Dear Faye,
Great topic, and one that should be near and dear to all of our hearts, especially in these trying economic times. Palmela Handerson can be a real recession buster.
The Timing:
As far as getting hot 'n' bothered all of the reasons you mention could do it. The horns can come out anytime, for any reason. But being an ass man, I must say that the hypnotic sway of a backside often starts the little head talking. Sure, a nasty website will do it too, I checked out some of your pictorials once, I believe you were in the yard with your brother and a friend? Yip e yi yay ki oh ki ay. That was some nasty, taboo, erotic action, got the wood up nicely, thank you very much. Sometimes a good review will do it, where the guy has good command of the language, had a great time, and offers some titillating descriptions.
The Tease:
But to pick one scenario, let's consider that hottie at the office, whose derriere is just so fine. You pull at yourself through your slacks and wonder, does she really have to wear those VPL skirts, with her t-back beneath? And the FMPs? Sometimes you swear you can see the faintest outline of garters. *sigh* You feel her breeze past your cube, catch the gentle scent of her perfume, glance furtively at her backside, and suddenly an image jumps into your mind.
The Fantasy:
You on your knees before her at her desk, her skirt hiked up around her waist, g-string pulled aside, knees pulled to her chest, her head thrown back in abandon, you smelling the scent of her exposed ass and pussy, face merely inches away. You gaze lustfully, admiring her dewy, nicely shaven sex, mouth watering, you reach out your tongue, lean your head forward and…
The Reality:
RING, RING! Phone. Jackson from finance on your caller ID, he's been on you about the business case numbers. You're slapped back, staring blankly at the phone, suddenly having pitched a tent in your Dockers. You look down as you wearily lift the receiver, hoping no pre-cum stains made it past your boxers, you frown, no such luck. A cute little dark drop to the right of your fly. You sigh and untuck your shirt; it's been that kind of week.
The Place:
So you've worked up a need, blown your budget for nooners for the month, what's a hard man to do? Well, I try to find an "off peak" hour, head for the restroom, pick the handicap stall (offers a bit more room), drop trou, and take matters into my own hands.
The Prep:
Personally I like to roll some TP off first, keep it handy to clean up the load, that way I'm not having the TP stick all over my hands. You don't want to end up doing the "Christmas Vacation" scene where Chevy Chase can't get the magazine pages off his fingers from the tree sap--same thing can happen with cum and TP. The nice thing about work though, is the TP is a little stiffer. It's the industrial strength stuff and doesn't usually cling to your hands, nor does it leave those irritating little wisps on the end of your cock, the way those plush consumer brands like Charmin do. I hate that. I live in mortal fear of visiting a provider after getting some early relief during the day (perhaps to maintain composure longer during the session?); she unzips my pants, SPROING! And what do you know? A little TP wisp still clings to my shiny crimson cockhead. Blushing, stammering, ummm, sorry! These are pesky, and if allowed to dry, you almost have to scrape them off with a fingernail, it's like paper mache penis.
I also like to unbutton the lower buttons of my shirt, and open it a little in case of a spurt. I'm usually not a shooter when masturbating, but you can't always predict the viscosity, or velocity-- always better to have it hit the abs than muss the shirt.
The Stroke:
When I was kid, I rolled it between my palms, like I was starting a fire. I can clearly remember the day the fire finally was extinguished--much to my surprise, as a I rolled and rolled, I got to that "tickly" feeling, but suddenly, I felt a deeper, far more fulfilling wave of pleasure, and a dollop of white cream from the tip. Boy becomes man.
But these days it’s the flat of the palm along the length of the nerve. Stroking top to bottom, glans down to balls, Weak hand usually just for guidance, strong hand working it. No lube, especially not at work, but not even usually at home, I prefer natural. Not a fist, not a ring, just a flat palm, and long, slow strokes. Sometimes a finger in the ass, and sniff it a little. Something about the musky scent of ass, even my own, can make it rigid. I imagine it's the ass of that hottie at the office, my nose buried in her rosebud as my tongue delves into her pussy, locked in a sizzling 69. Maybe tease the nipples a touch with the off hand. Usually doesn't take long, 2-3 minutes, nothing too elaborate at work.
The Finish:
The moment, how to describe it? Going over the edge? Waves of pleasure? Release of tension? The culmination of the daydream? Scratching the itch? Words can't really capture it, choose whatever suits you. But when masturbating, I find the orgasm good, but it always is a bit less, always more of a transient, temporary satisfaction, it lacks the power, the depth, as if the body knows that this is just a stop gap measure to tide you over until the real thing.
The Wrap up:
Again, depending on viscosity and velocity, I usually end up with the bulk of the semen on the thumb and back of the hand, or perhaps a bit of splash up onto the abs and yum yum trail. Usually I'm pushing back a bit on the toilet, and you want to avoid any sperm dropping down into the boxers at your feet. Pulling the boxers back on with a cold wet spot on your butt cheek is a drag.
Have fun, stay safe, and leave the lights ON!!
iceman
