7 comments/ 49399 views/ 11 favorites Ladies' Man By: Cyanlot I get more pussy than any ten of you men reading this combined. Still, you may not envy me. There are different ways to "get pussy," it turns out. And the way I get it may not be the way you want it. On the other hand, I'm very much in demand by a lot of women, most of them pretty attractive. They tell me I satisfy them in ways their husbands and boyfriends can't, or won't. Not many of you can say the same thing. It's not as if I'm out living the bachelor's life. I've been married to Valerie for eleven years now—the first six had been happy. Valerie was a spoiled little rich girl. Her father was one of those "self-made men" who really thought he was self-made. None of it was luck; it was all his intelligence (though he was really a bit slow and bull-headed) and his hard work (well, I had to give him that). Jack thought no man was good enough for his little girl, his only child, and he seemed to think that I fell even further short of the mark than others. But Valerie loved me. Eventually, she convinced her dad that she couldn't be happy without me and he grudgingly gave his blessing to our marriage. I have to give it to Jack; he did more than that. He gave me a job in the business he'd built: a steel manufacturing business. It wasn't as if it was a industrial empire, but it was stable—growing slightly when the economy was good—and it produced a decent profit. And it certainly generated a high standard of living for Jack and his family. (They weren't running with the billionaires, but to a middle class kid like me, who met Valerie in college only because I qualified for a needs-based scholarship, they looked very rich.) The old bastard would probably have wanted to start me off as a janitor or an office assistant, sharpening pencils and sorting paperclips. He would have liked to test me as hard as he could and, I always suspected, he would have liked it best if I'd failed the test. It would have vindicated his original judgment of me. I'm guessing it was only by the grace of Valerie's appeals that I wound up starting in sales. I was just kind of an apprentice salesman, but I wore a suit and had a private office. And I was bound and determined to prove myself. Things worked out pretty well for the first five years. I learned the ropes quickly. I was good working with the customers because I was a pleasant and witty guy. I garnered lots of bonuses for getting some large contracts on favorable terms. Valerie was happy. We bought a house—with a lot of help from Daddy, but a house of our own, nonetheless. I think Jack was even beginning to reconsider his opinion of me. And then it happened. I fucked up. I fucked up badly—and very expensively for the company. I messed up a multi-million dollar deal and lost the company somewhere around three-quarters of a million in profit. It was my fault. There were no excuses to be made—not that Jack would have accepted them anyway. I knew I was going to take a lot of grief for my fuck up. But I never thought the son of a bitch would fire me—his son. He did. I was canned, out on my ass. And I wasn't going to get a job anywhere else in the steel manufacturing business; Jack made sure of that. Losing my job didn't have the same consequences for me as it would for a lot of men. I wasn't going to go hungry or lose my house—at least I wasn't going to get evicted. Of course, I couldn't pay the mortgage but "Daddy" saved his little girl from the embarrassment of having to move out of her lovely house. He made me sell the house to him and allowed Valerie and me to live there for free. Val had the income from a pretty significant trust fund, so she could still buy her expensive clothes and drive her Z4. (I'd never made enough to support her expensive tastes, anyway.) Now, she was also paying for everything for both of us. Not surprisingly, I went into a funk. I looked for a job and couldn't find anything at all. I went into a deeper funk. I wound up staying at home all the time, sometimes not even dressing properly for the day. I was in front of my computer most of the day. When Val came around, I was "looking for jobs." (You know those "Boss keys" that, with one touch of a key, will bring up a spreadsheet to cover your Tetris game or the porn site you'd been looking at? Well, I created my own version of that. Whatever I was doing—and Tetris wasn't my diversion of choice these days, though I was often up for porn—when I heard Val's steps approaching, I could press a hot button I'd assigned and pull up Monster.com.) I lost a lot of respect for myself. More importantly, Val lost a lot of respect for me. In fact, I think Val lost exactly as much respect for me as she'd ever had. She tried to be supportive at first, but as I sank deeper into my misery and showed no sign of pulling myself together, she started giving up hope. I could see it in her eyes. She thought I was useless. And she was right. I couldn't argue with that. Things took a turn toward my current state of affairs when Val came home late one night from a evening out with the girls. She'd been drinking--pretty much it appeared. I was at the computer, looking at some great porn, when she came in. I quickly hit the "Val