3. Dylan
Dylan
Me and my big fucking mouth.
“Forget it,” I said, hopeful Ford might actually listen. I took a step to try to leave yet another awkward situation behind and almost dropped to the ground again.
I definitely couldn’t support my weight.
“You obviously can’t walk on it,” Ford said. “You can lean on me and hop.”
“That’s gonna take forever.”
“I can carry you.”
I scoffed. “Right.”
“You don’t think I can?”
Oh, I knew he probably could. I was just worried he’d suggest piggyback because he’d feel my cage dig into his back for sure. “We can try it.” I relented. “Are we leaving the picnic here or do you want me to hold it while you carry me? Will that be too much weight?”
“I should be able to handle both.”
I waited for him to say because I was small, but thankfully he didn’t. Instead, he handed me the picnic basket and moved close to me. With one arm behind my back, I let him take all of my weight as he scooped me up with his other arm under my thighs.
It was really something that he actually made it to the cabin, and with no break.
As he carried me across the threshold, I reined in my desire to make a comment about being his bride. He apparently had less self control.
“This feels oddly domestic,” he said. “Should I call you baby or honey ?”
I ignored the joke. “It feels more like some sort of CrossFit challenge to me and you’re winning.” He took me through the kitchen. “Where are we heading?”
“The bathroom. I need to clean that cut. You don’t want it infected.”
“I can handle it,” I said.
Ford laughed. “One, you can barely stand up, and two, you can’t see your own ass. You didn’t even know you were injured back there.”
I wasn’t about to tell him I shave my asshole without his help, but said, “I can use a mirror.”
“It’ll just be easier if you let me help. You’ve seen my ass. I’ve seen yours. An ass is an ass.”
“My ass isn’t just an ass. It’s stunning.”
He gently let me down in front of the sink and started rummaging through the bathroom closet.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t stunning ,” he said, without looking at me. “I apologize profusely if I insulted the beauty of your ass.”
I stared at the line of sweat down the middle of Ford’s tank top as he bent over further, determined to find whatever he was looking for. “Apology accepted.”
More searching allowed me a solid stare session at his ass. I couldn’t see any visible underwear lines through the tight fabric, so either he wasn’t wearing any or it was a thong. Either option had my cock straining, causing my entire caged-up package to push out from my body.
“Got it!” He turned around, smiling and holding up a brown bottle. “Turn around. I’ll be quick.”
I wanted to protest, to do it myself, but hiding my arousal was a priority at the moment. With my hands on the sink, I bent a little at the waist, attempting to give him better access. This wasn’t quite how I imagined bending over for Ford, but the memory of this moment would last a lifetime.
“This may sting a little.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Ford chuckled.
“Fucking—hell!” I braced myself against the sink as the first zing of pain coursed through my lower half.
“I told you it might sting.”
I gritted my teeth and swallowed the pain down.
Instead I focused on Ford’s hand, gently cupping my ass, and the feel of his warm breath…
down there. Blood continued to rush into my cock, pushing it against the sinktop.
I was so turned on I wanted to grind against it.
A few deep breaths helped calm me down, but just a little.
“All done,” Ford said, giving my butt a light slap.
“What? No champ? No attaboy?”
“Do you want me to call you champ?”
“Point taken. Do I need a bandage?”
“It’s not actively bleeding, but I wouldn’t put a brand-new pair of white shorts on or anything.”
“Great.” I nodded. “I’ll just wear nothing but a jock until I heal. Air it out.”
Ford smiled. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, so I changed the subject. “Thanks for carrying me all the way back here.”
“It was nothing.”
It certainly wasn’t that.
“Now you don’t have to do your pushups and crunches.” I patted his bicep. His ridiculously thick bicep.
We had been in close proximity for a while and it was intoxicating. This was exactly what Morgan and I were trying to mitigate. I was too easily swayed by muscles and pheromones.
