Month: September 2018 (Page 3)

bulge under jeans
That telltale bulge can be as threatening as a gun pointed at it’s target. It’s just a penis.

The indisputable talisman of the male gender is the erect penis. To those of us who produce erections, it can be the symbol of impending joy or hopeless frustration. It can be a favorite toy that others love to enjoy. It can also be an object as threatening as a gun. It always means something.

If I look at a full-length picture of myself, taken when my penis is erect, it appears to be a puny appendage poking away from my midsection at 45 degrees. The organ itself isn’t impressive at all. But some people attribute to it the power of a nuclear weapon.

Many women consider the erection a powerful sign of intention; welcome or unwelcome depending on the owner’s relationship with the individual woman. The hint of an erection under clothing can be enough to cause the man to be shunned. Many people of both sexes consider that telltale bulge as proof positive that the male wants sex with the person he is looking at.

Lion's erection If you have one, it looms very large. Though it may measure only six inches, it feels like a throbbing tower of sexual need. I like how mine looks.
Click to enlarge (Would that I could do that in real life)

There appears to be a consensus that erections are voluntary. When I get one, it’s because I want it. Wish for it and my limp penis turns rock hard.


Mine doesn’t work that way. It seems to have a mind of its own. It gets hard when it wants to. At times I really want that erection, but it stubbornly won’t come out.

People who work around naked penises, like massage therapists or estheticians, encounter uninvited erections. I asked a electrolysis operator how she feels about a penis popping up. I was concerned because at the time, she was zapping hairs on my balls. Her response was matter of fact, “I don’t care. I know it’s not meant for me.” Great attitude.

In a more intimate setting, an erection can be a little frightening. Many believe it is the signal that sex is expected. I think more correctly, sex is wanted, not so much expected. It can be politely ignored if there is no interest in letting it play.

My penis can be the focus of my world. An erection can feel glorious. It’s beautiful; at least to me. I suspect that male arousal is more focused than female. I want that erection to be stimulated until I ejaculate. Of course, I’ll settle for less, a lot less. Touching my engorged penis is a form of petting that can make me tremble.

I don’t expect to ejaculate every time I get hard. That would be way too much sex. I do like it to be appreciated. I think a lot of guys believe that a picture of their dicks makes an excellent sexual calling card. Unless welcome, that is offensive to most women.

The plumbing is the most obvious difference between the sexes. I’m pretty sure that women don’t think of their vaginas the way we males think about our penises. I suppose a good way to think about an erection is that it is a sexual smile. It’s letting the viewer know that its possessor is in a friendly mood and would probably welcome attention.

Apparently just the threat of Icy Hot was enough to rouse Mr. Weenie from his slumber. I think tonight I’ll use some rope or clothespins to get his attention even more. It’s always tricky when Lion is in one of his slumps. Do I let him work it out on his own or do I intercede? The whole exercise of enforced chastity and female led marriage with discipline is for Lion. If he’s not interested in play, why would I want to force him?

Of course, I’ll pounce when the opportunity presents itself. If he’s horny, it’s on! It may not be as “on” as he’d like it. He’d much rather have an orgasm every chance he gets, but that’s not quite how it works. I’ll edge him as much as he’d like – and sometimes more than he’d like – but he won’t necessarily get the brass ring.

And whether he’s ready for play or not, the rules are still in play. Last night he was almost punished. I came home with my arms full of groceries, kicked the front door closed, called the dog who then made all sorts of noise, got the dinner I’d bought all ready, and there was no sign of Lion. I even called the dog back into the kitchen when she’d gone into the bedroom. If Lion wasn’t coming to help me, I reasoned he should either be in the shower or dead. He was neither. His face was buried in a laptop.

I was annoyed. He said he didn’t hear me come in. Didn’t hear the door slam, didn’t hear the dog (it’s kind of impossible to miss her floor show when one of us comes home), didn’t hear me call her back to the kitchen. He apologized. I let it go. Why? I don’t know. I’m finding that things are bothering me more than usual. It’s partly work. We have new people who just don’t seem to be getting it. Then the people who have been here for a while start losing their ability to function too. It’s stressful, hence the sign on my desk.

So I didn’t punish Lion. He didn’t do anything on purpose. What can I do? If he says he didn’t hear me, he didn’t hear me. It’s not like I yelled for him. I just made enough noise to wake the dead. OK. Breathe.

Sex hasn’t been on my mind much lately. I’m not sure if there is a reason for this or if it’s just biological. We’ve both been snoozing more than usual. Much of the weekend was spent in bed either napping or watching TV. With both of us naked, you’d think other things would cross our minds. Mrs. Lion had written that we would go down to the dungeon and use the sling. That didn’t happen. She said she would do it if I wanted, but I didn’t really feel like it.

There’s nothing wrong with this beyond making my posts less exciting. Sooner or later one of us will be sufficiently motivated to start playing again. I suspect Mrs. Lion may take the lion by the uh, you know, and start something modest in the bedroom. She’s an expert in jump starting me. Essentially, it will hurt until I like it. That approach is tried and true.

It probably depends on her energy level. She’s been sleeping a little better lately and judging by this weekend, she’s paid back a lot of her sleep deficit. Typically,  she emerges from her evening shower with a tub of “Boy Butter” in one hand and a butt plug in the other. That’s my signal to roll over. An hour or two with the plug in place is followed by some manual attention in front. This technique doesn’t always work the first time, but after a few days of this, my motor is running smoothly again.

I wonder at the success she has with this process. Of all the BDSM activities we do, anal penetration is my least favorite. Intellectually, I believe that I should be able to accept pegging with a large dildo. So far, I haven’t. Bondage and spanking (the play variety) are my favorites. Apparently, my preferences don’t govern how my penis will react. If that were the case, anal penetration would stop my motor cold. It doesn’t.

The concept of “liking” a BDSM activity appears to have nothing to do with enjoying it. Most are painful, or at the least, uncomfortable. I don’t get off from pain. But I do get turned on by accepting it. I suppose that’s why it’s called kink. There are no straight lines in sight.

We didn’t play yesterday either. I started the laundry, went into the bedroom where Lion was watching TV and played a bit on my iPad. Lion snoozed off and on. He asked if I wanted the heat turned on downstairs so we could play and then went back to snoozing. I was tired and cold so I climbed under the covers too. A long while later, Lion said he turned the heater off since I was sleeping. I only took a nap because he’d been snoozing. He said he hadn’t been sleeping. I guess it was the dog doing a ventriloquism act using Lion as her dummy. She was very convincing!

After I made dinner, washed the dishes, finished the laundry and took a shower, Lion said he was available for snuggling whenever I was. When I moved over to snuggle and started to play with my weenie, he said he wasn’t horny and apologized. It’s not a big deal. Snuggling is nice without anything else.

Just before bed, Lion said we’d wasted the whole weekend. He didn’t get to have any fun. First, it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. I attempted to resuscitate the weenie a few times without success. Second, did he think my making breakfast, feeding the animals, doing the laundry, making dinner and cleaning up after it was fun for me? Third, weekends are usually for catching up on all sorts of things that don’t get done during the week. He can have fun tonight or tomorrow night or whenever Mr. Weenie wakes up.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe Mr. Weenie is reacting to fall by going into a modified hibernation. Weenie Van Winkle. I hope he doesn’t sleep for that long. Perhaps I can jump start him by bringing out the Icy Hot. The threat of a small dot of Icy Hot on the tip of his penis might be enough to arouse him. Maybe a stripe down the bottom of the shaft. Putting it on his balls wouldn’t be fair. It’s not their fault he isn’t responding.