Neither the time nor the place

It wasn’t my bed.
It wasn’t the time of night to be awake.
It wasn’t an ordinary erection.

It was the sort of boner that I get once we every few months. The sort that is hard as granite. Completely inflexible. Solid like a cheap 1980’s vibrator.

Turgid almost to the point of discomfort. One that has needs all of its own. It has a drive to be driven deep, relentlessly and repeatedly rammed into a cunt that is as hot, engorged and eager as it is.

As I lay awake in the bed of our holiday let, my hand instinctively grasped it. So rigid was it that even before I touched it, my foreskin was already fully pulled back and my entire length was slick with pre-cum. As my sleep addled brain prepared to engage my wrist in a vigorous thrashing I gripped it and started to stroke … and then I remembered I was not alone in that bed. If I were to give my cock the attention required to satisfy it, it would be impossible not to wake Her.

I rolled over, crushed my wanton member into the mattress, and yearned for sleep.

5 Responses to “Neither the time nor the place”

  1. Why would it have been bad waking her? Either she could have helped you, or at least known that you had such a boner that you had to do something about it…

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