Tag: sex

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Übersub

Again this morning with the clear precum leaking out of me. There was a healthy glob of it collected in the end of the tube when I first got out of bed. I cleaned that out, but as I walked around I felt it dripping down my pajama-clad legs all morning. I am now cruising on a wave of sexual frustration equal to anything I’ve experienced before.

Last night, Belle allowed me to give her a foot massage. I stripped and kneeled at her feet. In that position, naked while she was clothed, exposing the chastity device to her clearly (something that I’m still occasionally self conscious about) left me feeling profoundly submissive and the device fully packed and straining. She made a few comments about how good I looked and what a nice job I was doing and that only compounded the feeling. I’ve said before I don’t have any kind of foot fetish, but when I’m in that spot and she’s in the mood she was in last night, I want to kiss and lick her feet – to worship her in that most classic of submissive positions. It was all wonderfully powerful stuff.

Then she wanted a back massage, but not the simple neck-rub-through-the-shirt variety. I was using oil on her naked back. Placing towels under her at the start and being presented with glimpses of her naked breasts made my mouth water. Running my hands over and across her oiled and fragrant skin, kneading her muscles, as I straddled her ass and the device rested in the crack of her ass…nirvana. I gave her the best massage I could, working up a sweat in the process. When she had had enough, I was floating in a sea of sub energy. I felt so relaxed, so content, so happy being there with her, serving her, giving her pleasure. She told me I was a good man and all I could say in response was that I was all hers.

Of course I was unbelievably horny. There had been a constant pressure in the tube from the moment she had me undress, but I didn’t feel any urgency about it. It’s just how I am now. I could have made my feelings known by grinding into her or whining or moaning or some other now-forbidden activity, but I didn’t do any of that. I said I was going to let go of trying to maneuver her towards sex and I have. And, it turns out, there’s a kind of zen that comes from that. It’s like enjoying a fireworks show. You ooh and aah as it comes and just lay there and enjoy the experience. That’s where I was last night: wanting her badly, but feeling no need to try to dictate what happened next.

Which, I expected, would be sleep. She had already fallen asleep earlier putting our daughter to bed and was supremely relaxed from the all the rubbing. In that ubersub headspace, I would have felt zero disappointment or resentment. All I wanted was to please her and make her know how grateful I was to have the chance to do so. But, to my surprise (twice in one week with the surprises), she pulled out Pink, the little vibe that could, and wordlessly handed it to me. I was given the opportunity to perform my third act of service of the evening.

This morning, I’m still glowing (and leaking). I am a very happy bunny and I love my Belle Fille.

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Whimpering, doggie-style

My dog hates it when Belle beats me. I’m sure he thinks that if I’m getting the crap beat out of me, then he’s next on the list. The problem he presents is twofold. We can’t leave him outside our room because he’ll want to come in and will sit out in the hall and whine, scratch, etc., eventually waking the kids. Having him in the room is problematic since he’s a major distraction. Kinda hard to really get off on being whipped when the dog is pacing around whimpering and trying to sqeeze into places too small for him. By the time she was through working her aggression out on my ass, the dog was hiding under the bed and didn’t want to come out.

“Thumper’s Choice”, for those who are curious, involved being tied to the bed on my stomach, wrists secured by handcuffs, handcuffs strapped to the headboard, ankles separately cuffed and strapped to the footboard. I could almost raise myself up on my elbows and knees. She blindfolded me, rubbed some Icy Hot on my nuts and nipples, and proceeded to flog my ass with her little toy flogger. I call it a toy because it’s just a bunch of thin rubber cords on a plastic handle. Not the most beautiful of implements, but it was what we got at the beginning of our exploration. While it looks like a toy, it definitely does not feel like one. When she gets going with it, the resulting stinging and burning can get pretty intense. Still, I’d like to get something a little sexier.

It was a longer session that usual, though I can’t tell how long. I kind get all timeless when she’s hurting me. I know it was long enough for the Icy Hot to stop burning like a motherfucker, so maybe 30 minutes? I dunno. There were times when the combination of the burning nuts and the hard, repetitive striking of my ass was nearly more than I could handle, but the times in between were heavenly. She’d lazily brush just the ends of the flogger along my spine, over my ass, and then up between my cheeks. Just when I was grooving to the gentle sweetness of it, arching my back and raising my ass into the air, I’d hear the thin rubber strands whistle through the air a microsecond before they struck me again. She’s getting pretty good at the hitting thing. She even said she enjoyed it. Says it’s cathartic. Well, baby, you can get your catharsis out on my ass whenever you want.

Afterward, she wouldn’t let me get her off. I had to wait until last night for that. She told me to give her a back and shoulder massage (with the oil) before having me use the little pink vibrator on her. Again, not good with keeping time, but she came so hard and so fast it felt like it was over before it even got started. I have to admit, I felt somewhat cheated. Seriously, it was maybe ten seconds from the time I put the vibe against her clit and the time she started to come. Through all this, she never let me get naked – not even when we went to sleep. I wanted to. A lot. But she never gave the word. This means one of two things. One, she just forgot. I can’t explain why (trust me, I just started and erased four different attempts), but simply forgetting to allow me to do this would leave me feeling a little neglected. Kinda like forgetting to feed the dog or something. Anyway, the other option is she was purposefully withholding that permission. In which case, telling me she was doing so would have felt better, as it does whenever she demonstrates her control over me.

