Pride and Prurience

Fernsby could see that Mr. Abbey was still focusing his attention on the back of the fallen man's head and neck. He thought about how he could best cover his manhood, but his one arm was blocked by Mr. Abbey's arm, and his other arm was supporting his weight in the reclining position. He figured that as soon as Mr. Abbey completed his scan and removed his hand from his thigh, he would swiftly cover himself.

Mr. Abbey's hand started to work its way across the muscles in the fallen man's upper back. As he stretched while reaching to assess Captain Fernsby's shoulder on the other side of his body, Mr. Abbey's other palm slid further across Fernsby's thigh.

Fernsby startled; the side of Mr. Abbey's hand made contact with his member. He could feel an increasing warmth in his manhood. He stared down at his cock, which was resting against the hand gripping into his thigh. He couldn't believe what was happening. He was a respectable gentleman, and yet he despaired of anyone finding credible his panicked explanation for the sordid scene, were he forced to offer it up.

"Did that hurt?" asked Mr. Abbey, having noticed the wounded man startle.

Before Fernsby could respond, Mr. Abbey tried to lean over more to better feel the place on the rugged captain's shoulder that had elicited the reaction. He lifted his other hand slightly from his thigh, only to plant it down again a second later.

Fernsby watched in horror. Mr. Abbey's hand landed right onto top of his virile member, pushing it firmly into his massive thigh. He inhaled deeply in reaction to having his manhood touched. The pressure from the young man's body weight pushing his palm around Captain Fernsby's organ felt both stimulating and uncomfortable.

Mr. Abbey continued to glide his hand - the one checking for wounds - across the injured man's spine. Fernsby felt a tingling sensation as the fingertips made contact with each of his vertebrae. Mr. Abbey further shifted his weight; he grasped tightly to ensure that he wouldn't fall, unintentionally massaging Captain Fernsby's cock.

Fernsby felt his virile member growing hard. He was uncertain how that could be happening. He could never have imagined being in such a scenario. The harder his cock became, the more it reacted to the massaging grasp of the young man's hand. He was utterly ashamed of himself; he was thankful for the fact that Mr. Abbey seemed oblivious as to what was happening. His position gave him no good vantage of Fernsby's front side, and he seemed intently focused on his hunt for serious injury.

With the blood surging to his manhood, it wasn't long before Captain Fernsby's member was completely tumescent. He could only see the base of his twenty-two-centimeter cock before the rest disappeared below Mr. Abbey's hand. He felt his manhood pulsing in response to the forceful stimulation. He took deep breaths to steady himself. He was trying to slow down his reaction; he hoped that focusing on inhaling and exhaling would disrupt the flood of sensations rushing into his swollen organ.

Mr. Abbey was now prodding at the area over Captain Fernsby's right hip. He was still positioned so his head was behind the fallen man's back; his warm cheek pressed into his spine as his dug his thumb into the hip muscle.

"Did you injure your thigh?" Mr. Abbey asked. "I think I feel a large lump under my other hand, but I am unable to look due to my positioning."

Fernsby's heart dropped. He froze, unable to conceive of an acceptable response. He couldn't admit - to himself or the young man - that Mr. Abbey's touch had caused him to have such a lascivious reaction. He decided to tell Mr. Abbey that he was actually feeling quite fine, and that he did not believe the fall had done anything other than knock the wind out of him.

Fernsby felt Mr. Abbey's warm, cupped palm start to slide up and down his cock. He felt the throbbing in his manhood increase. The curve between Mr. Abbey's thumb and index finger was caressing the junction of where the wounded man's shaft met his cock head. Captain Fernsby bit his lip to suppress a moan.

"I think you injured the muscle in your thigh; it feels incredibly taut. I'm not feeling it soften. I shall massage it for a minute to ascertain if that makes it improve or worsen."

Fernsby heard a cacophony of swirling thoughts in his head:

Have you no shame being publicly naked and having your virile member stimulated by another man? How are you going to explain this when he realizes what is going on? He is going to think you are a pervert! What if someone comes up the stairs and finds Mr. Abbey massaging your cock in the middle of the hallway?

In spite of that whirling dervish of jumbled thoughts, Captain Fernsby was clear in the fact that Mr. Abbey's attentions felt amazing.

