A Cure for a hard day's work
Adult stuff. Male masturbation. 18 years of age.
~nikolai
He sat quietly tucked away in a corner, tapping on his keyboard, engrossed in a world all his own. He didn't notice the busy-bodies around him, answering phones, alphabetizing redundant papers, and pushing money from one corner of the company to another. Right now, he was focused on finishing this project proposal before the end of the day. If he didn't finish it, it wouldn't go through until next week, and being the goal-oriented lion he is, he was determined to finish.
The proposal was actually quite brilliant in its simplicity. The company he worked for was founded in the '50's, but as time went on and the products and services evolved, the tracking system never really changed that much. It was a new world, and it required a new method for sales, order, and purchase tracking. He was certain that his idea would streamline the company, cut down costs, and probably land him a nice raise, maybe even a promotion. Truth is, he really couldn't care less whether the company succeeded or failed; as long as he got paid and got a job and had the opportunity for upward mobility, he was a content kitty. He just so happened to have a knack for simplification and streamlining things.
His typing grew more furious as time went on, and page after page just spilled out onto the screen, his report growing at an increasing pace. Luckily for him, he was also gifted with a sense of eloquence, and didn't have to stop and proofread too often. He was certain of what he said: he was to the point, he was direct, and he was descriptive. A slight sheen started to come into his mane, as he even started to perspire he was so anxious to finish. Finally, he reached the last line, and with such force as to create a starting click throughout the immediate area, he smashed the enter key as he sent the document to the printer.
He nearly bumped into a half-dozen furs as he scrambled to the printer. But upon arrival, he was perplexed...where was his report? And that's when he saw it....a blinking red light indicating a paper jam. He tugged at his mane in utter frustration - just when he was about to make it, now he has to deal with this stupid printer.
He rushed through checking all of the panels and slots, and was bewildered. He had no idea where this jam was? He pushed nearly every button, and followed the directions, but it just was no use. He didn't want to turn off the machine, but if he reset it, there may just be a chance he could rescue his job from the queue. He reluctantly flipped the switch off, and then on.
He waited for the printer to boot up with baited breath and when the green screen was steady there was.....nothing. The entire queue was gone. But wait...he heard the printer processing. Maybe it'll print it anyway.
To his uttermost dismay, the printer spit out nothing but blanks. He dashed back to his computer to attempt to print it from another machine, and luckily, this time it printed without any fanfare. He put the 30 page report in a clear plastic binder, and merrily made his way to the company mail room. He had to get it in there before 5 so that it would make it into processing and be on his manager's desk by Monday.
He waited at the elevator to make the descent to the lobby floor where the mail room was. He nervously glanced at his watch, 4:56. As if he could cut it any closer, he thought. He impatiently waited for the elevator to come to his floor, the 10th; the other furs eyed him cautiously as he sat there tapping his foot rapidly, and then practically jumped into the cab. He jammed the 1st floor button what must have easily been 10 times, though it hastened the elevator none.
The elevator stopped at floor 9 to pick up more passengers. "Okay, I have time yet", he thought. And then they stopped at floor 8, and the lion could feel his heart start to pound. He just wasn't used to cutting things so close, and when he wanted something, he was damned determine to succeed. And again the elevator stopped, on floor 7. He audibly growled in his chest, his dismay apparent to everyone else in the small cab. And then floor 6. And then floor 5 he had had enough. He dashed out of the small box filled with inconsiderate people and practically jumped down the stairs. He pushed passed other people making their way down, and upon bursting from the stair entrance, nearly checked a few furs who had the unfortunate luck to be in his way.
He arrived at the mail room and tried to open and unlatch the door at the same time, but in reality only managed to smash into it. Locked up tight. He glanced at his watch with utter disbelief. 5:03. He pounded on the door, but no answer from within, and the lights were dark. He cursed and shouted, and people around stepped back nervously. After a good 30 second string of expletives, he backed away from the door and sullenly returned to his floor to gather his things. He placed the report in his desk drawer and reluctantly turned off his computer.
He drove home, just wrapped up in his stressed mood. He had so wanted to impress his superiors with his prowess and skill and timeliness above all else. And now, all of his rushing was for nothing. He could feel his blood pumping in his veins; he was seriously stressed.