key" when I heard her come in and pretended to be tuning up my resume. Val stopped by the door of the den, where I was "working," and just watched me for a second. "There's a good executive opportunity at the State Department of Transportation. I'm just going to tune up my resume for that position," I said in a way that I thought was convincing. It wasn't. "Oh, knock it off!" Val said with disgust. "Shut down your porn and get your ass into our bedroom." "I wasn't ..." But it was no use. She knew, and I knew that she knew. I wasn't looking for jobs anymore. And I guess she knew what I was spending most of my time doing. I shut down the computer and followed her to the bedroom sheepishly. When I got there, Val confronted me. "Ever since you fucked up at the company, you've been proving by everything you do, or don't do, that you're useless—that you're good for nothing." Her manner was dominating in a way that I'd never seen from her. I was stunned to silence. But Val had plenty to say. "I don't know why I stay with you. My friends don't, either, and my family certainly doesn't. All this time, I've tried to defend you. I've said that you'll get back on your feet. That you just needed a little time. But I don't think I can defend you anymore. I have to admit, even I think you're useless." I wasn't able to think of anything to say in my defense. And Val was still on the offense. So I just stood there and took it. "But then tonight, when I was talking with the girls at the bar, I realized that I hadn't really given you a chance. Maybe you're not useless. Maybe you are good for something." She was looking at me with a cold hardness that I'd never seen in her eyes before. "We're going to see!" And Val pushed me down on the bed. She'd never been physically aggressive with me before. Maybe over these past months that I'd lost all of the characteristics of a strong man, Val had been silently growing stronger and more assertive. And now, it finally burst out of her in this "over the top" way. Val climbed on top of me in a very dominating and threatening way. I didn't know what she was going to do. At first it felt like I was about to get a pounding from a grade-school bully. She was sitting on my chest and her knees were pinning my arms down. She could have slapped me, or punched me, if she'd wanted. And I couldn't have done anything about it. She was both physically and emotionally in control of the situation. But she didn't want to hit me. She had other plans. After she'd pinned me long enough to be sure that I understood who was in charge, Val moved up my chest toward my head. She pulled her skirt aside and planted her crotch squarely and forcefully on my face. And then she began grinding her crotch on my face. Her panties were soaking. It was clear that she'd come home extremely horny and didn't plan to go to sleep that way. She had no plans to satisfy herself by making love to her husband. No! She was going to use her husband in the most humiliating way. "Let's see if you're good for something," Val spit out viciously. She pulled her panties to the side. "Stick that tongue out and show me you're not useless." So that was it. If Val could use me, I wasn't useless. What a vile way to talk to—to think about—your husband. But I realized that I'd come to think of myself as useless, too. I'd come to feel as if I wasn't good for anything, either. It wasn't with undivided reluctance, then, that I complied with Val's command. I put out my tongue as far as I could and slathered it back and for the between her sloppy lips. I think Val may have found a side of herself that she didn't know was there—I certainly didn't. She was really getting off on this domination and control stuff—at least if the copious quantities of fluids running from her cunt were any indication. For a moment, I wondered whether she was so wet because she'd been with another man. But I couldn't convince myself to take that idea seriously. Val wouldn't do something like that and, besides, I knew her taste and this was pure Val—just a lot of it. Val's legs were still pinning my arms down but she leaned forward onto her arms so that she could position her clitoris right on my tongue. She was serious about getting off now and I wanted to get her off as quickly as possible, too. This was hurting my arms and making my mouth and tongue sore. The sooner this ended, the better for me. (But as soon as I had that thought, I realized that it was only part of the truth. I wanted to make Val cum because I wanted to feel like I could do something right. If I could cause her pleasure, I wasn't useless. Val was right about that.) When Val came, she came hard. Her hips were bucking and she was thrusting her pelvis into my face so hard that it hurt. But I kept my tongue out, licking her clitoris until she finally fell on top of me, exhausted and completely sated. I had to turn my head to the side in order to breath. But other than that, I dared not move. Somehow I'd accepted Val's dominance. We both knew now, that she was in charge. After she'd come down a bit, Val managed to take off her clothes and collapse into her side of the bed, quickly falling asleep. I joined her in bed, but couldn't join her in sleep. I tossed and