Shameful Exhibitionist

My hands trembled as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my boxer shorts. The room had stopped spinning but I was still feeling a bit zipped from the booze. But what I really felt was the throbbing of my erection.

I squinted through the mask I was wearing, peering across the room, trying to see beyond the glare of the spotlights. But my audience was in dark shadow. I knew they were there because I could hear them breathing. Every once in a while, someone would shuffle, or there would be the mechanical click of a camera shutter.

I looked down at the pulsing tent in my boxers and at the heap of clothes on the floor ... the clothes I had just peeled off. The idea that I had crossed a boundary into some new world floated through my head but I didn't spend any time thinking about it. My level of arousal was simply too high. I was about to show this anonymous group how insanely excited I was at undressing in front of them, letting them take my picture or make a movie of me.

For a split second I felt something like shame and turned my back to them, but I knew I would continue to strip. I slid my boxers down slowly. As I pulled the waistband over my rigid cock, I felt both the resistance of the fabric and again the sense of having reached a point of no return. My hard-on sprang back up as my boxers finally fell to the floor and I kicked them aside. I reminded myself that I was wearing a costume mask over my eyes so it was all completely anonymous. I took a deep breath, then turned back to face my audience, my erection pumping along with my racing heart.

There was a flurry of shutters going off, some electronic beeping as video cameras were activated, flashes were set off. I heard somebody whisper, "Wow, he's really turned on." Someone else chuckled quietly. I lifted my arms over my head and started to gently sway my hips in a small circle. I would stop from time to time and pose briefly, my cock straining almost straight up. Sometimes I couldn't help but tense the muscles at the base of my erection. Each time, a jolt of pleasure shot through me and I trembled. My breath was shallow and my heart beating a mile a minute. I wasn't sure anymore if I was really OK or if I would have some kind of collapse, but I also didn't really care. I was the prisoner of an incredible urge to show myself to these strangers, despite the humiliation ... or maybe because of it.

"Touch yourself," somebody said. He said it in a matter-of-fact tone, without any emotion. My swaying dance hesitated for a moment, then I reached one hand down and gently stroked my balls in an upward movement, slowly running my finger tips over my rigid shaft. I closed my eyes as the pleasure swept over me. A few more shutters went off. "That's right," someone said, a different voice this time. I closed my eyes and repeated my light stroking motion, once and then once again.

The tension in my stone-hard cock was almost unbearable. I had not given any thought to what I was doing or where this would end, I had just decided to do something that I had fantasized about almost since I could remember. Obviously this was not anything rational and my judgment was not helped by the gin and tonics I had been downing to give me the courage I needed to get this done. Now there I was, nude in front of a group of complete strangers, my hard-on pounding, the tell-tale tingle of release building in my balls. I knew immediately, when that stranger had told me to touch myself, that this would end in only one way.

I continued my swaying motion and put both hands over my head again. I flexed the muscles at the base of my penis, sending shivers of pleasure through me. I started to thrust my cock forward, in slow and gentle motions, each time squeezing the muscles around my balls, flexing my erection.

The shutters kept snapping, a little faster now. "Oh, man," someone said. "I think he's gonna lose it."

Each time I flexed my cock, the pressure built a little bit more. I opened my eyes and strained once again to see my audience, but there was only shadow.

"I think it's time you came for us," said the first voice again. Cold and without any feeling. It was like a bolt of lightning, being ordered to commit this ultimate act of self-humiliation. I knew I wouldn't refuse him.

I tensed again and knew that I was about to cum. I took in a sharp breath, held it, and flexed one more time. I thought I was about to pass out as the pressure overwhelmed me and I finally let go. I looked down as a long string of sperm shot from my cock toward the spotlight. I exhaled quickly as two more spurts of cum shot in rapid succession towards the audience.

"Oh my god," someone said. The shutters were chattering furiously. I gritted my teeth and reached down to firmly grab my twitching erection. A fourth jet of cum flew out of my cock and landed with a thud on the carpet in front of me. I stroked myself quickly, once, twice and again, as the orgasm continued to sweep through my body and as my cock continued to shoot.

After a moment, the intensity began quickly to subside. The strength of each ejaculation started to wane, the cum now just flowing out of me in globs, covering my cock and my hand, falling to the floor at my feet.

At that point I started to return to reality. I noticed a large blob of cum on my boxers. The room was strangely quiet, except for a single beeping sound as someone shut off their camera. I was breathing heavily and felt utterly drained, both physically and mentally.

I again glanced towards the audience but now I just felt vulnerable and exposed. I bent down and picked up my clothes and walked quickly to the bathroom near the front door of the hotel room. I locked the door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was flushed and there was a sheen of perspiration on my forehead. My hands were still trembling.

Nothing would be the same again.