It begins with a feeling, a kind of itchy warmth originating in my groin and it’s a familiar one and quite unmistakable. I may not be immediately aware of it; I may be doing something unrelated to things sexual, like playing a game or watching television. The feeling arrives unbidden and at the moment I become aware of it, I just know what it is…
And what I have to do… and now it’s off to the bathroom, not because I think Linda will be freaked out to see me doing myself but, eh, this is not a time I want any distractions like maybe having the cat getting all into my business (the nosy heifer).
By the time I get there, my cock is already beginning to swell, my mind is disconnecting from conscious thought and slipping into that pornographic place in my mind which, thanks to my experiences and imagination, contain a plethora of sexual thoughts that will aid me to getting where I want to be.
It’s erotic and oh, so stimulating, with just the right sense of “danger” because I know Linda might get concerned and come looking for me and the thought of her “barging” in and catching me in the act sends thrills all through me… and now it’s a question of whether or not I want to take a seat on the throne or stand before the bathroom mirror and watch what I’m doing… and all because I’m a guy and we are all so very visual even when doing ourselves.
My pants and underwear are down around my ankles and my hand proceeds to finish bringing me to a full erection if I’m not already there and, gods, it feels so good to feel my blood rushing to this part of me while feeling rational thinking take a seat on the bench… and now it’s on with a purpose.
The XXX-rated theater in my mind is scanning through so many images and scenarios that I can’t keep up with them… and there’s no telling what it’ll settle on; maybe it’s my Linda and the amazing skills she possesses or, as some people want to believe, I “willfully” commit an act of infidelity if my thoughts crystallize onto a past lover, male or female, or even someone I wouldn’t object to having sex with if I could – and that person may not even exist but, yeah, that’s just the way my imagination works and it is powerful.
All the while my hand is moving up and down my shaft; I look up and see the reflection of what I’m doing to myself and, fuck, I never get tired of the sight of my dick hard and all that does is add some extra incentive to finish what I’ve started and maybe even how I want that to happen.
Maybe I’m going for the quick, totally mindless release that’s devoid of the ultra-X-rated images I’m capable of summoning; I just want to cum fast and hard and it gets interesting because I have to do this left-handed – and I’m right-handed but, okay, that fucking stroke trashed my fine motor skills on my right side but I’ve learned to adapt, improvise, and overcome so I can continue to do something that, off the top of my head, I’ve done thousands of times since I first learn how to get myself off.
Maybe I want to take my time and prolong the inevitable , my eyes watching my hand as if it doesn’t belong to me while the images race along in my mind, adding more fuel to the fire that must burn… but I’m also trying to temper and bank because this, too, feels so damned good.
Either way, I eventually get to a point where I need the release… and I don’t want to do it; even the highly pornographic images in my mind are being ignored or just goes away, my focus totally on what my hand is doing to me and how it’s making me feel, pushing me ever closer to the edge…
And shoving me unceremoniously over the edge and into the abyss. I can see the spurts of cum but I’m not really seeing them although I have been surprised to see where that first spurt winds up landing and/or how far it travels… but it’s a passing, fleeting thought because I’m being consumed by my release, my whole body going from orgasmic rigidity to boneless flaccidity and if I’m standing up, well, I’m in danger of winding up falling – not good when standing up is a piece of work to begin with.
Now it’s a matter of remembering how to think and breathe and, yes, how to get up if I’m sitting, and getting my legs to cooperate with that standing up thing. Oh, yeah, there’s a mess that has to be dealt with but that’s just part of the process although I just might treat myself and lick my hand and fingers clean – and just because it’s a fun thing to do and what’s the point of acquiring the taste if you’re not going to indulge in it?
And now it’s back to whatever I was doing before the urge to do this struck me, knowing full well that I just might feel that urge again and very soon…