The joy of not having sex
posted by sooyup
on
Daily trivia
An erection doesn’t always have to be a means to an end. It can be a pleasure in itself. Often when sitting alongside Emma watching television, I let my mind wander, and I find myself nursing a powerful erection. Sometimes, the cause is what you see here - the inviting shape of Emma’s tits under her sweater. Or it might be the absent-minded stroking of her bare thigh - she often sits with her legs across mine. It is very seldom prompted by what is on the screen. Whatever the stimulus, a surreptitious rearrangement of tackle avoids the bell-tent affect which would draw attention to my state. Even the colourful spectacle of Come Dancing would not prevent Emma from making use of it if she noticed the tell-tale bulge of an erection, or if I were to make the first move. Instead, I sit there with my eyes closed, concentrating on the exquisite rubbing of rough cloth on tender flesh as my cock throbs and twitches of its own accord. Sweet agony.
An erection doesn’t always have to be a means to an end. It can be a pleasure in itself. Often when sitting alongside Emma watching television, I let my mind wander, and I find myself nursing a powerful erection. Sometimes, the cause is what you see here - the inviting shape of Emma’s tits under her sweater. Or it might be the absent-minded stroking of her bare thigh - she often sits with her legs across mine. It is very seldom prompted by what is on the screen. Whatever the stimulus, a surreptitious rearrangement of tackle avoids the bell-tent affect which would draw attention to my state. Even the colourful spectacle of Come Dancing would not prevent Emma from making use of it if she noticed the tell-tale bulge of an erection, or if I were to make the first move. Instead, I sit there with my eyes closed, concentrating on the exquisite rubbing of rough cloth on tender flesh as my cock throbs and twitches of its own accord. Sweet agony. 