turned for more than an hour, with strange thoughts going through my mind. I found myself stroking myself and getting very hard. It was clear that I wasn't going to get to sleep until I took care of my woody. I got up, intending to go to my office to find some good porn to whack off to. When I got to the door, I looked back at Val, sleeping peacefully. Next to the bed, her discarded clothes were in a jumble. Her panties were right on top. Without even being conscious of making a decision, I found myself walking back and picking up her panties. I held them to my nose and inhaled deeply. I felt my cock stir to the intoxicating scent. So my plan changed. Instead heading to the office to beat of to porn the computer—my usual way of getting off recently—I went into the guest bathroom with Val's fragrant, and still damp, panties. I found that I could put them over my head so that I could see out of the leg holes with the wet crotch covering my nose. The scent filled my nostrils and, when I stuck out my tongue, I could taste Val's juices. This made me completely rigid. I watched in the mirror, inhaling the exciting odor, as my hand pumped furiously on my hard rod. In moments, I was spurting string after string of cum into the sink. As my orgasm crested, I felt a violent, but incredibly pleasant, shudder go through my body. I was so drained by the experienced that I actually fell to my knees in front of the sink. I rested my head on the vanity and regained my composure, listening to my breathing slow and my heartbeat return to normal as I inhaled the wonderful scent of Val's panties. The events of this evening permanently changed my life—not just my relationship with Val, but my pattern of masturbating, too. I still whacked off to porn on the internet, of course, though I think my tastes in visual stimulation had changed somewhat. I became fascinated by crotch shots. In fact, I think I became something of a connoisseur of cunts. I noticed every slight difference between different women's cunts—how the lips hung, how the pelvis protruded, whether the clitoris was heavily hooded or barely covered at all, how large and hard the clitoris would become. These differences enthralled me now. And, when I was doing my computer porn beating off, it was usually to some slide show of slick cunts, or a video of a women fingering her wet cunt. But I also became an incorrigible panty sniffer. I can't tell you how many times I hunted through the hamper for Val's used panties. When I did the laundry—a task that was mine these days—I'd always hold out a couple of her soiled panties, keeping them in reserve so that I always had a supply. Sometimes, just before laundry day, I would gather together six or seven scented treats. When I was sure Val was gone for quite a while, I didn't head for the bathroom. I'd lie down on the bed, naked with the pretty panties next to me. One after the other, I'd bring each of the panties to my nose, sniffing the crotch deeply like a wine connoisseur sampling a flight of wines. This always brought my cock to its "full and upright position." And, as I got to the point where I couldn't resist jerking off, I'd settle on my favorite pair of panties—usually the one that was freshest—pulling it over my head to keep the aromatic crotch against my nose while I jerked until my cock spurted all over my stomach and chest. These were great jack-off sessions—always more intense than the quickies in front of my computer. Val had settled into a pattern of using me as her cunt-licker three or four times a week, usually after she'd been out with the girls, but sometimes first thing in the morning or other times when she hadn't been out. Funny thing was, I didn't really mind this. I always got incredibly hard. I never got off doing this. Val seemed to have no interest in me fucking her anymore. And, once when I began to stroke myself while I was licking her, she made it clear that all of my attention was to be on her pleasure. But it felt good to be hard with Val and I came to appreciate the satisfaction of pleasing her. I could always beat off later, in private, thinking about licking Val's wet cunt. After a few months, the pattern changed dramatically. The turning point was when Val came home from a night out with the girls. She seemed uncharacteristically pensive and she certainly wasn't interested in using me in the way she usually did after these girls' nights out. Instead, she began talking with me about one of her girlfriends. Cindy and her husband had been divorced about a year ago and Cindy was finding it hard to get back in the dating scene. In fact, Val told me that Cindy hadn't been with a man since she got divorced. Val and the other women felt very sorry for Cindy and most of their evening was spent commiserating with her. I told Val that I was surprised to hear that Cindy wasn't getting lots of dates. "She's certainly an attractive woman," I added (immediately wondering whether that was a faux pas). "I'm glad you think so," Val responded, looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher. "That will make this all easier for you." Okay, now I was really twisting in the wind. What on Earth could Val be talking about. I asked; she answered. "Well, you