Out with the old…

Okay, I give up.

Back in the beginning of August 2006, I bit the proverbial bullet and had a 3/32″ thick, 5/8″ long metal lightning rod implanted in the sensitive area of my. . .

Oh hell, you can’t have read this blog for a week without hearing about my piercing, right? So let’s just get on with it, shall we?

I removed it.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

I got it because we – Mrs. Edge and I – thought it would be a way to enhance the security of the CB3000 by figuring out some way to attach the device to the piercing. But along with that, we thought it might add some neat sensations for her (and for me) for those (all too rare) occasions when I was not wearing the cage.

Also, I have to admit, the entire idea of it was simply too cool to pass up. I mean, most of my friends don’t even have pierced ears.

Case in point: At a garden party last year, one of our friends was bemoaning the kinds of people who have tattoos and piercings in their eyebrows, lips, and places she “didn’t want to know about.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, “I never really think about that, as long as they seem to be decent people.”

She went on to talk about how crazy it was to pierce various body parts, after which she asked me “I mean, you don’t have a piercing, do you?”

“Sure I do,” I responded. She paused for a moment and backpedaled “Oh, an ear piercing isn’t so bad.”

I put my hand up to my ear and said, “Oh, I forgot about that. I guess I have two piercings!”

She waited about 3/4 of a second for the punch line, and then, hearing none, choked and dropped her drink on the walkway.

Plastic wine glass: $2. Glass of Cabernet: $4. Look on snobby guest’s face when they think about your penis: Priceless.

Yes, there are certain types of parties to which I get get invited, I suspect, only to give the other guests something to talk about.

Unfortunately, even for me the “coolness” factor can’t outweigh the “getting laid” factor, not for very long. After almost 15 months, the barbell still made certain positions uncomfortable for one or both of us, even after I switched to a smaller one. Worse, often trying something new or different would pull or pinch the piercing enough so that it would need some healing time, and unfortunately it’s just not in a spot where healing can be facilitated by, say, cool, dry air during the day. And no, wearing a kilt to work would not foster confidence among the troops.

But we would have been willing to put up with the little inconvenience if the piercing would have worked as an anchor for the chastity device. Unfortunately, even that didn’t work out very well, either – except in the sense that it kept me from having sex because of several infections caused by the inability to clean the piercing properly.

The problem seems to be this: we tend to think of a penis as being, more or less, a sausage. And for all practical purposes, it is; it’s a bunch of meat stuffed into some skin. However, there is a difference that I hadn’t taken into consideration; I am, in the local parlance, a “grower” instead of a “shower” (that’s pronounced with a long “o”. To rhyme with “grower, of course. I’m just saying). That is, when I’m soft and wearing the cage, I’ve got all sorts of bits that are squished into unnatural positions, and the loose bits of flesh get folded over and create nooks and niches and the like. The upshot is that it was difficult to reach the bits specifically around the piercing that needed to be cleaned thoroughly (the other bits were generally fine with a good spray from the shower).

I had hoped that by switching to the captive segment ring it would obviate the need to clean the area between the 1/4″ balls and the frenum, but unfortunately the ring developed other problems for me. The final straw came the other day when, after less than two days in the cage, I developed a sore spot from the ring at the edge of the pierced hole. After voicing my frustration to Mrs. Edge, we realized we needed to make a decision. She told me that since the piercing never really panned out in terms of enhancing her pleasure, and since it prevented me from wearing the device for any length of time, that she would be fine with me just removing it. We asked ourselves “Which thing gives more pleasure or enjoyment: the piercing or being able to use the chastity device?” Anyone who reads this know which way Mrs. Edge voted, and unfortunately, I had to agree with her.

Damn.

It took about 20 minutes to remove it, mainly because I was so afraid of slipping with the jeweler’s pliers and piercing myself in another area. So now my jewelry box contains several tie pins, some spare brass buttons, some cufflinks and shirt studs, and three reminders of the year that tested my mettle.

Oh, go ahead and groan – who wouldn’t have used a bad pun like that if they had the chance, I ask you?

Anyway, the hole took almost no time to close up, and it should be healed very soon. I was reminded that several people suggested that a Prince Albert style piercing might be better, but nobody could explain why. Hopefully this will help anyone who happens to do a Google search on, say “chastity piercings.” And who knows, perhaps next year I might be brave enough to try a PA of my own; maybe for my 50th birthday?

That would be just in time for the next round of garden parties, too.

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If you found this interesting, you might also be interested in some of my other real-life experiences which are listed in the True Tales page.