He walked into his apartment slowly and forcefully, and just dropped his jacket, bags, and mail right in the entrance after he closed the door. He stepped a few feet forward, and removed his tie and dropped it where he stood. He sighed, walked the 15 or so feet to his sofa in front of his television, and just fell on it. He sat there idly staring at the blank screen for about 15 minutes. After he came back to reality, he let out a long sigh, and had to strain to drag himself up off of the couch and into his bedroom. He needed a shower. His little stint rushing around the crowded office bullpen had him sweating, and while the musky scent wasn't that noticeable, he just didn't feel clean.
So he stood, and yanked his clothes off of his tense form. He was concerned that his fur may be a little matted or such, so he trotted his naked body over in front of his full-length mirror on his door. He poked and prodded his body, especially where ever sweat could accumulate, and often did. He was sufficiently satisfied that he wasn't too worse for wear, and took a second to inspect his body. He wasn't fit, or fat. He was what he would shyly call "slightly above average".
He made it to the gym probably once a week, at most. So he wasn't really defined. He was defined. If he tensed his stomach, you could see the very faint outline of abs. His arms were respectable thickness, but not exactly breaking out of his shirt. And his chest was...his chest. He had pecs, but so does everyone. You could see his, of course, and there wasn't fat on top of them, but he wasn't bench pressing his own weight. He was a 6' tall, average lion. Light brown fur, with a tawny brown mane, and a little tawny brown on his chest.
Oh yes, and some tawny brown fur leading from his navel down to his pubic area. This was probably the part of himself that he enjoyed most. He was above average in this area, and it gave him such pleasure. He cupped his full, large balls in his right paw, and rolled them in his fingers. He purred slightly as he pleasured himself. He hadn't done this in a while, and the stress of the day just made relaxing like this feel so much better. He smirked a wicked smile as he saw the head of his cock poke out of his sheath. It telescoped, but didn't really harden, down over his heavy sac. He tugged on it a few times, getting the full, flaccid 9" out of his sheath.
He reluctantly let go of his genitals, and walked into his bathroom and started the shower. He let the shower steam up while he got his toiletries ready. He always liked to take care of himself, and his grooming wasn't the least of his priorities. After a few moments, the bathroom mirror over his sink started to fog, so he assumed it was time to enter the shower. He stepped in and purred loudly at how good the strong jets of hot water felt against his tense body. He leaned against the wall as the shower jet pelted his body with its massaging streams.
He slowly worked some speciality shampoo, one of his guilty indulgences, into his pelt. He worked up a thick lather all over his body. He scrubbed everywhere, his mane, his chest, his legs, his rear, and especially his genitals. His 9" cock, still out of its sheath, started to harden as he lathered his groin, his balls, and his perineum. He flicked a finger over the star of his tail-hole, but decided that he needn't get soap up there. He grinned as he felt the uncomfortable jolt as he accidentally rammed the cold, tile wall with his fully erect cock. He stroked it quickly up and down and few times before continuing on with his ritual. After he rinsed the shampoo out, it was a similar routine with the conditioner.
He stepped out of the shower sopping wet, and immediately toweled himself off lest he get too cold. He got himself fairly dry, though he still felt damp, and proceeded to sue a hair-dryer to finish the job. He stood naked and erect in front of his sink as he brushed his teeth. He needn't cover up - why should he? He was the only one in his little apartment, and it's not like he didn't enjoy being in the nude.
He had been toying with the idea of pawing off since he played with his balls in front of the mirror, but the urgent throbbing of his cock decided the debate for him. He spit out the last of the toothpaste in the sink, wiped his mouth, and made his way to his bedroom to take care of business.
He swaggered into his room, spartan save for the posters and art-prints and other things he hung on his walls, with his erection swaying in step to his movements in front of him, leading the way. He slid onto his queen-size bed, and got comfortable in the middle. He splayed his legs, allowing his balls to hang in between his legs unrestricted. He reached down with his left hand, and cupped them, rolling them gently. Every so often, he would tug them away from his body, and squeeze firmly, sending a tiny jolt of electricity up his spine, making his cock jump.
From the prolonged ministrations, his cock had now begun to emit its first bead of pre-cum. He took his index finger and gently smeared it around his cock head, closing his eyes momentarily as he shuddered at the intense sensation from such a direct stimulation.
