn! We are really wasting a lot of potential. Of course, MW might not see it that way, so this is not going to happen.

Autumn Leaves

Regardless of what people call me I am a romantic. I don't write or read much poetry, but I appreciate creativity.

I have a collection of love songs that has cost me a fortune. As I write this I am listening to “I’ll Go On Loving You” by Alan Jackson. I could cry. Just before this I heard “Autumn Leaves” by Nat King Cole. Not my favorite rendition, but good just the same. As I get older, I am more in tune with my love, my life, my wife, the one I refer to as “MW” on this blog.

All love songs begin and end with her.

There are two primal senses that do me great potential harm, and yet thrill me more than others. One is the sense of smell. Scents from my lover grab me by my balls, so to speak, like nothing else will. The other is more of a wide-spectrum interference: music. OK, music is not a primal sense, except when I limit my aural input to love songs. Holy Cow! I could die listening to some of these songs, and probably will with any luck. My list of songs is essentially endless. It spans styles, motifs, fashions, centuries, and so on. When I find one that is beautiful, I keep it so that I can play it again. That accounts for my extensive CD library.

Strangely, I don’t know when or where I find one that grabs me as I said before. It could be anything, anywhere. For example, “Wednesday’s Child” by Matt Monroe. It is just a silly theme song from a long-defunct TV series. Yet, it penetrates me like many of the others. By the way, I am a "Wednesday's child".

My computer goes on to play others. Right now it is playing “What Love Is” by Marty Balin. Damn, it’s good.

Then there are other memories brought back from my combat days by “Who Will Stop The Rain” produced by Credence Clearwater Revival. Not exactly a love song, but penetrating and memorable nevertheless. When all else fails, music will come through.

Emergency Room Thoughts

On the night of the scorpion's sting MW did suggest that we might mosey over to the ER in case my throat constriction gets to be serious. Being cocky, I suggested, “If I’m going to die of this reaction to the scorp’s sting, I may as well die at home in relative comfort as opposed to sitting in the hospital awaiting attention."

Some years ago I took MW to an emergency room with symptoms of something that we thought required immediate attention. Being in the middle of the night, it seemed appropriate. Once there, the first thing I had to figure out was where to park my car so that it is not towed away. I suppose, if we had just walked in without a car that part would have been easier.

Once in, I looked for a place for MW to sit. I found one on the floor against a wall. Standing behind a line of customers for a while I was finally allowed to talk with a bouncer. Well, maybe she was not going to bounce me, but she was between me and the medics for good. I had to produce some identification, and proof of insurance. Then I was allowed to explain the nature of the emergency. She pointed to the full waiting room, and said, “We’ll call you in turn.”

After a while one of the customers may have gone to find a bathroom, so MW got a chance to sit in a hard backed chair. I continued standing. A young man was sitting next to me. His leg was bleeding onto the floor through some makeshift bandages. Teenagers were coughing up lungs, older folks appeared to be in coma, and snot-nosed little beggars were spreading their disease without supervision. I thought, Maybe next time I should call an ambulance. Their patients may get priority. I found out later that arriving in an ambulance makes no difference with respect to the waiting queue. The only thing it assures is a relatively comfortable wait as opposed to sharing disease with the awaiting masses. About three hours into the wait MW was taken to one of the triage rooms.

I don’t have the federal law in my sight, so I am unsure of the actual statute that dictates private hospitals to provide emergency care to anyone, regardless of ability to pay. The fact is, however, that people of limited means use the hospital emergency rooms for routine medical needs: when one of the twelve little rug rats has diarrhea, they drag the entire family to the ER and spread it around.

We live in a border state, so the situation is as I described. I did not actually count, but it appeared that about seventy percent of the customers in the ER were from south of the border. What happens is that the hospital, a privately financed institution to make money for their investors, must treat anybody who stumbles over their threshold. In spite of that, I was practically frisked to make sure that I could pay for any care that my wife may receive. The reason for that is, somebody has to pay for the free medical care for the so-called indigent, read that as “illegal alien”. The hospital is in business to make money. Without payments, they quickly go out of business. The government does not pay for this free medical care for the indigent, whereas, somebody must. That is were you and I come in. That is why insurance premiums are high or unaffordable to some.

With the entire medical care overhaul that is being kicked around in the US Congress, those idiots are just working on the symptoms. They can twist their rules any way, but it is not going to provide better medical care for less money, which is what they are trying to shove down the taxpayers' throat. Don’t get me started!

Fixing the problem, as opposed to the symptoms, would be as follows:

• Stopping any benefits to illegal aliens,
• Limiting the ridiculous amounts awarded to trial lawyers supposedly in behalf of litigants, and
• Not requiering private health care providers to work without compensation.

These three actual solutions would allow insurance companies to make premiums affordable to most, do away with the enormous premiums health providers pay for malpractice insurance, and leave some taxpayer money for the true legal indigent when they need medical care.

Tribute To Followers

Dear People,

I appreciate your willingness to read my thoughts. In some cases it could be a whim or something that an Internet search brought up when looking for " ..." whatever. In other cases, it could be an acknowlegement of some value that I provide. It is the latter that I treasure.

Scorpio

If you are a careful reader of my blog, you already know that whenever I am at home and we have no guests, I am in my natural state, or as MW and I have been referring to it lately, “being in uniform”. As pleasant as I find this state, it has some negative consequences. In the winter I practically have to carry a portable heater with me to stay relatively comfortable. During the last few days our resident mosquito has savaged my body twice a day with several stings; each of which persist for an hour or so.

