There’s something erotically arousing about watching a man go to town on themselves. Being a voyeur to his alone time.

Because I want to see it all. Him naked and alone on the bed, maybe a phone in hand with his choice of filth flicking across the screen. Him scrubbing to the “best bits”. Or maybe him fantasising. Seeing his eyes darting erratically as he scans through his memories for something hot to come to.

His wrist action. How his hand instinctually wraps itself around the shaft with a loose but firm grip. A practised ease in the movements. The head of his cock disappearing and reappearing out through the top of his fist as he slides his hand up an down, expertly but not thinking about it in the slightest.

I want to see his stomach tense as he nears the end. His balls jiggling from the movement. The way his breathing hastens, sharp inhalations and paused breaths. The telling signs that he’s coming close.

But the best part, the most important part, is to see his face. That split second when he’s pushed himself over the edge. That moment in time between when he feels the release and when the results of his labour are shown in thick spurts across his stomach. Because that’s where the money is.

Release, satisfaction and sexual gratification, all at his own hand.

Odpowiedz

Thanks for the invite!

Odpowiedz