My thick white jumper hung from my frame, slightly overlong for me, each side drooping over opposite ends of the chair. Trousers, as is the custom, lay in a heap around my ankles, pants (not the fertility-protecting kind) resting in the same space. I'd left my socks on... for I like my feet warm.
My right thumb and forefinger were curled around my cock as it pulsed and twitched in my hand. Masturbating with the curtains open in the middle of the day may seem a little inappropriate to the casual observer, but there's no way of anyone seeing me, considering the position of our flat and what or window looks on. There weren't going to be any casual observers.
I'd been going for a while, coaxing my penis up into the slightly curved, thick shaft that I'm so familiar with, every contour brushing against my palm - warm, inviting; comforting, almost. Hours of intense frustration and repetition, even without a working internet as an effective distraction. I needed this. This was my relief. I leaned back as far as I could in my chair, ready for the orgasm.
It was building up in my stomach. I could feel the rush, feel my balls tighten up and pulse, everything coming to a head. I steadied myself, ready to lose control.
My sleeve started to snake its way down towards my hand...
...instinctively, I removed my hand to shake the sleeve back, lest it get marked by errant cum...
...and them the orgasm hit.
My body didn't know what to do with such a sudden loss of stimulus at the point of climax. With more of a whimper than a bang, I came, but with much less jizz than there usually is. One or two pulsations, but less than satisfying ones, and by the time I got my hand back around my shaft, it was over. I'd lost my stimulus and had an orgasm nothing more than functional.
I was still in the room. I hadn't even managed to let go of my surroundings, as I so often do. My penis lay, useless, limp, in my lap, my body beating with anxiety and my head screaming in frustrated despair. And all because of one second where I let go, for the sake of my jumper.
My dreams overnight were full of grasping at the air trying to reach something that I couldn't quite catch and locked doors that wouldn't quite open for me to get through...
...but at least my jumper's still clean.