Corporate Frustration 02

Thomas was in deep shit. Against all odds, he'd made it out of his yesterday's misadventure of boning up at the office undetected. A huge feat, considering the all-out rut he'd got into against his desk at the end, knocking over pens and papers as he'd slammed his hips into his desk. Sure, he'd had to leave work late that day to make sure his subordinates didn't see the huge cum stain on his navy slacks. And sure, he'd had to sacrifice his jacket to cover his lap on the bus ride home. And sure, his brother has given him a strange look when he hurried from the front door of his apartment straight to his bedroom, hands covering his soaked crotch like an ashamed teen. But he had made it, and no one had called him out, and his dick had seemed satisfied for the rest of that night. He'd even resolved to make sure to give his dick the attention it obviously needed when he got home later tonight. He would make time for it. Really take his time with it. He'd learned his lesson. He would never again let his hectic life keep him from a little regular self indulgence.

His dick, apparently, had other plans. And so he was in deep shit. He had made it through most of Friday. It was 3:45. An hour and fifteen minutes until he was set to go home. He was once again clicking aimlessly on his computer, browsing forums and trying to appear busy, in case anyone happened to walk past his windowed office door and peek in. In the back of his mind, he was even already making plans for when he got home. His brother was on an extended visit in his apartment, which would present some complications, but maybe if Thomas said he wasn't feeling well he could lock himself in his bedroom and...

He shook his head. It was a good plan, but not something he should think about at work. He clicked through a few more of his usual pages, bored with what was on offer. His dick, just like the day before, took notice. Apparently his body had decided that it should seize the opportunity whenever he allowed himself to relax. Even at work. The days he'd gone neglecting his needs when work had been busy had apparently conditioned his dick to seek release whenever it found an opening. He felt a familiar growing warmth in his balls and a sudden heaviness in his lap. His face warmed and he looked down at himself in disbelief. There was no reason for this. He had understood when this had happened to him yesterday. He'd been pent up. Frustrated. Overfull. But today? Surely today he could wait. His balls were not so stuffed with cum today that release was an emergency.

"No," he whispered, pleading with his dick to just wait. Just wait one more hour and he would take care of it. The warm ache in his balls twinged and his dick pulsed down his leg in response to his plea. He could see the beginnings of a bulge beginning down his right leg.

Thomas glanced at his door again, looking intently out the window. His team were busy in their cubicles around the corner. Or at least they were busy pretending, just like him. No one usually looked for anyone at 3:50 on a Friday afternoon. Everyone would be focused on surviving the last hour until the weekend.

Thomas looked down once more at the growing swell that his dick was making in his pants. He felt like he knew how this would go. His dick had decided for him. There would be no waiting this out, if it was like yesterday.

He glanced once more at his window before he moved his right hand to his lap, stroking over the inflamed head of his covered dick with his thumb. It bucked against his thigh, growing to full hardness at the attention. He absentmindedly teased his cockhead, wondering how he would handle this. He didn't want to whip his dick out in his office, and at this point he was too boned up to walk past his team to the restrooms. His light teasing along his head shifted to a full-palm caress, the warmth seeping from his hand and into his already overheated cock.

He pressed heel of his palm into his swollen genitals, seeking pressure to relieve the pulsing ache. "Mmf," he grunted, his face flushing and his breaths coming faster as he felt his dick pulse and twitch between the pressure of his hand and his thigh.

Thomas felt in his gut how this would go. He felt it in the heated tightness of his balls and the heat of his dick. This would be just like yesterday. There would be no waiting this out. But this time, he would not be going home with cum-soaked pants.

He kept his eyes locked firmly on his door as he unzipped his slacks. His team were busy, but still... He kept his hands hidden below the table as much as he could as he fished his stiff dick through his fly, the fabric of his red silk boxers the only thing masking his arousal from the air in his office. The red-clad erection bobbed free and twitched once, up towards the underside of his desk, an obscene showing of his arousal in deep red. A spurt of precum bubbled out of the tip, darkening the fabric.

His right hand snuck down underneath his dick and pulled it up, fondling slowly along its length without allowing himself to grip it. His eyes stayed glued to his door and he moved his arm more slowly than he thought he could. His hand wandered back down to where his balls lay, pulsing, but still hidden in his work slacks. He allowed himself a firm squeeze of his balls, shocked to find how full they felt after only a day of waiting.

"Fuck," He grunted, his hips bucking slightly into his hand. He squeezed his overfull balls again, unable to stop. He wanted to keep bucking up, but he tried to keep his hips still in his office chair. His left hand was locked in a white-knuckled grip on his desk and his breath was coming in quick pants as his right hand cupped and kneaded his balls, pulling them up towards himself. His dick twitched in the silken confines of his red boxers, leaking a steady stream of precum. The damp spot on his tip was dark and large, clinging to the inflamed mushroom head of his cock.

