One week down, 50-100 to go

“Can I come?” I asked, feeling the desire to do so build with each thrust of my hips.

“No, of course not,” she said with a laugh.

That was yesterday, just a week into the period of indeterminate length (at least a year but possibly two) in which I won’t have any orgasms. It’s as close as one can get, I guess, to living without them at all and that’s fine by me. I did want to come and would have if she had said I could, but she’s not going to let me. Not one more time this year. Not on purpose.

The last time I came prior to the weekend of January 5th was way back around July 4th. The date she had picked out for me to come again was January 6, but it actually happened accidentally the day before. She let me out that Friday from the Looker 02 I had been in nearly continuously for about six weeks. She may have been more turned on by the idea of fucking me than the other way around and on that Saturday, she climbed up on me, all naked, hot, and wet. It had been so long and we were so close to D-day that six of the seven seals I try and keep up in those situations were hanging loosely on their hinges. It was, for both of us, a very fine fuck. I was in OK shape until I felt her start to come and I found myself completely unable to hold back. Belle just felt so fucking good bouncing up and down on the penis. Turns out, I was a dead man from the moment she got up there.

The orgasm I had was unlike any I can recall having before. The typical male orgasm, if you graph it, has a period of build-up followed by a relatively short “oh my Jesus, here I come” segment followed by the back-of-the-head-eye-rolling spurting bit and finishing with the crash and sleepy-time moment of zen. This one, though, had all the grace and elegance of a tactical nuclear device. One second, I wasn’t coming, the next I was. And it was so intense and overwhelming that it pegged every sensor in my body. I tesned up solid and couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t as much distinct spurts of ejaculate as what felt like a jet of goo painting the walls of her snatch. Then, as soon as that was over, I could feel – distinctly – each and every one of the nerve endings on the penis head firing little individual needles into my cerebral cortex over and over again. I had to ask Belle to stop moving as it was all too much for me to bear.

So yeah, I came. Explosively. If I only get a handful more in my entire life like that, I’ll count myself a lucky man. But, it wasn’t the day, so she made me do it all over again the next morning. This time would be different. I’d be on top and, according to a previously negotiated agreement, if she hadn’t come before me, I would have to make her come by eating her out. Honestly, she wasn’t even trying to come before me. I was up there doing my best and all she was doing was letting me. As I got closer, a little voice in my head reminded me that no matter how hot I thought it was at that moment, I really wasn’t going to like the clean-up and that was sufficient to hold me back a bit, but the inevitable inevitably happened and I shot a healthy load deep inside her.

She gave me a few moments to bask in which I started to feel the revulsion of what was about to happen. I rolled to her side and started to finger her, hoping to get her into that and avoid my end of the bargain, but no dice. Actually, that made things a bit worse since I could feel how slimy and loose I had made her. Accepting my fate, I got to work, though I couldn’t allow myself to open my eyes and concentrated all my attention on her clit. Sensing this, she brought her hips up making me slip down and allowing my tongue to slurp in a gob of my revolting seed. God, the smell of it. Finally, she came and I was out of there in a flash. My own ejaculate was all over my nose, cheeks, and lips and ran down my chin.

And that was that. Last one of the year. I’m still not sure how she’s going to pick the date in 2014 on which I’ll be made to come again, but obviously, there’s no rush. We have all of 2013 to get through yet.

9 thoughts on “One week down, 50-100 to go

  1. Please ignore me and excuse me (and feel free to delete the comment) if what I’m about to ask about is too personal and/or invasive for you or Belle.

    My partner and I have played chastity/tease/denial games — nothing serious, but fun all the same. After he’s permitted to orgasm after a significant period of time of no ‘O’ (significant for us), I’ve noticed I have different feelings about it on different occasions — from almost feeling mad at him (resentful and jealous? I have lots of difficulty with my orgasms) to feeling so freaking happy that I was able to give him the “gift” of an orgasm. Sometimes it makes me want to pull away, and sometimes it makes me feel closer.

    I’m wondering, (if you’re/she’s comfortable sharing,) what does Belle feel after you’re allowed to orgasm? What is she thinking? Is she happy for you? Happy for herself? Indifferent?

    Just curious.

    1. It’s never an indifferent feeling. I’m happy for him in the moment, happy for me because of how this just “works” for us. Then I want him back to his state of denial in rapid fashion because I like best how he is that way.

  2. That was awesome! My Wife/Kh couldn’t go that long without me in her. Why do you so dislike cleaning her up after depositing your seed?

  3. I’m really envious of your once-in-a-lifetime orgasm. Mine, the past weekend, after nine months of denial, certainly wasn’t the best ever. However CH has graciously offered (and I WILL accept) another chance before we get back into anything long term, which likely won’t be anywhere as long as this round was.

    1. They’re not always like that after a long time. They seem like they should be. That you’ve waited all this time and then BAM. But I’ve also had some that were not great. Even painful. I think the planets were just in the right alignment.

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