Skip to content

Posts tagged ‘orgasm’

Apr 18

5 Comments

Rising tide

Where were we? Oh, right. On a break.

It’s been one month since I wrote that. One month of not wearing a chastity device and one month of essentially coming when I want. Yes, the deal was that I wasn’t supposed to come without Belle, and it started well, but I failed there. Easy access to the penis and our hiatus in other action along with her distraction by work gave my reptile brain the momentum it needed to make me think for a second or two longer during masturbation. That’s all it takes.

“Wait!”

“What?”

SPURT

I have no idea how many times I came in that month. Not as often as I would have under “normal” circumstances, but perhaps more than I have in the previous six months combined. That is, until about ten days ago. I hadn’t come in a bit and was feeling pretty horny. Instead of acting on that desire, I let it sit and grow. Then Belle told me that as soon as she gets back from the long business trip she’s currently on, I was going back in. Break over. That made me want to try to start the break in the proper state of mind. So I haven’t come now for about a week and a half. Hardly any time at all, really, but I’m feeling it.

A few days ago, after Belle had left, I was alone in the house with time on my hands. A bad combination for those who haven’t come and are trying not to. I ended up on all fours abusing myself with Mr. Stryker and his lesser cousins, locking double cocking ring in place, chain between the nipple clamps swinging. Of course, cock ring or no, I had access to the penis and worked it hard. I put some of the numbing cream on before hand but not so much that I couldn’t feel a thing. In any event, I was well and truly fucked (literally) and super horny (as you can imagine). I didn’t come, but I jerked it raw and wanted more. A lot more. There was a tickle in the back of my brain saying the break was still on. There would be few chances to come. I should take advantage of it.

The thing is, though, while it’s really hard to keep my hands off of it when I’m this turned on, I knew how I’d feel after the orgasm. Belle’s warning me of the end of the break brought me back into line and while a very rudimentary part of my brain wanted the orgasm, everything higher up didn’t. That’s what orgasm denial does to men. It sets up an internal war over the penis and orgasm. Higher brain functions at battle with lower ones and constantly the need to feel one’s hard member in hand. The higher forces had regained the advantage, though. I put the device back on.

I know where the key is, of course. Belle doesn’t have it, I do. I’m purposefully denying myself what I could have because I honestly can’t trust myself. If I take it off, I may give myself an orgasm. An orgasm I don’t want but desperately need. The key is in my bathroom drawer. I saw it last night and I caught myself fingering it before I even thought to touch it. Maybe just a short jerk, I thought. I’d even leave the ring on. It’s not like I’d really be taking it off…right?

So that’s where I am. Aching balls and a tight early morning throbbing between my legs. Pretty much right where I want to be.

Mar 18

3 Comments

It’s a team sport

Friday night I was laying in bed flipping and flopping and trying to ignore the fact that I was working up to another sleepless night due to an overabundance of hormones. It’s been a hard few weeks since Belle and I had so much time apart, but also we’ve been in a period where she’s not been too interested in me or what I’m able to do for her (i.e., little or no sex). It was three o’clock in the morning and I was stewing.

Apparently, my tossing woke her up. When I realized this, I started to talk to her about it. I told her that the game we play is a team sport. It requires two to work. I can’t do it by myself. Also, our relationship is enhanced by the hardware that’s attached to the penis, not defined by it. If she didn’t feel interested in engaging, then we didn’t have to do it. Indeed, “setting and forgetting” has the opposite affect on me. I didn’t feel closer to her, I felt more distant. And while I wasn’t trying to guilt her out or sound angry, I could feel myself moving in that direction.

She told me to take it off. She also told me I could come. I was simultaneously sad and excited. I couldn’t really discuss the prospect of having an orgasm rationally. My hand was even shaking. She unlocked the lock and I disassembled the steel and jerked off next to her. When I came, it was a relief. I could feel the wave of sleep-inducing chemicals wash out of my brain. After wiping the goo from my body, I found sleep.

