Well, it's taken more than a few days to get back to you. Sometimes real life really does get in the way. But I promised you a true story of the ultimate in tease and denial so here it is. First, you will recall if you've been reading my blog that my wife and I play a game of chance with a sack, seven black marbles and one white marble. She selects a marble every other day in the evening during a "drawing ceremony." A black marble means no orgasm for me; a white one means I will get permission to cum sometime in the next five days - at a time, place and method of her choosing. We have been doing this for about nine months with certain variations.
My faithful readers also know that early in the game, my wife doctored the white marble with some kind of clear material (clear nail polish?) in streaks so she can feel the texture of it and easily distinguish it from the smooth black ones. Of course, I kept my knowledge of this a secret since it accomplished what I've wanted all along - for my wife to take charge of my orgasms. If she needed the cover of a game of chance, so be it.
Since we removed the black marble from the sack each time she picked one, my odds would improve with each drawing ceremony. Of course, I knew that odds had nothing to do with the results since she doctored the white marble but it was the cover story so I stuck with it. Well, during this cycle of the game (a cycle is the period after my last orgasm), I seemed to be having an unusually bad run of luck. If you do the math, the maximum time between orgasms for me should be twenty-one days (two days for each marble if she selects seven black marbles in a row before she gets to the white marble plus the five days of discretion she has to name the time and place in which I get to cum). In the past, a couple of times I had gone as long as eighteen days between orgasms. I was wound pretty tightly by the time I got to day eighteen, but the extended foreplay and eventual explosion was so exquisitely and intensely pleasurable that it was well worth the wait.
This time around, I was on day twenty-two of chastity. How is that possible with the number of marbles we used? Simple, skip a drawing ceremony a few times as we did this time because of travel to relatives or physical separation when I was away overnight on business. Our rule when a drawing ceremony is missed is we go on to the next one without any make-ups. On this cycle, my wife had finally drawn a white marble on day twenty and had me wait two days after that for my opportunity.
It had been an interesting cycle. I think she was testing me, seeing if she could extend the time between orgasms for me while still enjoying orgasms for herself (she'd had two during those twenty-two days -both times during a "Lady's Night," a regular event we have in which she is the complete focus of my attention; it starts with an hour long full body massage and finishes with a happy ending for her courtesy of my fingers, tongue and her wand vibrator). She seemed to be testing me to see how short, touchy and grouchy I would get without an orgasm.
Well, I'm sure I passed the test since she announced early in the day that this was going to be my night. I thought there was a possibility of tease here since she still had three days of leeway but her tone was sincere and I believed her. Our "date" was set for late that night in our bedroom after our child was soundly asleep. It wasn't an ideal situation. We often did our intense, extended sexual play, if we were home, in the afternoon. I worked at home and she is home from her part-time job at noon. There is also something so deliciously wicked about an afternoon tryst.
The evening started out well. My wife's mood was really upbeat and after our child went to bed we popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and settled in to watch a movie on TV. I preferred red wine so I had a glass from an already open bottle. The movie lasted two hours, during which we had some pretzels and popcorn. My wife kept motioning for me to refill her glass, something that was unusual. It was a weekday, with work the next day she generally stopped after a single glass; but not this night.
About fifteen minutes before the movie ended, I had finished my second glass and refilled my wife's glass again. To the surprise of both of us, the bottle emptied before her glass was half filled. We looked at each other in astonishment. She had drunk the entire bottle. At one hundred and twenty-two pounds, my wife should have been falling down drunk by then. But she wasn't. Maybe it was the snacks that absorbed it but she was playfully high instead of asleep.
To myself, I thanked my good fortune as she slipped her stockinged leg over my crotch and started to rub against the hard plastic of my chastity device. Oh, did I fail to mention that during those twenty-two days I was continuously in my CB-6000s chastity device except for a few minutes every third day in which I removed and thoroughly cleaned it and me. I showered twice daily in the device but even using the cleaning swabs and lots of anti-bacterial soap, it never does get completely clean when I'm wearing it.
She swung her leg over and around my waist and sat on my lap, in cowgirl position and rubbed her butt against my plastic covered dick. I absorbed the tongue of her deep French kiss in my mouth. My heart was pounding. I was feeling a little dizzy - a combination of wine and tightly wound lust. After several more minutes of intense necking, grinding and bumping, she stood up, took me by the hand and just smiled at me like an experienced cougar would smile before escorting a college kid to her bedroom.
