So that’s me, back in the cage. Big surprise. I turned myself in, Dear Reader. Just threw myself on Graham’s mercy as soon as he walked in the door because I’m honorable like that and can take responsibility for my fuck ups.
Yeah, OK, that computer-spy thing was going to rat me out anyway, so I figured I might as well get it over with.
Graham stuffed me back into my metal prison and that was it. We actually had kind of a nice night, no yelling or sulking. I don’t love this thing, but if it gives him a way to punish me where it doesn’t ruin our whole evening together, then I guess I’m in favor of it, even though, fuck, I’m dying to have the thing off at this point.
Last week, Graham put the cage on before he left for work and took it off when he got home, so that’s ten hours, maybe twelve (poor baby works way too hard), but this time he put it on last night and DID NOT TAKE IT OFF.
Meaning, I slept in it (hello, morning woody), showered in it (the cage isn’t solid, so it felt like I got my dick all sudsy but I couldn’t really get at it, if you know what I mean), went to work in it (that fucking perv Isaac knew it too; I’m telling you, that thing reads), and now I’m home again waiting for Graham to get here and it’s been nearly twenty-four fucking hours and I want it off!!!!
I’m not even watching porn, because my mind is laying down a track featuring me and Graham that’s hot enough to put anything on the internet to shame. Which is killing me.
Here’s what it’s like to get horny in a cage. I know I said the cage was in the shape of a less-endowed limp dick but, uh, if I’m being honest here I don’t quite fill it out when I’m completely soft. There’s a wee bit of room to grow.
So the first thing that happens when I get horny, is I fill the cage. The next thing that happens is I overfill the cage. Bits of dick meat pop out between the bars and when no more can squeeze out that way, my erection backs up into my torso, which pushes the retaining ring around my balls away from my body.
All of which hurts.
In a kind of good way? And in a kind of horrible way because I want my erection! And Graham’s not letting me have it and his denial of my basic manly right to get hard is causing me pain and all of that just makes me so fucking horny, so I pull at my balls and rub my hand all over the cage and I get brushes of sensation but there’s this total disconnect between the arousal inside of me and the actual outward reality that really fucks with my brain.
It feels like I have an erection everywhere except where it counts, like the blood that belongs in my dick is pounding through me from my hair follicles to my tingly toes. Like just touch me anywhere and I’ll go off, except I don’t go off. I can’t.
And so I’m sitting here waiting for Graham, playing the tape through in my mind, how I’ll greet him at the door wearing nothing but my cage, because the cage gets him fucking hard. Don’t think I don’t see his true reason for locking me up, never mind “discipline” blah blah, “your behavior” blah blah. The cage gets him hard.
So there’s me, naked except the cage, and there’s him, done up like he’s an Armani model. I’ll undo his tie, all seductive-like, wrap it around his neck and use it to shimmy up against him, unbutton his shirt but maybe not take it off, just drop to my knees and lower his zipper and choke myself on that big fat cock.
Maybe call him Sir, do that looking up through my eyelashes thing, get him good and worked up until he’s ready to burst, then pull off him and I know what happens next. A really good fuck is what happens next. Make-up sex, cage-free sex. Call it what you want, it’s going to be so fucking good.
Please come home, please come home, please come home. Arrgh!!
Yeah, so that’s not exactly what happened. Some of it happened. I did the door thing and the strip-tease thing, then moved on to the blowjob thing, complete with Sir and puppy dog eyes.
Graham was way hot for it and I was as hard as this fucking cage will let me get and when I pulled off him, he threw me right over the back of the couch, as predicted (man, I love over-the-couch sex). I had lube all set out ’cause I’m a right, regular Boy Scout that way, and he wasted no time getting me prepped, and by “wasted no time” I mean that he really spent like no fucking time on it, but that was OK because it meant I got the full stretch-and-burn when he shoved his monster into me.
So all of that happened. But the part that didn’t happen? The part where he took my cage off first.
He was deep into me before I even realized it because everything was feeling so good, so right, so hot, like those early days. But once he got into a heavy rhythm, I reached down to take my cock in hand and … there was a cage around it.
I wasn’t hard. I was hot, but I wasn’t hard. And I’d never felt him so clearly before. Like, every ridge, every motion. His hands on my hips, his ballsack swinging against the back of my legs, the brush of his cock head over my prostate, and the wide way he stretched my sphincter.
I could hear him, too. I must drown him out normally, I guess, because I never really realized he makes noise when he’s fucking me. Just these little groany exhales of exertion and pleasure. Super hot.
He was loving fucking me, really loving it, and I was loving it too. I couldn’t get off but I could enjoy him getting off in a way I never had before and it was mad turning me on with the whole-body arousal I was talking about before, like I was coming from every thrust even though my pleasure never peaked. It just hung there, suspended on his, like his orgasm was the only thing that mattered.
When he was right there, ready to pop, he went to pull out, like I always told him to, but I reached behind me and grabbed at his thigh and pulled him in even deeper and when I felt him flood into me, it was almost like I released too. I don’t think I’d ever been so turned on.
I turned around and dropped to my knees and sucked his dick back down. I couldn’t even help it. I needed every drop of his come. Needed it. And he tasted like me and like him and I looked up at him and told him I loved him and he looked down and told me too.
“I love you, Allie.”
I popped up and kissed him, really drowning him, just so, so hot and horny and loving him and I’m all like “Graham?” and I’m like “You’re going to take this off and make me come now, right?” And he said, “Not tonight.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “If you’re good. Now what’s for dinner?”
What’s for dinner. He just fucked me. And came. And my dick is in a cage. And he asks me what’s for dinner.
I made him dinner.
Hey, fuck you. You think you’d be so tough? I love him, OK? And he has my dick in a fucking cage, so I fucking made him dinner and I’ll fucking do it again tomorrow if that’s what it takes. Because, don’t laugh, OK? But when he said he loved me tonight? I really believed him.
I’m not always such an easy guy to love, but somehow Graham’s figured out how to do it.