Masturbari Interruptus

I don’t know if my Latin is correct; if I were to guess I’d say that it’s probably not.

Let me set the scene for you:

I’m in the home office, dressed in a regular pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I worked from home today, but the working day is done and now I’m scrolling through my Smutty feed, “liking” things I like, keeping track of videos I might want to watch (and maybe post) at a future date, not really doing anything special.

Of course, as I go I can feel the gradual thickening of my cock inside my pants. I feel the heat of it against my leg. Eventually, before things get uncomfortable, I open my jeans and let it grow as it wishes out the top of my boxers.

Before too long I’m getting more active than passive. When I see an especially erotic photo I might reach down to nuzzle the head with a finger, being careful to avoid getting precum on my finger, so that I don’t get it all over my mouse or laptop (or using a different finger).

I graduate to tenting my fingers to stroke the head. I graduate further to taking the shaft in my hand, in the classic masturbatory grip, feeling the heat and the heft in my hand. Not yet actually stroking or masturbating, just occasionally gripping myself; adding tactile sensation to my visual enjoyment.

Soon I’ll probably pull up a video and bring this gradual buildup to its logical conclusion. Stroking myself, feeling the length and girth of myself, until a hot, sticky stream is unleashed. With this slow build up I imagine that a lot will be produced; I might need to plan for that.

But before that can happen, I hear my wife’s voice from downstairs, calling to me. Apparently I have chores to perform. That stream will need to wait.

Goddamit.