Speaking of which, I’m still not feeling the subby vibe. In fact, I’ve been in a funk for about a week and it’s getting funkier. I’m not panicking and questioning my entire world order as I have previously when this has happened. I’ve learned over the past four months that being flooded with all these hormones and abdicating self-determination regarding my sexual satisfaction makes me emotionally vulnerable. The slightest thing can push me into the mood I’m in right now. I know it’ll work itself out shortly. At least, I hope it will.

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Marked man

I love it when Belle marks me. Whether it’s by biting me or giving me hickies or raising welts, I like to think her marks are representative of her power, control, and ownership. When she makes them, she’s leaving evidence that the body which displays them is hers, to do with what she likes, even if what she likes is to damage it. Uber hot. I get all light in the chest just writing about it. So you can imagine what I felt when she mentioned she should brand me.

Lucky bunny
Lucky bunny

That’s how I found myself laying over her legs, ass in the air, several hours later getting tickled by the tip of a black Sharpie dancing over my skin. She drew what you see to the right: a little bunny under a horseshoe with “BFR” written over it. “BFR” stands for Belle Fille Ranch which, apparently, is a rabbit ranch. That I can’t see the brand without a mirror makes it that much hotter.

I wasn’t really expecting any serious action what with her not feeling 100% and all, but once her mark was upon me, my passions were running pretty high. I was on all fours, her beneath me, and my right knee strategically placed so as to press my thigh firmly against her pussy, moving subtly as my body shifted. All I did was kiss her face and neck, but my thigh could feel the heat between her legs start to build. Her hand started to carass my inner thighs and I moaned, desperate to feel her touch higher up. She eventually did, lightly stroking my tight, constricted scrotum. Fuck, did I want that cage off. She gripped the tube of the CB6K and started to stroke it as if she was masturbating me, but that only drove my frustration higher since all she was doing was pushing and pulling the entire contraption and torturing my already strecthed balls. I found myself fighting once again the overpowering urge to bite her, to consume her, to gather her up in my arms and crush her. I knew – knew – that there would be no release for me. Instead of fighting it and causing a scene, I let the inevitability of her control wash over and calm me.

When she told me to make her come, I focused everything above her waist. I fingered and licked her nipples and kissed her mouth much longer than I would normally. I knew she wanted me to move south, to give her pussy some attention, but I stayed up north, letting her get just the slightest taste of tease and denial. I did eventually bring my hand down to her pussy, but I merely let it graze ever so lightly over her lips. Her hips squirmed and raised up, trying to make better contact with my fingers, but I kept them just close enough that she knew they were there but too far away to actually feel them. She was moaning freely.

When I finally let my fingers touch her, she was soaked and slicked with arousal. It took about two minutes to bring her to climax. When she started to come, my finger was still lightly resting on her clit. She arched her back and grabbed my hand, pressing me harder into herself, forcing my finger deeper into her pussy. The orgasm shuddered though her and I actually felt three distinct little waves of tightly focused muscle contractions move over the tips of my fingers.

Easliy one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever given her. Seriously, top three.

—

This morning, she finally released me from the CB6K. Plus, she let me have a ruined orgasm. What a kind and benevolent dictator she is!

This time, we tried the abandoned version of the ruined orgasm (as opposed to the over-stimulated version we tried before). She layed next to me, running her fingers though my chest hair and teasing my nipples and watched while I wrapped my fist around the freely hard cock. Sweet jesus, did that feel good. I had barely started and was already leaking freely.

I jacked off until I felt the first stirrings of the orgasm approaching, then pulled my hand off quickly. A tiny little dribble came out. We decided that wasn’t good enough, so I started in again. It took a lot longer to get back to that place the second time, though I had barely come. Eventually, I felt it again – the tickling, tingling sensation of impending orgasm. I gave myself maybe two or three extra strokes and this time had a fairly respectable hands-free ejaculation, though without the volume I’d have expected. Indeed, it was no orgasm. I felt none of the post-orgasmic high. No refraction. Just a few minutes later, I was still profoundly arroused. I asked her to pinch my nipple just to make sure. Oh yeah, that felt good. I was still horny as hell.

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Did I mention I was horny?

Good god, it’s been a little stuffy around here lately! Isn’t this supposed to be a sex blog?! So get on with the sex, already!

Well, we did have sex just one lonesome time this week. It was nothing I haven’t described here before (you know the drill: she abuses me a little, I make her come, we go to sleep). I continue to be amazed at how my entire being has adjusted to not having orgasms. She gets me all worked up with the biting and scratching and the general abuse and all I want to do in return is give her pleasure. Once she’s had her orgasm, I get all sleepy and a form of contentedness envelopes me. Yes, I’m still horny. Horny as hell. Twenty-four hours a fucking day I’m horny. The carnivorous butterflies have returned and I find myself clawing at the device, desperate to get my hand around an honest-to-god hard-on, but all that’s separate now from our sex. When we have sex, it’s all about her. Whatever she gives me during those times is gravy. The main course his her ecstasy. I derive satisfaction from hers.

