Your cock is beautiful – 26

“Your cock is beautiful” Part-26 Continues……

“You too.” Dad smiled, “And, uh… there’s some beer in the fridge left over. Have at them.” He said winking.

“Are you sure you’re going to be Ok by yourself?” my Mom asked at the door.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” I said.

She didn’t answer right away, but just looked concerned.

“You know you can have some friends over, if you want.” she said, “Or… you know… a girl.”

I smiled. So that was the problem. For the first time in years, Mom was worrying about my self-imposed isolation.

“Sure, I’ll make sure to keep the place clean though.” I said, brushing off her suggestion as if it were no big deal.

She smiled, then nodded.

“Have fun!” she said, picking up her last bag and heading out the door.

That was definitely the plan.

==

The first few days were as exciting as they normally were, but the novelty of being able to wander around in my underwear and eat leftover pizza for breakfast, and cereal for dinner wore off surprisingly quickly.

Normally I was ecstatic to have the house to myself, but this time it didn’t feel as special. There was something missing. Maybe it was just the fact that I no longer had to hide in my room when Mia was around, meaning I was more used to spending free time down here.

Rather than being overjoyed that everyone else was gone, I found myself wondering what everyone was doing, and what kind of fun they were having. I just sulked about the house, my gray mood reflected by the clouds outside, not even bothering to snow, deciding instead to drizzle continuously without any real energy.

By New Year’s Eve, the feeling I normally enjoyed was completely gone, leaving only a strange sense of loneliness and melancholy. I counted down to midnight alone, feeling not a trace of the excitement I’d felt even the year before.

The next day, January 1st, I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself, and start enjoying my vacation.

My plan that night was to just get drunk. I was alone and now had access to alcohol, and I was aware that I’d never really been properly drunk before. So that evening I assembled my dad’s generous offering on the kitchen table, turned on the TV, and started to drink. I sipped the first one, grimacing at the uniquely bitter taste, but trying hard to enjoy it.

After half an hour I still wasn’t finished, so I decided to start gulping it. Within 20 minutes I was half way through my third can. By the fourth, I found that I was starting to enjoy the flavor. It had a deeper, richer taste than I first realized, and by the sixth can I was practically swirling it around in my mouth to absorb as much of it as possible. It tasted nothing like the wine, but it was the same process as I’d applied there, not trying to mask the taste or wish it was something else, but just experiencing it for what it was.

In the middle of a drink something on the TV made me laugh and I spat a mouthful all over myself. I didn’t really mind, though. In fact, I laughed again.

It was at this point that I realized that the alcohol might be affecting me. Further evidence of this theory presented itself when I reached for another can, leaned too far, and somehow slid right off my chair. I didn’t really mind this either. I spent the rest of the night down there watching TV, for some reason deciding to return to the same spot each time I got up for another beer or to go to the bathroom.

I discovered that I quite enjoyed being drunk. The buzzing sensation around my ears, the somehow pleasant dizziness, the quieting of my normally restless thoughts. Overall it was a pretty relaxing state to be in. I don’t think it’s surprising that I don’t exactly remember how much I drank, or much else about the night.

What I do know is that I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, a fairly intense feeling of nausea, and a surprisingly clean house. The cans were cleaned away, as was the puddle of beer that I definitely remember spilling. I had a vague memory of thinking that cleaning up would be easier drunk than hung over, and I really appreciated my own foresight.

I had, however, left the TV on and the front door unlocked.

So… I guess that one sort of balances itself out? Maybe not.

That was probably the most interesting night of my time alone, for more reasons than one.

A few days later, I got a package delivered to the door in my name. I signed for it, having no idea what it was, and took it inside to open it.

It was a ball gag.

A bright, red, rubber ball on a black leather strap with a stainless steel buckle to fasten it. It was about as cliché and classic a ball gag as it was possible to have. I lifted it out of the box and just held it in my hands, staring at it for about five minutes straight.

I was utterly confused.

Eventually, some dim memory glowed in my mind and I recalled ordering it from a fetish website from my laptop after maybe my tenth beer of the night. I decided to investigate this further, but for some reason I’d decided to clear my internet history, so I had no idea if I’d ordered anything else. But after checking my bank account online I saw that I’d taken a noticeable chunk out of my savings.

The next day, I got another package.

The day after that I got two more.

At first I had to try to keep myself from panicking as the boxes kept coming, but I noticed that with each new item I got a little more excited. I recognised most of the items as soon as I saw them, but there were a few things that I had absolutely no memory of even being interested in. I studied each one as it arrived,

making sure I knew exactly what it was and how it was used. Not too difficult a task for the three bottles of lube, but quite a bit more of a challenge for the complicated metal contraption that had to be assembled by hand. I eventually discovered that it was a cheap collapsible spreader bar.

I stashed each new item in an old suitcase in the bottom of my closet that I’d been meaning to throw out. As my collection grew, so did my gleeful anticipation. I was going to get to use these things, I thought. It’s one thing watching a porn-star Dom using things like this on a beautiful young submissive, (you know, just for reference…) but it was quite a different experience actually holding them in my own two hands and imagining just how I would use them with Mia.

How her teeth would look biting into the gag, or how her eyes would widen with fear the next time I had to punish her…

I was starting to think of my drunken spending spree as a happy accident, rather than a stupid mistake.

Despite all this, I was hoping against hope that each new delivery would be the last, as each day brought my time alone closer to its finish.

Finally, the day before my parents were due to return, the final box arrived. Unfortunately, they got back a day early, and before I woke up. When I got out of the shower a little before noon, I heard them moving around downstairs. I walked down into the living room to see an open, empty cardboard box.

“What do you need one of these for?” I suddenly heard my dad ask from behind me.

I jumped about a foot in the air and spun to face him. The blood drained from my face before I even looked at what he was holding. He stretched it out between his fingers, displaying it to me.

It was a blindfold. More specifically, a sleeping mask. A soft black eye cover with a slightly lighter satin pattern across the front, with a thin, elastic strap.

I let out a long sigh and forced a smile. Thank God it was something vaguely innocent.

“Jeez Dad, I didn’t know you were back!” I said, trying to explain away my shock.

“Yeah, the weather wasn’t great so we grabbed an earlier flight,” he said.

“Just at the end there, it was bad.” Mom chimed in, entering from the hallway, “Until a few days ago it was just gorgeous.”

Looking at them closer, I could see that Mom had a nice brown tone to her skin, whereas Dad was bright red.

“Yeah, it looks like you got some sun.” I smiled, trying to hide my nervousness.

“Well, one of us got a little more than some sun.” Dad jokes, gesturing with his sunburned arms.

“So what’s with this?” Mom asked, taking the blindfold from Dad and spinning the thin, smooth strap in her fingers.

“Oh, I’ve been having some… uh, headaches.” I lied quickly, “Like, I get really sensitive to light. So I just bought that, uh, sleep mask. Thought it might help.”

“That’s not good.” Dad said, sounding concerned, “Sounds like a migraine.”

“No, no, it’s not that bad.” I explained “It’s just… you know, every couple of weeks I just get this headache where the slightest bit of light makes it worse. Even the moonlight bothers me when my eyes are closed! I could probably just take some painkillers, but I thought this might be easier.”

Mom let out a little ‘Hm.’, sounding satisfied with my story, and threw it to me.

“Well, don’t ignore it if it gets any worse.” she said.

Your cock is beautiful – 26 will continue on the next page