What About Cuckolding?

What Prompted This Treatise?

Reading a recent post at Cuckolding Q+A the author said, “Is it just me or is there a sudden uptick in the number of women seeking cuckold relationships with submissive men?”

I am not concentrating on the subject although I do follow a few blogs whose theme includes or deals with it to a large extent. I think that the above quote shows a symptom of perception rather than a real trend of the underlying cause. More people are willing to talk in this relatively anonymous fashion of blogging. It may have theraputic values so what’s the harm?

Whether the trend is true or not, threre are some problematic relationships posted in blogs. Some blogs have gone extinct as the problems among the players escalated. Others persevered, and yet, new cuckold relationships have been proposed, fantasized, and implemented.

I have left comments on several of these blogs, and may have stepped on some toes with my assessment. This is a fun subject, so I am willing to deal with it to a small exent on this posting.

What Is Cuckoldry?

The simplest definition of the word cuckold is by Meriam Webster: A man whose wife is unfaithful.

It is obvious that the meaning has changed since the time this definition was made. But let’s try to find some reasons why the wife would be unfaithful in any sense of the word. By the way, I am not treating this broad subject to cover any relationship other than between a married man and wife. I also want to point out a fact: cuckoldry has to do with sex, and only sex.

Why Cuckoldry?

1. Her husband had been unfaithful, and therefore, she no longer feels committed to be true.
2. Her husband is long-term, or terminally ill, and incapable of providing her need.
3. She once loved her husband, but in the mean time, another stud came along who could provide all the sex she wants (but not necessarily the support for her present and future well being).
4. She was never serious about her husband, and hurting him in this way does not matter to her.
5. She has always wanted more than one sex partner, and being married had not changed that.
6. Her husband is sexually inadequate.
7. Her husband has hinted, maybe even helped her to becoming a cuckold.
8. Her husband has insisted that she help him fulfill his fantasy of being a cuckold.
9. Her husband went along with his own or somebody’s fantasy of his wanting to be humiliated, and be used by both his wife and the man who gives her sex.
10. Et. Cetera.

The above list is arranged in order of the severity of lack of a good excuse for cuckoldry. With the first few the woman may have an excuse, and the man may or should condone her acts. After that, the situation takes a different direction. Based on the incomplete list, cuckoldry is not necessarily a positive situation. The items starting with number 6 are fodder for the blogs whose theme, or at least partial theme, is cuckolding. It is also where fantasy enters the picture, whereas the first 5 items are based on reality.

I am not suggesting that items 6 and on are necessarily fantasy. What I mean is that the action of the partners involved is a result of fantasy. If they act on it, it becomes real.

Where The Rubber Meets The Road

A young couple, married or not, can do experimentation in sex covering a wide sort of excesses. They may learn from it, and become wiser. Some will continue the mistakes. What they have is enough chips to play the game for a while. The problem is, people don’t generally remain young, and able to pursue strange games without repurcussions. There are dsyfuncional people who try, and they end up in emergency rooms without funds to pay the cost, or worse, in the morgue.

Cuckoldry is not that dangerous, but it is right up there on the scale of the irresponsibility factor. As we age, we lose more of our chips in the game. The time comes when we need to be responsible for more than just ourselves. And that is when cuckoldry becomes potentially destructive to anyone around. That is when fantasy no longer should drive our actions. Sure, we can still play, but everything comes with a price. When all the chips are gone, it is time to stop playing.


About Item 6 above, give me a frigging break! This appears to be a common theme in the cuckoldry blogs. This is also a pathetic reason for cuckoldry. I know that there are still married couples that had not shared sex before marriage, but they are a dying breed. Most people today shared their little secrets, so if a man was inadequate, i.e., had a tiny cock, the woman would have known that. So why did she marry him if that was an issue? In addition, if it was not an issue then, why has it become an issue later?

About Items 7 and 8, unless she wants to have extramarital sex, this is an issue for a marriage counselor, and eventually for a divorce lawyer.

About Item 9, it seems that there is mutual satisfaction, so if nobody outside the three players is hurt as a result, then all is well. Then again, there is always more than what one assumes at the start. There are petty jealousies, hurt feelings, broken promises, unwarranted expenses, social embarrassments, sexualy transmitted deseases, unexpected pregnancies, etc. As long as you can sail through these rapids, you are all right, but watch your ass when they hit the rocks below.

When three people are involved, it is easy for two to take sides against the third. Regardless of how submissive or commited that third person is, he has a breaking point. There are some things that once broken, cannot be mended.

But Wait, There Is More

In all fairness, I have to admit that there are benign relationsips that persist, and need not result in pain and destruction. Even when a couple has young children this is a possibility. But then the relationship shifts from cuckoldry to a threesome or foursome, or just a stable relationship among friends with mutual respect and higly sexual expectation where nobody is truly being hurt or humiliated. The sumbmissive man in the relationship may still have to “serve” his wife or the other male, but that is part of the scenario to which all agreed. If it lasts, it is because they all want it to last. It is almost like a marrige between two men and a woman.

But this is not a situation when the wife finds some horny men over the internet, and the two or three of them end up in an overnight stay at a cheap motel while hubby is fantasysing at home. He waits for wifie to return to ride his face so that he can clean out the other men’s juices. It’s great to imagine while one is masturbating, but not to actually experience. Usually, life has some nasty surprises around every corner, and there is a very good chance that the nasties will show up more often than not.

The Children Know

We have been at this so long that all of our children know about some of what we do. We had never become blatant, but for example, my natural state at home is widely assumed due to joking remarks and a request to telephone before they visit.

A few weeks ago MW rented a couple of suites in a nearby resort to spend time with her friends, you know, the food and movie debauchery that none of them would do at home. When I went with her to help with luggage, etc., the plan was for me to stay overnight and then come home.

Prior to my leaving I planned to put away the signaling device, and any toys that would be indicative of our kinky tendency in sex play and lifestyle. I was also planning to lock our bedroom, and to turn off my computer. Makes sense, right?

My activities just before leaving assumed a rather stressful state. Things came up with which to deal, so my list of important chores sort-of fell into a crack. I did go through the steps, however, to turn off my computer.

At the resort later in the day we talked with one of our sons, over the phone, who indicated that he would go to our house to do some of his laundry. His being a fledgling, I said OK, and thought no more of that. After I returned home the next day I took care of some chores, then realized that I neglected to execute my plan before leaving. Our bedroom was not locked; even worse, the door was left wide open. My signaling device was left on top of my desk next to the computer. Worse even, my computer was still waiting for me to choose between “terminate this process” or “continue”. It ran into a problem so it did not shut down. What that meant, was that anyone could have run through all of my stuff, the browsing history, etc. All password-protected files were still open, … you get the picture.

I figured that our son came and saw all. I did not want to telephone him since I was trying to minimize his attention to our kink. I did not feel particularly good about it, but what was done, was done, so I went on.

A couple of days later I received some information that our son may have not actually come to the house at all. That would mean that he did not see any of our private stuff (this time), and that my computer secrets remained so.

Yesterday he came to visit. He and I discussed some current events in the living room. He asked, “Where’s Momma?”

“She is in her bedroom. She has been working hard, and is now relaxing with her computer.”

After we finished our business, he said, “May I visit her?”

“Of course, she would like that,” I casually replied.


After he left for home, I went to MW’s room and said, “The boy has left.”

“Yes. He probably saw all the whipping devices that were by the side of my bed.” She implied that I should have warned her before the boy went into her room.

We have fewer secrets as we go. Of course, the boy is not really a prude. I have seen handcuffs and chains in his room years before.

Oh, The Children!

I have obtained inspiration from Mistress Kathy’s blog, and have commented on them a number of times. She is a caring and loving leader in her marriage, and a disciplinarian to her submissive husband. She is also good at relating to us the way she sees things. We need not agree with everything she says, but it is fun reading, and she is right most of the time. This time she again inspired me to post by her statement:

“On some level I would like to talk with my daughter. I would like to tell her that as part of her father's love for me he gives me complete obedience. I would like to tell her that I train and discipline him to be a better husband. I want to tell her that sweet, obedient men are truly a gift from God to be appreciated and loved. However, this is a conversation that I can not find the words to start.”

We try to teach our children to do the right thing, so that they survive and prosper. But in Mistress Kathy’s statement there is more. She wants to give her daughter information that, she assumes, would improve the lives of everybody around her. Alas, social prejudices prevail. Pity.

My wife and I don’t blatantly display our lifestyle to anyone. Our children may have some suspicions about who is in charge, but have no knowledge that I get my ass whipped if I don’t behave. In a way, I see nothing wrong with their learning that. We are not imposing our particular lifestyle on them if this became known.

The problems are based on current mores. In a patriarchal society, which is mostly what we live in, the man should be in charge, but not necessarily discipline his wife, and certainly not in an abusive way. It would be equally bad if a wife were to discipline her husband in an abusive way. Justification for either is a matter of subscribing to a degree of D/S.

