Not feeling it

20110503-010045.jpg

I’m on my business trip (the one I mentioned the other day) and, as promised, Belle let me go unattended. The issue this presents for me is I’m in a room by myself with a cock that hasn’t been relieved in five weeks or so and the damn thing keeps looking at me. It’s at times like these that I wish I was locked up because frankly I can’t keep my hands off of it.

Belle knew that was going to be the case so she’s allowing me to play with it while I’m here. I admit to having done that, but not just while awake. I had three distinct dream episodes last night that involved me having an orgasm. All I remember is snippets, but in the first I was essentially me and I was jacking off and thinking I could “accidentally” come and no one would be the wiser. In the second, I was a woman and coming hard, but without the mess, of course. Not sure who was doing the stimulating in that one. In the third, I was young and had strange hands on me making me come. It wasn’t violent or anything, but that one woke me up to a dark room and a very stiff member.

So, yeah, I have been diddling with the tube steak a bit, but I’ve employed a new tactic in making sure I don’t go too far (as in my first dream). Several times now I’ve applied a cream containing lidocaine, a topical anesthetic. I’ve had it a while now but haven’t had time to experiment with it. I grabbed it while packing figuring four unlocked days would be a good opportunity.

In any event, the cream is white and odorless and actually makes a pretty good masturbatory aid at first. Then, about 15 minutes or so after application (the time in which it’s hardest to wait), the surface of the cock starts to feel somewhat numb. Sensations are dulled, yet still there. I can still (barely) feel the head of the cock being stimulated by my fist. Thirty minutes in, it’s lost nearly all sensation. At that point, another application of the cream pretty much removes all surface feeling. I can still detect the pressure of my fist internally so it doesn’t quite feel like someone else’s cock, but none of the skin is returning any sensation whatsoever. The cock remained quite hard each time because I was still feeling a hard one in my hand, but no matter how much stroking I gave it (and I gave it a lot), I never got remotely close to orgasm. In fact, thanks to my PA ring, some of the cream got inside the cock as well so that when I peed, I didn’t feel the stream leaving my body. Weird.

Yesterday, I was able to play with this stuff in the afternoon before I got ready for dinner and found that even showering with hot soapy water didn’t bring back sensation. The hot water ran down my chest and, even though I saw it streaming off the end of the still chubby cock, I felt absolutely nothing. In fact, feeling didn’t come back for hours. The good news is, this means I could potentially use this stuff with enough warning when Belle wants to fuck me with no fear of coming or diminishing her feeling through contact with me. I’m not entirely sure I’d stay hard, but I had no issue with it the two times I used it so far. The cock is just numbed, not paralyzed, after all.

I assume I’ll have to use it again tonight. I am significantly horny. As long as I use the lidocaine, I can stroke and stroke to my heart’s content and not fear any kind of unfortunate accident. It’s kind of like chemical chastity, in a way.

Tids and bits

A couple of things I neglected to mention while describing my ass pounding:

  • The Stryker dildo is of the vac-u-lock variety and I purchased along with it something called an EZ Rider inflatable ball. My thinking was it would allow better penetration while not putting so much strain on my knees (which are not as springy as they were 20 years ago when I got my first suction cup Stryker dildo). Nice idea, but the ball sucks. The dildo moves around too much on the ball’s vac-u-lock plug making it more difficult to line it up and keep it in place. Plus, the little plastic doodad that supposed to keep the air in the ball kept popping out in situ. Had I to do it over again, I would have gone with the suction cup version instead and saved the extra $25. I could have put it towards the price of a fucking machine. Don’t suppose those are covered by Medicare, do you?
  • Nipple clamps! I totally forgot to mention I used nipple clamps at various points during the event. At different times, I was using three separate types, from mildly pinchy to wickedly so. I had the most vicious things available dangling from the tender pink flesh while I was cleaning up and they bit harder as I moved about, chain swaying and chest flexing. I was so horned up by that point that it seemed my capacity for pain was limitless. Those little fuckers hurt like hell, but the twin lasers of intensity were converted into pure sexual pleasure by whatever twisted little circuit in my brian makes me a masochist. Same idea behind the later ball-busting which was some of the most intense I’ve experienced. Getting trapped in a fucking bear trap probably would have made me shoot right there in my tube.
  • Speaking of the tube, it and I are very much in the zone right now. We’re in that phase where we’re one one and it seems more an extension and natural part of my body than a sex toy. I read on some blog recently advice that chastity play should only be practiced from time to time and not constantly for fear that it become boring. The flip side to that for some is that it’s not a situational sex game. It’s a lifestyle. Even though it’s causing me a great deal of frustration, there’s honestly nothing more than I’d want right now than it locked onto me. Its absence would be like losing an appendage.
  • In all the discussion about the size of the Stryker dildo, I forgot to mention that I wish they would have made one that was his actual size. His cock is so fantastic and working up to being able to experience the bulk of that dildo takes so long that, it seems to me, a 7.5″ version would probably result in more actual pleasure than the freakishly large member they produced. It’s not that I don’t absolutely adore that dildo, but just imagine being able to work yourself over with the real deal first before supersizing. Bliss.
  • Finally, it’s got nothing to do with the ass pounding, but I also forgot to mention that I slipped one of the Pinks into Belle’s open suitcase just as she finished packing Friday night. She got to her hotel room in China and found it nestled in with her underwear and bras. I knew she had forgotten about it because she packed somewhat in a hurry. I didn’t think she should have been without her favorite vibrator for two whole weeks. Hopefully, she’ll partake in its pleasure and tell me about each and every time she does.

Stryker’s beast

If you’re really not into graphic accounts of self-administered anal action, this post probably isn’t for you.

