The First Fuck

In a previous post, I briefly mentioned the first time I got fucked. I got several comments about it, including from none other than @thumpermn about that part of the post in particular. Since we’ve all got nothing better to do at the moment, I thought I’d tell you about it.

I’d been going to the local gay bar for a few months. I was 19 at the time (the drinking age was 18 back then). I’d been having a very good time dancing, flirting, and kissing boys. All of us were in college and we all pretty much lived in the dorms or had roommates. My roommate was also gay, but we didn’t really acknowledge that fact at the time, so taking boys back to the dorm was kind of a no go for me. There weren’t a lot of out men at that time. This was also a fairly small town, so while kissing in the bar was fine, this was not the kind of place you could do more than that in.

Across the street from that bar was the town’s adult store, which had a tiny gay section. At that point in my life, I knew very little about gay sex, but I knew where to find out more about it: porn. Also, I had bought the “Joy of Gay Sex” a few months earlier. On my way home from the bar, I walked across the street to buy some porn, but the store had already closed (this was decades before the internet). As I walked to my car, I spotted a guy leaning against the wall in the alley outside the bar. He was blonde and cute and quite sexy. I walked passed him at first, but doubled back as I was pretty sure he was checking me out. As it turns out, he was. We talked a bit, shared a cigarette, and then (being horny young men) we started pawing each other.

He asked if we could go to “my place”, but I lived in the dorm and he lived with his parents. We walked down the alley to a darker corner and continued kissing and fondling each other. Our pants were soon down to our knees. He happened to have a very nice cock (large, but not porn-star sized). By this point in my life, I’d already kissed and sucked guys, so I knelt down and started sucking him. He returned the favor a little while later.

To that point, sucking cock was as far as I’d gone. I knew about fucking from books and porn magazines, but my hole was quite virginal. As we continued to make out, he started playing with my hole with his fingers. I must say, that really did get my motor running. I’d played with my hole enough to know I liked the way it felt. I’d fingered myself while jacking off, but I’d never put more than a finger or two in. I knew what anal was, but I had very little experience with it.

As we kissed, he played with my ass and gradually inserted his finger, then two fingers. As I responded quite nicely to that, he pushed me down on all fours and licked my hole. He played with my hole, fingering and kissing it. “I want you to fuck me”, I said. I was ready for this. I wanted to join the club, and I wanted him to do it right then and there in that alley.

He spit on my hole and on his dick and started pushing into me. I tensed. It hurt initially. I’d never had more than two fingers in there. I held my breath as he entered me. He told me to breath and relax. I hadn’t told him I’d never been fucked before, but I think he figured it out. He very gently slid his cock gradually deeper inside me and then very slowly began moving it in and out. As my hole became accustomed to his cock, I started pushing back on his cock. I was loving the feeling of being filled. I experienced a pleasure I had never had before. I wasn’t exactly sure how to bottom, but I seemed to be doing it decently as he was moaning and the intensity of his pounding me increased. He pushed me down so that my face was on the pavement and just fucked me until he blew inside me. I’d already jerked off while he was fucking me.

I pulled my pants back up and headed home shortly afterwards. The next day I noticed that the white pants I had been wearing (it was the early ‘80’s) had black stains on the knees. No matter how hard I scrubbed, the stains never really came out. I kept those pants for a while as a souvenir.

Getting fucked for the first time was surprisingly easy. It hurt at first, and it took me a few minutes to get used to feeling something larger than a couple of fingers, but it quickly felt good. As my hole relaxed, having a cock invading it felt so nice. I punched that last hole (pun intended) on my gay card. I’ve had a lot of practice over the years and I’ve had bigger cocks and bigger toys in there, but that first time was memorable. It wasn’t the longest or the best fuck. I don’t remember the guys name (I may not have even known it), but I will never forget him. I bought my first butt plug the very next week and fucking quickly became an important part of my repertoire, although not nearly to the extent it is now that I’m locked. I’m trying to remember the first time I fucked someone, but I’ve fucked so many people, I honestly can’t remember it. Oh well, my fucking days are over anyway.


Sexy Broken

Tripp is sexy to me. He’s like porn. He truly can light the world up with his smile. Everyday, I think I love him a little more (except perhaps when he doesn’t put his dishes in the dishwasher). If I could, I’d have sex with him all the time. I want him. I want him very badly, but he’s broken.