see," she said, pleasantly enough, as if we were talking about nothing of any significance. "I told Cindy and the girls that I would be willing to loan you out to help Cindy with her problem." Okay, this wasn't sounding too bad. Val wasn't giving me anything—except the opportunity to give her pleasure. If Cindy wanted a man and Val was okay with it being me, that sounded pretty good to me. Val saw my reaction and quickly squelched my growing excitement. "I'm not talking about you fucking her, you miserable loser!" She certainly knew how to take me down a few notches. "This isn't about you, so wipe that hopeful smirk off your face." (In fact, the smirk was already gone.) "You'll be taking care of Cindy's needs just the way you take care of mine." I still saw a glimmer of hope here, but I tried not to let it show in my expression. Val quickly extinguished that glimmer. "And I'm going to be damn sure that you don't get any ideas about doing anything more." "Too late," I thought. But I was smart enough not to say it. Val let me hang on her last remark, with no further explanation. The suspense waned over the next day—I just got distracted by other things. But when Val came home the next night, the suspense was ended, and not in a pleasant way. Val wanted me to service her, which was fine by me. She was in a very dominating mood and she pushed me down on the bed on my back, like that first time she used me in this way. But this time she said, she wanted me tied up and at her mercy. I couldn't see what harm it would do to be tied up. I was obviously already at her mercy in any case. If it helped her get off to have me tied, spread-eagle, on the bed, so be it. But when she tied me up, I saw the errors of my reasoning. She slowly removed a brown paper bag from her large purse. Out of the bag, she pulled a box that was plain white, with no apparent markings. She opened the box slowly, seeming to enjoy the suspense she was provoking. There was no need for her to rush; I was completely helpless; she could do what she wanted to me in her own sweet time. What she removed from the box filled me with horror. I'd never seen one before "in the flesh", so to speak. But I'd seen them in pictures and movies on the web. It was one of those clear plastic cock cages—a chastity belt for men. I said 'no' as forcefully as I could and began to thrash from side to side. Val seemed bemused, perhaps entertained, by my response. She was in no rush. She could take all day. Slowly, the realization of my impotence came over me and I stopped thrashing. I allowed her to slip the lexan sleeve over my shaft and lock it securely with a strap that went around my ball sack. My cock was trapped in a turned down position. There was no chance of getting a proper erection in this thing. That's not to say that my cock couldn't fill with blood. When Val crawled up on top of me and pulled her panties aside to cover my mouth with her sopping cunt lips, I felt how my cock filled with blood and tried to rise. But trying isn't doing. Hard as my cock got, it was restricted to a small diameter and consigned to a downward bend by that awful plastic torture device. It hurt. And it was frustrating. But my displeasure seemed to feed Val's pleasure. Soon she was thrusting wildly from an extraordinary climax. It was as if my enforced impotence intensified her orgasm. When she came down from her high, she was exhausted and apparently completely satiated. This was in marked contrast to me. My cock hadn't softened the entire time I was licking Val's cunt. The constriction was sometimes painful and always uncomfortable. After she left the bed to get cleaned up, my cock did soften, but I felt no relief. I was angry about being tricked, humiliated at being caged, and, most of all, frustrated about not being able to get off. Val came to bed, untied me, and was soon sleeping the sleep of the innocent, though she was anything but. What happened next still doesn't make sense to me. I couldn't sleep; I lay tossing and turning for over an hour. Finally, I got up. Usually, if I couldn't get to sleep, I'd whack off to some porn, or, more recently, to the subtle scents of Val's soiled panties. That was impossible now. Still, I found myself digging through the hamper in the bathroom for the panties Val had worn tonight when I'd taken care of her needs. They were soaked and I held them to my nose for a minute, inhaling the fragrance I'd come to associate with my own satisfaction. Ladies' Man What the hell was I going to do with them? I didn't know. But I stuffed them in my bathrobe pocket and sneaked through the bedroom toward the guest bathroom. Once there, still without a plan, I pulled the damp panties out of my pocket and slipped my bathrobe off onto the floor. I inhaled Val's scent again and watched as my caged cock struggled against its confinement. It suddenly occurred to me that I might be able to get this contraption off. I hadn't even really examined it closely. So I postponed whatever I was headed toward doing with Val's panties, setting them down gently on the counter, and sat on the toilet to examine my chastity device. I'm sure that with the proper tools, someone who was skilled (and careful) could get this thing off without