Yesterday, one of the most traumatic experiences of my sex life occurred. It wasn’t violent, just bloody and unexpected. I’m going to write about it in fairly graphic terms so if you’re squeamish, just close the browser. No will ever know. If you’re curious to know what it takes to squick me, keep reading.
It started with Harold and me having our date as normal. We took some pictures for my Valentine’s Day feature, then we made out. Things were starting to warm up and Harold suggested that I do some of the things to him that I had been fantasizing about. Yay! I got out a bunch of equipment and I started to hook him up!
I tried some new water-based lube on his cock, which seemed to work very well. I had Harold tie up his balls. I put electrode pads on the front and back of his scrotum and put the whole thing inside a vice. I inserted a copper butt-plug and wired it up. And I sterilized a small sound, moistened it with brand new lube, slid it into his cock, and wired that. It was a sweet set-up.
Electricity was running through his balls and from his prostate to his cock. I slowly turned up the intensity, both with the electricity and the vice crushing his balls. Harold had his hand on his cock most of the time, slowly stroking. I did take his cock for a few moments. The sound never went lower than the base of the penis, but it moved around a lot when I stroked up and down.
Everything was going really well. I knew he was close to coming. I thought about stopping him so we could fuck, but he was totally immersed in the sensations. It was getting me pretty excited too! I decided to let him go. As I suspected he soon started coming hard.
Completely unexpected was that he was coming blood. Fountains of blood.
It was like a bad dream or a horror flick where the kids who hide out to have sex are the first to die. I was freaking out. But very quietly and calmly. I immediately turned off the electricity. I pulled out the sound. I mentioned to Harold that he was coming blood – this was news to him. And still blood kept trickling out of his cock. It was all over his hands. It ran in rivulets down his sides and groin. I just calmly kept putting everything away and cleaning up the blood. Harold had the gall to ask if I was going to take pictures.
But I was very shaken. Harold seemed okay, but what if I had done something that caused actual damage – not just some pain for him to get off on. I don’t want to hurt him for real. I had visions of him losing consciousness. I would have to call 911 and explain. We would have to carry him up the hill – all 69 steep steps. Or what if I broke his cock? Melanie would never forgive me.
In truth, Harold is fine. Even right after the bleeding, he had only as much pain as he’s had in the past when we’ve done similar things. We cleaned everything up, including the 3 blankets he bled on. He urinated and there was no blood. We talked and came up with a likely cause for the bleeding. We think that the sound ruptured or scraped something while it was moving around. Harold’s erection caused there to be more blood available and kept the blood trapped until he orgasmed. Hence the fountain of blood.
I’m relieved that Harold is okay. I spent some time falling apart and crying, but I am now okay. The whole experience has been an opportunity for me to re-evaluate the ways that Harold and I play. It feels so normal to me to play hard, but there are often potentially dangerous risks to what we do. As Harold reminded me yesterday, there’s a reason that this stuff is called edge play. I’ve been feeling like if I am careful and responsible, everything will be fine, but that’s not always true.
We won’t be sounding again. Harold didn’t really like it anyway. But I doubt we’ll change anything else. I’m thankful for the wake-up call before something serious happened, but I’ll probably keep playing hard. It’s part of who I am. Now that I have a better idea of where that edge is, maybe I can keep from falling over.