The next morning, she wanted to fool around. Surprisingly, I had it in me. I offered to let her come by riding the stiff penis, but she opted for the usual fingering. She said she’s been “trained” to want it that way. Funny. We’ve both been trained. After she came, I fucked her to completion. Two orgasms in less than six hours. The decadence.

We’re not on a total break. I’m not allowed to come without her, but I’m not sure if that means there’s any limit to how often I can come as long as she’s there. Even though I’d done it twice in the past day or so, I want it again. I’d be doing it right now except she’s not home. The device will be off for at least two weeks since we leave next Saturday for our Spring vacation.

In any event, things might get a little quiet around here for a while. I’ve got some HNT queued up for Thursday, but other than that, I’m not sure what else I’ll have to talk about.

Feb 29

6 Comments

Stoned

As if three colds weren’t enough. Last week, my daughter came down with some kind of nasty stomach flu which she passed to me 24 hours later. It was bad. I didn’t like it one bit. But, it wasn’t as bad as what came right on it’s heels.

I didn’t go to a doctor, but I’m fairly certain I had a kidney stone. I woke up Friday at about 3:30 AM with a sharp and intense pain in my side just under my ribcage. It got progressively worse until we called a nurse and she said to take some Tylenol and rest comfortably. If you’ve ever had one of these evil little things, you know “resting comfortably” is outside the realm of possibility, though I was able to minimize the pain by laying still and using a hot pad. By daylight, the pain was coming and going and changing positions (moving from my side towards the front of my abdomen). I was able to get up and help get the previously sick girl off to school only to be struck by the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my whole life as soon as she left. I broke out in a cold sweat and felt like I was going to throw up. Absolutely horrid.

Then it went away. Poof. Gone. Only minor and infrequent twinges remain (some of which I was still getting yesterday). The new symptom is occasional and overwhelming urges to pee. Even when I know there’s nothing there, I have the feeling of needing to go. It’s not unlike how the prostrate will sometimes feel when I’ve been denied a long time and I know it’s all plump and ready to go, but way stronger. This, along with the pain, are classic kidney stone symptoms.

The part I haven’t had yet is the actual passing of the stone. I don’t know if it always involves pain during urination, but I’ve had nothing like that. Yet. Time will tell if I get to have the full meal deal. I suppose at some point I should go to a doctor, but from everything I’ve read, they don’t do anything about them most of the time and let them work themselves out naturally. I can do that at home and save the co-pay.

On the non-medical front, Belle and I both felt good enough on Saturday morning for some real sex. I busted out my emergency key at the hight of the barfing because the device was really, really not making me feel any better being on there (and I was about three light years from wanting to do anything with the penis anyway), but life had returned to all corners of my totally free body by Saturday. She not only let me fuck her, she let me come. It wasn’t a great orgasm (as is common after a longish denial) and I came really fast (one minute, tops) and she made me put the device back on as soon as it was over. It wasn’t unit this morning that I didn’t resent the damned thing. That magical cloaking device I was talking about last time was stone cold dead and has only started to flicker into life since I woke up this morning. Starting to get horny again. Apparently, the cloak operates on pure hormones (not antimatter like on Star Trek).

So there you are. Up to speed. Hopefully, the infirmary-like atmosphere around the house is gone for a long time.

Dec 15

10 Comments

Four after ninety-nine

I’ve started this post like three times. When it comes to writing for my blog, my muse is my frustration.

So, yeah, she let me come. Two times in each of the last two weekends. I know I reported here before that she was going to let me do essentially whatever I wanted to do with the penis, but the rubber’s hit the road and she’s told me I can’t come without her being present.

And, honestly, I’m perfectly happy with that. In fact, the other night I was begging her never to let me come without her again. She cautioned me to think about what I was asking for, but I was all rapturous and liked how her hand felt around the very stiff meat and maybe wasn’t thinking too terribly deeply about what I was saying. Regardless, I meant it (and still do).

Therefore, I am not, at the moment, Thumper denied. I am at best Thumper restricted. I can pleasure myself and fiddle around with the penis but orgasm can only happen when I’m with Belle. So far, that’s meant in Belle, though I don’t know for sure if that’s part of the rules I’m working under. I’d like to feel an orgasm of my own doing, but she hasn’t let me.