In the bedroom, our bed was made up with our special, rubber lined sheet which prevented silicon lube from staining our good sheets and mattress pad. I had laid out the lotions, toys and, of course, her special wand vibrator. She was in my arms, our tongues entwined when she either pushed me or we just lost our balance. In either case, I went down suddenly, hitting the mattress flat on my back, my wife falling on top of me, laughing uproariously. I was laughing along with her but the laughing stopped when she locked onto my eyes with hers (which were now barely opened slits) and slid her hand down between our bodies until she found my hardness straining valiantly to break out of its plastic confines. My shorts were already off and she had wriggled out of her silk robe. She had on a black teddy, crotchless panties and black, nylon stockings.
With all of the French kisses, bumping and grinding against my crotch and the breathtaking sexiness of my wife in this lingerie, I was engorged to the maximum extent allowed by the chastity device. Those of you who use trapped ball devices like the CB series know what that means. The growing, expanding dick pulls the testicle ring away from the body, in my case more than two inches, creating a cartoonishly distorted, stretched effect. The trapped balls are pressed tightly against the ring - very tightly; to the point that there is some pain (and, I must admit, pleasure) from the pressured testicles with the promise of much more pain if even the slightest additional pressure is applied that squeezes them against the unyielding, hard, plastic ring.
In the past, my wife would comment on the somewhat grotesque sight with a question of genuine concern about whether I was in pain. I had always told her manfully that I was not so as not to make her even more skittish about playing with me when I was locked up. This time though there was no comment or question of concern. She just looked at it, smiled and said "Poor baby," in just the right tone of mocking voice. She added, "Did I do that?" I didn't get a chance to answer before she grabbed me roughly around the swollen base of my shaft between my pubic mound and the testicle ring. She wagged my purple, distended genitals at me and said:
"I'm not sure this is coming out to play tonight unless you're good. . . . very,very good," heavily emphasizing the second "very."
I smiled at her as though it was making a joke. She didn't smile back at me. Before I could say anything in reply (actually, nothing profound or witty really occurred to me), she released my cock and balls and slid up my body until her bottom was resting on my chest and her knees were pressed against my shoulders. She looked down at me as she slowly ran the middle finger of her left hand along the crevice of her engorging pussy, sighing and then moaning loudly as she reached the top of her slit, circling her clit. She grabbed the wand vibrator with her other hand and then lifted her butt off my chest, relieving some of the pressure on me there (even as light as she is, seated on my chest, I found it difficult to breathe). As quickly as the pressure on my chest was relieved, it redoubled on my shoulders as all of her weight shifted to them as she rose up.
There was now space to fit the head of the buzzing vibrator, still fairly quiet on the first setting. The action of her rising up also thrust her pussy towards me. I couldn't reach her with my tongue since the pressure of her knees on my shoulders kept me from sliding further under her. I couldn't reach her with my fingers, my arms, trapped as they were on the outside of her kneeling legs. I could only watch her writhing body towering above me, hear her moans mixed with the buzzing of the vibrator and take in the powerful, musky scent of her aroused pussy as she thrust it at me.
She was putting on a show for me; an incredible, one woman sexual extravaganza for a "captive" audience of one, me. Her moans of pleasure got louder when she clicked the vibrator's speed up to the second setting. In the past, she would immediately push her aroused pussy over my nose and mouth and have me lick her while she brought herself to a crashing orgasm with the vibrator. This time I had to wait my turn. She was determined to put on a show for me first. Every once in a while she would glance back at my throbbing, trapped member, look back down at me and smile. A couple of times she reached back with her free hand and roughly grabbed me. Once her hand came down hard on my trapped, pressure strained balls and it hurt. I tried mightily not to show it.
After about ten minutes of this, she was ready to finish. Her pussy lips were engorged with blood and spread open like the petals of a flower, revealing the deep coral pink of her tunnel and inner lips. The tip of her clit had receded back into its protective hood - a sure sign that she was on the edge, ready to cum. Now, my wife generally likes something in her when she cums - something to squeeze with her PC muscles - she's mentioned that it heightens the intensity for her. Seeing her condition and knowing this, I didn't need any direction when she suddenly shifted forward on her knees until the bottom of her wet pussy slit was resting on my lower lip.
