Since coming home, I’ve been hopelessly, desperately horny. It’s not the slow burn kind of horny, either, but the insistent resonating kind that sits up in my chest and makes my arms feel light. I’m pretty much all over Belle whenever I have a chance and I find myself following her around from room to room. I fall asleep clutching her and whenever I stir at night it’s to find her body next to mine and curl into it again. All this latent sexual static hanging around is like shoveling coal into my subbie furnace. I am so feeling it.
In short, fucking awesome.
I was home alone for most of yesterday. Originally, I wasn’t sure which day I’d get back from my trip so I scheduled it off just in case. In any event, hours of alone time would usually mean at least one jack-off session back when such things were among my options. Had I been unlocked, I’m quite sure I would have been edging myself non-stop. However, I am locked and therefore any such behavior is impossible. But still. Damn. I’m horny.
I decided to make due with what I had available.
A couple of years ago, I bought some pants or something from Old Navy that had two clippy things connected by a shoelace. I have no idea what they were supposed to do, but I have three of them (for a total of six clips). I should post a picture of the things. They don’t fit together like a clothespin (where one side presses against the other). Instead, their ends interlock and form a circle when closed. Plus, their springs are more than a little tight. The end result is an absolutely wicked bite that’s far more intense than any device I’ve bought designed for nipple torture.
So yeah, I put them on. My nipple meat twisted between the pinchers and the pain was like twin lasers of pleasure shooting into my brain. A benefit of their clampiness and the way their ends fit together is that they grip incredibly well. I was able to pull them hard – much harder than even the Japanese butterfly clamps – before they’d finally come free. Of course, it’s no secret that the more stimulated one is, the more pain they’re able to tolerate. In the case of yesterday, I simply could not find my limit. These things are friggin’ medieval and pulling on the twisted pink meat caused a lot of pain, but all I could do was hurt myself more. There are few times I’ve felt like that.
It wasn’t enough, though. I needed something more.
Belle has long ago given me permission to milk myself as needed, so solo anal play is a permanent option for me. Thing is, even though I like taking it up the ass as well as the next boy, it’s not a pleasure in which I often partake. Not only is it a bit of a hassle (props, lube, clean-up, etc.), but I find that I have to be in a very particular frame of mind to kick it off. Yesterday, I was in that frame of mind. Fuck, I would have done anything.
I busted out a moderately-sized latex suction cup dildo I bought a few years back. It’s bigger than most men, but not ridiculously so. I find it fairly easy to accommodate while still providing a satisfying sensation. I wasn’t interested in demonstrating any amazing feats; I just wanted to get fucked.
I really don’t understand guys who won’t at least try taking it up the ass. Men are designed to experience intense pleasure that way though the conveniently-placed prostate. Of course, it’s all mental. Worries about cleanliness, whether or not it makes you gay, etc. Bullshit. It can be pure awesome when done right. I did it right.
I’m not sure if the denial makes the prostate more sensitive to stimulation, but there are times when it felt like a fucking supernova was up inside my colon. Being locked allows me to experience levels of stimulation I’ve never been able to before. I would have shot my load way before feeling what I get to feel now. It gets to the point where the penetration and the friction over the radiating prostate consumes everything and I simultaneously want it to go on forever but stop immediately before my head explodes.
Of course, the milking was successful. Like never before, actually. Early on, as the muscles in the region contracted involuntarily, I squeezed out several shots of clear precum. Then, milky white juices started to leak from the tube. Not in a big shot or a steady stream, but slowly and in little dribbles. Even hours later, I was finding a slick mess at the end of the tube. I have no idea how much came out, but it was substantial.
But even then, I wanted more. When Belle came home, I asked her to abuse my nipples when we went to bed. They were still sore from the earlier torture when she placed the chrome clothespins on them and then left them there. Again, it was nothing but liquid pleasure. She left them on for maybe ten minutes, during which time little moans and groans escaped from my throat and my ass squirmed into the bed. She wouldn’t let me mess with her, though, so I went to bed cruising though a mass of abject desire.
This morning, my nipples feel plump and tender, the large muscles in my thighs ache, and I can still feel the assault on my sphincter. Even so, I know for a fact I’d be doing it all over again today if I had the chance.