Tag: chastity devices

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Kidless morning

We’re kidless for the next six days. The boy went to camp last weekend for two weeks and the girl went today for a week. Of course, we will miss them. But still. No kids. A week. Imagine.

Personally, I expect to be naked a lot more than usual. This isn’t a sexual thing. It’s just how I prefer being. I’ve been naked most of the day (and am now) and the recent spat of nice weather has left the windows open and the gentle breeze rustling through my exposed body hair. There are few things better than that feeling (and it’s only improved upon by the combination of sunlight heating the skin at the same time).

Belle got back from dropping the girl off and we sat in bed, her reading the Times and me on my computer (having already pawed through the paper earlier). Her, fully clothed, me buck naked (except for the steel). We took a nap. Well, Belle took a nap. I tried to take a nap but couldn’t fall fully asleep. I let her sleep while I poked around on my phone.

Once awake, we laid there and snuggled and kissed and discussed the Jail Bird I’ve had on since yesterday. It’ll be going back to MM next week for the locking screw modification and I’m wearing it for a few days to make sure the fit and finish is all good. I have to say, even with the bulky lock in place, this device is loads better than the last one I wore. I’ll have lots more to say on this, of course, but the addition of the double A-ring has made it a much more comfortable device. The ring looks to be pretty much exactly the same size as the Steelheart’s, though it’s slightly ovoid and, with the double rings, much wider. Since the rings are 1/4″ wide, I had MM make the new cage a 1/4″ shorter than the last. Also, though I didn’t ask for this, MM put the locking post up on the ring so the top of the cage lines up with the top of the ring. (Lots more on the alignment of the cage and ring of a stock Jail Bird here.) Short story, I’m really digging the new JB and could imagine doing serious time in it. The old one, I could barely wear overnight.

Belle, though, doesn’t like the looks of it as much as she does the Steelheart. They are of two different aesthetics, that’s for sure. Belle said it was the difference between Apple and Dell, though I don’t think that’s entirely fair. The JB still has the Masterlock on it which, to my eye, ruins the lines of the thing. The bulky black square of the lock sticking off to once side does make it appear much more utilitarian and less sleek than the Steelheart. That’ll all be fixed soon enough, though.

Anyway, laying there, appraising my steel, kissing, etc. In another time, I’d be annoying and all over her trying to get into her pants. Even now, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to, but I have been consciously trying to find satisfaction in how my frustration and desire resonates in me. Yes, I did want her. Badly. Her mouth tasted heavenly and the feeling of her soft, full lips on mine was intoxicating. Literally made me light-headed. But I wasn’t trying to be pushy. I wasn’t trying to make anything more than what was happening happen. I was enjoying my nakedness and her warmth and the time we were having.

“OK, fine,” she said, “You can give me an orgasm but then I have things to do.”

I was a little hurt. Her words and movement suggested I was being annoying. As if she was finally relenting so she could leave and be productive. I tried to tell her that wasn’t my intention, but she didn’t seem to believe me. I would have debated the point further, but by this time her pants were off and other things were jockeying for my attention. I remember thinking I may as well indulge if she was going to lay out the goodies.

I sucked and fingered her breasts and felt her hips gyrate as my caged manhood pressed into her. As I put my fingers into her hot wetness, I started to kiss her. I made a special point to make this more romantic. More like love making rather than just sex. I wanted her to know how much I loved her and appreciated the access she was giving me.

Eventually, as her snatch became more and more lubricated and her hips more and more animated, she pulled her mouth away and put her head back, visibly retreating into the pleasure I was giving her. This is my signal to stop and just get her the fuck off. I moved my face back to her breasts and concentrated on her movements and reactions to what I was doing. Finally, she pressed my hand down hard onto her pussy with hers and brought her other arm around my neck and squeezed. The Jail Bird was bursting with caged meat as I felt the pale echo of her orgasm washed over her.

