My Penis in Ribbon Bondage

One of my favourite fetishes is ribbon penis bondage, a practice introduced to me by a Dom woman partner in the 1980s. I was slim and tall as I am now, and she was bisexual and loved dressing me in her lingerie for some of our bondage sessions! Part of this fetish was an obsession with binding my penis with red or black satin ribbons. This tradition has continued with some of my more recent partners! This gallery contains still and video images of this fetish.

Short Video of the climax of a memorable ribbon bondage session.
Another video.

Fuck Me

Talk dirty to me again
In those loving words we always share
Offer me your precious pussy
Your breasts
Moist with desire
Your soft flesh
Ripe and hot
Your nimble fingers and tiny toes
Your sharp red painted nails

Fuck me with your tongue
And suck me wet with your eager lips
Tie my prick and balls with red ribbons
And lick the bound shaft of my manhood
Melt my sex away

Enfold me with your labia’s fleshy lips
Imprison me within your clitoral hood
Drown me in your soft vagina
Then spit me out again
And ask for more

Fuck me with your words
Fuck me with your body
Fuck me with your soul

Fuck me

Fuck me

Fuck me

A Poem About Latex Bondage from a Submissive’s Perspective.

Dedicated to a beautiful and sexy woman the thought of whom caused me to write it!

You Took Me As Your Plaything

I lie on the bed
Sheathed in latex and leather
My cock exposed
Through latex panties

You secure my arms and legs with leather straps
And bind my exposed prick with satin ribbons
You secure the latex hood covering my eyes
Lacing it at the back
Now forcing the inflatable gag between my open lips
You fix it to the hood with buckled straps
And thus I lie at your command!

I feel you trying a ribbon around by stiff cock
Even your nimble fingers struggle to tie the bow
You gently stroke the shaft and head
To keep my erection hard
And now it’s done!

I wait fixed in fabulous immobility
For your exquisite attentions

You start by licking my ears
And latex-masked eyes
Inflating the gag inside my mouth
Until I can can hardly breath
And then slowely releasing it
Repeating this several times

I gasp for air
You tell me to lie still

You move down now to your main course!

First you inflate the plug inside my anus
A delicious sensation sweeps through my sex
You tie another tight ribbon round my balls
Pulling the foreskin back from the hood of my prick
I gasp in muffled pleasure!

Now I feel your fingers on my engorged prick
Sliding gently up and down the wet shaft
Gently stroking the hood and foreskin
You love having my sex at your mercy
Controlling my every shortened breath
Playing with me

You climb onto the bed and lie between my latex legs
Stroking my inner thighs with your fingers
Licking up and down the shaft of my prick
I feel the milk in my penis rise like sap in a tree

Your fingers join in again
Gently untying the ribbon round my cock
They grip my prick while your lips explore the head
Licking it all around
Closing your lips you gently suck like a fish
Then, opening your mouth you take my prick deep inside
Repeatedly sliding your lips up and down
Sucking the wrinkled foreskin
Gently biting my bound cock and balls

I want to scream with pleasure
But the inflated ball gag stops me
Instead I emit only muffled sighs

Now you take your wand and turn it on
Pressing it to the base of my cock
Right between my balls
Sliding it slowly until it reached the head
While softly sucking and biting my balls

Struggling against my bound hands and ankles
I climax and feel your mouth slowely licking my milk

Once again you took me as your plaything
And mastered my cock
Taking my sex to new delights
I’m latex putty in your hands.

A Poem About Love Gone Wrong! (1998)

Like a Gun to My Head.

Like a gun to my head
I hold the phone
I tell you I’m fine
You ask what I’ve done
I say I met someone
And that we had a coffee
You ask what we said
And I can’t remember
You aren’t contented
I try to explain
You say I’m evasive
Confiding in others
And it should be you
Now I get angry
We argue
You cry
Time to feel guilty
All over again
Like a gun to my head
I hold the phone

A Song Poem to all my Lovers.

The lady comes to the gate dressed in lavender and leather
Looking North to the sea she finds the weather fine
She hears the steeple bells ringing through the orchard
All the way from town

She watches seagulls fly
Silver on the ocean stitching through the waves
The edges of the sky

Many people wander up the hills
From all around you
Making up your memories and thinking they have found you
They cover you with veils of wonder as if you were a bride

Young men holding violets are curious to know if you have cried
And tell you why
And ask you why

Any way you answer

Lace around the collars of the blouses of the ladies
Flowers from a Spanish friend of the family
The embroid’ry of your life holds you in
And keeps you out but you survive
Imprisoned in your bones

Behind the isinglass windows of your eyes

And in the night the iron wheels rolling through the rain
Down the hills through the long grass to the sea
And in the dark the hard bells ringing with pain
Come away alone

Even now by the gate with you long hair blowing
And the colors of the day that lie along your arms
You must barter your life to make sure you are living
And the crowd that has come
You give them the colors
And the bells and wind and the dream

Will there never be a prince who rides along the sea and the mountains
Scattering the sand and foam into amethyst fountains
Riding up the hills from the beach in the long summer grass
Holding the sun in his hands and shattering the isinglass?

Day and night and day again and people come and go away forever
While the shining summer sea dances in the glass of your mirror
While you search the waves for love and your visions for a sign
The knot of tears around your throat is crystallizing into your design

And in the night the iron wheels rolling through the rain
Down the hills through the long grass to the sea
And in the dark the hard bells ringing with pain
Come away alone
Come away alone… with me.

Albatross: Musixmatch Songwriters: Judy Collins

A Poem on Labels Given to Highly Sexualised People Like Me!

