No warning, it had just gone rock-hard mid-conversation and only moments after she’d noticed that Henry was also at the party. An abrupt end to the wrecked interaction she’d been having with two nice girls.
Looking down, she nearly swore aloud.
It was fully visible through her skirt, the outline as clear as day.
She pulled up her skirt and slid down her boxer shorts, and her penis sprung up from where it had gotten caught pointing downwards, ungrateful. A rush of sexual arousal thrummed through her body and forced her to double over, her hands going to her knees.
“Oh fuck. Fuck,” she swore at the floor.
It stood hard under her, twitching and desperate to be touched. It was over six inches long but felt bigger, veins standing out down her shaft below her bulbous head, hard as a rock. It throbbed, involuntary contractions of her pelvic muscles even made it jerk.
Her testicles, similarly, were full, swollen and tender.
It had been over six hours since she’d last masturbated, and now she was paying the price.
There was no way she could go back to the party like this. Running was her best option.
Thinking about it, cold water in the shower was one idea, but it wouldn’t make her go fully flaccid and it would hurt like fuck. It wouldn’t last either, and then she’d be fully hard and throbbing again.
Now that she was getting turned on, it was escalating. It was getting difficult to *not* think about Henry.
Samantha could imagine them holding each other, naked, with nothing held back, fucking while-
“No, stop it. Stop,” she aloud.
Boxers around her thighs, she walked around the small bathroom, trying not to touch herself.
Through the frosted glass, she could see the outlines of people outside, even in the dark. The thump of the music she could feel through the floor. She closed the blinds. Better not let anyone see her.
She spoke to herself, “You’re not thinking about Henry, you’re thinking about doing the responsible thing which is getting home safely. You’ve got to get out of the house without anyone seeing you. 13 times 15 is, let me think, 130 plus half of that. That’s 50 plus… 15. 65. So 130 plus 65, that’s… 5 short of 200. 195.”
The problem solving helped – it kept her mind off Henry and his naked body and dick-
“15 multiplied by 16, that feels like a good one. Err, 10 16’s and 5 16’s. 160 plus half of that. 80. 240. Easy.”
She pulled out her emergency panties from her purse as she whispered her way through another sum, sliding the panties on. With her thumb and forefinger, she maneuvered her penis – that was now raging and throbbing – down into them, and the feeling stole her away from the math problem. A shiver and rush of sexual arousal overtook her, where nothing mattered more than the thought of having her naked legs wrapped around someone else’s.
Once she had it down inside the fabric, she kept her hands well away from it. The waistband of the panties was held away from her pelvis, but it did a good job of containing it.
She put her boxers back on over them, the loose fabric hugging her bubbly rear under her skirt.
Her erection pulsed against the fabric, straining against it and trying desperately to pull itself up. It throbbed, and each throb made her knees go weak, while her full, heavy testicles *liked* the tightness.
“Don’t think about sex, just getting home. Think about sex then.”
She made it the three steps to the door before a sudden feeling in her erection and a burst of images in her mind of a naked Henry and other naked men caused her to double over again.
Her penis demanded to be touched, growing even harder in the panties that it was now straining very hard against. The tingling feeling inside it was pure sexual arousal, the kind that made her want to fuck and get fucked, hard.
It was already getting too much, and that made her feel like panicking.
She could run out of the party, but it would be half an hour at least to walk home, with it getting worse the whole time. Now that she was turned on, it would only escalate, and she was already desperate, so horny that somehow her hand was already on her erection through her skirt. She hadn’t willed that. Even her testicles felt like they were bulging, and that was nothing compared to the feeling in her penis.
No, the walk home now would be too difficult. Anyone could see it, and 30 minutes of this getting worse and worse… she couldn’t take it. This was the price she paid for giving it a few hours – for not jacking off right before she came here.
It had only been six hours, but there was no choice.
She put a hand to her face.
Henry could fuck her. He could hold her tight and fuck her, with his fully naked body. He could enjoy her and she’d enjoy him. She could suck on Henry’s erection. He could do the same to her.
Pleasure crept through her from the fantasies, tempting her to indulge herself, all while her erection gave one *big* throb that made it hurt with how contained it was in the panties. She stayed doubled over.
