With this Cock Ring, I Thee Wed...

“So I’m guessing that getting gay married is out of the question,” Zeke says with a grin, as we lie in bed long after both of our alarms have gone off.

“Like today?” I say. “Yeah ... today isn’t good for me, I have meetings all day.”

“Not in public bathrooms, I hope,” Z says, giggling and rubbing my stomach.

“That’s never been my style,” I say. “Bathrooms are for pooping and primping. They’re work meetings darling, you know, work, that thing I do between having sex with you.” It’s been a couple months since Z and I have decided to give our relationship a reboot and outfit it with a play or pass clause, allowing us to ask specially selected others to join us in the bedroom. But so far, we haven’t fully used those privileges once. I have my sneaking suspicion that Z’s overzealous sexual appetite has been his little way of keeping me satiated with what’s in front of me, or should I say under me.

Z hops out of bed, naked as the day, and does a quick yoga stretch on the marble floor. At the end of his sun salutation, he reaches into a nearby drawer and pulls out a small box. “A little something, to keep me in your thoughts.” Inside is a stretchy, silky, pair of delicate, yet man-sized, red underwear. “It’s got a little something special in the front.” I look, and sewn into the pouch is a cloth cock-ring. “For support, stimulation, and greater display of your manhood,” Z says, obviously quoting the product description. “Try’em on, babe!” he says, popping with excitement.

They fit like a dream, making my ass look like something out of a Falcon video, circa 1997. The enhanced pouch protrudes in the front, giving my boys a little extra oomph. “I can’t say that I hate them, lover.”

Z snaps the waistband playfully. “Good, now take’em off!” I obey, and am late, again, to the office.

At work, all eyes are on my crotch, since Z insisted I wear the briefs all day. They make my flat front pants, not so flat. It’s fun catching my gay, straight, male, and female co-workers sneaking a glance at the bulge. Eric, the new, ultra hot junior PR agent, took one look and lost all power of speech for a few seconds as he fumbled his way through a series of questions. Finally, he got brave, asking, “So, um, what’s going on down there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I say, sounding like the old Sam Jones.

“Actually, I would.” Eric says. I think about this prospect, undressing his lithe, muscular body with my eyes; then feeling the ring, securely fastened, and getting tighter, around my goods. I think, too, of Z and the deal we’ve made.

“OK then,” I say, “meet me tonight, at The Abbey, at 8, and we’ll negotiate.” His eyes tell me yes, as he turns to go. I hit Z’s number on my cell within seconds. “Hey babe, love the ring you gave me. Yeah… so how about drinks tonight, say 8 o’cock… I mean, clock?”

E-mail me your sex questions/conundrums/comments at: sextalksam@gmail.com.