Study: Ejaculate More, Have Less Prostate Cancer Risk


Can we all stand to read yet another article on this topic?

From a March Medscape article:

Study: Ejaculate More, Have Less Prostate Cancer Risk

A study on ejaculation and prostate cancer risk, which made a big splash at last year’s annual meeting of the American Urological Association (AUA), was published online March 29 in European Urology.

“This large prospective study provides the strongest evidence to date of a beneficial role of ejaculation in prevention of prostate cancer,” write the researchers, led by Jennifer Rider, ScD, MPH, a cancer epidemiologist at the Boston University School of Public Health.

Okay, good. We’re done now, and we can all get back to… wait, what’s that?

“Association does not mean causation, so one has to be cautious about interpretation,” Janet Stanford, PhD, MPH, a prostate cancer researcher at the Fred Hutchison Cancer Research Center in Seattle, who was not involved in the study, said about the observational data.

Really? It would have seemed obvious that more ejaculation is healthier.

After potential confounders were controlled for in multivariate analyses, the relative risk for prostate cancer was about 20% lower in men who ejaculated at least 21 times a month than in men who ejaculated four to seven times a month. For high-frequency ejaculators, this risk reduction was seen in all three time periods (P trend < .0001 for all).

But… there’s always a but, isn’t there?

Notably, there was no association between ejaculation frequency and high-grade, advanced, or lethal disease. The reason for this exception is not known.

The risk reduction effect seen in the study is “modest,” according to Dr Rider’s team and Dr Stanford. And they acknowledge that other studies have pointed to sexual activity as a possible modifiable risk factor for prostate cancer development.
Wait, so there’s a difference but not much difference, is that what you’re saying, Doc?

The researchers speculate what could be at work, mechanically, and offer one explanation: the prostate might accumulate potentially carcinogenic secretions that can lead to prostate cancer. This idea, known as the prostate stagnation hypothesis, has been around for decades, Dr Rider reported.

That theory might have parallels in folk wisdom. When these results were reported last year, a Medscape reader commented that the results make common sense, and urged his fellow male readers to “keep the pipes clean boys!”
So, a study of almost 20 years and over 30,000 men concludes that… it depends.

Ejaculation? Well, here’s somebody that doesn’t seem to be very worried about it.

And a few more days in The Fort


When we last left off, our intrepid protagonist was locked in his ridiculous heavy metal chastity device, and waiting for his wife to come home after a trip to visit family in Hooterville. The story continues…

Mrs. Edge came in a bit later than expected because her plane was delayed. Since I did not have time to go grocery shopping wanted to show her how much I missed her, we went out for a quick burger and a glass of wine, and caught up on our respective weeks. Afterward, we watched some tv to digest, and I hopped into the shower (I find that I sleep better if I shower before bed). When I got out of the bathroom, she walked into the bedroom, swinging her black leather riding crop.

Umm… I should note that I may have given the impression that I locked myself in The Fort right after she left in the pre-dawn hours the previous week. Because I wasn’t sure if The Fort would work for me, I didn’t use her lock for the first few days, I used my own so I could remove it and make adjustments. And in the few times that I removed it, I might have, err… abused myself a time or four. But because I’m a 15 year old at heart, I might have mentioned it to her instead of being quiet about it.

Mentioned it? Oh hell, I actually taunted her.

And because I’m a 15 year old at heart, I kept taunting her even after I locked on the cage. In fact, until I got out of the shower, she wasn’t even aware that I was wearing anything.

She just eyed The Fort, and instructed me to bend over the bed, where she started in on the punishment strokes. No warmup, no niceties; she was “teaching me a lesson” because she was “very disappointed” that I’d had a little too much self-enjoyment over the past week. Once she decided that my ass was sufficiently reddened, we got into bed, where she fell asleep quickly.

The next morning she didn’t say anything about removing the cage, so I again went to work with it on. Later that night, I think I worked out, we had dinner, then watched TV or something. I took a shower, she joined me in bed, and we went to sleep. And the next few days were the same: she didn’t show any inclination to let me stop wearing the device. She asked about it a couple of times, and I told her that it was heavy, and that was it. She didn’t seem to show any interest one way or the other.

Another half a week went by, and I made an interesting discovery: I was more comfortable wearing looser jeans and snug underwear for support. The snug jeans kept The Fort from shifting, but also made it dig into me because there was no give. The looser jeans allowed it to sort of settle in to a position, where my underwear held it (mostly) in place.

