We’d spent the entire day walking and joking and eating and drinking and just exploring.  We’d never been to this town before – and that was why we chose it – just completely unknown.  Kind of lost track of the number of pubs and taste-testing of food.

It’s also been raining all day.  The kind of rain that defeats the umbrella – where it’s just insistent and continuous and you eventually almost give up on it… and just fold up the umbrella.

We’re soaked to the core.  The crowds are non-existent because of the rain and we’re enjoying just being silly, splashing around, goofing off a bit.

As night falls, the shops start to close up and we hunker down in a pub a bit out of the way that happens to still be open.  We’re looking for some drinks and food and you start dropping little hints.  You’ve turned the conversation into a bit of a Q&A, “what if I required you to do…” type questions.  It’s a little out of the blue, but for the most part, I can admit I’m game.

In one of the bigger conundrums of the chastity cage I’m wearing, each time you get a bit more strict, or descriptive, or even pushing into areas I’m less comfortable in, I feel myself pressing hard against the confines of the metal tube and then it subsides because you change the subject… and then almost like you’re trying to see how many times you can inflate/deflate, you circle back and bring up new ideas you have to try.

You can tell I’m uncomfortable and you don’t say a word.  You know precisely what you’re doing.

As we head out, you lean into me and grab my cage through my pants.  Hard.  I may have yelped a bit, but you pull me around the corner away from the walkway and lean up against the wall.  You’re dripping from head to toe, as am I.  It’s like we’re in our own open air shower.

You grab fistfuls of my hair and pull me to you, kissing me, biting my lip and making a show of pulling away and staring into my nearly panicked eyes as you do.  As you pull my head back a bit and release me, you lick a single drop of my blood off your lip.  You immediately pull me back to you and kiss me deeply, steering my head and pulling it to the side as you devour my neck, my ears.

This entire time it seems like the rain is driving at us – willing people away so we can have this time, this moment.  It’s like the sky has opened up and the only real sense I have of it is the water running down my face, across your face, down your chest.

I can see in your eyes that the mood has changed.  You’ve made that jump from playful to taking.  You’re taking from me at full speed.  My noises, my whimpers, my attempted pullbacks met by your snicker as you just hold on tighter and control my positioning.

I feel a rhythm developing between us now and you let loose with one hand and undo my belt, zipper and pants, but they’re so wet, they’re just not going anywhere.  I keep waiting for those magical words, “unlock now.”

You force your hand down while you continue to devour me.  We’re inching toward working as one as you keep leaning against the wall.  I’m grasping at your breasts, squeezing, rubbing.  We’re moving into animal mode and you’re moaning and even a bit of a growl coming from you at times as you regain some control and pull me back where you want me.  This has changed from all about making out to all about control and raw sexual energy.

Your hand finds me.  You wrap your hand around my cage and balls and squeeze.  Hard.  A white light flashes through my head as the pain registers and I find myself trying to bend over, but you have hold of my head and are looking straight into my eyes to see the pain register.  To see me fight it back.  To see me respond to your grip.

You don’t let go, but slowly lower both of us, me by my head and cock to the ground.  I’m kneeling before you now and you release my cage and put both hands in my hair as you slowly stand, lean against the wall and put one foot on a short wall next to us.

You pull up your skirt and pull me inside, the skirt nearly covering me as you pull my head to you.  You pause for just a moment and with a single pull, rip your panties off and put them in the band of your skirt, like dollar bills at a strip club, waiting to be awarded.

I can smell you in the air, in my mini-tent.  I don’t have to be told twice as I lean forward and nip at your thighs, kissing, licking my way up your legs.  I hear you growl again and reach in and pull me to you directly.

“Stop fucking around….” is all I hear.

I lick up the side of you, down the other side and flick your clit with my tongue.  I press my tongue inside you, alternating between what can only be described as fucking you you with my tongue and licking, playing with and teasing your clit.

You haven’t let go of my head and you pull me closer to you, it’s getting harder to find air as you use me to seek out your orgasm – I press my fingers into you, matching your rhythm with my head and and I can feel your legs beginning to shake a bit.

I try to slow down again, to let you build up more slowly, but you re-assert where you want me and what you want me doing – there’s no question what you want at the moment.

I keep up the pace, pushing you forward, finding a spot you like, teasing it for all it’s worth and then seeking out the next.

I feel you start to cum – I feel it from inside you first, then feel you close on me, my fingers, my tongue.  As if there was too much between space us at the moment, you pull me tighter still and close your legs around me as the orgasm takes hold.

I hear a single loud burst as you topple over and then you start giggling almost immediately when you realize the noise you’ve made.  I hear it echo through the streets and in the rain.

Your skirt is glued to me, my face is covered and you’re recovering against the wall.  I don’t move, giving you a little time to recover.

You pull me out from under your skirt and pull me up to standing.  You tell me to fix my pants and then I look at you.  Water running down our faces you reach up and gently wash my face with the rain.

“Such a good boy…” is all you say as you take my hand and we start to walk back to our room.  “Oh, and these are yours…” you say, pulling your panties from your waistband and pressing them into my pocket.