tagToys & MasturbationGrip of Night

Grip of Night


The house is cold and dark. No noise except the hum of the A/C and shoes as they strike the wood. My head tilts slightly down, as to not be blinded, as I apply power to the light. Walking into the kitchen, I place my bag on the counter before hanging my keys on the predetermined hook. I stand there momentarily, hands on the cold stone slab, a breath fills my lungs before leaving fairly quickly.

Eyes adjust to the white blinding light, sudden arctic blast as my stomach scans the nights possibilities. Hunger escapes, mainly due to lack of interest.

The walk down the hall feels longer than most days as I slowly unbutton my shirt, tossing it towards the hamper. Tired, weary legs rested as I sit at the foot of my bed, pulling the strings of each shoe, freeing my arches. Falling back, arms stretched upward, eyes transfixed to the constant game of follow the leader being performed on the ceiling above me.

Todays cloths now rest in a pile as I stand before the basin, washing the day from my face. Hands feel the abrasive nature of the evening growth. Lifting my head from the sink, staring at the stranger before me, hypnotized by the eyes. Neither of us flinch or blink. We play this game often, a little too often. I turn my back to the intruder, not admitting defeat, but rather ending in a stalemate. The goal, to leave him behind.

Light striking the walls without a sound, voices fill the room with no one present as I settle in. With covers at my chest, I'm absorbed into a relentless showing of light and magic in which there appears to be no escape. Tossing and turning, linen tangles around my limbs. I try to hide from that which seeks me. Attempting further comfort, I adjust my body, looking for something, anything.

As darkness fills the room, my mind re-lives the day. Subtle at first, the way people interact with each other, water cooler banter around a non existent cooler. The way her tanned legs looked seated at her desk, the aroma of her shampoo and perfume mix to create such a delightful texture for the senses. I find my hand gingerly moving across my boxer as if controlled by an unknown deity.

Her hand adjust the hem of her skirt before resting on her knee for only a moment. Fluorescent beams of light reflect off her smooth skin in my direction. The friction of the cotton protecting me from an immediate seizure by my grasp, moves the distance across my growing response.

Imagination moves up her thighs. Is she as sexy under the skirt? Panties or thong? Cotton or lace? Satin or silk? Fingers attempt to encircle the growing presence inside my boxers, squeezing firmly at the rainbow of possibilities in her choice of color.

Returning to gentle caresses. The softness of the cotton moves in multiple directions over my flaccid member. Bending my legs, one raised, the other lying on the sheet, my body explores the sensations that my mind offers.

Slipping beneath the waistband, the hairs give a slight tickle as my calloused skin grazes across the soft wrinkled texture of my sack. It tightens, pulling itself closer, almost as if to avoid the inevitable. Blood rushes from my body filling the void as I begin to swell. No aide rendered as it begins to slide up onto my belly. Forcefully I pulled my balls from their shelter, a tight grip consumes each as my palm struggles to contain the mass.

Filled with desire, it hovers just over my stomach. My open hand begins to journey up the smooth, hot skin, pressing it against my body. The hard flesh twitches as each finger wraps around in a gentle hug. I pull my arm up, dragging my digits up the full length of the shaft. The room goes dark as my eyes close. The subtle pulse of my cock as it submits to what is about to happen.

I push downward, forcing the loose skin to expose the dark purple face, before shielding it as I drag my hand up onto the head. It jumps as it stiffens even further, tightening the vice over the tip. A warm moistness greets my palm as the shielding is free to slide unabated now. The glow in the room returns to my eyes. Her scent, faint and distorted but ever present, fogs my mind.

With each pull upward, a single drop is forced from within. Holding the rock hard meat straight up, my thumb massages the small amount of slick liquid gently onto the tip. Darkness returns, head forced back into the pillow as my fist clenches tightly around it. Images scroll right to left through my mind. The days interaction floods my thoughts. With each pump of my imprisoned member, the slides show increases, desperately searching for the one that would end this assault.

The feel of my steel within my grasp, the stretched hide barely has room to move over it. Muscles ache, the increased tension through my body almost painful. Silence broken without a warning as a deep groan vibrates my chest.

It travels with force upward. Hot, thick, streams of magma fire into the air, landing where it pleases. The violence of this is overwhelming. Any attempts to holt the onslaught is beyond control. Molten, hot liquid streaming down, flowing across each white knuckle as I uncontrollably search for all the oxygen in the room.

Opening my eyes, the scene is one of total chaos. The hair across my abdomen is matted as the evidence of my orgasm clings to everything it contacted. My spent cock softens slowly within my hand as the pressure subsides, and I lay it to rest comfortably on my stomach. My fingers rub the large volume of cum the spilled downward onto my balls and onto the bed below me.

Removing myself from bed, I climb inside the shower. Head hung low as the water flows down my spine, erasing yet another night.

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