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Warning - certain readers may require a cold shower immediately after viewing this chapter.  (I know I did after writing it!) Be prepared!  TAG


Justin had never been this horny in his entire life.

He’d been ecstatic with his new plaything. Like a kid on Christmas morning, he couldn’t wait to try it out. First thing that morning he had reviewed Brian’s instructions carefully, and followed them explicitly, step-by-excruciatingly-erotic-step. He’d had the stimulating little toy firmly inserted in his ass ever since he’d left for school at 10:00 am that morning. Every single tiny movement he’d made since then had caused the plug to twist or turn or slide across his prostate. After more than six hours of almost constant stimulation however, he was sure his testicles were in imminent danger of exploding. He’d passed exhausted and painful hours ago. He desperately needed to cum, but Brian’s directions had been very clear – he was NOT allowed to touch himself until given explicit permission by Brian himself (that part had been written in all caps and underlined twice, so he knew Brian was serious). So, here he was, standing in the lobby with his legs splayed slightly apart and his forehead braced against the wall, trying not to move. If Brian didn’t get there soon, he’d probably pass out or start to bawl or both. He couldn’t even think coherently anymore so he just stood there, waiting.

‘Clank’. It was the most exquisite sound Justin had ever heard. He gingerly pushed his body away from the wall, reached up (oh, shit – he’d moved again), and yanked the door of the box open. What he discovered inside though was not at all what he’d expected. Instead of the usual letter, Justin saw a thick, khaki-brown cigar with a blue band around it’s middle. He pulled it out and examined the band, which proudly announced:

Gus Peterson-Marcus
September 6, 1999
7 lbs., 4 oz.

“Huh?” was the only comment Justin was capable of at that point.

The poor confused boy just stood there waiting for some explanation to materialize. He had no paper and nothing to write with – those things were both in his messenger bag which he’d dropped on the floor immediately after entering the building. There was absolutely no way he was going to attempt to bend over to retrieve them. So he stood there and concentrated on breathing without exploding.

After about five minutes or so, there was another ‘clank’ and, thank the heavens, a piece of paper appeared in the mailbox. It read:

-Justin – are you there? Aren’t you going to congratulate me? I’m a Dad! Can you believe it? Brian.

“Huh?” was again the only possible response from the incapacitated blond.

Okay, he had paper now but still no pen. He didn’t want Brian to think he wasn’t here and leave – the possibility brought tears to his eyes.

God, he was going to have to bend over and dig a pen out of his bag. That thought alone was daunting and he gave in to the tears he had been holding back until now.

At that moment, he glimpsed what he was sure was the most beautiful sight in the entire world – one of his fellow tenants was entering the building. He looked over at the woman from #3B (Gail?) with his tear-stained face and cried out to her, “Please, do you have a pen I could borrow”? Helen (not Gail) wasn’t sure if the man was injured or insane, but since she wasn’t prepared to investigate further, she rapidly dug through her purse and handed Justin a black ‘Bic’ pen then backed suspiciously towards the elevator. Justin merely blinked his appreciation at the kind woman – it was all he was capable of.

As quickly as he could, Justin scribbled out, 'Please, can I cum?,' and shoved the paper back into the box.

The reply, thankfully, was almost immediate.

-You’ve been playing with your new toy, haven’t you? You are a very naughty boy, Justin. Yes, you can go ahead and touch yourself. B.

A huge moan escaped Justin’s lips as he read the words. He didn’t stop to think that he was in the lobby of the building, that it was a public space, and he didn’t care if anybody saw him. His mind was beyond caring about anything other than getting release. Leaning his forehead against the wall once again, he unzipped his jeans, pulled out his dick and frantically began to rub up and down his aching shaft. He had expected to cum almost instantly – it was the thing he had been longing for most of the day. But, he was so over-stimulated, so keyed-up, that he couldn’t cum at first. The tears were streaming down his cheeks harder than ever at this disheartening discovery. Just as he was about to give up all hope, sink to the ground in a puddle and let his body disintegrate, he felt an electric shock of pain and pleasure flow out of his aching balls, cascading through his entire body and causing his head to jerk back with a primal groan. His entire body spasmed. His cum shot out, covering the wall next to the mailboxes. His knees began to shake and he sank to the floor, still crying and moaning out incomprehensibly.

Justin didn’t know how many minutes passed as he lay huddled on the lobby’s hard linoleum floor. He thought he might have actually slept (his pride wouldn’t let him use the term, ‘passed out’) for a short period of time. When he finally realized where he was, he used his hands to pull himself erect by grabbing onto the projections created by the bank of postal boxes over his head. He could still feel the butt plug inside him, but he was once again able to move without fear of explosion.


When Brian finally received a reply from the other side of time, the cum-splattered note said only: Thank you. I love you. J.

He realized his big news would have to wait until his beautiful blond lover had recovered. He headed up to his own bed with a lecherous gleam in his eye and an ear-to-ear grin on his face.



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