Lust for One

Sometimes when I'm alone and somewhat idle, surges of lust and desire come over me and cause that little hitch in my breathing. You know the one I'm talking about. I'm all alone, nobody can see me and I can do anything with my tingling body that I want. I walk into the bedroom and make sure the curtains are closed tight. The straining of my growing cock feels good as I walk around the room, looking for objects that will facilitate a deeply sensual exploration of myself.

The mirror is essential for this, as looking at my cock from different angles creates a certain detachment - almost cyber-like! – that yields a positive feedback that almost can't be believed: you enjoy the sight of how it expands, which makes it expand more, which delights you even more incredibly, and on and on.

But that's a bit later. Besides the mirror, I need to find a penetration aid for my asshole, some lube (for that - not for manipulating my cock, I like that "natural"), and some, well, Props.

One of my favorite props is one I'm wearing already: my underpants. I hurriedly - urgently - remove almost all of my clothing, but lingering somewhat to note the feeling of my socks slipping off my feet. The feet can be a particularly sensitive erogenous zone for me. But I leave the jockey-style briefs on. Most typically for me they're briefs: even though sometimes I wear boxers, it's gotta be briefs for this kind of session.

I already mentioned the mirror. It's best if it's a full-length wall mirror. I can then stand in front of it and admire the tremendous bulge that my cock causes as it strains against the briefs, as if to escape of its own volition for the waiting fingers. I tease it by thrusting my hips forward, the material rubbing against the hypersensitive head as it throbs and I adjust its position in its trap through muscle contraction alone. I focus my gaze on the fabric shadow caused by the ridge of its swollen head, knowing that this most sensitive region will soon be caressed and what that means.

Another reason that briefs are great for this is the portal on the front, designed for urination but I don't know anybody who uses it, it being easier to simply stretch the elastic band underneath to pee. I use it for these sessions though. It takes some doing, given the size and position of my cock and my desire to tease it some more by withholding my hand. I stretch the portal away from my body and open it. Now I get my first glimpse of the purple glory of that swelling head, shiny with taut expectation. The veined throbbing shaft. And the coarse black hairs that surround it like nourishing underbrush. It's always a very exciting moment to me, this initial glimpse, still darkened somewhat by the shadow of the underwear still surrounding it.

And ohhhh, the smell of my manhood that now envelops my senses, as if an intentional strategy for the cock to take control of what happens next: solipsistic semi-intellectual admiration giving way to carnal animal desire and a quick stroke-off. It almost succeeds. But the human animal has remarkable powers of reflection and I maintain enough composure to slip the cock through the portal with minimal friction. Now the surprisingly tight portal squeezes the base of my cock almost like a cock ring causing even more expansion. Now the cock is fully illuminated and I'm in complete thrall of the feedback loop mentioned before and the cock and my delight grow to new heights as I admire it. Still no manipulation, my slow languid hip thrusts and sphincter tightening causes the attitude of my erect penis to show me a new angle. The cock throbs and twitches with expectation.

A clear drop of glistening pre-come has been oozing forth throughout this presentation, and its slow drip down the head and onto the floor leaving a viscous trace back to its source forces me to prepare for closer inspection. I remove the briefs and position some cushions on the floor directly in front of the mirror, so I may sit with feet on the wall astride the edges of the mirror, back against a pile of immovable cushions. I'm now able to reach and see both my anal opening as well as my raging erection from its underside.

My face is much closer to my cock now, its scent is now stronger. It looks even larger from this closer perspective. How I wish I could suck on it. But I can taste my pre-come, it fulfills an oral need but only faintly tastes like the scent I eagerly breathe in. I also choose this time to begin some tentative manipulation of the cleft on the underside of the head. I'm instantly rewarded with waves of pleasure that not unexpectedly exceed the high levels achieved so far without my hand. Thus, another feedback loop beginning where the sight of the tip of my index finger slowly moving up and down the cleft seems to direct the next motion as well as the tempo quite involuntarily.

Moving my feet away from the wall and putting them sole-to-sole with my legs in the air seems to complete another nervous pathway that unbelievably heightens the feeling as the blood flow to the midsection is simultaneously increased. Can it swell even bigger? It seems so as my neck crooks to raise my head to survey the whole scene both in the mirror and in front of it. I increase my level of sexual abandon now by beginning to trace around my anal opening with the other index finger. How does this taste? Also like sex. My hips begin to thrust involuntarily as I simultaneously caress these most central zones of erotic bliss.

I reach for the short, rather slender latex penetration device. Only a light lubrication is necessary. As it slips in, a sense of the other takes hold, this delight in penetration. Can this be an approximation? The thought seems attractive. I don't need to thrust it in and out, the feeling of being filled is enough, combined with my still insistent finger contact around the rim.

I realize it won't be long now. I await the ejaculation at a very deep level of want, but also want to keep doing this as long as possible. If I stop I can prolong it. I try this a few times as I feel myself approaching the brink. It works to keep the session going longer than I would imagine. I'm sure I'm moaning and groaning through this phase, but it's the touch, the sight, the taste and smell, but above all the feeling that predominate my very essence now.

After not quite enough (would hours be enough? days?) of this going to the edge and stopping my willpower is essentially gone and I give in to the want.

It's funny how ejaculation can be a good indicator of total sexual abandon. When this is lacking to even a small degree, the forcefulness of the spurts and the volume of fluid are somewhat diminished. Even though the encounter has been totally satisfying and you'd be ecstatic to duplicate it.

But when a session of self-love has gone as well as this one has, ropy jets of milky joy pulsate out of the frenzied cock as the Warmth spreads outward from the loins, asshole contracting against its visitor and raised legs shuddering and going weak. These jets not so much arc as shoot above my head as well as into my face and onto my chest, the shots that go farthest producing a satisfying rhythmic splat onto the floor next to me at a kind of heartbeat-like frequency. The jets that lay unexpectedly forceful stripes across my face emanate a warmth and a new taste and odor that represent satisfaction.

I linger briefly with this immense contentment that's slightly tempered by the lack of another to share this extremely high level of delight with. And realizing that this is different and joyful in its own way.

And that next time the opportunity presents itself, we can think of a new prop to play with.