I remember her words. And that voice.
“Do you want to fuck me, big boy?” She said such dirty things, which turned me on, but her voice had that squeaky cartoon-duck timbre—just barely female, just barely adult—which turned me off.
I heard her voice before I first saw her, sitting in another booth at the roadside diner.
“Mama wants a big sausage with her eggs, not a patty or some skinny little links,” she was arguing with the waitress to no avail. She was alone but kept a mumbled conversation going with herself as she ate. “Mama better get gas before she gets back on the road.”
Having seen the waitress making the round with refills, I was gulping the lukewarm coffee from my cup when “Mama” jostled my arm as she forced her way onto the seat beside me. She ignored the small spill she caused and put her arm around my shoulder as if we were old friends.
“I bet you have something Mama would like,” she whispered into my ear. The waitress gave me a sympathetic smile when she refilled my cup but wasn’t going to intervene.
“See that camper?” she pointed to an old beat-up van in the parking lot, pressing her soft breasts against my arm as she reached across me. “Finish up and come give Mama what she needs to start the day.”
I don’t get much interest from women, even when I’m looking for it. It seemed implausible that she was hot for me, so I guessed she had some other agenda.
“I don’t have any money,” I said quietly, not wanting to attract attention. The other diners might have noticed when she sat next to me but had gone back to their breakfasts.
“That’s a good one!” she laughed loudly, then spoke softly, “as if anyone would pay for this.” She waved her hand from her face down her body. “I know you’re broke; I saw your ride,” she gestured with her head toward the older and more beat-up subcompact I had arrived in.
I had quit my dreary job and my dreary apartment to drive anywhere else for a while. My meager possessions filled the small car. The track I had been on since kindergarten had run out, and I had no idea which way I wanted to turn.
“You just look like you could use the same thing I need.” Her breath was warm on my ear. “If you’re interested, don’t take too long.”
She got up and stopped to pay her check, giving me a better chance to see her. Her round ass was held tight by worn blue jeans, but her boobs danced freely under her denim shirt. She had unruly curly clown hair, only the muddy brown color kept it from being explicitly funny.
As I mopped the last of the yolk with the last of the toast, accepting her offer was not in the cards. I was sure she wasn’t serious and that I wasn’t the kind of person to hook up with a stranger. The back of my mind was full of suspicions of ulterior motives and deadly outcomes.
“I apologize for yanking your chain earlier,” I heard her say to the waitress who rang her up. “I’ve done your job from time to time and should know better. Keep the change.”
“Well bless your heart,” the waitress replied with a big smile. “Thank you!” I guessed it was a good tip.
What seemed to be honest everyday joy on those two ordinary faces changed my impression of her. She seemed almost to dance as she walked to her van, never looking back to see what I might be doing.
When the waitress brought my check, I asked, “Do you know her?”
“Never seen her before,” she said. “I thought you two must be friends.”
Her eyes dipped and I laughed as I remembered that I too wore a denim shirt and jeans. I handed her enough to cover the bill and a decent tip.
“She was a little odd,” she said, looking to where the character had disappeared into her van. “But nice enough,” she added.
I’d spent the night at the cheap truck stop motel. With neither destination nor deadline, there was nothing to make me rush off. Taking a deep breath as I stepped out the door, I started walking to where she was parked. There were no signs of henchmen ready to waylay me. The back door popped open when I got close.
Inside it was cluttered but clean. Most of the space was occupied by a foam mattress with a few shelves and boxes of random stuff. The sheet showed fold marks, so I guessed she had just changed it.
“I don’t want anything complicated,” she explained as she slipped off her shoes. “There’s a good chance we leave here going in opposite directions. I don’t need to know your name or your story and see no need to tell you mine. I think it’s enough that we share the same taste in clothes,” her grin was infectious, “and could both use an unexpected fuck.”
She had unbuttoned her shirt and fly but waited until I did the same before she wiggled out of her pants and shrugged off her top. I tried not to stare as I followed suit. Neither naked body had been to a gym or a spa in a while—if ever. She gestured for me to lie next to her.
I bent to kiss her mouth, but she shook her head. Pushing me on my back, she reached for my crotch. My dick was decidedly undecided at that point. The anticipation of sex had not yet overwhelmed the circumstances and those back-of-my-mind fears. Undeterred, her saliva-wet fingers talked my organ into cooperating.