The orgasms she’s let me have were interesting in that they were all different. The first, after ninety-nine days of denial, really wasn’t all that good. How could it have been? It was more like sneezing after feeling one coming on for a long time but being unable to make it happen. Not so much pleasurable as it was just a release. The next day was number two and it was a little better, but still just OK. Then everything cratered. Belle went to NYC and I lost any and all interest in sex or sexual thoughts. Even this blog curdled for me. I couldn’t think about it. It embarrassed me. So I ignored it. I also sank into a shallow depression that probably wasn’t entirely driven by the sudden change in my brain chemicals but couldn’t have been helped by it. I was pretty miserable.

Then the next weekend came around and my libido stirred like a sleepy cat in a sunbeam. I came twice more and cratered again, but only briefly. At least these two orgasms were pleasurable. By Wednesday, I was feeling horny again (which was quite the rebound). It’s amazing how low I go now after I come. My sex drive doesn’t just drop to zero, it goes into negative numbers. It creates a vacuum.

Yeah, so anyway, this shift in the rules isn’t at all what I thought it’d be. I’m very happy to find I’m not entirely free to do as I please because I don’t ever want to live like that again. I’m also pleased that Belle seems to be getting whatever she wanted out this little experiment. I’m sure she’s missed getting fucked by an apparently normal male and I’m also sure a girl likes her guy to squirt inside her every once in a while. But, if I’m honest, I’m also looking forward to the day we can go back to “normal”. After two weeks, I still can’t get used to this squishy floppy bit of meat between my legs. It’s just not right. (The DCR, BTW, hasn’t been on that much. Belle hasn’t wanted me to wear it.) And while I like the idea of coming, the aftermath turns me off (literally and figuratively). I’m actually kind of afraid of it.

I don’t know. I’ve been so far away from normal for so long now that even this not normal approximation of normal leaves me feeling off kilter. I’m still controlled and there are still rules and I like that, but it’s not the same. I’m not complete without that steel tube. I miss its company and crave its confinement. I want to see my reflection looking up from my crotch, not a pink prick. I’ve thought of locking myself up during the day just to feel it again, but have resisted. I will remain as I am without complaint for as long as Belle wants me to, or course, though I look forward to the day she puts things back they way they should be.

Nov 16

4 Comments

News you can use

Following a recent comment by a faithful reader who was seeming to suggest that the quality of my content was perhaps not as good as should be desired from a blogger of my reputation and obvious skills, I have decided to heed his advice and bring you a few news items you may find humorous/informative/better than my usual drivel.

First up, researchers have discovered a link between those men who have sex with animals and their incidence of penis cancer.

Of the 118 penile cancer patients, 45 percent reported having sex with animals, compared with 32 percent of healthy men, who visited the medical centers for benign conditions, check-ups or cancer prevention. Fifty-nine percent of men who had sex with animals did so for one to five years, while 21 percent continued the behavior, also known as zoophilia, for more than five years. The subjects reported a variety of frequencies for their sex acts, ranging from monthly to daily.

Two things. Penis cancer!? Great. Now I have that to worry about. Also, it’s a good thing that in all my animal sex fantasies, I’m the bottom.

Second up, it is now possible to see what a woman’s orgasm looks like inside her brain. You can even see a video of an orgasm as it develops if you follow the link.

To make the animation, researchers monitored a woman’s brain as she lay in a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) scanner and stimulated herself. The research will help scientists to understand how the brain conducts the symphony of activity that leads to sexual climax in a woman.

So how long until a portable version of this is developed to help men know when she’s faking it he’s doing it right?

Aug 29

13 Comments

The unfortunate incident

I was away from Belle and unlocked for one night last week. Thursday night, to be precise. The night before, I was so jacked up and horny that I slept only a few hours here and there. I kept waking up with the kind of stuffed tube that only feeds upon itself with all kinds of visions and scenarios spinning in my head.

