When Ben heard the alarm sound at 6:00 AM, he didn’t move except to open his right eye. He didn’t need to look at the clock or glance up at the window behind his head to see if the sky was light. It was 6:00 AM, on – what day was it, now? – Tuesday, he remembered. His open eye settled on the green digits of the clock. Yep, 6:00 AM. He slapped the kill switch lightly and the bedroom went quiet again.
He knew exactly where he was and exactly what he was doing today. He’d shower, dress, eat something, drive an hour to his office, work until 12:30, eat lunch, work until 4:45, and drive an hour home again. He liked his architecture practice, though, so the chances were good that there would be an interesting problem to solve during the day; since he was a fine and innovative architect, the chances were good that he’d come up with an interesting solution to that problem. He wasn’t unhappy.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t particularly happy, either. Lying on his right side, facing the side table where the alarm clock and his reading lamp were, he didn’t need to check behind him to know that his wife, Amanda, was there. She was always there, bless her. After more than twenty-four years of marriage they each knew that the other wasn’t going anywhere, not after living through what they had lived through. They loved each other very much, but the days of loving each other “MADLY, PASSIONATELY” were a fond memory rather than a present reality.
She did make him happy – she had fucked his brains out three nights ago, for example, and Ben’s cock twitched to remember that – but she didn’t have the same temperament and outlook that Ben did. By this morning, the memory of Saturday night’s very vigorous and rather funny sex was actually beginning to fade for Ben, but Amanda would likely go through this week and into the next still basking in the glow of it. Which meant that they were out of synch in terms of horniness and lust already, and that would only get worse.
Ben reached back of him with his left hand and put it on her right hip. As usual, they were sleeping back to back, a habit that kept them from being disturbed by each other’s snoring. Amanda denied snoring at all, of course, and to tell the truth it was a very ladylike noise, only occasionally audible and never capable of waking Ben up. Ben’s snoring, though, could be heard on the ground floor of their house through the closed door of their second-floor bedroom; it was a little less noisy if he slept on his right side. Amanda stirred a bit, then took a deep breath and settled into the light snoring that indicated she was undisturbed by the alarm.
Satisfied that Amanda was well asleep, Ben brought his arm back and felt his cock, which was its usual dormant self: a perfectly normal, if slightly small, penis resting its head on the right side of his groin. As Ben thought about last Saturday night, it twitched and stirred. He put his hand on it to feel it thicken slightly and uncurl a bit, displaying its usual independence. Ben smiled to himself. “Okay, junior, what’s on YOUR mind?” He put two fingers and the thumb of his left hand around its root, gripping it lightly while his ring finger and pinky rested on his scrotum. Ben’s balls began to tighten up.
Ben shifted slightly, rolling a few degrees to his left to free up his right arm and hand. With the fingertips of his right hand, he lightly tapped the tip of his circumcised penis. It instantly flexed itself and grew a bit longer and thicker, which made it a bit stiffer, too. Even after nearly fifty years of life – and nearly forty years of male sexuality – Ben was startled a bit to feel his dick leap into action without any direction from him. He ran the fingernail of his right middle finger over the spongy head of his dick, which produced another sudden growth spurt in its length and girth, but which tickled him slightly uncomfortably. He did it again.
Ben let his penis do what it wanted for a couple of minutes. It wanted to be long, thick, and very hard, and on its own it got a good start on that condition. But Ben wasn’t seventeen, or even thirty-seven, any more. It was longer and thicker, to be sure, than it was when he woke up, but it certainly wasn’t as big or as hard as the eight inch length of titanium that it had been when he was young. “Well, no matter, a little help is nothing to be ashamed of,” Ben thought as he tightened his grip on his cock at its base.
At the same time he gripped the head of his dick with his right hand and pulled. This made it longer, but thinner. And then he squeezed it with his left hand, sliding his hand up to hold the shaft of it fully. The squeeze also made his dick smaller momentarily as he pushed blood out of it, but it rushed back in and now his dick had grown. It fattened nicely in his hand and he squeezed it again.
By now, Ben was fully engaged in his cock. He shifted the sheet and blanket so he could look at himself for the first time this morning. The tip of his penis was a deep rose color. Its length was a lighter pink. Ben squeezed his dick, hard, and his glans turned purple and nearly doubled in size. The skin on his cock head became shiny as it went taut from the pressure of the new blood in it. The hole at the tip nearly disappeared as the flesh around it swelled under the attention. He relaxed his grip; his dickhead went back to the lovely matte rose color it had been, but stayed a bit larger than before.
