I’m not going to say I feel 100% normal in the wake of whatever the fuck made me sick a couple weeks ago, but I’m getting there. Went for a run this morning before it got too hot and, while I didn’t make the full distance, I was able to manage 3.5 miles at a reasonable pace before wussing out. Also, there’s this…
Which is not to say I’d be any more fun now than I was when Drew was here last week, but I can tell things are returning to normal. The percentage of images on Tumblr featuring men that make me withdraw like a snail with a poked eye stalk are down to about 23% (even when I’m my most biflexipanful, it never goes much below 13% — there’s some crazy shit on the Tumblr).
I kinda made a joke about it, but not being into all the genders for that little while was unsettling. I felt like one of my senses had been lost. Like a superhero without my superpower. I like being bisexual and love the equal opportunity nature of my nature and to feel half of it go dark like that wasn’t much fun. But stuff like this is starting to do it for me again, so the kryptonite or whatever is apparently off my neck now.
Belle and I had some nice sex this weekend, though she wouldn’t let me out for it yesterday. That was as she intended — frustrating. She teased me by stroking my balls and slapping them around a little while I sucked and licked her nipples. The cage was biting hard as she came under my fingers and knowing I wasn’t going to feel that hot wetness around me burned.
Today, she let me out and played with the free penis a little which was enough to make me melt with pleasure. Only when you can’t feel your penis will you truly appreciate how wonderful it can make you feel when touched by another hand. Being inside her felt like pure liquid pleasure. I’m so focused on her pussy now. Once that device comes off, it’s all I can do to keep my hips from homing in on hers.
I hoped like fuck, as she was approaching her orgasm, that she’d let me come. I so wanted it. Wholly and completely. When I got inside her, I slowed when I felt it coming since she hadn’t told me to do otherwise but the second time, I blurted it out.
“I want to come so bad.”
Without a second’s pause, “No.”
That led to a momentary burst of intensity in my fucking, but I also immediately started to feel guilty that I said it. So much so that the penis started to lose its internal pressurization. It still felt amazing, but my blatant disregard for the rules of the dynamic ruined my vibe. I stopped of my own volition and rolled off of her.
“There was a time,” she said, “when you’d say that and I’d feel a pang of guilt and it would leave me conflicted. But not anymore. Not at all. When I let you come, it’s because I want you to. When I don’t, it’s because I don’t want you to.”
And that, my friends, is what true denial is like. I wanted to come. Still do. But she wasn’t having any of it. I come when she wants, not when I want. Thanks to upcoming time apart, it’s highly unlikely I’ll have another chance to do it for three more weeks. And that’s just the way it is.
After she left the room, I put the Steelheart back on. I hadn’t been out for even an hour and spending some time without it would have been nice, but I felt as though I didn’t really deserve the free time and also felt a free penis would be too much of a distraction. When she felt the hard tube in my pants, she approved, called me a good boy, and I kissed her. Madly and deeply.