Last time, I said the “realistic” Jeff Stryker dildo seemed ridiculously large. That got me doing some research to find out how big he really is. According to a page called Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Penis Size But Were Afraid to Ask, Jeff Stryker’s cock is 7.5″ long (measured in the proper way along the top, from the pubic bone to the tip). As you can see in the picture below, the “realistic” dildo is actually about 9″ long measured in the same way. That’s about a 20% increase. I’d estimate the insertable length to be about 8″.

Besides the length, the really interesting thing about this dildo is its girth. The circumference just under the head is a half inch greater at 7″ than lower down the shaft where it’s 6.5″. While I can’t find any reliable information about Stryker’s actual girth, I can say these proportions are accurate based on the numerous times I’ve watched him put it to use, though the actual size of the dildo is much larger.

So yeah, it’s bigger than the original. For me, it’s at the very limit of a usable size. While I might be able to get something bigger inside me, that’d just be showing off and not really all that enjoyable.

I haven’t had anything this big to play with in a while. In the recent past, when I felt like getting fucked, I’ve used a cheap vinyl dildo that’s 6″ insertable with a circumference about 4.75″. Nothing too impressive, but also pretty easy to use. Prior to climbing Mount Stryker, though, I made preparations. First thing I did was remove the hair around my asshole. I’ve found that hair is hard to lubricate and will grip a dildo and get pulled in and out with it keeping things from being nice and slippery smooth, so I shaved an area about two inches all the way around. Also, I used one of the other new items I bought with the dildo: the Colt Anal Douche.

As Dan Savage says, having anal sex without douching your rectum is like having oral sex with a mouth full of food. The obvious issues of residual fecal matter is what squicks out so many people who might otherwise really get into anal. This is too bad because it’s so easy to deal with when you have the right tool and the Colt Anal Douche is that tool. The really nifty bit, and what makes it better than the run of the mill bulb enema you can get at any drugstore, is the 6″ attachment you put over the spout on the bulb. The water comes out of it along a seam near the top as opposed to squirting out a hole way up into the colon. It feels better and keeps the water where it needs to be. There’s no point in filling your lower intestine with a gallon of water since the only part that really needs to be cleared is the rectum. All you have to do is fill the douche with warm water (get all the air out!), squirt it up your butt, and push it all out. After three or four times, if the water coming out is as clear as when it went in, everything is ready to go.

As I said, it’s been a long time since I had anything this large in my ass. I approached it in the only way you can when dealing with this much mass: slowly and with tons of lube. I used water-based Astroglide as opposed to the silicone lube. I like to put a condom over my toys to make clean up easier and also because I find vinyl actually causes irritation and stinging. Perhaps I’m allergic. In any event, I decided to get things going with the smaller vinyl dildo, sheathed in latex, to open things up and distribute lube all along the soon-to-be assaulted path. Maybe it was because I was staring down Stryker’s beast, but the smaller dildo slid in rather more easily than normal and was soon in all the way to the base. I could feel my prostate was already crackling with electricity. I left the small dildo in for several minutes while preparing the main event. Once it was out of the way, I moved the big guy into place.

It was as if the smaller dildo had never been there. As the fat, blunt head of Stryker’s beast pressed against my hole, I remembered that there’s nothing subtle about this cock. It’s all business from the very start. My sphincter complained, but I kept a steady pressure against it. I’d push, let it sit there as the tight ring of my ass stretched against it, then I’d pull back to give it a few seconds rest. Then I’d push again, trying to get just a millimeter further. At about 2″ in, the fattest part of the cock was starting to come into play and I found the compression of my hole against the condom squeegeed all the lube off. I had to reapply it again and again.

Push, wait, withdraw.

Puush, wait, withdraw. Lube.

Puuush, wait, withdraw.

Puuuush, wait (oh, god, the stretching), withdraw. Lube.

Finally, after maybe 15 minutes of this, my sphincter had finally opened wide enough to envelope the fattest part of the cock. I admit, if I had never actual had this thing up my ass before, I might of chickened out at this point. The sensation of being opened to that extent was incredibly intense and I only had about a third of the thing in me. But I persevered, slowly yet forcefully, until the 7″ circumference of the first half was past my rim.

After that, it was like the cock got sucked up inside me. As the shaft moved along and the slightly thinner part entered me, I felt myself being opened like I hadn’t been in a very long time. Eventually, I had the dildo in all the way to its balls. I couldn’t move it, though. I was so full of it, the best I could do was leave it in place and let my chute stretch along the entire 8″ of the beast. I’d leave it in as long as I could stand it, then pull it all the way out for more lube. I felt my rectum collapse behind the retreating invader.

Then, back in. All the way. I actually bottom out at precisely the point in which the Stryker dildo is in all the way. The entire length of my rectum is opened by it and its head presses against the point where my anal passage turns and becomes my colon. It’s as if it was custom made for my body.

After another 15 or twenty minutes of repeating the cycle of putting it in, leaving it there, and then pulling it out for more lube, I felt myself loosen up sufficiently to start fucking. I can’t even describe it. It’s like having your guts punched, but in a good way. Eventually, I was pistoning the fat dildo in and out, faster and faster, grunting and moaning and feeling the stretch on the way out and the filling sensation on the way in. Over and over. I can’t say how many times and for how long. In the past, I would have come well before I got to this point, but of course, I couldn’t even see the cock let alone stroke it. My entire being was focused on the feeling of this giant slab of rubber invading me, insistently pushing my prostate and everything else out of its way again and again.