I made an attempt to scoot past him, using the sink to leverage my weight.
“You should really elevate your ankle and get some ice on it.”
“I was gonna change into something with more ass coverage first.”
“I can help you to your room, and then if you want to stay there, I can grab some ice and a towel.”
“Sounds good. Thanks again.”
“I should be thanking you. Your clumsiness provided me with an all-natural workout.”
I wanted to say ‘And a reason to touch my ass’, but I kept my mouth shut.
That would be crossing a line, even for me. After all, Ford used to be my stepdad.
Sexual thoughts of him were supposed to be a thing of the past.
“Let’s go.” His arm slid around my waist and squeezed.
I was lying to myself, of course. I knew it as soon as I saw him fucking God-knows-what upstairs. I still wanted him. As much, if not more, as I did when I was a repressed horny teenager.
With ease, he guided me into my bedroom. “There,” he said, letting me slide onto my bed. “You staying here or do you want to rest on the couch?”
“I’ll stay here for a bit,” I said.
Ford nodded. “I’ll get you the ice then.”
“Thank you.” Hopping over to the dresser, I found a pair of black running shorts and dropped what was left of my torn ones to the floor along with my jockstrap. I made it to the bed and laid down on my back, taking the weight off my ankle and attempted to pull my shorts up.
“Hey, I’ve got your—shit, I should’ve knocked.”
“It’s fine. You’ve already seen it.” The reality was he hadn’t seen that much of it, but I wasn’t going to point that out. But that was too fucking close…he could’ve seen the cage.
“It’s been a few years since…that.”
The realization that I just referred to the single-most embarrassing moment of my life hit me like a freight train. And Ford acknowledged it.
“And you still like jockstraps,” Ford added.
I decided to unacknowledge the last few seconds. “Thanks for the ice.”
“No problem. Can I get you anything else? Are your shorts salvageable?”
“My phone,” I said. “I don’t remember where I put it, and I didn’t take a close look. I will later.”
Ford left and came back almost immediately, my phone in his hand. “Nice lock screen.”
In seconds, the heat creeped up my neck and into my cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s hot.”
He handed me my phone and turned to leave, hollering over his shoulder. “Yell for me if you need anything.”
I didn’t have to look to confirm; I knew exactly what he had seen. A close-up of this porn star slash influencer’s muscular stomach, his treasure trail, and just a tease of the base of his thick cock.
“Dylan.”
Wh-what?
I felt a gentle nudge on my shoulder and slowly blinked my eyes open. The room was pretty dark; I could barely see anything outside the window. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight,” Ford answered. “I wanted to see if you were hungry.”
Pulling my shirt down to cover my exposed stomach, I answered, “I could eat.” My hand crept up to my neck, looking for the silver chain that carried the key to my cage.
It’s not there!
I did my best not to lose my mind in front of Ford. After all, how could I explain what I was looking for?
“Good. I’ve got some mac and cheese cooking. It should be ready in a few. You want me to bring it to you, or do you want me to bring you to it?” He laughed at his own comment.
I sat up, dragging my hands on the comforter, searching for the key, but it was obvious it wasn’t there. Maybe it was in the kitchen?
Or somewhere in the woods.
It had to be in the kitchen.
“You can bring me to it,” I said, adding, “Please.”
“How’s your ankle feel?” He crouched down, reaching out for me. “Lean on me. Just like that.”
“It’s a little better,” I lied.
“And your ass?”
“Perfect as always.”
Despite my eyes scanning every inch of the floor from my bedroom to the kitchen, I didn’t see anything.
It appeared that my sexless summer would actually last the entire summer, unless I called Morgan.
He had the extra emergency key. I imagined in a true emergency I could go to the hospital and the doctors there would have some sort of saw and a delightful story to tell their friends.
I took a deep breath while Ford prepared dinner behind me. It was completely comfortable so far. There was no reason to think I actually needed to take it off. The point of wearing it was to stop being controlled by my hormones.
