Cold Turkey

"Aw," he whispered, "not enough? You need some more? You want me to touch you... here?" He gave his frenulum the merest, slightest tap, then withdrew his hand and watched his shaft angle upwards, desperately seeking more of that exquisite pleasure, seeking, desperately needing orgasm. "You want more?" he whispered. "More of this?" He flicked his fingers up and down his penis, tickling the shaft, feathering all around the head, teasing, teasing...

He was close, so close! He looked at the clock - 3:00 am. It's the next day, he thought to himself - so technically I went a whole day without jerking off! I deserve a reward for that, don't I? For a good start? He bit his lower lip as he continued to tease his excited cock. But the truth dawned on him; what had started out as manly resolve had changed into a maddening edging session that had lasted all night.

He remembered a time when he had had a chat with another man in a sex chat room. They were playing with their cocks while they looked at some really exciting pics Daryl had found on the dark web. The man's screen name was "voluptuary", which he said meant that he really loved pleasure (Daryl's was "alwayshard"). He was really smart, and he told Daryl about a philosopher who once said in Latin, "Cogito ergo sum," which meant "I think therefore I am." Then the man said that what described him a lot better was, "Ego masturbari ergo sum" - "I masturbate therefore I am." It defines me, he had said; my entire existence is centered on stroking my cock. Me, too, Daryl had said. I love it! God, I love it so much!

He got out of bed again, and stood in front of the mirror, with the lights on him. He stood with his hands held behind him and his hips thrust forward, his erect, tormented cock front and center. He remembered a saying of another wise man: "I yam what I yam!" said Popeye. That's me, too, thought Daryl. And what I yam is a slave to my beautiful hard cock. I can't resist. I'll always give it what it needs, even if I've driven it crazy teasing it; especially then.

He looked at himself in the mirror, standing sideways so he could see his penis standing straight out in front of him. Still watching himself, he ran a finger lightly along the underside of the shaft. His erection reacted immediately, curving into an upward arc of intense arousal. "You like that?" he whispered, and continued feathering up and down the underside of his penis with his fingertips, teasing it, coaxing it towards ejaculation. Forming a ring with his thumb and index finger he began to stroke slowly, from the head to an inch down the shaft, up and down, brushing the rim of the head with each stroke, slowly, lightly, barely making contact with his inflamed prick. "Like that?" he whispered... "Want more?" He added another finger as he stroked, and struggled to resist the climax that he felt building rapidly. When all five fingers had been added to his masturbating fist, he reached down with his other hand to gently scratch his balls while he continued to stroke his cock slowly up and down, twisting his fist, squeezing, jerking, looking down to see the engorged head repeatedly disappear into his fist to re-emerge swollen with lust, glistening with pre-ejaculate.

He closed his eyes, cried out in helpless surrender, and came.