Stress Management

I am a pretty horny guy with a decent sized cock and I play with myself every day, especially since my wife gave birth to our second child and lost essentially all interest in sex. As far back as I can remember, I've always needed to jerk my cock more when I've been under work stress (and, before work, school stress). Somehow, having things coming up that I'm worried about makes me need to touch myself, often two or three times a day. Some sort of self-medication, perhaps, but it always works before a big presentation or an important sales meeting, and-superstition or habit-I never miss a 'beat', so to say.

About a year ago, I headed up to New York for a meeting with a new client at an industry convention, and I brought 'Tom', my new associate, with me for the experience. Our travel department somehow didn't get the message that Tom was coming with, and there was only one room booked in the computer when we got to the convention, and no rooms to spare. I was going to call travel after-hours to get Tom in a nearby hotel when the check-in clerk told me the room had two double beds.

'We could share,' Tom offered, 'and I don't want to be a cost center or a burden.'

Immediately I thought of how much I needed to masturbate that night and the following morning. I started to protest-'No, you deserve to have your own room...' when Tom cut me off with what I mistook at the time for well-intentioned gratitude: 'Ken, don't worry about it-I used to share rooms with other guys on the lacrosse team all the time.'

We ate in the hotel restaurant and I drank almost two bottles of wine myself in an effort to dull the urges building within me. I can't cum standing up, at least, not completely and not when I jack myself off, so I wasn't going to be able to get myself off in the shower. The wine had the opposite effect, though, and Tom's incessant chatter about the hot girls in the office wasn't helping me, either. I was wet and and half-on when we left the table.

I went to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth and looked at my thickening cock in my boxer briefs before I zipped up and belted up. This wasn't going to be easy; there was a huge wet spot right around my chubby cockhead. While Tom was in the bathroom, I quickly undressed and tucked under the covers, frustratedly grazing my fingers against my nearly-full shaft and wondering if I could stroke quickly enough before he got back.

Tom did not appear to exhibit any such modesty and I tried to avoid staring when he came back from the bathroom wearing only his underwear, fairly sheer Calvin Klein low-riders cut high on the leg. It was probably the cut of his shorts, but the underwear concentrated his cock in the center and made him look enormous. That, and the sight of his rippling, chiseled abs and sinewy legs, did nothing to help my delicate state. I am not attracted to guys, but there was something sexy about seeing this muscular stud and imagining how much HE must need to masturbate, and I got fully hard in the second or so before I averted my gaze.

With the lights out, I tried to close my eyes and let sleep overtake me, but I was throbbing and pulsing and leaking precum inside my shorts as I thought back to Tom telling me how he had been fucking 'Tina', one of the other associates and the girl that every guy in the office would probably leave his wife for.

To be continued...