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Edging all Morning

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 24 Jun 2002 1 comments
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by Bare Eric Woke up with a big bone-on this morning. I must have been thinking about sex all night, because when I finally came to, I was already hot. I've been teasing myself all morning, strutting around naked, whacking till I almost cum, coaxing out some drool and savouring the nectar on my lips like so much expensive caviar... pretending some guy is watching me, cock in hand, someone who thinks my exceptional hairiness is the world's greatest turn-on. Right now I smell awful. My armpits are ripe and when I draw my hand below my balls, I pick up a strong scent of musk. At any other time, the aroma would probably be embarrassing, but alone and naked, it turns me on. It's so base. It's mine and and no one can tell me to go clean up. In a way, that's the essence of sex. Basic. Primal. Animal. Free. Unencumbered. Lusty. My cock and my ass are on view. My body hair is very evident. No one gets to see me this way unless I say so. This is my time and no one has any control over it. I look down and all I see is dense fur. It covers my belly, my arms, my thighs. It's so thick on my chest that I can't see my nipples, but I can feel them with my fingertips, poking upwards as smooth and sensitive as the inside of my mouth. I look further down to my bikini line, the boundary that separates ordinary body hair from the coarse and thick bush below. My pubes are extraordinary--dense, ugly and wiry. If I search long enough, I can pull the odd hair straight out until it reaches 5 or 6 inches. Out of the thick black mat springs my dick, as if God gave us pubic hair to enhance our sex organs, a little garnish to remind us how important sex is to the human psyche. As if my cock needs more attention. Every time I pee, I admire it. Any excuse to touch it will do. When' I'm naked, I look at it from every possible angle... in a magnifying shaving mirror, where it becomes positively lethal in size; pulling the foreskin back to imagine what life would be like circumcised; pulling my pubes up against my belly to see how my groin would look bald. Right hand. Left hand. Pressing my meat against the cold plaster of the wall. Fucking the carpet. I'm stroking right now, between sentences, as if my fingers on the keyboard could translate the sensation of my fingers against my cock. I'm coddling my balls, which were freshly shaved a couple of weeks ago. Now the stubble makes them feel oddly unfamiliar, as though they were someone else's. As I write this, I've been close to coming at least a dozen times. I've thrown myself on the bed without missing a stroke. I've fucked the pillow. I've grabbed my balls and pulled down until my dick was scarlet. In the hour I've been wriitng, I've leaked enough drool to impregnate all of North America. I've written and rewritten, fine tuning each sentence, masturbating some more. I've pumped till my balls hurt, but I refuse to cum. Until now. I've got both hands on the length of my cock. The head is abhorrently thick and red. If my dick were any firmer, blood would burst all over the room. I'm not stroking any more. I'm just shaking it. With both hands--one below the helmet, the other just above my nuts--holding on as if my shaft were a baseball bat. Shaking it so hard that my whole body is starting to jiggle. My balls are hot, held so tight against my lower hand that they look like eggs. My forearms are taught with the strain of gripping. My shoulders are thrust back, my gut drawn in like I'm the biggest fucking male on earth. Like the only thing that matters is between my legs. I'm loosing any vestiges of decorum as my body gives into the saensation. My eyes are starting to bug out and I can't help but cry out. Holy shit, there's a pool of semen on my chest. There must be a gallon of the stuff, clinging in globs to my body hair. I smear it over myself and take a deep breath. My dick is still hard, but it will subside in a minute. Eventually, I'll get up and have a shower, but for now, I'm too exhausted to move.