Another problem we face is that parents are supposed to educate children by example. If the parents are dysfunctional, what does that convey to the children? A man who abuses his children or wife is dysfunctional. He may disagree, but it clearly shows that he does not have the mental capacity to be rational and fair. The same goes for a woman who behaves similarly.

Now, if we step back a bit, and get into kinky stuff, we can rationalize a lot. If a woman loves to submit to a dominant man, and loves to be locked into a cage occasionally, or even receive corporal punishment, is anyone being abused? Her male partner may be doing all that to satisfy her need to be treated that way. Given that, I see nothing wrong with a woman satisfying her man’s need to be dominated in any way to which they both agree. But this is not something that either of them would want to discuss at great length with their children. It’s kind of like not discussing the details of their sexual intercourse: the children know that it happens, but the details are not necessary. I would also have a problem with the children seeing their father's ass whipped by their mother for some assumed misbehavior.

To impart any of this to our children it may be sufficient to demonstrate the basics. For example, how their father behaves with respect to their mother, with his children, and with people in general.

I don’t feel the need to impress anyone. I know that there is always some other person who is better than I am at whatever I am trying to prove about myself. At some point in my life I concluded that my actions speak more about me than any words. I let people make up their mind about me based on what they see me do. In the same sense, our children make up their mind about my wife and me. The nice thing about this is that I never have to explain the reason for whatever I do. If they don’t see it right away, they will in a while given the context.

My wife and I have agreed several times that it would be good to introduce FLR to our daughter and daughter-in-laws. However, we decide not to share this aspect of our life so blatantly. If our actions don’t demonstrate it, they probably would not benefit from it. If they already suspect, then they know more than we assume, and should know what to do with it.

Getting back to Mistress Kathy’s comment, I think that she could tell her daughter the generality of her relationship with her husband. Her daughter need not see it the same way, but it does not matter. Kathy should keep the details to herself, for they are irrelevant to the matter of educating her daughter. This would relive stress all around.

Bumps, Dents, Bruises, and Welts

This all got started a few days ago by MW. I have already posted about it a couple of times (see Phase of the Moon and She is on a Roll). We are not really into D/S that deeply, although I could go way more. The thigh and cock and ball bruises were photographed a few days after the event, so they have faded in the mean time.

After she got started on this project things progressed. It was not simply a benign over the knee bare hands spank. She used a paddle, so it was likely to leave a mark:

The right side turned out more in the pink, so the next day she decided to fix that by applying the crop to the left side more this time.

It appears, however, that she was still not satisfied with the results, so the next evening she did some combination as you can see.

But a good Domina’s job is never done.

By this time the right cheek had lost most of its character, so, she is planning to work on it with a cane next. In the often-quoted and undying words of Robin Williams in Popeye, “I can’t remember ever having so much fun and still be conscious.”

Now, if any of you think that I am complaining, you are wrong. I am, as MW and I often say, remarkable. She is simply using her talent for marking and later re-marking me. With her being an artist, to her I am like a formerly blank canvas, with her work in progress. One of these days she may even give a different kind of renewable gift. However, I must not be greedy. Any attention from her to me is a gift already. Then if she enjoys it, I appreciate it even more.

I Could Have ...

This is not about regret, rather, about alternate unreality.

I could have gone to law school.

I could have gone to medical school.

I could have become a politician to represent many of us.

I could have become a professional soldier.

I could have become a higher-ranking professional in law enforcement instead of choosing to remain on the street.

I could have succumbed to the charms of that sweet young woman while in college.

I could have stepped out into that line of fire.


The only regret I have is what I had not done when I should have.

Decisions at any time are based on wisdom and current data. Hindsight comes from the future; therefore, it is not available at the time of decision. Pity.

I stand by what I actually had done. Right or wrong, I took it from there, for that is reality. It is the sum of my deeds, and I accept the fallout. I can never go back to change course.

I don’t blame another person for what could or would not happen. My own decision always made the difference. Using blame is convenient, but worthless. Even blaming myself for bad decisions is worthless. My bad decisions may have hurt others, but guilt about those decisions hurt only me, and will change nothing. Right or wrong, past decisions may drive me in a different direction, but reality is always from there on. Taking responsibility for my decisions is a measure of my worth.

I have consciousness, therefore, I have free will. Only when free will is taken from me do I become blameless. But that is a paradox.

She Is On A Roll

She is on a roll … I joined her in the bedroom last night. She was already lying on the bed, displaying much of her beauty. I really wanted to dive in and take my pleasure there and then. But you know me: I am polite and considerate. That would have been a typical horny man’s act, whereas, I am pussyfied in that respect. I wait to be invited after showing my admiration. In this case the admiration was evidenced by my instant erection. But I don’t want to brag.

I showered, and then returned to her to apply the daily lotion to her feet and legs. That is a lovely ritual that we share. In some ways it is therapeutic. If we had tension between us, this simple act of love, kindness, and devotion mitigates it. We may not resolve deep issues, but we come away with good feeling at least.

She was watching a TV program while I was doing these lovely things. I asked her to move into a more convenient position so that she can continue viewing the display while I enjoy myself by giving her a full body massage. We did.

I don’t remember at what point or how she decided, but she sent me to fetch one of her riding crops. After my returns she ordered me to get into a position on hands and knees on the bed, then she began to impart pain to my ass and thighs. I know, this sounds clinical, but it was nothing like that. It was very personal. Actually, she was determined to leave some marks that would persist for some days, and made sure that she was progressing in that respect. From my point of view, it simply hurt like hell. But what do I know?

After the treatment we continued with her full body massage. I really, truly wished that she would tell me to serve her orally. She did not. The evening was good in any case. I fetched some dessert for her. After her dessert she turned off the TV and the light, and left to do some private thing in another room, letting me to go to sleep. This morning she asked me about the marks that she had left. I assured her that the marks were there. Not that I could actually see my own ass, but my hand did. The marks were still three dimensional. What a woman!

By the way, the bruises on the inside of my thighs from the night before are still prevalent. They don't hurt, but look enticing. They remind me of MW's doing things to me.

God, I love Women!

I need to be methodical about describing this feeling to be sure that nobody would be ignored. I know, there is a sexual component, and presenting it first speaks for itself. Yes, I covet, and desire women. For all I know, that may be my primary motivation for what follows. But I honestly claim a less ignoble motive than sex. There is nothing wrong with sex under the right circumstances, and it does tend to keep the human race viable. But for now sex is not the issue.

I think that all rational humans have a special place in their consciousness to store precious things. You know, like favorite mental trinkets from the past, views of nature’s grand demonstration of things way beyond our ken, memories of exact and limited nature, and our views of people whom we treasure.

I have a huge store of things I love. By far the most significant is for women. God, I love women! It is not simply a matter of orgasm, in case you think that my limited male mind is simply driven by that. More is to come, so to speak.

My first true love was for my mother. I know that she was not a saint, but if I had the power, I would have bestowed sainthood on her, with the exception of the obligation to live up to it. I just simply loved her, and would have given my life to or for her if needed. Alas, she left this life without my ability and participation to make a change. I feel guilty.

My second true love was, and is, for my sister. She is not quite as saintly as my mother, but close enough. She challenged me to become what I am today, and shares the responsibility for the result.

My third true love was, and is, for my wife. MW is the love of my life. I may bitch from time to time, but she is my prime directive. You, readers of this blog, are expected to correct me when I fail in expressing this repeatedly.

My fourth true love is for my daughter. MW and I produced this wonderful person, and she continues to give us joy and pain. She is beautiful in all ways. Everybody loves her.

My fifth love is for all the women whom our sons had brought into our family. MW and I remain, or try to remain un-judgmental. I love our daughter-in-laws. They are special women in our lives.

Then there is the rest of roughly half the population of earth: women. I would so much love to do justice to them. Not necessarily in a sexual manner, although that would be fun. It is more like making sure that they are given the opportunity to be whom and what they want to be. Even more so, that they are given some love, so that they can mature in a loving way themselves, and do what they are capable of doing.

God, I love women!

Followers ...

Dear People,

Those of you who have decided to sign up as "followers", and I don't take that lightly, I thank. I appreciate your interest in my foibles and occasional joy of life. I want to follow up on your link, but at the moment I am challenged. I need to find the way to link to your blog, website, or email, so that I can say "thank you" in a benign way. Meanwhile, know that I appreciate your interest.


As for those of you who attach yourselves to my hull like barnacles and offer only commercially despicable offers, please detach yourselves. You will get no business from me. You are just polluting the webspace.

Phase Of The Moon

It must be the phase of the moon that compels MW to do or not do these things. One of my wishes is for her to be turned on by whipping my ass, and then to use me for her satisfaction, and leaving me wanting more. Well, actually, some of that does happen, but not all necessarily connected in a causative way.

