I turn my head, pressing my nose into one of the creases and dragging the aroma in on a greedy pull. Being at work, smelling all the pastries and treats and baked goods is amazing, but this is fucking next level.
My steel-hard cock twitches, pushing the book from my lap. A thick droplet of precum makes a track down the sides of my overheated shaft.
“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” I whisper to my dick. “ I’ll give you some attention when we’re in bed.” I pick up the book and flip it open. I sat down to relax and read, not beat off because my recliner smells like sex on a stick.
As time passes and I get more into the book, the smell fades, but doesn’t entirely go away. I’m not sure if I’m glad about that or not.
After half an hour, my dick is still painfully hard, so I grab it and give it a few tugs, promising to take care of it before bed. Right now, I want to get more pages read to meet my goal for the year.
My hand still wrapped around my shaft, I awkwardly turn the page and start a new chapter.
I’m not sure how long I’m reading before the spiciest scene I’ve ever read pops up. And it. Is. Scorching! My god, imagining two large men, sneaking around to be together and being hot as fuck while they do it?
Yes please.
I don’t realize I’m stroking myself in earnest until that amazing scent wafts off my recliner again, stronger and more potent than before.
“Fuck, that’s…fuck it, that’s good,” I mutter as I drop the book to the floor and spread my legs wider to cup my sac. I slowly tug on my shaft, my back bowing when I roll my thumb over my cockhead.
The feeling of my hand on my dick and the scent in my nose is indescribable. It’s like every ounce of pleasure I’ve ever felt in my entire life, times one hundred, times a million. I’m so keyed up that I fear I might combust from the sheer ecstasy.
“You smell fucking phenomenal,” I tell my recliner, knowing I sound like a loon but not giving a fuck. I’ve never felt this good while touching myself. Sure, it’s always felt pretty amazing—I’m an old pro at getting myself off quickly—but never like tiny fingers caressing my skin, dancing across my flesh.
My hand speeds up, stroking at a frantic pace while the aroma fills the air and wraps itself around me like a warm embrace.
“Shit, oh fuck. I’m close…”
Who the fuck am I talking to? I’ve never been chatty with any of my partners, preferring to show my pleasure with moans and enthusiasm. But I need…someoneto know how fucking good I feel.
Or something.
One of my legs jacks up as I pump myself off faster, inching closer and closer to the finish line. My opposite hand squeezes my balls, the grip tight, only heightening the electric sensation. I gasp as pleasure shoots through me, from the top of my head down to my toes.
I twist in the recliner, nosing along the seam to take in more of the scent. My cock grows impossibly harder and precum leaks from me like a fucking faucet. I even slide my shaft along the arm rest a few times, the supple leather cupping and caressing me.
God, it smells so good, the fragrance going right to my dick. It’s like the scent forms a fucking mouth around my shaft, sucking me in with greedy pulls. The imaginary suction feels oddly real, like it’s begging me to fill its imaginary throat with my very real cum.
Who am I to deny this imaginary mouth?
Tingling down the entire length of my body is the only warning I get before I’m in free fall, my pleasure making me soar so high I might never come down. A shout leaves my throat as my cock pulses, cum shooting from me in a wide arc.
My back bows off the recliner as I milk myself, spurt after spurt splashing on my belly, chest and some even hits the underside of my chin.
I’ve never had an orgasm this hard that lasts this long. It’s like I can’t stop coming, with my nose buried in the recliner’s crease. Every inhale pushes another jet from me, weaker than the last, but still a fucking geyser.
I force my nose away from the seam so I can stop coming. If I don’t, I’ll be fucking dehydrated.
With tremendous force of will, I snatch my hand from my dick, which is still twitching and leaking.
“Too much,” I mutter to the air, placing my hand over my heart, the staccato beating under my palm a little concerning.
I look down at where my hand is resting in my release, the mess thick under my palm, but I don’t care—I need to make sure the organ behind my ribs doesn’t beat too fast to push me into fucking cardiac arrest.
“Jesus fuck. The fuck was that?” I ask no one, trying to get my breathing under control. I’veneverorgasmed like that before, not even when I learned how to milk my prostate. That was great, but this experience was out of this fucking world.
I look down at my dick that’s still rock hard, ready to go for round two.
“Absolutely fucking not,” I murmur to my horned-up shaft, closing my eyes as exhaustion washes over me. “I can’t do that again. It’ll probably fucking kill me.”
