Correspondence

There comes a time when it's not wise for me to sustain more pent up desire. I become aggressive and unpleasant to be around. I become more negative and if it goes on too long, my tongue becomes quite caustic.

So I resign myself to a patient and known pattern of release. Written text is best to paint the pictures in my imagination. It's the most thorough way to embrace my love of images completely. I enjoy photographs and erotica of all kinds, but words are so very close to my heart.

Today a friend, come editor, has shared a short piece about the use of a vibrator and I know by the rush to swell and cramp my jeans, that I should be in boxers today. I love the feeling of being loose when I am ripe to cum hard and fully. I anticipate it and savour the feeling of it.

I recently played a stalling game where I held out a whole week while keeping a lid on the grouch, willingly imposing the deprivation myself, to refresh my memory. I normally cum at least once a day and often more. When I was younger I was ravenous and had to be sure to carry appropriate covers to hide my erection.

By the time the week was up, I was stirring between my legs constantly. I love my boxers for days like that. They are all cotton and not too tight or bulky but thin and just enough material to do the job. I like to be cool rather than hot. I like to be loose and relaxed where my balls rest loosely in my hand and move freely in the sack.

I can easily envision them being gently sucked. Pulled away with tension on the sack, tongue gently insisting mobility. Open mouthed, teeth bared, gently pulling away while looking up impishly as if to say, "you're so fucking vulnerable. You are mine, while I'm helplessly lost in the pleasure of the scene.

At the thought, my length has reached maximum and I know it will feel wonderful to handle it. I relax back in my chair with my pants down around my ankles. It's a low set, old steno chair and I've tucked my feet on the legs and leave my pelvis resting on the seat edge. This presents me with no sense to "clench" internally and I jump involuntarily as thoughts cross my mind.

I push my balls around enjoying them, healthy and relaxed. I put my hand around the base of my cock leaving skin enough to slide up to the circumcised rim of the head flanged and purple and then pulled back down without strain.

I tip my cock forward, forcing a constriction of blood flow and squeeze hard to watch it swell. At this point I think back on occasions I've had to feed it to the sloppy vagina of my lovers lust. Slapping it down onto her clitoris, dipping it into her juice and then dropping the head low down to her ass and dragging it past her tight place and through plush lips to rest against her clitoris again, sometimes vibrating it rapidly sideways in place there. I love the look of a woman when her eyes begin to roll.

I'm hard to my capacity but I know there is more to be had from this orgasm than taking it at this point. I'll need several more minutes to feel the small pulses threatening ejaculation that flinch deep below at the bottom of my cock almost back to my own tight place.

I am leaking that crystal clear juice that over comes all friction. Some call it "pre-cum" but that's clumsy. I'll have to find out what it's actually called. Simply saying semen sounds a little thin and weak where it is anything but.

Whatever it is, it's very compatible with saliva and I spit thickly in quantity into my palm and watch my now bright shiny stiffness look it's best. It's a bit angry looking now. It's ribbed with a surface full of blue veins, the head bulging purple above the shaft. I stroke it lightly and spit again rubbing my balls that cinch up as soon as I remove my hand and the evaporation makes a pleasing and cooling sensation. I spit again and my entire shaft is dripping with ample lubrication. I can see the ooze coming more quickly now, helping my case for light friction and intense pleasure.

I reach up and flip my right nipple roughly as I use my left hand to entertain the pleasing rhythm that is now grown in frequency to a couple strokes a second. If I'm to have all of this, I'll need a focus. I open a series of images from my collection and settle on an image of a well dressed formal woman's legs slightly toed in. She's sitting, the floor is hard wood and her nails are well tended. She has on some skinny little impractical high heeled sandal type dress shoes that would certainly leave her easy to catch! I can't see her knees in the picture, only her scant little panties around her ankles.

I drop to the floor. I'm on my knees. I lean back so my thighs and midriff are taught and holding my entire upper body weight. My head is tilted backward, eyes closed, image firmly in my mind. In this position my erection becomes hyper flexed and without clenching or forcing I revel in the feeling. I let my orgasm come on as slowly as I can, like it's rolling up a shallow hill almost not making the apex and then it falls off the edge of a table. The first pulse stays stuck and I pee my cum thickly in a steady stream for a second or more then the heavy pulses set in. I am wrenched, groaning, shuddering, and spew my milk six feet from me.

I look down to the mess at last and hope my thighs stop shaking soon.

If you are not opposed to the salty taste, I'd have willing shared it with you to save the clean up... kissing me my half, or taking it from your mouth to dress your breasts in shine and slide my softening cock to see if I'm really done, or whether the preparation has been sufficient to begin a more ambitious banging of your willing cunny.