causing me any damage. But I had neither the tools, nor the skill. And the damn thing was locked around my scrotum so tightly that the only way I would be able to get it off was by tearing my balls off. So, I stood up again and regarded myself in the mirror. Here I was—a relatively young, healthy, attractive guy. I should have been having a great sex with some beautiful woman. Instead, I was hobbled and humbled. I was in a fine mess, I realized. But there was nothing I could do to fix that now. No point dwelling on it. I put Val's panties over my head so that the moist crotch covered my nose and I could see myself in the mirror through the leg holes. I couldn't stroke my cock, but I could run my hands over my chest and thighs. This got me hard, which was frustrating and still a little painful, but it was exciting, too. Deprived of the ability to feel my touch on my most sensitive body part, I became intensely aware of the sensations in the other parts of my body where I could touch myself. It was especially exciting to touch my nipples. I'd never been particularly sensitive there before. But now, my nipples hardened and I felt a tingling through my body when I grazed them with my fingers. I realized that, while I couldn't expect any release, I was enjoying the sensations I was feeling. Then, with the panties still covering my face, I took this novel way of playing with myself to a new level. I didn't really plan any of this out. I just found myself doing things automatically. What I did now was to grab Val's hair brush, and push the fat handle of it into my mouth while I caressed my body with my other hand. I was sucking on the brush handle like it was a cock. This was remarkable to me. Of course there had been times when I'd thought about gay sex. Hell, I thought about a lot of different kinds of sex. But I was never attracted to men—not in the slightest. So why was I sucking on Val's brush handle like I was giving a guy a blow job? I didn't know. But thinking about that gave me another idea. I stopped my sucking and pulled out some hand lotion. I smeared lotion over the brush handle, stroking it with my hand, and then lay down on my back on the floor. I bent my knees and spread my legs. And then, slowly—very slowly—pushed the brush handle into my ass. I'd put things up my ass before, but only when I was beating off. The sensation of something stretching my sphincter and pressing on my prostate intensified my orgasm. But this was different. I couldn't stroke my cock and I certainly couldn't get off—I mean, ejaculate. This was a new sensation. Like the new sensations from caressing my thighs, my chest, and my nipples, this was different from any erotic experience I'd had before when masturbating. It wasn't about getting myself hard and shooting my wad. Now I was completely focused on the feel of this hard shaft penetrating me. This wasn't leading to any sort of orgasm, not even some sort of pseudo-feminism orgasm. I wasn't building to a climax. But I was enjoying what I was feeling. Unfortunately, because it wasn't leading to a climax, there was no natural stopping point. I tried this in several different positions. I lay on my side and fucked myself as if being taken from behind. Then I got on my hands and knees as if I was getting it doggy-style. And I got up on my knees and rode the brush handle, rising up and down on it the shaft as it pressed against the floor. After ten minutes or so, I just felt as if the need had passed. I got up, washed off Val's brush handle, put on my bathrobe and tucked Val's panties back the pocket. I went back to our bedroom, dropped the panties back in the hamper and climbed back into bed. Strangely, I slept like a baby, despite the weirdness of having my cock encased in hard plastic. The next day was Saturday—the day for my 'date' with Cindy. Most of the day I spent doing ordinary things, but from time to time I was reminded of my situation. Of course I was reminded of it whenever I took a leak. It was kind of hard to aim at the toilet bowl without straddling it with my legs. So I took to peeing sitting down. I'd also get a reminder when I moved in a way that caused my cock cage to rub against my leg. By mid-afternoon, though, I was pretty much accustomed to it. Don't get me wrong. I didn't like it any more than I had when Val had first locked it on me. But I didn't notice it as much as I had. As evening grew close, Val gave me instructions on how to dress. It seemed that she wanted me to look good for Cindy. This was to be a full date, Val instructed: drinks and dinner and 'whatever cindy wanted'. Cindy had gone a long time without that kind of male attention and I was to provide full service. Well, not quite full service. It wasn't as if Val was giving me the key to my cock cage. She wanted to do something nice for Cindy but apparently she had her limits—though I suspected that the limits were based less on jealousy or possessiveness than on the desire to control and limit me. "Make sure Cindy has a good time," were Val's last words. The date was actually quite pleasant. Cindy is very attractive. I didn't know her well before the night of our date, but I'd seen her and enjoyed thinking about what she would look like naked. She