Speaking of the device, it’s been sixteen days. She mentioned to me yesterday that she thought she was going to let me out the day before, but after a few minutes, decided not to. Just because. Just because she could. Still no indication of when my incarceration might end. I’m doing my best not to ask, but jesus am I getting claustrophobic in this thing.

It may be my best friend at the moment, though. She’s told me that I won’t have any pleasurable orgasms in March, and that’s just a week old. Did I mention I was horny? Fucking god, I’m horny. All that clawing at the device is probably a pretty good indication that, once granted access to that particular thing attached to my body, I’d be somewhat preoccupied with it. According to the Covenant, I’m not supposed to use it in a way that gives me pleasure without her approval. So, assuming I wouldn’t get that, maybe the best place for it is exactly where it is at the moment. I have will power, but no man’s perfect.

And, finally, to complicate everything and potentially cause problems with our weekend fun, Belle’s come down with something. Her throat hurts and she feels crappy. I’m pumping her full of zinc with the hopes she’ll feel better later. If not, it’ll continue to be quiet on the sex front.

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I’m fat

No, I’m not. But I feel fat. I am on the fatter side of what’s acceptable for me. I’m in the far suburbs of Fatsville. I can see the glow of it on the horizon. I am unhappy about that.

I’m six feet tall and weigh something like 215 pounds. If you saw me, you wouldn’t think I was too bad, but I’d much, much rather be at least 25 pounds lighter. Why am I telling you this? Because now it’s out there. I have to do something about it. I mean, I tell you guys everything, right? I can’t just pretend I’m a Brad Pitt look-alike and tell you all about how the wax splatters on my hard, rippling abs now, can I? Nope. I’m telling you because by doing so I’m keeping myself honest. It’s out there. I am going to lose 25 pounds.

OK, that’s out of the way.

I have been wearing the CB-6000 since the 19th of February. Twelve days. I’m pretty sure my record is thirteen, so yay for me. The thing is, the device is unbelievably comfortable now. It hasn’t woken me up in days. In fact, it feels so normal and natural that it’s starting to feel like an extension of me. I’ve totally adapted it to my life. Yes, it’s still a bit of a pain depending on what clothes I’m wearing, but there’s nothing I used to do that I can’t still do except pee standing up. Oh, and beat-off. Oh, and fuck. But besides that, the poly and I are living very well together at the moment.

So of course, it’s time to screw it up! I’ve been on the fence regarding what ring size to wear and have been in the 1.875″ ring this time around. My comfort is getting so ridiculously high that I’ve decided to finish this stint in the 1.75″ ring. Why? It’s not a lot more secure than the 1.875″ ring. It won’t be more comfortable (at least at first). I guess the best answer I have is the same mountain climbers use: because it’s there. Stay tuned for whiny missives on sleeping issues.

Belle and I tried to ruin my orgasm on Sunday morning so I could fuck her better with her cock. It all started OK, but she decided she wanted me to work on her a while before we got to me. Mistake number one. My Belle’s orgasms are not unlike freight trains. Once they get going, it’s hard to stop them or change tracks. In this case, I started working on her with my fingers. Once she was on her way, she decided I wasn’t going to stop. She wanted to come. But, she wanted me to make her come with my mouth. Super! But, after it was all said and done, the starting and stopping and thinking about it left her with a fair to middling orgasm. Not nearly as good as it could have been. Plus, there was the little issue of me, out of the device for the duration. She wanted to know if I could ruin an orgasm by fucking her. I thought I could, but really, why? She already had her go. I was just the redundant horny guy in the room who needed to put the plastic back on. Nope, she wanted me to ruin an orgasm inside her. Okey-doke, I’m on it.

Since I had such a focused purpose, hadn’t come in ten days, and knew she had already had her O, it took a remarkably short time for me to get to the place where I could spurt. I started to come, but never stopped fucking her. It was intense. The sensation coming off my head of the cock was almost off the charts, and not in a good way. I kept on going until the little soldier plopped out, all squishy and soft. I was panting and tired, but did not feel as though I came. One orgasm, perfectly ruined.

Lessons learned:

  • If she wants the cock to make her come, we need to deal with the ruined orgasm prior to touching her.
  • I would have been left with a higher level of frustration if, after the ruined O, I had to get hard again and fuck her to her orgasm.
  • I think not getting aroused again did leave me slightly less frustrated than before the ruined O. It wasn’t nearly as good as a real orgasm, but for the remainder of the day and most of the next, I could feel the difference. I got a lot of enjoyment from the quick fuck and we didn’t do anything to re-frustrate me afterward.

Of course, the other way to ruin an orgasm is to abandon it. Next time, I’d like us to experiment with that.

Reading this blog recently, you may get the idea that I don’t think we ever get anything right. Well, the past weekend was filled with mistakes and missed opportunity. That’s OK though. We need to figure this stuff out, right? Trying and failing is a far better prospect than not trying at all.

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The big pathetic mess of a post

I cleared my schedule so I could pick Belle up at the airport Thursday afternoon. It’d been three days since I had seen her and wanted some one-on-one time with her before the kids came home, etc. I was hoping for a little action but wasn’t positive I’d get any (nor did I expect to).

