Due to the typical NSFW images that go along with them, this product review is behind a jump… Continue reading “Oxballs Cock Lock Review”
Homecoming
Belle’s home from her two week overseas adventure so all’s right in the world again. It’s been hard keeping my hands to myself and I’m sure I’m annoying her with the attention, but I’m just so happy to have her back in the house.
She landed Friday afternoon and was in the typical jet-lagged haze for the rest of the day. I was able to keep her up until 9:00 PM (totally innocent — we were watching Friends) but then she crashed and was sound asleep seconds after she settled in. At about 4:00 AM, the penis in its tube woke me up. I realized she was laying there staring at the ceiling so I made my move. Turned out pretty well. She gave me the key and I got her off with a fully hard penis waiting impatiently between us. Then, when it was time for me to go for a ride, she told me she wanted to feel me come inside her. A little part of me rebelled at the notion, but I didn’t say anything and dutifully ejacualted as requried. It was not a great orgasm as orgasms go and I’m OK with that. But it was copious and that’s pretty much what she wanted. She told me she needed to feel me “mark” her on her return. That the orgasm had nothing to do with me, really. Sort of an unfortunate byproduct of what she needed to have happen. Regardless, she wanted me locked right back up. I was only out about three hours.
I was out and about all day and not in the office until late in the afternoon. I stopped in only because I was expecting a package from Mr. S to be waiting for me. Indeed, there it was. My business partner called me out for only coming in to pick up a package and wanted to know what was in it. I said it was something for home but he wouldn’t have any of that.
“It’s clearly something you don’t want to tell me about.”
“Clearly.”
“Now I know it has to be something illicit.”
“You’ll never know, will you?”
“You mean you have secrets you don’t share with me?”
I wanted to say, “As a matter of fact, I do. Not only does my wife lock my cock in a steel cage just about all the time and I go weeks and months without coming, I like to stick things in my butt and, oh, I have a boyfriend I get to fuck around with on the side. Did I mention the bondage thing? Or the masochistic tendencies? How’s that for secrets? Want any more?” But all I said was, “You have no idea.”
In the envelope was the Oxballs Cock Lock. I’ll be posting my full impression later, but I was anxious to get it home in time for the weekend. I’ve been wearing it since.
Yesterday’s orgasm has really done nothing to my overall horniness level. I was ready and raring again this morning for something, though Belle told me that there would be no more coming for me any time soon and I wasn’t getting out of whatever device I happened to be in, either. Regardless, I wanted to feel her come, but I wasn’t pushy about it. Luckily, she was amenable to the idea.
Before we got down to it, though, she told me how she and our trainer had been flirting with one another via text while she was gone. I’m convinced this is SOP for male trainers and their female clients. Belle knows what this does to me and, even though I asked for details, she wasn’t forthcoming. I told her I’m pretty sure that someday he’ll send her a cock shot. Yes, he’s that kind of guy. I’m sure with a tiny bit of encouragement from her, it’s entirely with the realm of possibility.
This is not a new thing with him. He once sent her a picture of himself shirtless. Yeah, I know. Fucking hot, right? Based on my own personal experience, I know a guy who will send that picture is also a guy who will send others and of a more personal nature.
Anyway, I immediately wanted to fuck her. She wanted to be marked yesterday, but today, it was me craving the marking. But nope. Wasn’t going to happen.
Before we started, she got her new little purple vibe out of her drawer. She had taken it on the trip with her and, she reports, used it multiple times to get off. I, of course, got off zero times while she was gone. Yes, of course, she knew that. And now I know that one of the times she got off was while she was on the plane. I told her back when I doing that sort of thing, I’d jack off on planes, too. She said that sounded hard to do in one’s seat which is where she was when she did it with her vibrator. In her seat. GAH.
Yes, it was in business class which meant a lot more privacy than back where the they keep the goats, chickens, and regular people, and the thrum of the engines probably helped cover the thrum of the little vibe, but still. Jesus, I wanted her.
The best I got was to be the one pressing it against her clit when she came. And that’s pretty great, too, of course. She told me I might get out tomorrow for some fucking, but I’m certainly not coming.
After her orgasm, we laid in bed and chatted and snuggled. She looked across the room where the t-shirt I got for Drew was and she reminded me I forgot to give it to him. I mentioned to her the recent comment on his blog about how he was “taking me down a path she can’t follow” and the seemingly persistent impression of some people that she’s been coerced into this arrangement that allows me to have my fun with Drew. Like she’s a wilting ingenue in the sidelights.
