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ON
THE M6
By Nigel Dean |
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I love a good wank,
don’t you ?
I’ve been enjoying this hobby ever since I was a kid; I first
got hairs round my balls when I was a couple of weeks short of
my twelfth birthday, had a fantastic wet-dream and then found
out what my right hand was really for.
I have tried to estimate how many times I have jerked off since
those early days and can only guess it runs into several
thousand ! But some of those have been rather special and last
in my memory more than others. Here’s one of those exceptional
times.
It had been a dead boring meeting and I was angry at the late
hour I was having to drive home. The motorway was deserted, just
the other occasional car overtaking and my passing the odd
slow-coach-granddad in the near-side lane. I wished there had
been something a bit more exciting about the day when I hit upon
an idea to make it memorable.
The very instant the idea came into my mind a boner began to
bulge beneath my trousers. Slowing a little I unfastened the
waist and slid the zip down as far as it would go.
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shuffle and my trousers were down to the point where the back of
my thighs met the edge of the car seat. A glance in my mirror,
no lights approaching in the distance. Great. |
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M6 heading south out
of Birmingham towards the M1. Birmingham was well behind me. How
long to the M1 junction ? Far enough, I would time things to cum
as I entered the slip road.
Right hand down the front of my underpants, nice one - feeling
good. Lets get rid of these pants as well. Move them down to
join the trousers.
A quick check, yes I could manage the peddles OK and no problem
steering with just the one hand. Better keep the speed down to
seventy; don’t want to get stopped for speeding by some
over-zealous cop.
Hey I sure have a nice cock, perhaps not the biggest in the
world, I have several friends considerably better endowed than
me, but a nice one no question.
With a firm grip of the left hand, and a gently rhythm
developing I wonder if anyone else has ever taken pleasure from
himself along this particular stretch of road.
Some music - Classic FM, sounds good - soothing and something to
attach my rhythm to. Mozart. I wonder if he ever wanked in time
to his own compositions.
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yellow lights so evenly spaced along the sides and centre of the
carriageway join the rhythm of the beat in perfect time to the
music and the motion of my left hand between my legs. |
Precum, loads of
precum - how far to the junction with the M1 ? I guess five
miles. At this speed a little over four minutes. Keep the beat
going but hold back with every force available to make the
ejaculation when it comes a big one.
I pinch my buttocks together, the smooth velour of the car seat
feels seductive on my bare bum. My solid cock is like an extra
gear shift and I move it through first, accelerating briefly to
second and into third. Over rev and touch fourth for just a
second then slip nicely into fifth. My cock moves and the
gearbox of my balls responds to the hand control above.
The sharp bend announcing the approach of the M1 looms up. Look
in the mirror, no still nothing behind me. Out into the third
lane and cruise round the bend. A final frantic rub, hold on -
hold on. Two hands on the wheel, flick the indicator right. Down
the slope of the slip road, glance in the mirror - nothing
coming along the M1.
Left hand back to its proper work.
Two hundred yards - I’m cuming - hold on.
One hundred yards
- that magical male liquid is there at the head forcing its way
ever upwards. |
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Over
the white hatched lines and onto the new motorway - cum - cum
-cum.
Both hands on the wheel again, no need for a fist of fingers any
more. My cock twitches and flicks on its own.
Bloody fantastic. Bloody, bloody fantastic.
That was a wank to remember.
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