I eventually just tired out. My legs were cramping and sweat was flowing down my forehead. A cock that couldn’t come was fucking a body that never would. The only barrier to going all night was physical fatigue. So much effort had gone into even getting to the point were I could put it inside me, that my tank was close to empty by the time things really heated up.

Finally, the dildo slid out heavily with a slurp and a pop. My asshole gaped at the abuse. I felt it with my fingers and easily could get two inside to massage my fiery gland. I could tell I had leaked, but the natural lube mixed with the Astroglide so I couldn’t tell which was which. I used the douche again to sooth my chute and flush out all the extra lube. I had to concentrate to keep my asshole closed so the water wouldn’t simply fall back out. The first time I pushed it clear, the action caused a huge glob of semen to escape the end of the chastity tube. I was well-milked.

After cleaning up and putting everything away, I went to bed, exhausted but still spinning. I read some porn and worked The Portfolio until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. After about three hours of sleep, one of my various electronic devices made a small sound, but it was enough to wake me up. I was in a hormone hangover, still buzzing with unexpressed sexual energy. My hand reached around to my asshole and it felt smooth and well-fucked and entirely not mine. It was as if I was fingering a stranger. A stranger who had been used and abused. I could feel the absence of the giant cock inside me and I remember why I loved it so much. I wanted it again right then. I wanted to feel it split me open and stretch me to my fullest, I wanted to feel it punch me again and again.

But I didn’t get up. Instead, I went after my nuts. I squeezed and pulled and slapped them. I found that whatever internal lock that usually keeps me from really working them over had been released, so I crushed them and beat them and felt the tendrils of warm aching pain snake throughout my body. Instead of pulling up when I normally hit myself, I was able to strike them with greater and greater force. They felt swollen and hot and they throbbed. All of my unreleased sexual frustration was taken out on the fleshy punching bag. Putting my finger back on my hot, shaved hole, I decided it felt not unlike a pussy. My pussy. Wet and loose.

Exhaustion retook me and I fell back asleep with the ache of my abused testes still rolling though me. I slept fitfully and woke often, each time finding my hands either on my nuts or along my crack. This morning, I’m still swimming in the hormones from the night before. My ass is craving the Stryker dildo again. I can still feel the void it left inside me. My guts hunger for it. Night can’t come fast enough.

While the pussy’s away…

Belle leaves tomorrow. She’ll be on the other side of the world for two weeks. Sucks.

Normally, the cock would be secured during her absence, but smack in the middle of her trip, the kids and I are flying to see Grandma in Vegas. So, obviously, the SH-S will need to come off due to national security concerns. For me, this is a tricky thing because I could just say I need to be out for four days because of travel and leave it at that, but I know (don’t I) that I really only need to be out for a few hours on the two days I’m travelling. If I stay out the whole time, I’ll feel like I’m cheating. Also, I know temptation will be too great to avoid unauthorized diddling with the merchandise. So, the plan at the moment is to stay locked up until Friday morning when I’ll pop my emergency key and take the device off for the flight. As soon as makes sense on the other end, I’ll put it back on until Monday when we fly home.

Once home, I would, theoretically, have access to a free key. That’s not going to work for me. I can be trusted, but keeping the key secure is hotter for the same reason using the PA fixing is. The further away access to the cock is, the better.

As you can see, the current security tab in the keysafe is number 553. That’ll be broken on Friday and replaced with 543 on Monday. I’ll post a picture here of the locked device and the keysafe with 543 in place as soon as I’m resecured. Cheating will be impossible (even if it is also very unlikely).

It’s typically the case that Belle lets me pleasure myself in ways unrelated to the cock while she’s gone. She hasn’t yet given me the word, but assuming it’s coming, I’ve obtained a new toy. Well, actually I’ve replaced an old one. Back with I was single and young, my roommate had a porn tape starring Jeff Stryker. I have absolutely no idea what it was called, but the story line involved Jeff’s character being locked up in jail for an ill-defined offense. Once there, of course, he fucked just about everything with his quite impressing cock. There were a couple of scenes in particular I liked. The first was his check-in at the jail where the guard made him strip, turn around, and spread his cheeks. Jeff always played the top (at least in the stuff I saw him in) so to see him have to submit to authority like that was really sexy. There was another scene with him in a supply closet where he totally dominated another prisoner and yet another in his cell where he fucked a guard. Really hot movie. Pretty sure, between the two of us, that my roommate and I wore that tape out. (Edited to add that after spending about five minutes on the Google, I think the movie in question was called Powertool.)

In any event, the reason I bring it up is when I started buying my own sex toys one of the first I got was a “realistic” Jeff Stryker dildo. It looked like Jeff’s cock, but man. It was so big. And yeah, his cock was big, but I don’t remember it being that big. Regardless, I certainly got my money’s worth over the years with that thing. It was big, but just big enough so that I could really get going with it and not feel like I was about to injure myself. Also, I liked that the first half was fatter than the lower half. Interesting sensation, that. Pull out and feel yourself stretch, push in and feel yourself fill up.

Blah blah blah. Fast forward about 20 years and I received a brand new Jeff Stryker realistic dildo in the mail yesterday. Assuming I get the customary permission to abuse myself in Belle’s absence, I’ll post a review here on the blog. Will Jeff’s giant schlong be as great as I remember? How will my 43 year old ass deal with it? These questions and more will be answered…as long as Belle gives me permission to find out.

Feel the burn

Last night, after Belle went to sleep and told me I was allowed to play with myself, there was a point where I had stroked the cock so much that had I dared to even breathe on it, I would have had an orgasm. I had already milked seven thick slugs of ejaculate from myself without satisfying, even in the slightest, my need to come. I was able to pull up with the awareness of how close I was, but just prior I was in a place where I wanted it so bad that my hand wrapped around the cock formed a single thing upon which every molecule of my being was focused.

