Guys’ Retreat Pt. 01

Amateur

Part 1: Going Away with the Guys

“No!” Nicole was adamant. “You’re not going, and that’s final!”

“But I have to,” I said, trying not to sound like a whining teenager—or, worse, an impotent wimp. “We’ve been doing this every year since we were in college.”

“And what happened last year?! …”

She just let that hang in the air and I didn’t really have a good response.

“Nicole … I’ve already apologized for that. What do you want me to do?”

“In the first place, I want you to really acknowledge how you hurt me and embarrassed me. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to go to your family doctor and tell her that, after eight years of a supposedly happy marriage, one that I’d committed everything to, I had an STD?”

“I’m sure it was awful,” I said, trying to sympathize. “And I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry about what? You’re sorry you cheated on me? You’re sorry you gave me the clap? You’re sorry you got caught? You’re sorry that now you won’t be able to go off with Kent and Vince again and whore around with sluts you pick up in a cheap bar or with real whores? What are you sorry about, Brian?”

“All of it. … Really, all of it!”

“Look, I don’t have time to hash this out more this morning. We’ll talk about it tonight, when we both get back from work. But don’t expect a different answer. Why would I agree that you can go off again to sleaze around and bring home an STD?”

“But, I wouldn’t. I promise.”

“Stop,” Nicole said, putting up her hand in the dismissive “talk to the hand” gesture. “I don’t have time for this now.” And she left, closing the door behind her rather more forcefully than necessary.

All day, I tried to think of some way to get Nicole to agree to my going off for the annual “Guys’ Retreat” with Vince and Kent. I didn’t really come up with anything, though, and was beginning to reconcile myself to not going this year—either that, or causing major, perhaps fatal, damage to my marriage.

I was delighted, then, when Nicole began the evening conversation saying, that maybe there was a way that she would agree to my going after all. I was less delighted when she laid out her conditions.

“Look, I don’t have anything against you spending time with Vince and Kent. I mean, I think they’re no better than you, but they’re no worse, either. And what they do is not my business. But I won’t have you humiliating me again. I won’t have you bringing back a disease. I won’t have you off whoring with your friends while I’m putting the kids to bed at night.”

“I won’t,” I pleaded. “I promise.”

“Your promise isn’t good enough. Your marital vows were a promise. Remember? And how did that work out?”

Now it was sounding to me as if I’d been mistaken to think that Nicole was relenting. But she went on.

“If you want to go on your little Guys’ Retreat with my permission, you’ll have to agree to be locked up.”

“What do you mean, ‘locked up’?”

“You know very well what I mean.” And she was right; I just wasn’t quite ready to admit that I understood.

“I mean,” she said slowly, as if explaining to a child, “you need to be locked in a male chastity device.”

“Awww, come on! That’s ridiculous. And it’s humiliating.”

“HUMILIATING! Don’t you talk to me about what’s humiliating!” (Okay, I get it: I shouldn’t have used the word ‘humiliating’.)

“Those are my conditions. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it. It’s up to you.” Nicole crossed her arms in an “and that’s the end of that” gesture.

“Oh, and I don’t mean one of those plastic devices with a flimsy lock that can be easily hacked or just cut off. I’ve done a little research. There are male chastity devices that are stainless steel and have very effective locks.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” I complained.

“Okay, then, is that a ‘no’ to the deal?”

Shit! It was a ridiculous—and humiliating—demand. poker oyna But I didn’t want to miss the weekend with Vince and Kent. Now, of course, I could have simply gone with them over Nicole’s objections. But I could see down that path far enough to know I didn’t want to travel it. That path led to divorce, alimony, and me living in an efficiency apartment and seeing my kids only every other weekend.

“I don’t know,” I managed to say.

“Well, you think it over. But don’t take too long. If you want to go, we’ll need to order an appropriate device on the Internet. I’m not going into one of those sleazy sex shops to buy one.”

And, there it stood until a day and a half later when Nicole asked me, “Should I order the chastity device?”

I couldn’t force the words from my mouth, but I nodded ascent.

I was happy to know that I could join Vince and Kent without destroying my marriage. And I had spent some time thinking about how I would handle things during that week. I assumed they would want to continue the tradition of trying to pick up women for some casual cheating. But I was certain I could bow out of those activities with some reasonable excuses. They knew about the STD issue from last year and I could simply say that Nicole and I were working on our marriage and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. They’d probably push back, but not too hard.

