Found Wanting

Another day, another morning waking up with an erection and nothing useful to do with it.  Stuck with a ridge in his jeans, uncomfortable friction, rasping cloth against sensitive flesh already oversensitized from too many times jerking off.  Not for the first time he cursed his demonically high drive, particularly when there were no handy targets to vent it on.

His mind drifted, slipped sideways, came to rest on her (as it usually did in times like these).  Her impish smile, the way she bit her lip when she was aroused, the breathy little-girl voice she did so well.  He shifted uncomfortably, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans.  This wasn't helping.  It didn't help to think of the feel of her silky hair, the taste of her tongue, the scent of her pussy when she was as turned on as he, the way she shrieked like a firebell when she came hard.  It didn't help at all to remember the velvety feel of her slick tunnel, the way she fitted herself to him with a happy sigh, the way she hooked her legs over his shoulders and crossed her ankles behind his head.  It was making things not the slightest bit better to recall the way she bounced up and down in his lap, begging him to play with her tits while he fucked her, to remember the insane heat of her body against his, the way she splashed against his crotch, fountaining out around and against him while he rocked deeper and deeper within.

Down went his jeans again, his boxer briefs along with them.  Rigid, commanding, standing tall, he took himself in hand and began to stroke, already breathing hard, hips bumping upward on the downbeat. Hazily, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this would only be the first of many, many times. Knew she would be dancing in and out of his thoughts for the entire day, drifting from dream to dazed acceptance of reality, but still achingly hard and ready for another go. Knew he'd be coming up with more scenarios, more fantasies, even as he sprayed hot cum up onto his own shoulder and chest. Knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he had to take yet another break, to try doggedly to tame the beast, to get a few minutes' respite from the aching, throbbing hardness that returned any time he dared even think her name.

He wondered when he'd see her again, and how long it would take before she was screaming his name that time. He wondered who was sharing her bed right now, and if they had a clue how lucky they were. He wondered why she affected him like this, but as always found any explanation wanting. She just....was. Hooked on a feeling, addicted to her body, enjoying it to the hilt even as he hated the fact that he never had a moment's peace.

Absently, he wiped the cum off his chest, shoulders, stomach, groin. Tossed it into the nearby wastebasket nearly full of crumpled paper towels -- it'd be time to empty that again soon. He sighed, and regarded his already-twitching cock as it swelled, lengthened, thickened again, pointing at him in gleeful, hungry joy.

He got up and padded toward the bathroom, kicking the tangled clothing free of his ankles as he went. Maybe an icy shower would help. But he guessed it probably wouldn't.

-- PB