Being ”in uniform”, which is my natural state, also means being barefooted. I walked into the bathroom at around 7PM last night to take a shower. It was dark, and I was about to turn on the light when I felt a hot pin penetrating the side of my right foot. I believe, I said, “Oh shit!” or something similarly unoriginal but descriptive of my assessment of the situation. I was carrying my shower shoes, so as soon as the light was on, I zeroed in on a two-inch scorpion and reacted as any red-blooded male would. In a second it was dead by purposeful execution. You may call it retaliation. It probably does not qualify as self-defense on my part since I was already dead – so to speak.

MW heard my exclamation and came to investigate the reason behind my usage of foul language. After seeing the critter, she saw nothing wrong with my choice of words. She applied her home remedy to the area affected by the sting. I commented, “Unless one is allergic to scorpion sting, it does not seem bad,” The sting was no worse than one of the many bee stings that I have endured over the years while pruning flowering bushes and trees.

In a while the side of my foot, the point of the sting, began to tingle in addition to the burning sensation. Within an hour the foot developed a throbbing with spreading numbness. MW looked up scorpion sting on the Internet, and to our amazement she had found many similar symptoms describing my condition. The suggestions to remedy the situation ranged from the application of an ice pack to a visit to a hospital’s emergency room. I am no pussy, so naturally I did none of those. I decided to work out the venom. The plan was to pump iron in my exercise room in order to jack up the speed of metabolizing the substance. After MW threatened to shoot my other foot, I decided that my idea might not be very good under the circumstances.

An hour and a half after ground zero, while chewing an apple, my throat began to feel constricted. The tingly-numbness had traveled up my right leg by this time. In any other respect I felt all right, so when the time arrived for my usual nocturnal pass-out MW left the room to watch television, and I did what I find natural under the circumstances: pass out.

I woke at around 2AM, at that time seven hours past ground zero. The tingly-numbness had by that time invaded both of my arms and hands. Being otherwise unaffected by this poison I returned to sleep with some confidence that I could handle it. I slept longer than usual, for it was after 4AM when I woke again. MW also woke, and said, “You aren’t going to work out this morning, right?” With my numb lips and tongue I managed to voice some unintelligible words meaning, “Damn right”.

It has been ten hours since that nasty little bugger zapped me. I probably would not want to be participating in disarming an explosive device, but otherwise I seem to be all right. Sure, my chest muscles are numb, and my hands feel as if thousands of pins are pricking them gently as I type these words. My right leg thinks that I am wearing pants made of wire brush material. My throat is still under the impression that I had tried to swallow a two-inch metal ring, and I am breathing through it. My tongue is a bit thick and numb. Other than that, all is well.

Update

It has been fifteen hours since ground zero. The only discernible affect on me is the tingling right foot. Yes, the throat is still holding the metal ring, but I may be digesting it slowly. Knowing the cause it does not disturb me much. Otherwise I would be trying to make an appointment with my doctor, assuming that his office is taking calls on a Sunday. Such as it is, MW suggested that I don’t do anything that requires great divestiture of energy for the nonce. I am eager to comply. That means goofing off all day. I would not trust myself to drive a vehicle, use a gun, or, as I said, try to disarm a bomb.

What I have learned from this is, “Wear at least shower shoes when in the dark.” Of course, that would be no deterrent of rattle snakes, but then, most of them are outside of the house


Next Update

It has been 36 hours since ground zero. The side of my right foot still retains some numbness, but the other effects have diminished to where I am not sure that they are there.

I try to be positive about this experience. We have not used poison to try to kill critters that invade our home. One line line of thought is that they were here first. The other has to do with unexpected side effects: poison may kill your target, but it propagates up the food chain where you end up killing animals that are no threat to you. The most compelling reason for not using a wide spectrum poison is that we end up killing the least resistant. The ones that remain will become sturdy, and in a far stretch of imagination, intelligent. I have maintained a belief that cockroaches will inherit Earth. Of course, they will have to declare war on themselves in order to survive. Just like us.

By the way, I am human, not cockroach.


Update Again

It is now two and a half days since the scorpio incident. This morning I had another visitor. This little guy is maybe half an inch longer than the one that zapped me, around three inches all together. I wished to put a coin next to it for measure, but he/she was on a slippery slope and angry, so I did not want to mess with it.
It is now dead by execution.

Yet Another Update ...

It seems strange, but after four days my right foot still retains numbness. I think that some of the viscera was digested by the venom. I can walk on it, and use it as my other foot, yet when I touch it, there is a numbness under the skin. I don't think that anti-venom via the emergency room of a hospital would have made a difference. We go through life taking chances. This was one, and I was damaged. Maybe I will recover. Maybe I will live with it. I am more aware of looking for scorpions and rattle snakes.

What Would I Do?

I Am A Writer, Not A Viewer

The power of books, as opposed to movies is blatant. Whereas movies present it all without interpretation and with no room for imagination, books set you up to imagine the scenario and live it as you wish. You can put the book in you lap and think about what you would have done in the place of one of the characters. You learn things from books. You remember specific episodes as if you had been there. You change your life based on what you have seen and learned. You remember words, phrases, and statements. You remember the attitudes, the features, and the purpose of the characters. You become part of the story.

