Page 12

12

Ben Stirling

I wake with light streaming into my face, an uncomfortable tightness in my pants, and a strong urge to pee. In addition to being hideous and excessive, the curtains in my room aren’t especially effective. There’s a gap in the middle where the blackout is supposed to meet but doesn’t, and it lets light in. It’s woken me every morning since I got here.

I work my way around the room, systematically opening the curtains and ignoring my boner so I can take a leak. It’s one of those no-arousal only-annoyance chubs. Luckily, it will be gone in a minute. That’s how my dick rolls lately.

When the curtains are drawn, I spend long enough looking down at the back yard to realize that, in addition to everything else, I’m going to have to organize a yard service and pool company to come over. On top of that, this boner is proving to be stubborn. I guess it didn’t get the memo about stages of grief or whatever. In addition to the usual tightness, an old, familiar pressure at the base lets me know it’s going nowhere.

I sigh and get into the shower, pouring a healthy amount of conditioner into my right hand and stroking with nothing but an end goal in mind as water cascades around me.

Nut fast so you can pee, I tell myself.

I tighten my grip on my shaft and lengthen my strokes, tugging and twisting slightly when my hand nears the head. The water must be a little hotter than I intended to make it because the heat seeps into me. Into my skin and deeper. I’m warm on the inside, not just on the outside. As I stroke, tendrils of pleasure wake and snake up and down my cock. I brace one hand on the tile and start jerking in earnest. Sensation floods me. Thick pleasure runs in my veins. I close my eyes and let images flash behind my lids.

Lips.

Soft lips.

Light pink.

Soft light-pink lips part.

A hot mouth opens.

It’s warm and wet inside. So warm and wet, I dip my fingers into it. I run my forefinger and middle finger across the tip of a wanting tongue. It flicks up, pressing firmly against the pads of my fingers, trying to entice me. Trying to invite me. Trying to make me stay.

I tease, withdrawing my fingers and groaning as soft light-pink lips turn into a frown.

The frown makes me hotter.

I stroke harder and faster and see myself running a thumb over a plump bottom lip. It’s so lush and full there’s a slight dent in the middle. A tiny line formed by a lifetime of laughter.

Electricity buzzes inside me, zapping from my balls to my cock to my spine to my brain. My cock thickens and my abs and lungs contract. The load I expel leaves me with such force that I cry out, and when it’s over, I find myself slumped against freezing wall tile.

Jesus.

I turn the faucet, giving myself a cool blast to help me recover. It works. Mental clarity hits me immediately.

That was different.

It felt good. Really good. It was pleasure without a price to pay later. It was the first time in a long time that coming made me feel good. Only good. Not good followed immediately by sad.

I almost forgot what that’s like.