I’ll never forget our first date. I took you to that hole in the wall by the beach. I’m surprised both of us survived that experience, and even more surprised you agreed to a second date. I know we’ve been back to that place a few times, for laughs. I guess it will always be “our place”, at least until it’s condemned by the health department.
I don’t remember what we did on our second date. Chinese maybe? I do remember kissing you for the first time. On our next date, we went to the Eagle in full gear together. I introduced you to the penis and you sucked me off and swallowed my come. It was our first leather sex.
I met you at your place for our forth date. You had a sling set up and met me in nothing but your chaps and Wescos. You sucked me and then climbed into the sling. I fucked you for the first time, and then you took my fist. In fact, you took my arm almost to the elbow. You came hard when I fisted you. We spent our first night together. I fucked you again the next morning. As I was leaving, you told me you loved me. I wasn’t quite ready to say it back. I told you while I could be monogamous with my heart, I wasn’t with my dick. You kissed me and told me that was fine with you. I told you more about Sir and the other boys I played with. You were happy I had that.
We went on our first long weekend away not long after that. We both tested negative a few days before. You told me not to bother bringing condoms. You wore my collar and called me Sir. I fucked you and I came in you for the first time. Yours was the first ass I’d filled with come in ages. You kept saying “yeah, fuck your boy” every time I penetrated you. You loved being fucked. You had a hungry hole. If I recall correctly, I fucked my boy multiple times that weekend. I told you that I loved you too. I don’t think we’ve really been apart since. We’ve lived, travelled, skied, dived and played together. We’ve been to Folsom and IML together. We’ve cruised for playmates together. We built a playroom. We’ve laughed and cried together, always together.
Those first years are a blur of love, three-ways, fisting parties, s/m, blow jobs and fucking. I don’t think we went a day without sex. I’d come home, pull down your pants, and fuck you before you could say hello. You came every time I fucked or fisted you. I asked you to marry me. You said yes.
The health problems started to show up not long after we married. Your body began betraying you and you hated that. Our sex life gradually became a shadow of what it had been. I didn’t fuck or fist you much anymore. The kink disappeared. You stopped wearing your gear. I started to feel embarrassed about wearing mine. It happened so insidiously that I didn’t notice until I became self conscious about wanting sex when you didn’t or couldn’t. Days became weeks became months. My love never decreased, but that physical connection diminished. I turned to porn and masturbation. I stopped playing with boys because it felt like cheating. Eventually, I realized something had to change, there had to be a way to reignite the passion, so 2 years ago today, I asked you to lock my dick.
I sat before you with a plastic cage on my dick. It wasn’t easy. I’d been your Sir for 10 years. I was terrified. But far more important than being your Sir, I wanted to be your lover again. I wanted to share my fascination with chastity with you. I wanted to find something we could do together again. It’s always been about that, about the together. I remember the first time we went out after I was caged. As we sat down to dinner with friends, you gave my caged cock a squeeze. That was a thrill. Since then, we’ve gone from plastic to steel to titanium, each cage a little better, and you’ve been there all along, encouraging and supporting me. You’ve watched over my cock, always making sure I’m okay. Every new cage got a trial. We learned what worked and what didn’t, together. Eventually, we picked out my forever cage.
At first, you locked me because it made me happy. You’ve always done things to make me happy. Slowly, so slowly, you grew to want me locked. I’ve watched you grow as a Dom. I’ve watched you embrace owning my caged cock. You sometimes surprise me by how aggressive you can be. I want you to know I want more of that aggression. I love it. When you finally took my cock for good, telling me you will never unlock me and forever denying me a non-caged orgasm, it took my breath away. You hinted that even caged orgasms would be few and far between, or maybe never. You’ve replaced the sadness and disappointment I felt when I couldn’t use my cock to fuck you with the crazy, horny teasing and frustration of not be allowed to use my cock. I fell in mad crazy love all over again. I’ve never not loved you, but I didn’t know I could love you even more until that day. That Tripp amazes me and I want more of him.
You beat my balls. You collar and plug me. You milk my prostate. You put large dildos up my ass. All the skills you learned training your ass are being put to use on mine. You’ve learned how to flog and paddle me, and you do it now because you like it. There’s a fire in you. You’re lit from the inside and it casts its glow all around. I see your eyes sparkle when you make me squirm. You make my caged dick hard, so very hard. I want to go with you on whatever journey that side of you wants to take. I love you. My fist and the strap ons are ready anytime you want them. In the meantime, yeah, fuck your locked boy.