Nipple Rings and Reactions

I would imagine that anyone reading this blog has heard about the US Transportation Authority’s nipple fiasco at the Lubbock, TX airport several weeks ago, but for those who may have missed it, here’s the 411: A woman in the Lubbock airport was wand-scanned after walking through the detector, and her nipple rings set off the alarm. She explained that removing the rings would be nearly impossible, and asked to have them checked by a female TSA officer (two were present at the time). The male officers denied her request, and asked that she go behind a partition to remove them with some pliers (no report on whether the pliers were confiscated from a previous passenger), or else she would be denied permission to board the aircraft. After some difficulty, Mandi Hamlin was able to extract the rings and managed to catch her flight.

If you’re reading this with your jaw agape in astonishment, you’re not alone. The story has been picked up by most of the major news outlets, initially as one of those odd or quirky tales, but has been growing into one of those stories that shows some of the more ridiculous antics by a quasi-government agency with an obvious lack of focus. If you have been following this story, you might be interested to learn that the TSA itself has a blog (really!) on which this incident has been addressed. Sort of.

The TSA blog has a rather odd title, and a lackluster subtitle: Evolution of SecurityTerrorists Evolve. Threats Evolve. Security Must Stay Ahead. You Play A Part.

Charming. Anyway, even more interesting than the blog article on this, are the approximately 300 comments, most of them anonymous, and most – although not all – opposed to the treatment that this woman received. Many of the opinions expressed the hope that she might sue the TSA, and that the officers involved would be fired (or suitably disciplined). Surprisingly, I did read several comments from people supporting the actions of the TSA officers, although they did not give any arguments to support their opinions, making it seem as if the TSA were “just following orders.” I think that it’s certainly worth a few minutes of reading time.

Soem of the more interesting comments:

“What if she had blasting caps in her bra? What if she was part of a covert test at the airport and they just took her word they were piercings? They would have failed another one of those tests you guys like to bash them for failing.”

“Let’s face it, women are mules and their undergarments a fortress for any item they feel they have a need to conceal. As far as humiliation, she wasn’t too humiliated when she got the piercings, why should she be humiliated to remove them “in private”.

“In this case, I would probably add layers of ignorance and prejudice. Texas being “the buckle of the Bible Belt,” the Lubbock TSOs perhaps asserted their personal beliefs that someone with a nipple piercing is “perverted” or “sinful” and therefore deserves to be publicly humiliated. “

“I suppose the TSA could offer passengers the choice of a male or female screener for their private inspection. But that could lead to its own problems. For example, what if a female screener were to complain that having to inspect a male’s genital piercing creates a hostile work environment and grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit? I can easily see that happening — in fact, I’ve known at least one female body piercer who will not do genital piercings on male clients.”

“If you are willing to wear piercings, then you should be willing to accept the consequences that come with it. With [Attorney] Gloria Allred by her side, it is obvious she is only seeking money.”

“If people insist on mutilating their bodies as an expression of their “alternative lifestyle” or to announce their individuality (“Look at me! I’m different – just like everyone else…) then they should be prepared for the fallout. You have piercings? You’re going to have to go through more in depth searches at the airport… thus, costing the rest of us time, too. So, thanks.”

The chastity groups have been tossing the story around for the last couple of weeks, mainly because of the number of men who have genital piercings and are now concerned about traveling. My own frenum piercing did not set off any detectors, and I’ve even placed the lock to my chastity device in my pocket, just to see what would happen. (Nothing). Although I find it difficult to imagine having a piercing big enough to set off an alarm, I’ve certainly seen them. I can’t even imagine trying to remove, say, a 0-gauge captive ball PA piercing with a pair of pliers.

Just like the people who have had to toss out baby formula for their infants, or the people on long flights who have their own food confiscated, the entire incident points up the growing ridiculousness of the current system.

Sex words

No, no, wait – that’s six words. Six.