Amanda made a little sound, half a breath and half a word. Ben froze; he had forgotten her. She coughed lightly, then turned slightly further onto her left side and resumed the normal slow breathing of her sleep.
Ben waited a full minute without moving, but he did flex his left hand from time to time to keep his cock interested. It stayed hard. During the minute, Ben remembered fucking Amanda very hard on Saturday night past. They had been changing positions every few minutes, partly to avoid the routine sex that they both hated, but also because their bodies were older than they had been and they were sometimes prone to discomfort if they didn’t shift their weight around. When they both came, it had been with Ben standing at the side of their bed with his dick up Amanda’s pussy, while her toes pointed at the ceiling and she urged him on, “Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me… Oh jeez… Oh fuck… Shit, shit, shit… You bastard, you better fuck me… Oh God… Oh God… Oh fuck… Aaaahhh… Oh shit, that was good…”
Ben had held back his orgasm as best he could, and this time he got the timing perfect. Just as Amanda arched her back and fucked him hardest with her pussy, he dug in his feet and plunged all of his hard, hard cock into that same pussy and came, with a spurt of cum and then another spurt of cum and another and another, until his mind went blank and his cock finished up by itself. Amanda’s pussy overflowed with semen. It dripped down the crack of her butt and some dripped on the floor. Neither of them noticed; they were stunned and shocked, their minds elsewhere, still fucking.
That recollection made Ben’s testicles shift and tingle on his side of the bed. A glint of reflected light appeared a few millimeters down his urethra as pre-cum started to get through the length of his dick. The glint got completely to the top, where it became a droplet, then a large drop of pre-cum. Ben touched it with the tip of his right index finger and spread his self-lubricant across the lovely pink glans that he had been staring at. With the surface tension broken, a much larger amount of pre-cum oozed out, making a bead that hung by a strand from the head of his dick.
Ben could feel his testicles tightening up some more. With his left hand he smeared some of his pre-cum just below his cock’s head, its corona, very lightly caressing his frenulum to give himself a small shiver of pleasure. He put his index finger and middle finger on each side of the frenulum and stroked himself with his own pre-cum. His cock began to twitch a bit on its own.
The beginnings of an orgasm began to distract Ben from the specific part of his dick that he was touching. His cock began to grow on its own again, and the glans became a deeper rose color as it filled with blood. Suddenly Ben came, throwing a stream of cum over his right hand and onto the sheet. Ben forced himself to be as still as he could, even as his legs went rigid and his back arched a bit. Amanda knew he masturbated, and had for decades, but Ben was, oddly, shy about doing it in front of her. He also thought it was a sign of weakness to be so in need of an orgasm at random times of the day, and he would be embarrassed if she knew about this event.
He spurted cum again, barely stifling his voice as he spasmed again. He couldn’t stifle his breathing, though. He gasped a bit, then a third gush of cum jumped onto his hand and the sheet. A fourth, smaller, ejaculation was squirted onto his hand, then the cumming stopped and his cock twitched a few times and went still.
Ben’s breathing was as heavy as if he had been lifting weights. He tried to make as little noise as he could; he opened his mouth and breathed through it for a while. After a minute or so, his penis emptied itself of the stiffening surge of blood that had filled it as he came. His testicles descended a bit and his scrotum smoothed out and unclenched itself. Ben waited another minute, then turned on his side lamp and sat up on his side of the bed. Amanda still lay on her side, breathing smoothly and lightly as she had for many years; Ben’s alarm no longer woke her.
Grabbing a few tissues, Ben wiped up the cum from the sheet and from his arm. He checked the floor, just in case the first urgent stream of cum had cleared the edge of the mattress. It had. Ben cleaned up that evidence as well.
Smiling to himself, Ben turned the light off again and went to the bathroom for his shower. It would be a normal day, with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, plus two long commutes and a full day’s work, but it would be a better than average day. Ben’s mind and body had been given the pleasure that they needed. He was pleased.
[Amanda thought to herself, “Well, that sounded successful!” She had felt Ben’s hand on her hip, briefly, but everything else that had happened that morning was a voyeuristic experience. She awoke when Ben did. She knew Ben had thought about something before getting up, and she guessed at what it was. She had felt Ben’s legs stiffen as he came. She had heard him control his voice and his breathing, mostly. She had waited for his urgency to pass after he came, and she was tickled that he cleaned up after himself. When Ben went to the shower, she allowed herself to feel the dampness between her legs. She let him think she was asleep as he dressed for work, and when he kissed her before going downstairs and out, she mumbled a garbled “I love you” as an answer to his somewhat less garbled “I love you.” After Ben was gone, Amanda remembered the morning and last Saturday, herself.]
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