Archives for June 2008
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Then again he relaxed. He reached a hand up to move the book,
placing it upright on the bed, propped against the side mirror wall of
the alcove and turned the upper part of his body so that he could
stare at it.
And his eyes thus engaged, he resumed the pumping action. A looser
grip at first, his hand sliding farther up and down the shaft, then a
tighter grip at the top, the side of his finger digging into the sen-
sitive point. He meant to complete the job this time.
His other hand was cupped to his bollocks, the forefinger digging
into the root of the shaft beneath the taut skin. Did he mean to halt
the flowing? His hips and thigh reared up once more, his toes and feet
twisting the sheet into knots beneath them. The sheen on his glans was
lost as the pores open up with the climactic blood flow. He would
come! He would come!
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Relaxed – pumping not stopped, but much slowed, and the hand pres-
sure minimal. The he slipped the hand up higher, and began to caress
the point below the glans with the side of his finger. Some fluid had
formed at the eye of his shaft and he slicked it down over the point
as a lubricant.
He began to pump once more in this higher position. His sweat-
dewed face, mouth wide open in rictus of excitement; between the tun-
nel of his legs, the balls, now pulled high and close as orgasm
neared. His shaft was indeed now bending back over his belly as he
left the plateau for the summit.
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He closed the book, laid it flat on his stomach, and passed a hand
down to grasp his shaft, then he began the work of the hand on the rod
of iron. His technique was obviously practised, but unsophisticated.
Writhing; delicious: he was a toe wiggler. The thigh muscles filled -
full buns with deep side hollows and a clean division between the
curve of the bun and the straighter convexity of the under-thigh. As
the knees came up, the deep top grooves were clear, and most inviting.
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The first stage of erection was complete, the ridge of skin below
the corona disappearing into smoothness as the penis filled to its
last inch. He used the towel to remove some of the stickiness from his
plum, wincing a little at the touch of the rough cloth.
Still Anton just lay there, admiring what was certainly very much
to be admired. Then he reached up for a picture book, the stiff member
wobbling in its weak rooting as his upper body arched. He brought the
picture of one beauty to the surface of the bed beside his loins. He
held the open book above his midriff for a long time, look at it, but
making no attempt to stimulate his organ. Apart from the occasionally
pulsing which is natural in an unattended erection, there was no obvious reaction in his tool.
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He switched on the bedlight, and lay admiring the growing weapon.
By now it was no mere stiffy, but a tree in full flare. He watched the
taut skin pulling slowly back across the glistening plum-surface of
his close textured glans. There was no quick flick of the fingers this
time: he was taking his time. When the skin finally caught up on the
flaring corona, the upturned rim of his glorious helmet, he pressed
down with both hands on his pubic lawn, stretching the skin on the
shaft enough to clear the rim.