Carter
Six weeks to go…
I stand in my kitchen and mark off the big square on the calendar I purchased. The thing takes up half the wall, but I don’t care. I need a very visual reminder that I don’t have much longer. That the end is near. The light at the end of the tunnel does, in fact, exist.
Because this has been one of the hardest fucking weeks of my life. I think I’m losing my mind. The lack of sex has finally gotten to me. Everyone warned me about it. It’s not right, they said. It’s not healthy, they warned. A young and virile man like me should be getting pussy every night of the week. You’ll live to regret it, some cautioned.
I’m starting to believe it. I think I’m on a downward spiral to crazytown. Just the mere thought of Ashley and her rocking body is driving me out of my mind. I’m hard twenty-four seven. That can’t be good, can it? I’m starting to worry that the lack of blood to anywhere else in my body but my cock might have some long-term effects.
Ashley just laughs when I tell her this. She thinks I’m making a bigger deal of it than it is.
But I know better. And I know she knows better too. I can see it in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking. It’s making her crazy too. She’s doing her best not to tempt me, but if just the thought of her has me hornier than a pubescent boy, the sight of her is a million times worse. Six weeks. I can do this. Six weeks.
Five weeks to go…
I walk into my bathroom in a sleepy haze. And instantly regret it. Fucking hell.
There’s Ashley in my shower, cleaning up after I just went down on her for what feels like the hundredth time in two weeks. Not that I’m complaining. I’m not going to let my woman suffer just because I have to. No, I pleasure her as much as she wants, and then some. Even if my cock does feel like it might fall off from neglect and lack of use.
I can just read the epitaph now.
Here lies Carter Blaine. Gone too soon. He died a virgin, after withering away from lack of orgasms.
Wouldn’t Lola feel like a real bitch then? I laugh bitterly. Probably not. She’d probably just be glad to not have to pay me my two billion dollars.
“Carter, you okay, baby?” Ashley’s voice startles me from my sadistic fantasy. I almost wish it hadn’t, because now my focus is back on her and her totally fuckable body standing naked in my bathroom, her eyes wide with concern. But I barely notice her eyes. All I see are two gorgeous tits, nipples fully erect as she stares at my equally erect cock, now practically dripping with cum. I swear, I’m probably going to revert to adolescence here soon and start having wet dreams if I don’t get off soon.
I feel my cock twitch as I imagining coming all over her tits. With a sound that borders on being a little unhinged, I leave the bathroom and Ashley’s gorgeous tits. Five weeks. I can do this. Five weeks.
Four weeks to go…
I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.
“Carter? Baby? Are you okay?” Ashley’s concerned voice brings me back to reality.
“It’s okay,” I mumble, rolling over in the bed and burying my head under my pillow. I love having her in my bed, but it’s a slow form of torture. Forget waterboarding. Those fuckers have no idea. Just stick them in bed with a woman as hot as my girl, then tell them they can’t do anything about it. That’s the way to punish someone.
God, that dream. I swear I thought it was real. It felt so real. In it, I was fucking Ashley. Hard. Rough. Bareback. Right in her sweet, tight little pussy. It was heaven. It was everything.
And then I fucking woke up.
Four weeks. Then she’s all mine. I can do this. Four weeks.
Three weeks to go…
“Carter, baby,” Ashley says, her sweet voice making me ache for her. That’s all it takes anymore. The end is so near I can practically taste it. Or is that the taste of her juices still lingering on my lips? I don’t know anymore. I’m half mad at this point. I look up at the giant wall calendar, just to make sure more time hasn’t passed and I’ve missed it. But nope. Still three weeks to go.
“Carter?” Ash repeats, her voice more urgent this time. “I just realized something.”
She sounds excited, and when I look over at her as we relax on the couch, I see a sparkle in her eyes. She has an idea. I can tell.
“What is it, angel?” I ask, pulling her against me on the couch, my cock pressing into her hip. It’s like a constant companion these days, always hard, always dripping, always begging for attention it just can’t get.
“I think we’ve overlooked something vital,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. “You know how you can give me head, as long as I don’t give it to you?”
I nod, not sure where she’s going with this.
“Well, I know you can’t jerk yourself off, but no one said anything about me doing it.”
I sit up straight as her words register. What? How could we have been so stupid? I’ve been suffering for almost a month, and here is a perfect solution staring us right in the face. Much like my cock that’s pointing right at Ash this very minute.
A handjob. Hello. And yes, please.
Before I can even say anything, Ashley has her soft hands wrapped around my cock, stroking up and down in a way that feels so amazingly perfect that it almost hurts. Or maybe that’s just the backup of cum just waiting to be released.
“Oh, fuck, Ash,” I moan as she continues to work my cock over. I see her lick her lips, and I know she wants a mouthful, but we can’t. Not yet. But this—this is heaven right here. Having my angel’s hand on my cock, the other dropping down to cup my balls.
I glance up to the cameras that are installed in my apartment and give one a triumphant grin, lifting both hands to flip it the bird—a giant fuck you to Lola and anyone else who made me suffer all this time.
And, oh fuck, I’m so close. I’m about to explode everywhere.
“I’m going to catch it in my mouth, Carter,” Ashley says, breathless, her eyes so dark with desire they look almost black. I love that she’s getting off on doing this to me. And the words she just said have my balls tightening, my release treating to burst for at any second. Fuck, how did I get so lucky to find a woman like her?
Then, just as I feel the orgasm taking hold, the door to my apartment bursts open and Chase rushes in. Ashley’s eyes go wide, and she strokes harder, faster, intent on getting me off before Chase delivers what’s sure to be devastating news. If he’s going to blow this all to hell, I’m going to blow first.
Right as he reaches the couch, a loud “Nooooooo” falling from his lips, my orgasm rips through me. Huge, hot white jets of cum fly from my cock in giant spurts, every pulse of my release shooting my cum higher and higher. Two feet in the air, three feet, four feet, then—splat. Chase gets a full on facial, my cum shooting him right in the face.
He stops, his mouth agape as he stares in horror at me. Then he grits his teeth and delivers the message he was sent to give me, his eyes blazing.
“No. More. Hand jobs.”
Talk about shooting the messenger.
Three more weeks. I’ve got this, even without any more hand jobs because that was just the most fucking awesome hand job in the history of hand jobs. I can do this. Three weeks.