Young Lust Revisited

I am a compulsive masturbator, seizing any opportunity or excuse to rub my dick. And there is no such thing as inconvenient occasions to go for it. The sight of a bra strap that slid off a shoulder, the visible contour line of a bra beneath a stretched blouse, a protruding nipple under a tight t-shirt, each one is pretext enough for a good wank in the nearest place I can manage.

Forty five years later I keep the same performance I had at fifteen, when I reached my cruising speed in regular masturbation. The only thing I miss is the ability to reach orgasm, just by reading an erotic story or looking at pictures of half-naked women in lingerie catalogs. In fact I worked hard on the development of an unusual style of jerking off hands free, which I was very proud of, back in those days.

About two years ago, however, I had a pleasant surprise. I was in my lunch break in a little bistro near the office, when a couple, carrying a baby, arrived and took the table right in front of mine. Even before ordering their meal, the young woman unbuttoned her shirt and opened the flap that covered one cup of her nursing bra, letting one breast loose to breastfeed the child.

I got an instant boner. And as she squeezed her breast easing the milk to flow, a sweet and long-forgotten sensation hit me: my penis started to throb against my briefs, in succeeding convulsions and, when least expected, I found myself on the verge of an orgasm which I was unable to hold much longer (nor wanted to) and ejaculated right there, soaking my underwear, just like it used to happen way back in my younger days.

Rewarding.