February 11th

Lesson for the day, boys and girls. A 'sound' is not what that fool in the little gofast car with the four foot bass reverb speakers has. It isn't even what your upstairs neighbors put on just as you're going to sleep.

A urethral sound is a fairly advanced piece of play equipment. It is a sterile steel item about the size of the catheters that the doctors threatened you with. A foot or so long, in various thicknesses, inserted in your pee hole. The urinary meatus is the opening and the urethra is the tube leading down to your bladder. Here today to show us the ...ahem ... in's and out's... of this procedure was Tom Gordon, a long time member of the Hellfire Club out of the Chicago area.

Tom was in Seattle some months ago for this demo at one of the Wet Spot's men's parties and Kevin was his crash test dummy. Kevin enjoyed it enough that he and I are in the process of special ordering a set of a half dozen different sizes, 2-3 each of each size smaller than and larger than his current dilation-of-choice. This time Tom was invited back to give a similar presentation to a pan audience of men and women both, and as well he touched on prostate massage and basic electrical play. The room was filled with about 40 or so folks, and Tom brought his own crash test dummy with him, a friend of his from the local area. He covered all the safety concerns, passed around sample sounds [one of the biggest ones he had, of course, around the size of those tricolor red/green/black pens], explained how to home-sterilize everything you need and use, and then proceeded on to demo the procedure - both technically and sensually - on his friend, laying out on a hospital stretcher. As terrifying as the concept of "shoving something down the hole in your dick" is to most men, it appeared to be a wonderfully gentle and sensual experience, one I'm looking forward to helping Kevin to experience again and again sometime soon.

After completing the sounds demo, with his friend still on the stretcher, Tom passed out handouts on prostate massage and then not only explained and demoed it, but solicited for folks from the gathered audience to glove up and play "find the prostate on the bottom". I personally love Mr Prostate both playing with and being played with. What I saw in the demo subject has also been my experience both in myself and in the people I've plumbed the depths of -- you may not know what you're looking for or where it is, but once you touch the Mr Prostate in your bottom's bottom he will absolutely let you know you've found it.

Moving on again, same crash test dummy still on the gurney, Tom showed some basic electrical play. Once again, this poor man laying there had to endure several variations on public pleasure experiencing, and he just leaned into it, as Kevin had in Tom's last demo.

Tom is a natural teacher and chats with the audience instead of speaking down to them. I think the entire afternoon was time well spent, and that seemed to be the agreement of both Tom and the assembled multitude.

Kevin and I headed out to dinner from Tom's class and enjoyed some fine entrees at Pandasia, just up the street from the Wet Spot. There was an hour lag between the end of the demonstration and the Spot's first Bend Over Boyfriend party. He and I had been tapped by Georgette, the resident Goddess at the Wet Spot, to be facilitators for the BOB party. It was fairly disappointing, the low turnout for the party. There was a lot of conversation, and Georgette and I gave a bit of a Taste Of Kink to some new folks who had all the enthusiasm and curiosity I once had.

At one point early in the evening Kevin and I were chatting with a friend [how about if I call him Dawg, just for an anonymous handle for online], a gay leatherman who had recently had a tremendous degree of stress at work where he had to absolutely be in charge, on top, in control and he pulled off everything in fine form. Tonight, however, he told me he drastically needed an evening where he made no decisions, where he was able to turn control 100% over. Works for me! There was little else going on. Kev and I took him over to the medical room and put him up on the gyn table, feet in the stirrups. Now, Dawg had mentioned desiring prostate massage, and had told me not to worry about entry, as he was more or less like the Holland Tunnel back there, and had taken dicks of massive size. Kevin gloved up and lubed up and started the work, as he has much smaller hands than mine. Kevin is also much more patient and painstaking than I. He got a chair and got comfie between the stirrups and ever so slowly and carefully he began to do first external rosebud massage, working slowly to finger insertion. I was standing at Dawg's side, feeding Kev more lube as he needed it and playing with Dawg's nipple rings a good bit when it seemed needed. When I wasn't diddling with his nipple rings I was reaching down and playing all around his dick, balls, PA, and whatever came to hand. We all three had a great time for probably close to an hour before I was finally able to kick Kevin out of the chair and change places. All this time Dawg is moaning something about how no one has ever taken anywhere near this time just giving simple pleasure to his little rosebud in a gentle search for his prostate. I guess he's used to "slam bam take it bitch" kinda fucking. Neither Kevin nor I came out with anything remotely sounding like "who's your daddy". I didn't find a Holland Tunnel - at the furthest reach of my longest finger, longer than Kevin's, I was able to find and massage Dawg's little button. [An ex of mine used to call it the GQ Spot, male equivalent to the girls' G Spot.] Kev was vigorously masturbating Dawg from the side while I was pushing and shoving and playing with the little inner donut I'd found. We finally got to the point where he couldn't take any more massage... about ten minutes after the agony in my arthritic knuckles was telling me "pull out! pull out!"... and I got out, cleaned up, and eventually took over for Kevin after the really brutal jerking off style Dawg preferred just about busted Kev's wrists. It was a great time for all three of us. Just what Dawg had asked for and one helluva lot of fun for the two of us. It made the whole evening worthwhile.

I just really want to support more BOB style parties. I think there's a lot of interest out there in various kinds of anal play both for men, women, and others, but it really runs into rough resistance from a lot of people. Old notions, internalized homophobia, painful old experiences... it can all be overcome but it's going to take a lot of time.

Tomorrow, my annual physical. Well, it's been 2-3 years but you know what I mean. In the meantime, life is quite good.

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