Problem solved. I got what I wanted.
“Here you go.”
Ford’s bicep appeared inches in front of my face as he lowered the plate to the table. His strength turned me on as much as jacking it to all his jockstraps. If this cage wasn’t on, I knew I already would’ve done something ridiculous.
Not that it was my arms that were locked, or my mouth.
But it was a symbol.
I could do this.
I could choose to not think with my dick.
“Fuck, that’s good.” Ford held his fork high above his face, attempting to get the extended string of melted cheese into his mouth. I watched his tongue do unspeakable things.
Nope.
Nevermind.
Losing the key is the only thing that was keeping me celibate.
After today, it felt like my self control was gone. I wasn’t sure how I was going to last an entire summer with Ford’s muscles rippling every time he was in the room.
After dinner Ford helped me into the living room, so I could relax on the couch.
My injured ankle was swollen, but now propped up on a cushion with fresh ice, thanks to Ford.
For a while, I tried to distract myself on my phone, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how fit someone had to be to carry a full-grown man almost a mile through the woods.
And then his hand was on my ass; his face just inches away from my hole.
Fuck.
As Ford entered the room, I dropped my phone on my chest, hoping he hadn’t seen the porn I was trying to distract myself with.
“Hey, check this out. It’s not yours, is it?” he asked, holding up a delicate silver chain before sitting near me on the couch. Dangling from it was a small, ornate key.
"Where did you find that?" I asked, barely able to contain my shock.
“It was in the kitchen by the front door.”
I shook my head. “Not mine.” What was I supposed to say? He’d ask what it was for and I wasn’t about to tell him.
"It's kinda cool, right? I like how shiny it is."
I tried to maintain a semblance of composure even though my heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. I was frozen, unable to say anything else.
Ford looked at me, a slight frown creasing his brow. "You okay? You're acting weird."
"Just...tired," I managed to squeak out.
“You’ve had a long day.” Ford smiled then fastened the necklace around his neck.
He's wearing it. He's actually wearing it.
I wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Torn between wanting to snatch the key back or disappear into the floor.
Ford reached towards the back of his neck, toying with the chain. After a few seconds, he wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, I need a shower. Carrying you through the woods really had me working up a sweat. I’m rank." He grinned, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “You think it looks good?”
He was referring to the necklace, misinterpreting my interest in it.
I nodded.
“Good. I really like it.” He continued to admire it as he flexed his chest while I watched the key dance in between his plump pecs. “You wanna pick another movie to watch when I come back down?”
“Sure.”
He walked over to squeeze my shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Ha! “Hilarious.”
As Ford walked out, my mind spiraled.
He's wearing the key. To my chastity cage. Around his neck.
Like it was a fashion statement.
He's going to wear it in the shower.
The image of Ford, naked and wet, wearing the key for a cage that literally contained my desire for him, sent waves of pleasure through my body. The heat built as my caged cock throbbed.
A few minutes later, the sound of the shower filled the cabin. Imagining the water cascading over Ford’s muscular torso—the silver key glistening against his skin—was better than any porn I could have found.
I was trapped in an agonizing state of anticipation of what was to come.
The cage, a symbol of my restraint, my purity, had now become a torment, a reminder of my lust. And the only release from it was now around the neck of the man I had tried to forget. The one man who poured gasoline on the fire that was my sexuality all those years ago.
My imagination ran wild as my fingers trailed down my stomach and under the waistband of my shorts. I conjured images of what was happening above me—Ford lathering up, washing himself, the key resting against his chest, the water streaming down his abs to his mouth-watering cock.
It had to be thick.
Every other part of the man was.
All the muscles in my body were tense, my caged cock throbbed with a painful intensity. I wanted to scream, to beg, to do something to break this tension. But I was stuck in an agony of my own making.
The sound of the shower continued—I could hear Ford humming now.
The key was so close, yet so impossibly far away.