One of the great things about being me is that I’m always stumbling over fantastic or quirky or exotic or intelligent bloggers. Lately, I’ve been keeping an eye on Elizavetta, who in an effort to shake me off, tagged me with a meme.

Damn. It’s been a while since we’ve done a meme around here, but this one looks easy.
Here’s how it works:

  1. Write your own six word memoir
  2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like
  3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post.
  4. Tag five more blogs with links
  5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

Six words? Hah! Anyone who knows me in real life will attest to this one:

“I’m late. Did I miss anything?”

I was going to post this yesterday, but, well, you know how it is.

Anyway, let’s tag a few people. How about…

Desire-XLove Tap, Lady Pandorah, Blacksilk, and The Switch.

Not the Usual Anniversary Present – 8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Week 31: Something changed for the both of us.

For the next few weeks after the night that she tied me down, her libido seemed to increase. After having gotten accustomed to the once a week oral or strap-on sessions, it was a pleasant surprise to have her after me three times a week. Even though she refused to let me out, I felt my own libido responding in kind as I took her with the strap-on or spent a half hour with her thighs wrapped around my head. I’m not sure what inspired her, but I decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

One night I mentioned casually, “I don’t get it. Usually when you’re in the mood, you’re willing to take the damn cage off of me.”

“Well, it’s only been a week or so, hasn’t it?” she replied lazily. While I attributed her lack of precision to the fact that her thighs were wrapped around my head, it didn’t bode well. Usually she’s good about keeping track of the days.

“No, it’s been five weeks now, and I’m really having a hard time.”

“Hmmm. Only a month and already you’re complaining? I should make you go for another month just for that.” Her fingers tightened on my hair and she pulled my face back between her legs. “In fact” she added as I resumed licking her wet mound, “I’m thinking that it’s time to take your training to the next level.”

I managed to lift my head a bit. “Training? What the hell are you talking about? This isn’t training, it’s denial! You expect me to be happy coming once a month?”

Her legs tightened around me, pulling me back into position. “Right now, I think that you’re going to be happy coming whenever I let you, be it once a month or once a year.”

“Once a year?” I exclaimed, “I can’t do that – that’s crazy!”

In answer, she held my head down with her hands and lifted her hips. I got the message. I resumed my slow licking and sucking, all the while listening to her talking – more to herself than to me – about my “going for some really long term training.” The more she talked to herself, the more aroused she became, until soon she was bucking and thrusting her hips so much that I could barely keep up.

Afterwards, she laid across my chest, relaxing. I was still aroused, of course, but not painfully so; somehow being able to give her so much pleasure enabled me to sublimate my own arousal.

“Umm, about this ‘training’ you mentioned…” I began, “It sounds very erotic and all that, but I barely get to come once a month as it is; besides, you’re always saying how much you prefer my cock to the dildo. It’s not going to be easy for you to do without, you know.”

I was hoping to talk some reason into her. She looked up at me.

“I’m sure it’s going to be hard for a while,” she smiled.

Week 34: I find that I’ve lost track of the time.

People talk about “lifestyle” this or that, without really having a conception of what it’s like to live 24/7 with something. Oh sure, they do it for a week, maybe a month, but for most of us, exploring some alternative sexuality is more of a vacation from real life, rather than becoming part of real life itself.

I don’t remember when it changed for me. At one point the idea of wearing the cage every day was exciting; even the frustration of being denied an orgasm for a week or two was arousing in a way. Eventually, though, the reality slammed home – I wasn’t ever going to have as much sex as I wanted; or rather, I was never going to have as many orgasms as I wanted. It took a while to work through the frustration of not being in control of my cock, to have to forgo the pleasures the joyful consummation of lovemaking. I developed a love-hate relationship with the steel cage that I built – I was proud of how well it contained me and how secure it was, but hated having to wear it.

