Mating in Captivity

Some animals breed successfully in captivity, some don’t. This animal hasn’t in quite some time. At the beginning of the lockdown and social distancing, the novelty of spending time with Tripp led to a sense of almost reckless sexual abandon. All the things we had wanted to do, we suddenly had time and space to do. It was probably the most passionate, sexy, kink fueled orgy of togetherness we experienced since we first started dating. But as the days turned into weeks, and then months, and the situation went from concerning to worrisome to dire, the stress levels just rose and rose and my libido completely disappeared.

Social media, a haven of connectedness in the beginning, became a solemn reminder of how abnormal things were. I went from checking several times a day to not wanting to look at all, like it was a constant reminder of what used to be. It all began fraying my nerves even more, taunting me as if things would be normal soon.

More stress piled on as I’m an essential worker and Tripp is definitely at a very high risk should he get sick. Just going out and coming home again was a massive stress. I have my car stocked with wipes and sanitizer that I use every time I head home. Then, one of our friends got sick and died. That hit me like a freight train. That’s when the shit got real, as they say.

On top of all that, the utter ineptitude of this nations response to the virus makes it virtually certain that another wave is going to hit and the economic, social, and even physical pain we all went through the past three months will have been for nothing. I have some knowledge of epidemiology, so I’m not talking out of my ass here. So I am stressed, to put it mildly.

The bodies response to stress is to produce cortisol. Trauma and crisis sap your resources. We go into flight, fight, or freeze mode. Cortisol makes us feel withdrawn, makes it hard to relax, and definitely makes it hard, if not impossible, to feel intimate. Our bodies will pull resources from anything that is not essential. The prolonged nature of this crisis is exhausting, and I am definitely feeling withdrawn. I spend much of my time alone, reading, or playing games. I’m having trouble wanting to be in the same physical space as another human being. I’m feeling depression and anxiety. I’m also furiously consuming newspapers and medical journal articles. I can’t watch television news, but written news seems somehow comforting, or at least not as frightening. I’m probably reading six newspapers a day and I am definitely getting my money’s worth from my PubMed subscription. And I am in a far better off situation than many. I can’t imagine how difficult the lives of the newly unemployed or underemployed must be. We’re luckier than most, but it still gnaws at me constantly.

So, our sex life is nil. Our social life is nil. Tripp feels it more acutely, as he is extremely extroverted. I’m okay with not seeing friends in person. That doesn’t stress me much, but the reason sure does. We’re doing okay, all things considered. I’ve even reached level 24 in Wizards Unite in just a couple of days. I’d already maxed out the Pokémon game. Also, since cortisol suppresses your appetite, I’ve lost 12 pounds, even though I haven’t been to the gym since March and I have not been particularly rigorous in maintaining a workout regimen at home. I need to be better about that. Physical activity lowers cortisol levels (so does Xanax, FYI). I need to get into some sort of normal routine. Some days, I don’t want to get out of bed or get showered and dressed. I don’t have the strength sometimes, but I try to force myself most days, giving myself a “pass” to just be a slob every so often.

There are things we can all do to keep each other safe. We all must wear masks. This virus is highly contagious. If everyone wore a mask and washed their hands, the transmission rate would drop significantly. Sadly, the virus isn’t going away until we have a vaccine. We have to accept what must be done. Those who refuse to wear a mask or who crowd into public spaces are not just a danger to themselves, they are a danger to all of us. This thing will have a beginning, a middle, and an end. We’re still in the beginning, but taking steps to protect ourselves and others is one way we can get to a new normal, and get people’s lives back together. That’s what I need. I need everyone to step up and take responsibility. Once things are moving in the right direction, perhaps my stress will decrease enough that our sex life can return. I imagine that the night President Biden is inaugurated, we’ll at least make out.


Talk dirty to me

Tripp doesn’t talk much during sex, which is ironic because he talks a lot otherwise. He’s very extroverted and talks to everyone. He talks to strangers at the store or a restaurant (back when we could go to such places). He talks so much I have learned to listen (sort of) while doing other things. I generally hear the important bits. He walks in while I’m working or reading and just starts talking so I have to listen with one ear. He can strike up a conversation anywhere, at anytime, with anyone, except during sex. I really, really get off on dirty talk during sex. I want to be talked to. I want to be told what’s going to happen to me, I want to be told if I’m pleasing someone, I want to be told I’m a good boy, a pig, or a whore. I like verbal humiliation during sex. Call me a fucking faggot and watch my dick get hard.