After, as she was slowly uncoiling in afterglow, the knot of passion was still high in me. I forced it into neutral so as not to ruin her moment. Then, as she basked, I palpably felt the knot release in me. I hadn’t come. Of course I hadn’t. But somehow, my body responded to her afterglow. The frantic desire I held within fell back. Then again. Then I, too, was glowing. A kind of post-orgasmic warmth without the orgasm.

I thanked her for her orgasm. She said I was welcome. Then I held her, sleepily, until she decided that was enough. Then I wrote this.

I’ve included a sneak-peek of the new Jail Bird after the jump for those interested in such things.

Continue reading “Kidless morning”

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Leakage

One of the nice things about where I sit at my job is that I’m in an office with my screen facing away from the door. That’s convenient since I will sometimes tend the porn farm while on the clock. I don’t feel especially guilty about that since the clock is mine.

So yesterday, I was filling a few minutes before I needed to leave for a client meeting with a little Tumblr trolling and, I admit, got pretty worked up. It’s been about three weeks since Belle let me come, so no surprise there. I finished queuing up the smut, gathered my things, and walked out of the office (confident that the confines of the Steelheart made the still-stiff penis no more visible than usual). On my way out, I stopped off at the men’s room for a leak.

There’s a specific way this works when one’s penis is in a steel tube. On the way in, I grabbed a bit of paper towel to absorb excess liquid I’d shake out when finished. As the end of the stream approached, a different sensation took its place. Something akin to the feeling of needing to pee, but without the pressure of a bladder full of urine behind it. Very similar to what I feel when milking myself. It was the feeling of an engorged prostrate needing some relief.

Once the peeing was done, I bore down and flexed the internal muscles used for ejaculating. They’re a bit out of shape, but about three moderate slugs of milky goodness oozed down the penis and slowly, like ketchup leaving a bottle, dripped out of the tube. I held the towel to the opening and shook it, catching more of the silky substance.

Upon exiting my vehicle at my client’s office, I felt the distinct and tell-take cold trickle of more ejaculate on my left thigh. As I walked up to her office, I felt more of the stuff. I tried to make a few furtive glances down to see if the goo was soaking through my pants but didn’t see anything. We had our meeting. It was uneventful except that I kept thinking about the stuff on my leg.

Once it was over, I stopped in again at the men’s room on the way out. My pants showed nothing, but once I released the device from my underwear, I was hit by the pungent smell of male ejaculate. My balls were slimy with the stuff. Still have no idea how it dripped down my leg. I cleaned up the best I could, pulling on the tube and craving the ability to well and truly empty its contents, and then left.

The funny thing about this is that, yes, it was annoying and potentially embarrassing, but it’s also somehow exhilarating and fun. No, I would really rather not have my female client see a stream of semen soaking though the leg of my jeans, but being put into the position where it might happen was, I admit, kind of exciting. It’s not entirely unlike those times when the tube of the device is visible between my legs. I’m actually totally over that as a source of angst and take little action to disguise it. Am I unfairly pulling people into my kink whether they like it or not? Or am I just being who I am and letting them process what they glimpse in whatever way they like?

Hard to say.

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Mailbag

Matt Cook hasn’t had an orgasm in seven months, and he hopes never to intentionally have one again.

Now that’s an opening line. Certainly one that will grab my attention. It comes (ahem) from an article found by the inimitable Tom Allen in which the practice of Karezza is described. Kareeza, also know as “coitus reservatus”, is described by Wikipedia as “a form of sexual intercourse in which the penetrative partner does not attempt to ejaculate within the receptive partner, but instead attempts to remain at the plateau phase of intercourse for as long as possible avoiding the seminal emission.”

The article on Matt Cook wasn’t the first time I’d heard of Karezza, though. I received the following from reader Athena an embarrassingly long time ago:

I would be very appreciative to read a mans view, in particular your view regarding “Coitus Reservatus” or aka Karezza. I’m requesting this because you’re very gifted at expressing yourself in a manner that is easily understandable for your Female readers.

