A Gimp’s Chronicle

[BillyC]

I’ve mentioned before in posts that I had knee surgery last month — “severely” torn ACL. So I’m sidelined for months — no running, swimming, tennis, biking, CrossFit, boxing, SURFING . . . If I sound bitter, adjust your hearing aids — I’m cranky as fuckn hell! But that’s not the story I’m reporting.

Yesterday I insisted I’d go to CrossFit and do some upper body. We’ve got guests from the mainland, and over three men’s objections (my husband leading that opposition) in addition to my PT, in front of whom I declared my intent, I went. It felt fuckn good, particularly my arms-only rope climbs (with four hot men under me in case I fell!). But inevitably I was sidelined for half of the WOD.

As is always the case, there are always young (Millennial, Z), horny bitches at CrossFit, and many of them like “daddies” — I’ve stopped resisting the term . . . since I am, in fact, a dad, among other reasons. One who’s there for the next WOD comes over to me while I’m steaming because my husband, our two friends and our PT are keeping their heart rates up and sweating like pigs while I’m warming the bench — literally! “Yo, nice to see a hot man in a jock,” he leads off with and pulls his shorts to the side to show me a pristine GYM.

I feigned disinterest. “Difference is, when you grow up you’ll know that washing jockstraps is a sin,” I told him, pulling my silkies to the side and displaying my filthy pouch enough so he could even get a whiff if he wanted. Needless to say I followed him to the men’s room in the lockers and got an enthusiastic, if not expert, hummer. Before I came I made him beg for it and told him he’d only get it if he vowed to never wash his jockstraps again. When he was done swallowing and I’d told him he was a good boy he asked if I’d be willing to swap with him, but I declined and told him when he had a strap worthy of trade, THEN I’d swap him. He’s vowed to work on that, too.

I’m kinda a pied piper of jockstraps — whattaya think? (Okay, that’s not original — my husband came up with that when I told them the story on the way home.)

 

[BillyC]

It’s two months (and another birthday— ugh!) since I started this “chronicle.” Mea culpa. Most usages of “chronicle” are in the sense of a series of events, not just a one and done. (God knows I wouldn’t have held onto my hunky, handsome, rich husband if I was, in fact, a one and done!!! LOL) Yet I realized that most of the past 3+ months since my knee repair have been me bitching about all the things I can’t do (yet). But today there was an epilogue to the prior post’s CrossFit event.

The same hot young Millennial stud who’d given me the blowjob in return for my wise tutelage on strap-wearing was back for the first time today since early November. He’d greeted me and told me he’d “taken my advice” and was “ready for inspection” with a cheeky grin. Since I’m a lot more active now as my rehab progresses, I told him if he was around when we were done and went back to my efforts to not overexert my knee but do as much as I can.

I’d forgotten him by the time we hit the lockers, but there he was. He walks up to us, yanks down his shorts, and there’s the Gym that was pristine two months ago, stinking, grimy and stained . . . as it should be! Needless to say, he missed his WOD but got a special WOD from three of us banging him and adding a newly worked up sweat, his load blown in his pouch, and ours running out of him onto his straps to join what is doubtless many other guys’ drippage. I told him next time we were stripping that strap off him when we were done with him and keeping it for a souvenir. He said he was happy to know there’d be a next time. Goodtimes!

 

[BillyC]

Today’s update, more than a month later, expands the infirmities — my husband was in a car accident right after my last post to this, so now he’s seeing why I’ve been so surly the past four months since my knee repair.

Two of us on restriction — his neck injury was sustained when an idiot driving like an asshole hit him head on on Diamond Head Road, coming off Kahala. This is literally blocks from our house, The three herniated disks and multiple torn tendons and ligaments in his neck were actually the least of what he might have sustained. In fact, my beautiful, smart, wonderful, hunk of a husband could have been no more were it not for the engineering in his ridiculously self indulgent Lamborghini Urus.

But back to the whining about all the things we can’t do.

I still can’t run . . . which means no tennis or boxing or surfing, either. With his neck, neither can he. He’s about as cranky as I was at the beginning (clue — he’s not capable of being as cranky as an old, wizened jarhead!). He does, however, tell me every day that he’s sorry he wasn’t more sympathetic to me back in late October, November, etc.