Her drooping breasts were squishy in my hands. As I palmed her nipples, they began to respond. Lifting a boob, I bent to suck the tip.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed, whether from what I was doing or what was filling her hand. She gently pumped my shaft as it pulsed and inflated.
That was when she uttered those immortal words. “Do you want to fuck me, big boy?”
My cock in her hand throbbed in reply.
“You better make Mama cum with your mouth first,” she said. My brain briefly noted but rejected the idea that this was an incest fantasy. She was only a few years older than me, and not the hot step-mother type. I was too old and disheveled to play the stud step-son. It was just one more quirk of hers.
Not letting go of my cock, she rearranged herself with her head at my genitals and her bush in my face. When the tip of my cock felt the wet heat of her mouth around it, there was nothing to do but dive into the hairy landscape in front of me.
As wild and curly as the hair on her head, it hadn’t met wax or a razor. I nuzzled it, inhaling her familiar yet unique scent before pressing my lips to determine the underlying geography.
Without urgency, we sixty-nined comfortably on our sides. It was a good enough blow job. At least my penis in her mouth kept her from talking. Navigating the unfamiliar pussy took some attention away from the pressure that was rapidly building in my nuts.
Parting fur and folds, my tongue found naked flesh, damp and salty, cranking up my libido. Almost like porn, it was a generic, unidentified pussy—in this case, literally, since I didn’t even know her name. My body knew how to respond to that.
“Go ahead, stick a couple fingers in,” she encouraged. With what was happening between my legs and hers, four out of five senses stoked my fire, but the sound of her words kept me from overheating. Focusing on my work, I licked my fingers before pushing them into her opening. The well of fluid that had accumulated inside left no doubt about her excitement. Swirling them around, I tugged her protruding lips between mine.
Her movements and whimpers told me I was having the desired effect. She had been polishing my head with her tongue when she paused, her hand gripping my shaft tightly.
“Oh, baby,” she squealed, her voice getting higher and louder. “Mama’s gonna cum. Lick Mama’s clit!” Opening her with the fingers of my other hand, I zeroed in on the spot. “Faster,” she cried. “Just like that, don’t stop.”
My tongue did its duty and before long her thighs closed a bit as her hips gyrated. I kept on target as she sang, “Oh ho ho ho ho ho!” like a soprano Santa Claus. “Oh ho ho ho ho ho,” she repeated as the spasms subsided. “Mama likey. You are such a good boy.”
She slipped her hand between her clit and my mouth after she climaxed. It was hardly a count of ten before she was moving again.
“Are you ready to give Mama that big sausage?” She pointed to a bowl with an assortment of condoms, then flopped on her back and parted her legs. Wrapping my pole, I moved into position. She pulled my cock against her opening and it slid in easily.
“Yessssss,” she sighed. I looked down at her, seeing her for the first time. Her half-closed eyes looked through me; her hands on my waist accepted me as I was; her body, warm and soft, offered me what she had to give.
We jockeyed into alignment with the first slow thrusts, then moved to a steady rhythm. My chest flattened her tits as her hug drew my full weight onto her. Heads on shoulders, in anonymity, we performed that timeless ritual.
“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” she quacked in my ear. My head tried to ignore the comical sound as my hips followed her orders. It had been so long since my organ had known that hot, slippery grasp, I doubted I would last long. When she squealed, “Mama’s gonna cum! Keep going!” it gave me enough incentive to resist for a few more seconds.
Her whole body stiffened. I held my breath as I kept my climax at bay, the slapping of our flesh the only sound. Shuddering a groan as the pleasure finally overtook me, I kept pounding as I filled the condom.
Only when I had stopped spurting did I hear her giggling. “Mama really needed that.” She dropped her hands to her sides and I rolled out and off of her. Pointing to a box of tissues next to a trash bag, she didn’t allow any time for idle chat.
She had pulled on her panties and was wriggling into her jeans by the time I dispensed with my output. I smiled at the sight of her wayward tits jiggling as she writhed.
“I hope you got your money’s worth,” she smirked, chiding me for my earlier crass assumption. She busied herself straightening up as I dressed. There seemed to be nothing she wanted to say or to hear, so I suppressed my urge to talk.
“Thanks," "It was nice meeting you,” “Have a nice day,” all seemed inappropriate. When she moved into the driver’s seat, it wasn’t so much a dismissal as an assumption that there was nothing more.