Just a few of hours after my last posting she summoned me to our bed, and gave me many strokes with a paddle whose photograph I have posted before here. Just out of the blue she did that. Aside from the skin on my ass being sore and hurting like hell while she was doing it, the experience was right out of my fantasies.

Later we were reclining in bed watching a movie. She said, “Get me some tit clamps.” Being a well-planned traveler, I always have my kit in order. I reached to my nightstand and produced a pair of excellent clamps connected with a piece of rawhide, and handed it to her. I knew that she was not intending to affix the device to herself, so I braced myself for the inevitable. Yes, she did affix the little buggers to my tits. As the movie progressed she began to do more. She whipped my cock, she whipped my balls, and she yanked the rawhide. Now, some of you might think that all that was pointless, and you might be right. But, I think that it was a gift from her to me. Hours later I thanked her profusely for my suffering and for her attention to me. No, I did not get my rocks off, and did not get to serve her orally either. However, it was a thrill anyway, and would not have missed it for even a glass of wine. Make that a barrel of wine.


It is now some hours later that I add this post script. I have had a chance to look at my thighs. The front and inside are showing bruises that could have been made only by MW's loving hands and tools. They are not excessive, but they remind me of the pain and pleasure we shared last night. Mostly my pain and her pleasure, but that is as it should be.

Back To Ignore And Denial

I have done much reading and produced juicy pre-cum over forced male chastity, and tease-and-denial stories. I still like to read them, but I am becoming jaded. The story needs to be more radical, or else, it does no longer give me the hardon and the subsequent production of pre-cum.

Right. Much like the old saying, “There aren’t any old jokes, just old people who have heard them all.” Yeah. I’m one of the old people, at least when it has to do with this subject.

I still get off on forced male chastity in a big way, but I tend to carry the fantasy to a higher plane. It needs to do with a woman who cares about the result. She needs to be involved. She might have stuff going on the side, but I must be attended from time to time. Yes, it is topping from the bottom, but it does not matter, because this is my fantasy.

There are extreme male fantasies that involve irrevocable acts, such as surgical removal and alteration of some parts. The fantasy is great, but the result is dismal. I don’t see myself happy, regardless of how subservient I may be to a woman or a man, if my cock or balls or both have been removed or altered surgically for real.

So you can see where my mind has traveled, at least to what I have admitted. In a more benign male chastity situation to which I am subjected for real, it has its good and bad periods. The bad periods have to do with the title of this posting that deals with "Ignore and Denial. As long as I am not encased in a chastity device, I can, and might, satisfy myself daily, or as often as I deem necessary. But something would be missing in this scenario.

Say, if I were single, I would do what I said above. But I am not single. I am married to my sweetheart. Could it be that she is not listening to my plaintive cries?

Well, Damn!

This is an update on the planned reunion with MW. She asked me to bring more essentials to her well being while at the resort with her friends, and in turn she would do things to me. I did bring clothes, coffee making apparata, and the toys that she requested. You know, toys like a riding crop, and such. I showed up with the goods that MW determined essential, had a wine, and visited with them. Later, the four of us, Anthea, Dolores, MW, and I, had a great dinner that Dolores prepared.

Dolores and I must have been fairly well into the wine. As I tried to make my exit for the night she came over to hug and do her special kiss on my lips. I usually can’t get away without at least a hug. I reciprocated for once, and grabbed her ass with both hands as we kissed. It was only later I realized that my automatic response to a kiss should be reserved to MW. OK, I am guilty. However, I enjoyed it for the moment. She has an ass that just asks to be grabbed.

MW and I spent the night in the same bed, but it was all just friendly time together. Yes, her naked ass was tempting, but by then she was asleep. Besides, I don’t do anything unless I am invited. She promised benefits to me in the morning, but the implementation fizzled. Her friends were supposed to leave for business purposes, and be gone for several hours. During this time MW assumed that she would do evil and wonderful things to me, and not worry about what noises I would make. Alas, her friends, being somewhat flaky in decision-making, stayed in.

Promises of consummation of certain things were not fulfilled. Instead of thoroughly perverted sex, we had a long and pleasant conversation while we shared my powerful coffee. Later I left for home taking a load of unessential stuff that we should not have brought with us in the first place. I was also having thoughts of furious masturbation.

But damn! I felt that I woud be cheating on her, so I did not do it. Not even later in the day.

MW Is On Vacation Again

By now, if you had been paying attention since way back, you would know that she does go on vacations without me. That also involves my setting it up for her, and for her friends. She had made all the arrangements with respect to reservations, time and date of grouping for the excursion, etc., also for my hauling the frigging luggage for a week’s stay. Holy cow! I think they could have existed in style for four weeks, rather than one. Then again, I am just a man who thinks that a bottle of wine, a good book, will sustain me for a day. Multiply that by seven, and you get the idea.

Just a note, I had to change the names of her two friends to avoid some reader identifying us.

I underestimated the amount of preparation that I had to endure. We were late. After stopping to buy essential groceries, we arrived at Anthea’s place. I drove our family vehicle in anticipation of accommodating all of her luggage. After several trips down and up the second story condo I had all Anthea's stuff stowed and ready to go. We drove to the resort that MW arranged. Nothing special about the trip, just that, I still had to deal with other details.

Check-in was a bore but uneventful. MW’s other friend, Dolores, was already there waiting for us. I wound my way around the quaintly laid out units to find the proper building, and parked our vehicle. Dolores and husband followed. While I took the next fifteen minutes to move all of Anthea’s and MW’s stuff into the adjacent units, Dolores’s husband struggled to move hers and some other stuff in as well. He was actually in the role of a driver, too, so he left after the lugging of luggage. I, on the other hand, stayed. Well, I took a good slug of Scotch to lubricate my bearings, and helped with stowing the goods.

Being late afternoon, MW realized that I needed sustenance. I had breakfast early, but nothing since then. I opened an excellent Cabernet in anticipation of relaxation. The three ladies partook and agreed about the goodness of this most excellent wine.

Damn, that was indeed a good bottle of wine. While I sipped my own glass of wine MW, being her sweet self, fixed me a great sandwich, which I then had for dinner. I did some required maintenance to support the three of them, then I retired to our suite while she and her friends enjoyed the evening in the adjoining suite. I am not into girl stuff, and they know it, so I get away with it. Besides, they get to dress in almost nothing, and MW does not want me to be there to make them feel uneasy. Right! As if I or they would feel uneasy? I would not. Still, MW is in charge, so I stayed in my uniform in our unit, while the ladies lounged in the other as they wished. Just one thin door away … Jeez, I hoped my hardon would not punch through that door. I read a book for some hours while MW checked on me from time to time. After that I went to sleep.

In the morning I was up early as usual. After coffee, I tried to use my laptop to check email and such. Alas, it all fizzled. I was unable to make a connection. I did some maintenance, some reading, and waited for MW to wake. When she did, I made more coffee, and we talked for hours. But, you know, when two people lie naked in bed, one thing leads to another. For the moment she suspended her “ignore and denial” rule (see Ignore And Denial) and dropped into her previous favorite, “tease and denial”. Oh yes, my tits were tender, my balls ached, and she gave me an order to show up two days later with the requisite toys. Then she got back to doing what she had been doing. It was hard for me to avoid dumping my balls during this, but with great attempt at control I managed. Actually, she just stopped short of my losing control. Several times.

I left for home, for I had work to do. After work here I am, waiting for two days to join her and suffer or enjoy what she is willing to give me. I may let you know the outcome. Meanwhile MW and friends are enjoying culinary delights that they do only once or twice a year. They also stay up much of the night watching chick flicks and drinking Champagne and such. They can be very decadent. I whish though, that I would be the main course. Alas, MW has other ideas. Meanwhile I read the dictionary to keep my mind off the stuff to come.

In Defense Of Deadly Force

Gun ownership is somewhat like Mr. Obama's Gov'ment Healthcare: it divides people into two groups. One group is completely for it, the other is completely against it. I don't think that we will ever agree on them. I have not received any flaming comments lately, so I thought that I would write something provocative and see what happens.

Gun Owners Are Nuts

A few days ago I listened to a state politician’s tirade against guns, calling every gun owner “a nut”, and “one who would shoot up the town at the slightest assumption of provocation”. Obviously, being elected to a state office does not have a pre-requisite of being rational. This man was clearly off the deep end.

It’s Not How Fast You Are …

Years ago I watched a Western movie in which a pipsqueak of a gunfighter forced an old codger into accepting his challenge. After the gun smoke cleared, the codger stood holding his hand on his bleeding ribs, saying, “It’s not how fast you’re with a gun, but where you put the bullet…” The pipsqueak lay in the dust before him.

Trained Killers

I went through basic training in one branch of the US armed forces. I succeeded, in theory, to a certain level, and I attained the badge of “expert rifleman”. What that meant then is that I could have maybe seven hits out of ten shots. The ones, who had more hits, were destined to specialize in becoming snipers if their demeanor could handle it. Becoming a sniper was neither my inclination, nor within my skill.