The good news is he had virtually no damage to his shoulder that had to be completely reconstructed a few years ago after a bad biking accident. The bad news is I have to go east on fucking him, just like during that recovery — restraint is not my forte. So I’m crankier . . . again.

The worst news is he’s at not go or completely benched status at CrossFit. And that goes to the various and sundry opps we have there when young, strapped, sweat soaked muscleheads offer themselves to us. While the one we had a few times mentioned in the prior installment has gone AWOL, the last two we’ve taken stinking jockstraps from have been me doing and my husband getting a blowjob at most. While spitroasting is fun, for me watching my husband tear up a sweat jockhole before I finish it off is something I can’t wait to get back to.

A couple of details, for those who crave them.

The Swiss visitor was hairy from cheeks (the upper ones) to toes — dark hair over milky skin stretched over a canvas of muscle and sinew that would put to shame any Muscle and Fitness coverboy. His jockstrap was an old, very well used but too clean (he’d worn it four days since washing it before he left) Zimmerli — a new addition to our portfolio and apparently extinct, as the company stopped making them. The three times we did him he wore it throughout and added a total of four loads to it.

The NY Puerto Rican cop was mostly smooth, very dark skinned, and unlike the Swiss who shaved his head, he had thick hair that was great as a handle. He jokingly said, when I asked, that he was “puto Rican”. Fuck yeah he was. And while the conversation started with straps (he complimented me on my utterly filthy McDavid and my husband’s similarly crusty Adidas we were wearing that day, and I complimented him on his weeks used Nike and gave him the “never wash” pitch) it quickly went where men’s conversation in locker rooms particularly can go — him making clear he’d gladly be our puto. And he was for each of the remaining days he was here on the island, dutifully adding to the stink and residue on that Nike until he left. Now he’s protecting and likely serving the men of NYC again.

In both of the above cases we scored the straps as souvenirs at the end — in the cop’s case at the end of his stay, as he reused it for each WOD and other strenuous activities he undertook while he was here.

I still have to ride my bike “slowly and gently”, and my husband isn’t even cleared for that yet. He went out and ordered us obscenely expensive electric bikes (maybe even beyond obscene), THEN mentioned it to me and our shared physiatrist and PT. Both were indignant and put the kibosh on him even trying it anytime soon. I did try it . . . and asked if he could return them for the cash. LOL What’s the sense of anything physical if your own muscles aren’t doing the work? That doesn’t get my strap soaked! Well, right now I’m not doing that much, either! LOL

So we soldier on with getting back toward normal for us . . . and we let the bitchboys we pickup do the jockstrap seasoning . . . for now.

 

[billTO]

Wonderful writing, BC. I do have one question: how in heaven;s name do you connect with these studs? At the gym? Details, please!!! (I still enjoy thinking about those two ripe.Frenchmen.)

And best wishes for your two recoveries.

 

[easlgrundle]

Today’s update, more than a month later, expands the infirmities — my husband was in a car accident right after my last post to this, so now he’s seeing why I’ve been so surly the past four months since my knee repair.

Two of us on restriction — his neck injury was sustained when an idiot driving like an asshole hit him head on on Diamond Head Road, coming off Kahala. This is literally blocks from our house, The three herniated disks and multiple torn tendons and ligaments in his neck were actually the least of what he might have sustained. In fact, my beautiful, smart, wonderful, hunk of a husband could have been no more were it not for the engineering in his ridiculously self indulgent Lamborghini Urus.

But back to the whining about all the things we can’t do.

I still can’t run . . . which means no tennis or boxing or surfing, either. With his neck, neither can he. He’s about as cranky as I was at the beginning (clue — he’s not capable of being as cranky as an old, wizened jarhead!). He does, however, tell me every day that he’s sorry he wasn’t more sympathetic to me back in late October, November, etc.

The good news is he had virtually no damage to his shoulder that had to be completely reconstructed a few years ago after a bad biking accident. The bad news is I have to go east on fucking him, just like during that recovery — restraint is not my forte. So I’m crankier . . . again.