Silently, I exited the van, closed the door, and walked to my car.
Alone this Thanksgiving, my thoughts are drawn to the women I have known and what they have given me. “Mama” will always be unique because I never knew her name. I have never been able to fit that one hour into the rest of my life. Its regular recollection suggests that she affected me somehow, but not in an obvious or specific way.
Other than what first attracted her to me, there was no such question in my relationship with Ona, my first. To a nerdy virgin, all women were mysteries, but she pushed the envelope. With a short, asymmetric hairstyle, clothes in a dozen shades of black, dark, haunting eyes, and a sly grin that appeared at unexpected times, her strangeness was off-putting. The fact that she was a decade older and married made the attention she paid me even more confusing.
Working in the same facility, but not together, we had seen each other and did small talk in the break room but didn’t know each other. Late one night, the power went out. As I made my way toward the exit, I discovered she was also there after hours. Dressed as usual, she appeared as a shadow in the dim emergency lighting.
We speculated about when the electricity might be back. I wanted to wait, hoping it would return within an hour so I could finish what I needed that night. With nothing else to do, we got acquainted.
Over the ensuing weeks, we became friends of a sort. I’d offer to pick up a sandwich for her when I went to lunch. She would send me an article about something. I don’t recall why, how, or when, but at some point, she learned of my persistent virginity and I learned that her husband was twenty years older than her and away in Europe for six months.
Over time, our interactions evolved from witty to flirtatious. Despite the taboos and that she wasn’t my type, I couldn’t ignore her unfettered breasts that bobbed as she walked and her round ass that oscillated enticingly when she shifted her weight waiting for something to finish printing. She could make me tingle with a stare and a half-smile.
Inexperienced, I was slow to conclude that her enticement was intentional.
“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” I confronted her one night when we were both working late again.
“No,” she seemed contrite for a moment, but then smiled and amended, “Yes.”
“You have to stop,” I pleaded. “I can’t handle this.”
“But I want to handle you,” she teased. When she saw my exasperation, she became serious. I was surprised to see tears well up in her eyes.
“I can’t help myself,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I don’t know why, but I want you. I want to make love to you. I want to be your first.”
It was my turn to get emotional. “But you’re married!” I protested.
Ona seemed relieved to learn that that was my concern.
“Oh, you sweet gentleman,” she smiled. “That’s not a problem. I thought you were rejecting me.”
My failure to see the difference was plain on my face.
“My husband and I have an understanding. I don’t expect him to be celibate while he’s in Europe, and he won’t mind if I have an affair or two before he gets back.” She explained it as if it were an obvious arrangement.
“I guess all my cards are on the table,” she continued when I struggled to find words. “What do you want to do?”
Of course, I wanted to do anything and everything that she wanted to do. She worried about other employees talking, so we agreed to tone our office-play down and avoid being seen together in public.
She wanted my first time to be special, so she got a room for the weekend at a motel by the freeway. I couldn’t resist jerking off Tuesday and Wednesday, but I managed to abstain Thursday so I was ready to burst when I arrived at the room Friday evening.
Ona practically yanked me through the door. She had fetched a bucket of ice, laid out drinks and snacks, and pulled back the bedding. Pushing me to sit on the bed, she started undoing buttons on my shirt. When it was open, she fumbled with my belt. I took over to finish undressing. When she was satisfied I was going fast enough, she quickly kicked off her shoes, pulled her top off over her head, and scraped off her panties and jeans.
The way she leaped onto the bed, she seemed more eager than I was—which was hardly possible. When I joined her, she rolled on top of me, kissing me in a frenzy, her lips and tongue tasting and being tasted. With our legs interleaved, her soft belly trapped my rigid penis between us while her full tits mashed against my chest. My hands roamed from her shoulders to her ass. I had never felt so much warm skin against mine.
I loved feeling her wriggling weight on me and was in no hurry to change anything, but Ona moved to kneel between my legs. She reached to her crotch, then held out her damp fingers.
“Do you see what you do to me?” she chuckled. Wanting a closer look—and sensing she wanted me to—I sat up and took her hand. Holding it in front of my face, the scent was exotic and so human. My nerdy brain tried to analyze it; like the smell of my first Indian buffet, there were too many notes. Holding my breath in anticipation, I sucked her nectar. Like my first glass of red wine, the basic flavor was entwined with others that were strange and unexpected.