I want to approach the topic with my boyfriend, as I’ve been researching the practice lately. But finding contemporary and relative articles has been a challenge.

Would you agree that Karezza can be, for some the next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship?

I’m not sure I’d compare Karezza to enforced male chastity for a couple of reasons. First, chastity is, as we practice it, more than incidentally about power exchange. It’s a form of BDSM. Karezza, as I understand it, has no element of power exchange whatsoever. The man willingly controls his orgasm to promote the “deepest human affection.” Secondly, it sounds is if there is regular penetration by the man (and some kind of preternatural ability to avoid orgasm on his part). In my experience, the penis rarely gets wet, especially for recreational fucking without possibility of orgasm (alas). Of course, the end product of both is similar. The girl comes and the guy doesn’t. The resulting feelings and attitude of the man are likely very similar, but the getting there is all different.

But that doesn’t mean I disagree with you that it (or some form of it) could be a “next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship” for some. Honestly, I’ve felt for a while now that I was doing this chastity thing all wrong. I want to be denied. I do not want to come. Oh, I do, from time to time, get the urge and feel the need and she does let me, but immediately afterward I invariably wish I hadn’t. Even as I’m building toward the orgasm, in the back of my head I’m hoping she won’t let me. In all the hawt chastity porn, the man is desperate for orgasm all the time and his evil wife is constantly dangling the possibility out there but rarely letting him have it. That’s not me. I want to be denied and denied and denied. I’ve felt this way for a long time and, I recall, when I first said on this blog that I didn’t like having an orgasm as much as not having one, some readers suggested I was Doing It Wrong. Perhaps my denial has led me to a place not unlike where practitioners of coitus reservatus find themselves. Like Matt, I’d be happy if Belle told me I would never intentionally come again.

So yeah, the idea of coitus reservatus does appeal to me, but the lack of any kind of domination or submission doesn’t. I am where Matt Cook is, mostly. But I still want the D/s, bondage, and masochism. I’m a kinky bastard, after all.

Anonymous said:

After few months with playing with CB-6000 and some doubts, my wife came to conclusion, that she like benefits of using chastity device (short term, not permanent), but not the device itself. Reason – tube-like shape and imagination of everything inside swollen, sweaty, and without much ventilation, works for her rather as a turn off. We looked for some cage-like devices, but I still don’t get it – how to take it off with full erection, while most of them (all?) has closed, one-piece rings? I know the ordinary method (one potato, two potato, weenie to get in, and backwards to take it off), but HOW, when my precious member, when full erected, is pointing straight at my face, when I look at him? is it even possible to take off the ring with an erection?

If the ring is fitted correctly, you can’t get it off when you’re hard. Impossible. But, (again) if it’s fitted correctly, you probably don’t really need to. At least that’s my experience. The A-ring of the Steelheart, when left on, is like an almost but not quite too tight cockring. It has the benefit of making the penis’ erection a tad larger and it gives me a bit more staying power (plus, it’s kinda uncomfortable which pushes my masochism buttons). I’m not sure that a device without the integrated lock would work as well, though. My Jail Bird has a post sticking out for the lock to engage the cage and, while we’ve never tried it, it’s likely that the post would poke Belle.

My advice: Figure out a way to get the ring off before you’re too hard and/or make a fun little game of defeating the erection so the ring can come off (bag of ice water on the cock, for instance).

Beth said:

I’ve never commented but I’ve enjoyed reading your blog immensely for the last year or two. I was hoping I could get a piece of advice. I’m a lady in a 5+ year relationship with a handsome gentleman- I’d say he’s a switch/sub and I’m a sub/switch. We’ve been doing light BDSM play for 2-3 years now but in a couple of weeks we’ve decided to try a 24 hour power exchange since it’ll be the first time we’ll see each other in 3 months (!). I’ll be domming but as we’ve never done anything like this for more than an hour or 2 I figured I’d ask if you had any particular “care and keeping” advice.

