Hi, I am new here and also new in chastity. Let me briefly tell you my story (and excuse my Germanized English). In 1980 when I was 16 years old, I read an ad of an 18 year old blond woman in my quarter, offering "Natursekt" (Golden Shower). The next day by chance, my friends and I were talking this and that while playing cards at school, as one for whatever reason explained what that was. I got excited. Actually I have dreamed of it already in the third or fourth class (I still dream sometimes from Claudia’s wide pelvic area in her dark red jeans, and yes the two of us were 9 years old, maybe there from came my later kick). And here it was suddenly in reach. I wanted that. Now. After having masturbated about it quite a lot in the following days and asked several lady colleagues of her about their rates, I took a box of chocolate and a bottle of Crimean champagne and managed to go there – for the very first time in my life (both: having sex and seeing a prostitute). Michelle opened, hardly smiled, and I was blown away. She let me in. Obviously, she was as young as told in the ad, having a racy figure in a tight wine-red bustier and jeans from grey cord velvet, golden hair and deep green eyes. It turned out to cost DM 200,- which was exactly the amount of money I had with me. Sure, I hadn't planned to spend it all, but though I had to, now. To my surprise, things turned worse when I found out that the "Girls Champagne" wasn't included and should cost an extra DM 100,- (which I didn't have). After that break, she took my dwindling penis into her hands, fitted him somehow half up, using even warm Penaten Oil (since then I love its smell), and as you may already have guessed, no happy ending this time. I was deeply ashamed, broke too – and hadn’t had a chance to try to taste any girls pee yet. Especially not hers. And as frustrated as it sounds I went home. However, aside from school I had a job (selling newspaper), and after I met her by chance in a Woolworth market (not knowing what to do – since she was alone, I greeted her – and she answered me, wow) I urgently had to manage to get another DM 300,-. Trying not to smoke and drinking Dads beer instead, it took me another couple of weeks to scratch the money together. I called her number – no answering tone. I went there and rang. She had left. Believe me, I couldn't forget her in the upcoming years. And I decided no more to go to a prostitute ever again. I really didn't for almost a decade or so, had two girl friends in the mean time and even some one-nighters. And sex went well, no run-downs, nothing premature, just a little too seldom with a little too few, overall. Nothing special insofar. Okay, one exception happened, and I have to tell you since it permanently changed my view about peeing girls and its taste. One beautiful summer day in 1987 my girl friend has sent me off, in order to do her household, run some chores, or whatever. Coming home, a newspaper laid around, and I called a woman, like in trance, arranged intercourse with her and golden shower and set off immediately to see her. No, I did not think at my girl friend, then. She looked good, as I somehow remember, although no more details (and I mourn about that, believe me, and that I don’t know her name anymore, too). I remember that I was pressed in a tiny shower bath while I squatted under her sweet blond pussy, she being so high that I just could not quite reach her, while I was holding myself tight on her outer thighs with my hands. She gave little portions, easy to slug, getting bigger little by little. I drank it all. And I remember its color, clear and yellow; it was salty and a bit sour with a strong taste after licorice. The last one I never found anyplace else (licorice eating doesn’t help). In 1989 I visited a friend who still lived in Frankfurt, and thereby went grocery shopping. I got struck. It was her. Slim, grey cord velvet jeans, white T-shirt with some rhinestones, no bra, deep green eyes. Although she wasn’t alone, I followed her and after 2 minutes she had reached her place and went in there, her friend moving further. You may again rightly assume, that I did not have no money to pay her that moment. But I had to. Now. There was no way to let her go again, this time maybe even for good. I figured her name was on the bell and then I looked out for her phone number: Michelle was listed in the BlitzTip newspaper. I called her (+49-69-437270, still working) and learned that I had to pay DM 350,- for what I wanted. I told my parents an awkward story about whatever I needed DM 400,- for stuff and reparations in my apartment, they obviously really believed me, and off I was. Not to Munich to see my girl friend as I had told them, but to see Michelle. After I took a shower and shaved of course.
