Tuesday, 7 August 2018


I lay down on the bed last night and pulsed.

Throughout the day, I'd been in a number of varying states of wakefulness. I was unbelievably tired when I left for work in the morning, and during the break (it was a split shift, so I had a long break), I was so exhausted I practically passed out. I woke up stressed, got back to work feeling nervous, and by the time I got into the swing of things, my energy made a sudden and unexpected re-emergence.

I'm not sure early starts are the best thing for me.

Anyway, by the time I got home, I wasn't tired any more. Hungry, yes - but there was pizza. I certainly wasn't tired. I sat in the lounge (WE HAVE A LOUNGE!) on the sofa (WE HAVE A SOFA!) watching American Dad!, and idly wondered - ironically, considering how I felt a few hours prior - how I was going to get to sleep. Anyone would have seen that I clearly needed it.

I turned the television off, stripped, and picked my way to the bathroom. Sitting there, I felt the urge, and something told me the time was right. I put Justice League International Vol. 3 away, took a deep breath in, then ran a hand down the skin of my chest and through the hair on my belly, feeling myself beginning to stir and grow and...


Twenty minutes later. I stumbled my way through the pitch-black bedroom (it has a curtain: a luxury the lounge has yet to procure), lying on the bed in the sleepy haze of post-orgasmic fog.

Thud. Thud. Thud. My ear, pressed to the pillow, filled with the sound of an incredibly heavy heartbeat. As I began to pay more attention to the rhythm (I am a nervous man with an easily-distracted brain), I gradually became more aware that my entire body, not just my heart (and my penis), was pulsing. Blood was coursing through me at a rapid rate - the orgasm having increased my hearrt rate and not yet settled down - and my body, naturally quite sensitive anyway but more so now, was throbbing powerfully in time with every single heartbeat.

And I do mean powerfully. I wasn't moving a muscle, and yet I was still moving. Each beat was like a tiny jump; my body was shaking, my hands balled into fists and my forehead beaded with sweat. I felt vulnerable, but in a safe place - like a layer had been peeled back. Raw, exposed, and lying there, rhythmically pulsing. It was as if all of me had decided to be as one - and, at that moment, I realised that I wouldn't be moving any more during the night. I was just to lie there - my throb and I - until sleep managed to take me.

And finally, after a day of uncertainty and restless tiredness, I slept well last night.

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