The worst news is he’s at not go or completely benched status at CrossFit. And that goes to the various and sundry opps we have there when young, strapped, sweat soaked muscleheads offer themselves to us. While the one we had a few times mentioned in the prior installment has gone AWOL, the last two we’ve taken stinking jockstraps from have been me doing and my husband getting a blowjob at most. While spitroasting is fun, for me watching my husband tear up a sweat jockhole before I finish it off is something I can’t wait to get back to.

A couple of details, for those who crave them.

The Swiss visitor was hairy from cheeks (the upper ones) to toes — dark hair over milky skin stretched over a canvas of muscle and sinew that would put to shame any Muscle and Fitness coverboy. His jockstrap was an old, very well used but too clean (he’d worn it four days since washing it before he left) Zimmerli — a new addition to our portfolio and apparently extinct, as the company stopped making them. The three times we did him he wore it throughout and added a total of four loads to it.

The NY Puerto Rican cop was mostly smooth, very dark skinned, and unlike the Swiss who shaved his head, he had thick hair that was great as a handle. He jokingly said, when I asked, that he was “puto Rican”. Fuck yeah he was. And while the conversation started with straps (he complimented me on my utterly filthy McDavid and my husband’s similarly crusty Adidas we were wearing that day, and I complimented him on his weeks used Nike and gave him the “never wash” pitch) it quickly went where men’s conversation in locker rooms particularly can go — him making clear he’d gladly be our puto. And he was for each of the remaining days he was here on the island, dutifully adding to the stink and residue on that Nike until he left. Now he’s protecting and likely serving the men of NYC again.

In both of the above cases we scored the straps as souvenirs at the end — in the cop’s case at the end of his stay, as he reused it for each WOD and other strenuous activities he undertook while he was here.

I still have to ride my bike “slowly and gently”, and my husband isn’t even cleared for that yet. He went out and ordered us obscenely expensive electric bikes (maybe even beyond obscene), THEN mentioned it to me and our shared physiatrist and PT. Both were indignant and put the kibosh on him even trying it anytime soon. I did try it . . . and asked if he could return them for the cash. LOL What’s the sense of anything physical if your own muscles aren’t doing the work? That doesn’t get my strap soaked! Well, right now I’m not doing that much, either! LOL

So we soldier on with getting back toward normal for us . . . and we let the bitchboys we pickup do the jockstrap seasoning . . . for now.

I have only test ridden, that cost is killer. I tend to commute rather than ride leisurely so the govenrment-required speed throttle starting and stopping the electric assist constantly at high speed was kind of annoying, but when you're literally competing with automobile traffic for the lane the boost from a full stop has to be nice.

 

[easlgrundle]

Took a minute to decide which kind of *Bike* you were riding

 

[BillyC]

Wonderful writing, BC. I do have one question: how in heaven;s name do you connect with these studs? At the gym? Details, please!!! (I still enjoy thinking about those two ripe.Frenchmen.)

And best wishes for your two recoveries.

Thanks BT. How? By being there and being male — it’s on the bitches to find what they need to fill their burning cunts.

 

[BillyC]

Took a minute to decide which kind of *Bike* you were riding

LOL Both?

 

[BillyC]

I have only test ridden, that cost is killer. I tend to commute rather than ride leisurely so the govenrment-required speed throttle starting and stopping the electric assist constantly at high speed was kind of annoying, but when you're literally competing with automobile traffic for the lane the boost from a full stop has to be nice.

Many people love them, and for commuting I suppose the motorized assist is great. But we ride for the pump, the burn and the rush.

 

[Deleted member 3146]

Reading this makes me want to be a gimp.

 

[BillyC]

So here I am, days away from six months after my wrecked knee got fixed. And . . . I’m mostly back to normal. No tennis yet — if the surgeon has his way, never. But I’ve got several braces, which I’m using for beach running and hiking (uneven surfaces — “twisting” the knee is the killer), and I have a serious tennis date (read — a strong competitor) tomorrow and can’t wait. Of course, my DPT is clutching his pearls; but, hey, this is my life! That’s the only thing left for me to get “back” to.