A week passed before Nicole got the package in the mail. Even though Guys’ Retreat was still two weeks away, Nicole insisted that we try out the device right away. She pointed out that she needed to know whether she could trust it (with the intentional implication that she couldn’t trust me).

And, so, after the kids were asleep, I was standing in our bedroom with my pants and underpants down to my ankles while Nicole covered my cock and balls with lubricant. The device had a ring that went around my cock and balls very tightly, and a solid stainless steel shaft for my cock.

Nicole fastened the ring snugly. It wasn’t going to slip off without totally destroying my balls. But she had difficulty getting my cock to fit in the shaft. Her handling of my junk had made me swell somewhat—not to a full-fledged hardon, but enough to prevent her from getting my cock in the cage.

I considered suggesting that she give me a blowjob to take care of the problem but, in a rare moment of judiciousness, decided that now wasn’t the time for such a suggestion.

Nicole had another solution. She went into the bathroom and returned with a cold, wet rag. Wrapping this around my cock led to a quicker, but less pleasant, solution to the problem and Nicole was able to put my cock completely into the sheath.

The lock was sophisticated, even if tiny. The key was like none I’d seen before. I was certain that there would be no picking the lock with a bobby pin.

“Okay,” I said. “It works. Now unlock this thing and take it off.”

“Oh, we can’t do that.” Nicole seemed pleased. “Really. We need to make sure that you can wear it for an extended period without any problem. It wouldn’t do for you not to be able to make it through the long weekend. So, we’ll just try it out for a few days.” Nicole smiled sweetly but her sentiment seemed anything but sweet.

“And, of course,” she continued, “you’ll let me know if there’s any problem. If you can’t wear it comfortably for the full time, we’ll just need to go back to Plan A and tell Vince and Kent that you can’t go.”

Well, that was manipulative! She was ensuring that her “test” would be successful because she knew that I would tolerate a lot to be able to go away for Guys’ Retreat.

And it was a lot to tolerate. It was always uncomfortable; sometimes it pinched; I had to sit down to pee; and it was downright painful when I got a hardon—morning woodies weren’t fun at all.

But I got through three days without complaining to Nicole. I tried to canlı poker oyna get her to take it off after two days but she started interpreting my pleas to be released as complaints that I couldn’t take it and she was toying with forcing me back to “Plan A”. So, I tried to appear as cheerful as possible about agreeing to another day in the cage.

On the morning when I was to leave with Vince and Kent, the kids were down the street at friends’ houses playing so Nicole and I were alone. I was all packed with my bags by the door when she called me into the bedroom.

“Drop your pants,” she said in an unnecessarily authoritarian tone. But I was in no position to complain so I just did as she ordered.

She slathered some lubricant over my cock and balls and proceeded to fasten me securely in the steel trap. The lock shut with a forbidding click, sealing my sexual fate for the next four days.

Okay, I thought. This is bad, but I can take it for a few days and it will be fun to spend the time with Vince and Kent.

Just then, I heard Kent honk his horn. I pulled up my pants and fastened them, went to the front door to grab my bags, and left. There was no goodbye kiss, not even a “have a good time, honey”.

As always, Guys’ Retreat would be spent in the cabin near Lake Tahoe that had been in Kent’s family for a long time. It was comfortable but not fancy. And it was extremely secluded, which meant that even before recreational weed was legal in California, we could smoke freely without concerns.

The drive up was uneventful. I was painfully aware of my chastity device but Kent and Vince wouldn’t have suspected anything was amiss. Most of the first day was devoted to a serious grocery store and liquor store run and getting things set up in the cabin. It had only two bedrooms. Kent got the main one, of course, and Vince and I would share the other one, which had two twin beds. I reminded myself that I’d need to be a little careful of how I was dressed. No walking around in my underwear and I’d need to roll out of bed directly into my pants. That seemed doable.

By the time we were all finished, it was really too late to go into town and hit a bar. And, besides, with the beer that we’d all drunk, none of us were really in any condition to drive the winding road into town. I was happy for that. One less time that I’d need to come up with an excuse not to go with them to try to pick up chicks.

But, though Kent and Vince weren’t planning to go whoring, they weren’t interested in being choir boys, either. Kent pulled out a joint, lit up, and started passing it around while Vince put on some porn for entertainment. It was pretty standard stuff, really, given what you can find now on the Internet: straight, oral, anal, three-ways, gang bangs, interracial, and so forth. I said ‘standard’ not ‘tame’. It was all hard core porn. That was fine.

