[Please note: This isn't fictional.]
I furiously pounded away at my erection thinking little more than the pressing need for sleep. My dick and I have a good arrangement: I give him regular attention and he gives me peace. I can't sleep with an aching boner digging into the plush softness of my velour blanket, and no matter which way I turn, the tent will produce an uncomfortable friction no matter how few layers separate me from my slumber bed.
Perusing through online pornography, I gripped my cock tightly and began that almost mechanical assent into the "red zone." Think of your odometers. Tensing and tightening my wrist, my thumb and fingers locking, my palm kneading the fleshy root of my erection. But at this point -- who do I kidd -- I see little more than the goal, a decent cumshot, a quick wipe-up and a dive into the sheets.
But when my abs tightened and my shoulders curled forward, my eyes sank heavily and my mouth slowly opened into its half-shuddered, three-quarters grunt. Breath becoming strong and fierce through the nose. I expected a spray, I guess. If I looked down once before, I would see the coming flood; sometimes it would gush out the meatus and cascade down the veined, smooth, greasy surface on my cock. Other times, it would spurt up a bit... a surprise contraction. Abs. Sometimes the chest became an unforeseen target. And sometimes I would give myself the reaffirmative appraisal, glad that I had had a sufficient load.
But I closed my eyes and felt the stinging hot mass assault my stubbled left check, the side of my nose, searing and streaking my chest, my abs. Mouth agape, some cum landed on or about the corner of my lip and... ah, the intensity! I slowly rolled my tongue across my upper lip to sweep the cream off and into my awaiting mouth. Shocked. Cum became a flavour. It tasted warm and thick... stout like a porridge, strong like a sliced citrus, sweet like honeysuckle essence.
I looked down and over my slowly relaxing body, surveying the damages. But it wasn't enough. I ran into the bathroom, grabbing the towel off the door. But before I could bring the cotton over my body, I looked straight ahead in the mirror. I was covered in the tapestry of my own masculine aura, bathed halfway in thick, succulent testosterone made creamy emission.
My muscles relaxed and rolled downward, breathing slowed... my focus came back... the beast, now dormant, curled down toward my right leg, leaving a sticky clear trail from my ballsac to my thigh.
I shot myself a reassuring grin, gently rubbing my stomach, my soft dick gingerly stroked with my thumb and palm ridge, whispering to myself that this had been quite a remarkable orgasm.
It was the full moon, the tide of the planets, and the Scorpio on high... a veritable circus of sexual energy... and oh what a rush it was!
I furiously pounded away at my erection thinking little more than the pressing need for sleep. My dick and I have a good arrangement: I give him regular attention and he gives me peace. I can't sleep with an aching boner digging into the plush softness of my velour blanket, and no matter which way I turn, the tent will produce an uncomfortable friction no matter how few layers separate me from my slumber bed.
Perusing through online pornography, I gripped my cock tightly and began that almost mechanical assent into the "red zone." Think of your odometers. Tensing and tightening my wrist, my thumb and fingers locking, my palm kneading the fleshy root of my erection. But at this point -- who do I kidd -- I see little more than the goal, a decent cumshot, a quick wipe-up and a dive into the sheets.
But when my abs tightened and my shoulders curled forward, my eyes sank heavily and my mouth slowly opened into its half-shuddered, three-quarters grunt. Breath becoming strong and fierce through the nose. I expected a spray, I guess. If I looked down once before, I would see the coming flood; sometimes it would gush out the meatus and cascade down the veined, smooth, greasy surface on my cock. Other times, it would spurt up a bit... a surprise contraction. Abs. Sometimes the chest became an unforeseen target. And sometimes I would give myself the reaffirmative appraisal, glad that I had had a sufficient load.
But I closed my eyes and felt the stinging hot mass assault my stubbled left check, the side of my nose, searing and streaking my chest, my abs. Mouth agape, some cum landed on or about the corner of my lip and... ah, the intensity! I slowly rolled my tongue across my upper lip to sweep the cream off and into my awaiting mouth. Shocked. Cum became a flavour. It tasted warm and thick... stout like a porridge, strong like a sliced citrus, sweet like honeysuckle essence.
I looked down and over my slowly relaxing body, surveying the damages. But it wasn't enough. I ran into the bathroom, grabbing the towel off the door. But before I could bring the cotton over my body, I looked straight ahead in the mirror. I was covered in the tapestry of my own masculine aura, bathed halfway in thick, succulent testosterone made creamy emission.
My muscles relaxed and rolled downward, breathing slowed... my focus came back... the beast, now dormant, curled down toward my right leg, leaving a sticky clear trail from my ballsac to my thigh.
I shot myself a reassuring grin, gently rubbing my stomach, my soft dick gingerly stroked with my thumb and palm ridge, whispering to myself that this had been quite a remarkable orgasm.
It was the full moon, the tide of the planets, and the Scorpio on high... a veritable circus of sexual energy... and oh what a rush it was!