From our earlier play I know some of the standard considerations (plenty of conversations ahead of time, sit down in an uncharged situation before to revisit soft/hard limits, yellow/red safeword system, have quick access necessary safety equipment (trauma shears for rope play, etc), plenty of downtime afterward to process and recharge and snuggle) but a scenario of this length is new territory for both of us and I imagine there are things I haven’t thought of. Should I try to break scene every few hours to check in or is that too disruptive to the “subspace”? We’re both very much looking forward to this and I just want to make sure it goes as smoothly as is reasonable to expect.

Beth, to me it sounds like you’re doing everything right. All that communication up front is so critical and it sounds like you’ve done it in spades. With regard to breaking the scene, if I were in his position and had the requisite safewords, etc., I wouldn’t want you too. The more time spent deeply in the subspace, the better.

Your handsome gentleman is lucky to have such a thoughtful and considerate top.

John said:

Recently got in to chastity with my partner. Actually, he complained about my spanking the monkey too much and sort of took matters into his own hands. I am currently locked in a Bon4. Hoping for a jailbird or steel heart soon. I had reservations at first, but have since found it fucking awesome to hold back. The longest time so far is 5 days. He teases me mercilessly while i am locked up. We had to do some experimentation with different ring sizes, lubes, underware, etc., but thanks to the advise on your blog, things have improved significantly. Just wanted to say thanks for the awesome blog, and keep up the good work.

Have I mentioned how hot I find the idea of gay male chastity? Sweet Jesus. I’m glad things are going well for you guys, John. Send pictures. Really.

I apologize to those who sent in feedback. It took me far too long to get to it all this time around.

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How I should be

Got home Saturday after three days on the road. I love these trips, but the getting there and back is grueling. Before the sun went down, Belle was already saying I needed to go back in to the steel. Not until Sunday, though.

Sunday morning, she was up early getting the boy ready to leave for camp. I wanted some fun, but it wasn’t to be. By midmorning, I had the Steelheart back in place. But, you may be thinking, didn’t I have a new Jail Bird waiting for me? Yes, I did, but it wasn’t right. I ordered it with a security screw and it came with a hole for a regular little padlock. I tried it with the one and only little padlock we still have from the old CB6K days but it was one of those black Masterlocks with the plastic shell and it made the unit too bulky. It was quite visible poking through my sweats. Also, I’m not a big fan of the way the lock sits sideways on the JB.

I don’t really consider the screw omission to be Mature Metal’s fault entirely. The order started as an email exchange about getting a new base ring, the more observant of you might remember, and it evolved into a whole new device after several messages sent back and forth. We ended up using a non-standard channel for the order and they missed a detail. Had it gone through their site, I’m sure it would have been right. In any event, it’s going back to get screwed.

By Sunday night, Belle and I had found some personal time. Naked, I laid close to her with my head down on her chest while she fingered my sack and basically drove me crazy. She asked me how I was doing being back in and I, in that state with that sensation, would have told her anything. I said I was glad to be back in. I was happier that way. I told her how I never got used to having a normal penis during the trip. Each time I took a leak it felt weird handling a soft flap of meat rather than a steel tube. And in the morning, the unencumbered erection was a distraction. I felt like I was cheating somehow. It was wrong. She told me I was suited to being locked up. That it was how I should be. Then she let me get her off.

When it was over, I was amazingly turned on. The tube throbbed with beat of my heart, bit into my nascent erection and pulled on my nuts. I wanted…something. Not to be out, but to be out. Not to fuck her, but to fuck her. Not to come, but to come. All the conflicting and otherwise contradictory urges that come with the denial of orgasm.

I’m on my third day back in the steel and it feels like I was never out. Belle’s right. This is how I should be.

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Fireworks

So it’s true, sports fans. The bunny did come over the holiday weekend. Once on Thursday inside Belle and once again the next day all over my stomach (with Belle in attendance, however).