Releasing her hand, I licked my lips, trying to recall all the sex advice I had ever read. “Can I eat you?” I asked, the brief taste whetting my appetite.
“Not yet,” she laughed. “Tonight is for you.”
Giving my chest a gentle push to have me lie back, she bent over my cock. My soft “aww” of disappointment was less about that postponement than watching her swinging breasts disappear from view. I had been so distracted by sampling her juices, I hadn’t properly admired her naked boobs.
Ona wisely proceeded slowly. Her gentle fingers grasped the bottom of my shaft, feeling it twitch. She rubbed my balls and belly until it settled down, then slowly began to pump. Avoiding the head and the sensitive underside, she let me get used to the attention. She dared to lick it only enough to lubricate her manipulation.
From my frequent whimpers, she must have guessed I was so close that almost anything was going to set me off. Moving up, she straddled me, her knees astride my waist. Happy to have her tits within reach, I grabbed them as she leaned over me. By plan or accident, the distraction let my genitals retreat from the brink.
“You don’t have to be so gentle,” she said, putting her hand over mine to mash her left globe more than I would have dared. Her fingers pinched and tugged her right nipple, making herself sigh. I tried the same action and she moaned softly, “That’s good.”
When I lifted my head to try sucking on it, she pushed me back, deciding I had cooled off enough.
“You probably won’t last long, but that’s okay. Just enjoy the feelings,” she instructed.
No goddess was venerated more than Ona was by me at that moment. The heat of her flesh was a shock when she pushed my glans into her vagina. Leaning back, that perfectly engineered receptacle engulfed me in a smooth movement. Immobile, her pussy pressed hard against my balls, barely restraining my eruption. When my organ reached her temperature, it seemed we were fused together.
“Ready?” she cooed, but I was too dazed to respond. She moved up and down at a slow even pace. Gradually, she lengthened her stroke and I momentarily worried I would pop out. But she correctly judged my length and the point was soon moot.
I moaned loudly as I was pushed off the cliff, then stuttered, “Ah, ah, ah, ah,” as my cock shot out its streams of virgin liquor.
Ona watched my reactions with hunger as she maintained her pace until she was certain I was empty. I couldn’t move as the ecstasy echoed through every nerve. When she settled back onto me, I was lost in a dream.
Several deep sighs restored oxygen to my brain and I noticed that her hand was against her muff. Seeing my eyes look there, She grinned and moaned, “I am so… turned… on.”
Before I understood, Ona was gasping, “I’m cumming!” As she squirmed through her orgasm, my sensitive still hard cock sent shocks of pleasure through me, making me squirm as well.
She collapsed with me embedded inside her as we lingered in the afterglow. After a few minutes, she admitted, “I didn’t plan to cum, but you made me so hot, I knew it wouldn’t take much.” She hopped up to get us something to drink, showing off my spunk running down her thigh. When we finished, she noticed my still swollen dick.
“Do you think I can make you cum again?” she asked.
I didn’t confess that I had done so on occasion, but with a grin as big as hers I said “No harm in trying.”
Ona sucked me off, surprising us both with how much cum I had retained or regenerated. When we woke in the morning, she taught me how to return the favor. After breakfast, we fucked missionary. We spent the rest of the weekend letting me explore and learn.
For the remaining four months of her husband’s absence, we fucked every few days. I cleaned up my apartment and finally justified having a queen-size bed. We avoided contact at work, so no one knew what we were doing.
It was a little sad when we knew it was our last time together, but I knew she wanted to reconnect with her husband and she knew I would want to connect with other women. The experiences we shared gave me the skills and confidence that would have taken years by trial and error with different women. I was no lothario, but I managed a sequence of relationships of various duration and satisfaction.
I never had the nerve to ask Amber or her parents if her name was chosen anticipating that her skin tone would be a golder shade, and her hair would be a browner one, of her namesake color. Her sweet face, bubbly personality, and ample bust and butt drew the attention of a lot of guys, but I kept things professional. She was a decade younger than me and she would have been out of my league even if I had been her age.
She was in the Human Resources department where I worked and our paths crossed on occasion. I was always polite and appreciative to people in that line of work since they were essential but never got any excitement or glory.
One day I ran into her at my usual café. She was reading a book and I didn’t want to interrupt her but didn’t want to seem unfriendly. I paused to greet her briefly then looked for a table for myself.
