One Evening

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A story of male self-pleasure.
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As soon as Matthew sent off the e-mail to Stacy, he turned off the computer and leaned back in the high-backed office chair, letting his arms rest on the cushioned armrests. What a day, he thought wearily.

That morning had seen him wearing a grin that could have lit up a Christmas tree. Spending the time with Stacy on the chat room had left him so horny that right after he had logged off he had to masturbate. He had planned on writing her a story afterwards about it, but no sooner had he came that his brother had called and asked to be second driver for the trip to Barrie. Although he went, since John needed a ride there to get the car, Matthew had felt badly all day that he didn't have the chance to write the story. At least the day was bearable with thoughts of Stacy, and the image of her in the photograph stayed sharp in his mind. Now, after the fourteen hours of driving and the frustration of the trip, he could finally go to bed. He just prayed that he could get up with the alarm to see Stacy in the morning.

With Chessie off sleeping somewhere, Matthew pushed himself out of the warm chair to head for the bedroom. The cottage was cold from barely being heated during the day, but he didn't mind. Once he was beneath the sleeping bag he used as a blanket then it would be warm.

The bedroom was just large enough to have the double bed and a mirrored dresser. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Matthew glanced at himself in the mirror and gave a rueful grin. He'd looked better. With just the headboard light as illumination, he removed his winter boots and socks, the concrete beneath the old carpet frightfully cold on his soles. The vest came off next, tossed onto the dining room chair in the corner. Standing up before the mirrored dresser, he began undoing the belt and jeans. Once undone, the denim jeans fell to pool around his ankles. Kicking the jeans off, Matthew sat back down on the bed and removed the shirt, tossing it atop the jeans.

Wearing just the navy blue briefs, Matthew thought about the images he had been thinking about all day. The images of Stacy were of her in the blue shirt and white panties, wiggling around in a happy dance next to her computer, hands running through her hair and fluffing it out, lost to the rhythm of the music. He let himself picture it over and over, suddenly feeling his cock shift in the briefs. As the fantasy continued playing before his minds eye his cock slowly hardened, bulging the front of the briefs. Almost without thinking about it, he began to caress it lightly through the cloth, shifting its position so it was pointing upwards. After only a minute or two, he was too hard to have the briefs on anymore.

Getting back up, he gripped the shorts and slowly tugged them down, his erection springing boldly as it was released. Tossing the briefs atop his other clothes he looked at his erection in the mirror. Although it was only seven inches, it was still a nice cock in his own opinion. It curved almost as much as a banana and had no foreskin. The thick fireman's hat head was reddish from the erection, the thick vein underneath throbbing slightly. His testicles were slightly larger than average, but they hung level with each other. Putting his right hand around the member, he began stroking it gently, enjoying the feeling it brought.

Lowering himself back down on the bed, Matthew swung his legs up to lay completely upon it, not feeling the chill in the cottage anymore. Tracing his fingers lightly over the hard cock, he fantasized more about Stacy. Her words came back to him, about how she had been too hot and had removed her track pants. The image formed of her in her chair in front of the computer, lifting her derriere as she wiggled out of the pants, leaving her legs bare now. Matthew took his member again in his hand and stroked it; the images of Stacy frightfully clear in his mind. More images formed, seeing her stand from the chair and putting her hands just under the hem of the shirt. With her back turned to him she then lowered her panties to the floor, bending right over, the shirt riding up to fully expose her beautiful buttocks.

Over and over the images played in his mind. As they did he continued stroking his cock, his left hand gently caressing his balls. Hips trusting his bum from the bed slightly, he could feel an orgasm nearing. Normally it took him a long time to achieve release, but with images of Stacy in his mind he was too horny to hold it back. His pumping grew faster, stroking the cock from base to swollen head and back again, grunting and moaning as he thrust his hips off the bed. The cock was so hard it was almost perfectly ramrod-straight, and it throbbed madly. Matthew had to clench his teeth as the sensations grew even more so, pre-cum now covering his cock and hand as it flowed from the head. As his testicles shifted to hug the base of his cock, he knew he was about to blow his load.

A new image formed in his mind, one of Stacy leaning back in her chair before the computer and putting her hand into her panties. With her head thrown back she made little mewling sounds as she stroked her bare pussy, her panties and fingers coated in the nectar of womanhood. That was all it took for Matthew. Crying out unconsciously, he kept thrusting his hips and pumping furiously as he came. He felt like he was hit by lightning as milky-white semen literally fired from his cock in incredible spurts, landing on his chest and thighs as more continued to jet from him. After what seemed an eternity, he let his hips fall back to the bed, holding his still hard cock as he panted, spent by the force of the orgasm. As he lay there, he marveled at how Stacy could do make him come so hard. For the hundredth time since he had met her, he thanked his stars that she had let him into her life.

After a minute to recover, he went to the washroom and quickly cleaned himself up. Matthew was very surprised with the amount that he had came, and the fact he had came that morning on top of it was very surprising. When he had finished he went straight into bed, turning out the headboard light and curling up beneath the spread sleeping bag. As he felt himself drifting off to sleep, he thought more of Stacy. Doing so, his hand subconsciously held his now softened penis. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

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