We unpacked from the trip and she was off doing something in the back of the house while I started writing the post of going gay. Eventually, I realized all the busy noises had ceased and that she was probably back there answering email, so I went back and nuzzled into leg while she clickity-clacked on the computer.

Even though I had been without orgasm for 19 days, I wasn’t feeling especially submissive. Hot and bothered, yes, but submissive no. It seemed as though the trip had drained all those feelings from me since we had basically zero personal time. Whatever it is that triggers that frame of mind within me, time from last emission isn’t the only factor.

In any event, I asked her if she wanted to mess up the bed a little. All the planets had aligned: I was unlocked and free, she was awake, and the kids were at school. She decided it was a good time and told me to get naked. After a little kissing, groping, etc., she said she wanted me to fuck her to orgasm. It may have been a shadow of insecurity that passed over my face, but I definitely wasn’t exude confidence. I’ve only been able to get her off that way without coming myself once this year. She had previously told me I wasn’t coming again in February (a goal I was completely committed to achieving), but I felt the odds of me being able to successfully restrain myself were low. Then, she dropped the bomb.

In fact, she did want me to come. She didn’t want me all worked up over not coming and she really wanted to get her orgasm from penetrative penile pounding. In retrospect, I should have stopped and talked this through. I was confused and a more than a little let-down that the previously stated goal of one month had been swept away so suddenly. Also, I should have pointed out that it wasn’t my concern that I couldn’t get her off with the cock, but that I couldn’t keep myself from erupting before she got her O. Seeing all this behind my eyes, she told me to suck it up and get going. This is what she wanted and she decides when I get to come, not me.

So I got to work. Again, in retrospect, I should have spent more time warming her up with my fingers before jumping right in (though in my defense, I was a little off balance with this surprise orgasm being sprung on me). With a minimum of foreplay, I climbed up and started to fuck her. It was my intention to resist my orgasm, even though she had given me permission. If by some small miracle, I got her off without coming, I was going to stop and see what she wanted me to do next. However, as expected, I lost control and came in a huge torrent. I fought it every step of the way until it happened. I maybe enjoyed three or four strokes, but kept right on going even as the head of my dick felt like it was going to implode from over stimulation. After a bit, she figured out what I was doing and told me to stop.

In short, I had failed. Again. I came (with permission) but had failed to give her the orgasm she wanted in the way she wanted it. Worse, once I stopped, my erection started to deflate rapidly so my ability to perform was basically nil. I felt terrible. Again, she told me to snap out of it and accept the fact that I did exactly what she wanted me to do, but all I could do was hide how I felt, not change it.

It’s pretty clear to me now that I’ve lost my ability to enjoy having a spontaneous orgasm. It seems I’m only able to enjoy those I know are coming and can prepare for. I’m not sure if she felt like she was doing me a favor by letting me come or if she really thought it would allow her to get what she wanted more easily, but in any event, I was left feeling stressed, unsatisfied, and ultimately a little depressed that I hadn’t achieved the one month goal. After scolding me to snap out of it, she told me to get Pink so I could finish her off. She had a pretty good ride at the end of the little vibe (at least, a really loud one).

Following this event and the last, I no longer think her goal for me of 12 orgasms in 2009 is achievable. She likes it best when I make her come with the cock. I can’t do that reliably. Desensitizing gel might help, but since it would require using a condom, I’ve never been able to find out since she hates them. And, she has thus far refused to let me experiment with a strap-on stand-in. She seems to have zero interest in that.

I feel as though our journey down this road of orgasm control has progressed so far that I really don’t ever want to go back. I can’t imagine coming every time we have sex. The weird and somewhat scary truth is, I’m not sure I even want to come. Or, more accurately, I don’t want to stop not coming. Does that make sense?

—

I wrote the above yesterday but didn’t get a chance to finish it before I talked to Belle last night. I told her what I told you – that I was unhappy with what happened on Thursday and that by saying so I wasn’t complaining or trying to assign blame or anything. It’s just what it was. She didn’t accept any blame and didn’t apologize for how it all went down (which is good – I wouldn’t have wanted her to). I told her I was worried about the 12 in ’09 goal and wasn’t sure it was achievable (at least not in a way that would allow her to experience pleasure in the way she preferred). She told me we’d figure it out. In the mean time, she’s not going to let me come until April. That’ll be a nice round 40 days from the last time I came to my next earliest opportunity.

While the prospect of not achieving orgasm for more than a month excites me, I’m still going to obsess over the fact that while she’s denying me orgasm, she’s also denying herself the pleasure of being fucked. I will continue to try as often as she’ll let me, though. I’m assuming that, with practice, I’ll get better at putting off my own climax. At least, I hope so.

Now to finish the post I started yesterday. She told me on the way home from the airport that she was going to lock me up that day. The usual mix of being excited and somewhat dissapointed that my freedom was about to end passed through me. If I had a choice, I would not have gone in, but it wasn’t my decision to make. Later that evening, I showered and trimmed and put on the device with the lock in place, but not closed since she likes to be the one to make it click. However, as I got out of the bathroom, I found her dead asleep. The long days had caught up with her. I closed the lock for her. Funny thing is, she didn’t even know I was in the thing for the first 24 hours. It wasn’t until last night that she found out I had put it on. I could have bought myself a whole extra day of freedom.

