CHAPTER 1

“What doesn’t hurt doesn’t work” is what they say about old age. As we entered our sixties there was some truth in that. We could still do things, but with more of an effort and sometimes a groan. Bunions on the feet, intermittent aches, and of course spectacles to drive and to read. Still, we could get around all right and still hadn’t lost our marbles!

Sex had gone (as in the old joke) from tri-weekly to try weekly and was now try weakly.

Lubricant had been a godsend earlier, but was no longer magic. For a while she had been able to wank me up enough to penetrate, but it didn’t last for long. So what had once been a Sunday orgy was kissing and cuddling after a shower. I still fancied her like anything, and she knew I did.

I remember something I heard on the radio a while back, to do with a foreigner learning English. They had been asked if they were willing and able to donate to some good cause, and had answered “The willing I have. The able I have not.”

This was our joke about sex. The willing I definitely had, but I was a bit short of the able.

In our sixties it was understandable. What else did we expect? I know there were things a doctor might prescribe, but it wasn’t exactly life-threatening, and it’s not the sort of thing a man feels like talking about.

We could still manage our jobs but were looking forward to retirement and were Silver Surfers on the Internet.

It was there I found out about cock cages, and had a laugh with my wife. The things they come up with today! We’d been a bit adventurous – by which I mean we’d tried different positions and anal -but it was certain neither of us were into bondage and sadomasochism, so we never considered it for a moment.

However…

Once you get onto something on the internet it remembers and suggests it again. So links were suggested to me. With nothing really more important, I clicked on one or two, which encouraged it.

There are lots of things we look at but don’t actually do. New recipes or ideas for the garden; DIY tools (OK, I bought some but never used them); places to visit, and so on.

I don’t know why, but I somehow wanted to try one. There was no actual reason. Like the unusual recipes that we had finally tried but never again. (We found out why they were unusual – generally too much trouble and weird rather than delicious.)

I was looking at a website when my wife came in, and asked me why.

“I don’t know. It’s a bit interesting,” I said.

She laughed.

“If there’s one gadget we don’t need, it’s something to stop you getting it up!”

Very true, but I still couldn’t get it out of my head.

Sex is interesting. Weird sex is weirdly interesting. You can read online about people getting up to also sorts of shenanigans without having any intention to do the same. Just the idea of having the urge (willing, but not able) and being stopped was exciting. Remembering how my cock had been so strong, and how good it felt when it strained against her hand sometimes.

I was Sahabet willing but not able. What would it be like to be able again, even if I was prevented?

Some weeks later she found me looking at it again.

“You want to see how it looks and feels?” she said, not mockingly but in a kind way.

“If you want do, get it. Then we can put it in the cupboard under the sink, along with the other gadgets we never use.”

I laughingly said of course not, but could not restrain myself (ha ha) from actually measuring up and sending for a fairly cheap one.

CHAPTER 2

Amazingly she didn’t laugh. Instead she took charge, which was generally the best way in our marriage. Her way of doing things was often done after mine had failed, so I had learned to trust her.

“Well, it’s certainly raised your interest,” she remarked as I enlarged and we failed the first time.

She tried again later when I was unprepared and got it on.

“Well, it looks strange. How does it feel?” she asked me.

“Strange,” I said.

“But not hurting?”

“Not really.”

“OK we’ll try it for an hour, or if you tell me it really hurts.”

There didn’t seem any point, other than as we had bought it we might as well use it, but she went through the recommended procedure to get me used to it for longer and longer periods, just at home, of course. In the beginning the padlock was in place but not locked, but eventually it was locked, and she was the one who decided how long.

She ordered a more expensive one which fitted better and got rid of some chafing. It was also stainless steel instead of chrome.

When she went out she took the key. There was another one in the freezer, frozen inside a block of ice. In emergency I could get it out by melting the ice. I thought about it a few times.

Eventually I managed the night.

Finally I came home from work on Friday, showered, and was locked until Monday morning.

We still had our Sunday snuggles, but they were different. There was no trying to get me hard enough to fuck, and she couldn’t suck me. Instead I concentrated on enjoying and pleasing her. It took a few weeks, but finally she gave herself up to it. Instead of the fifteen minutes at most we had managed with kissing and fucking, we were now making love for most of an hour. Just caressing her and kissing her face and breasts until she was ready for me to use some lubricant. It was best if I took it slowly, eventually finger fucking and clit stroking till she actually came!

A sixty-two-year-old woman having an orgasm! It was the best sex I’d had for decades.

We’d never done much in the way of foreplay, and neither of us had any other sexual partners. So far as we (or at least I) had understood, fucking was the great thing, so we just got on with it. We hugged and kissed in normal life (our kids said a bit too much), but I suppose sex was something snatched between work, kids and the practicalities, always with an eye on the clock and hoping not to be disturbed.

We Sahabet Giriş (or at least I) had scarcely thought about sex apart from the ritual times.

You know when you’re challenged not to think about an elephant. It’s easy if you’re not trying to. Now the cage was asking me both physically and mentally not to think about sex, so I was.