Tripp isn’t mentally broken, although he does have one peculiar habit of getting wound up over something he imagines might happen before it actually does. He turns a little sun shower into a category 5 hurricane (Also, he’s a bit of a hoarder). He is physically broken. His body doesn’t do what he wants and he hates it. His medicine cabinet looks like a CVS. It’s all related to his previous bought with cancer. Of course, if he hadn’t done all that surgery and chemo, he’d be dead, so being a bit physically broken isn’t a bad trade off.

When we were dating, the first NSFW pic Tripp ever sent me was of him in his chaps in a sling with a very large dildo in his ass. That man looks good in chaps. He won’t wear his any more because he thinks they make him look like a stuffed sausage. His weight went a little haywire with his diabetes, but I could not care less. I want to see him in his gear, belly and all. He’s just as sexy to me now as he was back then. He just doesn’t feel sexy anymore. I’m certain if all his physical issues hadn’t arisen, my hand would be spending a lot more time in his ass than it does now.

Whenever we talk about it, it seems to depress him. I want him to know I don’t care about it, but talking about it makes him sad. Yes, I miss old Tripp, but current Tripp is still porn to me. I know he wants to do things, but he just can’t. It’s more than sex. We can’t go swimming , diving or skiing together anymore. Every trip through a security checkpoint requires a pat down and a wanding. Every time we travel (guess we don’t have to worry about that for a while), there’s a whole regimen he has to go through with all his meds. I get depressed for him. I can’t imagine how awful it is for him. Still, as I remind him, not dead is good.

I got him a personal trainer and, until recently, he has been going to the gym regularly, which is helping. We’re doing home workouts at the moment. I feel getting him in the best shape he is capable of is going to be good for him physically and mentally. I don’t care how he looks, I just want him to feel better and feel better about himself.

I wouldn’t trade him for anything (also, his blue book value is negligible). My desire for him seems to depress him sometimes though. I think he desires what we used to have but can’t anymore. I have little doubt that if his physical condition hadn’t changed, he’d still be my boy/slave/fuck toy. The silver lining is that our circumstances have given me the opportunity to explore my submissive side with him, instead of with someone else and that I finally was able to realize my dream of being permanently caged.

So Tripp, I don’t care that I can’t fuck you. I don’t care that you get tired. I don’t care that we can’t do the things we used to. I don’t care that I annoy you with my desires. I care that you are beside me in bed and in life and we will find our way, together. Now please put your chaps on and fuck me.


The Proposal

I proposed to Tripp. Same sex marriage had just become legal in California (before it became illegal again because of Prop 8). We were on Kauai and we were walking somewhere. He was walking ahead of me and I patted him on his butt and said “wanna marry me?” He said “yup”. That was it. Very romantic, I know. That’s how we roll.

Before we set a date, Prop 8 passed and we couldn’t get married anymore. We were pissed, to put it mildly…fucking intolerant straights. We shelved our plans and went on as usual. Prop 8 was eventually overturned by the state Supreme Court. “Still wanna marry me?” I asked. “Yup”, he said again.

Windsor v. United States was heading to the Supreme Court and we didn’t want to miss out again. We bought our rings (Tiffany’s of course), and made an appointment at the Courthouse. My sister and one of our friends joined us and we tied the knot. That’s it. No muss, no fuss. I wanted Tripp to take my name, but he didn’t because he’s a southerner and a “the Third” (as in Beauregard Jackson Pickett Burnside, III. That’s why we call him Tripp. Bonus points if you get the reference). It was wonderful. I was finally married. I was finally just as good as straight people. I’d always felt somehow “less” because our love wasn’t recognized or valued.

When the Supreme Court upheld marriage equality, we celebrated and decided to celebrate our wedding with everyone. We had a huge party and we redid the ceremony, this time with all our friends and family in attendance. I had an ulterior motive. I’ve given so many wedding gifts over the years, it was nice to get some instead. Turn about is fair play.

We wrote our own vows this time. We did the standard ceremony at the courthouse and said our I do’s then, so I decided to have some fun. Tripp said something lovely which I don’t honestly remember. I, being a smart ass, wrote my vows in limerick. 5 stanzas of limericks. And this is how I wrapped it up, because we’re both nerds and we love Game of Thrones.

