Dickmeat jacked his cock. It was okay. He was allowed to stroke, pump and edge his tool as much as he wanted. If he could find someone, he was even allowed to stick his thick rod into the mouth, ass or cunt of a willing slut.
The only hindrance was that he was only allowed to come if he was inside Mistress. Usually that was not a problem as Mistress’ slick pussy walls or tight mouth could squeeze the come right out of his cock in a matter of minutes. Usually.
This week was different. Dickmeat was on restriction. He was only allowed inside Mistress during her morning office break and then only for six strokes. That was it.
Restriction started three days ago. Dickmeat hadn’t climaxed since. He knew it was a myth but he swore his balls were swollen. His cock ached and longed for the sweet release of a climax.
That was why he was outside Mistress’ office. She worked from home and was currently on the phone with a coworker. The phone was on speaker and Dickmeat could hear the meandering conversation.
It was time for Mistress’ office break. She kept talking about return rates and points of contact. It didn’t seem to be wrapping up.
Dickmeat paused in his jacking to lick his hand. When the spit covered his cock, there was a slight wet sound that made him wince. He stroked a little slower, being careful to be quiet.
Mistress kept talking.
Dickmeat wondered if Mistress would skip her office break. She had done it before during other weeks but this week was his restriction. Would she deny him his one slim chance to come today?
Yes, Dickmeat realized. She would do it and not think twice about it.
There was a surge of tension. The thought of being denied pushed him to the edge. He let go of his cock like it was a live snake. If he came, oh sweet Jesus, it would mean the cock-cage for sure.
His cock twitched. He quickly grabbed his traitor tool and squeezed as hard as he could. The sudden pain was almost enough to make him come but the pressure on his cock was too tight. Slowly, the moment passed and Dickmeat was safe.
Wait? When did Mistress stop talking?
He peeked in the office. Mistress was standing up and bent over her chair. Her slacks were down by her ankles and her bare ass was exposed. In her hands, she was playing an online game on her phone. She was finally on break!
Dickmeat rushed into the office. He ignored the clock, not wanting to know how much time he had. It didn’t matter. All he had was six strokes.
He stepped behind her and took his dick in hand. Mistress’ pussy was so close but it might as well be a mile away if he didn’t get permission. A small whimper escaped his lips.
“You may,” Mistress said.
Dickmeat guided his restricted cock between her thighs, into her bush and deep into the slick grip of her divine pussy. Wet heat gripped his thick tool. The blessing of her cunt was around him once more.
Penetration counted as one stroke. It was cruel but true.
Dickmeat gently gripped Mistress’ hips. Tremors ran down his legs. He slowly pumped his hips.
Two. Three. Four.
It wasn’t going to happen. Dickmeat could tell. He had come too close earlier and the act of strangling his orgasm had set him too far back. If he had a few more minutes to get back to speed, then yes, maybe he could be ready to come inside Mistress and fill her sacred pussy with worshipper seed.
But it would not happen today.
Dickmeat kept thrusting. The honor of being inside Mistress was almost as good as an orgasm. And who knows? Maybe he would come in three more strokes after all?