When my wife began keeping me locked for longer and longer periods, I found myself so grateful for the times she released me that I didn’t mind going back in right. Eventually though, even that pleasure was mitigated by her decision that I should clean her with my mouth and tongue immediately afterward. When we discovered a good strap-on harness and dildo for me to wear, it was almost a mixed blessing – I was unlocked even less frequently, but at least I didn’t have to humiliate myself as often. And I realized, that’s what it was – humiliation; I was willing to promise anything for those ten seconds of glorious fireworks.

But at some point a few months ago I realized that I had gotten past even that, and became almost perversely proud of my ability to hold out without begging for relief. Once every month? I could handle that. But two months? Three? I tried to put the thoughts out of my mind. Fortunately, my wife really enjoys intercourse, and we both knew that the strap-on, although pleasant, just didn’t quite have the same feel. Maybe it was the angle, or the shape of the head, or how it was situated on my hips. Sooner or later, she was going to let me out. She had to, right?

Week 36: Silly me – I was supposed to be enjoying this.

A few weeks later I came home early and picked up the mail. There was a small package addressed to her from a company that I recognized as an adult products mail order house. I was curious, but couldn’t figure out a way to open the package without leaving a trace. I left it on her dresser. Later on, after she had come home, I saw that the package was gone, but she didn’t say anything about it. That night, I mentioned it when I was giving her a foot rub.

“Oh, it’s just a little something that I thought would be interesting for us,” she replied mysteriously. “You’ll find out on my next day off,” she said simply, and dropped the subject.

Her next day off was in two more days. Eagerly arising, I fixed her some coffee and toast and I hopped into the shower while she ate. I realized that she didn’t give me the key before I took my shower, but she sometimes likes to tease me by letting me think that she “forgot”. I slipped into the bed, and she was already waiting for me.

“Here, eat me,” she commanded, holding my head in her hands. I proceeded to lick her gently. “No, harder,” she said, “make me nice and wet.”

I thrust my tongue into her, drawing it up her clit in long, firm strokes. She came quickly, bucking her hips. “Oh, that was so nice. You don’t know how much I’ve come to appreciate your tongue these last few months.”

“It seems like you only appreciate my tongue,” I complained.

“Oh no,” she assured me, “I love your cock inside me, too. It’s just that it’s such a hassle to unlock you, let you out of your cage, and then lock you back up again.” She pushed me onto my back. “That’s why I have something for you,” she explained, “that is, for us“.

Reaching under her pillow, she brought out a realistic – a very realistic – looking dildo.

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, “that’s me!”

She nodded. “I told you that for our anniversary I wanted something different, remember? Did you figure out that I had made a cast of your cock last month? I had it made into an extension for you.”

“It’s a penis extension. You want me to put this on?” I asked, incredulously, “I won’t feel a thing!”

“It’s not just an extension,” she explained, “This is made from the best ‘cyberskin’ for a squishy, yet firm feel.”

Handing it to me, I saw that the front end was solid, but the other end was hollow. I squeezed it – the tip was amazingly lifelike. I saw the familiar veins and ridges – holding it almost felt like holding my own cock. No, it felt just like holding my own cock – just not attached to my body.

“It’s meant to fit over the end of your chastity cage,” she continued, “you’ll be able to wear this when I want some of your nice cock inside me.”

Looking it over again, I said, “If you like my cock so much, then why not just unlock me? Why do we need an extension? “

“Silly,” she replied, “of course you wouldn’t need one – normally.” She took the extension from my hands and leaned in close to my face. She gave me a deep kiss and whispered “But we don’t have a normal arrangement anymore, do we?”

She sat astride my legs and rolled the hollow part up like the end of a sock. Then she placed it over my cage and unrolled it. It fit perfectly, and the tight rubber held it firmly in place. I could see the outline of the steel cage at the base, but otherwise, it looked like I had a full erection – my own erection.

“Oh my,” she said as she stroked it, “it feels so lifelike. I’m sure it will feel as good as it looks, too.” Quickly she positioned herself over it and lowered her pussy onto the shaft. I could feel pressure, but no warmth, no friction.

“Hey,” I complained, moving my hips, “what the hell are you doing?”