After our talk last night and her decision to keep me denied through March, I found the warm and fuzzy submissive veil fall over me. This active expression of her control combined with the physical restraint of the CB6K seemed to be enough to send me over the edge, even though I had just had an orgasm. In fact, it now seems as though orgasmic release isn’t a huge factor in how I feel with regard to being horny or submissive. There just aren’t enough of them and they’re not of high enough quality to absorb all the desire I carry around with me.

In rereading this, I realize this post has been all over the place and is probably too long. Why anyone would want to read me kvetch about all this is beyond me, but it’s nice to have a place where I can do it.

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A conundrum

The fear of death by blood loss kept me out of the device Friday night. As I said, I was fairly upset that I had, once again, done something that had forced me out of chastity prior to Belle wanting me out. I really want to play by the rules with these things and the rules state she decides, not me. She said she wouldn’t punish me since it was an accident, but I felt bad just the same. I decided to make the best of it and try to get a good night’s sleep without the usual early morning bulgefest.

At about 4:30, I woke up anyway. Not because my erection was encased in plastic but because it wasn’t. The change in sensation was enough to throw me off and there I was, as usual, awake and thinking about a boner I couldn’t do anything with. I was, however, happy to see the ‘lil gusher from the night before had been sealed and no more blood had leaked from it. Over the course of the next few hours, I tried to find a comfortable position for my big, stupid hard-on and drifted in and out of sleep.

At about 6:30 or so, we were both awake and I was nestled into her, trying not to impale her on my early morning, sex deprived firmness. We continued a conversation we started the night before about how were we feeling with where the relationship was evolving. I told her I need to find ways to serve her better. That somehow my submissive inclinations were pointing me towards needing more ways to please her and that I wanted her to help me find those ways. There was a lot of close contact and kissing and me feeling dreamily subbie. Her body, being so close, tempted me and my hands wandering all over it.

At this point, she rolled onto her back and moved her arms away from herself. I took this as a sign she wanted me to go further, though I didn’t get clarification on what she wanted. It felt a little to me like she was opening herself for me to enjoy. I can’t say why, but I sensed a tenseness in her that didn’t suggest she was really in the mood. I thought to say she didn’t need to do anything she didn’t want to, but the words never came out.

After a few moments, my mouth was on her breast and my hand was on her snatch and it really became clear she wasn’t ready. I pulled back and asked if this was what she wanted. No, not yet. Damn, I should have said something when I thought to. We held each other again and she said sometimes, that’s all she wanted. I said she should only do what she wanted and no more. I had assumed she wanted what I was doing. I should have asked and she should have said something. We came to a new understanding: I am no longer allowed to initiate sex without expressed permission. I can ask or she can offer, but I’ll never assume again. I wanted her to understand that this meant I would not try to read her or seduce her or in any way take the initiative without permission. In essence, I was finally and fully letting go of the last threads I still held of the traditional male prerogative of sexual initiation. When it came to sex, she was now fully and completely in control. She said that was exactly what she wanted.

Later in the morning, after the kids were settled with their media and food, we were back in the bedroom. Now it was time for me to make her come. Since the cock was unexpectedly available, she wanted me to fuck her with it. I told her I was worried and asked to use the desensitizing gel. No, that was no good for her because it would mean using a condom and she like to feel my skin. OK, super. I guess we’ll do it your way.

She was very ready for me. I’m not sure what it was that got her so wet (perhaps it was the thought that she now held all the cards with regard to sex), but just the act of sliding into her nearly made me shoot my load. I tried to keep most of my attention focused on her upper body and only let every third or fourth processor cycle think about what I was doing down below. I was fucking her sort of shallowly hoping that might help me keep control, but she started to move her hips counter to my thrusts and I found myself going deeper and deeper. Soon, my cock was fully engaged with her snatch and I felt the need to pull the emergency brake. A very tiny amount of my fluid spilled out, but I had stopped the orgasm.

The entire time I was trying to keep the lid on my orgasm, she kept her hips moving so that I never really stopped fucking her even though I was trying to stay still. I started in again, more slowly than before, but that caused our rhythm to be out of whack. She wanted faster and, honest to god, so did I, but if I had tried I’d lose control. She stopped me and said it was no good. She wanted me to go faster but knew if I did I’d come.

Belle’s the kind of girl that, once you start her down the path to orgasm, any deviation or delay could cause the entire trip to go bad. With that in mind, I quickly slid down her torso and pressed my mouth against her pussy. My arms were wrapped around her legs allowing my hands to pinch and play with her nipples while my tongue danced over and dove into her depths. I expected to taste my own semen, but couldn’t really make it out mixed with her juices. Eventually, she came really hard. It was a terrific orgasm for her, even though getting there had been a little messy.