Some years later when I went through police academy one of the qualifying tests was what was called, “tactical”. I already knew where I was in reality: so-so, with respect to hitting the target. At the beginning of the test, my first target was a steel silhouette, one hundred yards away (three hundred feet, or 91.44 meters), which would pivot if I hit it with a bullet from my handgun as I was running to complete the test in the allotted number of seconds. I tried not to play John Wayne, so I stopped, aimed, and fired. Sonofagun! The target pivoted with a satisfying “plink” half a second after I pulled the trigger. I may have made history there, but I considered my prior mediocre achievements with respect to hitting the target, and attributed it to chance. The rest of the time, and later on the force when I had to re-qualify repeatedly I was adequate, but never that good. We have never been encouraged or tested to do fast draw, and I can think of several reasons for that.

Let’s face it; we were trained to be killers in both cases. In the armed forces it was part or the entire job. With the police, well, it was another situation with far more implications. Under the best of circumstances a police officer will never kill another human. Yet we expect him to disarm and arrest a dangerous or deranged criminal who is in a position to do great harm.

First consideration is whether I should pull the gun out of the holster at all. Next, making sure that I have a clearly defined target, and finally, whether to pull the trigger. The only times these considerations don’t apply is when the deadly danger is unavoidable: someone points a gun at me, wields a two-by-four within a short distance of my head, or drives a car at me deliberately, and so on. On the job it causes an automatic reaction of moving out of the line of fire and responding with whatever it takes.

Off the job, it is just like with the rest of you: if someone points a gun at me, he is not asking for a verbal answer. If he is, that is a really stupid and deadly way to go about it. Not my fault if he gets hurt. There are gray areas. Even when I see a person about to shoot another, I must evaluate the situation. Does the gunman pose a threat? Does he mean to kill? Most of us have never experienced this, and never will. Not having a gun in your possession all you can do is duck, keep your eyes open, and try to remember what takes place as someone is being killed. If you survive, you can tell the police about it. If you have a gun, you may be able to prevent a murder or a rape.

The perpetrator’s life is worth less than the victim’s, regardless of what the politically correct bleeding hearts try to tell you. If a woman does not ask to be raped, and she is being raped, the perpetrator of this crime forfeits his life, whether by the action of an armed citizen, or the jury after months or years of judicial deliberation. In my state, justifications for using deadly force are self defense against clear and deadly force, defense of another person against clear and deadly force, and stopping an on going or about to occur rape. However, regardless of how guilty a criminal might be, if he is running away after a crime, there is never a legal justification for deadly force. Pity.

Those of you who think that only the police should have guns may be right to a small extent. In an ideal law-abiding society with no criminals, even the police need not have guns. Then again, we would have no need for the police either.

We do not live in an ideal society. Making the possession of guns illegal is useless, because criminals and deranged people don’t abide the law, and will use guns as you and I use a fork with a meal: as they deem necessary. If a criminal knows that I may be armed, he is less likely to start anything illegal in my presence. That is the real purpose of being armed. Oh, and another: being prepared to use it when warranted.

Why Have Guns?

A gun is the choice of offensive weapon for today’s criminal. It’s small, any idiot can use it, fits in his pocket, and easy to obtain without a permit or traceability. Once on the job to use it, whether he escalates to the use of automatic weapons and bombs, or stays with a single handgun, it is unlikely that he could be disarmed or killed by using kind words, pepper spray, or a baton.

There have been several mass murders in the last two decades, none perpetrated by a man licensed to carry a concealed weapon. Take the Columbine incident as an example. The two killers, Harris and Klebold, were psychotic teenagers. In addition to legal and illegal guns they used propane tanks, nails, and explosives in homemade devices to add to their arsenal. Yes, it is illegal to bring a firearm to a school campus, but they were not concerned about that. After all, who was going to stop them? The propane tanks and nails are not specifically mentioned in federal or state statutes as being illegal on campus, but as I said, these killers were not worried about being legal.

My point is that killers will always find a way, and a legally armed citizen may be able to stop them. Somebody might get hurt in the process; then again, mass killers want somebody to get hurt. I would rather take a chance on having an armed citizen there as a deterrent or to minimize the damage, even if an innocent bystdander gets hit. We will never know what the outcome would have been with the presence of a couple of armed teachers, but I doubt it would have been worse. These killers did gun down an unarmed teacher who was trying to help the students to get away. I have been in hostage rescue situations, and can tell you that the bad guys can and should be disabled early in their transgression before they do their damage. You will get a different view from official police organizations, but only because they have to cover their asses with respect to law suits, which is why the swat team at Columbine did not go in there and take out the perps at the beginning. Individuals of the force will back me up on this.

Living Or Dieing By Your Decision

A philosophical argument on this issue would be based on my right to take another human’s life. Gun ownership is not a philosophical issue. I could use a propane tank, a pipe bomb, a motorized vehicle, a baseball bat, a knife, or anything to kill one or more people. Having a gun has little to do with my deranged motive.

My argument is not philosophical; rather, it is based on reasonable judgment. As such, you will have a counter-argument, and we may never agree. Keep in mind, however, that, you are, as an adult, responsible for your own actions. Also keep in mind that you are not responsible for the actions of another person. For example, a criminal in action is responsible for his own deeds. You cannot "cause him to do things", neither are you responsible for what he does. All you can do is sit back and wait for him to do his evil deed, or end his life abruptly if you have the means.

Since your mommy and daddy are not there to keep you from coming to harm, that responsibility is yours. The police is somewhat effective in crime disposal, but less so in crime prevention. They simply cannot always be there to protect you. Sometimes it is best if you protect yourself until the police arrive. If you live to tell them about it, you have done well.

To be sure, taking a life in self-defense or in the defense of another person is a tremendous responsibility and a life-long burden. Some people cannot live with it. I do not advocate killing, but as lawyers tend to say, “there are mitigating circumstances”.

Or as I say, “sometimes the lowlife asks for it”. Harris and Klebold asked for it, and since nobody complied (the swat team was still outside waiting for the bean counters to decide), they themselves satisfied their own need. However, between the time they began their methodical hunting and killing of unarmed people, and their self-inflicted exit, they had done much damage. I can’t help but think that even one armed person would have reduced their effectiveness in killing.

I know, it takes balls to intervene in a violent situation. But when someone is obviously going to kill me, and I have a gun, what could I lose? What would that heroic teacher at Columbine have lost by shooting back? Certainly not his life. He died of several gunshot wounds anyway. Having a gun he may have prevented some killing.

When The Magic Ends

You are infatuated. You are in love with love. You see romance even in the mundane flapping of an open shutter in the wind. You are happy to see him when he stumbles out of bed looking only partly awake. His unshaven chin is endearing, you rub it on your bare shoulder just to feel his difference from you: he is hard and prickly against your soft smoothness. You complement each other. You miss him when he reads in the bathroom for five minutes while he sits on the toilet. You plan the day of outings, the trip to the flea market, the sandwich shop in the old farmhouse, the buying of a nightie that the two of you discussed. Then you change your mind and want to stay in. You want to put on a CD to hear its music in the background while you lounge in panties only, and watch his reaction as he walks in to see you. You grab him and pull him to you. Your kiss, returned by him, lingers until both of you must change position as kissing fatigue sets in. You share strong coffee and talk of trivia. Then you do it again.


The morning is there, but you want another hour of sleep. You hear the shower. He is up already, getting ready to go to work. You think of his hard body under the water shedding its soapy sheen. You remember the last words from him the night before: “leave me alone”. You fought over expenses. His spending on yet another electronic gadget, and your spending on still more shoes and clothes. The card is maxed. Your job is about to expire. He spends many evenings surfing the net while you watch TV in the bedroom alone. You barely see each other any more. You think of the wild sex you used to have. In reality, the last time you did anything meaningful was months ago.



He has a business trip to attend, and will be gone for several days. You look forward to his being away so that you can relax and not have to deal with his sullen looks and his accusations of your being cold. You get a peck on the cheek as he leaves for his car carrying his suitcase. Not even a goodbye. Well fine! You will be just great alone for a change not having to dread his coldness.

He does not call. You get together with your girlfriend and have lunch and see a movie. You feel good for once, like you used to. Then you go home and want to call him and tell him that you want your best friend back. But you think that would be capitulating, so you dismiss that thought. Besides, he should be the one calling. But he does not call. You go to bed early after two glasses of wine. You cry. Then you weep. Then you feel devastated for having wasted your love on a useless piece of male. You sleep but have bad dreams.

You are up early because you are tired of trying to rest. You get on your treadmill and walk miles while listening to blues. Afterward you spend half an hour in the shower to remove your sweat, your body hair, and your pains. You feel better, and have a good breakfast. You cry for not having what you used to have: a friend, a lover, a soul mate who thinks that you cannot do wrong. After you recover you want to call him, but you know that he is at work, and he would resent the intrusion. You decide to write him a letter. You type on your computer,

Dear,

I miss the early days when we couldn’t do wrong, those days when all was magical and full of purpose and hope. What have we done wrong? Why have we lost that confidence we shared? Is our love gone, or are we just overwhelmed with worries of everyday problems?

