“This is pathetic,” I thought to myself as I wrapped my fist around my crown and rubbed it. I groaned, my stomach tensing. Really pathetic.
The last time I touched myself, I was a boy—a pathetic, overweight boy with a head filled with fantasies, fantasies that would have never come true.
And now I was grown and I was stroking my c**k to the thought of a woman. And so the pathetic act begins again.
I stroked slowly, from crown to base and back again, my foreskin pulling back and precum dripping out every time it did. It wet my d**k, and I used it as lubricant, my breath hitching as my hand moved smoothly. While I was doing this pathetic act, there were only two things on my mind: how utterly pathetic this was, and Isabella.
I thought of the look in her eyes earlier, and that one tea
