Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2019 12:54:05 -0500 From: Art Douglas Subject: My Personal Prison, part 2 I'm still free. I didn't have the balls to lock myself up last night. The chastity cage is still in its box, still in the closet for another day. Almost as if he knows his time is limited, my cock was wide awake this morning even before the alarm went off. My boyfriend had already gotten up and started his day, so it was just me and my dick. Stretching out to his full length, pulsing with my heartbeat, pleading for a little playtime. Begging for a few little tugs, a familiar, friendly squeeze to feel the blood surging to his head. Of course, I know what that really means. I can't be trusted with an erection. A little stimulation would never be enough. Once I got started I wouldn't be satisfied until I go all the way, panting like an animal, unable to stop myself until shuddering I hit the ceiling. Until I feel that massive release and the mental oblivion that follows immediately after the explosion. Then I'd fall back down to earth, back into my body. I'd look at it pooling out of my shrinking cock onto my belly, grown soft with indulgence. A far cry from the lean, mean sex machine I was just a year or two ago. For a moment, I'd stare at that sad reminder of how far I am from what I should and could be, then search around for a rag or an old T-shirt to wipe up the sticky mess. And then I'd sit there for a while, working up the energy to get out of bed. Sadder and less fulfilled than before. Disappointed that I wasted that sexual energy on a few minutes with myself when I have a very willing partner, more than happy to give me what I need if I could just wait. I've been through all of this before. I know the routine. It's not what I want. And still my cock was aching for it. Even after getting plenty of satisfaction last night. I could still feel the cum in my ass and smell the sex in the air. It was a great night. Better than I had imagined it would be. We cancelled dinner plans and decided to stay in last night. Perfect. Lounging together on the couch, loose sweat pants leaving us free to hang and swell as our bodies got closer. My boyfriend isn't usually much of a cuddler but he's a real sucker for massage. I can always get into his pants if I start with his shoulders. For more than an hour, I slipped my hands under his shirt and tore into his knots, getting him slick with oil. What started as little whimpers got louder as I worked deeper into his muscles. I slipped my hand around front as if to massage his chest, but really sliding back and forth across his nipples. He fell back into me with a sharp inhale. When I started on his feet, he melted and I knew I could have anything I wanted. I worked my way up his legs, feeling him get warmer as I moved closer to his visible excitement. To paint the picture for you, my dick is fine. A little above average, firm, proportional, never had any complaints and I've had plenty of compliments. It's a nice, practical package that gets the job done. But this boy is packing something else entirely. My boyfriend's cock is a work of art. Better than a masterpiece. If classical statues had dicks like his, the Greeks wouldn't have been so horny they'd never have gotten around to building civilization. It's long and thick. He's got a meaty heft that leaves a mark when it slaps your cheek, but can stand up stronger than a rhinoceros horn. I'll never go hungry - this thing fills my whole mouth and half my throat, and shoots enough cum to drown a man if he's not careful. If it's been a while and I'm tight, I better stretch first or he'll tear me wide open. But if I'm ready and pre-lubed, he can slide right in, fill me up in a way that feels so right, and touch places inside of me that send me straight to heaven. And last night, I was very ready. So when he whispered in my ear - "Go lay down. I'm going to give you a massage and take advantage of you." I was off like a shot, stripping down as I threw myself face first into the bed. Usually I would kill for a full body massage, and it's been way too long since I've had one. But from the moment he started oiling me up last night, I couldn't help myself. I was reaching back, grabbing his dick through his sweats, his hip, his thigh, whatever he put within my reach. By the timing he was working my glutes and let his fingers slide cheekily in between, I was grinding back against him, desperate to move on to the main event. He started slow, fully aware that his cock is a beast and takes some time and effort to accommodate. But like I said - I had planned for this. As soon as the tip made contact with its target, I pushed back hard, bringing him all the way in to my large intestine. I'm usually pretty delicate so this gave him a good shock, but he was quick to oblige and give me the fucking I demanded. Whenever he's slow down, I'd push my face further into the pillows and my ass further into his hips, animal lust taking over and needing more, harder, faster. I could feel a straight line from his dick to my brain, and all I could think was that I wanted this to go on forever. I spread my legs wide giving him access to go further into my guts. Then pulled my legs shut, squeezing hard to grip him as tightly as possible. I rocked my hips back and forth to match his thrusts, grinding my wet cock into the sheets and driving me even crazier. Rolling me onto one hip, he wrapped the other leg behind his back, finding new flesh to electrify. We both knew he was getting close and I wanted to feel the flood. "Give it to me. Fill me up. However you want it. Make me your toy." He pulled out and flipped me onto my back, hooked my legs behind my elbows, and pounded me with new energy, new angles, even more madness. I'm pretty sure he screamed when he filled my ass, but my memory was getting pretty hazy by then. He was swelling up even bigger as he got to the peak, and all I can remember is how good and right it felt. Once he'd finished, I wrapped both legs around his waist, not letting him withdraw a centimeter. I wanted all of it, and with him exhausted I could ride him just how I wanted, pushing myself past the limit. As we fell into each other, I was overcome with love. This is perfect, I thought. Why put that at risk by asking him to lock me up, possibly offending him right before he leaves, right when we're so happy just the way things are? Nothing could be better, and I'll never want anything else. So we cuddled up to sleep. And I left my secret box in the closet. Cut to this morning, me - alone with my hard dick, fighting the temptation of my old routine. I didn't touch myself. This time. I let my erection press against the sheets, bobbing up and down, straining for any kind of stimulation. I pulled out my phone and instead of porn, I read the news. Eventually, he gave up and softened from neglect. It's a little victory, and fleeting. I know that I am weak, I know that I can't control myself for long. One indulgence will lead to another, may lead to an escalation, might lead to a betrayal - and that is not a chance that I can take. It's not what I want. I want more nights like last night. It's more apparent to me every morning, every day closer to my boyfriend's departure. I can't be trusted with myself. I need to be locked up. My boyfriend needs to hold my key. It's the only reliable choice. I'm running out of time, so it better be tonight. I think this time I better show him the box first, and tell him he can open it after he makes me cum.