20 November 2020

The Late Night Rush Hour

It was past midnight and like any other night; I sat reading in my house. Facing the wall, sitting on my sanduk with a clipboard on my lap, I sat there trying to ingest whatever it was written in the book I was holding. All around me there were my classmate and juniors in their deep sleep. The winter that was set in was demanding some warmth from within me and it was almost time by then- I was seventeen- to give away myself to the hormones that were agitating inside me.

It surely wasn’t the first time I was sensing the poke of my beak. I knew its sensitivity but I had never really paid it any attention. I knew this word hasta maithuna from the adult books I had read. Which is a Kannada word for masturbation. I knew what it meant and what will be the resultant. But I hadn’t really had given it any thought until now.

The clipboard that was on my thigh had acted on the sensitivity of my thing. When I became conscious about it I deliberately started pressing it against my beak. It felt good. I could feel it stiffen against the fiber of my underwear; sending slight tremors around my body. I did it often while I turned the pages of my book. It was a novel relieving feel.

Then I turned around my head to check if someone was awake. Everyone was fast asleep. Then I wanted to explore this fantastic pleasure. Surreptitiously I pulled it out from the side of the shorts I was wearing. For my surprise, it wasn’t dark as it usually did. It had a light complexion, the color of my palms to be precise. I could see faint bluish-green veins through the foreskin. Which suddenly reminded me of what biology teacher had said, “Erection is due to rush of blood to the spongy tissue penis contains”. Then, I held it in my hand, pressed it gently. Good heavens! It felt awesome.

Now things were in a flow. Just like that, I was sliding it back and forth which enlarged it further. The tiny little dark thumb-like projection had stood up in an obtuse angle. All fluffy, tight and handful. My whole body had its center of gravity shifted at my shank. Now and then watching around for random eyesights that might put me in an embarrassment, I played with my shaft; as it was assuring a kind of salvation at that moment.

After a while of playing with it, I felt it might throw up. It felt like a strong urge to urinate like urine is pushing from inside. Not that I was that naive. I had heard and studied about the semen that comes out. But had never seen it. For that time I suppose I had only urine in my mind.

Before I spilled it all around my place. I covered it partially by the seam of my short and walked to the toilet. I stood there shaking it in its full glory, occasionally watching how it behaved. Each stroke added some extra pleasure which pushed me to shake it more rigorously. The moment was intense, heated. I was going into a kind of trance. While there was a strong push from within and my eyes were squinting, I was like ahhhh! The ooze came out. It was whitish sputum like. After the throw-up, I was out of the trance that had engulfed me for a very brief time. I was back to the drab reality of standing in the toilet. Then it started to shrink in a relaxed manner.

When I was back, I was exhausted a little and sleepy. The thing that started that day remains an addiction till date on daily basis. Sometimes acts as a sleeping pill.

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