The Hunger Is Born

This is part 2 of a young man discovering himself through public masturbation.

Vanilla. That's how I would describe my sexual journey up to this point in my life.

Until I met my current girlfriend, I had never really had a sexual experience. There was the usual progression; finding a girl I liked, trying to get her interested in me, making out, some petting, etc.

I fondly remember meeting up with my girlfriend the BIG NIGHT. We walked down the street from her house to a home that was still under construction. We sat together on the floor making out, locked in each other's arms, unsupervised and eager.

Neither of us had any experience. We just did what came naturally. I remember the silky heat when she guided my hand between her legs, my fingers finding their mark.

We made love that night. At least that's how we approached it. We were naive 18 year olds desperate for connection, following a formula laid out long before our coupling.

Every physical action that led up to that night had been a steady progression to that goal.

First base. Second base. Third base. You know the story.

Unknown to me (at the time), this process of progression would train me, shaping my view on sex and sexuality for a lifetime to come.

By the third or fourth time we made love, the wholesomeness was wearing thin. Aggression and lust were taking its place. Love making turned into fucking. Desire became need. Not need for each other, as much as the need to get off.

now, I had always loved masturbating. I knew what felt good to me. I knew how to move my needle. Truthfully, I could get fucked everyday, and I'd still need to milk my cock.

I'd drive somewhere I could be alone for a few minutes. The anticipation would build the entire drive just thinking about jerking off to pages torn from a skin mag or the scent of my girlfriend's pussy lingering on my fingers.

After that cold night outside the car, standing in the empty intersection, furiously pulling my engorged cock, something else began to invade my mind when I found myself alone.

I had "followed the recipe" every young man followed. But that night, I took a detour.

I wasn't staring at pictures of top heavy women with their tits on display for me. I wasn't thinking about fucking my girlfriend (or any girl for that matter). I certainly wasn't thinking about getting caught or being seen.

My mind was blank. I was simply doing.

I needed to cum that night, and it had to be at that moment. I didn't consider any consequences that could come from stroking my cock out in the open in that intersection.

I didn't think at all as I moved into my own headlights, stroking my superheated swollen dick. I just gave in to the moment, to my own urges, and followed my own silent direction.

I was a creature of pure sexual impulse at that moment. I was a slave to my own desire. I was free.

The memory of that night played over in my head a hundred time, and fueled a hundred loads.

"Why did that get me so hard?"

I had to know more. I wanted understanding.

I thought about my actions. I told my self how stupid I had been. I degraded myself. I could have been in so much trouble. I had never had any idea about exhibitionism (a word I never new before this began).

And every time I settled down for a conversation with myself, every time I opened myself for reflection on what I had done, I would feel a little movement down in the pit of my loins.

It would start as a tickle of sorts. Like the sudden physical awareness of my sexuality. I could feel my heartbeat at the base of my cock where my shaft met my balls.

I could feel each pulse of blood as it was diverted to my genitals. My once soft dick quickly raising itself from the top of a thigh like a car being lifted up with a jack.

I'd feel my pulse quicken, my breathing become shallow. My pants would begin to tent in anticipation, my cock swelling... straining against the confines of my clothing.

My "abnormal" behavior seemed to be the fuel that lit my fire. Had I just discovered that I was an exhibitionist? Maybe. What I knew without a trace of doubt though was this; when my cock called to me, I would answer.

It called a lot.

I found myself crashing with a buddy at his family's house uptown one night. It was summer, and we had ball practice early the next morning.

I crashed in their guest bedroom on the second floor. It was a big older home on a main road in our town. The sounds of traffic made it impossible to sleep.

After about 20 minutes of trying to force myself to sleep, I climbed out of bed and walked over to the bedroom window. Red and then green and then red light flooded the room from the stoplight outside. I unlocked the window and opened it wide.

I stood there for a few minuets, taking in the crisp night air. The sound of air brakes releasing filled my ears as the room was awash in green light. Slowly a semi truck crawled through the intersection as it built up speed.

As the driver neared the house, I extend my arm and flew him the bird. I didn't expect that he could see me, until he returned the middle finger as he passed. Whoops.

Without warning, I suddenly felt my shorts start to tighten. My cock bounced to life. I didn't think twice. Fuck, I didn't think once! I just pulled off my shirt and threw it on the bed. I turned back to the open window and started sliding off my shorts. The waistband strained as it got hung up on my granite hard dick.

I kept pulling them down until my cock sprung free, making an audible slapping noise as it smacked against my stomach. I was now standing completely naked in the window.

I walked over to the closet, turned on the closet light, and closed the door all but a crack. I figured there was just enough light to draw attention to my upstairs window.

I calmly walked back to the window while ever so lightly tracing the head of my cock with my fingertips.

When I got into position in front of the window, I freaked. I slid back out of view.

"What the fuck am I doing" I asked myself.

I could hear a car below the window pulling away from the light and into the distance.

As if in silent answer, I slid back in front of the open window. I just stood there naked at full salute. The lights changed again.

I pushed my face against the upper window pane and pushed my torso out the window, my knees braced against the window sill.

My cock ached as though it might burst. My balls hugged my body tightly. I grabbed my cock in one hand and began stroking.

There I was in the middle of the night. My body was naked and excited. I pushed my crotch as far out of the window as I could, like I was trying to fuck the darkness, balls deep.

In 30 seconds time, my balls were crying to launch cum volleys. I heard the engine brake from a big rig as he pulled up to the red light. That sound took me over the edge.

I squeezed my cock as tightly as possible trying to suppress the cum being pumped from my balls.

Green light!

As the big truck (which lit up like a Christmas tree) came into sight, I let out a deep breath, fogging up my view. I couldn't see the driver as they passed me, but I could feel blast after blast of hot white sperm spray down to the sidewalk below.

I had never felt so vulnerable, so naked, yet so powerful. I crossed another line in the sand that night in full view of anybody that happened to look.

I pulled myself back into the room and turned off the light. The last few drops of cum dribbled down onto the carpet. I wiped the sticky tip of my cock against the wallpaper to clean it off. I slid my shorts back on and climbed into bed.

I found a small cum drop on the back of a knuckle and rubbed it into my lips. I was spent!

I don't believe anybody saw me, despite every attempt I made to be seen. It was still my dirty secret, and I liked that.

But I also knew I wanted to be seen. I had no idea how I was going to top this. As it turned out, I did top that display, and it didn't take long.

Boy, did I top it.

Stay tuned...