In fact, giving me permission to play outside our marriage was her idea. She proactively gave me that option based on rules and guidelines she established. The notion among some readers that she’s a victim in all this or that I’m somehow taking advantage of her is preposterous. I’m honestly perplexed by this. I told her these types of people are worried about how Drew is going to ruin our marriage. She laughed and said something along the lines of, “Yeah, look how terrible it is.” I told her how there was concern that Drew was turning me gay. She laughed and laughed. “He’s doing a bad job of it,” was her thought.
In fact, Belle is and always has been the one who holds all the cards in my extracurricular activities. I operate under her rules and within what she’s comfortable with. She lets me do with him a) things she is not interested in doing with me, and b) things she cannot do with me but that she knows I want. She’s as much in control of that relationship as she is ours.
I suppose there will always be those who worry I’m going to leave Belle for Drew or some other man. That, contrary to everything I’ve written here on the topic, I’m not the bisexual heteromantic guy who thinks boobies are awesome and loves to munch on pussy. Luckily, the only person whose thoughts on that matter really count is not one of those people. Belle is confident in her position over my heart. She knows me. Knows what I want. What I need. And I am so happy and feel so lucky that she handles me as well as she does in whatever bed I find myself.
BON4M chastity device…er…“review”
About what you’d expect from a NSFW image perspective, so we’ll put this one behind a jump…
When absence becomes a verb
Had to live through another sleep-deprived night yesterday that was maybe 70% caused by hormonal denial build-up and 30% sick kid up in the middle of the night. Seems like these all-nighters don’t come as often as they used to, but the resolution of my recent kidney stone thing has allowed my libedo to come rushing back like someone turning the tap on Niagara Falls. I tried to write a post yesterday, but my foggy dementia from lack of sleep made it not so great.
The thing I was trying to get out was something you’ll either get because your Rorschach patterns of kink and proclivity resembles mine sufficiently or you won’t. As I said, I’m really horny, but I have no desire to play with the penis. Well, I mean, if I was told I could, I’d do it in a millisecond, but the overlapping factors of submission and obedience and faith and trust all soaking in a hot bath of hormones cause me to not think of it as a pleasure object. Not something that is right for me to focus on or have access to or have any rights over. I had to remove the Steelheart the other day because of the kidney thing and felt a great craving to get it back on as soon as I could. I had legitimate access to a free stick of meat filled with all kinds of wonderful pleasure receptors and honestly wanted nothing to do with it. Because the pleasure received by returning to the condition in which I was placed and expected to be (and how I was expected to act) overwhelmed the other kind of more immediate and direct pleasure.
Same thing happened yesterday. I had to get out for the doctor visit and found myself actually resentful at the disruption. I have gone to the doctor locked up before, but not when it involves the thing being locked, so I do understand why it’s necessary and all that, but it pissed me off more than I was expecting. Once the visit was over, even before I was out of the building, I felt the need to be back in the Steelheart the same way I need that first shot of caffeine in the morning. A hungering edge to be contained again. Feeling the cold steel wrapped again around the shaft of the penis brought a palpable sense of relief and comfort to me.
And it goes beyond that. Belle has said I look odd to her when I’m not in the Steelheart and the pink meat is flopping around naturally. That, as I’ve said, she honestly prefers me to be locked up (both from how it makes me look and act). And I like that. I’m more than OK with that. I want that. Men are conditioned by culture and probably even by evolution to be driven by this idea that they are somehow measured as men by their penis and how it measures and what they do with it. But in our relationship, she’d rather I not use it on her. She’s grown to favor the kind of sex we have that leaves the penis in it’s trap. She’d rather it stay where it is most of the time and remain absent from the dynamic.
But, of course, it is part of the dynamic. It can’t not be. But its contribution now is its absence. What it’s going through by not being allowed out and the void left behind when you’re having terrific and rewarding sexual relations with a man without depending on his cock. In spite of it. In fact, in neither of my sexual relationships is its absence considered a problem. Drew, commenting on the photo I posted last time of the free penis, said something to the effect that it’s not even how he thinks of me. That he wouldn’t know how to relate to me if I had a free penis with him. He also prefers the steel and honestly has no interest in getting to what’s inside.