And then I let go. And the cock bobbed and quivered and flexed and I knew that if my fingers so much as as grazed the flared head of the cock, that I’d orgasm (most likely dryly). Thinking about it now causes a low thrum under the stiffening cock.

It was fucking torture. Fucking. Torture. The smell of the semen was everywhere and the taste of it was thick in my throat and its sticky sliminess was rubbed all over the cock shaft and between my fingers but I did not come. I dared not. It would be a betrayal of everything I lived for now, including Belle’s trust. I existed in that vaporous microscopically thin space between desire and control and it made me burn.

When I knew I had taken things as far as I possibly could, I cleaned up and went to bed. The cock leaked and leaked onto the sheets so that after 20 minutes I was laying in what felt like a post-coitus wetspot. Besides the leaking, the cock also stung from the abuse on its skin – skin that’s not too often abused that way and has become thin and sensitive. The ring flopped in the PA hole and caused the inside of the cock to feel raw and sore. But still, I wanted more. I wanted everything I could not have because it’s no longer mine to take.

My sleep was fitful and I often found myself cleaving to Belle, pressing the hard cock into her leg and putting my hands inside her bedclothes. I want her so bad. Then, now, always. I’m consumed by desire for her and the gift only she can give.

Living this way is so much harder than being in the device. So much more intense and distracting. Belle told me I was going back in on Sunday morning (which is an odd time), and truly, I will be thankful to have the cock put out of reach. Especially if she doesn’t let me come before the key turns.

A token’s worth

The good news is I didn’t lose control of myself yesterday. Yes, there was good deal of self-abuse and I enjoyed myself very much, but I never quite crossed the line into orgasm. I got right up to the line, but didn’t tumble over.

The interesting bit regarding that is the internal conversation that takes place in the moment of trying to stop whatever it is I’m doing in time to avoid the inevitable. It’s like, “I’m getting really close, I’m getting really close, I’mgettingreallyclose…STOP! Stop, stop, stop!!” And everything grinds to a halt. But in those moments of “I’m getting really close” recognition, there’s this other voice interjecting it’s own agenda.

“I’m getting really close.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m getting reeeally close.”

“I know. It’s no big deal. You can go further.”

“I’m getting really, really, really close!”

“OK, just think for a minute. Should you stop? I mean, honestly? Imagine how good it’ll feel if…”

“STOP! Stop, stop, stop!!

“Goddamn it.”

The ancient reptile part of my brain conspires with whichever little bits of my higher brain are against this whole orgasm denial thing – not in order to talk me out of stopping, but to distract me for just a tiny bit at the end when I’m so close that even a second’s worth of dithering will mean I go over the falls and squirt violently all over the place. I was there four or five times yesterday but it wasn’t until the last two that things got dangerous. Both times I stopped in time to avoid the internal fireworks, but not in time to avoid ejaculation. So, if nothing else, I’m well milked.

Having the cock as a member of my little party was highly unusual. I’d pull up just in time and look down at it all shiny and slick and it, in turn, looked back up. It doesn’t have a face, but it’s distain for me was apparent.

“Oh, just fucking do it, already!” Throb. Squirt. Throb. Bob.

But no. I didn’t. I did exactly what I was allowed to do and no more. And before anyone thinks of ripping me a new one for my prolonged masturbatory indulgence, remember I had permission.

Afterward, I took a shower and decided it would be best if I put the Steelheart back on, but the 5:00 hot spot I talked about yesterday was still pretty hot. Belle inspected the situation last night before sleep and said she’d give it another 24 hours to heal. I enjoyed my freedom and still hope she might want to take advantage of the situation for herself somehow, but honestly, the distraction of having a cock I can reach down and touch, with real hard erections and everything, is almost too much for me to handle. I will be grateful to be shut off from it again.

Fourth quarter, third shot

Belle continued the zone flooding/hard reset regimen and let me come again night before last. We were watching Monday Night Football (can’t believe NO pulled that one out) and, early in the fourth quarter, she said, “Get naked. Then take care of yourself.”

“Do I have a choice?” I was actually kind of sleepy.

“No.” Well. OK, then.

I admit it was a little surreal laying next to her in bed, watching football, jacking off under the covers. Like that’s normal or something. She paid little attention to me and stayed engaged in the game while I pulled on the cock and felt my heavy 4 ga circular barbell flop around in my PA. I don’t usually get to wear that piece since the cock is almost always in a steel tube, so it’s a bit of an extra treat to be out and sporting it. Anyway, even though I’d already come twice in three days, I was able to get it up quickly and found my groove easily. I didn’t waste any time and squirted quietly onto my stomach (being careful to avoid the sheets). She never stirred or said a word. It was like I was clipping my toenails or performing some other mundane act of self-maintenance. I thanked her and missed the rest of the game as sleep quickly reached up for me.

Fast-forward 24 hours and we were in the same spot watching a different game (Sunday Night Football on Tuesday!), me naked, but this time the word was never given. And yeah, three orgasms in five days, but I wanted to go again. After the game was over (skol Vikings!) and she was asleep, I wanked slowly and kept it hard for a while, but never got to the edge. Normally, two shots would put me down for a week or more, but here I am still unlocked and with the possibilities of more orgasms floating around out there. I’m not crazy horny like I can be when I haven’t come in weeks, but I’m some flavor of horny I can’t say I’ve been in a while. There isn’t a constant tickle in my groin for activity, but my brain is definitely instigating something. The lizard knows there’s a chance of more sticky white goo out there and isn’t sated in the least. He wants more. Will he get it? Only Belle knows.