One night, just about when I was thinking I’d be locked in until Xmas or something, Mrs. Edge decided that I needed more “maintenance,” and again instructed me to lay across the bed. As she was, umm, maintaining me, she asked if I thought I wouldn’t be punished, and if I’d thought that by putting on the device that she’d be tempted to go easy on me. She kept at it until I actually yelled out a few times, and then stopped. Mrs. Edge gets turned on by my being stoic about her maintenance, perhaps making a little grunt or moan. She figures that if I’m at the point where I’m yelling, then that’s like a safeword. Go figure.

She went to sleep, but I was awake for a while. For reasons I can’t explain, except to say that my brain is obviously miswired, I found it incredibly hot to be on the receiving end of the crop while at the same time wearing the device. That is, the two weren’t “connected” in my head until that night, and once it happened, I just had this warmly, aroused feeling. I spooned her until I fell asleep.

The next morning she wanted the cage off, but before we could enjoy ourselves, one of her migraines hit, and then there were family things going on, and then it was Thanksgiving, and so we pretty much didn’t even see each other again. #MarriedLifeProblems

Anyway, that wraps up my review of The Fort. Yes, it’s heavy, but that ended up not being the worse thing in the world. It did make me start looking at those cage-style devices, if only for the ability to clean them more easily, since even though it was stainless, it still held a little bit of odor after removing it. Will I wear it again? Maybe. It’s still a shorter term device, in my opinion, but it’s manageable.

Still, all that shiny stainless steel looks pretty hot, you know?

 


And here’s a nice picture of a mature woman who is not going to take any nonsense from a 15 year old boy – even one who is trapped in 57 year old body.

 

Ms. Dana von Specht

More Male Chastity in the Mainstream


A little article in The Sun appeared in my Google alerts today, and after a few retweents I discovered that it’s actually a bit from a Closer article earlier in September.

50 Shades girlfriend reveals: “I lock up my lover’s willy to keep him under control!’

Laura Hallan never has to worry that her boyfriend might be tempted to stray – he literally can’t.

It’s a very basic and innocuous article that, if it weren’t for the bit about the chastity device, wouldn’t cause anyone to notice.

It’s all part of their dominant/submissive relationship – a dynamic made famous in the novel 50 Shades of Grey, in that case the man, successful business man Christian Grey, was in charge of his girlfriend, college student Anastasia – but in this case, Laura is firmly in charge.

And here’s a nice shot of Laura in a shiny leather top, the mark of a Domme, right? Oh, and she’s seated next to an array of chastity devices.  My guess is that most of these devices sit in a drawer because they’re inconvenient or uncomfortable.

“The longest I’ve ever made him wait is two months. But it’s a turn on for both of us and we both enjoy it – if we didn’t then we wouldn’t do it.”

Well, two months is a decent amount of time, so kudos to them. And also, nice work for Closer Magazine, who didn’t turn this couple into a kinky freak show like we so often see.


What’s interesting is that from the article it would appear that it was Laura who initiated his wearing the device.

Following a new path


It’s hard to believe that The Edge of Vanilla as a blog is going on nine years, after my having spent several years on various online groups (most of which no longer even exist), and that Mrs. Edge and I started our chastity journey several years even before that. Fifteen years of “enforced” chastity and denial has been alternately a fun and frustrating ride, through some high and low points in our marriage, and into some areas of growth for the both of us.

I know that this blog has departed from the personal stories and insights into the odd bits of humor and interesting sex news, but that’s because I really haven’t quite been able to process the recent changes in our relationship. Not that things haven’t been good; for the most part, they have been. Rather, things are just… somehow different in a way that I hadn’t begun to appreciate until very recently.

A decade and a half is a lot of time for self discovery, and both Mrs. Edge and I have changed a bit during that time. We’ve gone from longer and longer term lockups for me, to abandoning the devices in favor of self-control (or more correctly, my giving over to her control); after which she experimented a few times with ruined orgasms, but eventually preferred to just deny me, in essence, permanently; a situation which I’ve accepted because it’s really what I’d asked for — not specifically, of course, but rather as a circumstance extending from asking for her control over me in the first place.

But it’s the way that our lives outside of the bedroom have come to merge with our play inside the bedroom that has now had the greatest impact on our marriage, and by extension, the future (if there is one) of this blog.