And I do not miss my freedom. I don’t miss being able to play with it whenever I want and I don’t miss not being able to stick in people or that they can’t touch it most of the time. After just a short period of denial and chastity, it becomes who I am. Not a thing we do. Or a thing on me. When it’s working, it is me. Even when it wakes me up at 3:00 AM. I rarely if ever think anymore, “Man, I wish this thing was off me.” I almost always think, “Man, I wish this thing would stop trying to break out.” The craving for the thing locked away and the sensation that comes from it never goes away, but it transforms. That energy transmutes into something positive.
Anyway. There’s a little mid-week trip down the physiological rabbit hole that is my sexuality. I could go on, but it’d just get tiresome.
Dented
The other day, I wrote a post that said enforced chastity devices don’t make penises smaller. I stand by that based on my now years of experience along with never having seen any evidence to the contrary (other than a bunch of words). I did say…
Now, what I have noticed when first coming out after an extended lock-up is the penis will be a little fatter towards the bottom than the top when erect, but that goes away after a day or so. I can only assume the erectile tissue needs to “stretch back out” once its been released. But the effect has never been long-lasting. Certainly not permanent.
Due to my recent illness, Belle let me stay out and I noticed this phenomenon yet again. The penis, when hard, was slightly narrower on the “top half” than at the base for a few days before it got back to normal. I was out for about five or six days total after having been locked up more or less for a month straight.
I received some feedback from a reader called Jay that I assume was in reply to my post on how being locked up doesn’t change penis size:
Regarding growers in Chastity advice. If a man has a 7 inch long erect length and is in a 2 inch tube only the 2 inches is prevented from erecting. He will erect behind the ring. This becomes programmatic because it heightens the risk of penile fracture. true there is no os penis in humans But the membranes that encapsulate the erectile tissues can be ruptured. This is an actual ER visit injury, untreated it leads to permanent erectile dysfunction.
Second issue is girth difference when the shaft is soft it can be forced into a tube that is to small eg 6k but later when engorged Full urethral tamponade occurs. Unable to piss at all. 1″ diameter soft 1 5/8″ diameter hard. This person will need a tube with a 1 3/8″ ID
I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard about penile fracture occurring from chastity. Is it possible? I suppose. Has it happened? Not saying it hasn’t. Just saying I’ve never heard about it. I assume what when Jay said, “true there is no os penis in humans,” he meant penile bone and, no, there is no penile bone in humans. So…yeah. Not an issue, thankfully. If we had penile bones, we probably couldn’t wear chastity devices like those we wear.
Anyway, yeah, if you think your penis has fractured, see a medical professional. Consider a finger waved in your general direction.
Regarding “urethral tamponade” (which sounds not unlike an ice cream flavor to me), yep, been there. Sometimes, the device is so tight I can’t even pee, but it’s more often the case that peeing is possible and, as I pee, becomes easier since the erection subsides. The compression of the urethra only lasts as long as the erection does.
All that said, being out and actually jacking the shaft made the one (apparently) permanent change the Steelheart has had on the penis more evident. Evi-dent, I said. Get it?
A little more than half way down the shaft, when it’s hard, is an obvious dent. It’s just about exactly where the edge of the tube A-ring hits it when it’s hard (the remainder of the erection being either stuck up inside me or sticking out the back of the device). It can be felt, but not seen, across the top of the shaft, but not underneath. I suppose the only way to know if it’s permanent would be to stay unlocked for an extended period and see if it went away.
Yeah, right.
I told Belle about the dent. She was unmoved. “It’s just a physical manifestation of your commitment and submission to me, isn’t it?”
Yes. Yes, it is.
The one about being sick and grumpy
The only thing I find worse than blog posts apologizing for not having blogged in a while are blog posts about being sick. I don’t blame anyone for making these (except for the “sorry I’ve been gone so long” kind — unless you were abducted by aliens or something, my advice is just pick it up where you left off). In fact, I know I’ve made a few posts like that myself…and am about to again.
I’ve been ill a few different ways. One perhaps related to my denial and the other due to our inability to nail viruses like the little bastards they are.
