It’s been an odd couple of weeks around here.
First off, I was off in the woods over the long MLK weekend. Belle let me out the weekend before that, let me come, and then didn’t put me back in since I was flying on Wednesday. Got home Monday night and I just stayed unlocked. All of a sudden, it had been two weeks with no locked steel between my legs plus no sex.
The universe has decided to do interfere with our lives in a coordinated way. Things are going on both at her work and mine and together they’re a significant bummer. We’re maybe seeing the light at the end of the tunnel now, but we’re still living under this combined overhang and it’s no fun. That, as much as anything, also explains the gap in posts here.
In any event, we did finally fuck Saturday. Bummer or no, my hormones eventually overwhelmed the damper on my libido and, when shown a glimmer of hope from her, sparked into a sudden and raging need to be inside her.
She has a longstanding rule that I’m not allowed to play with the penis when unlocked absent her permission and, in the past, I was usually pretty good at following it, but I pledged that in 2015 I would follow it absolutely. The last few days were a significant challenge (and I was more or less neglecting the Tumblr for obvious reasons) but I found that whenever my hand was inexplicably on the hard penis, the idea of stroking it was really unappealing to me. Our base desires really can be rewired through conditioning. I wanted to feel the sensation of my fist pumping up and down around the hard shaft but even more badly wanted to feel as though I was doing what she expected and that I was keeping my word.
So yeah, when the time came, I was pretty fired up. It’s at those times when just a tiniest tease of my finger against her hot snatch will make me nearly combust and I’ll get a little more insistent with my actions than she likes.
“Remember,” she said, “This is supposed to be about me, not you.”
Years ago, I yearned for her to feel that way and act like it was true. Now it just is. Hearing the words were enough of a reminder to cause me to slow down and follow her body’s signals, not mine. Knowing that this dynamic was so deeply woven into our relationship left me feeling secure and comfortable in a way that’s difficult to explain as part of a hot sex scene. But there it was.
The entire time I was working on her, the penis was throbbing hard. Erections come in various strengths from happily plump to raging boner. When at the high end of the scale, you can feel the hardness. The straining of the erect tissue against the skin containing it. These are the erections of teenagers, but I had one then. I wanted so badly to fuck her. Then she came and immediately I felt the release valve go off. I could feel her heart beating with my fingers buried in her soft, hot wetness and my heart beating in the hardness between my legs and with each thump the penis was deflating just a little. It would shortly be too soft to use.
But I didn’t have time to worry about it. Just a few seconds after she came, she told me I could fuck so I hopped right up and got to work. The penis rapidly regained its strength. Then, even though my last orgasm was just two weeks ago, she said she wanted me to come. I didn’t even consider whether I wanted to or not. Of course, I wanted both. But she told me to so it was inevitable. I held it off as long as I could before coming.
I think it’s the case now that most of the time when she lets me come (which isn’t all that often) it’s those breathless few seconds of inevitability right after the building orgasm is at its peak (when, if edging, you back it off and let it die) and just before the ejacualte squirts forth that are the most enjoyable for me. It’s the very peak of the experience. Often, the intensity of ejaculating is so great that it hurts. As if something internal is getting flexed or pinched in a way its unused to. Far too much intensity. And then the crash. The crash I hardly ever feel in its full glory.
Belle told me after I had to go back into the Steelheart. She reminded me again Sunday morning that I had to after she came but, due to the visitation of her monthly visitor overnight, I was left out of the love tunnel. She did let me jack off but I wasn’t allowed to come this time and I got there so quickly suddenly that I didn’t have much time to enjoy it.
After more than two weeks, I really didn’t want to go back in. I got used to sleeping through the night. Of not dealing with the steel. Of not trying to hide it at the gym.
“Are you fighting me on this?” she asked. No, of course not. But…
“This is just proof how much you need to be locked up,” she said. “You know you need it, too. You’re better when you’re locked up.”
Swoon. Ache. Whimper.
Of course she’s right.