Day 13

It’s Friday 8^th March. Day 13.

Time since my last orgasm? 12 days and approximately 20 hours. That’s over 300 hours in total. Somewhere north of 18,000 minutes.

Time till my next one? If all goes to plan, eight days and approximately 1.5 hours. That’s under 200 hours in total. A mere 11,610 minutes.

The end may not be in sight, but it’s certainly getting closer.

And yes, in all senses this has been hard. Not just because of the teasing, the edging, and the regular penetrative sex without release, but because it’s always been there, right there, in the back of my brain, periodically reminding me what I’m missing and how easy it would be to give in…

Every time I reach down and casually brush a thumb over my cock – through suit trousers, jeans, or just my boxers – I’m conscious of how…ripe everything down there is right now. How fat and heavy my balls are getting, day by day. The spongy, almost puffy feel to my cock, even when it’s soft, as if it’s in a permanent state of semi-arousal.

Of course when it’s hard, there’s nothing spongy about it whatsoever. I’m pretty sure you could cut glass with my dick at the moment, and certainly I’m in danger of severely embarrassing myself in public at least a half-dozen times each day, thanks to erections that are borderline obscene even through a couple of layers of clothing. What they’ll be like this time next week is anyone’s guess.

It’s not only my body that’s been affected by the near-fortnight of denial. I’ve observed this effect before, but it’s still disconcerting to find my thoughts and fantasies consumed by absolute filth at the slightest provocation. I saw this sketch on Twitter the other day, for example, and since then have been scrolling through so many variations on the basic pegging scenario that I get a bit dizzy trying to recall them all now…

Full submission through to a back-and-forth tussle for control. A tender, intimate exploration at the hands of someone happy to take me slowly, through to a vigorous dicking down from a dominant woman who knows how to get exactly what she wants – and to push at a few of my boundaries in the process. Comfortable, average-sized toys. Eye-wateringly large dildos that I very quickly learn to love. Strap-on sex where I absolutely can’t come, strap-on sex where I absolutely have to come – over and over again – and strap-on sex where I’m told to make someone else come as she’s fucking me.

That moment when she’s worked the first couple of inches inside me, but it’s still an almost painfully tight squeeze, then suddenly something gives way and the rest of the dildo fills my ass with almost no resistance whatsoever…

Experienced hands on my hips, working me back and forth. Bare breasts and strong legs that I can feel flexing with each thrust. Words designed to encourage or provoke. A soft, slick hand wrapped round my cock, stroking up and down till I can’t take any more.

All that just from one tweet!

There have been plenty of other tweets too. And sexy stories. And comments from friends. And even just things I’ve seen on TV or on advertising billboards in the street. Inspiration is everywhere, especially to a man who is currently somewhat prone to being inspired.

Group sex is the worst right now. Or the best, depending on how you look at it. Anything that even hints at threesomes or foursomes, gang-bangs or orgies, immediately grabs my attention, and off I go. Likewise anything performative or public. Maybe I’ll share some of those scenarios too, when I next post a status update…

Or maybe I’ll tell you exactly what I’d like someone to do with my thick, straining cock as it pokes through the button fly of my jeans.

Because with eight days and two hours to go, I am one big horny mess – and it’s fair to say that things are only likely to get worse from here.