So, as I boarded the aircraft the next morning and flew a few hours to make a presentation in front of a bunch of total strangers,  I was operating on energy reserves. Forced fun following and an overly indulgent dinner of the kind reserved for important life events (graduation, marriage, death) or large corporate expense accounts left me in my mid-priced yet stylish hotel room aching for the bed and numerous pillows.

And I was, truly, exhausted. I neglected to pack any bedclothes so I climbed in between the cool, crisp sheets able to feel their cool crispness along my entire body. Even those areas that typically only feel the inside of a steel tube. Nonetheless, I was tired. Exhausted, remember? I laid back and opened my laptop in order to catch up with Facebook and the world news. My eyelids were leaden and I moved to close the computer and turn out the light.

But I didn’t. Instead, I thought to myself, let’s just see what’s waiting for me in my Tumblr feed. I clicked the link to The Portfolio’s dashboard and saw a stream of bodies materialize. At first, I can’t say it much affected me, but after a few moments and seeing a couple of particularly interesting specimens that nicely complimented my taste, there was a stirring beneath the sheets. My leaden eyelids lightened a bit and the veil of sleep withdrew a bit more. My left hand found its way to the pudgy penis and gently coaxed it into full stiffness.

The more dispassionate parts of my brain saw what was coming. I would likely edge myself for an hour or so (and it was already late) before perhaps allowing a couple slugs of creamy white goo out in a non-orgasmic emission. Then I’d toss and turn and deal with multiple erections and probably punch myself in places most men would wither to consider before finding myself standing bleary-eyed at the check-in counter for the flight home.

While pondering this certain fate, I also happened to notice how the stroking felt. How the fat, heavy PA ring moved within the head of the penis and how that sensation was, in a word, excellent. There are times, most men would agree, when jacking off is perfunctory and not especially great, but there are others when the loop of one’s hand and one’s member and one’s brain is in perfect tune. Where the three elements form a continuous element of pleasure. In that crisp white bed in that moderately-priced yet still stylish hotel room with the over-active air conditioner I felt such a oneness. And I weighed that oneness against my previously considered fate.

There really was no question. At no point did the alternative seem likely. I knew what was going to happen. I was going to come. And I was going to like it. Yes, I knew I’d feel guilty immediately afterward, but I also knew with a certainty how good the orgasm was going to feel. The inevitable build-up, the hovering on the brink, and the explosive fireworks that would run along my spine and over my scalp as the creamy payload spewed forth.

And, as long as I was being bad, I decided to drag it out. To really revel in my disobedience and make it count. As the orgasm would approach, I’d change my grip and make it wait, make it work its way back down. The big heavy ring deliciously tickling the most sensitive part of me from within while my hand teased it from without. I worked that load the best I could. I wanted to be bathed in ejaculate. I wanted to really fucking come. This wasn’t going to be a case of manslaughter. This was going to be first degree murder. Not premeditated, perhaps, but with all the same consequences.

And I came. And there were fireworks and tingling. Every hair stood up on my body. The cream gushed forth all over my stomach and hand. I came like a 17-year-old. It was glorious.

For 6 seconds. Then the stupor washed over me tinged with a froth of guilt. I staggered into the bathroom and wiped the offending paste from my body and fell back into bed. And I slept, knowing I’d tell Belle. Which I did. Two nights ago.

Aug 11

4 Comments

Fleshy bits

“You look funny when your fleshy bits are out.”

That’s what Belle said to me a few days ago following her decision that I’d be out of the device and the unencumbered penis flopped around as I climbed into bed. Her reason for letting me be that way had to do with another camping and hiking trip I’m about to set forth on, though I don’t leave until tomorrow and she let me out Tuesday morning. There was a vagueness about whether or not my August orgasm would coincide with this.