Tripp knows that. He knows it because I talk during sex and because he has made me come just by talking to me during a scene. I get very graphic when I’m turned on. It’s the only time I don’t have a problem talking. But he doesn’t talk much and I don’t know how to change that or if I should. I’ve told him how much I like it, but he just stays quiet. I think that’s just where he goes. I think he gets inhibited or maybe that’s just where his mind goes. Sex is pretty much the only time I’m not inhibited.

When he was my bottom, he talked a bit more, particularly when I was fucking him. In fact, as I think about it, he only talked when I fucked him. I think that maybe he still has trouble seeing me as his sub. I worry he’s not entirely comfortable, and I don’t know how to make him feel better about his skill as a Dom. I want him to enjoy sex as much as I do and I want to know that he does. I feel like I would know he was into it if he were more verbal. He says he is when we talk at other times, but I still worry. He’s just hard to read sometimes.

All I can think to do is to continue to encourage him, to keep telling him how much I love and appreciate him, and how turned on I am by him. Maybe this is just the way he is and will always be and I’ll just learn to accept it. I just don’t know.


Sugar Express

So I did the sugar hair removal. In the end, it went really well, although my first attempt was less than successful. Overall, it was pretty easy and painless, but they aren’t kidding when they say use powder first. I didn’t the first time. I made sure I was dry down there with a blow dryer. I did my pubes first, and that went pretty well. Then I tried my balls, which must have gotten a bit sweaty because the sugar paste essentially melted when I tried it and I ended up with candy coated hairy balls. I also didn’t take off my cage for the first attempt, and that was also a mistake, because the sugar also just melted and stuck to it like cement. It dissolves in water though, so I just had to stand in the shower for a bit to clean off the icing. Too bad there was no one around to lick them clean (Tripp’s diabetic).

Anyway, for round two I removed the cage and powdered down everything with medicated Gold Bond, which gave my balls a nice tingly feeling (that’s just a bonus). This time, I’d say I got 99% of the hair removed. Some of the paste stuck to my leg hair, but again, it’s easy to shower off. You really have to develop a good technique for it to work. First you apply a thin layer and then “flick” it quickly the opposite direction. Wasn’t to difficult, but it took some practice.

So, overall it was a success. You can see the results for yourself. The best part was the paste cost $15 and will probably last for 8-10 more uses, so it’s pretty inexpensive. I’m pretty pleased with the results and while not a thorough as the professional wax, it’s pretty damn good.


Update: it doesn’t last as long as a waxing, maybe 3 weeks tops, but it’s easy enough to do. After this lockdown is done, I’ll have a ponytail, a hairy ass, and a pornstache, but my pubes will be smooth

Pronoun Trouble

Anyone else going a little stir crazy? My quarantined mind wanders off and contemplates strange things sometimes, and so I write them down. If I had a blog, I’d share them…oh wait, I do!!

At the risk of sounding like the old guy who yells at kids to get off his lawn, I don’t understand the choice of the pronouns They/Them to represent non-binary people. Why did they (the group) choose they (the pronoun)? It’s really confusing. I never know what they they (the group and the pronoun) are referring to.

I get why they (the group) need a different pronoun. I guess I should say I get why them did. If you’re not a He or a She, you need a different pronoun. If I had a vote, I’d have chosen something else, like Ze or Che, or something that didn’t already mean something else. If you ask me if Ze went to the store, I know you are referring to a differently gendered person. If you ask me if they went to the store, I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about. It’s even worse when reading. Every time the plural pronouns they or them show up where it should be a singular pronoun, it makes my head hurt. To be fair, people using less instead of fewer also drives me nuts, as in “less calories”. It’s fewer calories, dammit. I don’t care if everyone uses it incorrectly, grammar counts. Did them do this on purpose?

Back in the 70’s when women didn’t want to use an identifier based on marital status, they (women, not a differently gendered person) chose Miz (Ms.). It was a new word. You saw it, said it, or read it and you knew exactly what it meant. Perhaps when them chose they them intentionally wanted us to have to puzzle out who the they them chose was? Are you seeing the problem here?