She let me out in the morning and yet again chose not to get herself off on the penis and opted for my fingers. Once done, she let me go inside and have at it. I tried so hard to make it last. I felt very confident that I would. That I was in control and would have enough time to really enjoy the old-fashioned sex, but my mind started inserting images and thoughts into my head. The fact that Belle hadn’t needed the penis to get off and that it was usually locked up, forgotten, and unnecessary. That it and my ability to control it was a shadow of what once was since, of course, I have essentially no control over it at all anymore. That lack of control is what makes it such a worthless object for Belle. There’s really no way to stop the orgasm. I can’t stop it. It’s coming already…right now…there. Done. Well less than a minute and I was copiously pumping nearly six weeks of pent up ejaculate into Belle. It felt like it was over before it even started.

The next morning Belle wasn’t really interested in anything but allowed me to jack off next to her in bed. Again, I wanted it to last so I could at least really enjoy the build up to an actual climax as opposed to the stopping and retreat that normally happens when I have access to the penis. And again, while I lasted longer than before, it was over so soon. Just a hair trigger it all that remains (at least so soon after I get out).

Friday night, she asked me how I felt. Pretty flat, to be honest. Orgasm is a massive let-down now, though at least I’ve already started to feel the build-up again. The floppy-floppy weirdness of the penis will wear off in a few days (along with the odd jellyfish-like gelatinous nature of my nuts – they’re so much more orderly when trapped by a steel ring).

Next we’re in an interesting period. The boy and I head out later this week to go camping on the west coast. We won’t be home until the 21st. Based on the conditions we’ll be in and the lack of essential privacy, I won’t be able to go with the Steelheart on. It needs to much hygienic maintenance. But, if the new Jail Bird arrives in time, it’s possible I could wear that. It wouldn’t be to keep me from doing anything since the lack of hygiene privacy will mean no masturbatory privacy, either. It’s really more about the control thing. Even when it’s not necessary, it’s there. All the time, it’s there. That’s what we both want. But, if the JB doesn’t land before I leave, it’ll just mean one or the other will go on as soon as I get home.

Now that I’ve come (and assuming she won’t let me do it again before I leave), I’m thinking about the next time it might happen. Belle likes to attach these occurrences to holidays or holiday-like events. My birthday is close to Labor Day, so that’s a possibility. In mid-October is our anniversary. Closer in, there’s a couple of weeks here and there when both kids will be absent at camp or visiting relatives. Those are also viable options. Or, since she’s reading this and knows I know how it works, she might skip over all those options entirely. Or she may not care and pick one anyway. In either event, I won’t know very far in advance and will have little choice.

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No deposit, no return

I ran about four miles on Sunday and then another four on Monday. Tuesday, I started to feel a little twinge in the end of the tube. Like a pinch, but not. Wednesday, it was pretty much constant and had me readjusting the device frequently in an attempt to get whatever little piece of skin was trapped between whatever metal surfaces, but it wasn’t really working. I assumed the tender bits had rubbed against the tube too much, because of the running, and were sore. Or something. Yesterday morning, I finally asked Belle to let me out and check it.

What I found wasn’t a pinch at all. The 10 gauge PA ring I wear had a build-up of mineral deposits not unlike what you’d find if you had hard water. We do have hard water, but there’s also a fair amount of urine passing by that metal regularly, so it could also have been a result of the other kind of hard water. In either event, the white scaly build-up was accumulated near the ball in the ring and went around it about a quarter of the way (remember, I hadn’t seen it for a month). It was on the part of the ring that goes inside the end of the penis, between the natural opening and the piercing. It wasn’t pinching I was feeling, but irritation from the rubbing of this deposit against the inside of the penis’ head. Owie.

I left the device off all day yesterday as I went about my business. It was really fucking weird. The wobbly bits were moving all over and squishing and squashing and rubbing against the inside of my underwear and in general being very distracting. The couple of times I pulled it out to pee, I was like, “Oh! Yeah. That. Right.” Due to an irregularity in our morning schedule, I didn’t have much of a chance to take advantage of the penis freedom. It did allow me to wear a pair of pants I generally don’t wear while in, though. That was a nice treat as I think they make my ass look good.