“Oh, would you mind joining me?” she asked. “I just want to read, and I assume you’re doing the same,” she glanced at the magazines under my arm. “Guys won’t hit on me if you’re here.”
“Happy to help,” I said, taking a seat. “And I won’t be besieged by prowling women,” I snickered.
I offered to share my muffin. “They’re huge, and I feel silly wrapping half in a napkin to take home.”
A week later, I ran into her in the grocery store. I guessed she must live nearby, but she said she didn’t, she just happened to be in the area and needed a few things.
A few days after that, I was surprised to see her behind me at the car wash. As we watched our vehicles being dragged consecutively through the spinning brushes and foaming spray, I kidded, “Are you stalking me?”
Given the way she blushed, I assumed I had offended her and quickly apologized. “I was just joking about the coincidences, not claiming you were following me.”
She laughed self-consciously and said little before we claimed our cars and left.
My regular, weekly café visit two days later found her sitting at a table in the corner. After our previous encounter, I thought to make an excuse to sit separately, but she beckoned me when I waved to her.
“Please,” she said, gesturing to the chair.
After an awkward pause, she spoke quietly. “Would it be bad if I was stalking you?” Her big brown eyes glistened with emotion. “I just thought if we ran into each other a few times, you would ask me out.”
It was my turn to turn red. It had never occurred to me that she would be attracted to me.
“You’re always so nice and everyone thinks you’re smart, I just thought you’d be a change from the usual guys that chase after me,” she explained.
“Of course, I’m flattered,” I tried to find words. “But you’re so much younger than me, and you know the rules against employee dating.”
“Only nine and a half years,” she blurted, then realized she had revealed something. “Yeah,” she looked sheepish, “I checked out your file. Please don’t tell anyone. Besides, I’ve been offered a better job so I’m going to quit next week.”
It took me a minute or two to absorb that this lovely young woman was interested in me. Moreover, one major impediment was about to be removed.
“Well, at that point, there won’t be any reason I can’t ask you out, will there?” I grinned.
“No,” her face brightened, “no there won’t.”
So began the happiest years of my life and the most enlightening relationship I ever had.
Although I was older and more accomplished in the business world, Amber had more sexual experience than I did. From the beginning, I encouraged her to be more assertive at work and in our relationship. It was a joy to watch her blossom and to think I contributed in some way. She showed me things in the bedroom and helped me discover truths about myself.
After breakfast on my thirty-fifth birthday, Amber led me back to the bedroom. Removing her robe and mine, she said she had a surprise for me. Laying me on my back, she told me to close my eyes.
A little awkwardly, she climbed onto the bed. Her feet were astride my head; when she knelt down, her legs wedged my arms at my sides. She leaned forward, letting me feel her soft torso against mine. Her lips fastened on the tip of my cock, which had begun to swell in anticipation.
Her saliva made me slick as she slowly took me deeper each time her head bobbed. It dawned on me what her objective was: she wanted to deep-throat me, something she hadn’t yet managed without gagging. My cock throbbed, getting longer and harder at the prospect, increasing the challenge for her.
What I assumed was an unintended consequence of her attempt was that her genitals were right over my face. She was in the Balasana yoga position, stretched out prostrate on top of me with her legs bent underneath her. Later, she explained that she had practiced in that position, which gave her a good angle to take me deep, while her yoga focus helped to control her gag reflex. As she settled into her final position, her ass covered my eyes, and her warm flesh covered my nose and mouth.
I couldn’t help but squirm with the burning she was building in my balls, but I also had to find a way to breathe. Not wanting to disrupt her plan, I managed to tilt my head enough to get some air, filling my nose with her enticing scent. My excitement rose rapidly, her delightful slurping between my legs being surprisingly augmented by the claustrophobic feeling of her weight on me.
Knowing that I was strong enough to roll her off me didn’t change the thrill of being at her mercy. I vaguely thought I would choose to pass out before I would interrupt her. Whether because of what she was doing to me or because of my jostling gasps and humming moans, her folds began to dampen my face. She pressed harder when her body tensed as she was reaching the limit of my shaft.
My cockhead felt the squishy embrace of her throat. Her fingers tugged my balls and proved that her lips had reached them. Worried any movement below my waist might cause trouble and feeling pinned beneath her, I used my lips to the extent I could move to kiss my appreciation for the moment.