The range of labels clinicians and therapists feel compelled to attach to people like me is extensive. Here is a poem made from them with answers which may, or may not, be a reflection of my actual life and views.

Compulsive Masturbation

Guilty\Happy

Compulsive sexual behaviour

The Submissive loves being compelled

The Dom loves compelling others

Cybersex Addiction

Still searching for it on Google

Erotomania

My favourite artist passtime

Excessive sexual drive

It’s not “excessive” for me!

Hyperphilia

No idea! Does it hurt? Might try it some time!

Hypersexual Disorder

I’m certainly disordered

Problematic Hypersexuality

Sometimes and sometimes joyous!

Sexual Addiction

Well I’m addicted to life

Sexual Compulsivity

Compulsion is a creative energy I use!

Sexual Dependency

Life’s all about dependency?

Sexual Impulsivity

I just discovered it and I LOVE it!

Out of control sexual behaviour

My Pain and My Joy

And besides, control isn’t everything

Paraphilia-related disorder.

Disorder! 😋

And a Phillia! 😋

Ohhhhh sounds interesting, where can I get it!

YOURS THE HAPPY SATYRIASIST 😈

Am I a bipolar “hypersexual” man? Or just an everyday “Erotomaniac!”


So does my hypersexuality mean that I am Bipolar? A ‘friendly’ shrink once concluded I was

Hypersexuality it is often claimed, exists as a sympton of bipolar disorder. Also referred to as compulsive sexual behaviour, or sexual addiction, hypersexuality is commonly described as a “dysfunctional preoccupation with sexual fantasies, urges, or behaviours that are difficult to control”.

My response is only by those who have too little sexual imagination, making their sex urges easy to control! 😊

Nymphomania and satyriasis were terms previously used for the condition, in women and men respectively.

The description of bipolar hypersexual certainly sounds superficially like me at my peak!

Except that bipolar disorder is a rapid mood swing disorder in which a person experiences drastic mood swings — from feeling elated, energetic, and risky, to feeling depressed and uninterested.

And while I have had periods of depression in my life, including one major nervous breakdown, I do not experience regular and deep mood swings.

I have engaged in impulsive, reckless sexual behaviours and possess a significantly higher sex drive than most people (I suspect), but this impulse to make love has been a constant in my life, rather than part of repeated manic episodes.

I was permanently manic at the height of my sex addiction, before my erotic art diverted a crucial portion of my high sexual energy into my creative erotic artworks.

But while I have been some kind of quasi-hypersexual being, it isn’t provoked by bipolar disorder, at least as far as I can see.

But then, apparently, there is no formal definition for hypersexuality in any case.

People with bipolar disorder who are “experiencing hypersexuality” may: 

*Have multiple sex partners
*Think about sex constantly
*Have one-night stands
*Be more interested in pornography
*Notice a rapid difference in their sexual behaviours
*Engage in other reckless behaviours, like driving too fast, drugs or gambling

I certainly fit the first three! And I have always resorted to watching porn when I have no lover/s. But my sexual behaviour is pretty constant and also consistently kinky!

My form of recklessness was largely confined to having many affairs, some simultaneously, and covering them up. The inability to control my fetishist sexual urges lead to my first broken marriages. I was also distraught over having hurt my first wife, who felt confused and angry for having been cheated on.

I have a highly developed conscience and suffer remorse for my many sins of omission (lies and half truths) and commission (affairs). And I hated the lying and leaving partners I liked. So at least I’m not a sociopath! 🤔

I was certainly a sexual adrenaline junkie, hooked on the frissons of danger (the danger of being caught and of exploting another new and perhaps dangerously unknown quantity partner) at the height of my hypersexual activities.

But do we need a clinical definition of hyperpersexual behaviours, viewed variously by clinicians and therapists as a type of Obsessive-Compulsive disorder (OCD) and an addiction, or a disorder of impulsivity, for people like me?

A number of authors do not acknowledge such a pathology exists and claim that the supposed condition merely reflects a cultural dislike of exceptional sexual behavior.

That’s where I tend to fall.

I’m a horny fetishist with a vivid imagination who sufficiently good looking and engaging to allow him to follow a somewhat dangerous hypersexualised lifestyle.

And the fact that me erotic art has freed me from a lot of the cravings and risk taking is a sign of this.

If I am OCD it’s more about my erotic art than my erotic urges these days.

But, I may be deluding myself.

Postscript

The range of labels clinicians and therapists feel compelled to attach to people like me, when manic in the way I used to be, is extensive including:

Compulsive Masturbation, Compulsive sexual behavior, Cybersex Addiction, Erotomania (my favourite) “excessive sexual drive”, Hyperphilia, Hypersexuality, Hypersexual Disorder, Problematic Hypersexuality, Sexual Addiction, Sexual Compulsivity, Sexual Dependency, Sexual Impulsivity, “out of control sexual behavior”, and Paraphilia-related disorder.

My Sex life Defined as Movie Titles

Recently I was asked to describe my past sex life using only movie titles!

Ignoring the fact that I have calmed down enormously since I started doing my erotic art and got old and sensible, I compiled the following list!

Towering Inferno, Frank Zappa’s 10,000 Motels, No Country for Old Men, Alien, With Nail and I, Kill Bill, Manhattan Murder Mystery, Maîtress, Hiding in the Dark (if this was ever a movie), Last Tango in Paris (Bath actually), 2001 a Space Odesey, Climax, Les Miserables, and, of course, Terminator 2!

The final choice is because, like the silver shape shifter in that movie, I’ve walked through the flames and poured petrol on my own fire, yet somehow I continue to stagger ever onwards.

The others just speak for themselves!

No wonder I have serious issues around my sex life.

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