I
"Goddammit!" came the hushed but exasperated cry of online gaming defeat. After an hour and some odd minutes of Bombing Run gameplay for Unreal Tournament 2003, the violent clash had ended. It was an oldie, but a goodie, Sebastian reckoned, despite his team getting their asses handed to them tonight. His team held a significant lead throughout the first half of the match, but struggled to keep up with the other side once they found their footing.
Oh well, at least he could breathe again; those last ten minutes had been nerve-racking. He slumped back into his office chair and his neck and back muscles thanked him. Yawning, Sebastian took the last swig of his energy drink and tossed the empty can in the wastebasket beside his computer desk.
All the other members of the private room went back and forth with 'good games' and other various accolades for standout moments in the brutal competition. Sebastian made light conversation and excused himself from the server. He pulled the gaming headphones and mic from his head and cracked his neck and let out a deep sigh. His body was still tense and he was still too wide awake to curl up into bed, despite the comfy mattress and inviting blankets. And he definitely had had his fill of groups of people, even faceless voices and text chats.
What to do now?
His body knew exactly what it wanted…what it needed. The same thing it craved before sleep after spending several hours online all alone in his dark and secluded basement dwelling.
He felt his cock stiffen. His shaft slid up his right thigh and the top of the head pressed against the dark fabric of his pajama pants and tented. Sebastian leaned back further in his chair and brought his left hand into his lap. His middle- and ring-finger, separated from his sensitive flesh by two layers of cotton, glided in circles counterclockwise on the under-side of the head of his penis while the thumb put gentle pressure near the base of the shaft. Sebastian bit down on his lip and stifled a moan. Rolling his hips in the same direction, he pressed down harder and sped up the motion of his fingers. His cock throbbed and grew longer and pressed up against his palm. Warm precum leaked through his boxers and pajama pants and coated his fingertips.
The pleasure was building…building…
Sebastian pulled himself free with his right hand and used it to stroke himself. His left hand gripped tight around the base and hooked around his balls. His cock swelled up even more. He was getting close. A few seconds later, Sebastian's hips pushed forward again and again, going against the motions of his hand. A small sound escaped the back of his through and he grunted as he came.
The first spasm coated his entire tip with a thick glob of cum, the second and third contractions sent the next shots up and over his knuckles, and the subsequent waves of pleasure oozed out and coated his fingers.
Sebastian lay back in his chair, not quite to the tipping point, and breathed heavily as his member softened. Fuck, he needed that.
He searched for some tissues and cleaned himself up. He stood up, tugged down on himself to get the last of it out (he fucking hated the feeling of it dripping out and coldly clinging to his leg and inside of his pants). When he was satisfied that there was nothing left, he wadded up the Kleenex and tossed it in the bin.
One more nightly ritual and he was as good as gold for sleep. He reached for his pack of smokes stashed in one of the cubby holes on his desk and fished it out. Only one to go…oh well, it was all he needed. Sebastian put the cigarette between his lips and headed up the stairs and went out into the cool autumn air.