The night before that, she had unexpectedly let me give her an orgasm. About midway through, she told me to get on my back and for a second I thought she was going to do something for me, but instead she threw one leg over my face and pressed her pussy down onto my mouth and eager tongue. I reached up and fiddled with her nipples while she grabbed the headboard and gyrated her hips around and lubricated the entire lower half of my face. The penis was straining in its prison as she moaned and groaned while exploring her new-found control over this particular kind of pleasure. It’s a little more natural for her, perhaps, since she used to usually need to be on top while fucking me in order to get off. In any event, she did achieve her orgasm while I laid there like one of those coin operated kiddy rides you used to see outside grocery stores.

The next day, I was out and distracted by the little meaty bit. I admit to playing with it more than I probably should have, but well within reason. I found I couldn’t very well curate The Portfolio while at work and then expect to be able to get up and walk around without demonstrating its affect on me. With the device in place, it always looks the same regardless of what’s going on inside. In any event, it and I were playing our usual game of chance until last night when she told me she would let me rub one out.

I will say right now it sucked. That was no fault of hers as she was more or less just an observer (she was feeling a little under the weather). She hopes that allowing me to come last night will give me the ability to control myself better so as to provide her with a nice ride on the erection tonight (assuming she’s feeling better). While excited for the event and eager to get going, I’m not sure I was in the proper mindset and may have rushed into it. There is a very palpable differnece between jacking off for the purpose of edging versus doing the same with the idea of coming. There was a point when I felt the orgasm building steam and I backed off in order to prolong my enjoyment (as if I wasn’t going to come) but then said fuck it and plowed forward so that when it finally started, there was a definite lack of fireworks. I did come and felt sleep/dopey/tingly from it, but it was hardly the kind of event I would have expected after being denied for two months, in either quality or quantity. I’m feeling more on edge and ready to come again right now than I was last night, so I hope she’ll give me another shot (literally) before I go. I also hope that if she wants to use the penis herself, that I’ll be able to accomodate her desire.

May 23

7 Comments

Of lizards and pistons and pinchy bits

The answer to the question, “Why hasn’t Thumper posted recently?” isn’t “Because he had an orgasm,” it’s “Because he had two orgasms.”

It all started about ten days ago. Belle told me she was going to let me out for the weekend and I’ve found that once the meat knows its freedom is set at a fixed point in the future, it starts to get irritable. On that Thursday, I was dealing with an odd pinch in the tube and no shifting or pulling would make it go away. Finally, I asked for Belle’s key so I could remove the internal pinchy bits but she decided to just let me out altogether a day earlier than scheduled. And, of course, upon inspection, I found nothing wrong with it. It was just bitching.

That Saturday morning, we had sex. I got her off using Pink, the hard cock being essentially ignored by her. Not a bad plan on her part because it had been two months since the last time it had been of any use and its effectiveness as a pleasure object would likely have been limited. After she came, she let me mount her. I tried my hardest to make the experience count since I was not sure she’d let me have more than one shot this time around. I was doing OK at keeping a good pace and varying the tempo so I could just feel her soft, hot wetness slide along the hungry shaft, but at a point much too soon for me, something snapped. I would describe it as a mutiny in the control room of my brain, but it wasn’t like that. More like a rerouting of control around my brain. The lizard brainstem and lower half of my body essentially told my brain to fuck off and that they were going to handle the action from that point forward. I literally could not stop. My only function and my only focus was being a meat piston. I fucked the shit out of her…for about 28 seconds.

Then I came in a way unlike the more recent events. No tingling, no feeling of being pulled inside out, just grunts and flexing and surging and the need to fill her up. Fill her with the cock and fill her with the seed and make damned sure nothing else happened until that was over. I cannot say it was the most fun orgasm I’ve had, but “fun” is a concept unknown to the lizard brain. It was function. It was like when two dogs start going at it and you have to turn a hose on them to make them stop. The basic need for all living things to pass on their code drove my hips into her and pinned her to the bed with the cock until the transfer was complete and, finally, felt its own sense of animal satisfaction at the effort.