I’ve written about how Mrs. Edge has been very involved with the church, but usually from the volunteer aspects of running the various dinners and social functions that are the lifeblood of a large church in the suburbs. But in recent years she has become more religious-oriented, and in the course of attending a lot of women’s groups, women’s retreats, and assorted classes, she has developed a new conception of marriage and relationships — in part because of her accepting control of my sexuality — that has given her the mindset that she has a moral obligation to take control outside the bedroom as well.

There’s an irony in that her becoming more deeply involved in this aspect of Christianity has made her both less inclined to be sexual in general, let alone kinky, while at the same time her attitudes (and actions) have become more, well, femdommish — although I wouldn’t dare mention this to her because she has declared that she is moving away from such things. Indeed, Mrs. Edge has always claimed to be straight vanilla, and has never wavered from her position that our use of chastity devices or orgasm control has been anything but “normal” sex. That attitude hasn’t changed much, except that she now thinks that devices are unnecessary because a well-trained husband (meaning me) should no longer need them, and that any accidents or loss of control on my part (intentionally or otherwise) should be dealt with swiftly so they don’t become a habit. Consequently, over the last few months she has asked me to discard the small handful of toys that we’ve acquired over the years.

Because I’ve already been accustomed to long-term denial, I’m not overly concerned about her continuing to expect control over my orgasms; after a decade and a half of this lifestyle, it’s become second nature to me, and it’s rare that I even expect to come during our lovemaking — which of late has become more typically my performing oral on her until she’s satisfied and sleepy. It’s funny, but for most of our marriage, she didn’t particularly care about my going down on her. I mean, she enjoyed it when I did, but it wasn’t something she ever requested. This past year, though, it’s become a requirement several nights a week, usually at bedtime, after which I spoon her until she falls asleep.

For a while now she has been referring to this as “worshipping at her temple,” a euphemism that she picked up in one of her women’s groups. Occasionally, I’ll be working on something in the office and she’ll just walk into the room and announce that “It’s time for worship services,” and I’m expected to drop everything and attend her needs. Once satisfied, she thanks me lovingly and sends me back to whatever I happened to be doing.

There’s no expectation of intercourse; that’s reserved for the evening, and only before bedtime. I enjoy it just as much as ever, even without coming, which, as you can imagine, can be sometimes difficult. I’ve learned to hold back because I’m now required to “clean up after any accidents.” Yeah, the idea sounds pretty hot in all the chastity erotica, but trust me: the reality is very different, and even after a few months I’m no happier about doing it. Worse, I’m beginning to suspect that Mrs. Edge sometimes, well, intentionally provokes those accidents, for reasons I still can’t understand.

The biggest change in our relationship, though, is that her readings and women’s group sessions have led to her insistence that she, as the spiritual head of the household, has an obligation to set a course for us as a couple — and that obligation carries the requirement that she needs to  “continually correct the course” (as she has put it several times) when it deviates. Not that it deviates often, but when it does, for some reason it always seems to end up back on me.

Credit card is overspent? That’s on me for not calling her attention to beforehand. Cautioning her on her spending? I’m overstepping my boundaries and not giving her enough credit for being financially savvy. If I come home a little late from work? I should have called to let her know I was working late. If I call to let her know I’m working a bit late? I shouldn’t have woken her from her afternoon nap. I cleaned the bathroom on Sunday? I should have done it Saturday when she was out shopping so she wouldn’t have to smell the cleaning products. Clean it when she’s out shopping? I should have been… you know, I still haven’t figured out what made her upset that time.

Interestingly, she hasn’t insisted that I go to church more often.  In fact, she often skips Sunday services, herself, although she rarely misses the several Christian women’s group meetings each week — after which she usually comes home affectionate, if pensive. Dinner the next day is when she generally talks to me about things, including the need for the occasional “course correction.”

Those “corrections” originally felt like a bit of kinky play; you know, like “funishment.” Not that Mrs. Edge considered any of it be kinky, mind you, because she simply does not identify that way, and would be a little offended if you suggested it. Over the last few months, however, they have taken on a more serious edge; we no longer seem to “play” with it, but rather, she has become more determined to “correct” those little issues. What I mean is that she has taken it on as a serious duty because (as she insists) it will only serve to strengthen our marriage. Just before Christmas, she told me to go online shopping in order to replace our “toy” riding crop (an anniversary gag gift from a friend of hers) with a more “professional” model that would hold up better under actual use.