A little over two weeks ago I started to unexpectedly feel an urge to urinate, even when I didn’t need to go. It got worse and worse until it felt almost as if I was always desperately in need to pee even with a totally empty bladder. I chalked this up to three possible explanations. One, perhaps it had something to do with being with Drew. What, I couldn’t say. It’s not like I’ve never had fun with my butt before and this feeling over such a long period was new. However, the issue did develop within 48 hours of seeing him. Two, maybe I had another UTI. This also seemed unlikely as I had no other symptoms at all and couldn’t figure out how I could have gotten one (unlike last time). Three, could it be related to my recent kidney stone adventure? The first time I had a kidney stone, passing it was capped off by a day or so of similar feelings as, I assume, the stone passed through my prostate area. This last time (more than a month ago now), that feeling never happened. I didn’t think much of it until this started. However, I don’t know if kidney stones can go into hiding like that for a period of time before finally passing through. And, even if they could, this one wasn’t passing. If it was a stone, it was just sitting.
Eventually, as the symptoms entered a second week, I decided to go to the clinic.
I know, this is utterly boring stuff.
At about the same time, I came down with a cold. A nasty, annoying, pain in the ass common cold. I’m still dealing with its lingering effects. I only mention this because it was part of the web of maladies that left me feeling depressed and generally really unsexy and totally antisocial.
Before heading to the clinic, I used an at-home UTI test. I didn’t even know they existed but found one at Target. It reported the presence of leukocytes in my urine (one time very minutely and the second time quite apparently) and said they were indicative of an infection. At the clinic, they found no leukocytes and therefore said I didn’t have an infection but the doctor prescribed antibiotics anyway and I dutifully started taking them.
The symptoms got ever so slightly better. Hardly at all. Plus, my cold turned into a raging sore throat. I would have gone in for a strep test, but since I was already on antibiotics, I didn’t bother. I felt terrible and Belle was out of town. Blah.
Good god, could this be any more tedious?
Now, some of you who’ve played around with denial may have had some symptoms like mine before. Sometimes, when I’m really good and turned on and making all kinds of seminal fluids, the prostate will swell and this “I really have to go” feeling will kick in. Imagine that, but about 50 times worse and going on for weeks. At first, I thought that’s what it was. But it got worse and kept going. So I quickly dropped that theory. Then, in chatting with Drew (in a surly and pitiful way) he brought it back up. I decided to ask Belle to come. Not just once. I really wanted to blow things out.
Of course, I did not want to come. Not even a little. But, on the way back home from picking her up at the airport, I mentioned the idea to Belle who agreed to let me. We got home quite late so there was little fanfare. She turned off the lights and rolled over while I got into bed with a little hand towel.
“That was quick,” she murmured into her pillow.
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I suppose now you’re going to turn into an asshole…”
For the record, I have definitely not turned into an asshole. But yeah, I did come quite quickly. And the sensation of pushing what turned out to be copious amounts of juice though my prostate was pinchy and intense. I came again the next day and one more time on Saturday.
I am really anti-orgasm lately. I haven’t been denied nearly long enough to want them and I felt a lot of resentment at being in a spot where I need to. Oddly, though, and perhaps because these are “clinical” orgasms, I haven’t felt a huge amount of sub drop.
In any event, the symptoms have gotten better. A lot better. But they’re not gone. Now, I feel them most intensely in the morning and at night. But not as bad as before. During the day, I only feel like I have to pee when I actually have to pee. So that’s nice.
Later this week, Belle and I and the kids are off on our annual Spring Break pilgrimage to the Virgin Islands. Since the symptoms seem to be getting better (even after she did not let me come on Sunday), I won’t be seeking further medical advice before leaving. However, if things are still relatively unchanged upon our return, I’ll be heading back to the doctor. Hopefully it’ll all be good since nobody wants to read (or write) another post like this anytime soon, I’m sure.
Nine nine nine
I’m all hung up on the fact that my next post will be the thousandth on the blog. I’m not sure if that counts the couple of dozen aborted drafts that never saw the light of day or not (or if it really matters since it’s kind of an arbitrary thing to get hung up on anyway). The next one has kept me from doing this one because once this one’s done then the next one is the big one-zero-zero-zero.
Plenty of things I could write about…
Drew was in town this week. Before he got here, Belle essential insisted that I take him to dinner the night he arrived. She even offered to help me groom myself prior to seeing him. I hope this continues to alleviate any lingering concerns among my readers as to Belle’s emotional wellbeing in this age of open marriage. I also hope my discussion of our open marriage and the fact that I had sex with another man again drives off any lingering hateful homophobes from your midsts (I’m not allowed to describe it here, but assume the aforementioned sex was as awful and dirty as you’re imagining if it helps you close your browser window in disgust and never come back). Minimally, even if you don’t like or get what we’re doing (all four of us involved), you should be happy for us that it seems to only make things better for everyone.
