Authors note: Not erotic. Hopefully funny, at least amusing. I wrote it to take the piss out of a mate, but it turned into something I'm oddly proud of. ...

“Aaron “Wankman” Walters? There's a name I've not heard in quite some time. What a wanker that guy was. I remember the ‘98 finals; he competed in the 1 hour hog wash, the long shot, and the cup fill, all in one weekend!”

Aaron sat at the table behind the patrons, his back to them. Even if they looked him dead in the eye, he doubted they'd recognise him. Age had taken most of his hair, greyed his beard, and added 50 kg to his frame.

He remembered the 98s. He took 2 golds and a silver. An unprecedented medal haul. Only a terrific shot from Jerry “The Jerk Off” Jefferson had taken the gold from him in the long shot, and it has been said he had been edging himself for two weeks solid before the tournament.

It was a well-held fact that masterbation was a young man's game. And in many ways they were right. There was no way he'd be able to even qualify for the long shot now at his age; his once enviable velocity now spent.

The cup fill he thought he could at least line up for, but he didn't have a chance to even place. Some of these young guns could shoot up to 10 millilitres now with their special diets and hydration plans. None of that in Aaron's day! You turned up and let your natural talent take over.

And another thing, you knock the Wi-Fi off; you deprive these youngsters of the internet and see what they could do. Back when Aaron broke through, it was imagination that counted. It's all very well watching hours of every conceivable sex act played out at the touch of a button, but you send them to their Grans house with only a catalogue lingerie section and see what they could do.

Back in the day, Aaron was seen as a prodigy. No one has seen a wanker like him since Bill “fill her up” Phillips. We were talking generational talent. He had records that would stand the test of time. Seven in an hour! Seven! No one else had passed 5. He held both the most strokes endurance record and the least stroke speed record due to his unnatural control. The secret was in the mentality.

He could switch his mind to a hot peek of cleavage and pop immediately, or he could last for hours by reciting the Everton ‘96 FA Cup squad over and over again.

But now, at 48, his prime was well passed. What did he think he was doing? No one has placed at the Wanking World Cup past the age of 35, and his return had started a meme about sad old wankers. People were laughing at him. He'd fucking show them. A line of wankers made their way through the crowd. Aaron towards the back. The announcer's voice rang through the auditorium.

“Welcome to the stage, the finalists of the one hour Hog Wash!”

The 1-hour hog wash was the showpiece event. Sell out crowd for this one. Each competitor sat on their podium and attempted to knock out as many as possible within the hour limit. Six men took the stage. There were some quality pullers in this event:

Current world champion “Small Man” Sam Adams; Fresh from his long shot gold Sebastian “baguette” Bonaparte; Japan's newest wonderkid Aiko “Katana” Takahashi; Cup fill legend Omar “The Pump” Patel; freestyle champion D'Brickashaw “Pipeline” Picton, And Aaron “Wankman” Walters. Has-been. He'd only managed to qualify after bad boy of wanking Vic “Puff Puff” Paulson had been disqualified for ungentlemanly conduct following a taunting incident, where he'd flicked his jizz at a fellow competitor.

Each man took his place on his podium, and the screens that would show the porn compilations were wheeled in front of each man.

D’Brickashaw Picton stood in front of Aaron's podium. “I just wanted to say, man, you are the reason I got into wanking,” he said, extending a hand to shake. “I watched tapes of your cup fill in ‘04; what a performance, my man.” They shook and bumped fists. "Thanks, Dee. I appreciate it. Good luck, bro.”

Aaron scanned the crowd; there was a fever pitch of excitement out there. He saw banners and placards for all the competitors but couldn't find one for him. His eyes fell on a familiar face, Glenda. His ex-wife sat in the second row, hair longer than the last time he saw her, but she still looked beautiful to his eyes. He'd met her at the height of his fame, and after a whirlwind romance, they were married within a year. Only when his star had started to fall had things started to go wrong. No fault of Glenda's, but the lack of adrenaline from competing had led Aaron into some reckless choices, trying to chase the highs of being adored by thousands. Drink, gambling, and backroom wanking had all taken their toll on Glenda, and they'd been separated for the last 8 years.In that time he'd cleaned up, got sober, and this was his final goodbye to the wanking world. To see her out there... It brought back a lot of good memories and warm feelings. The announcer's voice rang out once more.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the event is about to begin; let's get Readyyyyy Tooo Fummmble!!!!”

The competitors all shrugged out of their robes; each man in the crotchless Spandex body suits in their country's colours. Although Aaron didn't fill out the red, white, and blue as sexily as he once had, he's trimmed down from his worst weight gain and at least presented an admirable dad bod. There was a five-minute grace period where competitors got comfortable and started trying to get the blood flowing. The youngster, Takahashi, was already solid. Impressive, young man, thought Aaron as he concentrated on the porn on the screen, trying to get hard. He looked up and caught Glenda's eye. She gave him an encouraging smile, then moved her fist back and forth close to her mouth and pushed her tongue into her cheek, miming a blowjob. Aaron smiled broadly. That did the trick. “I am surprised an old fart like you was even able to get eet up.” Sebastian Bonaparte quipped in his thick French accent. "Yeah, remembering your wife swallowing my load did the job; thanks, Froggy.” Aaron responded. You had to hold your ground in the wanking arena; intimidation was a legit tactic. The beeps counted down the remaining seconds, and on the hooter, the hour began. The roar of the crowd drowned out the slapping of meat as all the competitors began their first shot.

Just 2 minutes later, Takahashi put one on the board, followed in short order by D'Brickashaw and Sebastian. This wasn't a speed game, but Aaron felt the pressure building as Patel and Aaron's both put a score on the board.

Aaron's experience told him that Patel had expended too much there on the first pop, and he'd be in trouble sooner rather than later.

