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5-STAR POSTS!!     |
23/12/2018
I woke up to the delightful sensation of my wife’s hand gently stroking my cock.
“Good morning, baby,” she said with a smile.
“Good morning, my lovely,” I replied.
My wife continued to stroke me. My cock grew hard in her hand. Pleasure began to mount. Then, her hand slipped off the tip. This caused me to jolt and writhe slightly.
My wife giggled. Her hand encircled my cock again. She stroked a bit, then let her hand slide off.
Again, my body jolted. My wife giggled.
She knelt beside me. She stroked my cock, slower. It went on longer this time. I imagined myself cumming. Then, once more, she let her hand slip right off the tip. My body jolted harder and I writhed and moaned in frustration.
“Oh,” my wife said with a giggle. “Go take your shower.
I did as told, hopeful that I was cleaning up so I’d smell nice for sex. I returned to the bedroom.
"Put on your cage,” my wife said, sweetly but firmly.
My heart sank a bit, but I also became excited. The cage is a source of both frustration and pleasure. It’s confining, but comforting. Implicit in its restriction is my wife’s love and ownership.
It was a struggle to get my cage on because I was still semi-erect from my wife’s tease-and-denial handjob. I thought of unsexy things until my erection fully subsided.
Once my cage was on, I went to my wife for her inspection. She was pleased. She suggested that we should get ready for the day.
We spent most of the day taking a day trip to a small town we both like that has unique shops and good restaurants. We had a great time just strolling around and looking at stuff. Occasionally, my wife would discretely tap my crotch, just to remind me that I was caged. (As if I could have forgotten!)
We had to be home by 5pm so that my wife could get ready for her date night. This had been in the background of my thinking for the entire day.
When we got home, my wife got ready for her date. She showered, put on lingerie consisting of a black garter belt and thigh highs, and a matching black corset. Over this she put on a black dress that hugged her curves. Looking at her in this dress, you’d never know that her stockings were only thigh high.
She caught me looking with longing. “Don’t worry, baby. You can have me later.”
Later meant, “after he’s done.” My wife’s new boyfriend preferred that she not have sex with me in the 24 hours leading up to a date night. His logic was that it helped build sexual friction and passion that she would then unleash on him. I think it worked.
My wife did her hair and makeup. She then packed a “just in case” overnight bag. She put on an anklet that I got her and a thin, black leather choker. She put on high heel shoes. When she was all done, she looked more stunning and desirable than I could ever remember.
My wife’s boyfriend arrived in slightly before she was fully ready. I let him in. We shook hands and made small talk. My wife joined us as soon as she was ready. He lavished her with compliments. They hugged and kissed. He squeezed her butt.
“Hi, Baby,” she said to him, using her favourite term of endearment.
My wife turned to me. “I need you to do the dishes, put away the clothes, and get rid of any leftovers we have laying around.
"Of course, darling,” I said.
My wife gave me a peck on the lips, then she left with her boyfriend. I heard his engine fire up outside, and his car pulled away.
I jumped right into my jobs. I put away the laundry, first. Then I took care of the leftovers. As I squatted to look through the bottom of the fridge, my cage pressed against my body. My mind was suddenly thrust back into the reality of what was happening.
Awareness brought a flush of blood to my cock. It grew inside its cage, pressing uncomfortably against the plastic that confined it. This put my wife even more in the forefront of my mind.
I threw myself back into my tasks. The dishes helped. I find doing the dishes to be oddly meditative.
Within an hour and a half I had completed all of my chores. My wife had left at 8pm. She probably wouldn’t be back until the morning.
It was going to be a long night.
I made a couple of new jobs for myself. I fixed a drawer that wasn’t closing right. I oiled the locks on the front and back doors.
At 10pm, I got a selfie from my wife. She was in the bathroom of a nice bar she likes. She looked delicious.
Out of things to do, I watched a show I like until about 20 minutes after midnight. Then I got a text from my wife: “At the hotel. Talk to you later!”
“Have fun!” I replied.
“Oh, I will,” came her answer. There was a little devil face at the end of the text.
I swallowed, hard. My hand began to fondle my cage. The lack of ability to pleasure myself was driving me crazy.
I switched to a video game. Something more interactive would help.
2am came. I got a picture from my wife. She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror. From what I could see, she was naked except for the choker and the garter belt. Her face looked blissful and her hair was a mess. The accompanying text read: “Four orgasms … so far.” There was a little winky face this time.
It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, until …
Fifteen minutes later, another picture came through. Same bathroom mirror, except now my wife was slightly bent over, her palms flat on the sink. Her head was back, her eyes were closed, and her mouth hung open slightly. Her boyfriend was standing pressed up behind her, naked, with one hand on her hip. His other held the phone. There was no text accompanying. There was no need.
After that there was no communication for hours. I watched a show and stared at my caged cock, savouring the delightful torture of the situation. My imagination ran wild with scenarios of what was going on with my wife.
Finally, around 4am, I got a little text from my wife that read: “I love you, my darling!”
“I love you more than you can imagine,” I wrote back.
I dozed off shortly after. I dreamt about making love to my wife.
Around 10am, my wife got home. She was dressed in her overnight bag clothes: jeans and a jacket. Her boyfriend walked her in. He and I shook hands again. He and my wife made out briefly. Then he left.
My wife hugged me, long and hard. Her body pressed up against my cage. She noticed it and said, “Let’s get that off you.” She took the key out of her bag and told me to release myself. I did as told.
“I’m a little tender now,” my wife said, “but let’s fuck anyway. You have been such a good boy”
God, I love this woman.
