Thoughts of a Man Alone

More delight as I saw pink painted nails and fingers appear and touch. A single index finger touching and so gently -- a feminine touch indeed -- moving the prepuce just as I desired to do, rolling it over the glans and then back. Binoculars in one hand, my substantial erection in the other, I watched as not one but three fingers slid into the roundness of the lips, a pink and frilled vestibule to the passage into the inner room. Yes, room does rhyme with womb!

Would I like to be admitted from the vestibule into the inner passage? Might my head touch the very entrance to the inner room and peek in with watering 'eye'?

It was too much for me. Gobs of pent-up semen began pouring from my penis, thoughts in my mind of it being inside that feminine passage, spurting and flowing out from me. I counted as I sometimes do -- one, two, three -- I reached twelve. Twelve spurts of cum, a dozen shots of varying intensity and force up my naked body. I licked my lips tasting salt. One spurt had gone so far.

My eyes opened and there I was, still alone upon the verandah. Completely alone. Still there in the cool of the shade. The breeze blowing under my chair still warm, still gently caressing my now emptied balls. They had been full and heavy, as if they had been weighing my scrotum down. They still hung low. My penis was no longer hanging slack and soft. Anything but, with the very clear evidence all up my body that it had just ejaculated, clear to anyone that had occurred and it would soon return to its resting state. I reached and scooped the remaining drops left at the tip of my cockhead, before sucking and licking my fingers. A simple act. But what of the rest of my semen, streaks and spurtings all up my rather hairy body -- cooling to me in the heat! I was in no hurry to deal with it all. No one appearing would mistake what had happened! No one would think I had been simply sunbathing -- naked. But no one would be there. There was no risk of being disturbed. It was, in a way, a moment to treasure. One of those moments not to be forgotten... good feelings indeed. The first solo sexual act of my holiday. There would be more. Many more. My penis would be well exercised.

I had not seen Tessa half naked on her lawn; Aurélie had not visited me and undone her lime green top; I had not got up to see if there were any delightful young mariners, male and female, upon the sea; no Ruth and Guy there under my archway in their amusingly numbered caps; and there had been no large clitorised woman next door alone or with a man friend. Indeed, there was no 'next door' villa. My villa is isolated and very private - as am I.