I want us to renew our pledge that we believed in. We are still strong. We can mend our broken promises.

Please be willing to do so with me.

Love,
…

After thinking about it you kill the file. It would be like giving in, like admitting that you are at fault. You put on makeup, dress, and go out to do some shopping. The mall is lively, but you feel alone. The fun you used to have looking at and trying on clothes does nothing for you now. You sit at a table of an atrium café. You see a seedy and bored housewife with toddlers in tow and a baby in carriage trying to get through. An old couple is walking by with the woman bitching to the man for lagging behind, while the man is trying to navigate around the chairs with his cane. A couple of teenagers are goofing around with leftover foods on some tables. A four-year old is running away from his mother who is trying to keep her composure as she chases him. You see purpose in the lives of these people. You even wish to be one of them for a moment.

You leave. Instead of going home you take a drive without a destination. After an hour or so you feel stupid, and turn back. At home you turn on loud music, and open a bottle of wine. You wake in the dark. The phone is ringing…

You knock over some items as you stumble for the receiver. It is he: “Honey, I’m not feeling good about a lot of things. I left you without a hug. I hope you aren’t angry.”

You weren’t angry, really, until now. You try to compose yourself when you say, “I don’t trust myself to talk now. Maybe tomorrow.” You hang up the phone, which rings again almost immediately. You ignore it.


A few days later he returns. He keeps his distance assuming that you are still angry. You wish that he would come to you, yet you are not sure how you would handle it. He says, “Honey, do you want me to sleep in the other bedroom …?” He waits for an answer that is not coming. He takes his suitcase into the other bedroom, showers, and comes out dressed in casuals. You pass him in the hall on the way to your bedroom.

In the morning you lie awake. You wait to be sure that he is gone when you leave the room. You don't want a confrontation that you are not prepared to handle. You don’t know what you want.

Later the phone rings. You know it is he, so you don’t answer. You cry silently. You feel as if a part of you had just left you forever. You think of the song you heard yesterday, “Can’t We Try?” You decide that you should try, but don’t know what you want.

What destroyed what you had at the beginning?

Was it sex, or the lack of it?

Was it incompatibility?

Should you have not gotten together with him given what you have now?

Have you learned anything?

Does he no longer hold a value for you?

Does years of your life merit redemption?

Is it time to part?

Where will you go, and what will you do?

Will you repeat the experience? Is this the rest of your life?

My Patriotic Friend

I came to a turning point in my youth when I would have died if I had stayed with status quo, and the decision had to be made in a matter of days. I am not talking inner city gang warfare or felonious activities. It is more along political and patriotic acts that most people do not take on knowing the consequences.

During the short time of decision making available before the sky fell on me I studied the options: stay and die, or leave. I left.

After a year of wandering over several countries I came to my destination, the USA. Shorthly after my arrival I was introduced to a man of interesting qualities. He, too, was an immigrant, but older, more educated, and more experienced than I. In him I saw the person who could guide me away from the bad things that held me before. He gave me the reason to do the right thing. He taught me that winning a battle is not the same as winning the war. He taught me that a war is never won over the long term. He taught me to care for the small things while I fight for the big things. He gave me strength to be an American patriot. He gave me the yearning to keep our rights and to fight for them. He taught me the history and the reason for the existence of the greatest country and nation on earth. This person gave me the material and the impetus to be who I am today. I will call him “My Patriotic Friend”.

Years later I served my time in the US armed forces, and in law enforcement after that. I am a product of that experience.

My Patriotic Friend is a poet and a thinker, whereas I tend to be a realist and a doer. With his guidance I have done well. I have referred to his memoirs and writings once before in Peasants In The Castle. I will use his writing and wisdom to share from time to time to illustrate a point or to add some spice to my blog. What I have found interesting is that his style of writing influenced me to the point where I see it as mine. In a way it is like plagiarism, only not. It could be that our shared heritage makes that an imperative. It could be that I simply like his style, so it is natural for me. I like to think that it is a tribute to an American patriot, a man of compassion, and a friend.

Women Versus Men ... Again

The following is supposedly attributed to Charlotte Whitton, a well known Canadian feminist.

Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult.

I can imagine being part of an audience of mixed gender and observing good natured amusement following this statement. It is meant to be funny, and it is funny in a way. I would let it go with the same mirth as one would, “Take my wife. … Please!” uttered by a former comedian.

If I had to pit my wit against a clever woman, I would likely lose eight out of ten matches. I would similarly lose eight out of ten matches against a clever man. Smarts, wisdom, wit, strength of character, and so forth, are not a product of genitalia. They are endowed by the DNA and then the rest is up to the parents who made or allowed the person to evolve, including nutrition and lack of exposure to lead, DDT, and other detrimental effects including measles.

I am not really wandering all over the place without clear point: women are not better nor worse then men. Anyone trying to prove otherwise is fighting a Quixotic and useless battle. This is where feminism fails the cause. It is pitting women against men for a bad reason. It alienates members on all sides, female, male, feminist, anti-feminists, and so on.

The cause in behalf of women should point out their potential for greatness, rather than pointing out the stupidity of men. We, men, acknowledge that some of us are stupid, and all of us act stupid from time to time. In addition, I speak only for myself here, I observe that some women are stupid, and many act stupid sometimes. My conclusion on this limited observation is that women and men are very much alike in this respect.

Anybody can come up with a counter example to dispute the generality that I have presented. Fine. I can come with another to dispute your dispute ad nauseam. That is trivial and it will get us nowhere. What is important is to avoid arbitrary claims, artificial limits, and false assumptions.

Any position, be it family, community, education, political, and others, should be filled by one who is able to obtain it through his or her merits. By the same reasoning, no person should be denied a position because of gender. Exceptions apply when they must, but not arbitrarily based on gender.

If you have the impression that I am patriarchal and anti-feminist, you are right. I am also matriarchal. Mostly, I love women, and wish for them to be what and who they want to be. I do all I can to make that possible. Just as I did all I could to make it possible for my daughters and sons to be their best.

A female in charge of a marriage is a wonderful thing. But she does not work alone. She needs support. The same goes for when a man is in charge. The problem is when the wrong gender is in charge. That is the reason for many failed marriages. Those of you reading this blog are likely to prefer Female Led Relationships. I do, and it may be for a selfish reason. It is because I am married to a woman, and also of my kinky feeling of wanting to give up my constant, nagging, weighing burden of responsibility for everything that goes on around me. I am not into threesomes or homosexuality as a choice, but even another man being in charge would release some of my burden. If my wife wants to take over and do all that I do, hey, I am all for it! Honey, you have the helm. Good luck.

The problem is, I cannot retire from life until I am dead. I am the person with the muscle to repair the roof, fix the sump pump, and take out the garbage. She, my queen, can still lead, and I wish that she does forever, but I cannot thrust my position to someone who is unable to handle it. So we each do what we can. She is good at what she does, the rest falls into my lap, as it should. She knows how to vacuum and mop, but I do it because of my strength and love. If she wants to change something, we try and see whether it works. Feminism does not affect our arrangement. Reality does.

Speaking of CBT

Well, we weren't really. But I was thinking of it.

We all know what CBT means. It is either to satisfy a sadistic female’s desires to hurt a male, or a masochistic male’s cravings to be hurt. Or both. Or a degree of both between loving partners. The common theme is that it is centered on the male genitalia. I am not suggesting that it is male centered, as such, except that the theme of this treatise is CBT, and only males have the C and the B in the T. Ok, we could talk about similar things where the female is the center of attention. Look at any BDSM theme on the internet, and that is about 99 percent of what you see. I am sick of it. Not necessarily because I just don’t want to see females being made “uncomfortable.” There is that too, but that is the reason why I don’t get off on pornography. It is male centered, and it does not cater to my needs. My needs being serving women. Simple, isn’t it?

What is it in your life?

MW and I like to play with a bit of CBT. Perhaps I crave it more than how much she desires to make me squirm. I guess we will never know who wants it more. I really don’t like the pain, but it feels so good when she stops. Silly.

One particular form of CBT is the benign but insidious chastity device. As I so adroitly pointed it out, it is not really chastity, but the idea of it that makes my day. Having something hard and unyielding on my private parts always does. I am an innovator and a craftsman. I have made many varieties of chastity devices ranging from totally useless and silly to heavy duty and serious. Some had been the product of my own fertile mind, others patterned after existing devices that we wanted, but were not willing to buy because of the price.

