Cruel intentons

It’s been a long week. A long three weeks actually. Working for up to 15hrs a day, an hour away from home. There has been no time for wanking. My balls are heavy, and every day for the last week at least I’ve woken with the hardest of erections. I’ve not cum for ages.

This last point is also tied up with the fact that We’ve not had sex since my Wife went back to work after Xmas. (We had a brief fumble, at Her instigation, but that went nowhere good pretty quickly, and She positively rejected a positive advance of mine, and later issued an unsolicited acknowledgement. But there has been nothing of any consequence, and none of the bumper pack of jonnies has seen action.)  She did postulate that a change of contraception might not be a panacea for Her libido, and that work related fatigue might play a significant role. Well that seems to have been pretty much confirmed. Oh well.

This morning, boner like steel, I reached for Her in bed … and nothing. Not even a flinch.
Fuck it!
I rolled over and started to tug on my cock.
If I masturbate in bed when my Wife is next to me, I always try to do so surreptitiously.
Not this morning.
Today I wanted to get caught.
I wanted Her to know I am feeling sexually frustrated and need some ejaculatory relief.
I wanted Her to notice me wanking.
Next to Her.
I wanted to provoke a reaction.
I stroked harder than usual (in the circumstances). Faster, longer, more vigorous movements. And probably for something like 10-15 min. Pretty much non stop. I made little effort to restrain the movement of our shared duvet.
It is entirely possible She was asleep and completely oblivious to my ministrations – I wasn’t going for it with the fervour I would usually muster if I intended to shoot my load. As much as I wanted to.
She never moved.
Reluctant to have to deal with the a handful of jizz right then, and my head clouding with negative feelings about the circumstance, I gave up and rolled onto my front, crushing my wood into the mattress and my face into the pillow.

A whole 3 or 4 minutes later, She put Her hand on my shoulder.
Nothing more.
I rolled back, and … reluctantly? … put my arm around Her. She snuggled up and rested Her arm across my chest.
My cock was still as rigid as it ever has been, and at its most twitchy. It bobbed up and down every few seconds, an automaton of intent, moving the bedclothes against Her arm.
It is impossible She didn’t notice. And …
Nothing.
Still nothing.
I adjusted my position very slightly, so the movements of my cock and the duvet would be even more obvious to Her. Not that I could have needed to.
And more nothing.
The radio alarm clicked on and She headed to the bathroom. Before She’d walked half way round the bed, my fist was pumping hard at my member. admittedly, in Her freshly woken haze and the dark, She might not have noticed my thrashing, but I could hear the bed creak, and I intended Her to too. I can’t believe She was unaware. And …

Nothing.

As She showered, I wanked harder and harder. And the clouds of angst filled my head again.
I didn’t want to cum. Well, I did. Fuck yes I did. But I want to cum when I’m thrusting into Her cunt. And with the rediscovered insensitivity brought on by wearing a bicycle inner tube on my cock, I really would like to maximise my chances of shooting my load in Her pussy by not doing so on my own. The clouds were joined by demons. And I relented.

I felt grumpy.
Frustrated.
Horny.
Horny.
Horny.
So fucking horny.
And frustrated.
And grumpy.

Once the rest of the family were down at breakfast, I showered, turned the bedroom light on, drew open the curtains, and reached into the darkest depths of the bottom drawer in the dresser. I pulled out a black pouch, and from that, a cotton bud, a small pump bottle of lube, a padlock, and my CB6000s.

WPcb6s

Infinitely more carefree than when usually using such toys, I sat naked on the bed, the door open, family within earshot, and encased my genitals in the crystal prison.

Why? you might well ask. Why not just have a fulfilling wank and relieve some tension? Why put on a chastity cage for which you have the only keys, especially when what you crave is the antithesis of enforced chastity? Why indulge in autonomous cruelty? Good questions, Good Reader, but I have no good answers. For these, or the questions of how I can find something approaching sexual satisfaction with my Wife.

20 Responses to “Cruel intentons”

  1. 😦

    Nice picture though 😉

  2. This post is particularly painful (and its not the plastic lock thing you have on). If its any consolation, u have company – for a second i thought i was reading myself – grumpy, frustrated and horny. Sorry, not much consolation i guess. Hugs!

    • Sorry to hear your feeling grumpy, frustrated and horny too. Am we to assume these are not unrelated? There really should be Sexaholics Anonymous groups where we can all get together, vent our grumps and the sate each other’s horniness. That said the “plastic lock thing” might get in the way. Ha ha! They’re actually surprisingly comfortable and not remotely painful … though they can get quite uncomfortable if you get an erection … which is half their point 😉
      (It amuses me greatly that at least two readers seem to have assumed the photo is of me.)

  3. MySideOfTheStreet Says:

    I’m with Dawn D 😦

  4. So I couldn’t help but wonder if the pics was of you too. lol

    I have to know, is that thing painful? Uncomfortable? What do you get out of it, when you aren’t getting it from your wife? Anything? I’m super intrigued and also, hurting like crazy for you. It wasn’t so long ago I was in your position and I don’t think the memory or feelings associated with being turned away like this ever go away. 😦

  5. I think your wife probably realised what you were doing. She didn’t react maybe because she was annoyed with you and preferred to ignore you, instead of having a conversation with you. I am not saying that what you did was wrong. I am far from it, and I think you were justified to do that. I am just saying it from a woman’s point of view, who also was in a similar relationship before.
    BTW I am still surprised that with all this sexual frustration you are with her, and you are not cheating on her either.

    • I confess I’d be slightly confused if She was annoyed. She knows I wank, and doesn’t seem to mind. I guess She might have objected to me tossing myself off next to Her, but if that was the case, why reach over to me when I gave up. You may well be right, but at best there are a whole heap of mixed messages I struggle to translate.

      Circumstance, both social and professional, are probably one of the biggest factors in me not playing away from home. It’s really not something I particularly want to do, and I’ve not always been able to occupy anything but the foothills of the moral high ground. If I were working full time in the Big Smoke again, and if an attractive, playful client was amenable to some flirting, I can’t say my resolve wouldn’t weaken, but I don’t see envisage there being any other available pussy in the foreseeable future. I guess internet infidelity is a safer option anyway.

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