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David’s Erotic Diary – Pushing Myself Faster

I couldn’t stop thinking about the last time. The way my cock leaked thick fluid before I even had a grip on it, the way I blasted across the room with barely any build-up — it stayed with me for days. So the next time I had a free lunch hour, I went straight back to that same office. Same dust, same silence, same risk. But this time I wasn’t just looking for release. I wanted to see how fast I could make myself cum.

I had the plan in my head before I even shut the door. I laid paper towels down again, a habit now, and lowered my pants. My cock was half-hard already, heavy and eager, swinging against my thigh. Just standing there, exposed in that quiet space, my heart was pounding. I told myself: Don’t drag it out. Push it.

I started with one fingertip. Just a soft brush along the frenulum, that sensitive spot under the head. The reaction was instant. A jolt shot through me, and in seconds, my cock started weeping thick, clear fluid. I kept the touches light, teasing, sliding the slickness around the tip. I could feel my balls tightening already, way too soon, but that was the point.

By the time I gripped the shaft, I was already close. My cock throbbed in my hand, thickening, pulsing, begging to explode. I gave it two strokes — two slow, deliberate pulls from base to tip — and that was enough. I leaned back, tightened my Kegel muscle, and let go.

The orgasm ripped through me almost violently. The first spurt shot so hard it smacked against the drywall two feet in front of me. I groaned out, gripping my shaft tight, and another thick rope followed, splattering across the paper towels on the floor. My cock twitched and pulsed, spraying again, less distance this time but just as wet.

All of this — from pants down to orgasm — couldn’t have been more than a minute. Maybe less. I laughed to myself as I milked the last drops out, thick semen coating my fingers, dripping down my shaft. My body had just proven how sensitive I was, how little it took to set me off when I was in that space.

Cleanup was quick — paper towels soaked, tossed into the trash pile nearby. But walking back to work, I felt different. Proud, almost. Like I’d unlocked another part of myself. I’d always been able to edge, to hold back when I wanted. But this? This was raw, uncontrollable, messy release. And I liked it.

The thrill wasn’t just in the orgasm. It was in knowing I could get myself off that quickly, like a switch. The risk, the forbidden place, the fact that I was timing myself against my own sensitivity. It turned into a kind of game.

And I knew then — I’d be back again. Next time, not just to see how fast I could cum… but to see if I could do it again and again, draining myself completely in that one hour.