I even looked at some porn on the internet, which I hadn’t really done before. First of all I looked at women being thoroughly fucked, and thought how much my wife deserved it. But then I moved on to videos of girls masturbating, which looked so glorious as they went into orgasm. And I thought how much I loved my wife, and how she deserved it. I’d bought her a vibrator ages ago, but couldn’t persuade her to use it, so it was long gone.

So I carefully built up my caresses, till finally she accepted me going all the way and I gave her an orgasm. I was excited as well, and my cock was straining, but there was a sort of perverse pleasure knowing it couldn’t stop me pleasing my love in this way and just going for a fuck.

And since my fingers didn’t need to erect, we didn’t have to keep it to Sundays. I had to persuade her a bit, but soon it was Sunday and twice during the week. All that mattered was me being caged when I was home. There was shopping, of course, and gardening so I wasn’t usually caged all weekend, just as much as we could manage, and most evenings.

Sometimes she unlocked me, and I was able to get hard enough to fuck her. Yes, really. Stopping me erecting gave me erections like I hadn’t had for years.

After a couple of years she bought a new cage, a softish pink plastic one. It was more comfortable, but best of all it didn’t show as much through clothes, so I learned to manage at work. The padlock was replaced with a plastic snap hook from a key ring. It kept the parts together securely, and we weren’t doing female domination. She wasn’t keeping me caged, I was. It was really the other way round, her telling me to take it off for hygiene, cleaning or some kind of sex. She liked to give my cock a suck (but not till I came) occasionally for old times’ sake.

CHAPTER 3

Since then I’ve been caged all the time every day, except where there’s a reason not to, such as a medical appointment. And hygiene of course, or if she fancies a suck. But never a fuck – that’s really the point of the cage.

I am just so in love and lust with her. When I had an ejaculation, it really turned the lust down, and I eventually said unless she wanted it, I’d prefer to manage without. She said she was only really doing it for me, because she thought I liked it. It is, it’s good for a few seconds, but not as good as pleasing her for an hour.

And I persuaded her to let me try cunnilingus. She’d never been keen on the idea – feeling she was dirty or something, as a lot of women do. But there was more on the internet by women complaining their partners want oral but won’t give it. It’s been very worthwhile. It’s an utterly erotic feeling Sahabet Yeni Giriş touching her in a way even more intimate than with fingers and seeing and feeling her response. She bought me a new shaver to get really smooth beforehand. I also keep my nails short, and smooth them with an emery board.

She liked a finger or two inside as well, sometimes, but I found it a bit awkward. We had a chat and she agreed to try a dildo, starting with a small one, and moving up to what she found best. Just being filled up while I worked around her clit and lips was best – easier for both of us.

That led to another chat, and it wasn’t difficult to get her to agree for me to get the harness to hold it and fuck her. We don’t do it all the time, but she likes it occasionally, and of course it means I can go on exactly as long as she likes. Fingering and cunnilingus are our main activities on top of kissing, cuddling and breast play. I really didn’t feel her boobs enough before, and we both lost out. After forty years, I am always pleased to see them and like them even more in my hands or on my face. She is amused but appreciative.

She offered to use the dildo on me, but I turned it down. I think I was afraid I might like it. It’s supposed to make you come by stimulating the prostate, and I wouldn’t feel so deprived. It’s the being prevented which is so hot and makes her so desirable.

I do sometimes lose sperms when we’re making love in one way or another. I think they have to come out sometimes for good health, I suppose. No big deal either way.

I never imagined a woman in her sixties could be so sexy, but she is. I’m just in awe of her body and how it performs. Her pleasure is amazing to see and hear, and she can have so much!

She is so utterly beautiful.

There’s been something else, which is a bit of fun. It started when I was caged at work. We found that some women’s panties were better than men’s underpants to support the metal cage, so I’d been wearing them for a couple of years. Having to sit down to pee, of course, and wearing female panties started the idea of getting me dressed like a woman. She got me wearing a skirt or dress at home, then a lace vest at work under my clothes.

I’m certainly not trying to change sex. There’s only one woman in our marriage, and I appreciate her as a man does. But when we both retire next year she wants to build up to having me go out in public, possibly to the supermarket, dressed as a woman with makeup. I have only slightly more hair than Homer Simpson, so there will have to be a wig, but she’s got me wearing a bra around the house, and trying on other clothes. It’s mainly funny, but anything that pleases her, I’ll be glad to do. We’ve had enough years of conventional sex and conventional life. For the remaining ones we want to have all the fun we can.

And amazingly that means lots of sex. I am pretty much turned on all the time and get so much happiness from seeing my wife’s wonderful pleasure.

I’ve got an idea she’ll want to try fucking me in full female gear eventually, and I’ll probably agree, so long as it’s for her enjoyment, rather than mine.

I don’t think there’s going to be anything stopping us having fun for a good few years yet.

We’ve actually got a smaller cage, and I don’t want ever to be let out.

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