None of this is possible while watching a movie. The movie may be riveting, fascinating, memorable, but you cannot get involved in it to this extent. It moves too fast, and you can’t pause or you miss the next episode. It may give you nightmares, but in a few hours the effect is gone. Whereas, having read a book, its results remain with you, and steer you in way that you may not have imagined, but after having learned it you allow.

I have written many short stories that I submitted only to MW. As you can guess, they all are of the prurient nature. I have almost finished a book, which I am planning to submit for publication soon. One might say, "I am full of it."

I think that I have covered some of this earlier, but I can’t find it, so I will say what I want to say again. I am not homosexual. I am not even a closet homosexual. Now that I have gotten the compulsory disclaimer out of the way, I will get to the point.

What Am I?

I believe that few of us are exactly heterosexual with no give either way.

I believe that we all have some needs that are not completely satisfied with a completely heterosexual relationship.

We do rationalize a lot, and even condemn others, at least in our minds. Yet, when the lights are off, and we are in our private fantasy space, we do think of situations that are counter to our expected behavior. We don’t act on these thoughts, for they might be considered abominations by some, even by ourselves. Yet, there is the recurring, even compelling fantasy that haunts us, even gives us the need to release the pressure by whatever sexual outlet we have available to us. During the release we may think of the fantasy, and not necessarily of our partner who is providing the thrill for the moment.

I hope that I have not destroyed the illusion that only your partner can satisfy you. Yes she can, but there are other ways. your mind is one of them …

I see us as beings on a teeter-totter leaning this way and that to keep our minds focused on doing the right thing, but the point of balance for each of us is a matter of our being. Our fantasies can be theoretically limitless, but even in fantasy, we stay within our private limits. I know that even in my wildest fantasies there are things that I would not do, therefore, I don’t dwell on them. My fantasies go only as far as my limits would allow if I pushed hard. Once admitting that, I feel free to explore the region that I have defined. That is where the fun is. The variations and combinations are endless. All I need to do is to give it thought, and maybe put it into writing, and it becomes real. Well, maybe not permanently real, but at least while I am writing or reading it.

The point of this posting is a bit elusive. It has to do with “what would I do if my wife forced me”. Actually in my case it is easy. She is not into heavy kink, so I am really safe. But, if I were to sink into some fantasy …

As I have said, I can’t see a man and think, “I would love to give him a blow job.” I can’t even think of kissing him on his lips, or running my tongue along any part of him, as I would love to do with a woman. I would find it repulsive, offensive, and repugnant. Putting that aside, I can imagine that MW had set us up with a woman and man couple as playing partners. The man in the other couple is submissive. MW and the other woman want to have some fun at the men’s expense.

Not that I am suggesting, but what if MW decided that the man and I were to have some kind of sex? Holy cow! That would mean homosexual sex, no doubt about it. Here I am, not ever seeing a man whom I find attractive that way, but now having to deal with MW’s orders. Do I enter him from behind? Do I make myself be available to his cock in any way? Do we share intimate feeling, licking, sucking as I would with a woman? I don’t know. What I do know is that if I am forced to do this, I am absolutely obligated to follow. This is where fantasy meets reality. On the reality side, I do no such thing. On the fantasy side, I follow MW’s orders, whatever they may be. It is the same as my taking no responsibility, making no decision, because I was following my dominant wife’s orders.

Well, take that as you wish. This is no different from the response to the charges during the Nuremberg trials: “I was following orders.” What is different is that in my fantasy, all that took place within the limits I have set to myself. These limits are certainly different from what I would meet when I am in charge.

Don’t take this wrong. I have no objection to a so-called straight man blowing another man in some context. What I am saying here is that I would not do it as part of my plan. However, if it happens, so be it.

Still Another Approach To Chastity

I know what it means to be celibate. I spent three years in the U. S. Army away from home. Two years of it was in various places in the Orient, the rest moving around the country on assignments. None of that was conducive to finding a suitable female friend who would be willing to have sex with me. For months at a time I was in remote areas where I saw no females. On rare occasions when I was near some town, I did not want to go there and pay for sex. The consequence was, no sex. I was young. I knew that I had many years ahead of me during which I could regain some of that loss. It is different now.

A little over a year ago I posted Problems with Sex. MW had made a decision to have elective surgery that would enhance her physical well-being. She wanted to lose weight before going through with it. That would take some time. Then something happened that was not planned. The events drew her deeply into depression.

Many months went by until she came out of her depression. She is doing well now, but she still faces the desired weight loss and the surgery.

In over a year we have had oral sex twice by my pleasuring her, see Her Pleasure and After The Dust Settles, and one bout of penetrating sex (Just Love) but without consummation. We also achieved one male orgasm by her loving hand. No more than that. In the earlier months I had left hints, I talked of other ways to have sex, I assured her that I was there to do all that she needed. It changed nothing.

Perhaps as a substitute, she had provided sessions of cock and ball torture, tit torture, spanking and whipping, and on and off chastity control. If that is sex, then we have had it. As for orgasms, we have not, other than the three occasions I mentioned above.

MW and I are no longer in our early twenties. We have adult children who have children in turn. Consequently, what I miss now in sex is not something that can be made up later. I have fewer years to live, my sex drive may diminish, my ability at some point will be history. Missing a year or so of sex at this point is not something that I take lightly.

MW mentions occasionally that once she has the surgery, we will again … do something. That’s fine with me. But she was not all that charged with sex when we were doing it regularly. If she is thinking that we will pick up that same pace, I have already lost most of what I could have had.

