I love waking up. Not those alarm shrieking, got to get to work mornings, but those lazy mornings when I slowly rouse and my cock is hard in my cage. I wake grinding my hips into the mattress, pleasantly horny, my cage so very tight reminding me that I am a caged male. It’s mornings like that when all seems right with the world.
It’s a wonderful reminder of what I am. My cock, without my brain thinking about anything erotic, fills my cage as much as possible and I feel both the pleasure and the confinement. It’s days like that that I know this is how I am meant to be. It’s times like that that I feel one with my cage, that it’s a part of me, not a hunk of metal locked onto me, and it’s delicious.
The pressure of my cock pressing against its jail, and of that prison pressing back just as hard is an amazing feeing, and one only caged men get to experience. There’s nothing else quite like it. Sometimes it’s too intense. Sometimes I have to get up and piss to lessen the pressure, but usually I can just enjoy the melding of my body and my cage into one unit. I’m hard. I’m hard as I can be, but I’m also contained. I fill my tube until not even a molecule of air could slip through, and no more. Even as I grab my tube. I can’t touch myself, I can’t feel my hand on my shaft. It’s divorced. The absence of sensation a sensation all its own. A lack of sensation that is just so right. It screams “locked” in my brain, and it just feels so comfortable and correct.
It’s mornings like these that I reach out and pull my husband to me, that I slip my cage between his ass cheeks like I was still free, that I hump him even though there is no chance of penetration or stimulation . It is pleasure enough just to press my caged cock against him. To show him that even locked, he is what I want and need. That the desire still burns in me, perhaps even more so since I’ve been caged.
It’s been 3 years since I’ve penetrated Tripp with my flesh cock. I miss it, and I don’t. I mean, part of me misses it, but most of me prefers to be caged, always feeling the burn, yet denied. The fire is more intense because I am denied, locked, and know I always will be.