“So honey I love you I do, I promise to always be true. Because I adore ya, I stand here before ya, and swear to both old gods and new”

We’ve been legally married for 6 years now. I still will swear on the old gods and the new to love you, my darling Tripp.

-Your Doc❤️

Hands Free

Chastity has been slowly rewiring my brain in the most unexpected way. In the last few months, I’ve started to have orgasms without any penile stimulation. I guess when one pathway is closed, our very plastic brains find a new one. I haven’t had an orgasm without direct stimulation since my very first one as an adolescent, and I’ve had several in the last few months.

My first one was this past New Year’s, and while unexpected, it wasn’t totally surprising as I hadn’t had one in 235 days and I was being quite heavily used. I was very, very worked up when Tripp made me shoot by whispering something extremely sexy to me. He said words I’d longed to hear for quite some time. He told me I was his bitch and that did it for me. To be fair, I was being fisted by Sir when he said it, so I was primed.

A couple of months later, I came while Tripp was fucking me. I’ve never come from being fucked before. I loved it. I love being fucked, and having an orgasm just reinforced that love. Coming from being penetrated was amazing and just left me wanting my ass used all the more.

The most recent one happened after the new cage arrived. Tripp put it on me and while inspecting it he started fondling my balls. He was just gently playing with them and I shot. This wasn’t even hard core cbt. I was quite worked up by the new cage and his interest in it. It took very little for me to orgasm.

The common denominator seems to be me being very aroused followed by some erotic play. What’s a bit weird is how easy it was, too easy. I’ve always prided myself on my sexual stamina and now it seems I pop off at the drop of a hat. Of course, I’ve never had so few orgasms before either, so I suspect that is a major factor. But the other factor I am sure of is that my brain is developing new pleasure centers to take the place of my now unused cock. I have certainly noticed how much my ass aches to be filled now, and how sensitive my balls and nips have become. It’s almost like all those nerve endings have a new sensitivity to replace the loss of my cock.

I’m finding this whole experience fascinating. I’m liking that my brain has figured out new pathways. These other areas of my body have always been erogenous zones, but I’ve never had an orgasm from them before. I get hard, but I haven’t come, until now. I don’t want it to be too easy though. That seems to defeat the purpose. Granted. I don’t seem to be able to orgasm by myself, at least not yet, and I hope I never do, since putting an end to chronic masturbation was kind of the point of this whole exercise.

I’m rather excited by what’s been happening to my brain as my chaste life progresses. I’m sure there are going to be new surprises along the way. Stay tuned folks.


Tripp’s Titanium Cock

I’ve been locked in Tripp’s cage for almost two weeks now, which somehow now seems like a lifetime ago given the state of the world, but let’s put that aside for a bit. I’ve been a caged male for quite a while, but this has taken me to another level. The complete isolation of the new cage is amazing and intense and I fucking love it.

All of my previous cages had some exposure of my cock which allowed some stimulation. Never enough to come, but I could always feel something. This cage has eliminated that completely. I could always see some part of my cock. I liked seeing my cock peeking through its prison, the head bulging out the vent holes when hard, but now all I see is metal. My cock has been moved to solitary confinement. And when I reach down there (and I do all the time), all I feel is metal, even though I’m hard as a rock underneath.

It’s difficult to describe the locked bliss I have been feeling. My cock is there, and it’s not there. I can’t think of a better way to describe it. After all these years of feeling something, the absence of feeling is very noticeable. My cock can feel the hard metal it is imprisoned in, but nothing else. Even though my cock has been owned and denied for quite some time, this is a different and exquisite torture. I’m somehow divorced from my cock and the only visitation I will ever get will be at Sir’s or Tripp’s discretion, and I think it will be rare indeed. Just imagine how you feel when you’re hard, how easily and mindlessly you reach down and stroke or touch yourself, how much you desire doing it and how much your hard cock begs to be fondled. Mine does to, but it’s impossible now. It begs for some stimulation, but it’s thoroughly denied. I reach down and all I feel is cool, slick metal. It’s quite the mind fuck. Tripp even sucked my titanium cock the other day. I watched it go into his warm, inviting mouth. I was hard but could feel no pleasure in my cock. It was the ultimate denial experience. I wanted to feel it so badly and I was very hot and bothered seeing it, but my cock was left wonderfully disappointed.