I will add to this brief and probably last update a few bits of insight I’ve gained.
1. First and foremost, fear is the mind killer. I’ve gotten through a year-long recovery when I was in the Corps, but the worst part wasn’t the pain, it was the fear of never getting “back”. Keep laser focused on the goal.
2. Support is invaluable. Sure, I’m a tough old jarhead; but I’m man enough to know that I couldn’t get through without support from the people who love me and people who care. My husband and I visit wounded service members in the Army hospital — I’ve been doing that wherever I was posted all my adult life. Not so much paying it forward as expressing my appreciation for what they’ve done. There’s nothing more rewarding than giving a boost to someone who needs a lift.

And for those of you who know and remember that my hunky husband took a shoulder injury and was sharing the drudgery of recovery with me, he’s the strong tennis competitor I mentioned. He’s been back on the court for a while now, doing great, obviously.

I may have to change my screen ID to NotAGimpAnymore. LOL Guess I should wait and see how I do on our tennis court tomorrow — I may need to hold onto that excuse!

 

[steve]

So here I am, days away from six months after my wrecked knee got fixed. And . . . I’m mostly back to normal. No tennis yet — if the surgeon has his way, never. But I’ve got several braces, which I’m using for beach running and hiking (uneven surfaces — “twisting” the knee is the killer), and I have a serious tennis date (read — a strong competitor) tomorrow and can’t wait. Of course, my DPT is clutching his pearls; but, hey, this is my life! That’s the only thing left for me to get “back” to.

I will add to this brief and probably last update a few bits of insight I’ve gained.
1. First and foremost, fear is the mind killer. I’ve gotten through a year-long recovery when I was in the Corps, but the worst part wasn’t the pain, it was the fear of never getting “back”. Keep laser focused on the goal.
2. Support is invaluable. Sure, I’m a tough old jarhead; but I’m man enough to know that I couldn’t get through without support from the people who love me and people who care. My husband and I visit wounded service members in the Army hospital — I’ve been doing that wherever I was posted all my adult life. Not so much paying it forward as expressing my appreciation for what they’ve done. There’s nothing more rewarding than giving a boost to someone who needs a lift.

And for those of you who know and remember that my hunky husband took a shoulder injury and was sharing the drudgery of recovery with me, he’s the strong tennis competitor I mentioned. He’s been back on the court for a while now, doing great, obviously.

I may have to change my screen ID to NotAGimpAnymore. LOL Guess I should wait and see how I do on our tennis court tomorrow — I may need to hold onto that excuse!

Sounds like your husband is doing great, I hope you have fun tomorrow and not mess that knee up, I guess if wins he will get a blow job by you ! So that is why you are fighting so bad now to win and to get that boner up hard for him! Good luck BillyC!

 

[BillyC]

Sounds like your husband is doing great, I hope you have fun tomorrow and not mess that knee up, I guess if wins he will get a blow job by you ! So that is why you are fighting so bad now to win and to get that boner up hard for him! Good luck BillyC!

Well the good news is that despite the rain that curtailed our planned tennis match, the indoor “sports” were far more enjoyable.

 

[steve]

Well the good news is that despite the rain that curtailed our planned tennis match, the indoor “sports” were far more enjoyable.

Maybe you are so lucky that it rained on your tennis match BillyC!

 

[BillyC]

Maybe you are so lucky that it rained on your tennis match BillyC!

Worked for us!

 

[steve]

Worked for us!

You the STUD!

 

[Jake]

Today’s update, more than a month later, expands the infirmities — my husband was in a car accident right after my last post to this, so now he’s seeing why I’ve been so surly the past four months since my knee repair.

Two of us on restriction — his neck injury was sustained when an idiot driving like an asshole hit him head on on Diamond Head Road, coming off Kahala. This is literally blocks from our house, The three herniated disks and multiple torn tendons and ligaments in his neck were actually the least of what he might have sustained. In fact, my beautiful, smart, wonderful, hunk of a husband could have been no more were it not for the engineering in his ridiculously self indulgent Lamborghini Urus.

But back to the whining about all the things we can’t do.

I still can’t run . . . which means no tennis or boxing or surfing, either. With his neck, neither can he. He’s about as cranky as I was at the beginning (clue — he’s not capable of being as cranky as an old, wizened jarhead!). He does, however, tell me every day that he’s sorry he wasn’t more sympathetic to me back in late October, November, etc.

