An Adventure in Masturbation

As a creative writer, I look for things either in my own life or in someone else's and I twist them every which way, creating an original piece of work from my imagination; that's what creative writers do. But once in a while, it's wise to reflect on one's personal life, without changing what really happened, in order to make sure that insanity hasn't taken over completely. This story is exactly one of those reflections on something very embarrassing, but humorous, that happened to me recently.

I think in cycles, as I believe most of us human beings do. What I mean is my thought processes are similar to that of a woman's menstruation cycle. There are ups and downs, and hot flashes along the way. That being said, one day I was in my down portion of the cycle and decided, after having a long, internal dispute about how filthy a person can be, that I would not look at photos of nude women or masturbate for a while. It was a test of endurance, addiction, and temptation.

The first three days of this test were very successful. I was able to go without so much as looking at a woman in a bikini nor touching my penis (except when urinating, of course). I thought I was doing well.

On day four, I started to have very hard erections for no apparent reason, simply because my penis missed its routine of every other night. I felt a little horny and began to look at pictures of clothed women (some not very) on websites where you rate how hot they are. I survived yet another long day without any filthy habits returning.

Days five through nine became gradually harder and harder on me, as I became frustrated and hornier every hour. My penis was as hard as it had been in a long time. I started to rub my penis a little, but did not pump at it, as pumping would be masturbation.

On day ten, I began to figure out ways to get as close to my habits as I could without actually doing them. I was cheating my own system. I was looking at women in bikinis and underwear, and finding ways to please my penis without making it function. Day eleven was much of the same. I became very grouchy.

My personal hopes were that I would last at least two weeks, but I was not expecting such a bad day as day twelve. I woke up on day twelve as cranky as could be because I was not releasing the hormones that had been released on a regular basis before. I went to the workplace pissed off and somewhat sickly-looking, and due to my shyness and some other circumstances, an event there made me very angry at myself. I came home steaming, and immediately took a nap.

When I awoke, my anger has dissolved, but I was as horny as ever. My penis was sticking up from under the comforter, holding it up like it was a tent. I rubbed it a little, then decided that because of the stress of the day I'd had, I was going to end half of my arrangement and begin to look at pictures of naked women again, little did I know that I would end the entire thing in a few hours.

After a good stint of porno, my young, curious mind became active, and I had decided that since my penis was the hardest I thought I'd ever seen it, I was going to take a picture of it with my digital camera. This meant that I had to bend the rules a little and pump it between photos to keep it up. I told myself, "Okay, I am not masturbating. I am only doing this for the photo shoot and nothing else. The resistance continues when I finish taking pictures."

I set my digital camera up and took some test shots using my pointer finger to get a good figure of where to point the lens. After I could not find a suitable aim, I decided I would have to take them while I sit on my bed. So, I put up a picture of a gorgeous, young, dishwater-blonde MILF I'd taken a snapshot of from her web cam earlier on my computer screen as a stimulant, pulled my pants down, and sat on my bed with my camera.

I pumped my penis a little, just to get rid of the limpness and took my first picture. I failed to aim correctly, so my penis was not in the photo at all. Thinking of a better angle, I pumped my penis again and tried another shot. This time, I was able to get my shaft, but nothing else. I became a little frustrated.

I decided to go for a quick-shooting method where I would just take pictures quickly while I kept pumping a little. So, I looked at the computer screen, thought about how I'd like that MILF to take the picture for me, and began to pump away with my left hand as my right hand floated around my crotch, shooting a picture or two.

All of a sudden, I felt the familiar feelings of a ready-to-burst orgasm. I thought nothing of it at first, as in the past I was always able to feel the pre-entertainment of an orgasm. I knew it had to be just getting ready to fire. I kept pumping, looked at the screen, and took another picture.

Before I knew it, I felt the beautiful feeling of my cum moving up my shaft to make its big finale, but this time it wasn't too beautiful. I didn't want to cum, and I wasn't supposed to be ready. Had I been so horny for so long without relief that my system was working overtime and ready to fire all its ammo with just a few measly pumps?

Knowing that this could be trouble, I threw my camera on the bed, covered the tip of my penis with my left hand, and squeezed hard on my shaft with my right hand. This was all systems go, and I was firing, whether I wanted to or not.

Just as I figured out my right hand couldn't stop it and I moved it forward to help my left hand cover the tip, I felt the warm ooze jet forward with tremendous pressure on the palm of my left hand. So much came with the first burst that even with the response of my right hand, some dripped onto the carpet below. I did the only things I could do: made sure I wasn't making any distinctive noise, let the multiple bursts of cum fill my hands, and enjoyed the long-anticipated orgasm.

When it finally finished and my body settled, I knew that my hands were holding a lake of my juice. I knew that some of it had dripped onto the carpet. But my biggest concern was that with the emergency orgasm, I might have been heard breathing hard or even pumping in the next room. Being my young age and living with family is a maximum sexual frustration. I couldn't worry about that, though, because cum stains things.

I needed my hands, so I had no other options but to wipe all my goodness off on my underwear. I literally drenched those boxers when I had finished wiping. Then, I had to act on the carpet. To my advantage, it was white carpet, so a cum stain wouldn't be very distinctive, but I still didn't want it to stain. I had to do what I had to do, and I bent over, licked what I could up and wiped at it with my boxers. I don't mind tasting myself, but being forced in such a way isn't sexy at all.

I learned, in what could have been a very embarrassing situation, what premature ejaculation is. After cleaning myself and changing my underwear, I was feeling very guilty and kind of mad at myself again, so I deleted the pictures, whom none were very good, and went to bed. I'm just glad no one was there to see that; one of my lowest moments ever. Still, that hard-on and that orgasm are both for the record books.