He gripped his thick shaft tightly at the base, making the veins on the organ pop out, the head growing even darker and the ridge becoming more prominent. Pre-cum began to leak more consistently now, and the amount only increased as he continued to play with his balls and squeeze his cock, causing it to swell.
He grasped the shaft in the middle, with loose but firm strokes he stimulated it gently and slowly. He slowly worked his right paw closer and closer to the head, every so often bumping into the ridge. He placed his fist right under the ridge, and began to twist his hand around his cock. He purred loudly at this, and his cock elicited a copious amount of pre-cum.
As his cock began to get more and more agitated, so did he. His cock grew redder, and throbbed more insistently. He squirmed on the bed, splaying his legs even further apart and thrusting his hips into his paw. He tossed his head side to side, and bit his lip as his torso undulated on the bed.
His left paw still played with his heavy balls, now aching to release their seed, but it slowly traveled downward. He tickled himself under his balls and above his tail-hole. He pressed himself there, stimulating his prostrate gland from the outside, causing his cock to jump in his other paw, leaking pre-cum like a faucet now. His right paw began to get into a steady, strong rhythm, his tight grip lubed by his cock's secretion gliding from the very base of his cock, nestled in his pubic fur, to his cockhead, twisting over the oversensitive tip.
Slowly but surely, his left paw digits start to prode his tail-hole, but the resistance was great. He found that as excited as he was, he still needed lube. He brought his left paw up to his maw, hanging open with his thick, wide tongue lolling out and stuck two fingers in. He lathered his digits with his paw, and once good and sloppy-wet, he began to prode his tail-hole again, albeit more insistently. WIth a gasp, he penetrated himself, and wiggled a single finger in. He prodded and searched, and eventually found that magical spot buried deep inside him, and moaned out loud as an electrifying wave of pleasure swept over his sex-racked body.
His right paw continued to stroke his cock, and was now flying up and down the turgid organ, and filled the room with the unmistakable sound of masturbation. He slowly added a second finger to his first, and soon, they were both working on his sensitive bulb of a prostate. Soon, he was full-out finger fucking. His toes curled as he bucked his hips with each thrust of his left wrist, furthering the pleasure as he bucked into his own, expert paw.
His moans were constant now, just a slow of indecipherable guttural mutterings. Occasionally, one could make out a random expletive. His paw was a blur now on his stiff cock, squeezing his cock rhythmically in time with the finger fucking he was receiving at his own hand.
Suddenly, and without warning, he felt his climax. It started in his balls. The pulled up tight against the base of his cock and began to churn as his right hand smashed into the heavy orbs on each down-thrust. He felt his tight passage clamp down sporadically on his saliva-soaked digits as they invaded his body and prodded his most sensitive place. He finally felt his cock throb violently in his hand as it swelled finally. He bucked his hips up, his ass a good two inches off the bed and his body in an incline as his cock spewed thick, white ropes of come on his body. His fingers stopped, pressed hard against his prostate, his left-thumb pushed into his testicles, and his right paw in a vice-grip around the ridge of his cock head, jerking up and down extremely quick but only covering a tiny distance, stimulating the nerves in the ridge of his cock head and his frenulum. They smashed into his face, splattering his maw and chin and mane, and then as they continued, they soaked his chest, stomach, groin and eventually they just oozed out of the thick tube of flesh, over-sensitive to the slightest touch.
He shot a good 8 ropes of thick cum, some of it still oozing out of his cock. He felt relaxed, and not stressed as he had before as he laid on the bed, his cock deflating, his balls recovering, and his ass clamping around the void as his fingers departed. He panted deep breaths for a good few minutes, before slowly closing his eyes and drifting off into a brief sleep, still covered in his own seed.
When he awoke 10 minutes later, still relishing the lingering feelings of his after glow, he looked down his chest and admired his handiwork. He licked his lips and could taste himself, and saw his cum splatters on his chest and torso. He glimpsed his cockhead as it retreated to its warm, sheathed home. He sighed and put his head back down, staring idly at the ceiling before resolving that he will need yet another shower. He smirked a prideful smirk to himself as he got up and sauntered off to the bathroom.