Objects are larger than they appear

Yes, we’re still alive over here.

Belle did let me out. I wanted it but at the same time didn’t. In any event, I took the key and removed the device and was free. That was as we went to bed, so I slept and woke several times due to the weird feeling of having a cock that could feel the sheets rub against it.

The next day, my pants felt empty. You get used to sporting a certain kind of package and when it’s gone, you notice. I was free all that day and again the next night. Even so, I didn’t feel the need to take advantage of the situation. There was no urge to. I was still out of touch with my own sex drive.

The next morning, Belle told me she had her period. She didn’t say it, but I knew that meant I should be locked up again. Back when I wasn’t essentially permanently locked, it was a rule that I had to be protected while she was having her period. That morning, before I put the device back on, I finally felt the desire to play with myself. It wasn’t that big of a deal. No toys or anything, but there was a moderate amount of stroking leading me up very, very close to the edge of orgasm. So close, that I found myself with at least a tablespoon of thick ejaculate in my hand. And how did I know that wasn’t an orgasm? Because I swallowed every bit of it. I ran it around in my mouth, so slick over my tongue, and felt it thick in my throat for an hour afterward. And I wanted more. A lot more. So no, I didn’t come. Then the device went back on and there it’s stayed. Belle has the key again and shows no interest in letting me have it back any time soon.

An interesting observation from my morning self-abuse, though. One of the things you’ll read on the web is that chastity devices make your dick smaller. I’ve always felt it was crap. And I still do, but I may know where the idea comes from. While I was stroking myself and feeling the cock get as long and as hard as it could get, it felt smaller to me than I remember it being. Now, I don’t have a big dick to begin with. It’s perfectly average in length and girth, but I could have sworn it had shrunk. I even got the tape measure out to make sure, but it was still exactly the same size as before (about 5.75″ long).

The thing is, as I said above, you get used to swinging a big steel tube between your legs. So much so that, when it’s gone, the contents feel much less imposing by comparison. It may not get longer when I’m excited, but the tube is always fat and stout. It’s easily twice as big around as the engorged cock and, while shorter, it carries a certain gravitas that mere meat cannot attain. Whatever memory I had of what my former cock felt like had been somewhat displaced by the steel tube.

And here’s the next bit of surprising info. When I was sure the cock had gotten smaller, I wasn’t all that concerned about it. As a guy, you’re conditioned to obsess over the size of your member. But, as the kind of guy I’ve become, it doesn’t really matter. The cock simply isn’t a regular player anymore. The only thing I worried about was that it may not be enough to satisfy Belle. But really, the idea that I was being made smaller and less…I don’t know…prominent seemed perfectly normal. To be expected. The cock isn’t that big of a deal anymore, so why shouldn’t it be minimized in every way? I’ve even started to like the idea that a lot of guys are bigger.

Of course, I’m glad it’s not getting smaller. I’m glad it’s exactly as it was before being encased almost all the time. But I’m clearly kinking on the idea of nullification. The idea that my penis should be made superfluous and of minimal importance, figuratively and literally. It’s an odd little cul-de-sac of my sexuality I didn’t expect to find myself in. And I wonder, all those guys who say they’ve lost size due to being in devices, if it’s not all in their heads. If it’s not a combination of wanting it to be that way and, because they’ve lost touch with themselves, thinking it actually is.

So, anyway, the turbulence I wrote about the other day hasn’t entirely left. I have lost touch with myself. With my independent sexuality. I know it must still be in there, but it’s way in the back somewhere. So, without that, I need Belle’s. I need to feel sexual through her. And when I don’t, it feels like something’s been amputated. Something really important. And its loss leaves me aching and depressed. I’m not entirely sure what will become of me. On the one hand, I’m committed to this existence. I’m quite convinced that I don’t need to ever have another orgasm. On the other hand, while I can live without the orgasms, I can’t live without being sexual. It’s more than the old saying that chastity isn’t abstinence. Of course it’s not. But I really feel that a transference is taking place. I have adopted her sexuality almost entirely in the place of mine. If this turns out to be the case and if it’s permanent, I don’t know what will happen. Right now, I can feel parts of me resisting it. But there are other parts of me that want to keep going.

The other night, I was dry humping her leg and, when I would usually say something like, “God, I want to fuck you,” I said, “God, I want to feel you come.” I guess that’s a perfectly natural thing for a guy with no cock and no ability to achieve independent arousal to say. What else is there now except her pleasure and, ultimately, her orgasm?

48 free – Part 2

I look the Jail Bird off just before dinner and went to bed free. We had to wait a long time for the boy to fall asleep, though I could tell Belle was tired.

I started kissing her (once the coast was clear) and immediately got hard. I wasn’t entirely sure anything was going to happen, but assumed there’d be action since she left me out an extra night. She tasted amazing. Just the kissing was getting me going pretty good.

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“I’d rather be locked up than free now,” I admitted while nibbling on her neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The cock kept waking me up last night. Always in the way. All hard and pokey.”

“Like a kickstand?” She laughed at her joke.

“Kinda. Anyway, who needs it? Such a distraction…” Kiss, kiss. Tongue.

I know that if I were to spend all my time unlocked and freely swinging that I’d get used to that again and the device would feel weird, but that’s not where I am now. It’s been locked up pretty consistently for months and months with only a few days here and there unprotected. I’ve become accustomed to what being locked in a cage or tube feels like and, since I’m not allowed to touch or play with it anyway, prefer it locked away. More on that in a minute…

“Well, you’re going back in tomorrow morning.” Then she lifted her shirt.

