Chastity at 84
I am writing a letter to my tribe. I'll publish it here. It begins as a description of how my chastity intersects our sex life.
A Short history: My wife was not attracted to an FLR nor chastity so I needed to let go of hope, manipulation, resentment, etc. Giving up hoping that the other will change is a difficult skill I’ve been practicing for many years. It’s based on my belief that love is a room, a room I prepare for me to be myself and my loved ones to be themselves. The walls of the room close in when I resent and manipulate to get what I want from the other.
So I took charge of my cage, at first keeping it private so she not be exposed to it and feel pressured. As it became clear that this was my ritual, not hers, she relaxed and started to notice, glances, questioning pats on my crotch. It has grown to this:
In the morning I am sometimes caged, sometimes not. She comes beside me naked, takes me into her breast and offers her knee for me to rub on. Her little jerkoff boy. She lets me edge myself until she wants to get up. Sometimes she might smile and tell me I’m cute jiggling myself and I’ll confess how humiliated I feel. Other times she might talk about plans for the day or shopping, ignoring my frustration.
But she invariably reminds me when it’s my day. She’s taken on the amusement of having me on an ejaculation schedule of twice a week: Mondays and Fridays. It was a schedule I’d put myself on and mentioned it in passing some time ago. It amused her. I have felt for a long time that this is a more generous release than I need but she thought it right. So I kind of threw up my hands and said OK Whatever you say and gave all my squirts to her like when you hand over the ball. It was no big deal. I don’t really need many. My penis still gets involved in my anal orgasms, which are so filled with wonder, and so accessible.
And of course my penis is that friend who sits caged between my legs, who gets lots of attention in learning how to pee, how to hide your bulge, and it is a bulge because I insist the little guy be brought to attention by hooking the cage up to a cord around my waist and wearing a pair of tight stretchy hospital briefs to keep the balls front and center. Hence loose shirts. It's not about sissy. It's about keeping a pair of 84 year old balls from swinging about like elephants' trunks.
I don’t know what she’d do if I ‘cheated’ and stole an extra-curricula squirt. What if she didn’t care? That would hurt. So I dare not transgress. Once, perhaps a year ago, she forgot my jerkoff day and I didn’t remind her. Since then it has been like clockwork. It is clock work… her clock on me.