On my way there I remembered the champagne and pralinés from our first time and I also got long red roses for her. She opened, let me in, very business-like, and I realized that – of course – my own deep impression by her met oblivion. However, this time we worked it out, at least once. And unfortunately so quickly that I wasn't even able to put my penis into whoever’s vagina. She laughed and now remembered the last time, and that I didn't meet her expectations then neither. Not that it made me feel any better, now I was even more ashamed than the first time, but this time she offered me a glass and we still talked for a while, or at least I tried to, but I don’t recall a single word. And I was hooked and I still am. Needless to say, that we still meet. Still by far not as often as I wanted to – she hasn't changed since about that, but why should she – and since I live back home again, we meet like once every two or three months or so. But I am allowed to call her every once in a while and we talk. Did I tell you, that I’m not her most ancient customer yet? There even are several before and around me, since she had started sexual service with 16. Some time ago I was in the hospital checking a knee operation vs. conservative treatment and had a tiny single room for myself. You may not know, but a week there lasts centuries, leaving nothing but awful memories. Having my cash card at hand I called Michelle and surprise, yes she came. With bad news too, since in the real hospital setting Golden Shower was a no-go, she still couldn’t give me no reduction nor any other service like French kissing her (she principally doesn’t kiss neither), since her prices had risen recently. Our currency had switched from DM to € and a session without any extras to € 200,-. Just to make one thing clear: I knew and I know exactly what I am doing and surely I am aware that this kind of relationship is nothing like a normal one nor equal and furthermore, that my sexy slim Michelle (and she has wonderful natural breasts too) is by far no one of the cheapest in the business. On the street at the central railway station the service starts at € 20,- getting up to € 50 – 100,- for general service in the whorehouse (maybe € 200,- without condom) and up to € 250 – 300,- for an hour with a first class domina there – which is about what I’d pay for full service in a good studio too, with open end upward – and nowadays with Michelle € 300,- until the first orgasmejaculation in the hour too. Which is if I want it or not our deal.* And when she comes to see me, she never takes any additional call-out fees from me. She then was nice anyway, gave me a careful hand job with her full fist of warm oil and a strong vibrator on my scrotum and left me her cigarettes, when she went. Later I learned that this service happens to be given much more often in German clinics all over the place, than I would have thought. Actually, who wouldn’t have thought so upfront or denies it may ask himself about his own prudence. The next was my last full day in hospital and in the early afternoon I went to the cafeteria and took place at the empty table. The next moment a light blond smile beaming from clear blue eyes sprang and bubbled over perfect teeth while slightly touching my right shoulder with her breast as she sat down with a friendly “hi”. Her incredible red mouth ate me while she gobbled her fruit salad up and when she left she grabbed my hair with both hands to pull my head at her heart. As I learned, Lady Yvette was 23, a hit in German red-light forums and since 5 years self-employed. Her specialty is 1 – 2 liter golden champagne directly from her source. Despite being an experienced strong-willed domina (able to let her wishes be full-filled, cruel when necessary and a wonderful source of joy and excitement) she lived her Fetish in her own studio and her Medical Profession in her own white room – while having given up her coffin since a while. I was baffled and that kept. Especially since I know now much more than then. To make a long story short (I want to keep the women’s private sphere), in the next five years we were an official couple – with occasional but explosive sex. And believe me, she knows what she’s doing. But while she had more than enough of that through her profession, I felt not been taken enough care of while suffering over the day towards nothing. Even worse, I did not keep enough attention for her shopping needs, didn’t care for her social life, didn’t bring her to gregarious parties nor went with her to Ibiza or elsewhere. Nothing. This may sound familiar for the one or the other male here and not only the younger ones. I started learning when she had ended our relationship after 5 years of unearned heaven. I may again not be alone here. Furthermore, until now I haven’t realized that many women don’t like sperm. Both, Michelle and Lady Yvette never have touched me with their bare hands but always have used surgical gloves and especially when they had to deal with seminal liquid – of course also in private. Apart from its potential infectiousness (and possible financial long-term consequences) to many it stinks like boars – especially when her cycle is not conform and when she is not supposed to have her time, tools, opportunities and acquaintances to experience her own orgasms and sexual fulfillment.
