"Uhhh," he twists, turns and moans in his fitful sleep, groaning as he slowly awakens from the night's erratic slumber.
His sweat soaks through the cotton sheets from his spastic somatic sleep, fighting his nightly battle with the angry sandman, as he does not want to awaken to the new day and the reality that comes with it.
He rolls over on his back, bringing his hands through his sleep tussled hair, as the last whispers of his drowsiness begins to part from his almost-rested body.
The thin flimsy cotton sheet begins to tent from his early morning hardened erect member. Its prize is hidden under the obvious rise of the bed linens, as he slowly awakens, on his back. He is still snoozing, still dreaming of the 'almost' fuck he had a chance of conquering last night from the bar.
He smoozed.
He complimented.
He smiled.
He worked his masculine wiles on his intended prey.
Nevertheless, it did not play out as he had hoped or had longed for it to be and sought after. He did not get a phone number, not even an invitation back to the object of the night's lustful affections apartment.
What he got was a frightening case of 'blue balls'.
He was played.
He lost money from the many bought drinks.
Eye contact between the two of them played out over the course of the many hours before he decided to approach the person.
A wink here.
A subtle glance.
A nod.
Alluring longing exchanges happened between the two over the wide expansive crowded room.
He finally approached, after many glasses of alcohol-fueled drinks of courage egged him on.
They talked.
He charmed or tried to.
He bought more drinks for the both of them.
They talked some more.
He attempted to charm, some more.
He reaches under his sheets, feeling his engorged cock grow as it strains from the hormonal and testosterone-laden overload along with his pent-up intense desires. He feels the cum ooze from his cock, ever so slow and gentle, like a leaking spigot with a busted plastic washer, in need of a much-needed repair. He spreads the pre-cum over the swelled head of his manhood.
This action makes his cock grow even harder, ever stiffer, as he spreads the cream over his crown.
The pressure of his morning hard-on is intense, slightly painful, but he is proud of this pain.
It feels good.
He brings his pre-cum soaked fingers to his nose, breathing in the essence of his manhood, his virility.
He smells...himself.
A strong masculine musky scent that is sweetly fragrant in its aroma, his cock gets even harder.