The novel sensations flooding into his body were starting to cloud out the screaming thoughts. Fernsby watched as Mr. Abbey's hand started to more-quickly traverse the length of his cock while maintaining the force pressing it against his thigh. He could see his own abs moving up and down in a more rapid tempo as his breathing quickened. His nipples were hard; they were sensitive to the slightest shift in the breeze coming through the hallway.

Fernsby looked on as a small drop of jism started to ooze out of his large cock head. He could feel the defined vein on the side of his organ pushing against the muscle in his thigh. His bollocks started to tighten, pulling closer to his body.

"I think you are going to need to call the doctor about this muscle injury," Mr. Abbey said. "It just seems to get tighter the more I massage it."

By thunder! Captain Fernsby thought as he felt the young man's hand slide across the edge of his cock head and back down the shaft yet again. He knew that the muscle Mr. Abbey was massaging was indeed harder than it had been in ages, but that was about to change.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Fernsby moaned just below his breath, desperate to not let the sound be heard by Mr. Abbey.

Fernsby watched as his cock head started to rapidly throb; it had turned red from the rush of blood and stimulation. He looked down as a thick rope of hot, white cum shot from his virile member across his thigh, down to his knee.

"'I think I feel the muscle giving way; it's pulsing," Mr. Abbey said excitedly.

"Yes! Keep massaging it; press harder! I can feel it coming..." Fernsby frantically replied, with a small moan, "... I can feel it coming loose."

Captain Fernsby couldn't believe he had just said that. It was one thing to have circumstance lead him into this mortifying position; but to actively participate was another matter entirely. He wondered what he was going to tell Mr. Abbey when he realized that Fernsby was covered in jism, and that he had been tricked into stimulating the rugged captain to the point of sensual release.

He watched as the young man followed his orders, pressing harder, and moving his hand with greater speed and intensity. He felt his cock throbbing as three more ropes of jism erupted in quick succession. He let out a loud grunt when the fifth-and-final rope of his seed shot from his body. The puddle on his thigh and knee was sizable; it was starting to ooze down the side of his leg.

Fernsby felt Mr. Abbey's hand stop moving. He started to panic. What am I going to do? What egress, what excuses are available to me? He felt his heart beating rapidly as his manhood started to soften.

"I can feel that the muscle came loose," Mr. Abbey said, his face still pressed against Captain Fernsby's back.

Fernsby watched in horror as the young man started to pull away from his body; he could feel his hand leaving its warm spot on his soft member as his cheek was separating from the place it had been resting against his spine.

"Wait!" he shouted. "Can you just press on the muscle for a minute longer, so it doesn't spasm again?"

He was trying to delay Mr. Abbey's departure. He needed another minute to come up with a plan. He wondered if he might be able to dash into his room before Mr. Abbey saw his jism-soaked thigh. He knew that wouldn't work though, since the young man would have to shift his body in a way that allowed him to see everything as he stood up.

"I really need to take leave, Captain Fernsby. As I mentioned earlier, I am quite unwell and need to go lay down."

As Mr. Abbey began to lift himself from his crouching position, Captain Fernsby gave him a slight nudge with his upper back. He heard a small gasp as the disoriented young man fell onto his bum. He knew it would only take a few seconds for Mr. Abbey to recover and stand up and see everything.

He imagined Mr. Abbey towering over him with a look of disgust and contempt on his face. He could see his own reclining body, with his deflating cock sitting next to the pool of his own seed on his thigh. He wondered if Mr. Abbey would become angry and scream, attracting the attention of others nearby? The idea of a small crowd forming around him as he quivered pitifully - naked and smeared with jism - was too much to bear.

Fernsby didn't have time to think, so he acted. He took his left hand and quickly scooped the seed into his palm to the best of his ability. He noticed that his leg still looked slick but he was hoping it would pass for the glisten of sweat. He could hear Mr. Abbey starting to rise to his feet. He searched desperately for place to hide the evidence of his deviance. He saw none, and yet conceived of one.

Fernsby swiftly raised his cupped hand to his face, taking a moment to look at the thick pool of jism that almost filled his entire palm. Without thinking, he tilted his head and poured his hot seed into his mouth. He felt his stomach turn as the sticky salinity washed over his tastebuds. He created a cupped shape with his tongue, as he had done with his hand, to hold the jism. He suppressed a strong desire to gag as he noticed the warmth emanating from the fluid.

