This is an email I sent to a friend after he was unable to meet me for sex. I enjoyed writing it and he enjoyed reading it, so I thought I'd share it more widely. It's a true account...
I got in from the office about 7pm, and changed into my black lycra running shorts and a thin black lycra vest - it doesn't look that great on me now, but I'm training for the New York Marathon and so it should look better on me as the months go past. I went down to the gym in the hotel, stepped on a treadmill, set my iPod to shuffle, cranked the speed up to 6mph, and ran for three miles. As usual, the talent in the hotel gym was minimal, and I wasn't distracted from my run.
I skipped the locker room (tempted though I was, as I usually am, to see if there was anyone interesting in the showers) and headed back up to my room. I was hot and sweaty. Nice, fresh, manly sweat. The scent of honest exercise. I felt energised. I was physically tired, but I felt emotionally good.
I got into my room and collapsed on the bed. For a while I just lay there, making myself aware of my body, thinking about the muscles that were tired and might ache tomorrow, feeling the sweat trickle in the small of my back. I started thinking about masculinity, the male body, and one in particular, and I started to get aroused.
I thought about a man lying next to me, inhaling my scent, enjoying the look of my body. My cock started to thicken, and my breathing became more shallow. I ran my hands over my torso, imagining they were yours, and could feel the urgency with which you needed to handle my body. My hands slid lower and I could feel my hardness through my thin shorts. I slid my hand along my shaft and could feel the head of my dick starting to poke through my foreskin.
I could feel some dampness beginning to leak from the end of my dick. I looked down and saw the lycra-encased bulge standing proud in my shorts. It was time to let it free.
I slipped off my shirt and stood up from the bed to take my shorts off. I admired myself in the mirror and the bulge within my trunks. I imagined you standing behind me, running your hands over my torso, feeling my legs through my shorts, stroking my dick through the fabric.
I undid the tie at the top of my shorts and slid them down. My dick sprang free, hard and red, moist at the end, begging for attention.
I lay back on the bed and imagined you beside me, on top of me, touching me everywhere. I thought about what your dick would taste like and imagined your manly scent. I grabbed my dick and slid the foreskin slowly forward and back over the head.
I could feel my excitement rising but I didn't want to cum too soon. I'd wanked without cumming for three days and I didn't want to waste this ejaculation. I rolled over face down on the bed and started thrusting gently against the duvet. I could feel the head of my dick rubbing against a fold in the sheets. It felt so good. I raised my ass as if to give you access to it and thought about what it would be like to feel you there between my cheeks. I was really close but I still didn't want to cum yet.
I rolled back onto my front and my dick was dripping precum. It felt so sensitive I didn't know how much longer I could last. I licked my finger and ran it around my balls, which had pulled up tight against my body, ready to blow. I started rubbing below my balls, feeling that sensitive area, imagining it was your tongue. My hand slipped lower and I started playing with my asshole. It's tight, not much goes up there, but a combination of my arousal and copious amounts of saliva meant that the tip of my index finger slipped in and I started sliding it in further.
At this point my head was reeling with arousal. I was so massively turned on but I still knew that it would have been so much better with someone else there. I couldn't stand the excitement any more and I knew it was time to let it blow.
My finger was still in my ass so I used my other hand to jerk with. That was good, it felt unusual so it almost felt like it could be someone else. I closed my eyes and imagined what you looked like in your moment of esctasy, another manly man at his most vulnerable time, masculine yet utterly open to anything. My body shuddered and I came, five, six times. My pent-up frustration smeared over my belly. The cum was thick, creamy. It didn't squirt far but there was loads of it. Some of it clung to my body hair, some of it stuck to my belly.
I must have lain there for five minutes, catching my breath. If every act of masturbation was so good I'd never need another partner. I smeared my cum over myself, savouring the scent and the texture, and imagining it was yours.
Eventually I started to feel cold and I thought I had better get dressed again. I like the smell of dried cum so I didn't wash myself down. I'm sure the cleaning staff are used to the smell of stale cum and I was going to shower in the morning before going to work anyway. I pulled on my jeans without any underwear and grabbed a dirty t-shirt to pull over my head.
I grabbed a beer from the minibar to slake my thirst. I should have been rehydrating with water, but I wasn't in the mood. I phoned down to room service to order a burger to have in my room and switched on American Idol. When my food arrived, I wondered if the delivery guy could smell the cum in my room.
I went to bed around 10. My cock was hard again thinking about you and thinking about jerking off that evening. I had a short, perfunctory wank which helped to release my tension and fell asleep.