"Oh The Pain!"

Dedicated to that wondrous male-morning-phenomenon, the piss-proud-penis.

by Julius
copyright January 2009




Sometimes, like most men he guessed, Bob woke with a hard-on, like this morning. It was a beaut, or at least it seemed so to him.

A raging, hot creature that seemed as pleased to see him, as he was to see it. He grabbed it and squeezed. Hot it was and hard too.

The screaming pleading of his bladder would have to wait a while. Wait at least until he’d savoured the moment. He stroked his fist along his cock, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes, just plain enjoying himself.

‘God, he needed a leak!’ The morning erection was the sweet accompaniment to this urgent, other need. His hips thrust slowly, fucking his fist.

He couldn’t lie there much longer; he had to go, had to. But the bed was warm and the bathroom cold. If he relieved himself his stiffie would be gone, its pleasure lost. He lingered, not masturbating, he told himself, just enjoying.

Skin dragged skin. He needed lubrication. The precum was there but it wouldn’t coat cock and palm. In his mind’s eye he could see the bottle of lube on her night table. Pleasure oil, that was what Sue called it.

He could use some pleasure oil! A great palm-full of the stuff to make his fist into a loving pussy. God but he was hard! He squeezed his cock-head until it hurt. He needed to come. He needed a leak. He heard himself moan.

Sue stirred and rolled towards him. Her hand wandered, touched his cock. “Mmm, look what I found.”

Bob’s hand yielded possession to hers. “Is this for me?” she asked, her voice full of laughter.

“It might be if I didn’t need to pee so bad.”

“Can’t pee with an erection, everybody knows that,” she told him. “Besides, if I squeeze him tight, he can’t go.” With that she squeezed and he felt the pain and pleasure of her small hand gripping the head of his cock.

“Ow, that hurts.”

She changed hands deftly and he could feel and hear her reaching for the lubricant.

“I don’t think I can hold on honey; I really have to go.”

“So do I, so do I, bad, bad, bad,” she said and released him.

Her need to go always turned him on. She knew it and often played on that quirk of his nature.

He heard the squirt from the lube bottle and squirmed in anticipation. God but he was going to wet himself if he didn’t go soon. There was pain now, real pain. But he and his cock wanted her hand too.

She found him again. Her small fingers closed round his waiting penis. Oh bliss. She squeezed and slowly stroked. He thrust like a nervous boy, fucking the hand that pumped him.

Her hand, silky and slick with the lube, drew him onward. The pain from his near bursting bladder backed off a little. But even the pain added to his focus on his cock, his aching, eager cock.

The sudden boil in his groin, the first warning of his climax made him beg her to stop. He wanted to come but he wanted to wait. Not yet, not yet, not just yet, soon, soon, not yet. Her hand stilled and the flood paused somehow at the root of his cock. Paused, while his erection pulsed in the curl of her fingers. One squeeze would trigger him. He knew it. She knew it.

Would she roll over so they could be spoons, offering him her sweet pussy? Or, would she hand-fuck him, empty him with her clever, milking fingers?

He groaned, the need-to-pee surged again, unbearable. He tensed and she giggled.

Her hand began to move. She breathed the words, “My baby’s going to come, he’s going to come before he goes.”

She stroked, slow and firm, the full length of him, root to tip, tip to root. With each slide of her hand she said, “Come before he goes.”

He couldn’t last. He didn’t last. She sensed the moment, felt his first spasm, the first boiling rush through his cock and she said, one last time, “Come before he goes.”