I had moved back up her body so I could kiss her while she basked in her afterglow. I could feel my still wet, chilly dick slap fatly against her invitingly warm pussy. After giving her a respectful amount of basking time, I asked if I could go back inside her. She said yes and I slid in the best I could without a full erection. She was everything I knew she would be: warm, wet, amazing. It was a supremely indulgent moment and I simply enjoyed being enveloped by her. After a few moments of this bliss, she started biting and sucking on my neck in the way that makes my knees wobbly. I experienced the unusual sensation of becoming fully erect while motionless and inside her. Jesus, the biting felt good. I told her to bite harder. Harder. Oh fuck, harder! She pulled away, leaving me panting and spent (and with two giant monkey bites on each shoulder). I rolled off, hard yet satisfied.

So now we’re left with a conundrum. She likes it best when it’s my cock that makes her come. However, she won’t let me use the numbing gel since that would mean I’d need to use a rubber and she wants to feel my skin. As I have gone on and on about, I’d really like to use a strap on with her, but no dice. She want to feel me. I’ve tried to say it will be me since I’ll be doing the fucking, but she’s not interested (damn it). All she wants is my naked, hard cock but that’s the one thing I can’t use in the way she wants me to. I have no solution. Unless she’ll allow us to experiment with other options, I’m not sure what to do. I want her to be as fully satisfied as possible but am physically incapable of doing so while maintaining her control over my orgasm. Maybe with time and practice I’ll develop the technique necessary to become the lover she needs.

After the sex, I cleaned up and she locked me back into the CB-6000. That’s where I am now, way, way more frustrated and turned-on than I’ve ever been after only a single week denied. She still hasn’t told me when I’ll be released from the cage, though she knows the date. She has no idea when I’ll come again, so I’m operating under the assumption that it won’t be before we get back from our trip – two more weeks minimum. Since I only get nine more orgasms this year, it’s entirely possible I won’t come again until March.

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To O or no

I woke up Saturday, the day I would be allowed to come, deeply, deeply horny. More, I think, than I’ve been so far in the four months or so in which Belle’s been denying me orgasms. I spooned into the her still-sleeping form, doing my best not to wake her in that poky, annoying, denied male way, but did, in fact, place a hard, protruding, poky piece of meat between us. My first instinct was to be the eighth dwarf (Gropey), but give myself credit that she more or less woke up on her own. It wasn’t that I thought she was going to give it to me right then, but the day had dawned, and every little part of me knew today’s the day.

She had a little surprise for me. I was to be the beneficiary of her special, 24-hour, two-for-one orgasm sale! She was going to let me get one in the morning, and another in the evening. Holy. Shit.

Of course, even when I get to come, I come last. This time, Belle wanted to get her orgasm from the cock. Any time she has me put my dick in her after a couple of weeks of denial, I get worried. I placed myself in the zone and focused on her experience as much as possible. I could feel myself slide in and out of her, but in trying to ensure her orgasm came first, it didn’t feel like fucking as much as a side effect of making her happy. It’s hard to explain, but the sensation seemed to be routing through a different set of neurons or something. In any event, I was miles from coming when she started to approach her own orgasm. As usual, her peaking excitement caused mine to start to rise. She started to make shallow, short little moans and raise her hips to meet the thrusting of mine and I suddenly felt myself coming at the same time she was. Instead of thinking, “Oh, cool! We’re coming at the same time!” I thought, “Oh shit, I’m coming and she’s not done yet!” My orgasm started, but I clamped down on it as soon as I felt it. Once she was done, it was my turn, and I immediately felt the dregs of my orgasm come spilling out.

I couldn’t even tell at first if I had come. I eventually decided I had, though poorly, based on how I felt. Beforehand, I had been craving some abuse and feeling very submissive, but I could sense that those feelings were somewhat lessened. The idea of being hurt didn’t turn me on as much and I definitely felt a shift in my submissiveness. So, yeah, I came, but it was a really crappy orgasm.

Belle told me afterward that she knew I was going to screw it up (her exact words) which is why she offered the two-for-one. She wanted me to have a good orgasm and suspected correctly that my first crack at it would suck.

Night came and I was ready for the main event. This time, her orgasm was achieved a little differently. She wanted me to finger her but, before I could get there, she started to finger herself. I was working her tits while she was working her clit. Feeling left out, I started to fuck her with my fingers. Using this cooperative finger-fuck method, she came quietly yet hard. One of her more intense orgasms.

My turn started and I could tell I was already in the wrong frame of mine. I had a hard time staying hard. She was doing her best with scratching and pinching and hair pulling, but it was all having the opposite effect of what she intended. Eventually, I became too flaccid to stay in her and had to roll off and take a little break. After a bit of stroking I was able to get back in the saddle. She focused more on my nipples this time and that really worked for me. My orgasm, when it finally came, was almost feminine. Instead of spiking like a big exclamation point, it built slowly and evenly over an extended period. I started breathing harder and faster as I felt it get closer. Once I started, it felt like I just kept shooting wave after wave into her. So much so, that it spilled out of her and backed-up all over me. This was it. The kind of head-exploding orgasm that makes all the denial and frustration pay off.

These two experiences make me think I have a wiring problem. Well, not so much a problem as much a need to relearn how to come. My denial has trained me to stifle my “natural” need to orgasm each time I have sex to such an extent that I seem to be shying away from coming even when I’m allowed to do so. I need to figure out how, when she’s given me the green light, to allow myself to reroute to the old circuits and just enjoy it.