I don’t understand why she has shut down this way. We could have daily sex in spite of not being able to have penetrating sex for now. I know what some of you think, “Talk to her. Communication is important.”

No, I cannot talk to her. It would arouse guilt in her, and that would do bad things to her, and in turn, to me. She knows that I am willing and able. She also knows all of my kinks, and how happy it would make me to do any and all. Yet she does nothing.

Only one thing is certain. Regardless of how good she can be after this surgery, we will never make up for what we have lost in the meantime. At this point I am not even sure that she will have the surgery, or if she does, she would resume any kind of sex with me afterward.

I may sound like an ingrate. I know that her situation is more dire than mine at this point. I don’t begrudge her holding back on some things. I would never do anything to hurt her. Still, as I said, time is ticking, and any opportunity not taken is wasted. It is something that will not come again.

Ruled By Idiocy

The USA is different from many countries in this sense, that we have what we call Federal Laws, State Laws, and in addition, Local Laws. Federal laws sometimes supersede state laws, and state laws supersede local laws in cases when they overlap. It is usually up to the prosecuting agency to sort out the charges, rather than slam the poor schmuck with layers of crime for the same deed.

I don’t have direct wording of “anti-profiling” laws. For one thing, they are defined by the locality, rather than being universal. For example, one organization (http://definitions.uslegal.com/) says,

“Profiling refers to the law enforcement practice of the detention, interdiction, or other disparate treatment of an individual on the basis of the racial or ethnic status of such individual. Many communities have adopted laws to deal with this illegal practice, and some make racial profiling training available to their law enforcement agencies.

Racial profiling laws are generally adopted voluntarily and vary by locality. For example, racial profiling laws may require law enforcement officers to report certain
information for analysis …”

I agree with the intent. The problem is, that the implementation is dictated by idiots, and those enforcing it are caught between a rock and a hard place. The rest of us are just simply screwed. Let me demonstrate.

A police officer must show due diligence in enforcing the law. As an example, he must make so many traffic stops, reports of unusual activity, do so many arrests, and so on, per number of hours on duty. I am not saying the he has a quota to fill as such. This is a measure of a number of things. It can support the statistics of the actual crime rate in an area, the effectiveness of the laws, the competence of the officer, his willingness to be impartial, and so on. Often this is used in his evaluation for promotion. This means, he cannot sit on his ass and let crime come to him when he is on the job. That happens when he gets a call from dispatch, but that’s just part of what he does. He is expected to find and confront crime.

Some organizations have classes to teach officers to deal with crime without being “racist”, which is the intent behind the profiling laws. Fine, we can all learn a few things on our jobs.

Let’s take a step back for the moment and look at the TSA (Transportation Security Administration in the USA) approach. I don’t have the verbiage of their directive for airport security, but I am the recipient of it. My wife travels by air about twice a year. Without knowing her in person, any sane and rational individual looking at her would conclude the following:
“This person is extremely unlikely to be a would-be terrorist who carries weapons or explosives onto an aircraft for the purpose of blowing up herself along with fellow passengers.”

This conclusion would be based on some observation by the security personnel at the gates: X-ray shows no dangerous substance or object, she has red hair, freckles, friendly demeanor, and the only things she might be discreetly hiding are her clothing are her natural curves. In other words, she looks like she is about any kid’s mom or some kids’ grandma. The above conclusion is based on statistics and feelings. I actually don’t have the statistics on the ethnicity or personal appearance of actual and foiled terrorists. Similarly, I don’t remember ever reading my wife’s personal description as one of them. OK, maybe some years ago between the Irish factions that might have come up, but even there, come on, it’s far-fetched.

The idiotic avoidance of profiling by TSA is following an administrative rule. Consequently, my curvaceous wife goes through body search to make sure that the bumps and lumps under her clothes are part of her body. I would hate to think what women, or women-wannabies who wear artificial enhancements would go through trying to prove that the lumps are not plastique (explosives), but just some silicone or other foam substance.

I would approve pulling some person out of the queue at the gate because he fits the profile of a terrorist. Law enforcement agencies have built some expertise based on profiling, which in turn is based on statistics obtained on crimes and criminals. But no, the idiot administrators who make these rules, choose to ignore that accumulated wisdom, one that could save your ass when some terrorist is not picked out of the line based on his profile. They would rather be politically correct to cover their stupid asses, than to save yours and mine, and at the same time subject most of us to the inconvenience of body searches and the confiscation of fingernail clippers and gel toothpaste.

Getting back to the police officer on the street … I dare these bleeding heart politically correct policy makers to do the following:

• Go through background check in order to be accepted into some police academy for training. Prior arrests for drunk driving, drug usage, any felony will disqualify you (too bad the same criteria are not used for our elected representatives in congress and the presidency).
• Go through police training and graduate with enough credentials to be considered by a police agency.
• Get accredited by an organization of your peers so that you can be certified as a police officer.
• Get a job with a police agency.
• Go through on the job training and be evaluated by one of your superiors such that you can be qualified to be on your own once on the job.
• Be dumped into a crime-ridden environment where the residents will not support you even if you are on their side, and the criminals will shoot you on sight.
• Remain impartial in your administration of the law under all circumstances.
• Do not engage in profiling even if it means going against your other requirements to enforce the law. This is because you would be sued, ostracized, could lose your job, and be kept out of law enforcement afterward.
  

By the way, these are the hurdles our officers in my state must pass with flying colors to become and remain on the job.