I realize I don’t have a vote, and I’ll just have to get used to it, but honestly, I wish they (whomever chose it, not a differently gendered person, although it probably was a differently gendered person) had chosen something else. Seriously, grammar is hard enough and now they, er, them are making it way more complicated. I’m going to need a lot of aspirin.

p.s. Get off my lawn you damn kids


Of Collars and Cages

One of my Twitter followers pointed out that I’m not collared in my blog cover pic. “Aren’t you in a steel collar?” he asked. Yes, I usually am. I picked that photo because I liked it, and other than not having my collar on at that moment, I think it represents me well. I feel sexy and powerful in leather. Also, as Tripp decides what collar I wear, I was being put into a leather collar that day and I took the photo as I was getting ready.

So, I thought I’d share with you a couple of photos of me collared, one a photo taken that day with my leather collar on, the other in my normal steel collar. They’re not nicely staged, just (not very good) selfies.

Leather on Leather
Every day steel

I wear leather a lot nowadays. I’m a leatherman at heart and I try and wear it often. It’s one of the ways I’m dealing with years of shame about my kinks and reclaim it in a positive way. I want it to feel normal, so I try and make it my normal dress as often as possible. If you want to see me in my cage, you can see it here. Standard NSFW warning.

I know I’m not the buff-est, sexiest guy on the planet and these aren’t the best pics, but I don’t have many of myself. Eventually, I’ll get a better pic for the cover. I just hate having my picture taken unless I’m bound and gagged 😇.


You Could Swim in That

In the beginning, Tripp was impressed by how many times I could come in a day. It was not unusual for us to have sex two or three times per day, and my very reliable cock would rise to the occasion with startling rapidity. I could fuck him, get soft in his ass, then get hard again without pulling out and fuck him again. It’s my greatest talent.

Now that my penis is no longer free range and doesn’t get used particularly often (once in the last 1.5 years) and my orgasms are only monthly, Tripp has found some new things to be impressed by. The first is distance. When he makes me come hard, I can shoot quite far, even while caged. This isn’t actually a new phenomenon for me. When I get very aroused, my orgasms are rather forceful. I actually came so hard on a kneeling boy once that I knocked him over. I’ve been known to hit the headboard when jerking off in bed. One of Tripp’s games is now to get me really excited and see how far I can shoot. He seems disappointed on the days my come doesn’t make it very far. I can’t control it. It’s multifactorial, but it usually involves getting me very turned on before an orgasm. Also, since the majority of my orgasms are vibrator induced, it has to hit just right at just the right time to make me shoot for distance. It’s easier for me to achieve that manually and sadly, that’s just not an option anymore.

The other thing Tripp has taken an interest in is volume. When I was ejaculating multiple times a day, eventually the jizz volume would decrease substantially. When he denies me, obviously the volume increases. After a month, when he makes me come, it’s practically a flood. He’s genuinely impressed with the amount of come I can produce (and the number of towels it takes to clean me up). After my epic 235 day come free stint, he told me I could have filled a small pool. I love seeing his face when buckets are pouring out of me. He seems supremely satisfied.

Given how much he likes it, I’m hopeful that the denial periods will be extended. He’s probably not going to let me go another 200+ days, but I think he’ll hold out longer than a month. He’s going to collect it in a little Pyrex measuring cup to see how much I’m making for him. I’ll probably want to start charting it, because I’m a nerd and it’s SCIENCE! Since I am no longer allowed to ask him not to make me come, I figure I can ask him to go for a new volume record. It’s for science after all. 😇



I was stuck in an abusive relationship for a while. It took me a long time to recognize what it was and an even longer time to get out of it. I’m a pretty smart guy, but I was pretty dumb about that relationship.

I met Cuntface (that’s actually what I have called him for these many years) a few months after Jeremy died. I was in a new job, a new location, and very sad and lonely. At first, CF was kind to me, but that didn’t last long. In retrospect, I should have know this was not a good relationship right away, because he was a lousy kisser and he was lousy in bed (the few times I actually went to bed with him) and my instincts were telling me “no, no, no”, but on paper, Cuntface seemed like the type of guy I would go for. Little did I know what he really was like.

CF was not physically abusive, although he had a temper and a severe case of road rage. One time, when his computer froze, he threw it out a window. He also got so mad at another driver that he sped up, got in front of the other car, and slammed on his brakes (charming). No, CF was mentally abusive. He lived to put me down. He would criticize everything I did or felt. He did it to other people as well. He’s one of those assholes who tries to make himself feel better by making everyone else feel bad.