She tensed immediately and jerked upward as my tongue plunged into her tunnel. She immediately kicked the vibrator up to its third speed of the four it has; she rarely gets to the fourth speed. At that moment, I couldn't imagine anything louder or more powerful pressed up against the underside of my nose. I fought to tilt my head back and slide further down under her to get away from the vibrator's painful contact; succeeding in getting a little space, I went to work on her pussy with my tongue. I know exactly how she likes it - tongue plunging in and out with random licks and swipes along the opening of her tunnel and inner lips. I rarely could get close to her clit - that was reserved for her vibrator and it was no different that night.
She came in a sudden jerk of her body followed by three jagged gasps for air before seeming to lose all control of her body as she jerked and spasmed like an epileptic in seizure, the moans of pleasure and shouts of "Oh God," filling the room. I feasted on her juices as her clit suddenly became too sensitive for the vibrator, or any touch for that matter. She collapsed on top of me, her inner thighs pressed tightly against my cheeks.
After several minutes of having her wrapped around my face in fetal position, she roused and slid down my body, moving all the way down to my incredibly swollen and purple cock and balls. She looked down at it, gripped them with her right hand and looked back up at me.
"Okay, it can come out and play but you've got to be fast." She glanced over at the clock on my nightstand. "It's 12:30 already and we've got to get up early you know."
"Okay, Okay," I said. " I'll be fast. I promise."
"Okay, take it off," she said.
She didn't need to say that twice. I scrambled to my nightstand drawer, pulled out the small scissors and cut the fifty cent plastic lock holding me trapped in the plastic container. I began using plastic locks a few months ago when it became clear that my wife would not wear the key for the lock on my device - even when hidden in a beautiful silver locket I had bought her, suitably engraved. She handed me the scissor (she was still squeamish about taking the device off, never mind putting it on me.). I had the lock off in a second; the device off in less than ten seconds.
She poured the silicon lube in the palm of her hand and waited for me as I crawled back to the center of the bed and lay on my back. Kneeling between my legs, she reached out with her lubricated palm and took a firm grip of my shaft just below the flare of my glans. She did one slow stroke, down and up and then stopped looking back up at me. That first hand stroke of my shaft after I've been locked up for awhile is so intensely pleasurable that I usually moan loudly and shake. This time was no different. My body tingled all over, goose bumps rose all over me as this sudden rush of pleasure-heat expanded out from my groin until it encompassed my entire body. My wife loves to watch this reaction and she did that night.
But, she was clearly in a hurry so after only a dozen or so strokes of my shaft, she climbed back over me, dick still in her gripping hand, and straddled my hips. She rose up on her knees and then guided the head of my cock to her opening. She paused there for a moment and smiled at me as she held me there, less than an inch from Nirvana. She rubbed the head up and down her slit twice before lining the head of my dick up with the opening to her tunnel and then slowly lowered herself down, impaling herself on me. She let out an audible "Ahhhhhhh," as I sank into her.
As great as the feeling is of the first hand stroke on my shaft after a long imprisonment, it doesn't compare to the feeling of intense pleasure and bliss at the first penetration of her velvety soft, hot, wet, tight tunnel. My wife is in her fifties (as am I), but she has never lost the incredible tightness of her pussy. Maybe she does Keegle exercises, who knows? Who cares? Short of that exquisitely intense feeling at the moment of orgasm, this feeling of pleasure was as good as it gets. I let out a loud "Ahhhhhhhhhh" along with hers and paused, waiting for the magic words.
She had told me I could take off the chastity device but so far, she had not given me permission to cum. To preserve the possibility of a massive tease and denial, our rules call for her to explicitly tell me I can cum. Until she does, if she says nothing, the default is that I can't. My wife often forgets or frankly, to be honest, pays very little attention to the rules unless I bring them up, but still I waited. She looked up at me quizzically when I remained still; she had expected me to be pumping madly away at this point.
"Can I cum," I asked her.
She looked back down at me and paused a moment. I think she had a fleeting idea of saying "No, - this was all a tease,"
But she didn't. Instead she said the three magic words I had been longing to hear all night:
"You can cum."
My smile was ear to ear as I began thrusting, using my hands wrapped tightly on her hips to guide and control the pace. She smiled back and greedily reached over and picked up the wand vibrator, clicked it on and brought it to her clit. A loud moan of pleasure came from her widely open mouth, chin tilted up as she seemed to be looking up at the heavens.