So, let’s say that you are a police officer in a neighborhood that is basically white middle class. You see a white young man getting out of a car, looking nervous. He is wearing gloves. His jacket is zipped up to the neck. He has a knit cap pulled down to his eyes, wears sunglasses although it is nighttime. He walks into the convenience store across the street. Regardless of your color as a police officer, you should report your observation as you furtively cross the street and observe the situation. If your “profiling” was wrong, and this young man is simply cold, has light sensitive eyes, and came in only to buy a bottle of eye remedy, all is well. Then again, he could be bent on a crime, in which case you are in a good position to do what you are there to do.

Let’s switch the ethnicity of the young man to something other than white. Suddenly, you must contend with conflicting directives. On the one hand, the “profile” of the young man suggests what it did before. On the other hand, “anti profiling rules” kick in, and you must wait until the crime does take place even before reporting your observations. Meanwhile, the old adage, “If it talks like a duck, walks like a duck, looks like a duck, it’s a duck” is amended to consider the color of the duck. This is where idiocy rules.

One more thing is blatant. In law enforcement, assuming honest execution of laws, no person will be stopped, questioned, or detained without probable cause. This is based on the fourth amendment to our constitution. In laymen’s terms, a police officer will not stop and interrogate some person on a whim. The officer either has a warrant, observed an illegal act, or he must have probable cause to investigate, and be able to prove it to a judge. This is sometimes glossed over when doing, for example, roadblocks during holidays to test drivers’ sobriety. However, even then, all drivers are stopped and interviewed similarly, so it is not an arbitrary search and seizure or profiling. This is not true with respect to airport securities. Those people will take any passenger on a whim, out of all the others to subject him to search totally without reason, regardless of whether his profile fits that of a terrorist. Maybe they take every twelfth female, or every twenty-fifth toddler. Who knows? They do this to prove that they are not racially motivated, and that they are not using appearance for “profiling” regardless of how the profile might otherwise fit.

As I said, idiocy rules.

Lesbian, Or Just Loving?

I may have more to say about this subject later. I just wanted to show this in a benign context.

There is only one scene I would find more enticing and endearing in a sexual scenario: a man and a woman doing the same thing. But this is definitely a close second.

I don’t get much out of seeing pictures of male homosexuality. With female to female sex, on the other hand, I could hardly go wrong in my expectation of an esoteric thrill. This particular picture is of unknown origin, so I cannot give credit. What makes it so endearing to me is the spontaneity. They appear to be just regular women, like your wife or girlfriend, not one of those posed paid-for-models pictures. There is nothing blatant or sexually provocative, just sweet love. Seeing it makes me love women more.

More On Orgasm Control

In my previous post I did not delve into this deeply enough. I don’t want readers to misinterpret my remarks on this subject. I will try to make my point clear this time.

I am sorry to disillusion the fanatics. Few men or women are as simple as what is assumed under the regime of male orgasm control. Neither men, nor women suddenly change behavior in any meaningful and permanent way as a result of being subjected to it. The following are not rules, but rational evaluations of human behavior.

1. Orgasm control does different things to different people.
2. There is no single rule that defines a man’s behavior under orgasm control, other than, “he does not get to orgasm” as long as the device or mental conditioning works. Read this as, “He does not necessarily become more subservient, as opposed to the way he would be if he orgasmed at his needed frequency”.
3. Anyone assuming that any man becomes more docile and willing to serve if his orgasm is limited is making a mistake. All men are not wired that way.
4. Some will cooperate (see the testimonials on several blog sites),
5. Some will find a way around the control (hence the search and need for more secure devices)
6. Some will become belligerent,
7. Some will strike out,
8. Some will quit the relationship.

If you base your conclusion on the items 4 and 5 above, it is like reaching into a jar of blue marbles: when you withdraw one, it is likely to be blue. Those of you who think that you have everything figured out about men may need to do some homework. Orgasm control/male chastity is a nice game, but it is just as much of a preferred lifestyle as is a female led relationship. When you try to make it universal, you are defeating the purpose: it is supposed to be under mutual consent. As such, it is always open to negotiations. Corollary: it does not work the same way every time, or for every man or woman. I assume that one can force the relationship in some scenario, but let's try to remain realistic.

I have been the recipient of orgasm control, on and off, and it works just fine. There are several things I can think of in my case, which may be common to many. For example, I am kinky enough to actually put on the device myself, without MW being aware of it, just for the sexual thrill. I would do this sometimes when she is away from home for more than a day. Whether or not that motivates me to be a better sub to her is unknown.

Another issue is with her putting it on me, or ordering me to do it. That is even a bigger thrill. Then, if she remains aware of it, checks it occasionally, even teases me about it, I consider that a lot of attention on my sexuality, so it is a greater thrill. Sure, in gratitude, I would be more subservient to her. Now, if the device were completely secure, that is, unremovable without destruction, the thrill would be even greater for a while. It would be like living a fantasy. At some point, however, especially if the very secure device is ignored, I would become more than a little disappointed. Yes, it takes two to play this game. One to cause the thrill, and one to reciprocate in perceived increase of submission. But, in my case, it would work only for a while unless I received some recognition for my missed orgasms.