At that point, she began the most amazing blowjob I had ever experienced. She withdrew and re-swallowed me again and again. When she sensed I was ready to explode, she would squeeze the base in her fingers and slap the head against her cheek to cool me off before beginning another dive.
“I want you to cum inside my throat.” Amber had paused, holding my dick long enough for me to stop moaning. She spoke clearly so I would hear her permission since she usually preferred that I not ejaculate in her mouth. Normally, I would warn her and try to resist until she decided where to aim me.
As she went back to work, it was clear she intended to finish me off and I was more than ready. When I approached the peak at maximum penetration, I stopped struggling for breath and just let her smother me.
The tsunami of ecstasy washed over me for a hundred beats of my racing heart before I felt the contractions of my eruption. I couldn’t keep my hips from jumping and Amber reacted. She maintained her containment and her swallowing throat sent bolts of electricity into my penis. It seemed that every spurt led to a squeeze that drew another squirt.
It was so overwhelming, I started to fade. A different burning in my lungs reminded me of my plight, and I wrenched my head enough so I could gasp and moan my elation.
When I was finally able to do more than grunt, gasp and sigh, I whooped, “Amber, that was amazing! You are too good to me!”
Having turned my head enough to have a reliable supply of air, I had no other needs. Cocooned by her warm body, blinded by her pillowy butt, bathed in her aroma and flavor, floating in euphoria, I could only twitch helplessly but gratefully as she toyed with my hypersensitive cock.
When she finally climbed off me, her beaming face made me tingle. I could only hope that my rapturous daze conveyed the intensity of my appreciation. Holding her tightly, I sang my love and praise for her. After a few minutes to regain my vigor, I applied lips, tongue, and fingers to her sensitive spots to try to repay a fraction of what she had given me.
She was so happy about what she had accomplished, I never mentioned the bonus she had bestowed on me. The predilection for submission that she had unearthed that day grew throughout our relationship. In some ways, it was a natural evolution as she became more confident and assertive in other aspects of her life.
In bed one night a few years later, we spooned as usual. I loved the feel of her warm, soft body nestled against mine. My hand idly stroked her from hair to thighs, then settled in a hug palming her breast.
Suddenly, she pushed my arm away, “You just want sex. I’m not in the mood!” she snapped.
When I thought about where we were in her cycle and her stress at work, I felt a pang of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Amber,” I said. “That wasn’t my intention, but I understand. I was just trying to relax us both for sleep.”
I guess I sounded too defensive, because she retorted, “Don’t lie. You don’t understand. I need some sleep and can’t be bothered with your horniness. Go jerk off at your computer if you want.”
Even discounting the biological and other circumstances, it really hurt me that she questioned my motives. Restless even after she had fallen asleep, I hatched a plan to prove my intentions.
Mentally arguing the pros and cons through the night, I had slept for only a few hours so I stayed in bed when she got up for work. From the sound of her in the bathroom and stomping around the house, she was still upset, and I guessed there was nothing I could do right then that wouldn’t make things worse.
I took the day off and put my scheme into action. Dinner was her favorite comfort food, and it was ready when she got home from work. She mostly vented about her project, and I listened supportively. When she finished eating, I told her I’d do the dishes for her and she should relax.
Amber settled into an easy chair and started watching a program. When the show ended, I knelt next to the chair she was in.
“To prove how much I want to support you and care for you without expecting anything in return, I got you this.” I held out the gold chain, from which dangled a small key. “That is for this,” I rose to my feet and knocked on my penis. The bulge was visually indistinguishable from my normal flaccid state, but the sound made it clear there was something hard around it.
“Do you think I’m interested in some kinky bullshit right now?” she yelled. She ranted on for another ten minutes. All I could do was apologize, which she ignored.
“You can sleep on the couch,” she said, storming into the bedroom and slamming the door.
I never got to give my sales pitch, showing off the stainless steel cage that would keep me from getting erect. The ribs were spaced far enough so I could piss without getting it wet and could clean it in the shower without removing it. The size was comfortable until I began to get excited, at which point it quickly persuaded me to get my libido in check.
Ironically, the way my idea had failed, I felt like I deserved to be locked up, so I left it on. I woke early the next day and went to work, still wearing the device. Prepared to make a joke if anyone noticed it, I was relieved that no one did.
