Dotting the “I” in bi

But I’d have the blue balls all evening unless I did, so before turning into my own street, I shot in a back alley, drove about a hundred meters to where there was a depression in the thicket lining the back sides of the gardens of my street, and jumped off my bike. I struggled with my zip. It seemed I had lost all feeling in my fingers. By now the pain was becoming almost unbearable. I finally managed to free my cock and balls, and gingerly started stroking. My nuts felt like they had been hit by a hammer.

This was purely a technical intervention. Nothing erotic about it, my mind was blank. None of the images that had followed me home were here now, and I didn’t need them. My dick was harder than ever before, and in less than a minute of frantic jacking off, my overheated balls pumped their load through my sore shaft. Not the impressive fountain I had expected. Hardly a trickle, a few hesitant rivulets of opaque sludge, but it did bring some immediate relief from the torture between my legs.