In most of these affidavits of the success of orgasm control the lucky recepient of all this sexual thrill has a chance of removing the device from time to time in order to achieve the orgasm granted by the keyholder. In other words, there is hope for orgasms. In some of the more extreme fantasies the keyholder either throws away the key, or does some extreme body modification of the man to the extent that he has no hope of ever achieving orgasm in the expected way. As far as the fantasy goes, it is a great challenge and thrill but only once. When it is over, the thrill and the incentive to serve are also likely to be gone: the carrot dangled before the dupe is no longer there. The woman just lost her effectiveness in control.

The thing we don’t know is how all this would have worked without orgasm control. As a result, there is no way knowing its effectiveness. Urban legends, affidavits, myths, fantasies, as reported on the blogs, don’t mean their weight in beans. Only a scientifically conducted study could determine its true effectiveness, and there is nobody out there to fund it.

For now, let’s enjoy its benefits, and try not to make it the rule, or expect all men or women to behave according to our expectations. As long as you realize that male orgasm control is not a cure for a man's slovenly habits or lack of consideration, you can have some fun and maybe some coveted results. But the satisfaction must be mutual for it to work at all. If it works, fine. If it does not work, try something else.

Orgasm Control By The One In Charge

At first I was thrilled reading web logs and forums on the subject. I still get some thrill under selected circumstances. But in general, the thrill is not as intense as it used to be.

In an analogous fashion to the old adage, “There are no old jokes, just old people who have heard them already,” I want to add: “Orgasm control is thrilling, unless you have read or experienced it all.”

Now that I have alienated most of the newbe’s I will get down to the meat of the matter. In a female led relationship all participants’ orgasms should be up to the female if she chooses so. Note that this is not a rule, just a reasonable suggestion. Her orgasms, without question, should be approved and requested by her. Otherwise it would not be an FLR. She can play vanilla if she chooses, but it is still her choice. Have I made myself clear?

Now we are getting to his orgasms or the lack of. Here is where we can get really weird, kinky, or just plain mean. Some of us (well, maybe not me, see Ignore and Denial) males get off on being denied. I don’t begrudge the idea or the experience. It is great fodder for fantasy. Some men have written books about it. I, myself, like to play it for a while on and off.

Now, my input: I don’t want to be “ignored and denied”. I would occasionally love to be teased and denied, even repeatedly, but only to a certain extent. At some point I get pissed off, and the deal is off. Unless I am in some sort of secure chastity device, and I have been on and off, I will have my private pleasure, and to hell with guilt.

Some forums concentrate on chastity and orgasm denial. The participants present their pathetic fantasies, and in some better pieces, their realities. Those who rely strictly on fantasy have my pity. It is a shame that they don’t have a woman who can really deny their orgasms, as opposed to their wishing. Nevertheless, I don’t mind the genre as such. It is at least mildly entertaining.

Then there are some real posts. If a man really wants to be denied, for now, for a while, or for ever, hey, who am I to object? I just don’t see the attraction on the long run. It can be fun while playing games. But after a while, damn it, a man just have to get his rocks off! Yeah, I know, it’s a guy thing. Just like a female orgasm is a girl thing. To each his or her own.

MW can have one, more, or several orgasms in a row. I love to give her what it takes to do that. She knows it. Me, I can have one at a time. On rare occasions I had more. But not lately. So, if I don’t begrudge her to have any number of these little deaths, any time, why should she prevent me from having one once in a while? She does not. Forget the drivel about a man being more willing to serve if he is denied orgasm. It's fantasy. I might not be as willing, say, being forced to suck another man's cock immediately after I had orgasmed, wheras, lateer, ... well, who knows. But a man willingly submissive to a woman should do all he can regardless of whether she had allowed him to orgasm half hour before, or a year before. If you disagree, then you are just making judgement on the submissives who are already doing just that: orgasm has nothing to do with being submissive on the long run.

Men bitch about lack of orgasms, or they brag about not having any because the significant other put them in a device or such, etc… I think that all that has to do with what the men want, rather than what the women want. The women mostly go with the men’s fantasy. It’s OK, just that let’s call it what it is. It’s easier for her to take a hint, rather than try to make up stuff that he might not like, and then bitch about it. Let’s write a short story, a novel, or a “submissive male’s user’s manual”, and call it that. Let’s not call it reality unless it is real.

I admit that I get off on weird things such as CBT, orgasm denial, chastity, female domination, etc. I could almost live on that stuff. Well, maybe not, but it would be fun to try for a while. But in my case, the bottom line is, without my orgasms at a more or less frequent interval, the whole thing sucks, but not in a good way. Yes, I could learn to live with it, and yes, I have from time to time, but no, I don’t want to live with it for the rest of my life. If I miss an orgasm today, I can never make it up later.

In some scenario I could end up with a mate who cannot provide any orgasms for me. That is not an uncommon situation. Regardless of her feelings, permissions, customs, or expectations, I would have to consider mine. Life is short. Pleasures are expensive or cheap, depending on your approach and preferences. Only few things in life are freely available, and this is one. What am I to do in this case? My answer would be, “Whatever it takes.” So, as you can conclude, I am not a true submissive by the rules when it comes to orgasms. I would take my own pleasure without permission. Unless MW were to forbid it. Until then, you know …

Why Do I Submit To Women?

Actually, as much as I would love to do so, my wife would not permit it.

Why do I submit to MW? Let me count the reasons.

All my life, as far back as I can remember, I was in control of myself. Sure, there was my mother, and my father, but much of the time I was on my own. There was no frigging babysitter, ever.