As for the device itself, I can only reiterate how amazing the fit and quality are and how much the lightness is appreciated. As good as my previous @steelwerks cage is, this cage is just the finest chastity device I have ever owned. While my balls still swell when I get hard, they don’t at other times. I’m not sure why as the scrotal gap was actually reduced and the ring is the same size. It is one piece and the cage weighs less, so that’s likely the major reasons. Also, my cock isn’t quite so squashed in this cage. After talking quite a bit with Chris, he felt my cock needed more room, and he was right. Small cages are nice, but this one is exactly cock sized for me. Whatever the reason, it’s nice. Also, titanium is highly resistant to forming a bio-film (look it up, it’s what causes cage stank), so maintenance is actually easier even though access is quite limited.

I realize most people can’t afford such a luxury item, but you do only have one cock, so to me it’s worth it. Just pleasing Tripp and making him a part of the design process was worth it. Unless I win the lottery, this is probably the device I will spend the rest of my life locked in. I can’t think of a better way to be sentenced for life without parole.

Missing Sir

It’s been a little while since I’ve been able to see Sir, and it seems it will be a while yet until I can again. I miss feeling His power. I miss His scent. I miss His cock. I miss His come. But protecting Sir and my loved ones (and everyone else) is my number one priority, so I will continue to do what is asked of all of us, despite what that primal part of my brain wants.

We’ve been texting and FaceTiming, and He is giving me tasks and orders. I’m wearing what He wants. I’ve ridden a dildo in His virtual presence and beat my balls for Him at His order. As I write this, my clamped nips are burning. It’s a poor substitute for His touch, His beautiful cock penetrating me deeply and His seed being pumped into me, but needs must. I am longing to feel Him inside me, it’s an ache that can’t be sated.

When things are more normal, I plan on spending hours sucking him. I want Him to fill my mouth and throat with His come, and then fill my ass as well. I’ve never taken Him for granted, but I feel an acute need to demonstrate how badly His slave misses Him. I’ve got weeks of slave energy I need to dispel. If He thought He had a good slave before, He ain’t seen nothing yet. I want to curl up in His being and just exist in His space. It is amazing to me just how badly I miss Him, and how badly I need my time as His property. It keeps me grounded. Honestly, I want to be fucked again and again by Him until neither of us can walk properly. I don’t miss being fucked, I miss being fucked by Him.

All of us our missing loved ones. I’m far from alone. But I don’t think I ever fully appreciated what serving Him does for me until recently. I get lost in Him and his absence is acutely felt. Still, I will get through it and stay as connected to Him as possible. I can see His cock. I can watch Him jerk off and imagine His come is for me to swallow. I can try to keep Him happy and serve Him the best I can while keeping our distance. I can plow my ass for Him. Our connection is not fragile and won’t break, but nothing can take the place of being with Him.

So we keep on keeping on, as they say. The longing just reminds me of how much I actually love Him, not just what He does with me or to me, but Him. I love Tripp as well. I love Tripp more than anything, but there’s room in my heart for as much love as it can give. Soon enough, we’ll all be together again.


Cabin fever

So, our governor just announced a statewide stay at home order. I think, personally, this is wise as we likely have far more cases than are known, as there has been so little testing done. The only way we are going to get ahead of this virus is to do extreme measures. If at the end of the day, they seem like they were an overreaction, than they were effective. I can tell you what my friends in the ER and CCU are saying (they are freaking out) and what my friends in research are saying (they are making significant progress at rapid speed).

Besides what feels like the world as we know it coming to an end, and the true existential crisis for many people, life goes on. Went shopping today and the store shelves were fully stocked and the staff was taking cleaning seriously. Most people, except for one oblivious woman, were staying far apart. We disinfected and washed our hands thoroughly. There’s still traffic on the roadways (although very light by southern Ca standards).

Tripp, Sir, and I are all well, although I’m sad that I won’t be seeing Sir for a while. I work in an essential field so I must minimize my interactions with others. I have little desire to be sexually active anyway, and yet my cock seems to have other ideas. It’s hard constantly. It’s hard for hours each morning. Weird, huh?

I’m by nature an introvert, so staying home doesn’t bother me. Tripp, on the other hand, is going to be a problem. We’re expecting at least 3 weeks of the stay at home, and I know he will be climbing the walls. We’ve got some workouts downloaded, which I think is essential, and when it stops raining, we have a nice yard we can hang out in.

I’d like to say we’re going to have a lot of sex, but right now neither of us is particularly feeling that burn. Maybe that will change. I hope so.