I got a hint of it once when Michelle happened by chance to produce a ruined orgasm by constantly stroking and breaking off again, talking and giggling in between and then suddenly stopped, while my sperm was oozing out slowly like here. She laughed out loud, complaining about not having used a condom earlier, while I screamed in desperation. Nevertheless the job – as usually – was done for her and after I had cleaned up myself, she left after another cigarette.* I sure know how I felt then, and I swear that the time until our next meeting was extra hard. No, it was no release at all. Something else not now to be discussed here, but mentioned: my feelings toward Michelle were shaken. Not because of her or her behavior and neither through Lady Yvette’s personality. I was shaken, not they and I did not know what to do. Michelle, whom I urgently wanted to call, was here and now the wrong partner. Not to the very last since she does not need me – I am not even sure I ever had anything worth to offer her, including my feelings – but I desperately need her. It is clearer now to me than ever before, that my sexual urge destroyed my relationship with Lady Yvette and does not allow an equal position towards Michelle – to the point it is possible between a man and and woman, of course. Apart from my regular lovers I have chased away. Whether or not my desire has helped me to meet these women in the first place, it does not make sense anymore when my sexual hunger destroys the possibilities it generates and furthermore hurts other people. Before I can even think about being a caring passionate partner in a couple, I first have to deal with my reproductive drive and to control my instincts, and maybe then again I can take responsibility for my beloved ones. I realized that it is not about my needs! Nobody’s running a 24/7 wellness service for subs here nor anyplace else ... That was the point when I stumbled over the first chastity device and started to read me into this issue. Put together I got the idea, real professionals deal with a Neosteel© apparatus and nothing else, while the new phosphorescent Birdlocked© (Pico in my case is large enough) seems to be the choice of entrance, both from a practical and financial point of view. I may come back to Neosteel if the other one doesn’t fulfill my needs, but first have to make sure to have a safe and discrete workshop. Pico is made from a single piece of soft skin friendly silicone with breathing holes and tiny spikes in case one’s penis wants to grow illegally. Principally it is possible to combine it with intimate jewelry like a hollow dilator, but right now I have to concentrate on my behavior. First time putting it on took a while since I had trouble to get the second testicle through, but then I had masses of place for Willy who frustrated has retracted quite a bit. Everything else was easy, security cordon and plastic rivet adjusted and lock closed. Done. September 1st 2014, 23:49 o’clock. What nags me however, is that I need a key-heart (actually I chose both, Lady Yvette and Michelle, since in case of a medical emergency the likelihood to reach one close-by is higher) to take care of nursing and washing of my most intimate parts and to control my until now most secret wishes and incitement. Well, that’s what I chose since I cannot do it alone. I hope, not for good, let’s try to grow up. And of course I have no clue how much I will have to pay, since they stayed tight-lipped about it (maybe they didn’t believe me yet, before I show action). Could anyone here give us a clue about reasonable rules and costs? Now back to my device. I can touch my penis’ roots with my fingers and my balls anyhow. They now lie paralyzed under my devices head, no up- and down moving, as they sometimes do (probably their connections and tubes are stretched as is the scrotal sac, and much space is neither). With some metal and wood tools (I have lying around) I can touch my penis’ more sensitive parts, as well as with my long right small finger nail. Nothing I’d suggest you to follow. Tinkering with the devices sheath isn’t much of a burner either. Imagine you walk in jeans with underwear, period. Nothing happened yet. No one was growing out of its world or looking around. I have put on my underwear and pants again, opened a beer and watched around in my TV channels. One thing is different though: grabbing in my pocket feels a bit bigger (I carry right, here too) but in my pants I feel nothing. I think I will go to bed now and tell you more by tomorrow (I already took my shower up front). And I may take my keys with me and not give them out of my hands, as long as I still have control over them.
In the dark it looks great, not green as on the photographs, but a shimmering, light blue. It doesn’t illuminate the room alone, but I am convinced by its design. Everything looks good now. And I still cannot fall asleep, too many things going on in my head, I can no more sort out I woke up early in the night (so I must have slept), my dick was trying to erect and my chastity belt was full, it’s throbbing against the sheath and hurts on its base and where the pricks are. I have to pee but it doesn’t go now, at least the throbbing stops. Ah, a cigarette helps (good that I’m alone, ha, ha), I got a pee bottle at hand and it works, well with some toilet paper at least and it took some time since he was always trying to erect again. The idea to walk with a dribbling imp through my apartment doesn’t sound great. And I’ll have to see how to handle it at work, let’s use that week for exercise. Thanks for your attention; I promise I’ll write more. * in case you find that cruel, please tell me, I’ll transfer it to her