I let River know how much I enjoyed the sex every day and a half, how good it made me feel, and pointed out that this morning was our next day and a half. She wasn’t having any of it. She just left to go out of town for a couple days. Some time I want her to take me with her.
I was reading alone in bed. My hand drifted down to my cock and I felt the fuzz on my balls with no particular agenda. Maybe it was like being River: I could feel my stuff, but with no real results.
But wait. As I read my mind wandered back to a particularly memorable occasion. A hotel room. A delightfully naked woman in the shower going through her paces while I watched and jacked off. The way things should be.
And there I was getting hard. Not so hard just yet, but my erection had potential. I kept thinking and stroking, my dry hand giving a nice stimulation. And then things started feeling right, like they were supposed to feel. Nice.
Since the ill-fated vasectomy jacking off has become more frustration than it’s worth. I used to just be hard, and take advantage of it for some nice relief. No longer. I have to get hard, which is usually too much nearly-fruitless endeavor for a solo orgasm. But here I am. Hard. I flip the covers off and look. Yes, I could have a worthy fuck with the stiffie I’ve got. It’s nice on many levels.
I set the book aside and pay more attention. My palm scrapes down the firm underside of my shaft, my thumb and fingers nip against the edges of my cock head and it feels like I’m lighting a match, my fingers rub across the soft expanse of my balls.
Damn. This is going somewhere. I’ve only jacked off to orgasm maybe four times in the past10 years. I used to do it maybe 10 times in a month.
There’s the girl in the shower. There’s the girl on our bed. There I am exploring her unfamiliar pussy with my fingers. There I am, my hard cock going into her pussy for the first time and we’re fucking, like boys and girls do, her tits jouncing up and down with our rhythm in a way River’s never could.
I’m not even going to have to work too hard for this one. I can feel it wanting to come, the match I’ve struck aching to burst into flame. Just a little encouragement. Some fingers pressing under my balls. That’s it.
I watch myself come. Something I haven’t seen for a long time. What will it be like? A good shot? There’s the contraction. It’s good. But nothing coming out. No mighty jets of jizz. Just my straining cock. And another. What’s happening? It feels fine. It feels good. But nothing. At least cleanup will be easy. Finally, not a spurt but a dribble, a respectable amount at least, but an uninspired dribble. I let it drip down onto myself, pressing hard against the base of my stiff cock, and relax.
Thank you, shower girl. Until next time.