Over on his blog, Drew posted about the net positive effects our openness has had for he and Axel.
Now, five or six months later, I can honestly say I had no idea how great the open marriage would actually be for my marriage. The time I have had with Thumper has already made me a better husband because I am paying attention to Axel more, learning more about areas I was lacking or needing more experience in, and just knowing that the immense level of trust we have for each other is there, is working, and is helping us grow as a couple just makes my heart light up inside.
Mrs Fever posted a comment that was, as usual, insightfully relevant. In part, she said…
And as much as I love my boyfriend, and hate to leave him when our time is through, there is nothing like coming home to my husband afterward. Time apart always makes us appreciate each other more, and time with someone else makes me remember all the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place. Which, as you say, is something that’s difficult to understand unless you’ve been there.
I have nothing much to add to their combined statements. I feel the same way. Giving me the freedom and the trust to be with Drew once a month or so only makes me love her more and, indeed, coming home from my time with him to be with her intensifies that sentiment.
In other news, we’re at the half-way point of my six week pre-vacation lock-down. I am, to put it as succinctly as possible, horny as all fuck. Funny, but my time with Drew doesn’t seem to make it any worse (or, at least not for long). I went into it this time really charged up and, after he left, I’m pretty much the same. I suppose that’s good for him. I find that being in this state makes me much more focused as to what I want out of our handful of monthly hours. Perhaps I was a bit too forward this time, but I didn’t hear any complaining.
In any event, the other morning Belle and I were talking about it and I’m fully and completely on the other side of the lock-up hump in that I am kind of desperately wanting her to maintain as much tight control over the penis as possible. I requested that she make me lock up even on vacation outside those time I have to be out (TSA, wetsuits, etc.). I feel as though being given too much freedom would make me mental. Distracted from the access and even worried about her commitment to my control (which is nuts, but these are all things that have happened in the past and the fucking hormones are powerful shit). She said she was already leaning in that direction anyway and hearing that made me swoon with gratitude.
That’s the fucked up shit of this chastity and denial thing. Being locked up and horny drives me crazy with desire and frustration but it’s the desire and frustration that, in turn, powers my deeply submissive need to be totally controlled and being totally controlled while feeling all that submissiveness makes me stupidly happy. The nervous ball of energy in my stomach and electric throb from inside the steel tube is in a very real sense the palpable proof that my wife loves me and cares about me. Awesome, right? It leaves me feeling deeply in her debt and so, so grateful to her for all things.
But now I’m treading on whatever post 1,000 will be about. So I’ll choose now as my time to stop and ponder.
Fortnightish
“Can you feel it?”
Belle asked me that as I was wrapped myself around her in bed, pressing my naked body against as much of her bed-clothed body as possible, hard stuffed tube pushing into her thigh. We’re at about the end of the second week of my six week lock-up prior to Spring Break.
“Yes,” I said quietly into her hair.
And I can. A lot. Everything is so much more now. How she looks, how she feels, how she smells, how she tastes. I’m starting to think more about what she might want or how she might feel about something or what she’d want me to do. It’s like fucking magic.
“I can tell,” she said before turing over to sleep, “It’s good for you.”
Whimper.
Then, after a moment, “It’s good for me, too.”
Four more weeks.
Use it or lose it?
Over on the Tumblr, someone calling themselves teenlockedboy asked…
do you guys think shrinking bc of chastity cage is a real thing?
To which, I replied…
It is definitely not a real thing. Been in a device for the better part of 7 years and the penis is the same size it ever was.
Then, someone calling themselves slaveboyinma said…
Yes. Remember the saying. Use it or lose it? Just another reason why that statement is so true.
And someone else calling themsleves nonyshikon added…
It probably can be, for some. The trouble is, very few are doing scientific research on anything sex-related, and…
I’ve gone over this in the past…
As I mentioned last week, I was out of the device for a day and a half due to some irritation. During that time, I found myself with a hard penis in my hand (purely for research and reporting purposes, of course – I’m always thinking about my readers) and decided, since it seemed like it was about as hard as it gets, that I’d check to see how things were going. I got the measuring tape and verified that Belle’s cock is every bit the 5 and 5/8 inches it has ever been, even though it spends almost all the time locked inside a very short steel tube.
