I played computer games the whole day without no intervention except some short breaks for dinner and toilet, and I felt jaded and exhausted at night. I lied in bed, staring at the ceiling with my motionless eyes. I felt sleepy and tired, yet I couldn’t fall asleep somehow. I felt lonely, and scared of the darkness. I wanted to cry, but not as much as I wanted tears to glue up my eyelids so that I would be forced to sleep, yet my eyes were still dry as my pants. I slid my hands down to that soft spot, touching it and groping it until I felt hard inside my hands. I grabbed the hard part in one hand, the soft bag in the other. I began rubbing against the hard one, roughly and hard like it owned me money, the other hand tapping the sack gently and repeatedly.
I felt intense pressure inside my belly as if it was going to explode… I hadn’t masturbated for about two months prior, the longest drought for me since my first time. I and several best friends (from junior middle school) had a theory that masturbation would bring you back luck in an exam, and the longer you were clear of it the better you would do in the exam. And that was probably one reason, but there was another reason for me… I wanted to save it for someone, save the full load for… well, for Leigh, to be exact. Yet it didn’t come, it never came.
But I was coming… it felt like a flood between my legs and that area of cloth was instantly soaked. I took that off, wiped myself clean with the rear half of it. Yet I still felt unsatisfied, so I did it all over again, and again, shedding the remaining load into the shaggy pants. My heart thumped hard and my breath hoarse, like I had run a mile, and I had no intention to stop yet… I did it seven or eight rounds in total, beating and squeezing the tap until it ran completely dry. I felt tired, really tired and exhausted, and relieved, and finally I fell asleep with the mess.
Reply With Quote
