“I kinda like watching you squirm. When you’re like this.”

Belle said that to me last night as we were laying in bed and I was looking up at her, imploring her to allow me to share in her orgasm. It was a no-go, but she let me dangle just long enough for me to get really squirrelly.

“Whimper,” I replied.

A little while later, after I had internalized the hormones from earlier, I thought about how I’d like to work myself over with the Njoy pur (and whatever else struck my fancy). But, as I’ve mentioned before, Belle doesn’t let me do anything sexual with my body without her permission. No ass play, no self-administered nipple torture, no solo activities of any kind (other than the consumption of porn). I have to ask first.

“So, how’s this work?” I asked. “If I want to play around by myself. Do you give me permission in advance…?” I trailed off.

“Sure. You don’t have to run off and do it as soon as I say yes. You can do it whenever you want.”

Which is a relief. The only thing more embarrassing that having to ask your wife if you can masturbate (even with a locked cock) is having to then scamper off and lock yourself in the bathroom…where she knows what you’re doing.

“So will I have blanket permission for a certain period…or what?” It seemed to me that it made sense to let me have permission to take advantage of whatever private moment I could find, but how would she know when I was done? Seemed like I could find a way to abuse that arrangement.

“We need a token,” I said. “Something physical that I have to get from you that allows me to play with myself that I can give back when I’m done or that you can take back when you want to.”

“Like the little reward tokens at daycare?” she joked.

“Pretty much exactly like that, yes.” I said. “Can I have the token now?”

“What token? We don’t have one.”

“I don’t know. Can’t we have a virtual token or something for the time being?”

“OK, sure. You can have it. We need to pick something.”

“Agreed. Thank you, Belle Fille.”

Then she more or less fell asleep. I almost drifted off, but, as usual, my buzzing sexual background radiation woke me back up. I was laying there, spooning into her, wide awake. And still in my pajamas. She had forgotten to give me permission to take them off. Damn.

I rolled over and read porn. Lots and lots. Kristen again, but also Nifty. Nifty is mostly gay stuff and I’m finding recently that my pendulum is swinging back in that direction. As I peruse the Tumblr porn tsunami, I tend to linger on the gratuitous cock shots. I don’t have any particular urge to do anything with them when I see them, but not having a hard cock of my own to appreciate, I’m draw to these others instead. Fat ones, fatter ones, soft(ish) ones, hard ones, smooth ones, hairy ones, flying onesbig ones, really big ones – all kinds. I’m a little obsessed. I stare at them, slack-jawed. Sometimes, when I get like this and I’m all locked up and can’t see a real live hard cock for myself, I feel kinda like a third sex. I don’t have what they have. Instead, I have this hard shiny thing that gets really uncomfortably tight from time to time.

Anyway, I’d read some porn, then roll over to try to sleep. But my brain would keep working and I’d be drawn back to the iPad to read just one more story. Well, that one wasn’t all that good. Maybe just one more. Fuck the device is tight. This is killing my nuts. OK, time to sleep. *sigh* I’m not tired. Damn, iPad’s back on again. And so on. I eventually did drift off about 2:30 or so only to be woken by a late-summer thunderstorm. Belle woke up, too, so I spooned back into her again, just as I had done hours earlier.

“You can take off your clothes, Thumper,” she said  sleepily as she rolled over.

“Thank you, Belle Fille.”

And then I slept.