What wasn’t fine was when Kent began stroking his cock. At first, it was just rubbing his crotch through his pants. Vince and I both teased him.

“Ann not giving you enough these days?” Vince taunted.

“I get more than you beta boys do,” Kent shot back. “We alphas just have much greater needs.”

He didn’t seem at all embarrassed to be rubbing his cock, even when he’d produced a visible boner.

Vince was inspired to begin stroking himself, too. And Kent took this as permission to get more explicit. He undid his pants and pulled out his hard cock, stroking it until it was at full mast.

Vince followed suit. I sat there uncomfortably squirming. I’d prepared excuses for why I couldn’t go with them to pick up chicks. But I hadn’t prepared for this. And, while they were both pretty engrossed in what they were doing, it’s not like they didn’t notice what I wasn’t doing.

“Come on, Brian,” Kent said. “What’s the matter? This stuff doesn’t turn you on?”

“It’s fine. I just don’t feel internet casino like it now.”

“Maybe Brian needs something else,” Vince teased. “I hear Nicole cracked the whip pretty hard after last year’s issue. Do you have any femdom stuff? Maybe that will get him going.”

My ears burned at this. They had no idea that I was locked in a cock cage by Nicole. Still, the reference to femdom porn hit too close to home.

“Maybe straight stuff doesn’t interest him anymore,” Vince went on. “Maybe we need to get him going with some good gay porn.”

Kent piled on: “How about that, Brian? I don’t have any DVDs but we could pull down some good stuff from the web if that’s what floats your boat. Would seeing some dudes sucking and fucking each other do it for you?”

It was all innocent teasing. Just guy stuff that was all too typical during Guys’ Retreat. But it was really embarrassing me. I had no good response. I just repeated that I wasn’t in the mood.

It was Vince who moved things from banter to action.

“Come on, B-boy … What does it take to get this guy going?” he said as lunged over and grabbed my crotch.

It was so fast, so unexpected, that I couldn’t deflect his hand. He only intended to give me a quick grab on the crotch. But it was long enough. I’m sure it took him some time to process what he’d felt. But he knew instantly that there was a reason I wasn’t in the mood.

“What the fuck!” he blurted out. “What the hell’s going on there?”

I couldn’t answer. I just sat there, beet red and wishing I could disappear.

“Come ‘ere and check this out, Kent. Brian’s sporting a cock cage.”

“Knock it off and leave me alone.” I tried twisting away from Vince. But, in a flash, Kent was on me, too.

They were being jerks—pantsing me as if they were middle-school bullies picking on one of their classmates.

It was two on one and Vince and Kent were persistent. Eventually I quit resisting, It was futile. I let them strip me naked.

“Stand up,” Vince ordered. “I want to see your shiny new toy?” My spirit broken, I complied.

“Turn around … slowly … let us see this baby.”

“So,” Kent piped up, “how’d you get yourself in this predicament? Do you just like having your junk in a cage?”

“No. … Shit! … Of course not. You know that Nicole found out about last year, and in the worst possible way. She’s never forgiven me and she wasn’t going to let me come this year unless I agreed to be locked up.”

“So, you’re officially pussy whipped, huh?” Vince offered helpfully. “What do you mean ‘she wouldn’t let me come’?”

“On, yeah, Vince,” I replied. “You talk a big game. Sherry dropped you big time and how are you doing now? I didn’t want to end up like you: divorced, never seeing my kids, living in a one-bedroom dump.”

There, that not only explained why I’d agreed to Nicole’s terms, it hit Vince right where he was vulnerable. A victory of sorts but a short-lived one. After all, I was standing naked in front of my friends—or, should I say “friends” in quotes—with my cock locked in a stainless steel cage and my wife—miles away now—having the only key. It was clear who had the power here.

Vince leaned over and whispered something to Kent; I couldn’t hear what. But they got involved in a hushed conversation and I took the opportunity to reach down to grab my clothes, hoping to be able to get dressed.

Without stopping their private conversation, Kent rolled over onto my clothes putting a stop to that plan. When I started to leave the room to get other clothes, Vince barked out, “Stop. Don’t move. Just stay right there.”

I don’t know what would have happened if I’d just ignored him. I felt like I didn’t know these two guys anymore—my best friends for over a decade. I didn’t know what they were capable of. I just knew it was two against one and I was on the losing side.

So, while they finished their whispering, I just stood there—naked, exposed, embarrassed, and humiliated.

I’d soon learn what my “friends” were capable of. And it would take my humiliation to a new level—one I didn’t know existed.

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