Journals and blogs discussion

This week I made quite a bit of progress in being locked up for longer stretches of time. Before this week I would only do a few hours a few times a week. I had a hard time getting comfortable in it. The ring would travel and cause pain to the point of a panic attack. Sure, I did the lube thing. Water-based, oil, silicone—I tried them all. They wouldn’t last long enough, and I was spending too much time reapplying lube. Then, I cut up a latex dishwashing glove (the yellow kind) and put it as a barrier between the ring and myself. That really improved the situation. The skin pulling and pinching was at least manageable. Eventually, I got used to it to the point of dropping the scrap of glove. Readjusting periodically was sufficient. The other factor in this (and it’s a big one) is my wife doesn’t know about this. I’ve been doing it in secret. Keeping it that way hasn’t been easy in terms of both being deceptive to her and not getting caught. I have to plan for when she’ll be home so I can release myself, clean my device, and put it away in my hiding spot. One time I forgot I had it drying in our bathroom when she came home. She was about to head upstairs when I remembered. Somehow I managed to distract her attention with something to buy some time and clear the scene. It was close. I want to tell her about it, but not just yet. This was going on for a month or so…until this last week. Monday, I was having such a great time that I kept putting off taking it off. She was on her way home while I was getting some work done. When I finished, my window of time to do my unlocking routine was closed. Just like that, I was locked in with her here. My thoughts raced: what did I have to do, how long would it take, what would she say if she caught me, what would I say… As I planned my escape, I found my thoughts shifting from “when can I get out” to “how long can I stay.” I didn’t have to unlock myself; I was taken aback by that notion. Every time she looked at me, I caught myself staring back to see if she saw I was hiding something from her. That she didn’t find it in my eyes surprised me. As the evening wore on so did the ball burn. I became very aware of my gait, and fought the need to walk bull-legged. I made readjustments when I could, and made poor excuses to leave the room when I couldn’t (I have to go get…uh). Finally, I had reached the goal I set up for myself: 12 hours. I couldn’t wait to do it again.