Thomas' eyes closed and he leaned back into his chair. His hand left his aching balls to return to his dick. This time his open-palm caress turned into a firm grip at the base, his palm cupping his leaking dick up towards him as his fingers wrapped tightly around his erection. "Nng," he grunted again, his hips once more pushing forward into his hand. The satin fabric slipped along his shaft, allowing his member to slide through his tight grip despite his lack of movement. The soaking fabric rubbing against his tip, his tight unmoving grip, and the soft fabric created a sensation he didn't think he'd ever be able to forget.

He slipped his hand up his shaft slowly, trying to keep his arm still as his fingers wrapped around his sensitive head. He could feel the warm dampness of the fabric in his palm as he squeezed tenderly. "Ha. Ahhh...ah." His breath stuttered and he squeezed again, milking his head in a slow series of pulsing squeezes. His dick jumped, a powerful pulse of precum bubbling through, a bubble of liquid pearling out of the head and drooling down onto his fingers. He moved his hand down to wrap around the shaft, his fingers rippling in a milking squeezing motion. His dick was a fountain, precum dribbling steadily out of his balls.

Thomas felt a warm, wet feeling on his stomach. Through his shirt. He glanced down and noticed that a string of precum was still connecting his leaking erection to his now-stained white work shirt. "Nnn, fuck, no, he whispered, his left hand unclenching from his desk and reaching shakily for the box of tissues on his desk. It took a few tries to grab a tissue with his left hand as his right hand was steadily squeezing in a slow flutter against his erection. He dabbed ineffectually at the precum stain with the tissue, giving up after a moment.

He leaned forward. Can't get cum on his shirt if his dick isn't leaking straight onto it. Thomas scooted his hips forward on his chair, his grip on his dick never failing. He leaned his forehead onto the cool wood of his desk, sighing in relief at the feeling on his fevered face.

He pointed his erection away from him, towards the floor under his desk, adding a small flick of his wrist to the rippling squeeze of his fingers as he began seeking his release in earnest. He kept his arm movements small and subtle, but he couldn't stop his hips from beginning an insistent series of thrusts into his fist. His dick continued to leak, his overfull balls aching and pulsing with too much come. The dribbling string of slippery, viscous liquid drooled slowly towards the carpet on his floor.

"Ha, ha, ha," he breathed heavily, thrusting into his fist as he milked. It wasn't quite enough. His left hand moved down, easily finding the heated swell of his balls still contained with his slacks. He gripped them, harder than before. "Ahh, yes. Fuck, yes. Like that, come on," he chanted. He couldn't get the grip he wanted, hunched over as he was, so he leaned back once more. His eyes scrunched shut in concentration as he milked his dick with his right hand and got a properly firm grip on his balls with his left. He continued thrusting, fucking his fist, feeling the wetness of his copious precum slip along the spaces between his fingers.

The ache in his balls reached a fever-pitch and his thrusting started a noticeable creaking in his office chair. He fluttered his grip along his dick and pulled his swollen balls up towards his core. His balls clenched and his dick bucked hard in his hand. He had just enough presence of mind to lean forward, aiming his erection away from his clothes. "Nnnnn yeah, fuck yeah, come on, come on, come on" he chanted as the first massive load of cum pulsed out of his dick, the thick white liquid boiling right past his sodden dick head and splattering onto the carpet. The smell of cum suffused the air. His load was at least as big as the one he lost in his pants yesterday. Possibly bigger. He couldn't know. All he could do was milk his cock and massage his balls as they continued to valiantly try to empty themselves. He was panting audibly. He could feel a line of drool leave his open mouth and. His left hand squeezed his balls. His dick bucked lethargically in his hand. He felt fully emptied, but he kept his kneading and squeezing up until his dick stopped twitching in orgasmic pulses. The clothed tip of his dick was steadily dripping a slimy white trail of cum onto the darkened stain on the floor.

When he was done, he collapsed fully back in his chair, defeated. He wiped at his mouth with his right hand, only to realize that he had replaced the drool on his face with a smear of his own cum. The smell wafted to his nose, stronger than before. His dick twitched valiantly at the smell, but it receded. His arousal, though sated, was slow to abate, even post orgasm. His dick was overstimulated and sensitive. Limply, he picked his head up to look at the mess he'd made on the floor. It was an impressive amount of cum. He would have to do the best he could with the tissues on his desk.

He glanced at his office door. The hallway was still empty outside. He glanced at the clock. 4:25. Enough time to clean, but barely enough time to recover.

"Okay, but this can't be a habit," Thomas thought to himself, looking down at his soaking dick in his ruined red boxers, now laying contently against the fly of his pants. He was pretty sure he was imagining it, but he thought he felt a warm twinge in his balls at the thought.