As I grew up, I took on more responsibility. I would love to go to details, but I need to remain anonymous, so I’ll skip some of the juicy but revealing situations. Nevertheless, I seldom had the luxury of relaxing, and have someone else be in charge. Later, raising a family, getting college degrees, and working to make a living, left no time or opportunity for giving up control. I am sure that MW had a hard time with me then. I apologize for that, but when one sleeps three hours a night for months, one must control closely. Missing a traffic signal could have cost me an hour’s worth of sleep.

At that time I knew that I needed to give up control from time to time, but between MW and me we could not manage that somehow. It was not until I began to relax a bit that we figured out that my giving up total control could be a good thing. Well, it has not happened to the full extent. As I pointed out many times before, “Being in charge carries a responsibility, and most people don’t want it.” Yes, some don’t mind being in charge from time to time, but screw the responsibility part! That’s a chore.

We have arrived at a compromise. She is in charge whenever she decides, and I shut up and put up. At any time I am in charge of the things that she does not want to deal with. When the dust settles, I pick it up. If she does not like my handling it, she whips my ass. It is a working arrangement. I get to deal with the wilderness around us, she gets to tell me what to do. The only thing missing is my frequent orgasms. Note that I said, missing. She is not into gratifying me often, or at any time, for that matter, unless it thrills her. This is when I could use a few slave girls, or even a spare mistress. Alas, MW would not go along with that either.

So, I still want to submit to women, and in my position, to this particular woman. It temporarily relives me of my responsibilities. It also offers memories to savor when I am under stress in real life.

Journalistic Excess

I was reading the paper after work. The headline showed, “…Officer Arrested For Domestic Violence.” As usual, the front-page article showed the facts, in this case, that the man was arrested. After that they often show some details if they have it. In this case: none. When they run out of realistic details, they show assumed context, such as “It is unclear that ... " [read that as,”we don’t know shit”] … Finally, they dig into the bowels of the crud they have accumulated on the people, organization, and ideas. Even if remotely related, they embellish that. The bottom line is that they are not reporting news that they know.

What I have just said is that the so-called reporter found out that a police officer was arrested for domestic violence. Anything else on the front-page and afterward is crud to pad the space on the pages of the paper, either unrelated, or fabricated.

You might think that I am being vindictive against this sort of reporting. You may be right. What pisses me off is when these so-called reporters report nothing that is factual. They say, “assumed”, “presumed”, “alleged” “it is unclear”, and then grab half-baked stories out of the archives that were just as badly unsubstantiated, but they are now on record [their own record, that is]. When they don’t have a story, they either make one up, or create one. Sure, they try to cover their asses to avoid libel. The problem is, in most cases, the target of their ill-reporting has deeper problems than suing a paper for libel.

This one is made up based on an arrest for which they have no detail. If they had the detail, they would have printed it. They tried to create a story when they said, “The [person] is expected to appear before the Justice of the Peace …” So where is the news in that? Has it occurred? No. Oh, yeah, it’s expected to occur. That’s news? That usually happens after an arrest, you moron!

These barracudas should be given a shovel to move some dirt to build up our southern border, and not be messing with gullible people’s minds. And, of course, the man's photograph in uniform was part of the front page article. After all, they have to be factual.

I don’t know this particular police officer. What I do know is that when we are on the job, we don’t ask, “Before I let you watch my back, you must agree that you are not an accused wife beater. Are you one, or not?”

At the least, that question, if I voiced it, would be awkward. It would also earn me some loose teeth, and a long time on my own, as in “being ostracized.” At best, the officer would leave me to my own devices, which is not good.

The bottom line is, we help one another without asking questions. We are not blind to some limitations that show up from time to time, but once we are out on the street, we live and die by the support of our peers. The time and the place are determined by the law-breaker. The rest is up to us.

Getting back to this man, I find it very disturbing to have discovered this situation. No man should be violent toward a person except in special circumstances, which this was not one. Worse even, he is a member of the elite, he should know better. I could not think of a more distasteful chore than to arrest a fellow officer for domestic violence.

I happen to know the judge who is to interview and then decide this man’s immediate future. I have met him professionally, and we also have a connection through my wife on a personal basis. If I were before him in court as an accused, I would be very much embarrassed. I would also be very much concerned about my future.

The police officer in this situation has his own problems. If he is cleared of charges, he may still carry a patina of wrongdoing that will be difficult to wear off. If he is guilty, his career in law enforcement is over. We are held to a higher standard than others. A politician may commit hideous acts and the get elected to a highly coveted political post anyway (see former Senator Kennedy). But once a law enforcement officer is accused of a crime or misbehaviour, guilty or not, there is slim chance of extricating himself from it. I have personally known several who had to give up law enforcement like that.

In no way do I condone domestic violence regardless of who is doing it to whom. If this man is guilty, the courts will determine the punishment that he deserves. I feel sorry for him and his victim. If he is innocent, I feel his pain. Guilty or innocent, he will never recover from this. It just pisses me off to see his face on the front page with the implied accusations.

I am not proposing putting limits on journalism. I am adamant, however, on professionalism in any field. Writing for the public comes with a responsibility. The so-called professionals should consider the consequences of their accusations and careless throwing of assumptions. If they are news reporters, they should stay with reporting news, not padding their gutless, useless, and careless words with assumptions and old crud, like in this case.

The Way We Perceive Reality Dominates Our Existence

Tainted Childhood

My wife’s father raised his children with strict discipline, as in “Your ass is grass, no matter what.” At least, that is what MW had conveyed to me. Her mother may have gone along with it for a reason that I should not try to guess. Nevertheless, she was not defending her children when mean old dad came home and did the discipline thing using various instruments. The discipline was based on mom’s bitching about what kids did or did not do while he was at work.

