Ahead of Time

“You’re going to be locked up for a long time,” she said casually.

She was laying against my side, her fingernails tracing lines up my thighs, stomach, and chest. We had just made love, and were basking in the afterglow. Well, at least she was basking; I hadn’t come — nor had I for the past couple of weeks — and was still aroused.

“I know you don’t like to know ahead of time when I’m going to let you out, but I just wanted  you know that it’s going to be, well, a long time.  We haven’t played at a really long term in a while, and I was thinking that I wanted to try it again.”

I failed to suppress a whimper, and she looked up at me. “I hope you’re not complaining,” she admonished. “I mean, I unlocked you at the end of the summer, and you spent all autumn free as a bird. Winter’s almost half over;  in fact. I can’t remember when you’ve had so much free time.”

It was true; I’d been unlocked for months, but it wasn’t exactly a Roman orgy around here.

“Yeah, but what with both of us getting the flu, plus the holidays, work, and all that, we barely had any sex at all, so it’s not like I’ve been running wild,” I explained. “I mean, for a couple of months, we even thought there was something in our water, since we just couldn’t get excited.”

She shrugged, and lay her head back down on my chest. “Anyway, since I’m going to lock you up tonight,  I wanted to spend some quality time with you; it’s going to be the last time that your cock is going to be free for quite a while, and I had to get enough of it to keep me motivated.”

I whimpered again. Despite not having as much sex as I would have liked, I had certainly gotten used to touching myself whenever I felt like it, and feeling her warm ass as we lay spooning, and of course, being allowed to come pretty much every time we did have sex — as infrequently as it had been. And although we keep talking about long term denial as a fantasy — a really hot fantasy for both of us — the fact is that it’s been quite a while since we played at that, and I wasn’t totally looking forward to actually doing it. Sure, I knew it was only a matter of time before she wanted me back in the chastity device, but as the weeks seemed to slip by, I just fell out of the groove.

Until tonight. . .

Read the rest of the story at The Edge of Vanilla on Wordpress. 

53 Days

"So, how many days has it been, now?"

I brushed away a fine hair that had been tickling my nose and thought for a moment. "Fifty three days so far," I answered. She had one leg over my shoulder, and I planted several small kisses along her warm thigh, my other hand idly caressing her belly and waist.

I felt her hesitation.

"I, uh, have some bad news," she said after pausing for a few seconds. "I have to go to Kansas again."

"Oh, dammit. Don't even tell me. . ."

"Yeah, it's going to be late next week," she replied, almost sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I just didn't have any control over when Marketing was going to ask for new staff training."

I knew that there was nobody else available to go, but I was still disappointed. "You know, you promised only sixty days this time," I said reproachfully, hoping to rub in a little guilt. "By the time the weekend rolls around it's going to be sixty four days."

"Oh, come on," she replied, "that's only five percent extra. After two whole months, what's another half a week?"

"Yeah, well, I don't see you not coming for two months. Let's see how you'd react if I told you you'd have to go for four days, let alone sixty four."

She disentangled herself to get off of the bed and pad toward the bathroom. "Maybe I could mail you the key at the beginning of the week."

I snorted, "Yeah, right. And have it get lost like that other time? No, thanks."

The sound of water tinkled around the door. "Hey, maybe you could leave it with somebody," I called out. "Preferably somebody cute, kinky, or both."

"You son of a bitch," she sputtered, "you'd love that, wouldn't you?" Walking back into the room she threw a towel at me. "I think you're missing the point of having your cock locked up."

"Yeah, somebody cute and kinky," I mused aloud. "How about that cute blonde that works with you. You know, with the big rack. What's her name. . . Chris?"

I didn't hear my wife's answer because she was beating me over the head with a pillow. All I was able to make out sounded like, "You bastard! I'll get you for that!"

The conversation seemed to go downhill after that.