I like her. A lot. #4
The way my chest feels like it’s overinflated, like if it gets even one-millimeter tighter, I’ll explode—I rub my hand across my chest, forgetting for a second that I’m shirtless, and that’s what started all this.
“That made me feel funny,” I admit, kneading my knuckles down my sternum, praying to whoever that my cheeks aren’t fully on “red-headed-boy-embarrassed.” If you don’t know what that means, my cheeks turn scarlet if I’m even a tiny bit embarrassed.
Even when I’m… aroused they get flushed sometimes, too. “But I liked it.”
She winks, and now the rippling waves of excitement grow hot and begin to melt through me, softening me at bone level. My breath feels hot when I exhale. She nods. “Take off your pants before the water goes cold.”
Delane just told me to take off my pants.
And for the first time, I realize what she meant about the cage, and it’s freedom.
I’m locked and trapped, and yet… I feel free.
Relieved. Because now I can focus on her beautiful eyes and gorgeous pink lips framing that sexy little smile… and not worry at all.
Right now, I’m secretly praising the cage. I step out of my jeans and boxer briefs and feel awkward with my hands hanging down by my sides. I reach for my groin, ready to stack my hands over the cage and rest them comfortably.
Delane reaches out and twists my nipple hard, sending a jolt of pain and adrenaline through me so fast I’m pretty sure I clenched my ass a little.
“Don’t cover yourself.”
I let my hands take their awkward positions at my side again before getting lost in her face. That is something easy to do anytime, but with us on the cusp of so many things, staring at her now feels different.
It feels less and less unbelievable and more comfortable by the second.
I mean, sure, don’t get me wrong, I’m shocked that this woman I’ve done dirty things to in my brain is here with me.
And I’m not forgetting the reasons why we’re together.
But still. We feel comfortable. I’m still glad for the cage, and my brain isn’t working as hard as it usually does with women.
Thought pacing is what I call it, but usually, when I’m with a woman, my mind is reeling from one thing to the next, questioning what I’ve done so far and wondering what I should be doing next.
Thought pacing is exhausting, and with Delane, I’m so busy being… fucking happy… that I’m not outside myself, overthinking like normal… ever.
“You are, like, so hot. I can’t even believe it,” she groans, shaking her head and bringing her palms to her temples. “Seriously, Miller,” she giggles, cheeks red, bottom lip pinned under her top teeth. “You’re a work of art.”
Wetness hits the top of my foot, and we both follow my eyes as I peer down, seeing a long trail of precum dripping from the slotted tip of my cage. She looks back up at me, eyes a little hazy, a lot beautiful. “See? So hot.”
Leaking, in my mind, is a sign of bad willpower and, therefore, bad sexual stamina.
I’ve always worried that I’d get my girlfriend to the bedroom, and once we’d start getting naked to have sex, she’d see the huge spot I always have on my boxer briefs.
I worried that she’d think I already came or that she’d think I was inexperienced, which was true.
But here’s Delane, saying that my cock dripping onto my foot as I stand locked before her is hot.
I guess it’s a good thing I’m already in love with her, or else the “when did you know” story would be pretty awkward.
And yeah, I love Delane. I’ve been in love with Delane since I first saw her.
In theory, love at first sight is really stupid.
You can’t truly love someone you don’t know.
What if your values don’t align? What if they have expectations set for you that you’re not comfortable with?
Values are tied to love, love between family members platonically and love between romantic partners.
I may be a virgin, but I know all about love. How hard it is to lose when it’s unconditional yet one-sided.
But I felt that twinge of pain and pleasure when I first saw her.
She was blowing a bubble with her gum, typing on the computer, and listening to something in her EarPods.
And I just felt the unbelievable and all-consuming, crushing weight of love.
Right then. I knew whatever complexities she had; I’d want them.
Whatever troubles she had, I’d try to solve them.
Whatever she needed from me, I’d give her.
I felt it. The way you can open your palms under a rainy sky and feel the chill of the sky’s tears, the love for her was there, inside me, from day one.
And I wasn’t wrong.
Each new thing I learned about Delane, I fell deeper. Alice down the Rabbit Hole is nothing compared to I fell in love with Delane , and that’s the truth.