I was not privy to this situation until many years past our nuptials, and only second-hand from my wife’s stories. To say the least, MW was tainted by alpha males. She still had the hots for Hollywood macho (John Wayne) or debonair (Cary Grant) male characters, but when it came to reality, such as me, that was a different story. With me, her father’s behavior set the role, and even in my most tender moments she was on guard. I could seldom, if ever, do the right thing and expect her to just enjoy it. There was always a reservation of fear of her not being worthy, or what people will think of her reaction to pleasure, or anything. One might surmise from this that she had problems, and he would be correct.

Fast-forward some decades

Given the above does not mean that she is totally messed up. She is a perfectly functional human, wife, mother, sister, and friend to many people. It means that she has brought a lot of useless baggage with her from childhood, and we are working on divesting ourselves of it.

We are in a position such that my willingness to help and serve her has been evident, and my unwillingness to hurt her in any way should be obvious. However, that does not let me off the hook. She is still worried about life as it is. She is concerned about making sounds when we share pleasure. She seldom allows herself to just feel good and not worry about whether she had earned it. Trepidations… Then the other things …

I can say, “Something does not smell right in the refrigerator,” and she hears, “You worthless girl, your only purpose in life is to keep the refrigerator clean and uncluttered, and now see what you have done!”

She struggles with her inheritance. Her father loved and supported his children in his own peculiar way, such as photographs and bronze plated baby shoes. But he was not what I would call the best loving and supporting parent in more realistic ways. His grown children expressed their general behavior in their father’s presence as, “Try to blend into the background, and if you are seen anyway, duck.”

I am an outsider, so can’t say what is what. In the many years that I have known MW’s father I never had any problem with him. In the last several years he has been great. MW’s mother was something else. Instead of being supportive of anyone who could use help, she had been destructive. Even worse, she had been using up the good will of those few people who would help her in her old age. Passive resistance and subversion were her tools. MW realizes this, and has stated a number of times that she (MW) should be warned by us if she begins to behave like her mother. After all, she is her mother’s daughter. Well, MW has a long way to become that abusive and destructive. She is a caring, warm, creative, loving, wonderful person. She does well for our family, community, and people whom we don’t know, but value greatly, such as our soldiers serving overseas. But, we still have problems.

I think that she and I are both past the time when we could benefit from psychoanalysis. That sort of therapy, since Jung, has been known to take many years, if ever, to bear fruit. At this stage in our lives that is not a viable option. I never really thought that years of psychoanalysis was any use, but then I am not educated in psychotherapy. My approach to problem solving is (1) identify and limit the problem, (2) offer a number of potential solutions, (3) choose the most viable and appropriate under the circumstances, and (4) do it within available resource limits. Yes, I know, psychology is not that deterministic, and cannot, in general, be conducted that way. Still, the “years of therapy” approach must have the same characteristics. Without it, the therapist and the patient just wander around aimlessly, and never know if there was a real problem, or if there was, the problem has been solved. Am I by any chance describing psychotherapy in general?

So, if I have a deep-seated psychological problem, I am screwed. I am totally unwilling to spend years and thousands of dollars in therapy, but I don’t have a realistic way of fixing what is wrong. Of course, that assumes that I know exactly what is wrong and am willing to admit it. That may not be the case.

So we live with our problems that taint every hour of our existence. Because of our misconceptions we punish those who should be praised. It is a wonder why our children and our friends put up with us. Then again, everybody has problems, so maybe they understand.

I don’t want to close on a negative feeling. I have been introduced to people’s intimate problems while serving in law enforcement. The feeling I had many times was, “I don’t know how I would deal with this.” Yet, the people involved resolved most problems. Some not too well, but in general, the participants came out all right. We are resilient, and when there is love and commitment, a solution will offer itself. As long as I am still around, I will wait for one.

Half Naked Thursday Sep 09

Many bloggers repeatedly titillate us with their muscular or curvaceous bodies simply because it happens to be Thursday. Although I have posted photograpsh of some very private parts, This will be my first attempt to participate in what we call HNT.

Without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present for your enjoyment, part of the context in which my earlier explicit photographs were posted.

First my magnificent back. Please note that, as far as you can see, all the marks left by MW’s love taps have mostly disappeared. She was shocked to realize that this morning, and promised to correct the condition.

Next is my equally provoking front. The scratches that you see on my right side are not a result of rough love. I earned them while pruning a particularly thorny tree in my front yard.

See a piece of the branches here.

In the summer I usually wear slip-on shoes and short shorts when outside and around the house. You can tell by my lily white buns, whereas everything else is dark. The thorns had easy access to my skin from shoulder to toes dressed the way i am.

Actually, the real reason for my doing this HNT bit now is because, if I wait, that little pudginess around my waist will become even more embarrassing. I do work out six days a week, but still I am putting on some girth that was never there before. Some unenlightened people tell me that there are many calories in beer and wine. What do they know? I might try this again in a year if I am still around. Then we will see whether they are right. Maybe.

I suppose that I could have posted some of my earlier pictures, but that would be dishonest under the circumstances. I hope you see why I had to work fast. I did not even ask MW to take my pictures. I just set up the camera on a tripod, and took three shots on a timer. These are the best two out of three. The view of the branch was an afterthought.