My eyes were stuck to the screen of my laptop; I was getting to the good part, and I knew it.
My hand slid down, unbuckling my belt to release my large weapon from its chambers.
The room was a mess; cassettes lay around, bed unmade, clothes on the floor and all.
But I didn't care as much; my favorite blue film was finally getting to the best part.
Or maybe not my favorite blue film since I would be selecting from only about a handful I had watched a dozen times.
But it wasn't time to think it through.
I began to stroke my hot, throbbing cock as the movie began to heat up.
Nothing really mattered anymore as the world had come to a standstill.
At this point it's just me, my laptop, and my thick cock glistening with pre-cum.
I stroked a little faster after lubricating my hands some more.
Raising my hips some more as my strokes became frantic, I was edging into my climax and I knew it.
Without warning I finally climaxed into the screen of my old vintage laptop, the blue film still playing a little cracked but good enough for one to know what's going on.
After that I remained seated, my hands still clenched on my already soft cock.
"That feeling," I whispered under my breath. "It's not the climax that was the problem." It was actually the feeling after.
That feeling where you look at your life and shake your head in disbelief.
I finally looked around me; my room was stuffy, and the paint was already peeling off the wall.
And despite that, I didn't quite handle it well, as the clothes I planned to wash yesterday were littered all over the floor.
The room itself smelled like an old storage facility from the eighties.
I sighed in utter defeat; after all this was going to be a normal Saturday: postpone laundry till Sunday, lie around doing nothing, and then get some beer and cigarettes in the night to cool off.
But the afterfeeling that came after masturbation still didn't leave; it especially clung to me today more than usual.
Although there are days like that, today's own was quite intense.
I kept hearing a voice in my head telling me what a loser I am.
I couldn't even keep my girlfriend, Eva.
Of course she had to leave. I thought as I stood up to clean up packing and stuck away my overused blue firm cassettes.
But the voice won't stop despite me shaking it off, and now it has leapt on all my weak points at one go.
Yes I loved women I Dreamt of all the funny things I could do to them but I was that guy.
I had no money, I had no fame I was just a nobody trying to survive of scholarship and the little pay that came from the side job I got at the bakery.
But aside from all this, women were the only thing I could think of, but that's obviously after that bitch left me.
I sacrificed everything for her only to be hit with the generic crap of "This isn't working; I think you deserve better."
Anger began flaring up in my chest, remembering how she began dating Tyler only three days after the breakup.
But I decided not to give it much thought, I dressed up in my slightly wrinkled white T-shirt and blue pair of jeans.
I had a morning shift at the bread store since it was Saturday.
Looking at myself one more time in the mirror, I stepped out.
My apartment was a nice two-story building that held a lot of secrets.
Some nights when I walked through the corridor I would always hear moaning sounds from most of the rooms.
But I couldn't care less.
With a bright smile on my face, I tucked my hand in my pocket and walked out as though I were the richest in the block.
The bread store was about a 30-minute walk, which made it the perfect job for a low-budget ass like me.
After about thirty minutes I finally arrived at the bread store, which had a glowing signboard, which was a very perfect landmark for anywhere along this route.
I moved graciously into the store, which in fact wasn't just a bread store but an eatery where little appetizers and bread meals were served.
I immediately moved behind the counter where I was stationed; after all, my job was simply to pass the orders to my sexy co-worker.
I turned to the kitchen behind me, at the thought of Kyla, who always dressed like she was going for a hookup after work.
My throat instantly dried up at the sight of her.
She looked absolutely stunning; she wore a thick, tight black skirt outlining her body with intense accuracy. The skirt was high above her knees, her curves screaming out of her, revealing part of her smooth legs, which could stop any grown man in his tracks.
She also had a matching black turtleneck, which looked a little too small for her, because of the massive weight of her breasts.
The heat in the kitchen was already drenching her in sweat, soaking the top of her turtleneck, which outlined her breasts even more.
"Hi, good to see you, Mr. Co-worker." she said with a smile halfway to the oven where she was baking some bread.
"Well, good to see you… too." I stuttered to finish the last part of my sentence as Kyla provocatively squatted beside the oven to remove the bread she had been baking.
Her thighs were exposed as her short skirt slipped dangerously high, but she didn't seem concerned in the least. Maybe that's because I'm the only one who could see her.
My cock pressed so hard against my pants as I looked on. Maybe I was imagining things, but I think I cut her white panties.