That was in 2011. In the past couple of months (I can’t recall exactly when), I checked in again on the length of the penis and it’s still, stubbornly, 5 and 5/8 inches long. Contrary to nonshikon’s assertion, I think there’s a fucking lot of study going on regarding items of a sexual nature, but no, I don’t think there’s a lab anywhere doing work on the locked-up penis size issue. However, as a guy encased in a short steel tube way more than half the time (probably at least 75% of the time) and having been like that for many years (even more often in recent years) I can state unequivocally and without hesitation that chastity does not make dicks smaller. Period. At least, not the one on me. Without documented evidence to the contrary, I simply won’t believe anyone who says it does.
Cue all the comments from the little-dicked guys who think they got that way from their devices in three…two…
I recall a chastity blogger who used to be (may still be) active who posted several times about how he and his keyholder were hoping locking him up would make his dick smaller. I asked once if he had seen any changes but never heard back. As far as I know, he never posted any data on the matter. In my personal opinion, he’s not alone in his wish for a diminished member and it’s this penis humiliation kink that drives a lot of the talk about it happening from chastity. This, in turn, freaks out the guys who only want to be locked up, not made smaller.
I also do not believe, beeteedub, that chastity ruins one’s ability to have erections. I still have very nice erections (almost always when I’m supposed to). As I’ve said before, the penis has been trained not to get hard as often in the tube as it would when not, but that’s not a physical issue. It’s a mental thing.
Now, what I have noticed when first coming out after an extended lock-up is the penis will be a little fatter towards the bottom than the top when erect, but that goes away after a day or so. I can only assume the erectile tissue needs to “stretch back out” once its been released. But the effect has never been long-lasting. Certainly not permanent.
So don’t worry, teenlockedboy. Lock away with the piece of mind that the piece between your legs may be locked, but it’s not diminishing. Unlike your ability to use proper spelling and grammar.
I find a clit
As anyone who lives with their penis locked in a steel tube can tell you, hygiene is important. Not to be scrimped on. Probably a third of the time I spend in the shower is attending to the tube.
So this morning, as I was doing my thing (which involves squirting soapy water in the tube and squishing it around), I stuck my finger down there to make sure everything was nicely cleaned out. Typically, I run it down each side to get to the place under the head of the penis where the PA ring goes around the fixing and urine can collect, but this time I also ran it over the top of the penis and ZING!
So that’s how I found myself with my finger down the tube rubbing the top of the glans on the head of the penis like it was a clit. I mean, the motion was exactly like fingering a clit. After a few moments of this, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, I realized several things. First, being forced into a situation where I can only rub myself like I have a clit is a pretty good mind fuck. Two, there is no way in hell I’d ever be able to come this way. With no way to stimulate the bottom of the head, I might eventually combust, but orgasm would forever be out of reach. Three, after a few seconds of this, the amount of room in the tube that made it possible was rapidly filled. And finally, I wondered if this was in violation of Belle’s “no playing with it” rule. Fuck, probably.
So I stopped.
I’ve been in the device now for about ten days which is not that big a deal in the greater scheme of things but longer than I’ve been locked up solid in a while. I am now entering that period where the device stops feeling like a thing which means I’m getting pretty horny. While I was fingering my little faux clit this morning, the tube felt less like a foreign object and more like part of the thing I was fingering. It’s a weird mental game my brain plays that tells me I’m in the groove. Also, I’m more or less sleeping through the night and am only slightly woken up by the tube pressure in the wee hours and find myself flexing the attempted erection so it fills with more blood and the tube gets that much fucking tighter only because I like how it feels.
It’s also sort of dangerous because I’m feeling the denial ooze around me like a warm mud bath and my desire to come is slipping further and further away. All I want now is her. To feel her come. To hear her moan and breath and climax with my fingers buried up in her hot snatch while the penis throbs and strains and pushes against immovable, implacable, clenching steel. If she let me out and told me I could fuck her and come, I definitely would because it’s her decision, but right now this second today, I would regret it. The head of steam is building in my loins and I want to feel it grow stronger. I am not nearly desperate enough.
But I try and put those thoughts aside. I don’t decide. If she wants me hornier, I’ll be hornier. If she doesn’t, I won’t. But I hope she does. That’s OK, right? Hoping?