Belle and I got to go out to breakfast by ourselves this morning. The kids were both still sleeping like the dead/teenage years so off we went with the New York Times to a little French place in Uptown.
Prior to that, we had been laying in bed wrapped around one another and being groggy and wonderfully Saturdayish. I was pretty hard up and she just started her period so my prospects weren’t very good, but did I mention how hard up I was? Normally, the Steelheart would have been biting hard, but I’ve been wearing it with its original 45mm ring which is too big to bite (though, on the downside, when also worn with my 4ga PA ring, it’s not unlike a cowbell hung around my balls). My pathetic whimpering caused her to asked what I wanted.
Ooo, what I wanted. I wanted to jack off. I really did. I wanted to get the Steelheart off and jack off in front of her until I almost came, then stop letting the ejaculate splurt weakly out of the hard penis in a ruined orgasm. That’s what I wanted. But I felt bad saying it.
“I want to jack off.”
Ugh. OK, I guess I can live with feeling bad.
“There’s no chance that’s going to happen.”
More snuggling, more attempted hard-on, more smelling her hair.
“I could jack you off,” I said helpfully. Sure, she was on her period, but I knew my way around that snatch and could get plenty done regardless.
“You’ll have go close the door.” So, you know what happened next. God, I love feeling her come. I love her hard nipples in my mouth and my finger on her clit and my face in her neck when it’s all over and she’s basking. And, as usual, as soon as it was over, I felt the penis start to lose its pressurization. Stupid fucking penis. Then she left me to stew.
So yeah, anyway, off to breakfast. When the food came, she asked me about my impending trip with Drew to visit Steelwerks in Montreal. She was asking about the hotel and looked it up on her phone to see where it was. We talked about what would happen there and then segued into chitchat about another dominant male who reached out to me via Facebook and what I thought of that. You know, what every other married couple talks about over breakfast. If I started to clam up, she prodded me to say more making sure I was aware she was perfectly comfortable talking about such things (yes, that’s for you, reader who assumes I’m still dragging Belle by her hair into my depravity).
The travel security has been figured out. I’ll go to the airport unlocked and take the Steelheart through the TSA checkpoint and put it on as soon as I’m on the other side. It’ll stay on until we’re either on our way to the airport again or we’re there and heading toward security. While visiting Steelwerks, I’m going to get measured for a device though we have no immediate plans to get one. Figure I might as well not waste the opportunity. The trip there is really for Drew and Axel and their needs, not me and Belle.
Even though it’ll be fascinating seeing the Steelwerks production facility and getting a behind the scenes view of where easily the most beautifully handcrafted chastity devices are made, I’m still struggling with my issues of separation anxiety. I know the trip will be fun and interesting, but I get anxious thinking about it and feel the need to cleave to her all the harder. I was feeling it last time I left her for a week, but she let me come the morning I was leaving and, like magic, 84% of the anxiety fell away. It’s clearly hormonal. I can rationalize it all I want but I can’t stop feeling it. Can’t stop the fluttery insecurity that builds in my chest when I think of being away from her. I think a big part of my sleeping issues lately have been because of this (not just the trip with Drew, but another week-long venture later in the month).
I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t want to come. Not really at all. Yes, of course, I have a huge urge to orgasm, but that’s not the same thing. Belle thinks I should see someone. Not sure what I’d say. “Yeah, my wife controls my orgasm and hardly ever lets me have them so I’m unnaturally attached to her…that’s OK, right?”
Pfft. It’ll be fine. I’ll get over it.