The Story of a Caged Coc

I woke up this morning with what should have been morning wood. My cock was straining to become erect, but the steel cage surrounding it dashed any hope of an erection. Every day this happens. Every day for the last four months, and every day for the foreseeable future. Each morning around 5:00 I wake up to the discomfort of blood trying to fill tissue that is restricted by walls of stainless steel. What could have been a hefty 7.5 inch piece of meat with a large mushroom head is now a pathetic, frustrated attempt to grow my manhood stunted by metal. Usually I can take a leak and get back to sleep for a while, the pressure from my bladder relieved.

Did I mention that I have to sit to pee now? No more standing with my hand aiming a stream into the bowl. No more shaking it to get the last bit of piss out. I piss like a girl. Sitting. After the last bit of liquid leaves my cock, I have to take toilet paper and blot the remnants from my nutsack where the messy stream strayed. Then poke through the holes in the cage to soak up the piss that remains.

Masturbation is out of the question. I can't even touch the sensitive parts of my cock. Even if I could get hard, there is nothing I could do about it but remember how good it felt to jack off. If you aren't familiar with chastity devices, I'll give you an Idea of my situation. There is a metal ring that circles snugly around my nutsack and cock. Then a metal cage slides over my shaft, engaging with the ring. A padlock secures the device. Locked like this, technically you could pull your limp dick out of the tube. Even though it would be awkward, jerking off would be possible. In my case, a titanium lock runs into my urethra, through my PA piercing and then through a hole in the cage. Short of ripping my dick there is no getting out.

I got myself into this situation. It was actually my idea, a way to improve my relationship with my wife. She hated my porn addiction and chronic masturbation. I tried therapy, support groups, will power. None of that kept me from stroking my cock. I was waking up very early and sitting at the computer for hours, browsing porn and edging. I watched a lot of gay porn, with hundreds of twink videos saved on my computer. I loved seeing a nice cock spurting out a big load of cum. I loved seeing cum drip out of pussies too; I didn't restrict myself to gay porn.

Four hours of stimulation was common, two hours routine. I rarely let myself cum when binging on porn. I loved the feeling that ongoing arousal gave me. Occasionally I would culminate days of holding back orgasm by stopping at a nearby convenience store / gas station. I would enter the men's room, pull out my cock and parade around the empty restroom, stroking slowly. Near the door was a long counter with two sinks and I'd stand facing the mirror jacking off, my heart pounding knowing that someone could walk in while I was doing the deed. Speeding up my strokes I climbed closer to climax until I erupted, shooting wads of thick gooey cum across the counter. The taboo nature of this fueled violent orgasms and I often left a significant load on the shining surface. Tucking my cock back in my pants, I'd leave my mark thinning on the cold counter. Looking back I'm ashamed of the disgusting habit. Leaving your seed for someone else to clean up is warped, foul and perverse. It's strange how a sex-fueled mind can make something like that seem OK.

Changing rooms were a less frequent location for my pleasure, but on at least two occasions I took shorts or pants into a fitting room and stripped naked. Laying the garment on the seat, I enjoyed watching my hand move the length of my member in the mirror. Again, even a remote chance of being caught increased the sensation. Rooms with a curtain were preferred to those with a door. Pretty soon I would climax, aiming my cock at the piece of clothing. Seeing my white spunk soak into a pair of black nylon shorts or blue jeans was a thrill I can't explain. Dressed again, I would walk through the store carrying the soggy garment that now had an odd odor and hang it back on the rack. After the black shorts, I returned to the store a week later and found the same pair still hanging on the rack. One leg had a crusty stain where my cum had dried. My cock swelled. Another revolting situation that I thought nothing about. Today, I'm disturbed that I could do this and deeply regret my actions.

Between releases when I was stoked on porn I would stop at another gas station on my way to work when it was quite busy. The restroom had three urinals next to a stall, then the handicap stall. It's a nice, fairly new building and has LED lighting with a fixture right above the first stall. After passing the sink, you are facing the right hand side of the stalls with urinals on your left. I'd take the first stall and start stroking my cock. The bright light cast a clear shadow of my arm moving, clearly in view of anyone approaching a urinal. The shadow would be near the right foot of anyone standing at the third urinal. I would touch myself enough to stay hard but when I heard the door open I went for it, stroking steadily and making my shadow arm mimic my motions.

