By Myself

The hard flesh is in my hand. I feel the soft skin slide back and forth over the hard muscled beneath.  I watch and feel as I pull back and forth over my pulsing cock.  I look in the full length mirror in front of me and watch as I slowly jack my dick.  I enjoy watching, I love the feeling.  I lightly move the skin up and down the hard length then I squeeze the base tightly.  I use my other hand to stroke my balls.  With one hand I hold the head of my cock while the other grasps the base of my shaft and my balls together, stroking up and over them, then back down.  I hold the base of my cock below my balls with one hand while sliding the other up and down my shaft.  I lean forward and spit on my shaft, the lube allowing me to slide more easily.  I slide my hand up over the head then back down, simulating entering a wight wet cunt. I watch my cock, then watch the mirror.  Back and forth while my hands slide up and down.  I feel a stirring in my balls and I squeeze my dick harder.  I walk away from the mirror and lay back on the bed.  I thrust my hips upward into my hand.  My eyes clothes as I wrap both hands around my cock and begin pumping into them.  Faster and faster, I can feel my eruption building.  I groan deep in my throat as I begin to cum.  I pump on, squeezing my shaft and groaning again.  My slippery white cum bursts from the tip and then pours over my hand.  I use it to lube my cock some more and continue to pump.  I want it again.  I can not normally go straight on and normally loose interest but today I need more.  I pump myself some more as I deflate and then begin to stiffen once more.
Since I can not have what I really need I will pump every drop out that I can manage.

Waves at the Party

After the noise of the party this room is quiet; quiet enough that I can hear the sheets move as she settles herself on the bed.  The room is small, the size and darkness closes us in and we are cradled in our own warm space.  I do not know her but here she is naked and waiting for me.  I remove the last of my clothing and settle into the sheets next to her.  The feel of her body touching mine is a relief that courses through me, removing the anxiety and frustration.  Her arms curl around me and I take her into my arms.  We kiss; her lips are silkily delicious.  I take my time, tasting her, savoring her delicious bouquet.  My hand tours her soft body; her delicate curves, delighting in her supple flesh.  I feel her every movement and hear her every sigh.  I engulf her with my meditation; my entire being focused on her.  I feel her presence with my mind as well as my body.  I touch her with thought as well as hand.  I am completely aware of her. I can feel what she feels. I know how my caresses thrill her, where to slide my hand next.  Our movements have become a symphony as we begin to compose something so beautiful and yet fleeting; each moment building on the creation of the previous. 

I pull her against me as I enter her.  She leans her head back and moans. I lean my head forward and bite her tender neck; devouring her, gorging on her delicate shivers of hedonistic indulgence.  Our bodies are flat against one another; my arms along her sides and my hands on the back of her shoulders, pulling her into me as I roll my hips into her.  I can sense the tide of fervor within her; our rhythms slightly different.  I alter my breathing, matching hers.  I can feel the swells of my pleasure harmonize with hers.  I discern our path. I can anticipate the progress. I can choose a more leisurely path, taking us on twists and turns; no interest in rushing to the end. 

I am washed away on a new feeling.  Her passion pours into me and I feel my dam break.  For the first time I am lost in rapture.  For the first time I let go of my defenses; all control is lost, I go where the tides take me.  I feel her hold onto me, we drift along together.  I am within her, sliding in and out, engulfed in her feminine hold.  I do not know where I am but neither do I care.  I bask in the erotic flood, no longer caring for anything else.

Eventually I come back to myself.   I feel her in my arms, I hold her close and revel in the glow.

Another Quandary

Where has the thrill gone? I normally get such a salacious charge out of writing fantasies but for a couple of weeks now it has not been the case. I feel apathy for imaginings. I am bored with stories, pictures and movies. I assume what I need is reality; an actual encounter but I suppose that is true for many of us.
So, how do I get the stimulation back? Where is the muse to draw out my passions?