FUCK MY WIFE!
CLICK BELOW TO FIND A BULL
“Good morning, baby,” she said with a smile.
“Good morning, my lovely,” I replied.
My wife continued to stroke me. My cock grew hard in her hand. Pleasure began to mount. Then, her hand slipped off the tip. This caused me to jolt and writhe slightly.
My wife giggled. Her hand encircled my cock again. She stroked a bit, then let her hand slide off.
Again, my body jolted. My wife giggled.
She knelt beside me. She stroked my cock, slower. It went on longer this time. I imagined myself cumming. Then, once more, she let her hand slip right off the tip. My body jolted harder and I writhed and moaned in frustration.
“Oh,” my wife said with a giggle. “Go take your shower.
I did as told, hopeful that I was cleaning up so I’d smell nice for sex. I returned to the bedroom.
"Put on your cage,” my wife said, sweetly but firmly.
My heart sank a bit, but I also became excited. The cage is a source of both frustration and pleasure. It’s confining, but comforting. Implicit in its restriction is my wife’s love and ownership.
It was a struggle to get my cage on because I was still semi-erect from my wife’s tease-and-denial handjob. I thought of unsexy things until my erection fully subsided.
Once my cage was on, I went to my wife for her inspection. She was pleased. She suggested that we should get ready for the day.
We spent most of the day taking a day trip to a small town we both like that has unique shops and good restaurants. We had a great time just strolling around and looking at stuff. Occasionally, my wife would discretely tap my crotch, just to remind me that I was caged. (As if I could have forgotten!)
We had to be home by 5pm so that my wife could get ready for her date night. This had been in the background of my thinking for the entire day.
When we got home, my wife got ready for her date. She showered, put on lingerie consisting of a black garter belt and thigh highs, and a matching black corset. Over this she put on a black dress that hugged her curves. Looking at her in this dress, you’d never know that her stockings were only thigh high.
She caught me looking with longing. “Don’t worry, baby. You can have me later.”
Later meant, “after he’s done.” My wife’s new boyfriend preferred that she not have sex with me in the 24 hours leading up to a date night. His logic was that it helped build sexual friction and passion that she would then unleash on him. I think it worked.
My wife did her hair and makeup. She then packed a “just in case” overnight bag. She put on an anklet that I got her and a thin, black leather choker. She put on high heel shoes. When she was all done, she looked more stunning and desirable than I could ever remember.
My wife’s boyfriend arrived in slightly before she was fully ready. I let him in. We shook hands and made small talk. My wife joined us as soon as she was ready. He lavished her with compliments. They hugged and kissed. He squeezed her butt.
“Hi, Baby,” she said to him, using her favourite term of endearment.
My wife turned to me. “I need you to do the dishes, put away the clothes, and get rid of any leftovers we have laying around.
"Of course, darling,” I said.
My wife gave me a peck on the lips, then she left with her boyfriend. I heard his engine fire up outside, and his car pulled away.
I jumped right into my jobs. I put away the laundry, first. Then I took care of the leftovers. As I squatted to look through the bottom of the fridge, my cage pressed against my body. My mind was suddenly thrust back into the reality of what was happening.
Awareness brought a flush of blood to my cock. It grew inside its cage, pressing uncomfortably against the plastic that confined it. This put my wife even more in the forefront of my mind.
I threw myself back into my tasks. The dishes helped. I find doing the dishes to be oddly meditative.
Within an hour and a half I had completed all of my chores. My wife had left at 8pm. She probably wouldn’t be back until the morning.
It was going to be a long night.
I made a couple of new jobs for myself. I fixed a drawer that wasn’t closing right. I oiled the locks on the front and back doors.
At 10pm, I got a selfie from my wife. She was in the bathroom of a nice bar she likes. She looked delicious.
Out of things to do, I watched a show I like until about 20 minutes after midnight. Then I got a text from my wife: “At the hotel. Talk to you later!”
“Have fun!” I replied.
“Oh, I will,” came her answer. There was a little devil face at the end of the text.
I swallowed, hard. My hand began to fondle my cage. The lack of ability to pleasure myself was driving me crazy.
I switched to a video game. Something more interactive would help.
2am came. I got a picture from my wife. She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror. From what I could see, she was naked except for the choker and the garter belt. Her face looked blissful and her hair was a mess. The accompanying text read: “Four orgasms … so far.” There was a little winky face this time.
It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, until …
Fifteen minutes later, another picture came through. Same bathroom mirror, except now my wife was slightly bent over, her palms flat on the sink. Her head was back, her eyes were closed, and her mouth hung open slightly. Her boyfriend was standing pressed up behind her, naked, with one hand on her hip. His other held the phone. There was no text accompanying. There was no need.
After that there was no communication for hours. I watched a show and stared at my caged cock, savouring the delightful torture of the situation. My imagination ran wild with scenarios of what was going on with my wife.
Finally, around 4am, I got a little text from my wife that read: “I love you, my darling!”
“I love you more than you can imagine,” I wrote back.
I dozed off shortly after. I dreamt about making love to my wife.
Around 10am, my wife got home. She was dressed in her overnight bag clothes: jeans and a jacket. Her boyfriend walked her in. He and I shook hands again. He and my wife made out briefly. Then he left.
My wife hugged me, long and hard. Her body pressed up against my cage. She noticed it and said, “Let’s get that off you.” She took the key out of her bag and told me to release myself. I did as told.
“I’m a little tender now,” my wife said, “but let’s fuck anyway. You have been such a good boy”
God, I love this woman.
 TAKE MY WIFE |
 FUCK ME |
Poster:
Bryce