When I got home, I intended to take it off, but the key wasn’t where I had left it on the end table where she had been sitting. I briefly wondered if she might have had second thoughts and accepted the idea, but then I saw it on the nightstand on my side of our bed. She had moved it, but what did that mean?
Deciding to wait, I made dinner. She was relatively quiet as we ate, just a few more complaints about work and how her period had started.
“The hormones made me overreact last night,” she admitted. “I still think it is a stupid idea, but I missed you warming the bed last night.” Because she always took more time in the bathroom before retiring, when it was cold, I would often lie on her side of the bed until she got under the sheets.
“I’m beat, so I’m going to bed early,” she announced. “Try not to wake me up when you come in.” I was glad not to be on the couch again.
I watched a movie in order to give her a good head-start on the night. Undressing before I entered the room, I slipped into bed, keeping my distance. In sleep, though, my body sought its usual position against hers, which is where I was when I woke to her movements in the middle of the night.
“I could use an orgasm,” her words were sleepy as she rolled onto her back. From previous occasions, I knew what she meant. A climax would relieve some of the discomfort of her period, but she was too sensitive for her vibrator. Moving between her legs, I used my mouth the way I had learned worked the best in this situation.
At times like this, she didn’t want a big production. Sliding her panties down no more than necessary, I applied enough saliva to make things slippery around her clit. I didn’t go lower to avoid making a mess and didn’t reach to caress her elsewhere lest I aggravate tender breasts or cramping abdomen. No need to wake someone up completely to give them a soporific.
Massaging the spot with my tongue flat, I maintained contact. No teasing today. Starting gently, I gradually increased pressure as she sighed, feeling the warmth relax her. I patiently waited for her body to respond and eventually felt her nub become firmer.
She touched my head, signaling her readiness and I licked faster. I turned my head so my sideways-moving tongue would glide vertically, alternating along both sides of her clit. This was the phase that required the most stamina, but I was up to the challenge.
The tension grew in her thighs and she seemed to lift her hips against my face. Her soft moan arrived as her clit retreated and I switched to rapid, light, direct flicking. It was a familiar pattern for both of us, so I drove and she rode confidently to her release.
“Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes,” she repeated in a whisper between rapid breaths. A few seconds of silence warned me not to stop as they presaged her spasm. Her long, sweet, sigh told me we had achieved our objective. As it ended, I slowed my tongue, circling the area. After another long breath, I used my lips to tenderly massage and dry her sensitive flesh.
When she caressed my head in thanks, I kissed her pussy goodbye and pulled her panties back up. She rolled on her side and I moved up behind her, resisting the temptation to press my body against hers. However, when I settled, she scooted back against me.
Feeling—or rather not quite feeling, because of the enclosure—her soft cheeks against my cock, I remembered it was still there. She didn’t react; was she too drowsy to tell the difference between my dick and that metal frame?
The next day seemed ordinary; I woke to hear her in the shower. The key was no longer on my nightstand. I wouldn’t have seen it in the dark, so I didn’t know if she had moved it last night or this morning. The thought that she might be warming to the idea suddenly made it more uncomfortable as my cock throbbed with interest.
Since she had moved the key—twice—she obviously had not forgotten about it, whether or not she had noticed it against her ass last night. I decided to wait for her to bring it up.
Over a quick breakfast, she mentioned she would have to work late. Her warm kiss goodbye suggested her PMS blues were behind her. The softness of her breasts against my chest inspired a bent erection that lasted long after she left.
I felt compelled to look for the key. I don’t know what I would have done if I had found it, but she had either taken it or hidden it. As I drove to work, I ruminated—isn’t this what I wanted?
We exchanged texts about her missing dinner, so I had quick leftovers and spent the time doing her chores. We usually divided the housework, but I knew she would be happy not to have to go to the cleaners or do the grocery shopping.
When she texted me that she was on her way home, I ran a bubble bath for her. I had cleaned the bathroom earlier, so everything was spotless. It would let her relax for bed and might help with any menstrual issues.
“Aww,” she whined. “I still have to proofread this presentation. I can’t be falling asleep yet.”
“Open the document and I’ll read it and make fixes for you,” I offered. “You can review them in the morning.” She frowned skeptically but looked longingly at the steaming bubbles.
“That’s so considerate,” she said, turning on her laptop. “Don’t completely rewrite it. Other people have seen drafts,” she laughed.