I’m going to keep up the blog for now, unless things get really hairy, because writing helps me cope and I hope reading something besides the news and social media helps you.

All I can say is stay strong, reach out to your friends and loved ones, and wash your hands frequently. I truly wish each of you the best in these trying times. Things are going to get worse for a bit, but they will get better.


The Day it Got Real

At the beginning of my full time chastity journey, I always kept a key with me, just in case. I never used it, but having it in my pocket was reassuring. While I was locked, I knew I could unlock at anytime if I needed. Just knowing I could made it easier for me. It was a security blanket. In fact, Tripp insisted I keep the key with me. He didn’t want to worry about me being stuck in a problematic situation.

About a month into it, after a particularly intense edging session, I knew I didn’t want to be unlocked and I surrendered the keys to Tripp giving him complete control of my cock. In fact, I got the keys from the little box where I had kept them, fell to my knees, and begged him to take them forever. I was ready for it. I wanted it. It was a big step but one I knew was right for us. I knew it deep in my being.

That next day at work, I was both excited and nervous, as I knew no matter what, I was staying locked. I kept touching my cage through my pockets just to make sure it was actually there and I wasn’t dreaming. I remember texting Tripp that “shit just got real” and he texted back an evil grin emoji. I admit I had mixed emotions. One the one hand, this was a dream of many years that had come true. On the other hand, I was out on a limb with no safety net. It was a big deal for me. I was excited and worried. I kept thinking “I’m really locked now”. However, the month of prep work wearing my cage paid off and, in reality, it was little different from the day before when the key was in my possession. It was far more of a mind fuck than anything physical, and I suppose that is the point of being locked.

I had some rough days in my early cage. It caused some pinching and discomfort, but I chalked that up as something locked men just have to deal with. It was, at times, more distracting and uncomfortable than I would have liked. I know now that those issues are quite avoidable by having a cage that fits properly, but I hadn’t invested a great deal of time or money into it at that point. Still, I powered through it. I also slowly learned a number of tips and tricks that made my journey far easier.

I’ve never regretted giving up those keys. In fact, I no longer even think about them nor do I actually know where they are. I do wish I had moved up to a better cage sooner, but c’est la vie. It took almost a year to find an extremely comfortable cage. You need to learn where your issues are for your particular body and what style of cage works for you. It is definitely not one size fits all. I can’t recommend dropping big bucks on a cage in the beginning, but if you’re like me and are locked essentially permanently, then you are going to appreciate something that fits you properly. Those issues you may be having are not something you just have to accept, but it doesn’t come cheap.

If your just starting your chastity journey, I’d recommend waiting a while before you hand over your keys. I read a lot of stories of guys who get locked for the first time by some remote key holder and then have issues and complaints and what I think is likely a bad experience that will taint their pleasure in losing control of their cocks. I remember one Twitter interaction with a young man who had been locked by a key holder who then left for a week. He was in severe pain and was desperately looking for solutions. I advised he cut the damn cage off since the KH wouldn’t help him and to find a more responsible KH in the future. It takes time and patience. Don’t be in a rush to jump into the deep end. Learn to swim in the shallow end first. Give yourself time to get accustomed to your new reality and only then, make the leap. You’ll be rewarded with an amazing journey into a locked life.


A Straight Guy Walks Into a Gay Bar

Note: Things are a little crazy right now, but I’m going to continue posting stuff I hope brings you a smile. Stay safe and stay strong. We will get through it together.

My first time in a gay bar was as a straight man. Okay, I wasn’t straight. I was gay as the day is long, but I hadn’t come out yet, even to myself. Nobody knew I wasn’t straight. I was struggling with my homosexuality at that time (still do sometimes). I was hoping I wasn’t gay. I didn’t want to be gay.

I went to college in a smallish college town that had one gay bar. There were no gay bars where I grew up. It was also the only bar with a dance floor and really good music. People from my dorm (well, the girls and my roommate) liked to go there to dance and I went with them one evening. I think the girls felt safe there as they were unlikely to be harassed and while technically a gay bar, it was welcoming to all. Before college, I didn’t know any other gay people. In that bar, there were dozens and my brain overloaded. They looked like “normal” people, only better dressed. They came in all shapes and sizes, and I was attracted to several of the men there that night, and one in particular. Honestly, I had no clue about other homosexuals, only that I suspected I was one. That night confirmed my suspicions.

