The Reunion - Part 3

Part 2: [https://www.reddit.com/r/ChastityStories/comments/1kxlc1o/the\_reunion\_part\_2/](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChastityStories/comments/1kxlc1o/the_reunion_part_2/)

I can't concentrate on anything. The quarterly reports blur together on my screen as my mind drifts to Christine, to the weight of her cock in my hands, the way she looked at me with those dark eyes when she called me hers. Every shift in my chair reminds me of the cage, of the harness pulling tight against my hips.

By lunch, I've accomplished nothing. My coworkers are talking about weekend plans, but all I can think about is the outline of Christine's cock beneath that white towel, how it pressed against the fabric even when she was soft. I excuse myself and head to the bathroom.

In the stall, I fumble with my belt, desperate for some kind of relief. But there's nothing I can do. The cage holds me completely, and touching it only makes the frustration worse. In desperation, I reach behind myself, pressing against my hole through my pants. The pressure feels good, different, and I find myself pushing a finger inside, trying to recreate some shadow of what I imagine it would feel like to have Christine inside me.

But it's not enough. Nothing happens except more precum leaking into the cage, making everything slick and uncomfortable.

After I get back to my desk and I could finally get some work done, my phone buzzes with a text from Christine. It's a photo, and my breath catches in my throat.

She's lying on her couch, legs spread, covered only by a thin white sheet that clings to every curve of her body. The outline of her cock is clearly visible, thick and long against her thigh, with a dark wet spot at the tip where she's already leaking through the fabric.

"Thinking of you," the message reads.

I have to grip the edge of my desk to steady myself. The cage feels impossibly tight now, and I can feel more precum leaking out, soaking through my underwear. The rest of the afternoon passes in a haze of distraction and arousal.

By five o'clock, I'm a mess. As I stand to leave, I realize with horror that there's a wet spot on the front of my jeans where I've been leaking all day. The smell of sex clings to me, musky and obvious.

I rush to the bathroom, splashing water on my face and trying to clean myself up. I even splash water on my shirt, making it look like an accident to explain why I'm damp.

As I'm leaving the building, scanning my keycard at the front desk, the receptionist looks up at me with a knowing smirk.

"Have a good evening, David," she says, her eyes lingering on my waist where the harness lines are barely visible through my shirt. "That looks like a tight fit you've got there."

My face burns red as I realize she knows. Somehow, she can tell what I'm wearing underneath my clothes.

"I... what?" I stammer.

"Your harness," she says casually, as if we're discussing the weather. "Must be quite the commitment, tell her she is lucky girl!"

I can't speak. I just nod awkwardly and hurry out of the building, my face still burning with embarrassment.

The drive to Christine's apartment feels endless. Every red light is torture, every turn reminds me of the cage, of her photo, of the way she looked when she told me I belonged to her. By the time I reach her building, I'm practically vibrating with need.

I ring her buzzer, and she lets me up without a word. When I reach her door, it's already open, and the smell of cooking food drifts out into the hallway.

Christine is standing at the stove wearing nothing but a small white apron tied around her waist. Her back is to me, and I can see the curve of her spine, the gentle swell of her hips, the way her hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders. The apron barely covers her front, leaving her completely exposed from behind.

"Hey, baby," she says without turning around, stirring something in a pan. "I'm making us a snack. Sit down, relax."

I try to sit at her small dining table, but I can't take my eyes off her. Every movement she makes is graceful, hypnotic. When she reaches for something on a high shelf, I can see the curve of her ass, the way her cock hangs between her legs, soft but still substantial.

"Can you take off the apron?" I ask, my voice hoarse with want.

She turns to look at me over her shoulder, a playful smile on her lips. "Only if you get naked too."

I don't hesitate. I strip off my clothes quickly, the harness and cage finally visible in the soft light of her kitchen. She watches me with obvious appreciation, her eyes lingering on my caged cock.

"Look at you," she says, untying the apron and tossing it to me. "My good little boy, all locked up and leaking for me." she throws the apron onto the couch with the more grace I have seen from a person, her stiffening member swinging.

Her cock is already hard as she turns back to the stove, and I can't resist anymore. I move behind her, my hands finding her waist, sliding up to cup her small breasts, then down to trace the curve of her hips.

She leans back against me, and I can feel her cock pressing against my caged one through the flat metal. The sensation makes me gasp.

"Please," I whisper against her neck. "I need you."

My hands move lower, reaching for her cock, but she catches my wrists.

"No, no, no," she says with an exaggared grin. "That's not for hands. Mouths and asses only. Maybe some frotting if you're being good boy and stay caged."

I press my cage against her, sliding it between thighs, balls and cock, making her cock press up against our stomachs. She moans softly at the contact, I leave a trail of precum on her slender body.

"God, you're so worked up," she says, turning in my arms. "Do you want me?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

She slowly turns around, turns off the stove, grabs my waist and turns me around, bending me onto the kitchen island. The cold surface against my chest makes me shiver, but then I feel her hands on my ass, spreading me open.

"Hold still, sweetheart," she murmurs.

She reaches around and rubs my cage, smearing a handful of the precum that's been leaking all day onto her hand, then I feel her spreading it my ass and on her cock. The head presses against my hole, warm and slick.

"Breathe," she whispers, and then she's pushing inside me.