I dated CF for quite sometime, although I never loved him. He actually moved in with me and I’m am still, to this day, not sure how that happened. He just kind of never left one day. I didn’t want him to move in and he never asked. I put up with his constant abuse (because he said he loved me, although I doubt he knows the meaning of the word) for quite some time (years in fact). I think we had sex (very, very lousy sex) maybe three times in all the years we were “together”. Honestly, I didn’t want him to touch me. At least some part of my brain was functioning. He made me feel so bad about myself that I felt like no one would want me and that’s one reason I stayed with him. I also think after the trauma I went through with Jeremy’s death that I didn’t want to love someone again for a while and I didn’t want to go through a loss again.

CF was incredibly possessive and jealous. He didn’t want me to have any friends and he was suspicious of every place I went alone. One time he accused me of going to the Faultline in LA. He said he knew the bartender. I knew that was a lie because; a, I didn’t go to the Faultline, and b. The bartender wouldn’t have known me. I did, however, go to Mr S in LA (they had a store there for a while right next to the Faultline). I knew something was up. I took my car to the mechanic and he found a GPS tracker hidden underneath when he put it on the lift.

It took finding that tracker and the attacks on 9/11 to wake me up. I remember driving to work that morning and listening to the radio and wondering what was going on. Something was on fire in New York. As it became more obvious what was happening, I was stuck with a profound feeling of the impermanence of life and how much of mine I was wasting sticking with CF. I was finally ready for a real relationship again, and CF wasn’t it.

I got myself to a therapist to have someone to help me sort all my feelings and help me get over the fear of breaking up with him (I hate conflict, remember?). I knew I wanted out, but I didn’t know how to get out. I was afraid of him. My therapist was a lifeline and a lifesaver. With her help, I eventually told CF that we were through and I wanted him out. I handed him his little now smashed GPS unit and told him to pack up (in retrospect, I should have put it on his car or someone else’s for fun). I even gave him a down payment for a house of his own (don’t ask me why, but I didn’t want him homeless, such was the extent of my abuse syndrome that I actually felt guilty). CF tried all his tactics to make me change my mind, but thanks to the therapy, I saw them for what they were and wasn’t having any of it. She taught me to stick to my bottom line.

Even after all this, CF wouldn’t leave. He always had an excuse as to why, but basically he didn’t want to and wasn’t going to. It wasn’t until after I was already dating and started bringing guys home and having really good sex that CF finally got the message. That cunt had to actually see me move on before he realized I was serious. I also changed all the locks one day, so there was that. When he finally left, he took every vestage of what was left of him in my house. Every photo that he was in was gone and I really didn’t care. He even stole some of my stuff, but nothing valuable and honestly, I was happy to erase him from my life. It was like he never existed.

I understand completely why people stay in abusive relationships. I was in a bad place mentally when I met him and he kept me there to keep me dependent on him. I thank god every day that I finally got myself out of that situation. I wasted several years with CF, but I did come out of it wiser and with far more self awareness and self esteem. I was in a good place when I met Tripp, who is the polar opposite of Cuntface and is my soulmate. Even otherwise intelligent, successful people can end up in an abusive relationship, and once you’re in one, they are hard to get out of. Thank god I did. To anyone reading this in a similar situation; you deserve love, your deserve respect, you deserve happiness, and you owe it to yourself to get out.


Bi the Way…

I was at a pan-sexual leather bdsm event a few years ago with Sir. He was giving a class on cock and ball torture and I was his demonstration object. He went over a number of techniques and culminated the class by giving out leather laces for people to practice tying up balls (mostly mine). There was one man there with a stunningly gorgeous cock and set of nuts, as well as a great body and handsome face. He was there with his wife, sadly.

Later that night was the play party and Sir hadn’t locked me. Sir had me on a cross and was flogging me, but I had a hard time focusing because I had never played in a pan-sexual atmosphere before and the moans and squeals of the women were distracting to me. I was just not used to hearing them and it messed with my head. Sir took me off the cross and after a while, took me to a quieter corner, hooded me, and strapped me to an exam table. He put an electro-plug in me and an electrode around my cock and sent me to heaven. When he finished, he removed the hood and my very handsome gentleman from the class was watching me, and was clearly excited. He asked Sir if he could touch me and was given permission to run his hands over my body and play with my cock.

