David’s Erotic Diary – Lunch Break, 2018

I knew the second I decided to take my lunch in that abandoned office that I wasn’t going to be eating. The building was under construction, and tucked away in the back there was this empty room with a dusty old carpet, stacks of drywall leaning against the wall, and nothing but the hum of the air system for company. Just walking in, closing the door behind me, I felt a rush of excitement. I had a whole hour. An hour of being hidden, but not completely safe. Someone could wander by, a contractor, another worker. That risk made my cock twitch before I even sat down.

I unbuckled my pants slowly, savoring the anticipation. The quiet was deafening, and the second I pushed my pants down, my cock, soft but heavy, fell out into the open air. I started with just a light touch — fingertips brushing the shaft, sliding across the skin lazily. My whole body lit up like I’d been waiting all day for that moment. Within seconds, I felt this warm, building pressure, and before I even realized it, semen started sliding out. Thick, white fluid dripped down from the head, pooling at the base. I hadn’t even gripped it yet. My body just gave in, betrayed by how sensitive and turned on I already was.

I watched it leak down, fascinated. It wasn’t an orgasm — no pulse, no climax — just my cock forcing out thick, wet fluid like it couldn’t hold it in. That sight made me harder, my shaft thickening in my hand as I smeared the mess across the head. My frenulum was screaming for attention, and every time I brushed my fingers over it, more fluid escaped, dripping slowly, stringing between my shaft and my hand. I felt like I could cum just from teasing that spot, and honestly, I almost did.

I leaned back against the wall, one hand gripping the base of my cock, holding it steady, while the other hand teased along the underside. My balls felt heavy, tight, begging to release. I let myself stroke slowly, savoring it, but I could feel the orgasm building faster than I expected. I squeezed my Kegel muscle hard, pushing the sensation higher, forcing it out.

The first jets came suddenly. Drops ran down my shaft first, then two powerful eruptions blasted upward. The first shot arced at least a foot into the air and landed two feet away on the carpet. The second followed right after, thick and strong, splattering across the paper towels I’d laid down. Watching it spurt out like that — forceful, uncontrolled, visible proof of my orgasm — made me groan out loud, my voice echoing in that empty room.

After the main jets, more semen trickled down, coating my cock, running over my knuckles, warm and slick. I stroked the shaft slowly, milking every last drop, watching it glisten as it spread. The smell of it filled the room, musky and raw, mixing with the dusty air of the abandoned office.

I sat there for a minute, breathing hard, cock still twitching, satisfied and drained. The paper towels were soaked, but that only turned me on more — the mess was mine, a record of how badly I needed that release. I cleaned up as best I could, straightened my clothes, and walked out like nothing had happened.

But the truth is, that orgasm stayed with me for the rest of the day. I kept replaying the sight of those thick, white ropes shooting into the air, the way my cock leaked uncontrollably before I even really started. And it wasn’t the first time. That office became my secret spot more than once. I’ve leaked early, cum fast, made mess after mess. And every time, I walked back into work carrying that satisfied secret, knowing I’d just spent my lunch in the most intense way possible.