I was going with the flow, not trying to lead. She had an idea of what she wanted and I tried to give it to her. I worked on her nipples while her hips gyrated in sympathy, then I moved a hand to her snatch. Eventually, her pants were off and my finger was in deep and she was coming. The cock was very hard, uninvolved and dry.

She laid perfectly still as she usually does after she comes, basking. I laid as still as I could manage. It was hard. My hips were trying to hump all on their own, though my brain was ready for anything. I would have accepted more sex or her rolling over to sleep. I actually felt, even though I was hard and horny, the normal sleepiness that comes to me after her orgasm now.

After a few silent minutes, she said, “Come on, you can take a ride.”

I immediately mounted her and put the cock inside. So warm and so wet and so fucking awesome. This is what I wanted this time around. What I couldn’t stop thinking about. Sometimes, I crave my own hand, but this time it was the soft and hot confines of Belle’s pussy. I came close to orgasm several times but was able to catch myself. After the fourth or fifth time (the interval between which getting shorter and shorter), she told me the ride was over. I slipped off and out and felt the hard cock slap wetly against my thigh. She went off to the bathroom to freshen up and I pulled on my balls and tried not to touch her cock.

As worked up as I was, the sleepiness cued by her decision that playtime was over soon fell over me. I did drift off clinging to her, pressing the still-fat cock against her, my arm up her shirt, skin on skin.

Shortly afterward, though, my eyes snapped open. I was fully awake and still horny. This isn’t unusual, either. The feeling of two warring factions in my body is a regular one now. The forces of her control against the reptile brain insurgents. This time, though, the insurgents knew the cock had been left undefended. Their time had come.

In no time, I was on my phone checking out porn and pulling on the meat. The battle was evident in my head. The little bunny voice telling me to stop was being drowned out by the lizard trying to distract me until it was too late. Finally, I got so close that a large amount of ejaculate pulsed out of the cock and got all over it and my right hand. Not an orgasm by any mean (I could tell because of how much I loved licking the sticky scream off myself), but clearly a sign that my reproductive system was in full battle readiness. I was so close to coming that I could feel it just one or two strokes away each time I grasped the shaft. Had I lingered too long on the head, I would have spewed.

The little bunny voice had grown hysterical at this point. It knew, better than I, that we were on the verge of disaster. The Jail Bird, it reminded me, was in my nightstand drawer.

PUT IT ON. PUT IT THE FUCK ON.

I retrieved the device and pulled its parts out of the black fuzzy bag. I was careful to place the locking screw in on my nightstand so I wouldn’t lose it in the sheets. I put the ring over my sore and swollen balls but had to wait a long time for the cock to deflate enough to even try to get it through. Eventually, with enough spit and pulling, it popped inside the ring only to then get even fatter due to the constricted blood flow. The cage barely fit over the cock’s head, let alone over then entire member. I waited some more. And then some more. I surfed news sites trying to take my mind off the throbbing tube of meat between my legs. Eventually, slowly, it went down enough for me to squish it into the cage. Flesh was bulging out the sides, but I mated the cage with the cuff ring’s post and the beast was finally contained.

Getting the screw in should have been tricky. I had to align the holes on both the post and the cage (in both the X and Y axis), then get the screw in – all in the dark. Somehow, though, it didn’t take any time at all. As I tightened the screw into place, I felt a calm come over me. It was done. Suddenly, I was very sleepy.

What I found trapped inside the the short, snug cage of the Jail Bird surprised me: freedom. I was free from the temptation of the unlocked cock. I was free from having to control myself. Obviously, I shouldn’t be left alone with the thing anymore, at least when I’m in that state. I knew when I was doing it that I was breaking the rules, but it took every ounce of willpower I had to stop. I was like a dog in a butcher shop, practically unable to restrain my desire for raw meat.

This morning, I handed her the JB key before I even got out of bed. I don’t think she knows I was in it all night. Well, now she does. Anyway, I’m glad to be back in…wishing again that I was out.

Hotel

I apologize in advance for the extreme length of today’s missive. I didn’t intend for it to go on and on like this, but there was too much to say!

As I mentioned the other day, Belle and I had a kid-free few days this past weekend. We celebrated by spending Friday night at a luxe downtown hotel with an on-premises spa.

We checked in and decided to grab a light dinner downstairs before retiring for the night. I had brought along a number of toys and accoutrement, but wasn’t too sure what would happen. I was locked in the Steelheart and Belle had just come the night before, so if it were any other run of the mill Friday night, nothing would have happened. I braced myself for that eventuality and had an alternate checklist of activities if she happened to fall asleep or something. I didn’t wonder if she was going to let me out because it’s a given that my normal condition is to be exactly as I was.

Back in the room, she wanted to lay on the bed and talk which was great because I like talking to her. She allowed me to go naked since it’s the state I prefer to be in when it’s an option. So there I was, naked with a big shiny thing where the dick usually is, with her snuggled under the covers in her jammies. And we talked.

At some point – and I’ll tell you right now that most of this evening is something of a blur for me so what you’re reading is my best approximation of the events – she mentioned that she planned on letting me out that night. She had already told me I would be out for the massage the next day, but as I said, I didn’t expect to be released before morning. Once she said it I knew I really wanted out. You just don’t say no to these kinds of opportunities. I expect I was not unlike an excited puppy from the time she mentioned it to the moment she let me out.

Back on the bed, now totally naked, she made it clear that I wasn’t to touch the merchandise. It was at this point that I started to get the idea that something was going to happen, though I had no idea what. She had previously said I wouldn’t come until the end of the year, but there’s a ton of stuff you can do besides that with a hard cock if you’re imaginative enough.

“What did you bring?” she asked.

