130 days denied and I never want it to end

My last orgasm was December 19th last year. That's 130 of pure, agonizing bliss locked away in my swollen balls. I'm a dripping, desperate mess. Every single day of this denial ratchets up the need, turning me into a throbbing, cum bloated slave to my own cock. I crave it, worship it, like nothing else. The buildup is intoxicating, that heavy ache deep in my sack where all that thick, pent up seed is churning, bubbling, demanding release. But I deny it. I fucking love denying it.



My cock is perpetually rock hard, straining against my pants like a caged animal. It leaks constantly, clear, sticky precum soaking my underwear, leaving wet spots I have to hide in public. One wrong brush of fabric, and I'm twitching, hips bucking involuntarily. My mind? Corrupted beyond repair. Horny 24/7, every thought spirals into filth. I edge for hours every day, stroking that veiny shaft slow and teasing, feeling the head swell purple and slick, balls tightening like they're about to burst. But I stop. Always. The denial hits like a drug, better than any nut ever could.



Only slip up was a wet dream a month in, woke up to sheets soaked in my shameful cum, hating myself but harder than ever after. Since then? Zero orgasms. Clean, total denial. My body's betraying me in the hottest ways, nipples hypersensitive, ass clenching at nothing, prostate throbbing with unspent load. In public, it's torture porn. Eyes glued to cleavage spilling out of low cut tops, imagining burying my face in those soft tits while my denied dick pulses. Tight asses in yoga pants? I stare like a perv, cock twitching, fantasizing about spreading those cheeks and grinding my leaking tip against them, no relief, just more ache.



Summer's rolling in, and oh god, the torment's about to peak. Girls in bikinis, short shorts riding up sweaty cracks, tank tops clinging to hard nipples. I'll be leaking rivers, balls blue and bloated, every breeze on my skin a tease. Strangers' curves will haunt me, turning grocery runs into edging sessions in my head. I love it. This denial owns me, corroding my willpower, making me a needy, precum drooling beta who lives for the edge.