The good news is he had virtually no damage to his shoulder that had to be completely reconstructed a few years ago after a bad biking accident. The bad news is I have to go east on fucking him, just like during that recovery — restraint is not my forte. So I’m crankier . . . again.

The worst news is he’s at not go or completely benched status at CrossFit. And that goes to the various and sundry opps we have there when young, strapped, sweat soaked muscleheads offer themselves to us. While the one we had a few times mentioned in the prior installment has gone AWOL, the last two we’ve taken stinking jockstraps from have been me doing and my husband getting a blowjob at most. While spitroasting is fun, for me watching my husband tear up a sweat jockhole before I finish it off is something I can’t wait to get back to.

A couple of details, for those who crave them.

The Swiss visitor was hairy from cheeks (the upper ones) to toes — dark hair over milky skin stretched over a canvas of muscle and sinew that would put to shame any Muscle and Fitness coverboy. His jockstrap was an old, very well used but too clean (he’d worn it four days since washing it before he left) Zimmerli — a new addition to our portfolio and apparently extinct, as the company stopped making them. The three times we did him he wore it throughout and added a total of four loads to it.

The NY Puerto Rican cop was mostly smooth, very dark skinned, and unlike the Swiss who shaved his head, he had thick hair that was great as a handle. He jokingly said, when I asked, that he was “puto Rican”. Fuck yeah he was. And while the conversation started with straps (he complimented me on my utterly filthy McDavid and my husband’s similarly crusty Adidas we were wearing that day, and I complimented him on his weeks used Nike and gave him the “never wash” pitch) it quickly went where men’s conversation in locker rooms particularly can go — him making clear he’d gladly be our puto. And he was for each of the remaining days he was here on the island, dutifully adding to the stink and residue on that Nike until he left. Now he’s protecting and likely serving the men of NYC again.

In both of the above cases we scored the straps as souvenirs at the end — in the cop’s case at the end of his stay, as he reused it for each WOD and other strenuous activities he undertook while he was here.

I still have to ride my bike “slowly and gently”, and my husband isn’t even cleared for that yet. He went out and ordered us obscenely expensive electric bikes (maybe even beyond obscene), THEN mentioned it to me and our shared physiatrist and PT. Both were indignant and put the kibosh on him even trying it anytime soon. I did try it . . . and asked if he could return them for the cash. LOL What’s the sense of anything physical if your own muscles aren’t doing the work? That doesn’t get my strap soaked! Well, right now I’m not doing that much, either! LOL

So we soldier on with getting back toward normal for us . . . and we let the bitchboys we pickup do the jockstrap seasoning . . . for now.

.....just wanted to let-you-know....I LOVE your "chronicals"...and surely hoping both you and your husband are recuperating quite-nicely!...at least, you are living in such a gloriously beautiful paradise as HAWAII...THAT in itself should most-certainly contribute to you and your husbands complete-rapid-recovery!...I bet those guys that you got the jockstraps from are really-"missing" you and your husband...a-LOT!....wishing you-both a VERY-SPEEDY-RECOVERY!...take care and, keep-on-jockstrapping!...any pics of those nice classic, old-school, vintage, well-seasoned and/or "ripe" jockstraps would be VERY-MUCH-APPRECIATED!, ALOHA!.......JAKE

 

[BillyC]

.....just wanted to let-you-know....I LOVE your "chronicals"...and surely hoping both you and your husband are recuperating quite-nicely!...at least, you are living in such a gloriously beautiful paradise as HAWAII...THAT in itself should most-certainly contribute to you and your husbands complete-rapid-recovery!...I bet those guys that you got the jockstraps from are really-"missing" you and your husband...a-LOT!....wishing you-both a VERY-SPEEDY-RECOVERY!...take care and, keep-on-jockstrapping!...any pics of those nice classic, old-school, vintage, well-seasoned and/or "ripe" jockstraps would be VERY-MUCH-APPRECIATED!, ALOHA!.......JAKE

Thanks, Jake, for the kind words. And yes, some of the purloined straps have found their way into the albums I post to. Also, the recoveries have altered but not hindered our pursuits, so we’re manainbf to keep the local bitches . . . from missing us!