Sir told me to take a break as He wanted some play time with others, so I went to the refreshment area. Mr Gorgeous cock was there and we talked. He asked if I wanted to hook up with him and his wife. I explained that he would have to get Sir’s permission and that I really wasn’t into girls (I’m not). He got Sir’s permission and explained that his wife wouldn’t participate but wanted to watch, which was just fine by me. I’ve always liked an audience and they had both already played with my balls earlier in the day.

He took me to their room where introductions happened. They both complimented me on my performance in the class and told they were very turned on by it. We had a couple of drinks and I learned more about them. The wife put a thick leather collar on gorgeous and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Gorgeous and I sat together on the bed as he made his moves and started stroking my thigh and kissing me. The foreplay went on until Mrs G came back and suggested the two of us get undressed.

When I saw that stunning hard cock, I naturally had to have it in my mouth. I sucked Gorgeous for quite some time and mentioned how much I’d like it in my ass. Mrs G told us she wanted to see him fuck me, but she wanted to see me fuck him as well. I thought that was eminently fair.

He slipped that beautiful cock (it had to be 8 or 9 inches) into my very willing ass. After he pounded me, we swapped positions with him on his back at the end of the bed and me standing behind him. As I slipped my cock into his sweet hole, Mrs G came over and straddled his face. As I fucked him, he ate her out. Interestingly, her moans were not at all distracting. In fact, they were rather erotic. I enjoyed watching him please her as I was fucking him. Then Mrs, G turned him around and had him suck me while she pegged him. I have to say I was quite turned on by this and I came down his throat. I then sucked him off while she was finishing fucking him. We all collapsed on the bed in pleasant exhaustion.

I’ve had sex with a woman exactly once before this happened. While I didn’t have sex with Mrs G (and didn’t want to), I’ve not had sex in front of a woman since I was 16, and I have to admit I enjoyed myself. I’m not likely to have that chance again now that I am locked, but it was an experience I’ll always treasure.


Locked for Life

For most of my adult life, my dick (like most guys) was the center of my sexual universe. As a Top, I was very focused on my dick, using my dick, and having my dick pleased. I could be a very selfish top, which the boys I played with generally wanted. I tended to look for “no reciprocation” playmates. Sex was not over until I had come, and it generally was over when I did, until I was ready to come again. However, it’s not my dick anymore, it’s no longer the focus of my sexuality, and I have come to realize that is how it should be and how much better off I am this way.

As I approach 600 days in a cage with no plans on ever being any other way, I find it interesting to reflect on how different my life is as a caged male. Even though I’m rather attached to it, my dick doesn’t belong to me anymore. It is very securely encased, virtually completely, in titanium. I can’t even see my dick anymore (I refer to it as my dick out of habit and to avoid confusion). My dick is owned and what happens to it is not up to me, and honestly, that is how it is meant to be.

As a younger man, I will admit to doing a few things I regret based on thinking with my dick rather than my head. I’m sure I am not alone in this. When your hormones are raging and an opportunity to stick your dick into an available hole presents itself, it’s hard to refuse. I’ve woken up a few times wondering what the hell possessed me to do what I did the night before. Having your cock in a cage is a wonderful way of avoiding such mistakes, because even if you want to, there’s nothing you can do about it.

My dick belongs to Tripp and Sir. They alone control what happens to it and whether I get to come or not. It’s off limits to anyone else, myself included (my holes are another story: I’m being encouraged to share them more). I have no say in the matter, and it feels absolutely fucking wonderful. I know I will never be unlocked and I doubt my dick will ever get used much again. I’m glad I spent a lot of time fucking boys, because that part of my life is pretty much over. It’s actually quite a sensation of freedom (ironic, I know) to not have to worry about your dick anymore. I can admire men as much as I want, but I don’t need to spend time trying to get into their pants. If an opportunity like that presents itself, it’s not going to be based on anything I did and it will only happen with permission. I don’t think I would be a good fuck anymore anyway. I used to be able to pound an ass forever without coming. I get close now if my dick is touched when uncaged, even without an erection. I now have a hair trigger in that department. I don’t feel like my dick is useless even if it is unused. It is still a source of pleasurable frustration, teasing, and torture. I feel near constant arousal and denial, a steady burn of desire instead of massive highs and lows. The other upside is there is no refractory period. If I came while tied up, for example, I’d get very uncomfortable, very quickly. What turned me on moments before now was bothersome. That doesn’t happen anymore.