Whenever MW is on an extended trip, I am left to my own devices. My devious mind kicks in, and I go to work. I do a bit of metal and plastic cutting, welding, grinding, drilling, tapping, polishing, and before I know it, a have a prototype that many men would like to own. The fun is in the design, fabrication, trial, adjustment, and, of course, the expected and unexpected discomfort and pain. I end up discarding most of them. It’s no fun if I put it on myself without her telling me to do it. The other reason is that these are prototypes, and do not necessarily work out for longer periods, so when she comes home I don’t introduce them.

Back in our early days I removed my wedding ring from my finger to avoid damaging it while I worked in a chemistry lab. Looking around to find a safe place it occurred to me to put it on the Little Guy. My wife noticed it eventually, and it was a hit with her after I explained why it was not on my finger.

I have always liked to do things to my cock. By far the most extreme was my self-administered PA piercing late in our marriage and FLR. Sure, MW was supervising and taking pictures, but it was all my doing. But there is a lot of stuff a woman can do to me whose seriousness ranges between a simple ring on the shaft to a piercing. As horny and kinky as I am, I will take any of it, almost any time. Much of it is non-permanent, but once in a while we make a change that lasts longer than a simple bruise or cut. I am not talking mutilation, for I don’t get off on that. Then again, what is circumcision if not mutilation, and it is done with benign intentions. I never suffered that, but I fantasize about having it done to me as an adult, at the whim of a woman, just for the hell of it.

She took this photo before my PA piercing, after we were more seriously into

CBT as you can tell by the presence of Kali. I did point out in an earlier posting that even if I were the cheating male, with the Kali on, there is no way to cheat other than maybe masturbation. I have to be careful, however, to avoid prolonged erections because of the extreme pain. Of course, MW is not all that concerned with my pain, and does whatever it takes to give me an erection. She apparently enjoys the experience vicariously. I want her to enjoy herself, and do everything to support her. Aside from Kali, you can see that the wedding ring is a tad on the tight side. I never had a problem with it falling off under any circumstance. My sweet MW knows this, and once in a while uses me to satisfy herself manually so to speak. It is manual to the extent that she uses her own hand to grab the Little Guy (actually at those times he is the Big Guy) and would rub that sweet little nub at the apex of her nether lips with his head until she comes. You might think that it would feel very much like I am being masturbated during this time, and I have absolutely no reason for complaints. Well, you would be right. But there is more.

Aside from being a little kinky, as I said, the ring is tight. The tip of the Big Guy is huge, and there is considerable pain as she uses it to pleasure herself. There is nothing I can do but support myself on my elbows and enjoy her pleasure and my pain. When she is done, sometimes she lets me enter her at that point (unless I am wearing Kali). Of course, I must be careful not to be too rambunctious to avoid hurting her already tender parts with my ringed tool. In my aroused state I often get off after two or three strokes in spite of the pain. If I can’t, I withdraw and thank her. I thank her anyway. A few minutes of suffering will eventually allow me to revert him the Little Guy state, and the pain is then just a wonderful memory until next time.

Free Stuff From The Gov'ment

If you think health care is expensive now, wait until you see what it costs when it's free.

Attributed to P.J. O'Rourke

Perfection in Sight, Scent, Flavor, and Touch

It was dark, but I could see well enough to appreciate the contours, even the texture. It attracted my attention like any provocative sight would. I found it beautiful. Then there was the scent: it had not been washed, and was now open to the breeze. The natural pheromones that it exuded did grab me by the nose. I could live on that! I sniffed. I inhaled the aroma. It could not be better.

The texture and feel were what one would expect. I ran my fingers over it, and got what I expected: firm, yet pliable with a bit of softness near the surface. Next I used my lips, then my tongue over it. With the enchanting scent I could not resist. I took a bite. The flavor was exquisite: sweet, ripe, reminiscent of one of my favorite fruits. I took more bites and let the juices run down my elbow. Too bad that MW does not appreciate this as much as I do. She is into more spicy stuff.

I would want another from time to time. As you can tell, I love peaches.

The Goodness of National Healthcare

If anyone is convinced of the goodness, veracity, and viability of this proposed national (universal) healthcare, please don't hesitate to contact your Congressmen, Senators, and President, and ask for a "yes" or "no" answer to the following question: "Are you going to opt out of the best healthcare plan ever, the one that you have now at the taxpayers' expense, and then join the national healthcare plan?"

You will not get a yes/no answer, but some equivocation a-la-Sotomayor.

There is nothing new here. As mister Barack Hussein Obama said, this administration is going to "rule" (as opposed to "govern"). The administration's plan is patterned after "Animal Farm" and "1984". If you don't care to read either book, please first check out the Animal Farm link to see the amazing similarity already existing. As to where we are heading, check out the book "1984".

Those of you still in denial get a grip. Status quo is worse than even a year ago, but much better than where we are heading. Be careful what you wish.

Judgment Day

My cat awakened me at three in the morning. After that I was up, so I began to peruse the news as I guzzled my devastatingly strong coffee. First order of business was grabbing a link to a video of the questions that our Congress gave to the to-be-sure-to-be-appointed Supreme Court Justice, Sonya Sotomayor.

I am interested because I want to be informed of what controls my future. I watched about twenty minutes of a video where senators were asking her questions. During that time she spoke, but had not answered a single question.

If I were in the position of the Senator or Congressman asking the question, I would expect a "yes" or "no" to specific questions. After having received none, I would repeat, and ask Her Honor, the judge, to just say “yes" or "no”. But no, these old white men in Congress have no balls, and likely lack wisdom that a Latina like Sotomayor would contribute. They allowed her honor to filibuster until she ran out of time.

I would conclude that this person is incapable of making a commitment, is lying, or wants to cover her ass no matter what, so she is not taking a position on anything.

Sotomayor spoke for most of the time while I watched this video. I saw her, I listened to her own words. She said nothing that could be understood as yes or no. She had not answered a single direct question.

I gave up after a lot of disgust thinking that some of our members of Congress will push her into the position of a Justice of the Supreme Court regardless of her view, just because she is female, of a minority, and is compassionate about specific things.

Put yourself in Sotomayor's position, and ask, "Am I a minority? Am i a woman? Do I have a shitty background that makes me more compassionate than others? Do I have a wisdom that allows me to make a more valid decision than some old white man?" How would you answer?

I am not a Latina. I am a minority. I have compassion. I can tell the difference between "equal justice under the law" and "favoring ethnic or social groups". How would you respond?

I value the constitution of the United States of America above all. Without it we could be another France, Cuba, Venezuela, or Uganda. But when some elected politician says, “Our constitution is a living document, to be interpreted with compassion," I think, “vote the sucker out of office”. Alas, we can't vote Superior Court Justices out of office. Once in, they can do a lot of damage for life. As for the “Latina who can make judicial decisions better than old white men”, I’ll say, give her the boot now.

But then, I am a minority: male, conservative. My compassion is for the deserving tax-paying responsible citizen, rather than the stylized downtrodden abused vocal minority.

We have to support the ones who take responsibility and pay the bills. Otherwise, at some point, nobody will be paying your bills.

My Dedication to You

My Sweet Wife,

This day is not a sappy holiday, anniversary, or a day of guilt. I just want you to know about my thoughts for you.

It is not because of how you look,

It is not because of what you have done for me,

It is not because of what you do for me daily,

It is not because of who you are,

It is not because of what you have promised,

It is not what I expect from you.

Years ago I promised to love, and obey you till death do us part. I feel the same way now.

Nothing in life is perfect. We have problems and we try to deal with them. So I try to take it from there. I love you. I respect you. I treasure you. I covet your feminine charms. I want your occasional kinky moods. I don’t judge you. I will serve you as you need me. I will take use, abuse, and love as you decide. I will help you with your problems. Please rely on me, and we will have more joy in our lives.

Yours forever,

The horny guy

Enchanted

I don’t know of any male who has not succumbed to the charm of a woman in his life. A teenage boy meeting an older girl or woman becomes a vegetable when thinking about her. He is obsessed until the next heartthrob comes along, and the experience is repeated.

Later in life he is less easily swayed off his feet, but the stimuli that do it to him do not diminish. It could be a song by a woman. He could see a video about her, or even a clip in a movie that creates a fixation on some of her charms that might leave most women and many men untouched about her. But not him! He is fixated for the nonce.

In some instances all it takes is a photograph to set him in this mode of worship. She does not have to do anything. In fact, she could be totally innocent (oh, well, you know, “this time” anyway).

What is it that men find so attractive about women even in the abstract, such as a photograph that shows only socially approved prudence?

I remember two instances in my life that could have been life changing. They turned out not to be, because I was already married to MW, so any change at these times would have been inappropriate.

One was as I waited in a lobby to meet with a person on professional business. I was out of college, earning a good living, becoming good in my profession. I say this only to point out that I was not one of those horny, hungry, shallow, college students at the time (this was later). I had the perspective of home, family, plan for the rest of my life, etc... As I sat in a chair a young woman walked in to see the receptionist. She was about my height, endowed with curves rather than straight lines. Her waist length hair in a thick single braid swung across her back as she sinuously carried her charms across my field of view. Blond hair, wide curves, tall stature, perfect legs, young beauty. I was impressed. I could have followed her anywhere.