was petite, just over five feet, with a very trim figure, small but, it appeared, well-rounded breasts, and a cute heart-shaped face with shoulder-length hair. As we talked over dinner, I fell in love with her smile. When she smiled, the corners of her mouth turned up in the cutest way. I found myself thinking how nice it would feel to have my cock in her sweet little mouth. The swelling those thoughts caused quickly reminded me that this particular fantasy would not be played out anytime soon. Cindy wanted to go dancing after dinner. I don't like dancing and I'm certainly not much of a dancer, but it was Cindy's call. So we went to a bar that had a live band and a big dance floor. Though I don't like dancing much, I certainly enjoyed watching Cindy dance. She'd been a dance minor in college, which I'm sure helped her. But she moved in ways that I suspected she hadn't learned in any dance class. When she had her back toward me and was gently undulating to the music, I found the pressure of my cock against its constraint almost unbearable. Still, it was nice to watch her move. Later, when we got to Cindy's house, she poured us some wine and put on some music. Now she wanted to slow dance. At least I don't feel so much like a fool slow dancing and, besides, here no one could see us. It was nice to hold Cindy in my arms. She was so slender that I could almost reach completely around her with one arm. And she smelled wonderful. When we sat down on the sofa, she didn't make any moves so I suspected that she wanted me to take the lead. Maybe she wanted to be reminded of being seduced by a date. (It doesn't matter that we're now in a post-feminist age; lots of women still want to be "taken".) And, to tell the truth, the idea of seducing my beautiful date held its attractions for me, too, despite the limitations I knew existed. I kissed her and caressed her—first gently, then forcefully and insistently. And Cindy responded wonderfully. There's nothing like the excitement of first times with a new, and beautiful, woman: the first kiss; the first time she opens her mouth to your tongue, the first grope of her breasts; the first time sliding your hand under her blouse and bra to feel her breasts skin-to-skin; the feeling of sliding your hand up under her skirt, gently caressing her smooth thighs and finally resting your fingers on the warm, damp destination of her crotch (an ugly word for such a beautiful thing). I undressed her like one would on any first date with a gorgeous woman who was not only willing but eagerly responding. I kissed my way down to her lovely breasts. They were as beautiful as I could have imagined. Small, but firm and full, with well-defined nipples that stood up hard as I played my tongue over them. When I began to move further down, Cindy stopped me and suggested that we move to her bedroom. I followed her and watched as she unhooked her skirt and let it fall from her hips in the hallway. She was a lovely sight, walking into her bedroom in only her panties, high heels, and thigh-high stockings. If only I could take this evening to its natural finish. I lowered Cindy down onto the bed and picked up where I'd left off in the living room. I kissed her passionately and she opened her mouth to accept my tongue. As I kissed her neck and worked my way down her body, I was burning with passion—passion that I realized was not going to be quenched. But my desire was so intense that I couldn't have stopped myself if I'd wanted to, and I definitely didn't want to. Kissing Cindy's breasts, and sucking them into my mouth, was heavenly. I'm not a big-breast man but I'm a big breast-man, if you know what I mean. And I found Cindy's breasts absolutely perfect. I loved the way my hand could almost—but not quite—completely encircle them. And her nipples! They were the epitome of eraser-tip perfection. It was hard to tear myself away from Cindy's gorgeous breasts, but her sweet cunt was calling and I was eager to answer the call. As I moved down toward her crotch, I inhaled deeply. The scent was intoxicating. Over the past few months, I'd become especially familiar with the "scent of a woman," of course. But it had been so long since I'd been with any woman but Val that I'd sort of forgotten that there wasn't really *a* scent of a woman; there were *many* scents of *many* women. The sweet aroma of Cindy's was similar to, but different from, that of Val's. I probably couldn't say that Cindy's scent was objectively better than Val's. But—variety is the spice of life and I was definitely loving the spicy dish that was inches from my nose. I put my mouth over her mound and blew hot air through her panties. Cindy writhed with pleasure and I felt my cock pressing even harder against it's cruel restraint. I pulled her panties completely off and gently pressed her legs apart to give me access to her treasure. I'm not sure who got more pleasure when my tongue touched its target. Cindy twitched wildly and moaned loudly. But I, too, felt as if all the neurons in my pleasure center were firing at once. I was tingling with excitement, pushed all that much higher by the awareness of the effect I was having on Cindy. When I settled into a rhythmic motion with my tongue, Cindy's