Page 15 of The Key Holder

"Just...tired," I managed to squeak out.

“You’ve had a long day.” Ford smiled then fastened the necklace around his neck.

He's wearing it. He's actually wearing it.

I wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Torn between wanting to snatch the key back or disappear into the floor.

Ford reached towards the back of his neck, toying with the chain. After a few seconds, he wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, I need a shower. Carrying you through the woods really had me working up a sweat. I’m rank." He grinned, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “You think it looks good?”

He was referring to the necklace, misinterpreting my interest in it.

I nodded.

“Good. I really like it.” He continued to admire it as he flexed his chest while I watched the key dance in between his plump pecs. “You wanna pick another movie to watch when I come back down?”

“Sure.”

He walked over to squeeze my shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Ha! “Hilarious.”

As Ford walked out, my mind spiraled.

He's wearing the key. To my chastity cage. Around his neck.

Like it was a fashion statement.

He's going to wear it in the shower.

The image of Ford, naked and wet, wearing the key for a cage that literally contained my desire for him, sent waves of pleasure through my body. The heat built as my caged cock throbbed.

A few minutes later, the sound of the shower filled the cabin. Imagining the water cascading over Ford’s muscular torso—the silver key glistening against his skin—was better than any porn I could have found.

I was trapped in an agonizing state of anticipation of what was to come.

The cage, a symbol of my restraint, my purity, had now become a torment, a reminder of my lust. And the only release from it was now around the neck of the man I had tried to forget. The one man who poured gasoline on the fire that was my sexuality all those years ago.

My imagination ran wild as my fingers trailed down my stomach and under the waistband of my shorts. I conjured images of what was happening above me—Ford lathering up, washing himself, the key resting against his chest, the water streaming down his abs to his mouth-watering cock.

It had to be thick.

Every other part of the man was.

All the muscles in my body were tense, my caged cock throbbed with a painful intensity. I wanted to scream, to beg, to do something to break this tension. But I was stuck in an agony of my own making.

The sound of the shower continued—I could hear Ford humming now.

The key was so close, yet so impossibly far away.

4

Ford

I wasn’t sure what was up with Dylan. Every time I glanced over during the movie, I’d catch him looking at me. I was beginning to think my earlier guess that he still had feelings for me was actually true, and I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Sure, he was fucking cute and he had a perfect ass—I got both an eyeful and a handful earlier—I just couldn’t stop thinking about his sexless summer comment. Was that why he was here? To go celibate for a few months? If that were the case, then why? What had made him decide to do that? Did jerking off count?

All these thoughts distracted me from paying attention to the movie. When the final scene faded to black and the credits rolled, I was the one half asleep. Leaning forward, I stretched my arms above my head, a low groan escaping my lips. Dylan shifted beside me, his injured ankle still propped up.