I walked past that bar every Friday night for a month. I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one who knew me was around. I made several attempts to enter, but always chickened out. I finally went in one night. I was nervous as fuck. I furtively looked around and went to the bar. I got a drink and snuck out to the back patio where I ran into…my roommate. Shit, shit, shit. We both made excuses for being there. We liked to dance, we liked the music, we had so much fun there. Neither of us was ready to admit we were gay to each other let alone anyone else we knew, so we easily accepted the excuses because neither of us were ready to be out. We kept up that lie for quite some time.

Eventually, I got comfortable going to that bar. It was a safe space to finally explore my homosexuality. I made some friends. I kissed boys. I got fucked for the first time in my life in the alley outside that bar. but every single time, I looked over my shoulder just to make sure no one I knew saw me.

The bar burned down after my junior year and they didn’t reopen it. My safe space was gone and I didn’t know where else to go. I had gay friends by then though and I had started to come out. I did that slowly. I only told a few people and swore them to secrecy. I didn’t come out fully until I was 25. It was a very different time back then. When I see young gay people embrace their sexuality, I’m so proud of them and I’m glad society had grown up enough for them to do it. I often wish I had. Oh, by the way, my roommate finally came out too.


Climbing the Walls

Being unlocked drove me crazy. A few weeks ago, Tripp and I were traveling on a very early flight and we were running late. He unlocked me when we got to the airport, but by the time we got through security we only had a short time to get to our gate. We ran through the terminal and boarded our flight with a few minutes to spare. Normally, I re-lock once we are through TSA, but we didn’t have time.

Once the fasten seat belt lights were turned off, I thought about locking back up. I didn’t because airplane bathrooms are disgusting in general and the screws are so tiny that I worried about dropping them on that gross floor if we hit any turbulence. Did I mention airplane bathrooms are gross? I cannot believe people go to them in their socks.

Once we arrived, I had a meeting to get to so we had little enough time to Uber to the hotel and then for me to go to my meetings, which took the entire rest of the day. When I got back, I was so exhausted that I passed out in the bed and was down for the count.

I woke up several times over the night because I was feeling so wrong for not having my cage put back on. I couldn’t sleep properly without the cage being there. It’s like a security blanket now. If I don’t feel metal around my cock, I feel naked. I didn’t even get a nocturnal or morning woody (I get them all the time when locked), because it felt so wrong being unlocked. I did not like it one bit.

I woke up for good around 6 am. Tripp was still sound asleep. He has my keys and he likes to put the cage on me (I also like him to do it), so I just waited. I very, very anxiously waited for him to wake up. Several hours later when he finally stirred, the first words I said to him were “please lock me”. I honestly couldn’t take being unlocked much longer. I had put the cock ring on already and handed him the cage. Of course, as he started to put my cage on, my dick decided it was time to get hard. He struggled a bit getting me all in there (he also decided to have some fun teasing my cock and even licked it a bit), but eventually the cage went on and I felt whole again.

I’ve spent the majority of my life unlocked, but have spent the last (almost) 2 years locked. The intensity of my desperation when unlocked was almost unnerving. It felt completely wrong for me. I felt serious anxiety without my cage securely attached to me. I felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore. It honestly surprised me.

I realize now that there is no going back. I am a locked man and I need to be locked. While I don’t mind if Tripp wants to unlock me should he wish to use my penis, I do not want to be unlocked for any other reason. If I have to be (and there are times when I have to be), I need it to be as short a time as possible. Chastity had changed my brain and body image. Without my cage, I’m no longer who I think I am. I used to be self conscious about my cage. I’d wrap a towel around my waist getting in and out of the shower and while getting dressed. Now, the opposite is the case.

I think in the future, I’m going to ask Tripp to just put me in my Evotion cage before we go to the airport so I do not have to spend time unlocked. My new Steelwerks cage should (allegedly) go through the metal detector just fine as it is all titanium, but I know the Evotion cage does. My Old Steelwerks has gone through the carry on X-ray more times than I can remember with no issues whatsoever (not even a bemused grin). If I get somehow pulled aside by TSA, then they are going to see a proud locked man in his cage. I’d rather give them a show than be free range. Tripp may have a different opinion, and I will defer to him as it’s really his cock, but the one thing I am sure of is that I cannot stand being unlocked anymore.