We were sitting in bed, reading, when she set her book on her chest, looked over at me. "I looked at your blog yesterday," she said, "I didn't realize it had been so long."
I swallowed, felt my stomach tighten, knew she knew I was making a statement in a very passive aggressive way. "I...I didn't realize either...not right away."
"You said you wouldn't change anything, but that's not true, is it?"
"What...what do you mean?"
"This...all of this," she said, "our life...him...would you change anything?"
I thought for a minute, maybe too long. "No, I...I guess not."
"You know I would," she said. "I'd miss him, but I'd change if it wasn't right for us."
"It's not that that, Emily," I said, "I...I suppose I do miss it some."
"I wondered how long you'd go."
"Well of course," she said, "I assumed you'd ask, eventually. You could have...instead of blogging about it."
She knew me so well, she always has. "I...I guess I was afraid."
"Afraid I'd be mad? Sweetie, you're always allowed to communicate your feelings, you know that."
"I...I know...it's not that, I...I was afraid you'd say no," I said.
She thought for a moment. "I might have...but that doesn't mean I don't want you to tell me your feelings, Sara. I guess we kind of fell into this, didn't we, a month becomes two, three...six."
"I showed him."
I furrowed my brow. "Showed him?"
"I showed him what you posted."
"Not your whole blog," she shook her head, "I know you don't want him to see that, just the post."
"Em," I bit my lip, "that's...I mean..."
"Your thing, I know...that's why I just showed him the one thing."
I pondered for a moment, finally spoke. "What...what did he say?"
"He doesn't know you the way I do, Sara."
"What did he say, Emily?"
"He asked me what you were looking for? Just to be unlocked or more."
"I told him more," she said, not letting me finish.
"What...what did he say," I asked so softly I barely spoke. Her face was impassive; I couldn't read it. "Em, what did he say?"
"He was surprised we went this long without asking and was beginning to wonder if we were never going to ask because we were doing it without asking."
"No," I said.
"Well of course no, silly," she laughed. "I think he was relieved. Almost like we passed a test."
"Did...did you ask him?" I asked, worried she didn't, that I'd have to ask myself.
She nodded. "Yea," she said. "But I wasn't sure that's what you really wanted."
"I...I don't know," I said.
"That's what I told him," she nodded, "I mean, that's what I assumed."
"I know...I think he knows too...the intimacy thing we often talk about...he said we can, by the way."
"What?" I asked, almost not sure I heard her right.
"He said we can...if it's important to us...he understands...he said his views have never changed, it should just be rare."
"It's rare alright," I said.
"And that makes him happy," she said. "Just like it makes me happy...and you happy."
The room was lit with candles, we'd both showered, both dressed in lingerie. She wore a black lace and mesh push-up babydoll, matching thong panties, and black lace top thigh high stockings. I wore a white sheer pocket bra with breast forms, panties, a light blue satin slip with with lace trim, and stockings identical to hers but in white.
We kissed for several minutes, giggled, touched before she got the key. "I wonder if it still works," she said.
"No, silly, your penis. It's been locked up for so long, after all."
"I wonder if you want it to still work."
"Emily," I protested in a teasing voice.
And she teased right back. "Don't worry about it, sweetie, I'm sure it does...I'd hate to give you a mental block."
Yea, right. Because that's exactly what happened. As soon as the cage came off, I started thinking about whether it would grow, how quickly, how long, how hard, how fast. At first it didn't matter, for as we resumed our foreplay, it did start to swell. Started, anyway. Because I started to think about whether she'd feel it, whether she'd like it, what would happen if it didn't swell, what would he say.
And as I went down on her, she took it in her hand, played with it, teased it, and the more I worried about it not growing, the worse it was. It didn't grow, if anything it shrunk. It actually shrunk.
Emily reached down with her other hand, stroked my hair. "I told you," she said pushing my face into her, "you don't want it to work, do you?"
The thing is I did, I really did. But she was in my head, him too, and it wouldn't work, the more I thought about it, the more I tried to will myself to have an erection, the smaller and smaller it got. Smaller than it was in the cage, smaller than usual.
I think she sensed my conflicted feelings, my anguish, my sense that maybe this actually wasn't what I wanted. "You can if you want to, Sara, I mean it, you can...but you don't have to. And you don't have to want to."
"I...I don't know," I said.
"Let me help," she said in a soft, gently, loving voice. "Let me help." She pushed me onto my back, kissed her way down my stomach, licked my flaccid penis with her warm, wet mouth and tongue.
"Oh, god," I moaned, but still didn't grow. I couldn't think back to the last time she'd given me a blow job, couldn't begin to guess how long that had been. But as good as if felt, I still didn't grow. I liked, it, I loved it, but I still didn't grow.
"Emily," I cautioned her.
"Shhhh," she said, licking, sucking my soft flesh.
"Shhhh," she said again, "this is what you really wanted, to be soft...always soft."
The cum dribbled out, like when I'm milked, not like a normal orgasm. There was no eruption, no great explosion of tension. Just a soft release, tender, mild.
She kissed me, shared it with me, told me it was okay, that I didn't have to be inside her if I didn't want to.
"But I thought I did," I said.
"We can try again another time," she promised.
"I...I can't wait that long," I said, thinking six months out, spring.
"You don't, not to do that," she said.
"He's okay with that, love, it's just the other thing...his thing..."
"What...what do you want, Emily?"
"Everything just the way it is," she said. "Just the way it is."
I looked over at the cage, sitting on her nightstand, next to a candle. She followed my eyes, saw what I was looking at. "You know it's important, don't you?"
"Yes," I swallowed.
"We don't have to go that long, but we can't go without it, can we?"
"I...I suppose not," I said.
"Seriously, if you don't feel that way, you need to say something. I think it's important, but if you don't..."
"No...I...I do...you're right," I said, "I just...I don't know...sometimes I'm jealous."
"Yea...but any guy, I guess."
"Well of course," she said, "but that's not what you want, is it?"
"No," I admitted. "No."
She reached over, picked up the cage, looked at it. "On or off?"
"You ask that like I have a choice."
"You do, you know it," she frowned. "You always have a choice."
I sighed. "On," I said. "Just...six months is too long...I mean..." I blushed, we'd talked about this before. Over and over. A sissy doesn't dictate something like that, I didn't dictate something like that.
"I know what you mean...and no promises...if you know what I mean."
"Yes," I swallowed.
After I was caged...and locked...we kissed for awhile, no tension, no pressure, just us.
And so now it's been longer than six months since I've been inside her.
And it's going to be longer. And longer.