Eventually I got bolder and would slide my ass to the end of the seat and point my shaft toward the door of the stall, creating another shadow on the floor behind my feet. About a third of my cock was projected on the floor, with my hand appearing and disappearing as I slid along its length. The knowledge that others knew what I was doing was like a drug that intensified my excitement. After ten minutes or so, I would be dangerously close to cumming and would wrap up my little exhibitionistic session. I would stand, pull up my pants and buckle but leave my cock sticking out for one last show. When the next victim entered the restroom, I would hold my erection out so that wonderful LED light cast its image on the floor between me and the bowl. Taking some toilet paper, I made a show of wiping my cock dry of the precum that had coated it. The shadow was so crisp that the bulbous ridge of my cockhead was clearly seen on the tiles. Often I'd leave the stall while the stranger was still urinating to see who I had subjected to my twisted little vice.

I tried to be conscious of who was entering, listening for voices. Even though this was in a commercial district, I did not want to expose children to my behavior and would stop if I heard a child's voice. Of all the times I did this, there were only a few occasions that elicited any reaction beyond avoiding the nearest urinal. Once a group of young men entered, talking and laughing. One quipped "I stopped doing that years ago" and they all laughed. Most memorable was when a man took the urinal nearest me and I could hear grunts and heavy breath as he stood only feet away. He left and as another man stepped near the urinal he said "ewww", moving to another. I exited the stall and looked at the wall that had separated me from the grunting fellow, seeing strings of ejaculate running down the partition. My cock surged in my pants and I left satisfied that my actions had aroused another.

Almost certainly my most depraved action was when driving to work early in the morning while it was still dark. Traffic was sparse, but my route carried quite a few semis. I began pulling out my cock and stroking it while I drove in the left lane. If a semi was near, I would speed up or slow down to be next to the cab then turn on my dome light. I would pace the truck, becoming more aroused as I masturbated in view of the driver. Usually I only stayed there a minute or so, long enough to know they had a good view of my throbbing cock. One trucker kept with me as I tried to drive away. I sped up, he sped up. I slowed down, he slowed down. Keeping his cab right next to my passenger window, he wanted to keep watching so I kept stroking. Soon, the thrill of being watched overcame me. My cock spasmed, shooting streams of semen into the air. Once again I considered a perverse, and in this case probably illegal, act to be acceptable.

The worst of my behavior was eliminated after therapy, but porn and masturbation continued as part of my life. When my wife and I had sex, I was a flop. Because I had countless hours of edging built up, once I penetrated her it didn't take long for me to dump a load of cum in her. Life was all about me. My penis. My erections. My pleasure. My orgasm. I knew something had to change and change drastically. I ran across a book that suggested intimacy can be restarted through a combination of mindfulness and chastity. The concept of being mindful of your partner makes perfect sense, being aware of wants, needs and desires. The chastity part threw me for a loop at first, but the more I thought about it the more logical it became. I'm giving up my selfish behaviors and making my wife part of every decision regarding when and how my penis is used. Put a lock on it, give her the keys and together we decide if it's the right time for me to be released and what happens after I'm released.

I presented this idea to her and she agreed we could try it. While finding a device that fits well and is comfortable took some trial and error, I now wear a contraption on my genitals 24/7. On Saturday morning I get unlocked so I can do a thorough cleaning of the cage and my junk along with a shave, then right back on. Usually at some time over the weekend one of us initiates sex. This is a totally different experience than before. Foreplay is much more extensive and because my cage is still on it's mostly focused on her. I've gone down on her more in the last few months than I had in years, sometimes bringing her to orgasm. If my tongue gets her off, I probably just sacrificed my opportunity to have sex with her. When the key is produced, my cock is uncomfortably pushing against the cage trying to become erect. Precum is already flowing and upon release I very quickly become fully erect. If she's been satisfied orally, I usually get a nice handjob and shoot a healthy load of cum across my chest. If my efforts down below got her warmed up nicely, we have fabulous sex. While you would think that having been denied for at least a week things would build to climax quickly, sex lasts longer now than it has in years. The intimate contact is intense after having no stimulation for days. Her old trustworthy vibrator is used much less because she either climaxes while I am tonguing her or she is close enough when we begin that she doesn't need the extra help. And when things settle down again, the cage is put on once again.

So here I am, waking up with an uncomfortable cock that wants an erection badly, rising to relieve my bladder and sitting on the stool to piss. Dabbing dribbles of urine from my cock and balls. I haven't had the pleasure of lubing up my hand and stroking my shaft. I rarely get to even see my cock. And I've never been happier.