While she relaxed in the tub, I dove in. It was well-done overall, but I spotted some typos, several places where edits were not made consistently, and some mislabeled tables and charts. She probably would have caught them, and none would have been fatal, but my repairing them would save her the time and bother.
Amber came to check on me when she finished, but I shooed her away, assuring her there were no major problems and advising her not to disrupt her quietude. She kissed me deeply then went to bed.
The taste of her tongue caused my cock to remind me of its constraint. Instead of the usual tingle that her attention would inspire in my groin, after a moment of reflection, a warmth flowed down my neck. I felt consequential that I was helping her, not because of any potential payback of pleasure, but because I loved her.
In the morning, she emerged wearing heels and her power suit. “You’re definitely going to impress them,” I encouraged.
After reviewing my changes, she gave me a hug, skipping the kiss so she wouldn’t have to redo her lips. “That was a big help,” she said. “Those errors, although minor, would have made me look careless, and I really needed all the sleep I got last night.”
She came home smiling but wincing, holding her shoes in her hands. “It went well, but my feet are killing me. I’m out of practice with high heels.”
Leading her to the easy chair, I raised her legs and knelt to massage her sore feet.
“I’m exhausted, and still on my period,” she warned me not to expect the physical contact to turn into something more.
“You have control of those urges in me now,” I reminded her. “At least, they don’t go far if they start.” I could see Amber was skeptical. “It’s strange. I didn’t really expect this, but since I have been wearing this, I feel different when I do things for you.” I took a breath to find the right words. “Instead of my cock pulsating because it thinks you’ll make me cum as a reward, I feel good all over because I helped you.”
When her feet felt a little better, she went to change into more comfortable clothes and I got up to serve dinner. Instead of the worries of the past weeks, she crowed about how she had anticipated their questions and gave good answers. I melted when she thanked me for my help, mentioning similar flaws that were noticed in the competing presentations.
Friday, Amber sent me a text in the afternoon inviting me to drinks with her and her colleagues. They were celebrating that their proposal had been accepted. It made me proud to see her coworkers praise her skill and effort.
She was worn out from the week and had had a few drinks, so I drove us both home, telling her how much I enjoyed her sharing her success with me. Asleep before we got there, I managed to get her to bed without rousing her too much. We could sleep late Saturday.
In the morning, I was awake only long enough to start thinking about breakfast when she sleepily rolled to face me. Her hand reached between my legs, suggesting she was interested in sex, but it encountered the cage.
“Oh, dear! I forgot!” she giggled. “You poor guy, locked up like that.” She jumped up and found her purse, returning with the key.
“Here, let’s get rid of that contraption,” she laughed.
It wasn’t the way I had expected to reach that point, and I hesitated for a few seconds. Was this all just a stunt, and now it’s over? Or did I want it to continue? Amber had said nothing about it, although the key’s movements said she must have thought about it at least a little. It was the moment of truth.
“Amber, my love,” I started slowly, trying to let my mind get ahead of my words. “I gave you the key, and it is yours to use or not as you wish.” Her forehead crinkled as it did when she concentrated. “I am, of course, delighted if you want to release me to make love with you.” I gulped, only then admitting to myself what I wished. “But afterward, I hope you will keep the key and maintain control of my sexuality.”
“Whhhyyyyy?” she dragged the syllable out, obviously mystified by my request.
“I confess, I was just trying to prove a point when I first put it on,” I explained. “I wanted to show my love and caring for you is not based on an expectation of gratification. But this week, I learned it myself. Everything I did for you made me happy in the moment.”
Slapping my forehead and shaking my head at the realization, I had to laugh. “Since puberty, all of my motivations around women were tainted by my appetite for orgasms. Of course, my love for you isn’t only that. But I think this gizmo has allowed me to focus on what doesn’t originate in my balls.”
“But what if I want what’s in your balls?” she protested.
“What I’m saying is that it is up to you,” I smiled. “I will do my best for you when you let me, and will happily go back on the shelf when you’re done.
She looked closely at the stainless steel cage for the first time. Taking the little padlock between her fingers, she used the key to unlock it.
“Now, take that thing off and get me ready to be fucked,” she commanded with a grin.
With a grin of my own, I watched her slowly drape the chain around her neck.
Today in gratitude I celebrate the women of my life: the ones I pursued but never caught, the ones I was better off without, the ones whose time together netted joy or pain or both. Commemorating the briefest, the first, and the most fulfilling, I am grateful for them all.