Sebastian turned to Aaron, swigging from a bottle of water. “What eez ze matter, Wankman, ‘ave you forgotten ‘ow to make eet work? You''ve embarrassed yourself and zis competition, old man.”

Aaron tuned him out and concentrated on the girl taking a pounding on his TV screen. Her partner pulled out and sprayed his jizz on her abdomen. Just in time. With the implicit permission of his entertainers, he let loose his first load.

“I'd offer you some of this to take home,” Aaron said to Sebastien, showing him his sticky fingers, “but there'll be enough in your wife's knickers if you want some.”

With each player on the board, now is where the hard work started.

50 minutes in, and the contest was on a knife edge. As Aaron has predicted, Omar “The Pump” Patel had indeed unloaded too heavily and had dropped out at two. D’Brickashaw had looked steady but now looked spent after three, though he still tried to tempt his impressive schlong back into action. The kid had heart. “Small Man” Sam Adams, the defending champion, had left the crowd stunned after retiring on three. Already there were whispers of his imminent retirement from the whole sport at the age of 32.

That left Takahashi and Sebastian Bonaparte on four, both battling for the decisive fifth. But the crowd's attention was focused on Aaron. There had been audible gasps when he sprung number three on the half hour mark, but now as his arm kept pumping, the crowd willed him on to draw level at four. His face was drenched in sweat. His teeth gritted and his eyes scrunched tight, he looked like he might pass out, but the crowd spurred him on. With a cry more of pain than ecstasy, he let go a solitary thick spurt that dribbled, rather than shot, from his red raw cock. The noise of the crowd shook the auditorium.

Takahashi looked over and nodded appreciatively, while Sebastian looked incredulous.

Three men on four. This had the makings of a classic, but no one expected anything more from Aaron “Wankman” Walters. He had more than proved his point. Jed hung with the best on the biggest stage, but with just 12 minutes left and both Takahashi and Bonaparte already working up steam, this looked like the end of his story.

He looked around the auditorium, but he couldn't see Glenda. She must have left. Without even a goodbye. At least she came, he thought; at least she saw him on stage as he once was. He hoped it brought back good memories for her.

There seemed to be a kafuffle of technicians running around the stage. Aaron looked around for the source of their sudden panic, then he noticed all of the screens were frozen. Little white circles spun around and around, unable to stream anymore content.

The buzz of the news reverberated around the audience. What would happen? Could they call it off? Takahashi and Bonaparte looked equally flummoxed, their fists unmoving around their cocks. The announcer's voice cut through the hubbub, “Ladies and gentlemen, there appears to be technical difficulties, but it's irrelevant to the competition, the clock is still live!” The crowd roared in appreciation. All three competitors looked at each other. Aaron felt a surge of excitement at their panicked faces. They had nothing. No imagination. Stunted by the ease of access to every type of pornography, they had never developed the skills to finish on their own!

He could see, in real time, Takahashi’s penis soften. Could he? Could he dig deep one more time?

A frizz of brown hair caught his eye as Glenda took her seat. Their eyes met, and she winked. He immediately felt a pulse of life in his flaccid dick. Had she cut the wi-fi? She blew him a kiss and nodded slowly, whether in encouragement or confirming his thoughts telepathically; he couldn't know.

He closed his eyes. Images of Glenda filled his imagination. Their first kiss; his first blowjob, her eyes fixed on his; an image of her bent over hands on the floor, ass and pussy on display for him. The first time they made love in the moonlight on the mountain path. He hasn't touched his cock, but the roar of the crowd let him know everything he needed to. He opened his eyes and looked down at his erect penis. He was back in the game. He glanced at the clock. Just three minutes left. He set to his task. The pain was indescribable as a once pleasurable feeling grated on him like broken violin strings. But he knew, ride this out, and he could do it. Two minutes left, and his brain dragged every erotic experience in his life before his eyes. Filling Glenda's mouth with his cum, her breasts bouncing as she rode him, the first time she let him slip his cock into her ass. He felt it now. It was there the sensation of a creeping cum shot—but the clock. Takahashi had folded; his dick now shrivelled, but Sebastian “baguette” Bonaparte was jamming madly. A minute left, and Bonaparte screamed his frustration at his unforthcoming orgasm.

Aaron maintained a steady rhythm. He could do this, he knew. But not with just seconds left. The crowd was at fever pitch, willing both competitors on. He saw his ex-wife looking hopefully at him. He gave a small shake of his head, defeated. Glenda gripped the bottom of her cable knit jumper and pulled it up. She wore no bra, and her gorgeously round boobs swung heavy and free.

Aaron has not seen those girls in nearly a decade, and the sight of them here and now gave his balls the surge they needed. As the clock dropped to single figures, Aaron roared in pleasure. Or pain, they were both as one now. A single bead of hot white cum pumped from his bellend. “That counts! That counts!” Screamed the judge as the clock struck one second remaining. Five. He'd done it. He'd proved them all wrong. Bonaparte yelled in frustration, kicking the TV stand over in a rage. The frantic crowd swarmed the stage in rapturous delight! They'd be able to tell their grandkids of witnessing one of the great wanker moments in human history. They carried his aching, sweaty body on their shoulders.

“Put me down, guys! Put me down.” Aaron begged, eyes searching for Glenda, “Glenda? Glendaaa?” He screamed into the crowd. “I'm here! Aaron, I'm here!” They both pushed through the crowd and found each other, throwing their arms around one another. They hugged a lifetime of love back into their souls. “Aaron I've missed you so much,” Glenda cried into his ear. “Do you forgive me, Glenda?” Aaron beseached.

"Yes, you fool!” She kissed him passionately, “as long as you have one more in there for me!” She laughed, full of joy.