I may have turned away from my family, but in my soul and at my core, I am a family man.
I want a family. I want to give them everything mine failed to give me.
And do it with patience and kindness, giving my children as many answers as I can.
And admitting when I don’t know. I want a house full of love and warmth, and passion.
I want it sooner than later because I’m done exploring the lost isles of my past. I’m done forging new territory to explore things I felt needed exploring.
I’m caught up. Life is a lot better when you have love, and if this is my shot at getting it–with the woman I fucking worship–I’m not going to be an idiot.
“I’m gonna get in,” I say, feeling a smile spread across my lips. She grins back at me.
“Get in then.”
I turn, pull back the curtain, and step inside, closing it behind me. Delane just watched me get into the shower. Delane has licked my balls. Delane is–
“So how was the week? You know, in there?”
I look down at my groin, noticing the darkened color of my cock, the head nearly purple as it peeks through the slots of the cage. “Hard and yet, not hard at all.”
We both laugh, probably more than the joke deserves, but it feels good. I like having someone who can easily move between intimate and silly.
“Did you want to jerk off?” she asks, her tone wavering, sounding a little shy. But Delane isn’t shy, so it must be the noise between us, including the patter of shower water.
“Yes,” I admit, and even though it’s the first time I’ve talked about masturbation with anyone, again, aside from a shrink and a medical doctor, it doesn’t feel awkward.
If anything, I feel uncomfortable because she’s the one I’d think about when jerking off.
Has been that way for years now. And I don’t think I can lie to her if she asks. But I don’t count on her asking.
“When? Give me a specific example of a time when you wanted to put your hand on your cock and stroke yourself but couldn’t.”
The water is hot, but nothing burns as hotly as my temples.
Pounding, pulsing, ears ringing, I try to think of a single time that didn’t involve or include her.
And my creativity, when aroused yet physically unable to be aroused, is at an all-time low.
I stammer a little, my body alert and fiery for her, to give her a story she clearly wants.
Through my shock, I manage, “Yesterday. You had your hair half up, and there were pieces around your face that you messed with all day. You kept twirling them around your finger and pushing them back, and I was thinking, I wanted to be pushing them back.”
A second of silence, and I’m wondering if that was too creepy, too personal. Should I have just said, “because you looked hot in your jeans” or something?
“And what about that made you want to jerk off? Pushing my hair off my face?” she asks, her voice raspy and hoarse, causing goosebumps to rise up along the back of my neck.
“I’m pushing your hair back so I can see your mouth on my… on me .”
“Say it,” she corrects immediately, my torso humming with virility. I haven’t been this horny, this intensely, maybe ever.
“I’m pushing your hair back so I can see your mouth on my cock,” I rasp, the words making my tongue tingle from how incredibly wrong yet freeing they feel. “I want to watch you suck my cock.”
I watch the suds circle the drain as I wait for her response, but after a moment that feels far too long, I turn off the water and pull the curtain back.
She’s biting her lip, eyes looking a little drowsy, the key to my cage pinched between her pointer finger and thumb. “Here,” she says on a swallow, outstretching the key to me.
With my arm leaving heavy drops of water on the floor below, I reach out and take it, unsure if I want freedom. The cage does relieve stress.
“Take it off so I can see what a beautiful cock you’ve been hiding from me all these years,” she says slyly, and I know then that if she wants the cage off, it’s coming off.
Delane isn’t someone who settles when it comes to something she wants, and honestly?
All she has to do is tell me to jump, and I would.
“I’ll wait in your room,” she adds, and then she’s gone, and I’m left dripping wet, in the steam, key in hand.
Once I’ve unlocked myself, I slide the cage off my shaft, leaving just the base around me.
With one smoothing stroke of my hand to make sure my dick is still alive with feeling, it begins to grow.
First in length, but a moment later thickens, and I stroke it again, letting out a little groan.
I will never take jerking off for granted again.
Inhaling, I grab my junk, shimmy off the base, and set the entire contraption on the counter. It looks so small sitting on the marble counter, and as my cock comes alive between my legs, I almost can’t believe I was in it for multiple days.