Sunday night, she gave me a handjob. I thought she’d let me come, but all the way up until the final moment I half expected her to pull her hand away so there was a bit of a race going on internally between her stroking and my getting all the ejaculatory mechanisms lined up in time. I grasped the headboard, hands up over my head, as she pulled the orgasm from my body. It was actually quite wonderful and left me feeling dopey and fuzzy sleepy warm. But, she wanted me back in right then, so she rubbed the sticky goo on her hand all over my chest allowing its stench to fill my senses. Then, she handed me the key and sent me off to the harsh white light of the bathroom to reaffix the steel and clean the goobery mess from my chest hair. I did it, reluctantly. My fuzzy sleepy warmth was all washed away by the experience. I came, and I liked it, but I was not allowed to bask.

For the better part of the week after, it was this thing. This annoying, clinging, intrusive alien sitting in my pants. Almost immediately, the internal security bits were biting me again, so she let me take those out, but that didn’t make my mental opposition to being encased any less severe. Just the opposite. None of my usual routines work the same way when the PA fixing and ring aren’t in there. With them, enough space is held open to allow water to be easily flushed though, but without them the stupid meat is easily squished and squashed and blocks the free flow water in and urine out. The end result of all this wasn’t as bad as I probably felt it was, but for days it was like canned meat swinging between my legs. Nothing good about it.

Things started to shift by Thursday. I was to drive a few hours away that day and be apart from Belle for two nights. Suddenly, the idea that I had to have the fixing and ring in place was paramount. Their absence made me feel incomplete rather than inconvenienced. My device was not whole and neither was I. That morning, Belle left me with her key and I dutifully tended to the total securement of the cock with no ill feelings or surreptitious squeezes. She had given me an opportunity to make it right so the idea of taking advantage was furthest from my mind. I put in the ring, threaded the fixing though it and then slid the still-flaccid cock into the tube and felt along with it the sensation of warmth and comfort and security. It was like putting on my favorite sweatshirt, not an implement of bondage and sexual frustration. I was where I was supposed to be and it felt right.

I was back home by Saturday and she let me give her an orgasm. I had the palpable feeling of being a human sex toy as it was all about her and not at all about me. She didn’t care that I would be left horny and caged and unable to sleep. That was my place. I should get used to it. I was cleaving to her as the orgasm pulsed from between her legs and I grunted along with her moans. I was coming, too, but though her pleasure. As expected, I slept fitfully.

Now, a week in to a lock-up of undetermined length, the meat and its cage have settled back into their symbiotic relationship. It’s a part of me again. I look in the mirror and I see it and it looks like me. Its contents don’t. That thing looks like the other. The intruder. But it’s OK because the lock is on and it can’t get out.

Funny how that works.

Mar 1

3 Comments

Gone virtual

“This is an experiment,” Belle said.

“You’re experimenting on me?”

“Well, you said you didn’t need the device anymore to remain chaste. Let’s see how that works for a while.”

This exchange took place about 50 hours after she let me out of the device, 36 hours after she fucked me, and about 8 hours after I assumed I was going back in.

Let’s rewind. She let me out on Saturday but decided to wait until Sunday morning to fuck me. At the prospect of having access to the meat again, I asked if I’d be allowed to play with it.

“No,” she said, “It’s coming out for my pleasure, not yours.” Fair enough. For however long I was to be free, I was not to pleasure myself with the cock.

Sunday morning, she fucked me. Climbed on top and rode me until she came. I was extraordinarily happy not to come before her, but that was due more to her wanting the cock as badly as she did than my ability to control my orgasm. I was about 70% of the way there and rising rapidly when she quickly came. Had she taken as long as she usually does, I would have been dead meat.

For a moment, I though she’d take the “mine, not yours” thing all the way to it’s logical conclusion, but she let me flip her over and fuck until I came. That took about two minutes and twelve seconds, then I spewed and spewed. It got all over the sheets, my leg, and (obviously) way up inside her. That stuff is nasty. Especially right after the event that causes it to emerge. Anyway…

As I’ve said lots of times before, one orgasm doesn’t do anything to satisfy my desires for more longer than a few hours. Then, it’s as if it never happened. By Sunday afternoon, I was right back in the hunt. I took a long hot bath and found myself on Kristen’s Archive which, for a man in my position, was perhaps not the smartest move I could make. Then again, while I had, at times, a very hard and very available erection right there, I did not stroke it. Not once.