hips were rocking in synch to the rhythm. Though my tongue was mostly on her clitoris, from time to time I would slip down to run my tongue between her soft, warm, and now very wet lips. Cindy's taste was everything her scent had promised. I savored it, inhaling deeply to boost the experience even higher. When my tongue moved from her lips to her, now hard, clit, I moved one hand up so that I could slide my finger between her slick lips while I teased her clit with my tongue. For a man who was sentenced to chastity for the night, I felt incredibly powerful. I wouldn't be able to fuck Cindy, and that was a shame, to be sure. But I knew she wanted me desperately. And that made me feel great. As Cindy climbed the incline to her orgasm, she put her hands on the back of my head and controlled both the pace and the pressure of my mouth on her mound. Her breathing became ragged and her hips rotated in ever quickening orbits. And then she came! Cindy's climax was amazing. She screamed out with pleasure and grabbed my hair so tightly that it would have hurt if I hadn't been in my own strange world of pleasure—albeit pleasure without sexual satisfaction. Her orgasm went on, and on. I tried to pull away to catch a breath but Cindy would have none of that. She pressed my head back onto her mound—not violently, but with great urgency. It was clear that Cindy hadn't had this kind of satisfaction for a long time and she was not about to have it cut short. So I was back on her clitoris with my tongue. Breathing would have to wait. When her orgasm subsided from epic to merely incredibly intense, I moved my lips back down to her now drenched cunt and hungrily lapped up the juices I'd coaxed from her sweet cunt. When her orgasm had finally passed completely, it was as if Cindy wasn't inhabiting her body anymore. Her body lay limp, like a rag doll. There wasn't a flicker of a muscle movement, except that her chest was heaving to allow her to catch her breath. I pulled away and looked at her gorgeous body—stunningly gorgeous, it seemed to me now. I realized then that having your own orgasm wasn't the only way to feel sexually satisfied. I'm not saying that I didn't yearn to fuck Cindy and shoot my cum in her hot slippery cunt. I craved that! But I also realized that I did feel great satisfaction at having so completely satisfied such a beautiful woman. Eventually, Cindy rejoined the world. "That was wonderful," she said. "Amazing, really." She smiled at me and I smiled back. "I liked it too." And it was no lie. "You did?" Cindy asked innocently. "I wish ..." And then there was an awkward pause. It was as if Cindy was pondering the normal protocol where she would provide me with pleasure. Her awkwardness confirmed what I'd suspected. Val had told her of the limits of our "date" tonight and, I'm sure, told her how those limits were enforced. I'd suspected it when Cindy made no attempt to touch me, to feel my cock. But now I was sure. Cindy knew that I was impotent—by technology, not biology—but impotent nonetheless. Suddenly, I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. I wasn't quite sure why. I don't think it was just being made vividly aware the Cindy knew my predicament. I think it was the fact that she seemed to want something from me, that I couldn't give her despite desperately wanting to. My impotence was driven home to me and I hated how that made me feel. By the time I got home, all I really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and go to sleep. That wasn't what Val had in mind, though, and what Val had in mind was always what I had in store for me. Apparently the thought of her husband impotently servicing one of her friends was very exciting to Val. She pushed me down on to my knees and pulled apart her silk robe to expose her unpantied cunt. Even before I brought my tongue to Val's twat, I could smell and see her arousal. Her crotch was positively steamy; the aroma was almost pungent; and her lips were already swollen and slick with her juices. Tasting Val so soon after Cindy underscored the difference in their taste. What a wonderful thing, I thought, that there are different ways for a woman to smell and taste perfect. My thoughts of curling up and sleeping were behind me now. I was enjoying not only Val's smell and taste, but the effect that my tongue was obviously having on her. Val lay down on the bed and I climbed between her legs to finish her off. Now I could spread her thighs and really get into her cunt—only with my tongue, of course. Val was strong and aggressive. She held my head tightly and barked out orders to lick her faster and harder. The orders were completely unnecessary—for me, that is. Maybe that kind of dominance helped get her off. But I was willingly, eagerly, doing everything I could to please her pussy. When Val came, it was explosive. Her hips were bucking so hard she could have broken my nose if I hadn't pulled back. For the first time ever, at least with me, Val squirted when she came. It wasn't piss; it was a squirt of her love juice. Strangely, I found her ejaculation incredibly satisfying. Val was spent and just floated in ecstasy for a while. I collapsed beside her. I'd gotten incredibly aroused while I was