I told her: the flogger, the bondage straps, nipple clamps, my collar, handcuffs (but not the key) and Mr. Darcy with his harness.

“Not Pink?” she asked, meaning her favorite vibrator.

“No, I couldn’t find it. I assumed you brought it.” It hadn’t been in it’s normal positon in my nightstand (handy for when she wants it), nor was it in hers.

I didn’t bring it,” she said. Come to think of it, we need to figure out where that went. Anyway…

“Get the clamps and your collar.” A thrill of excitement when through me. She hardly ever collars me. “And the cuffs.”

I brought the collar over to her side of the bed and kneeled and dropped my head so she could buckle it behind my neck. A low subbie thrum started inside me.

Back in bed next to her, I asked if she had ever wanted to try the nipple clamps.

“No, I don’t like pain.”

“How do you know until you try?” I asked, “Maybe you could try it just for a second on one nipple.”

She pulled her top down so her right breast was exposed and she placed the clamp gingerly onto her plump, succulent nipple.

“OWW!!!!” she said. So much for that idea.

She griped about it for another five minutes or so before attaching a clip to my left nipple. Then she strung the other through the ring on my collar and clipped it onto my right nipple. Then she pulled. And pulled and pulled. And the cock rose accordingly.

“You are so weird,” she said.

“I know,” I replied as the cock twitched and surged.

She snapped the handcuffs around my left wrist.

“You have the keys, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“You sure? Because this’ll be hard to explain during the massage tomorrow.”

She got up and got the keys to the handcuffs, showed them to me, and then placed them on her nightstand before closing the cuffs around my right wrist. They were tight, digging into me. Every movement caused them to bite harder.

Collared, clamped, and cuffed. I slipped a little deeper into my headspace. She teased me by running her fingers around the throbbing cock, over my balls (slapping them lightly) and back up to the chain connecting the clips. Pulling. I groaned. The cock flexed.

“Please touch it,” I begged.

“No.”

Whimper. Whine. I moved to kiss her, but she pulled her head away.

“Please let me kiss you. I want to kiss you.”

She moved her head back down, just close enough for my lips to graze hers, but not close enough for a real kiss.

“Please…”

She kissed me, full on the mouth, but just once and she didn’t linger, then she got up from the bed and started to rummage through my bag. She brought out the bondage stuff and strapped my ankles to each of the king-sized bed’s feet. I retained some movement, but couldn’t close my legs. Next, she started looking around the room as if she had misplaced something. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the bar and tied it over my eyes like a blindfold. I couldn’t see a thing. Then she made a little happy sound like she had discovered something she had lost. That was followed by a few metallic sounds. CLAMP CLAMP!

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Maybe I should go down to the bar and have a drink. Leave you like this to stew.”

Groan. I think she considered it. Really was thinking about it, but then I felt her get back into bed with me. She continued the teasing from before. My cock was desperate for real touching, preferably stroking, and I moved my hands down as if to oblige but she jerked them back over my head.

“No touching!”

They weren’t tied that way, but it was clear she wanted my hands up over my head or near my face.

“Please,” I begged again, “please touch it.”

“If I do, then what? What’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, please, just touch it!

“OK…”

I felt something cold and sharp on the hard shaft. It clamped down on either side of the cock and moved up and down, slowly.

“How does that feel?”

“Ungh! It hurts!”

“Hurts bad or hurts good?”

“Both!” I writhed.

I could feel the metal bite the smooth, silky skin of the shaft but also feel the internal stimulation of being stroked. I needed this so bad. Craved it. Two months since I last came, and she was jacking me off with some kind of sharp, painful metal device.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I paused. It hurt. But it also felt good. Really good.

“No.” I said quietly, then moved my hips closed to her, arching my back so she could get a better angle on the meat. What felt like sharp little teeth were biting into the stiff shaft and it hurt, but I couldn’t imagine it stopping. I was getting more than enough jacking off stimulation to hold my attention.

Occasionally, she stop the stroking and I’d feel her use whatever it was on my nuts. She’d clamp the sharp teeth round one of my nuts and squeeze. Then the other. Then back to the shaft. I could actually feel the rumblings of an orgasm, even against the pain of the metal.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Yes? Want me to stop now?”

“Oh FUCK, no. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Does it hurt?”

“YES! But I like it. I want you to jack me off.”

“You. Are. So weird.”

“I know,” I said softly, moving closer to her.

“And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

More stroking. More biting. More feeling the need to come, though I realized it was never going to get there with the level of stimulation I was getting from whatever it was she was stroking me with.

“What is that thing?”

She pulled the blind from my eyes and held the ice tongs in front of my face, snapping their little teeth together.

“Jesus Christ!”

She moved it back down to the cock and grabbed it with the little teeth.

“I thought you liked it,” she said.

“Ungh,” I replied as she stroked me some more.

She put the tongs aside and pulled off her shirt. I tried to kiss them, get my mouth on her nipples. She pushed me away.

“Not yet.”

Then she started to flog the cock and my balls. Gently, but then with some force. Not enough to damage me, but enough to get my attention. She’d slowly drag the suede lashes over the straining and, now thanks to the ice tongs, stinging meat. Then flick them across the shaft. Then the balls. Then dragging them again, seductively. Lovingly. Again and again.

“Please, will you fuck me?”

“No.”

Whine.

“Not yet, anyway.”

More flogging. More pulling on the clamps which had, by this time been on me for much longer than usual.

“I really should just leave you like this all night long. Tied up, nipples clamped.” I whined again.

“Please. Please fuck me. I don’t need to come. I just want to feel you. It’s been so long. Two months.”

“I know,” she said cooly, “That’s a long time, isn’t it?”

