And That Guy

You have seen him.

You know.

Him.

Him.

That guy.

That guy that catches your attention, unexpectedly, and you linger on in your gaze of him but then you catch yourself and you have to look away before you are recognized doing it.

But his image cements itself into your brain. There it has a permanent file made in your brain, of that guy, that wonderful beautiful specimen. The file is aptly named and labeled, ‘Damn! Damn! He is fine.’ You do not want to forget him nor do you think you will.

It is then, in that same instant that the cock in your pants, stirs and reacts.

Your hand, or maybe, both of them, goes there, heading southward, to that wonderful area between your legs and fondles the hell out of the throbbing bulge that materializes there when you remember him in your thoughts.

Your temperature rises as all this happens.

You remember looking at his crotch. Yep, you are one of those, you are a crotch watcher. But ain’t all guys? Think? Aren’t they? Whether they want to acknowledge it or not.

What was he packing?

How big did he appear to be?

Was he cut or uncut?

Was he shaved or unshaved or does he leave his cock and balls like you do? All these questions happen at a rabid pace as they filter in. Yeah, rabid as it is sheer madness for you when you see him. You are as some giddy schoolgirl set free on his first date.

All these questions meander through your addled brain, your lust consumed brain.

Where you saw him also plays a part in whether these questions are answered.

Was it at the gym? Or across the conference table? Or on the street or in a restaurant?

It could have been in a myriad of locations but what matters is that you saw him.

If it is at the gym, what do you do?

Do you take a peek? Or do you do more?

How do you hide that hard-on that magically appears when you see him? Or do you thrust out those hips and show off what you have? Those hips, those thighs of yours built up from your own fucking. Those countless years of pleasure derived from your cock plunging into some ready and willing hole.

This makes you even harder, his image, and your own prowess between the sheets fuels this desire. They work together like some well-oiled machine as your cock ekes out some of its magic juice. You stand taller; you smile bigger, because of that guy.

What does he look like?

Only you know that.

Is he blonde haired or one of those tall dark and handsome ones.

Maybe, he is exotic; maybe he is that clerk in the store or that guy that gets you, your coffee every morning as you stand in line.

Maybe it is more than just that one type, maybe it is more, you are not even sure what it is, but that guy stirs you every time you see him.

That twitching in your pants is that signal.

You know what you do when you see him, if you can.

You want to take out your cock and bust out a load because you know if you don’t, you are gonna have one hell of a wet milky stain in your pants.

So you do.

You find some spot, to take out your cock in private or not.

You find that place and you let that ‘feeling’ overtake you and nothing is gonna stop you until that load is lost and your balls are emptied.

That is what that guy does to you, whenever you see him.

You admire that tool between your legs.

Is he as big as I am? Or is he smaller?

It does not matter but the thrill is finding out is what you have imagined is true or not.

Just reading this ignites some buried image in your brain of that guy.

You want to remember what you have seen or have not seen.

Have you found that spot?

Is your cock out, right now?

It is. Good.

Let your hand glide up and down.

Yeah.

Yeah.

That’s it.

Now smell your hand, yeah, there is that smell, that smell is you.

Keep thinking about him.

That guy.

That guy that you want so much.

Keep stroking.

Now bust that nut and remember ‘that guy.’

Oops, your cock is hard, again.