Next time was years later. I was on vacation. I walked into a farmer’s market place wanting to buy some fruit. I was already happily married to MW, so I was not exactly looking for extracurricular affairs. But there she was, the woman of any man’s dream. I stared, salivated, and hid my erection. I left to avoid a problem by embarrassing myself.

A man never really knows how he will be affected by a woman until it happens. Aside from the visual, in some cases aural enhancement that these wonderful creatures provide, there may be others…

My sense of smell is the most powerful of what I have. So, being close to a woman who attracts me can enhance her power tremendously by her emanating something that gets to my olfactory sensors. Perfume is the first one would think. Yes, it is a powerful attraction. Getting closer makes me accessible to subtle scents of her pheromones emanating from her skin, especially underarms. I am not talking gross sweaty odors. I am saying that a woman can be devastatingly charming by imparting some of her scent in an otherwise benign and civilized setting.

We can take this further by assuming some familiarity that would enable, even offer, the scent of her primary attraction. In, shall we say, professional or diplomatic situation, such scent may be offensive. But on a personal basis, when we are attuned to each other’s attraction, it can be devastating to a man. He becomes a slave to her in no time. Figuratively speaking, of course.

There is more about women, and I cannot do justice to it today, in this blog, or ever. But there is another aspect of a woman’s charm that consists of all of what I said above and more. It is total presence of her when a man meets her in person. Her visual attraction, her voice, the way she speaks, her manner of behavior, her dressing to the point, her vocabulary and how she conveys her thoughts can overwhelm any men. Any one or two of these attributes would do it. But in total, the man has no chance.

This brings me to one of my favorite songs, Summer Wine, by Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood.. I can have any number of interpretations and fantasies about this song. They all come back to a woman who decides to attract a man to herself, and he has no choice. She is confident. She knows what she is doing to him:

“Strawberries cherries and an angel's kiss in spring

My summer wine is really made from all these things

Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time

And I will give to you summer wine”

I would be attracted to the unfamiliar words and the meanings to be interpreted. Nevertheless, I would be very much attracted in any case. He is a willing victim into her snare. Just follow his words:

When I woke up the sun was shining in my eyes

My silver spurs were gone my head felt twice its size

She took my silver spurs a dollar and a dime

And left me cravin' for more summer wineOhh-oh-oh summer wine

He gives up his former life. His future is not sad, but assured of being of loving service to her. What man would not succumb to her charms?

The U-tube link above is close to the quality of the original, which I have on a CD. If you are looking for a video, you will find it, but the singing and sounds are not as good as in the original recording. Sinatra and Hazelwood were both older when they tried to improve the original, which did not work.

You may want to listen to it more than once to really understand it.

Patriarchy or Matriarchy? Either Way Someone Gets Screwed

When people do what they are convinced is good for everybody (read that as being self righteous, self centered, stupid, destructive, etc.) there are others who (1) will not go along with the movement because it is not their theory, (2) will be hurt as a result of the movement’s fallout, or (3) will support it but will be punished by backlash. See a number of religions, suffrage, civil rights, feminism and lately immigrants’ rights. I am not saying that any of these are necessarily wrong. What I am saying is that the promoters are initially well intentioned, even if ill-informed. Then the movement becomes corrupted by the over-zealous. If it is not already one, they tend to turn it into a concept similar to religion: only the righteous support it, others are against it, therefore, they are the enemy. The zealous promoters overlook the original intent and steer the movement toward their own goals at the expense of the original recipients. Ultimately they will anger even those who were for the idea at the beginning. Meanwhile the believers who are still true to the concept need to go underground to avoid reprisal from both sides.

I am skipping over the Eastern and Moslem views of male-female roles in order to simplify an already complex point. In “gender specific roles” as defined mostly in a Western patriarchal society, females have been expected to cook, clean, raise children, shut up before the “provider” of the household. Males have been expected to be stoic in face of adversity, bring home the carcass after the hunt, and keep the neighbor tribe’s members from copulating with his women. The children take whatever is available.

In the last thirty or so years the feminist movement has done some good. It also has done some damage that will take some decades to repair. What we see today is the gender confusion of most males (see metrosexual male, for example), and the disappointment of many females. Neither gender is sure of what is expected of them, so they mill about without true purpose. I find this worse than the original gender specific roles. At least back then every body knew what was expected of them, and could take a course in life to support it or to fight it. Now it is impossible to take a position without angering people on all sides of the issue.

What is not covered by patriarchal or feminist rules is to allow people to do what comes natural to them. It is not necessary to promote patriarchy or matriarchy for all. It could be that a child does not know his or her preferences, and needs to just go with the flow or general education until some sign of purpose is achieved. Surely you can groom a child or young adult to be able to satisfy your beliefs, but your beliefs don’t necessarily work for them on the long run. Some women and men are destined to be leaders. Others are destined to be followers. You can try to change that, but you would be messing with people’s lives against their nature.

Some people will never figure out what they want, and I don’t want to talk about that now. What I find intriguing is the total reversal of patriarchy by some promoters. You could take any patriarchal rule, custom, expectation, behavior, etc., and switch genders. What you get is female supremacy. The potential for a bad outcome is about the same.

There may still be a good fallout from this reversal of roles. It has shown that women can do things that were assumed to be strictly men’s jobs, and that there are things that you cannot or should not do if you are the wrong gender. If we can sort out all of this, we will have improved our society.

Feminization and Sissyfication

I read about certain aspects of D/S and keep running into the terms, “feminization” and “sissyfication”, usually with respect to a female doing it to a male to satisfy a male’s fantasy. The two terms don’t convey the same idea. Feminization is a straightforward tendency for a male to appear or to cultivate feminine characteristics. Whether it is forced, desired, or done in role-playing, it tends to emphasize the coveted attributes of a female. Sissyfication is a little more convoluted. It is trying to do the same, but nobody is kidding anybody about the outcome. The subject is not trying to be, even if forced, to be feminine. Rather, he is emulating the timid, subservient, soft, lack of force characteristics that were expected of the female in a patriarchal society.

I am not castigating anyone who is into this sort of play or life style. I think that it can be fun, it can work for people who buy into it, and it is generally harmless. It’s great when a couple can make it part of their everyday life, or even occasional D/S or role-playing. My only objection is the assumptions implied by the term, “sissyfication”. If one is into FLR, then by definition, the female partner is not a “sissy”. Yet this word, as defined by Merriam-Webster, is “an effeminate man or boy; also : a timid or cowardly person”. It seems almost a double-negative in this context. A supreme woman cannot be a timid or cowardly person, but a man, if one tries hard enough, can be turned into a sissy, which was an effeminate attribute in the first place. So the man is being turned into a woman who is not being herself, rather, she is being a wimp. Only, the man is doing that, not the woman. Or if the woman is doing it, she is doing it to the man. Is anybody following this reasoning?

Then there is the submissive male who is a “wife” to his dominant female. We need some new terminology here. The problem is that the old meaning of some words don’t suffice. A wife, according to Merriam-Webster, is the female partner in marriage. It does not really say anything about being dominant or submissive, unless one is fixated on a patriarchal or matriarchal view. So, “being a wife to a wife” is confusing in either context. Even more, it is derogatory in this sense, because “being just a wife” is demeaning to a woman regardless of her position. Oh my! Where do we go from here?

If you dig deep enough, you come out on the other side.

Some Other Feminine Words that We Dislike

Many of us know derogatory words when referring to females or certain parts of females. It is interesting that in FLR blogs, one very seldom sees these words. For example, I have never seen the words, cunt or whore, pardon the demonstrational usage. Although they are used in other segments of society, especially in pornography, they are considered impolite and irreverent in this context. On the other hand, I have seen, and even used, the word, bitch. It is less crude, and can be very appropriate, but again, it is seldom used. Other than these, I would be hard pressed to find any derogatory word toward a female. In role-playing anything agreed upon goes. In real life it should be different. Here is where valid education comes in. We in the FLR movement have been educated in the proper way to talk to, talk with, and to address women. Sometimes in play we will use these words with our women, and that is OK, as in, “You may call me a son of a bitch (implying that I am an illegitimate son of a woman of loose morals), but better smile while you are saying it.” At other times it is not proper.

Is Being Polite The Same As Being Submissive?

Why should our education in FLR be different in this respect from our peers’ education or those of our children? Sometimes one will say a crude word for shock value, in anger, in deliberate insult, or to provoke anger in others. Even then an educated and reasonable person can accomplish the same without being crude. It is not necessary to be crude in order to be dominant. Neither is it necessary to be submissive to be polite. FLR takes a cross section of society. There are all kinds of social, economic, religious and ethnic background among us. Yet we come together on these without being forced. Is not that amazing?