It also makes me think this behavior might have something to do with all the stories about extended chastity causing erectile dysfunction. While I haven’t been locked-up for a few weeks (but will be by the end of today), the same kind of dynamics are in play. No orgasm, no opportunity to orgasm, and, in effect, positive reinforcement for not orgasming. I’m not at all surprised that I’m experiencing these issues since my brain is by far the largest, most complicated, and most important sexual organ I have. I can see how what’s happened to me could happen to others and lead them to think that they’re dealing with physical damage rather than the manifestation of a psychophysical issue.

In any event, I came! WOO-HOO! Last night’s was one of the best orgasms I’ve had, like, ever. Belle will lock me up sometime today and hasn’t decided how long I’ll be in. According to our covenant, I need to be locked up for half the year and have so far only seen the inside of the polycarbonate for 12 days in 2009, so I expect at least a few weeks. If I was to guess, I’d say at least until after she’s had her period. Also, she reminded me I only get to enjoy nine more orgasms this year. Divide nine by eleven and you’ll find I will have to go for more than a month a couple of times.

Plenty of time to experiment with with the wiring.

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An ocean of her

Oh, what a night. And forgive me if this one’s a little all over the place, because the evening was, too.

So it starts out with me telling Belle that the “other woman” contacted me via IM. I have agreed to always tell Belle when this happens since, as should be pretty obvious, my cheating on her has put certain trust issues between us. O.W. IMed me on Tuesday and I forgot to tell Belle until last night. Sometimes I forget, but I always dread it because it’s an opportunity to dredge up the silt from the floor of our relationship.

I can hear you saying to yourself, why the fuck do you have any contact with O.W.? Just cut her off. The issue is, I met her through my involvement with a wildlife non-profit which we are both still associated with. I have chosen not to do anything that could potentially damage her standing within this group (or, of course, mine). It’s made up of a lot of fairly conservative folks and an extramarital affair would be very serious to most of them. Our history is not known to more than just a few of the group and there are occasions when, due to the group’s activities, we need to communicate.

Anyway, Belle knows I’m with her for good and we’ve figured out all the things that led to the affair and have successfully addressed them. I am now more fully committed and closer to her than I have ever been, as evidenced by my ability to draw out my kinky side with her. She knows this. But of course, it’s difficult for Belle to deal with these instances where O.W. appears uninvited in our lives. Last night was no different. She cried, I cried, things I did that make me cringe and feel incredible guilt are dragged back out from under the bed. It was an all-around no-fun time.

However, it didn’t end that way. Prior to all the drama, it had been a great night. I made dinner, did all the cleaning, and Belle relaxed and sipped wine. I rubbed her neck, she read the blog, we talked a little about it. It was all heading in a good direction. I desperately wanted her to be in a mood that would allow me to go down on her. I’m at about two weeks denied at this point and I find, as I’ve written before, that my reptilian brain starts plotting ways to consume her. Last night, I wanted desperately to bury my face in her pussy. No, I mean REALLY. I wanted to cover myself with her scent.

I totally saw from a mile off that we were definitely not heading in that direction. In the past, I would have gotten mad or overly frustrated by this, but not now. I still tentatively made the offer of orgasm, but she rebuffed as expected. I was over the top horny, but accepted it as part and parcel of the position I want to hold in our sexual relationship.

I was able, though, to talk to her about us, rather than O.W. and us. I wanted to go over the whole “is she enjoying/getting something out of our sex” thing. She says she’s not doing anything she doesn’t like and likes some things better than others, but to ask what she needs more of or differently is a bit premature. I’m totally cool with that and don’t want to rush her in anyway. I built-up my courage and asked her if she enjoyed the other night with the ice. Did she enjoy, in any way, hurting me? In fact, she said she did get some cruel pleasure from ripping the clothespins off my nipples. Seriously! I was over the moon happy to hear that. It was wonderfully cruel and hurt like fuck and she liked doing it! It’s like I won the lottery. After she said that, I started craving more pain. It was almost like craving sex. I wanted to get slapped or whipped across my ass with a belt or something. I offered a couple of times that if she wanted to take her frustration over O.W. out of my hide, she was more than welcome to it. No dice (and probably not a good precedent, anyway).

So on that high note, we turned off the light. I stripped (as she instructed) and spooned into her. I asked if she had thought about when I was going to come next. She paused for a while, as if unsure she should tell me, but eventually said I was going to come on Saturday. The cock jumped. I asked her if she knew when I was going to be locked up again. She paused again. Yes, immediately after coming. The cock did more than jump. I pressed my hardness into her.

Wanting her to understand better my desire (and, perhaps, to try to make her feel better following the emotional thrill-ride of the previous hour), I told her that I was profoundly horny and deeply frustrated, but instead of some free-floating need to fuck, it was entirely focused on her like a magnifying glass over an ant hill. I wasn’t just horny. Porn, for example, would not do it for me. It had to be her, specifically. That’s what I craved. She turned over and faced me in the dark. Hmm, I thought. That was unexpected. I continued to tell her that I thought she was beautiful, fucking hot, and was really turning me on. I let my hand wander over her body, down her pajama bottoms, over her ass…and she said nothing. I continued, thinking it was surely a trap – I would probably end with nothing and I braced myself to accept it properly and without resentment. I kept talking. I said that thoughts of her punctuated my day, that I couldn’t get her out of my mind, how badly I wanted to bite every part of her, how desperately I wanted to take her in my arms and pleasure her in every way.