The stretch is intense, almost overwhelming, but I want it so badly that I push back against her. She goes slowly, letting me adjust. When her had is fully inside me, I can feel a jolt, an accomplishment, pleasure, and something more deep. Finally I feel her hips against my ass and realize she's completely inside me.

"Fuck," she breathes. "You feel incredible."

She starts to move, slow at first, then building to a steady rhythm. Her hands grip my waist, pulling me back onto her cock with each thrust. I arch my back, and as the angle changes, she hits something inside me that sends sparks through my whole body.

"That's it," she says, her voice strained with pleasure. "You're taking me so well."

The sensation builds and builds, different from anything I've ever felt. There's pressure, warmth, a feeling like I need to pee that makes me panic.

"I'm going to pee," I gasp. "Christine, I think I'm going to—"

"It's okay," she says, her thrusts becoming faster, shorter. "That's not pee, baby. That's your body submitting to me. Just let it happen."

The feeling intensifies, and I start to shake, moaning into the counter. Just as the sensation peaks, I feel Christine tense behind me, her cock pulsing inside me as she cums with a soft cry. She slows down, finishes with a couple of big, long, strong thrusts. I can feel her balls hitting my caged balls from behind, the feeling is a little painful but more frustrating, as I can also feel my pleasure subside.

She pulls out with a wet sound, and I can feel her cum leaking out of me. My ass throbs, but it's a good kind of ache.

"Sorry," she says, breathing hard. "You felt too good. Round two will last longer, I promise."

We clean up quickly, and she finishes cooking while I take a proper bath. When I come out of the bathroom, I realize my clothes are gone.

"Where are my clothes?" I ask.

She points to the washing machine, then to a pair of small boyshort briefs laid out on the bed. "They were dirty. These will fit you better anyway."

I stare at the tiny shorts. "Christine, I can't wear those."

"Be a good little boy and put those shorts on," she says with authority. "Your ass will look great in them."

I oblige, the shorts are incredibly tight, squeezing my thighs and ass, making the outline of my cage obvious. But when I look at Christine, her cock is already getting hard again.

"You look perfect," she says, her eyes dark with want.

Without thinking, I go to the couch, get on all fours, and pull the shorts down just enough to expose my butt.

"Please?" I beg. "I want to cum. Please?" I ask with a soft voice, as I blush beyond anything I could imagine, waiting for the warmth I felt minutes before.

She abandons the cooking again, walking toward me with her cock swaying left and right with each step. When she reaches me, she pushes my head down into the cushions and pulls my hips up.

I feel her line up with my hole, and then she spits on her cock and pushes inside. It's rougher this time, a little dry, but the pleasure of being stretched and filled overwhelms any discomfort. I can feel her girth stretch my insides, pushing on my prostate, the lovely warmth I have felt returns.

She starts fucking me hard, each thrust pushing my face deeper into the couch. When she settles into a rhythm of fast, short thrusts while buried balls deep inside me, I feel that familiar pressure building again.

My hands go weak, and I collapse completely into the couch, held up only by Christine's grip on my hips. The orgasm builds slowly, then crashes over me in one long, continuous wave. Instead of the sharp pulses I'm used to, my cum just pours out in a steady stream, soaking the tight shorts.

"God, I love this," I gasp when I can finally speak. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. That was the best orgasm I've ever had." I finish with a shaky voice.

Christine just smirks, her cock still inside my ass. "I think you can do it again."

She tells me to flip over, fulls her warm cock out of my ass, then peels off the cum-soaked shorts, dropping them behind the couch with a wet sound.

"Your cage looks so good on you," she says, using some of my cum to slick her cock. "After today, maybe you don't need to use your cock anymore."

She slides back inside me easily, my hole still open from before, my legs spread out on the couch. The pleasure hits immediately, and I arch my back, moaning.

"Maybe your little penis can stay locked so you can appreciate my cock the proper way," she continues, finding that perfect rhythm that makes my vision blur.

She picks up the pace, and I feel another orgasm building. In missionary, I can feel her stomach bumping the cage, my balls. It hurts the good way, like when a sore muscle is being massaged. With each thrust, her pelvis also hits my balls, mixing my pleasure with pain.

"Feel my cock in your hole," she says, her voice commanding. "Your body knows to submit. My cock isn't just bigger, it makes you mine. You haven't touched your little cock since yesterday, and you're about to cum a second time with my cock in your ass. Think about that!"

The words push me over the edge, and I cum again, harder than before, my whole body shaking as more cum pours out of my cage. There are no pulses, no shakes, just a single, long wave of pleasure forcing the cum out of me. It feels like Christine’s cock is the tool that can just squeeze the pleasure out of me.

She pulls out, grinning, it feels like something that I need escapes my body, something I crave.

"I really like you, you know. Not just because you're cute and nice and accepting, but because your ass feels amazing. I think I could fuck you for a lifetime."

She uses her still-hard cock to slap my cage, splashing cum everywhere. I whimper at the sensitivity, my cock can’t handle her, she stops, starting to jerk herself off instead.

When she cums, it's an impressive load for her second orgasm, coating my stomach and thighs. I watch her balls move as she climaxes, realizing they're much larger than mine too, sitting tight in her smooth sac, moving up to almost her cock as she orgasms.

"Damn, that was great," she says.

We shower again, then sit down for dinner. The food is simple but good, and I realize I'm starving.

"So," Christine says, twirling pasta around her fork, "tell me about your day."