She was already pressing her hips to mine in pleasure. “Ooh, honey, it feels just like yours. So nice and deep, too.” She continued to grind her hips onto mine. I reached up to her to fondle her breasts and waist, to hold her ass. I knew we were fucking, but I couldn’t feel it. This was worse than wearing a strap-on, worse than anything I could have imagined. The feeling was absolutely maddening, and I began to pump my hips frantically in order to feel something – anything.

“Oh, yeah, just like that,” she mumbled, oblivious to my own frustration, “I can feel the bumps from the cage inside me, it’s wonderful!” She leaned her head back and shuddered softly as she came. “Oh, that was nice. Much better than having you just stick some old dildo inside of me. I wish I had known about this months ago.”

She dismounted and lay down next to me, pulling me on top of her. Hoping that this was a temporary distraction, I carefully thrust into her. She was so wet that I, that is, my extension slid in effortlessly. Her legs immediate wrapped around my own, and I proceeded to pound into her, half in lust, half in frustration. Before long she was biting my shoulder and pushing her own hips hard into me. We fucked this way until I lost count of how many times she came. Finally she seemed to relax, so I pushed her onto her side so that I could enter her from behind. My wife just closed her eyes and gripped my hand as I plunged into her, filling her deeply. I still couldn’t feel anything but some slight rubbing and the pressure on the ring around my cage. I had hoped that in this position I could make my balls rub on her thigh enough to stimulate me, but after a few minutes it was obvious that there was no way that I could come with this extension on. My wife, however, had no problem coming, and did so a few more times before she asked to get on top again.

I started to complain, but she reminded me that the week before I had come without permission, so I had to accept my punishment. She seemed to get excited by telling me this, and she came quietly. She placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned forward to kiss me. I was a wreck, of course, but she placed a finger on my lips.

“That was wonderful. It felt so real, because it’s just like you,” she said contentedly, “and there’s no danger of you coming before I give you permission. Wouldn’t you say that that is a good thing?”

“Umm. . .”

“And it’s so easy to put on, just half a minute to get you ready, and we don’t have to bother with the straps and getting things in just the right position, like with the strap-on. That’s a big plus, isn’t it?”

I nodded, unsure of where this was going, but sure that they weren’t going well.

“And I kind of miss just being able to have a quickie, don’t you?”

Still unsure, I nodded again.

“I’m glad you feel that way, because I was thinking that lately I might not be too tired to have a nice fucking at night. I miss that, don’t you?” For emphasis, she ground her hips into me.

Again I nodded – this really was not sounding better.

I’ve wanted to have more sex at night,” she continued, “but the problem is that it’s such a hassle to unlock you at night. Then you’re too excited anyway, and you either try too hard to hold back and it breaks my rhythm, or worse, you come too fast, and that’s not fair to me – especially since when I punish you, I’m only punishing myself. Don’t you agree?” She squeezed my balls firmly.

“Umm, yes. . . er, no. . . er . . “This was looking bad again.

She silenced me with a kiss. “But now we can have sex whenever we want. With this nice extension, we could have a quickie, and there’s no unlocking, no cleaning up, you can fuck me for as long as I want, and I’ll never have to worry again about you getting overheated. And best of all,” she continued, “it’s just like you, so I’ll never miss having you inside me! Doesn’t that sound like a great idea?”

“A great idea for who?” I asked with my heart in my stomach.

“And to think that this is all because you wanted a little teasing for your birthday a few months ago. Thank you, darling, for a present that is giving me so much pleasure to give you.” She leaned down to kiss me again.

A few? It had been almost eight months! This was looking decidedly bad. “Um, you mean that we’ll use this to have a quickie, or sometimes at night, and on your days off we’ll still unlock me so I can get some action, right?” I nudged her again, “Right?”

She looked down at me, smiling.

“Silly,” was her only reply.


More of my ridiculous attempts at erotica can be found on my Stories page.

