Lately, I've been consumed by raw, primal lust. Nights spent naked, throbbing, aching, edging for hours as my body burns with need. Every stroke, every touch sends me spiraling-my hands gripping my cock, one wrapped tight around the head, the other pumping the shaft in a relentless rhythm. My fingers slide down to my swollen balls, teasing them, slipping lower to circle my entrance, sending shocks through me. My hips grind, thrusting into my grip as if I'm plunging into someone's heat. My cock is alive, pulsing, begging to explode, but tonight won't let it. I'm drunk on the bliss, the tension, the unbearable ecstasy of holding back. Every moment is fire, and want to drown in it.