This accunt is difficult to categorise. I certainly ejaculated and I was most definitely alone, so I have classified it as Masturbation Solo. The truth is that someone else was instrumental in triggering my superb cumming that day. My thanks to the artist/author who created the graffiti in Derby Station.
What was it, in my late forties and early fifties, that induced me to visit public toilets to read the graffiti on the walls? I found the messages and invitations did not tempt me to respond to them. Nevertheless they were often arousing and I would leave the cubicle with a firm erection that would normally have called for a swift wank. However I always avoided doing it, telling myself that I was thereby keeping clear of the blandishments of the Gay community. I wonder now if I was deceiving myself. Perhaps I was unconsciencely checking my underlying sexual orientation?
The research, if such it was, came to an end while on a business trip to the West Midlands. I was waiting to change trains and decided to check the station toilets. Having selected a cubicle I entered and sat down (I always did this to deceive my conscience that I was there for a legitimate purpose).
I cannot remember the content and style of the graffiti, but it must have been subtle and powerful because I developed a seriously hard one! Following my usual practice I refrained from finishing it off with a few deft hand strokes, but was left in a mental battle to avoid cumming. It was a tremendous struggle that I finally lost and watched my penis pulse violently by itself and shoot vast quantities of spunk. It was beyond all previous (and subsequent) experience, I was completely drained emotionally (and of semen).
It may seem strange but I have never sought to repeat that glorious hands-free ejaculation. Perhaps if I am ever on that station again I might be tempted to see if the same magic persists. It is more likely that I have discovered an aspect of my sexuality that I fear to develop in spite of its tempting prospects.
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