(S+C) x (B + F)/(T – V)

Edit: If you’d like to score your own bottom, but don’t want to figure out the tables, I’ve created an Excel spreadsheet that you can download: The Ass-timator
Let me know how you do.

From The Toronto (Canada) Sun:

In search of the perfect bottom

By THANE BURNETT

In the end, Dr. David Holmes has finally found it.

A mathematical equation so defining — so important to the past and future of humanity — it may rival whatever that whole E=MC-squared was all about.

He’s discovered a formula for the perfect bum. A way to quantify our greatest assets.

No more will any man stumble when asked by their wife if a pair of jeans make their butt seem big. Smart women need never to feel stupid after getting caught in the depth of a plumber’s crack.

Bootyliciousness is now simply logical.

Holmes — who spoke to me last night from his UK home — is a psychology lecturer at Manchester Metropolitan University. He developed his bum data — one for men and another for women — as part of his work on evolutionary signals and roadsigns. A good part cheeky stunt, the work, he stressed, actually uses firm science to explain how men and women become dazed under a perfect full moon.

“The litmus test is we most often pick a healthy bum; that’s what we find attractive,” he explained. “So in that way (historically), the bum was often used to find a healthy mate.”

Our backends make us unique among our primate brothers and sisters, he points out. Strutting on a catwalk, most other apes would lose their pants for a lack of significant derriere.

“We developed our rounded rears in order to survive on the African savannah terrain, by being able to run long distances, beating … rivals to scarce food,” he’s concluded. “Thus, part of human success has (come) down to our bums.”

The twin-peaks of a good bum are a signal for possible sex. The sight of female breasts are simply a substitute for bouncing buttocks, he’s sure.

“Firmness, pertness and the ability to defy gravity indicated a potential mate that was healthy, fertile and good at childbearing and caring,” he’s written in his theory.

Down through time, the perfect female butt has varied — oscillating between a “pear” and the more rounded offering.

And while cultures may quibble — Western society sides with small bums, while some African tribes give cat-calls to a large triangular affair — the basic math still largely works.

Continue reading

The Puerile Cuckoo

Okay, fasten your seat belts, because I feel a rant coming on.

The Edge of Vanilla gets a lot of hits from people searching on male chastity and orgasm denial. Those kinks overlap with others, among which are: BDSM, transvestism, tease & denial, female domination, D/s, and cuckolding.

Personally, I don’t understand the attraction of wanting to be considered useless and impotent as a lover, much less the desire to have your wife/partner seek out sex with other men while you wait for the details (or not). Swinging, I understand. Cuckolding? I don’t get it. One of Bitchy’s bestest posts ever covered that quite well:

you only have to look at the number of toppish women in this thread saying, hell, yeah, what’s in it for me, to see that cuckolding really isn’t about pleasuring your partner. Most women would rather have sex with their partners.”

But so what? I know that we’re all supposed to be understanding and accepting of each other’s kinks and fetishes and all that; and certainly I have some kinks that other people would consider to be odd. There’s no doubt in my mind that consenting adults should be free to do whatever they want.

But what is it that we call “consent”? Continue reading

Short sex is best say experts

I don’t quite know what to make of this news item from Australia. Maybe our friends from Down Under can weigh in?
From an article in The Herald Sun (Aus)

Short sex is best say experts

March 05, 2008 12:07pm

THE best sex should last just seven to 13 minutes, and even three-minute sex is “adequate”, sex experts say.

But Australian sex therapists commenting on the new research say most men Down Under wanted it to last considerably longer while most women were “not bothered” if it was over with fast.

The sex study is the first to review what the experts believe is the ideal length of time to have penetrative sex, with the random sample of Americans and Canadians labelling seven to 13 minutes most “desirable”.

Intercourse lasting between three and seven minutes was deemed “adequate”, but anything less was “too short” and beyond 13 minutes was “too long”.

The study, published today in the international Journal of Sexual Medicine, is designed help calm couples’ unrealistic beliefs that healthy sex should last a long time.

Continue reading