“Please…” was all I could muster. I wanted it so bad. Was so horny. She had played me perfectly all night, leaving me right on the edge of where pain turns to pleasure, but not going too far. I needed to feel something soft and hot and wet on her cock. I wanted her.

She took the cock in her hand. I moaned deeply. This wasn’t her pussy, it was pretty good.

“It stings.”

“Really?” and she stroked me harder.

The cock stiffened. I could feel my balls drawing up. I was getting close…

Then she stopped, leaving me bobbing in the air.

“Oh God!”

She waited, perhaps counting the beat of my heart by the bounce of the cock in midair. Then she grabbed it again and resumed the stroking.

“You want me to fuck you?” she asked.

“Oh, Jesus, yes! Please fuck me!”

“And…what’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.” And I meant it.

She made herself completely naked and climbed on top of me. She straddled my hips and moved the abused, desperate cock in position against her pussy’s lips. Then she plunged down onto it. I lost my breath, unable to breath. It felt so good. So amazing. Hot. Everything I needed it to be.

Her breasts were in my face and I tried to get her nipples in my mouth, but her motion as she fucked her cock made them hard targets.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, “Good Thumper. You know what you’re supposed to do…”

But it was too hard. I couldn’t keep hold of them. Eventually, she moved off and I slipped out with a wet smack against my stomach. She removed the clips from my nipples and twin lasers of intense pain seared into me. Unmoved, she pulled them out of my collar and tossed them aside. She picked the keys to the cuffs up off the nightstand but didn’t have a good handle on them and they fell into the hot wax of the candle.

“Fuck!” she said. Then she got the tongs and used them to fish the keys out.

Clamps and cuffs off, she put her hand over the cock again.

“Oh good, you’re still ready,” but she stroked it a few times for good measure before mounting me again.

She fucked me slowly as I sucked her tits. Her eyes closed, she was enjoying it at least as well as I was. After the initial shock, I settled in to as useful a position as possible. She may have given me what I was begging for, but now it was for her.

Best intentions aside, I said, “I’m getting close.” She slowed down. I could see her working it out in her head. Would I come or not? It had “only” been two months. After a smal rest, she’d pick up her rhythm again. I’d focus on a place far, far away, but it was so hard. The two months and the stroking, both with her hand and the ice tongs, conspired against me.

“I’m close,” I said again. What would happen? Would she roll off of me? Make me finish her in the normal way?

“Go ahead,” she said, and started to fuck me faster.

“Really?”

“Yes. Fuck me.”

And I did. I fucked her as hard and as fast as I could. Moments later, I felt it. From somewhere deep, deep inside the orgasm started to build and grow and rush forward before exploding out of me and into her. Three, four, five giant loads of semen surged out of me. I cried out at the intensity. The entire world had gone away and all there was was this feeling. My orgasm.

It finally subsided and I was left a gibbering, gooey mess. She rolled off of me and I felt two months of pent up desire ebb from my pores. Fuck, that was awesome. Even as the cock was laying against me, fat and happy, it continued to ooze its payload. Now, of course, I was repulsed by it. The slippery, foul smelling paste. While she attended to herself, I got some tissues and wiped as much of it as I could from my skin.

She got back into bed and I cleaved onto her.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Awesome. Thank you so much for that. It was so great.”

“I haven’t come yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

I started in again on her nipples and fingering her pussy. It was super slick with my ejaculate and felt wider than usual. Well-fucked. She seemed to enjoy what I was doing, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“I want you to eat me out.”

Oh, fuck. I cringed. I whimpered again. “Really?”

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked that.”

“I do, but…” I just came in there!

“Well, you should have brought Pink. Come on, cowboy, get to it,” she said as she spread her legs wide. “You said I could have anything.”

Busted. I was groaning the whole way down. I could smell it. I had already felt it. I knew it was in there still. There had been so much.

I closed my eyes figuring it’d be easier if I couldn’t see anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love pussy, but I’ve never found it to be the most appealing thing immediately after an orgasm. Regardless, I figured the band-aid approach was best. Just get it over with.

My tongue stared to lap at her clit. That would be the area of least contamination, I thought, but she liked how it felt and started to move her pussy around, guiding my licking.

“That’s a good boy,” she purred. I licked. Oh, god. I licked and lapped and reached up to her nipples, hoping she’d come so I could stop.

“Can you taste yourself?” she asked.

I grunted noncommittally. Of course I could. Fucking hell.

When she finally came, she pushed my face into her and my tongue deeper into her pussy. She clamped her legs around my head. There was no getting away. Her orgasm spasmed across my tongue and she squeezed more of my seed into my mouth on onto my face.

When she unclamped, I moved out as quickly as possible, wiping my face with my hands.

“Good job, Thumper.”

Next morning, before we went to get our 80 minute deep tissue massages (can you imagine?), she allowed me to jack off one more time and finish with an orgasm. She was in the bathroom getting ready and would occasionally look in my direction, a look of bemusement on her face.

“What?! You said I could!”

“I know…”

I tried to draw it out as long as possible. To savor the rare moment of self gratification. I came again and, just like before, it was copious. Great globs of it oozed out of me. The orgasm was half as intense as the night before, but even then, was ten times better than I used to have when they were mine.

Later, after the rubbing and the fragrant oil and the fruit juice, as we were leaving the spa, she asked if I was relaxed.

“Oh yes,” I replied, “In more ways than one.”

In thinking about this after the fact, I can easily say that night in the nice hotel when Belle Fille abused me and then fucked me and then made me eat my own seed from her was one of the top five sexual experiences of my life. I’m so, so lucky to be married to such a wonderful and caring woman.

Thank you, Belle Fille. Thank you for everything.