I got home later than usual and the family was there. Again, no opportunity to abuse the penis. I put on my regular cut-off sweats (worn commando) and t-shirt only to find the penis being even more of a distraction. It’s freedom allowed it to rub against the inside of the sweats and that, combine with its wibbling and wobbling in general, caused it to chub out in an inappropriately noticeable way. So I locked myself back up.

I’m telling you, it’s just easier that way. It’s easier to pee (what with the PA and all) and it’s less of a distraction and it maintains a somewhat large yet totally static and manageable bulge. So that’s me now. The guy who had freedom due to injury yet gave it up because wearing a steel tube is who I am. I could totally see Belle leaving me out because she tends to completely defer to me when I say I feel discomfort (perhaps to a fault) and that would lead to a very difficult night which would have led to a very difficult workout this morning. All things being what they were, I opted for lock-down.

Not totally, though. I left the PA and fixing out in order to give it some time to recoup. That’s left the tube feeling a little more cavernous since the fixing isn’t there to take up any space or hold the penis into place. It’s been bouncing around off the sides as I walk. Also, it’s harder to clean since the water from the shower nozzle pushes the meat up the tube, blocking its escape. Were it hard enough, the water pressure would probably push the penis out entirely. The final weird thing is how a tiny circular piece of the penis pokes out the end of the tube (the PA fixing normally keeps the end of the penis secured just inside, even when under steam). I usually feel nothing on the penis when it’s trying to get hard except pressure but now there’s this little spot that’s intensely sensitive. It causes sharp jolts of electric sensation up and down my body when it brushes against something. For those interested, I’ve included a picture after the jump. Nothing too dramatic. Just one little eye winking though a porthole.

So anyway, I soaked the PA ring and fixing in vinegar for a while this morning and the deposit (whatever it was) dissolved away. Tomorrow I’ll tell Belle I’m good to go with the full meal deal if she wants it in there. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep jiggling (and peeking).

Continue reading “No deposit, no return”

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I neglected to add…

Belle got home late last night and wished me a happy anniversary. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“I read the blog,” she said. Ahh, I see. Four weeks. As in, my observation on Saturday that I’ve been locked for four straight weeks today. That anniversary.

And it was, truly, late – a school night, no less – so I didn’t think anything sexual was going to happen. And it didn’t. But even just hearing her acknowledge that my condition was known to her made a difference. That she hadn’t forgotten and, presumably, didn’t take it for granted. I laid next to her in bed, half rolled over on my side, and she left her hand in a spot where she could idly finger the hair just above the penis in its prison while we fell asleep. That minor, intimate contact along with the simple words charged me up. It was enough so that when I woke up this morning with the massively tight tube I didn’t feel grumpy or annoyed. I felt contained and comforted. I don’t need to be strung up and whipped or tied to the bed all night or facesat until I turn blue to know she cares. Sometimes, all it takes is a few words and a gentle touch.

Regarding the the thing I neglected to add as referred to in the title of this post, I forgot to mention in my previous missive that working out has become a sure-fire way of avoiding the dreaded chastity insomnia. I am trying like hell now to work out every day, not just because I crave it and want to feel good, but I’ve noticed that no amount of hormonal blood level can stop me from sleeping on the days I either see the trainer or run for three miles.

Friday afternoon, for example, I wanted to run badly, but the kids and I went out to see a movie and have dinner. We didn’t get home until after sunset and while I wanted to, I didn’t put the shoes on and take off. Subsequently, I was restlessly tossing around until after 2:30 AM. Not sure when I finally slept, but I knew as I laid there staring at the ceiling and doing everything except looking at porn (which is what I really wanted to do) that had I exerted myself, I would have been in dreamland.