As I’ve traveled on this journey, I’ve gone from being caged for a few hours to a few days to a week or so to forever. I’ve gone from uncomfortable plastic cages to a bespoke titanium cage designed by my husband and brought to life by Steelwerks. As it’s his cage, I’ve had his initials engraved on it. I’ve discovered that denial is far more exciting than coming. That constant simmer of desire is delicious. I’ve come to appreciate the pleasure that can be derived from pleasing someone else. I’m learning to turn their orgasms into mine. I’ve learned how hungry my ass can be and how badly I want things in there. I’ve learned how much I like my submissive side, and that I can be both submissive sexually and Dominant in life, and that both sides can co-exist peacefully. I don’t have to define myself or be defined. I can just be.

I get asked a lot by curious guys if my cock has shrunk. The answer is I doubt it, but truthfully I’ve barely seen my fully erect cock since 2018, so I don’t know. I’m pretty sure it would bounce back to all it’s glory, but it’s probably not going to have that chance, so it doesn’t really matter because being caged is my default and my dick has been replaced by bigger, more reliable toys that can fuck and fuck with no worry about coming. My dick is no longer viewed as a sexual object, just a source of amusement.

I cannot imagine life uncaged anymore. I can’t sleep if it’s not there. I miss the ache of the base ring in the morning if I’m not locked. I miss the feeling of metal surrounding me. I do not feel whole without it. It is truly as much part of me as my dick was. I’ve known I wanted this for about 20 years. It is everything I dreamed of, and more.


The Pandemic Dominance

Tripp and I have been dancing around truly becoming a D/s couple with me as the s. We’ve been slowly heading there over the last year, but things have moved quickly the last few weeks, and I have little doubt that the fact we are in lock down has played a major role. If there’s any positive side of this pandemic, it seems to have brought out Tripp’s Dominant side far faster than anything I’ve done over the last year and a half. Maybe we are taking comfort in the traditional basis of our relationship, albeit in different roles. Bdsm has always been the foundation of our relationship, so perhaps it’s just natural that we would embrace it in these turbulent times.

I’m not sure exactly why this is happening. I’m not questioning it, I’m marveling at it, but it’s kind of interesting how quickly things have changed in just a few weeks of us being together with little else to do. Does normal everyday life really impede our sexuality to such a degree that it took a quarantine to set our new dynamic in motion? I’d like to think not, but all evidence points to the fact that is does.

After almost 2 years of me being locked, in just the past week I’ve become his boy and I’m now collared 24/7. I’ve wanted this for quite some time. The fact that I can’t see Sir may be responsible to some degree as I have no other outlet for submission. I guess it’s just that powerful in me and it needs an outlet somewhere. All that submissive energy I have has had nowhere else to go. Regardless, Tripp has been coming into his own without my pushing and prodding. I think I’ve also become far more comfortable in asking him for what I need and want. It seems he is far more comfortable in wanting it too, which is something that I’ve been unsure of for quite some time. Tripp is actually enjoying dominating me more than I have ever seen. In fact, I think he’s getting very turned on by it now.

We spent many years as a D/s couple with me as the D, and those habits are hard to break. When I first asked him if I was his boy, he said “yes, Sir” and then quickly corrected that to “boy”. I was too hot and bothered to giggle, but looking back, it’s funny and it also sums up our relationship pretty well. I’ve been Sir and I’ve wanted to be boy, and Tripp is used to me being Sir. Still, it was the first time in my life I’ve called him Sir, and it fit him. He has been very much a Sir the last few weeks. I don’t call just anyone Sir. You have to get in my head to such a degree that it is natural, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he did. He’s put me into bondage several times this week, something he has never done before, and he’s been getting more and more creative. He’s been browsing my collection of bondage gear with a new interest. He’s even told me he has plans for my ass and that I will find out about them when he feels like telling me (or just using me). He’s been far more aggressive with me sexually.

I don’t think I’ll ever be his boy 24/7 in life, but I am his boy in the kink department, and that is absolutely fine by me. However, I’ve given up guessing where we are going because he surprises me often now. Whatever the reason, bdsm has made a major comeback in our house lately. Right now, we don’t have to make time for it, and in fact it’s a refuge. I just hope it continues to progress and stays a major part of our lives when things return to a semblance of normality.