Mr. Abbey finally managed to make it back up to his feet. He bent down to brush some dirt off of his shoes before looking at Captain Fernsby. He was still in a reclining position, with his manhood exposed for all to see. The young man started to make his way inside of his room.

Fernsby stood up, making an effort to not look back. He could sense Mr. Abbey standing behind him. He was moving slowly, trying to not disrupt the precarious pool of seed balanced on his tongue. The amount of fluid was growing; saliva from not being able to swallow was swirling into the warm, sticky jism.

He started to walk down the hallway towards the door to the room that he should have entered earlier that afternoon. He thought he could still see Mr. Abbey watching him from the corner of his eye. He was feeling mortified, slinking away naked with a mouth full of his own his own seed.

"Captain Fernsby," he heard Mr. Abbey call out.

He paused, debating whether to run towards his new room or to turn around. He could not think of a reason that would explain running away, so he slowly spun around to face the young man. He could see that Mr. Abbey had a very stern look on his face; it appeared that he was quite angry again.

"How dare you!" he shouted. "First you inconvenience me when I am feeling quite unwell. Then I take the time to help you after you fall down, even though I would have preferred to retreat to my room. But I have common courtesy, which is apparently something that you lack!"

Fernsby desperately wanted to say something to calm the young man. He could hear his voice getting louder after each belittling comment. He was certain that, if he kept increasing his tone, people would soon start to come to investigate what was happening. He felt the nauseatingly warm mix of jism and saliva sloshing in his mouth; it was so full that his cheeks were pushing outward to make more space for the fluid.

"I am not asking for you to shower me with praise! I just want a basic recognition that you have benefited from my kindness today! I do not understand how you cannot adhere to this simple social convention!"

Captain Fernsby felt as if the salty seed was on the verge oozing from his lips. He inhaled deeply through his nose. And then, he took the biggest gulp he could force himself to ingest. He felt the warm jism slide down his throat. He had to swallow several times in quick succession; he had been unable to gulp it all down at once without risking gagging or having it spill out of his mouth. It only took him a moment to feel the sticky warmth of his seed radiating in his stomach.

Fernsby watched Mr. Abbey make a perplexed face as he listened to him make several frantic gulping noises. He was trying to be as expedient as possible. He was certain that someone would come any moment, having heard the commotion.

"Mr. Abbey..." Captain Fernsby started, noticing the lingering taste in his mouth. He was no longer even trying to cover himself at this point; he was exhausted. "Mr. Abbey, thank you for offering your assistance. I very much appreciate the concern you expressed with regard to my fall. I apologize for making you think otherwise."

Mr. Abbey nodded his head. He did not appear to be happy, but he seemed done with lashing out. He took a step back into his room, scanning over Captain Fernsby's exposed body with a look of disdain.

"I am going to recuperate now, but you may return before supper to collect your things," he said as he shut the door. The captain heard the telltale clicking noise of a lock bolting shut on the inside.

Fernsby quickly made his way to the end of the hallway. He felt the remnants of jism on his thigh drying as he walked. He couldn't believe what had had just been through: exposed, embarrassed, accidentally stimulated to the point of orgasm, and forced to eat his own hot seed.

As he reached the door of the room Mr. Abbey had pointed to earlier, he was starting to feel some sense of relief. He thought about how he could go into the room, put on some borrowed clothes, and try to sleep for a few hours to forget about what had just happened.

He turned the knob to the door; it did not give. He tried again with more force, but it refused to budge. He realized that it was locked.

Captain Fernsby turned, facing the other direction to find that he was opposite a large mirror. He looked at himself; he was now a different man than he had been when he woke up. His large, muscular frame was slumped forward. He had previously felt powerful when looking at his over-sized biceps and bulky thighs; he now felt pathetic.

He had so much shame. He didn't understand how he could have reacted that way to Mr. Abbey's touch. He wondered why he hadn't stopped things before his virile member had become tumescent. He couldn't figure out how he was so expediently able to ingest his own seed. Most importantly, he didn't understand how his mortified ruminations, while standing naked in a hallway, were making his cock hard all over again.

Fernsby heard loud voices coming from the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall. He knew he only had a few moments to decide what to do next if he didn't want the people turning the corner to find him standing there wearing only stockings with his hard manhood jutting out in front of him. He didn't think he could face another humiliation, but he was about to find out.