licking Val's clitoris. My cock strained painfully against its plastic restraint. But I'd made my piece with the belief that I wasn't going to get any relief. I was surprised, then, when after a few minutes, Val began fumbling around with my cock cage. Her touch, which sometimes grazed the tip of my penis, got me aroused again. Then Val sat up and dug something out of the drawer of her night stand. She turned toward me and I saw that what she had in her hand was, literally, the key to my salvation. "Dare I hope?" I wondered. I did hope, and my hopes weren't dashed. Val carefully unlocked the cock cage. It was a little difficult for her to pull it off because my cock was semi-hard and quickly getting harder. But she got it pulled off. God that felt good! I didn't realize how awful the constraint was until it was removed. My cock was at full mast and I reached down to touch myself. I don't remember ever responding to my own touch as I did now. My whole body tingled with pleasure as I touched cock. And the feeling of my cock, hard in my hand, was incredibly empowering. For a moment, I hoped that Val would touch me. I wanted more than her hand lightly grazing the tip of my cock. What I wanted was her to stroke me with her hand, then—unable to resist—for her to take me in her mouth. And, finally, I wanted her to beg me to fuck her hard, the way I used to. Those hopes were dashed. "Do you want to have an orgasm?" she asked, as if there could be any doubt. "Yes ... please," I begged. "Okay. I'll let you." Shit, what had I become that I needed her permission to have an orgasm? But she was going to let me and that was all that mattered to me now. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be by her hand, even literally by her *hand*. It was going to be by my own. "Get on your knees," she said. When I didn't do it like she wanted, she said, "No, you idiot, get on your knees next to me and stroke yourself over my cunt." It's humiliating to admit, but I was happy to have even this opportunity to get off. I did exactly as Val instructed. I didn't want to take a chance on angering her and losing this opportunity to get off. "Now, you can stroke yourself as long as you keep telling me all the details of tonight. Start at the beginning and don't leave anything interesting out. And if you don't do it well, you'll be back in your cock cage without shooting your load. So I was kneeling over my quite beautiful wife's body, stroking my cock while I detailed my date with Cindy. I moved along pretty quickly through the early parts of the evening and soon I was describing the caressing and groping on the couch, then in the bedroom. It was pretty clear that this was getting Val excited again. She moved on hand down to her slick, swollen cunt and ran a finger between her lips. But it was having even more of an effect on me. This whole evening was Val's doing. Still, telling your wife about having sex with another woman and watching her get aroused by the thought is astonishingly exciting. It wasn't just for Val's sake that I timed my tales of tonight's events so that I described Cindy's orgasm just as I reached my own. I shot string after string of white cream onto Val's cunt and thighs. It was as if a huge reservoir had been gradually filled over the events of the evening and, suddenly, the damn had burst. Ladies' Man I collapsed on the bed next to Val, savoring the feeling of complete sexual release. It wasn't to last too long, though. Within a few minutes, I felt Val's hand pushing me down toward her crotch. I didn't mind what she was urging (forcing?) me to do so much as I minded being made to do it right now, when all I wanted to do was recover. But it was Val's call. I moved down and carefully licked up all of my cum from her abdomen, her thighs, and her slippery cunt. Of course, this got Val fully aroused and in need of relief again. So, I was back between her legs, working feverously on her clitoris again, trying to bring her to another crashing orgasm. And crashing orgasm she had. But then she was finished—completely finished—for the night. We both fell asleep. I slept as soundly as I ever had. So soundly that I didn't even rouse when Val, sometime during the night, locked me back in the cock cage. I woke up to the unpleasant surprise that I was, once again, Val's prisoner. When Val was taking her shower—a shower that she badly needed if she didn't want to smell like a cheap whore all day—I searched in her night stand drawer. Alas, that was only a temporary home for the key I so desperately wanted to find. Val went downstairs for breakfast and I took my shower, reconciled to my fate. Over coffee, I was to get a tempting teaser about other aspects of my fate. "I got an email from Cindy this morning," Val said, pausing for drama. "She liked being serviced last night. She liked it a lot." Not knowing where this was going, I didn't say anything. Val went on, "She'd like to have another date. Maybe I'll let her. And, who knows, maybe some of my other friends will be interested, too." Though she was treating me like her property, the prospect she was painting wasn't without its attractions. Val looked at me thoughtfully. "Maybe," she said. "We'll see." [Continued in Part 2.]