In fact, Mrs. Edge has recently taken to insisting that I need regular “reminders,” as she calls them, because there’s little to “correct” anymore.  Those reminder sessions seem to be shortly after those Christian women’s group meetings, too. And what with the Women’s Spiritual Reflection group, the Christian Women’s Reading group, the Women’s Godly Journey group, the Christianity and the Modern Woman group, the Women’s Christian Leadership group, and the Discover Your Goddess Inside group, she’s out at least a couple of nights a week. I’m being “reminded” quite a bit lately.

The “course correction” and “reminder” sessions are, as I mentioned, usually the day after one of her many Christian women’s group meetings, typically right after I get home from work. She greets me, always affectionately, and gives me a few minutes to unwind. Then she kisses me lovingly, and gives me a rundown of the things that she believes need some correction or (more typically) a “gentle reminder.” She then directs me to the bedroom where I’m to strip down, bend over grasping the footboard, and to “think about things” while I wait for her. After a few minutes, she comes in, reassures me that she loves me, and that this is all for the good of our marriage. And then she begins “correcting” or “reminding” me. There’s no rhyme or reason as to how long she corrects me; she prays out loud as she does this, and finishes when the prayer ends. Once finished, she kisses me, and tells me to take a shower while she finishes cooking dinner. After dinner, we snuggle on the couch watching some TV, during which she’s always very affectionate. Interestingly, correction and reminder nights are usually when she requests that I “worship at her temple” before bedtime.

And that brings me back around to what I mentioned earlier, about the future of this blog.

Easter is coming, and that represents a spiritual rebirth for Christians. Mrs. Edge has stepped up the corrections and the reminders this past week, and over the weekend we had a few long talk about what she sees for the future of our marriage. I can’t say that I’m completely surprised, nor can I say that it’s unwelcome. Yes, there are some aspects that have me a little apprehensive, but she explained that it’s to be expected. She has been reassuring me that she loves me more than ever, of course, even as her demeanor has become more firm. I have no doubt of this, for some reason; in fact, in many respects it feels as if our relationship has become stronger, and more intimate. The closeness has made the corrections and reminders worth it.

So, I guess I have to give some thanks to the Church for helping us to strengthen our marriage, even though it’s not what I would have imagined fifteen years ago. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to continue writing, as Mrs. Edge has become a little hesitant about me writing online, and hanging out in the various online sex forums. She no longer considers it to be proper behavior for a Christian husband, and is concerned that those “weird sex perverts” might give me improper ideas.

I certainly don’t want it to be a point of “correction” in the future, if you know what I mean.

 


 

 

 

Can we talk about fantasies?


Mrs. Edge and I have been re-evaluating our relationship lately. Nothing major or earth-shattering; we’ve just been spending more time talking about what kinds of things work or don’t work for us, and more importantly, why they do or don’t work.

Over the course of the last few months, I found myself trying to get her to understand what actually turns me on about some of my fantasies, and why I don’t need to act them out verbatim, as a script – something that she used to think I was asking for. And in talking about fantasies, I realized that there is a very common trope in femdomme related fantasy-land:  the woman who goes from Vanilla to Cruella overnight, and discovers that it’s her preference.

The stories usually go something like this: A guy is getting bored in his relationship, and spends more time masturbating to porn, and less time romancing his partner. She notices his lack of interest and becomes upset (alternately, she thinks he’s having an affair), and then begins to snoop. She then finds his secret porn stash, or browser history that he forgot to erase, or his links to FetBook, or whatever, and thinks to herself “If he wants a cruel bitch to dominate him, that’s exactly what he’s going to get, the bastard!”

The unsuspecting guy then comes home to find his partner dressed in a leather jumpsuit, dangling cuffs from one hand and swinging a crop with the other. Or Ms. Vanilla suggests a little light bondage one evening, and after he’s securely tied down, she changes into her newly bought Dominatrix outfit and then…

The stories usually end with the couple enjoying their new life, generally with the woman totally comfortable with her new role, and the guy expressing some kind of “Be careful what you wish for” ending.

Now, I know you’ve seen those stories out there. Chastity oriented tales end with the guy in longer lockups than he ever anticipated. BDSM fantasies end up with the guy being whipped, pegged, kept as a slave, whatever.

So, I was trying to explain to Mrs. Edge both these are such common tropes, and what men found so appealing about those sudden transformation stories. The only thing I could come up with is that they are in some ways a tale not so much about her gaining power as about his loss of it. But still, I’m at a loss to explain why it’s such a common theme, so I’m asking you, the kink brain trust, for some help in understanding this.

Anybody?


And while I’m thinking about dominant wives…

 

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mind too much if I came home to find Mrs. Edge dressed like this…