Now the Holy Grail for my wife in the realm of sex is the elusive simultaneous orgasm. As many times as she has tried it, we've succeeded perhaps a half dozen times in twenty years of marriage. Personally, I couldn't care less whether it's simultaneous, or she cums first, or I do, except it seems to really make her happy when it happens so I try to make it work. Of course, as every man knows, particularly those men in late middle age, the more you try to time an orgasm, the harder it is to have one. I have no difficulty delaying my orgasm - I have often used a number of tantric breathing and muscle control techniques to do this. But orgasm on command? No, I've never mastered that.
In less than five minutes, my wife was moaning loudly, the vibrator speed up to the third level, having bypassed the second. The sounds of my wife in ecstasy raised my level of arousal to that short plateau that sits just below the moment of no return when all time seems to stop. My wife immediately started thrashing about, loudly urging me to "cum with me, CUM WITH ME." After a half minute of writhing, she is done with hers when I feel the sudden expansion of heat in my groin that signals my orgasm is imminent.
Suddenly, there is a loud bang on our bedroom door.
"Are you okay in their Mom," our ten year old child cries through the fortunately locked bedroom door.
In an instant, my wife leaps off of me and seemingly in one motion grabs her robe and slips it on. I don't know whether it's the special ability of mothers or just the curious ability of my wife but somehow she managed to react instantly to the cry of her child after having drunk an entire bottle of Champagne, gone limp from her second orgasm of the night while still nude and impaled to the hilt on her husband's cock that was just about to explode.
As my wife unlocked and opened the door, I heard the high pitched voice of my child say:
"I heard loud noises in there. I heard you yell. Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes, mommy's okay. I just had a bad dream. There were bears chasing me. Everything is okay. I'll walk you back to bed," my wife replied in perfectly sober aplomb, taking our child by the hand and escorting the little one back to bed.
I had one of those "what just happened?" moments. It seemed like I had jumped over some time. It felt like just a moment ago, my writhing wife was grinding down on top of me and I was thrusting up; I was just about to cum - I mean a few seconds away. And now, now I am alone in bed, a raging hard-on still pulsing away. The moments of time I seemed to have jumped over were those incredible moments of long delayed orgasm. It took me a few minutes to catch my breath and realize what had just happened.
I suppose most men would have just finished themselves off, rolled over and gone to sleep, cursing their bad luck and bad timing. Almost certainly I would have a year and a half ago before my chastity experience started. Obviously, in that year and a half I had changed. I did not have feelings of anger. I didn't feel like I had been shortchanged. I consciously refused to finish myself, remembering the private vow I had made to reserve all future orgasms for my wife - she was in control of them and they only happened when she said so. More than control of the "when," I had given her control of the "where" and "how." Although she had given me permission to cum, she surely hadn't given me permission to cum by myself.
I turned on the light, picked up a book and waited for her return. I stayed erect almost the entire time, my eyes losing focus on the book as my mind wandered back to the incredible events of the night, including the wild finish, or non-finish as it were. I waited forty-five minutes before I tip-toed down the hallway and peaked into my child's room. They were both sound asleep, my wife's arm wrapped protectively around her child. I had to smile at the versatility of the wonderful woman I had married. She could go from sex-crazed, utterly wanton woman just completely her second orgasm of the night, to an angelic, loving, protective mother in a second; literally a second, and with a bottle of Champagne in her to boot.
I returned to my bed and as I put my chastity device back on it occurred to me that I had proven something very important to my wife - something she had doubted was possible. I had proven that I could take the ultimate in tease and not be angry or resentful at the final denial. My wife could no longer say she was afraid to tease me intensely, tease me to the very edge of orgasm; hold me teetering on the edge. I had proven that I could take the most intense tease anyone could possibly imagine and accept denial with equanimity, even pride at my accomplishment.
As I turned off the light and lay down to sleep, I wondered whether I had used up the orgasm granted me by the white marble selection. After all, she had given me permission to cum within the prescribed five days per the rules we agreed to. Nothing in the rules said she had to give me permission a second time. I smiled to myself, not sure whether I wanted my wife to strictly interpret the rule and make me wait another cycle, or choose to follow the spirit of the rule and give me permission to cum sometime n the next three days.
The following afternoon, my wife and I couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. The sheer, incredible timing of it all. I raised the issue of the "used" permission. She just smiled and said she would let me know.
Two days later, while I was watching television, she whispered in my ear:
"Tonight is your night honey."