So, that essentially leads up to the conversation that opened this post. I am, unsurprisingly, pretty worked up and my body is telling me, since everything is out there and flopping around, that I need to do something. Either take matters into my own hand or convince Belle to give me access or whatever. But no. She’s conducting an experiment. I’m now in virtual chastity. No device and no touching.

This kind of chastity has a different edge to it. In the device, my control is abdicated. The cock becomes a nonissue because it’s as if it doesn’t exist. Now, it does. And I have to touch it. It gets soapy and wet when I shower, it gets squished and squashed in my pants, and I have to handle it every time I take a leak. Plus, because I’m wearing the thick PA ring, it’s got heft and density all its own. There’s never a time I’m not aware of the unencumbered cock between my legs. Now, my chastity comes as a result of both her control and mine.

Of course, I’m not saying it’s better or worse. Just different. Hot in another way. I’m kinking on the constant temptation kept in check solely through my devotion to her control over my body, but I also really get off on the inescapable steel. About a week from now, Belle goes away on another business trip. I can’t imagine she’ll leave me to my own recognizance while she’s gone. Until then, at least, I’ll have to continue to resist temptation.

Feb 11

1 Comment

Hers

Earlier in the week, Belle let me out for a fuck. Not just that, but she let me come, too. It was one of those maintenance fucks in that she didn’t want anything out of it except to let me pop one inside her. Apparently, she felt I needed it. I didn’t even get to play with her tits. I tried to stretch it out and enjoy the sensation, but it’s impossible for me now. I used to pride myself for being able to hold off until after she came, but I’m lucky to fuck for more than a minute or two now before losing it.

The next day, she asked me how I was doing in a way that we both know means how is Thumper doing. As in, how is her submissive, orgasm controlled husband? In the past, I would have had either mixed emotions or been downright upset from having an orgasm, so she’s careful to check in with me to see how I’m doing. I appreciate that, but I feel I’ve moved past those fits of pique. I was thrilled to come, more than thrilled to be allowed to fuck her. Somewhat disappointed that she didn’t want to come because I so much enjoy making her do it, but I leapt at the chance to get the dick wet.

Just one orgasm is never enough to blow all the steam off after a month or so of denial, so I was still very interested in action, even more so since the cock was free and flopping around. She hasn’t let me come again, but for several nights, she would grasp and stroke the cock, putting me in quite the state, before she closed her eyes to sleep, hand still wrapped around her hard, quivering cock. It’d slowly, slowly deflate as she drifted off. I was wide awake, of course, and once picked up my phone to look at porn. Its flaccid state was replaced with rock hardness again, still in her hand, though she was asleep. I’m allowed to look at porn, but felt nervous still since its effect on me was very evident. Had she woke up just a little, she’d have know what I was doing. The thought of her “catching” me hard and horny left me feeling embarrassed, though I can’t say why.

Before I left home for one night (another reason she let me out since I was flying), she let me get naked and I came on to her as forcefully as I could. She ignored the cock totally as my hands and mouth moved all over her. It ached it was so hard. I wanted inside her again. I wanted to come again. She wanted to come, too, and she let me give her an orgasm, but with my hands. Then she rolled over and slept, never having even acknowledged the hard cock and my obvious desire to use it.

My trip was overnight and in a hotel, but I shared the room, so there was no monkey business. Now I’m back and still horny and I can’t wait to see her. I can’t wait to get back in bed with her, to feel her body next to mine, to press the cock – hard as it will be – into her drowsy form, even if she basically ignores it again. As I said above and have said before, I am totally comfortable with her controlling the cock and my orgasm and she is doing it perfectly right now. She can lock it up, stroke it, let it come, leave it alone, smack it around, slather it with Icy Hot, or let me fuck her with it. It is hers. What it does and feels is hers. What I do with it is up to her. Everything is hers.

« Older Entries
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 215 other followers