“3 times… err, 7 times 13 is, umm, 70 plus 3 7’s…”
But thoughts of Henry’s face and body were what she saw as she tried to do the sum.
She squeezed her erection through her clothes, lightly, and the rush was so intense that it made her wobble. That same hand had to grab the sink to stop her from falling over.
She touched it again with her other hand, and it felt *so* good. Sexy thoughts overtook her mind.
Now that she’d started touching herself, it was getting worse faster. Her penis and testicles demanded that she relieve the pressure and desire inside them. That feeling was spreading throughout the rest of her body.
Her fist struck out at the wall. Then again, and a few tears spread into her eyes.
She’d *liked* those girls downstairs. She’d been having *fun*, the party was *fun.* It was a good place with good music, and the people were good and having a good time.
She’d just wanted to be optimistic – to believe that maybe she *didn’t* have to masturbate just to go out.
She hitched up her skirt up around her waist and brought down her boxers and panties to her ankles, her erection springing up again, the twang and the sudden rush of being free sending a flood of contained desire through her, like a coiled spring being released.
It throbbed and pulsated. Thoughts of sex and tangling her body up with a naked man, of having her erection against a naked man’s quickly going through her, images of them naked, of holding each other, and of him fucking her. Henry was in some of those images.
More tears spread into her eyes, and even the sadness that came with them didn’t relieve her arousal. Not one bit.
She sat on the edge of the bathtub, holding her face with her hands.
“Fuck it. Fuck it all,” she said. And to no one in particular, she said, “And fuck you most of all.”
Samantha had always known she was in a minority, being a girl with boy parts, but it wasn’t such a rare genetic anomaly that it needed explaining very often. Instances of name-calling and teasing had hurt, but her body had been something she could deal with. She’d been happy. Even when she’d grown up enough to understand that it would affect her love life, boys had still really liked her, and a lot of them too. She’d never gone that far with anyone, but it was nice to know she could have.
A year ago, however, around the time she’d been finishing school, she’d started getting symptoms – or rather just the one symptom – and the diagnosis had come.
Solman Extreme Arousal Disorder.
It made her constantly horny, and when she started to get turned on, it would run away from her, escalating out of control no matter what she tried. Minutes after cumming, she’d be horny again. When she wasn’t alone in room, life was a constant act of pretending she wasn’t forever horny. Even when her erection would behave and stay down, she still had to think about sex.
Masturbating was a chore. Everyday it took four orgasms at least to not be springing erections throughout the day. Her erections themselves were raging, every time.
It was awful, having to jack herself off *every time* she wanted to go out, lest she see a cute boy or a good looking man, or a guy with a nice butt.
College was hell. Masturbating in the bathrooms was mandatory.
It was awful being in those rooms with the boys and the hot professors, trying to focus on her studying while having to think about sex with them – sex she didn’t even want. It was routine, leaving class early and showing up late for the next, all because she’d get a raging erection and couldn’t switch her sexual arousal off once it was turned on.
Everybody knew. Her condition was public knowledge.
As embarrassing as it was, most people were really nice about it, accommodating and polite, and she was eternally grateful for that. Even when she’d been staggering for the bathrooms and trying to cover the front of her jeans, people pretended not to know what was going on.
Girls had heard her masturbating in the bathrooms, and no one had ever said anything bad. A couple of girls had been really sweet and tried to help her.
No one had said anything, but she knew it made the boys uncomfortable. They liked her, going out of their way to be accommodating for her and enjoying being with her, but she could tell. They knew about her horniness and it made them uncomfortable.
Not everyone was so nice about it.
There had been a boy who’d aroused her on purpose. He’d whispered to her that he wanted to tie her up in the bedroom and do erotic things to her, and then he’d taken his shirt off right there in the library, to the amusement of his two friends who’d been watching.
Despite all her efforts, her penis had gone from flaccid to raging hard, faster than normal. It had been difficult to stand up she’d wanted sex so much. Images of that boy having sex with her had blazed across her mind.
As she’d gone to run, staggering and begging him to stop, he’d stolen the sweatshirt she wore around her waist, inviting her to play keep away with him. She’d asked him – begged him for it back, and he’d said no, and so she’d gone for the bathroom without it, barely able to control herself and holding onto the wall, her erection as clear as day under her skirt, turning it into a huge tent for everyone to see.