Speaking of dreams, I’ve had several recently in which the chastity device was featured. I can’t recall the details, of course, but in one, the device just fell off of me. I’ve had that happen in dreams before and each time I remember feeling like I’m going to be in trouble. Try as I might, the device simply won’t go back together and I’m left with it in pieces in my hands. Other times I suddenly find myself in a situation where the device is visible in front of other people. I’m either all of a sudden naked or it’s out of my pants or something weirdly dreamy like that. At least one dream involved a urinal and other people. Not sure how, exactly, but the device was discovered.

Speaking of devices, I’ve ordered a new Jail Bird. There’s not a thing wrong with the Steelheart (obviously since I’ve been in it for a month) but sometimes a boy just wants some variety. For those keeping score at home, the previous Jail Bird went permanently out of commission when I accidentally snapped the post off the A-ring in an attempt to make it less constricting. I was going to just send the cage back and get a new ring, but I can’t find the damned thing. It’s got to be somewhere, but it’s not in any of the little hiding places I’ve used before. I suspect I got clever in where I put it but too clever to remember where that was. So, in any event, a new one has been ordered. I went with a slightly larger A-ring this time and opted for the oval option. We’ll see how that works. Expect a full report when it arrives.

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Finding myself

So I’m tending the porn farm and come across this (obviously, that’s a NSFW link there). And I’m thinking, Daaaaamn. That’s fucking hot. Then I think, Wait a minute. Is that…?

Turns out, I had seen that picture before. Right here. It’s me in the Jail Bird. As a guy who puts dirty pictures of himself on the internet, I do, from time to time, find those pictures regurgitated by others on the endless pornographic rotisserie that is Tumblr (usually this one, though). It’s to be expected. I’m not in any way disturbed by it (though a simple shout out of where it came from would be nice).

The thing I find funny about this is that I didn’t even recognize myself at first. And to be honest, the thing that tipped me off that it was me wasn’t the penis or the device, it was my hand in the background. Then I noticed the way the hair was clipped and how the nuts hung and it all clicked. I didn’t remember the photo since it wasn’t HNT or anything, just a quick pic demonstrating how the JB makes the penis shift into its off-center cage.

Speaking of the Jail Bird, I do admit to liking how that cage looks. There’s something about being able to see the penis behind bars (and then pushing out between the spaces in them) that really flips my switch. Alas, the JB’s A-ring post is broken (and the ring was always a bit too small anyway) so it’s not available to me. I asked Belle if I could send it back to be fixed but she prefers the Steelheart. The fact that it’s almost the exact opposite in the way it totally hides the penis. Out of sight. Gone. She doesn’t seem to like seeing it anymore. I guess that’s how it should be. How I want it. But still, I’d like to wear a real cage every now and again.

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Twice is not enough

Memorial Day weekend came and so did I. Twice.

Belle didn’t let me out of the Steelheard until the morning after we arrived (Saturday), but after having me get her off with my mouth and fingers (no penis, again), she let me fuck her until I came. It was one of those super intense orgasms that you get after an extended denial that wasn’t bad but wasn’t exactly good, either. Somehow anticlimactic. By 3:00 that afternoon I wanted to go again but I had to wait until the next morning when she let me fuck her once more (but with her top on). That one was all about me (which I’m not a huge fan of) but it was a better orgasm.

Usually, twice in quick succession like that would spend me for a while. Monday, though, Belle wanted me back in (all of 48 hours out) and by the time we got home that night I was as horny as if it never happened. So horny, in fact, that it almost became a chastity-induced night of no sleep. As it was, I only slept for about three hours. That made the trainer especially fun the next morning.

She let me get her off again this morning. I was up on my hands and knees rubbing my face against her breasts while she reached under and gently caressed my balls. The steel tube pressurized completely while my fingers found her wet snatch. It was all over far too quickly. She held my hand against her, my finger curled up toward her G spot, and she came intensely yet quietly. After a respectable amount of basking time for her, I grabbed her and held on, pressing the tight tube into her. Fuuuuuck, I’m horny.

“You haven’t even been in there a week, Thumper.”

Whimper.

I know that, of course, but tell it to my body. I can’t remember ever having two orgasms leave me essentially where I was before they happened like this.