At this point, I was squirming, crushing my hard cock into the bed, and pawing her like a bear cub. My desire was running high and on display. She wasn’t saying no, but she wasn’t saying yes either. I asked her, can I pleasure you? Yes, I could.

I dove under the covers and pressed my face into her midriff. I lifted her top and suckled her breast while my hand went between her legs and felt her heat. My male animal lust started to rise and I had to fight to keep myself gentle and tender. I wanted to eat her alive. Her pussy was too tempting and I found my face pressed against the fabric of her crotch, inhaling deeply. I actually bit her mound before getting back under control, but it wasn’t very hard and I don’t think she felt it. I pulled down her bottoms and planted my face over her hot, wet snatch.

Oh. My. God.

I was on all fours, parallel to her body, head down in an ocean of her. Her smell, her juices, her soft and tender flesh. I rubbed my face all around getting soaked and feeling her juices run up my inverted nose. My tongue dove deeply into her then flitted over her clit like a hummingbird, back and forth, over and across, again and again. The entire world ceased to exist and all there ever was or would be was HER. I lost myself in it all. It seemed to go on and on, but was over all too quickly. Suddenly, her thighs closed in on my head. She was pressing her pussy against my mouth and clamping onto me. I couldn’t hear anything, but felt her hips buck in rythm with the pulsing of her orgasm on my tongue.

Afterward, I came up for air and she laid there, as if lifeless. My cock was raging, straining but I was feeling her reflected afterglow and all was good.

So now I know I’m coming on Saturday. For a brief moment, I was deflated it was so soon, but that didn’t last long. Now, right now, I want to come badly. I want to come in her, on her – I don’t care. I just want it so bad.

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Static charge

Dev posted this yesterday:

…I worry that when we don’t have sex, orgasm denial becomes more like orgasm neglect.  Since Jos only comes with me these days, I start to feel like a vanilla girlfriend who agrees to put her boyfriend in chastity and then forgets about it completely.  “You can’t have an orgasm” is sexy.  “I don’t care” is not.

This nicely ties back to what I last posted, so I thought I’d give it a shout-out here. The rest of her entry is great, so check it out.

So after I wrote my previous post, I mentioned to Belle that I needed to do some naked stuff with her and, thankfully, she was thinking the same thing. We stripped and rolled around and eventually she told me to use the cock on her. She was worried about how it’d feel since the issue with the piercing was so recent, but I can report that once in, I felt no pain whatsoever. This is interesting since I can get the occasional twinge from just walking around or sitting down, but actually thrusting it into an enclosed space was fine. Weird.

She’s settled into wanting me to fuck her from above. Earlier in our relationship, she couldn’t come this way, but for some reason she can now and favors it over riding me. That’s great for her, but it’s a whole lot harder controlling my orgasm when I’m doing the fucking. I had warmed her up a bit beforehand, so it didn’t take too long before she was getting close. I was feeling the oncoming storm as well, but felt she was a little ahead of me so wasn’t too worried. I just kept sucking her tits and thinking about baseball (no, seriously – baseball) while trying to read her signals.

It was all going great until she started talking. She was saying how great her cock felt and how good I was at using it on her. That kind of thing. Over and over. My brain, being the biggest and most sensitive erogenous zone on my body, soaked this talk up like a sponge and I quickly found all thoughts of green baseball diamonds leaving my head. Suddenly, I was about to come and had to stop. I froze and tried to bear down to keep myself from doing it . She was still talking, but I was entirely focused on keeping the Rube Goldberg-esque orgasm mechanism from kicking in. Just as I felt myself getting the upper hand, I realized what she was saying was, “FUCK ME” over and over. I had to keep going.

What came next was very strange. I started fucking her again and she quickly started to come. I felt myself squirt into her, but I’m not sure if it was what locked and loaded from skirting the previous orgasmic edge or if I was actually coming. There was some intensity to the leakage that seemed related to orgasm, but it wasn’t the same. A few moments after she came, I knew I hadn’t because of how I felt. I still wanted to fuck, badly. I wasn’t floating in that post-orgasmic lethargy. The urge to bite her was strong. No, I hadn’t had a real orgasm. But what was it? An abandoned orgasm? A ruined orgasm? No idea. But it wasn’t a real orgasm, and that’s all that counts since I did not have permission to have one.

Last night, Belle was out to dinner with a friend and I was left at home. I was in bed absentmindedly fingering the ring going through the cock and felt it start to respond. I wasn’t trying to play with myself, but that’s eventually what happened. I really like the sensation of the loose remainder of my foreskin sliding up and over the metal. It’s fucking great. Personally, that sensation is better for me than how it feels when fucking. In any event, I brought myself to the edge several times. Deliciously close. Not so close that I leaked, but pretty damned close. I tried to stay awake, but I couldn’t and fell asleep before Belle got home. Now, as I’m writing this, I’m feeling hornier than I have in many days. It’s good to have that current running through me again. If Belle’ll have me, I’ll zap her with it tonight.