Do you ever lose your temper and utter derogatory words? Do you later feel embarrassed and wish that you had not said them? Do you employ impolite or even rude behavior when dealing with people assumed beneath your status?

This approaches an issue I related in an earlier post Screaming Dominance. In it I referred to the action of a so-called Domina in a stylized relationship. She does not have a good handle on the situation, so she resorts to screaming, name calling, repeated vulgarity. Yes, I know, this is not real life. Yet, I can easily visualize a dominant woman with self-control and assurance getting the job done without these unattractive modes of behavior.

I have learned a few things since I dipped my toes into the waters of FLR. I don’t lose my temper. I am polite. I don’t demand things to be done for me. This attitude has carried over to my dealing with other people under varied circumstances. If you observed my behavior, you would see that I am neither a “bully” nor a “sissy”. I can get the job done most of the time by using what I have learned in FLR. If I had to describe this behavior, I would call it “being self-confident and politely assertive”. Of course, this may not be proper when I am under the direct physical control of a trusted female. Then I would follow her rules.

Higher Standard

There is a current news story of a high-ranking sheriff’s officer who lied about using drugs. What did happen was that in his college years he used cocaine once. Many years later as part of applying for a job and certification for law enforcement he did not disclose this itty-bitty error in judgment. He got the job, and all was well. Recently he applied for another job in law enforcement. He was required to undergo a lie detector test. It turned out that he was then confronted with having lied before about drug usage. Now he faces dismissal because of the lie, not because of the one time drug usage.

People commenting on this news article sound off all over the spectrum. Many are vitriolic because of their hatred of the police. These same people don’t seem to care of right or wrong, the purpose of the situation, or the law that is to be applied in general, rather than in exceptional cases.

The fact is that people in law enforcement are, and should be held to a high standard. It is not because they are exceptional, even though they are, but it is because the rest of us tend to maintain a low standard that excuses wrong behavior. It should not be that way, but it is. That is why we need people of high standards in law enforcement. We break the law, they enforce it.

The whole thing is a moral dilemma. If this man had been honest about his momentary lapse of judgment in his younger days, he would not have been hired to a job that he had done well for many years. Yet, by lying about anything puts him in a category of an unreliable witness in the court of law, which he must, on occasion, attend as part of his duties. Do we want to dismiss an otherwise worthy dedicated, and useful person because he did one thing of questionable nature? Who are we to judge in this case?

I participated in passing around one joint of marijuana while I was in college. Once! Years later I faced the lie detector test, just as this person, before given a position in law enforcement. I struggled with the problem. After all, it was a trivial usage of one drug, and it was a long time ago. I decided to tell the truth regardless of the potential consequences. The day before my scheduled lie detector test the policy that required testing was changed, so I did not have to take the test that time. I got the job. Knowing myself I can attest that I am no better or worse for having smoked part of that one joint decades ago. I had not done it again, neither was I tempted to do so. But it is totally irrelevant to my decisions on enforcing the law later. Yet, some college-educated know-nothing policy-making bureaucrat would have prevented me from applying myself to do some good years later.

I am used to being held to a higher standard than even our illustrious leaders in Congress and the Presidency are. I very much resent these people getting away with lying and unethical behavior. I also resent their expectation of respect due to their position. I duly respect their office, but not always the person. On the other side, I have complete respect for law enforcement and military officers. These people are not elected. They don't have to compromise their principles in order to serve us. They have worked, and continue to work hard to earn their position. In most instances, we trust them with our lives. Whereas, I would not trust a congressman with my lunch.

Loop Was Cut

I wrote this back in 2008, but did not publish it. Given the previous post I thought it was appropriate to publish it now.

MW and I have talked of piercing for many years. Several years ago we took a vacation during which we had a wonderful time. The place, the company, the experience were perfect. In that setting we planned to include some piercing, the kind that most so-called professionals say, “Don’t try this at home.”

The evening came when I was finished with all chores, and was at her service. We were rather new at this, so she tied my hands together to keep me out of her way. Applying blindfolds to me was the final step before she set up the tools.

I was on my back. She cleansed my tip with alcohol, and proceeded to pierce. I felt a prick then it was over. I felt some more manipulation, but it was not piercing. After that she removed my blindfold and bindings, and told me to go to sleep in the other room. I am uncut, so you have to put this in context. There was not much blood, since the tissue pierced was thin. I was expecting a piercing of the rim of my cock. Instead, she pierced the thin membrane that connect the tip to the underside sometimes called the “frenum”. I was disappointed, yet at the same time thrilled to see the silver ring through my anatomy. You can’t really see the piercing in this picture, for the view would have to be from the side, rather than from the bottom. Still, it shows the yet intact frenum between the tip and the shaft.

Over some years of use the original pierced hole enlarged to the point where I could have pushed a pencil through it. The hole was not visible unless one pulled the surrounding parts just to see it. It did not get in the way. We lived with it.

For some years we have grown used to my wearing some kind of ring around my cock just behind the tip. It was really a wedding ring, only not placed on the ring finger of my right hand. In a way it was more appropriate, and we both felt that. In all other respect my uncut cock looked and functioned normal. But with the ring in place the tissue facing the ring began to thin. I could tell that it was just a matter of time before the membrane became so thin as to part.

The tissue did part. It happened without fanfare, without blood, without pain. One morning I looked at my cock, and realized that the ring was no longer containing the thin membrane. The membrane became cut, separating the tip from the shaft along the frenum. Now I have a cock that is sort of between “uncut” and “circumcised”. The rim in the foreground shows a cleft. It is a result of a former piercing of the rim in which the wire ring migrated to the edge, thereby exiting the piercing altogether.

MW should know all about my cock, since she has handled it much, including two piercings by her, and one observed piercing (PA) by me. I don’t know whether she was aware of the hole in the membrane enlarging over the years. I don’t know whether she knew that the “wedding ring” was instrumental in reducing the connection to zero. At this point I don’t know whether she is aware of the tip having been cut free of the rest. She will probably be very angry to find out. Maybe she will never find out. The loop holding the tip to the shaft became cut during the night of September 28, 2008. Now there is a small flap of skin left at the tip, and at the frenum. It looks different, but otherwise is not a problem.

A Piercing Thought

Back on the farm, we had pigs. Pigs have a habit of digging under fences by using their snouts that have evolved for that task. To minimize the damage that they can do, we pierced the rim of their snout and installed metal rings in it. The result was that the pig decided not to push the issue, and refrained from further digging. Barbaric, isn’t it?

You need to see the actual rim of the pig’s snout before you can make the connection to my current theme. The rim of my cock has had one piercing in the past. The gold wire we used was fascinating, but it worked its way out to the point where I had to remove it before losing it (MW is wearing the ring in her ear now). The reason was that the hole was too close to the edge, and the wire ring migrated to the edge.

There are piercings on other body parts, although not mine, with one exception: my left earlobe is pierced. I wear an ornament that is changed from time to time. At the moment it is a silver ring. In the past it was a gold ring, or a diamond stud. It needs to be changed or removed occasionally to accommodate a job’s personnel requirements, or appearance in court of our peers.

Aside from that, private piercings are an issue with me that is open and welcome. The only time it may be a deterrent is if or when I end up in jail pending arraignment. It has not happened yet, but it is something that I don’t relish. I have delivered many losers to jail and seen them having to declare and remove jewelry as part of entry into incarceration. Then there is the actual dealing with inmates once inside, which I have seen but not yet experienced. Let’s not get there in this venue.

My currently successful piercing is the Prince Albert. It is a source of fascination for me, and a possible source of irritation for MW. Hardware can be abrasive even when it is smooth, unless there is sufficient lubrication. Since she controls my occasion of penetration by my fully functional part, she also has the option to have me remove the hardware before doing so.

This piercing is useful in other respects. I wear a captive bead ring, but it can be easily replaced with a padlock. In either case, the ring or padlock can be locked or clipped to a chain, which in turn is attached to some other device. The most common device is the CB3000. At the moment we are not in a financial position to spend on acquiring a later model. The reason for the connection is to assure that I don’t accidentally drop the device out of my pants’ leg in case I go limp, or if the plastic fails. Besides, the chain with the connection is an extra kick.

A similar safety mechanism can be provided by using a frenum piercing. I had one, but it became unreliable, because the hole enlarged and could not be trusted to contain the locking device before failing. Those of you who are uncut may have a better chance of using this for its intended purpose.

Getting back to the rim, I am still looking forward to having it pierced in one to three places. Once pierced, a ring of some metal or plastic must be kept in the hole permanently to prevent the body’s tendency to close it. I will love to go with welded gold rings. Once in place, they can be joined with a large ring or padlock that would become a sort of chastity device. Not that I need one to keep me chaste, it’s just that I need one to keep me horny. With the proposed ring/lock combination there would be no possibility of penetrating sex, for the other person would violently object. I suppose that masturbation would still be possible unless enhancements were added. I will address that in a later post.