I turned around and my wife had on the same silk robe she had worn during our previous play night. Glancing down, I could see her black, nylon stocking clad legs. The scent of her perfume was unmistakable. We retired to the bedroom where she immediately told me to remove the chastity device. I took a shower to freshen up while she turned down the bed and lit the candles. When I came back into the bedroom, nude and still damp, my dick at a jaunty forty-five degree angle and hard enough to cut diamond, I found her lounging on the bed, propped on a pillow, in the same black teddy she'd had on the previous play time.
As I climbed onto the bed, she said
"Now where were we."
We both laughed as she pushed me down flat on the bed and immediately took a firm grip on my shaft. Her mouth formed in a large "O" as she lowered her face down, taking half of my fully engorged dick into her warm, soft mouth. All I could do was suck air in through clenched teeth and moan loudly in response to the sharp bolt of pleasure that seemed to explode outward from my groan. For several minutes she slowly laved every inch of my cock, as she gripped and slowly pumped the base of my shaft with her hand. Even with all of my Tantric techniques, I knew I wouldn't last long - and I didn't want to.
As if reading my mind, she stopped the incredible blow job and wordlessly climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. As I touched and massaged her firm breasts and hard nipples, she took me in hand and guided me to center of all pleasure. She took all of me in one downward thrust of her hips, my cock penetrating her to the hilt; the head pressed up against her cervix. The speed of it took my breath away. It took a moment to absorb the incredible sensation of pleasure that coursed through me. There was no vibrator anywhere in sight. Tonight she was going to be completely focused on me.
Slowly she bent forward until her elbows came to rest on my shoulders and then leaned down to kiss me; both of our mouths parted and our tongues danced around each other before finally plunging in. She slipped her arms under my armpits and gripped the top of my shoulders. Then she thrusted down hard onto my rigid staff, using her hands on my shoulders to pull herself back up. On the second hard thrust down, I thrust upward to meet her and we both gasped in pleasure. Every nerve ending in my penis seemed to be bursting with electrical pleasure. It didn't seem possible that anything could feel this good.
For several minutes we fucked in perfect sync. Then, as our passions rose, all order was lost as we fucked in wild abandon. We were like a couple of hormone saturated teenagers going at it, our rational minds completely shut down - turned off for the duration. It was all about pleasure, uncivilized, animalistic, ungentle fucking.
When I came, the muscular spasm in my legs was so powerful that I nearly threw her off me. She was riding a wild bull and just hanging on for dear life. For about ten seconds I was just a collection of spasms, jerks, twitches and nerve endings on fire with pleasure that were so intense that it almost crossed over into pain. For those ten seconds, nothing existed outside of us. It was ten seconds of utter, unexplainable, bliss. I pumped twenty-four days worth of semen into her as I held her tightly on my spurting dick. Finally, I collapsed in exhaustion and utter satiation; my arms and legs splayed out and lifeless. She collapsed on top of me.
Again, I experienced another gap in time as though I had jumped from one time to the next. I didn't really pass out - but I had checked out for awhile, drifting somewhere between that time and this. When I regained my senses, I felt her warm, sweaty body on top of me, her damp hair in my face - her face turned sideways, cheek to cheek with me. I could feel my semen leaking out of her, down my softening cock that was still inside her, onto my balls and the inner parts of my thighs. We lay like that, together for some time, before she roused herself. As she rose from me she looked down into my eyes and just smiled before disappearing into the bathroom for a shower.
It took a few minutes before I could muster the strength to get up and begin straightening up the bed and putting things away. I thought about taking a shower but decided against it. I wanted to go to sleep with the scent of my wife still on me, still present with me. When my wife returned all washed, scrubbed and clean, I felt I had lost something, a connection we shared as we made love. It was our true selves - musky, sweaty, scent and all. We kissed and hugged each other and said goodnight. Our arms remained entwined as we lay down to sleep.
Before I drifted off, it occurred to me that not only could my sex life be neatly divided into pre and post male chastity lifestyle, but the rest of my life as well. As much as I loved sex and my wife when we first got married, it was nothing close to the intensity of feelings I had for her now. Every day was a joy and in many ways, a new adventure. I felt the exhilaration of having discovered or rediscovered some ancient secret known only to a lucky few. And I was grateful to be one of those lucky few. I slept deeply without any drugs save those I produced myself, content in the knowledge that tomorrow the next cycle would begin.
