After aa particularly karge cumshot shattered her bedroom window, the futa became so embarrassed of the whole ordeal and developed an anxiety for cumming. After a week of not masturbating she was unable to hold back and started jerking herself off. Just before the grand finale her anxiety kicked in and she stopped just before release. She was able to stave off masturbating for a while again but when the need arose once more, she had to edge again. Anytime this happens the near release increases the size of her balls and only exacerbates her anxiety and horniness. If she continues edging like she does, just the growthrate of her nuts will be more damaging than her original loads could have ever been.
The trouble with edging is... it doesn't really grant any serious relief. It just keeps you feeling more and more pent up.
Yeah, the touching feels nice... and even the feeling of increased need can feel nice — but that's just it... the need grows.
Holding off for a week is difficult... but then capping that off by jerking yourself just a hair's breadth from finishing? That's a recipe for staying hard and leaky.
Even after managing to calm down; getting semi-flaccid... you still end up hard again from just the movement of your own fat nuts brushing against your thighs.
You've got to take care of yourself. But you definitely can't let loose now. You'll do more than shatter a few windows... you'll end up knocking down walls.
Your hands are already wrapped around your cock.
ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ···
Wait — when did you open Bluesky. You know full well there's nothing but porn in your feed. No wonder you're jerking it again. You've got.... to..... be better at controlling these urges.
Despite the twitching of your cock, and the ache of your overloaded nuts... you do actually manage to stop right before orgasm, again.
Hands squeezing the base of your shaft as your nuts clench with wave after wave of nutsludge that won't be going anywhere anytime soon. The weight between your legs growing heavier with each heaving convulsion.
It takes far longer, this time, to calm yourself down again, than it had the day before.
Your nuts are not just fat, they test on top of your thighs with more weight than most women's ass cheeks.
It's only two hours later that your rumbling, sloshing cum factories, slapping against your thighs, once again seem to hijack your conscious thought.
You catch yourself mindlessly sliding pre-soaked hands over the length of your swollen meat-stick.
ᴼʳ··· ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵗˡʸ··· ᵐᵉᵃᵗ ˡᵒᵍ
Porn blasting at full volume from your phone in a public restroom. What snaps you out of your disassociative trance-like state is the loud, wet slap of a fist-sized glob of thick precum landing into a growing puddle of your ooze between your feet.
The tip of your own cock is so close to your face. You'd only need to bend yourself down just a tiny bit to get a taste —
You... you need to get out of here before someone gets in..... before someone gets a full-body money shot.
Your eyes catch sight of your phone screen. Live footage of someone bathing in a waterfull of... what has to be fake cum... probably fake, at least.
She looks to the camera and begs you to paint her, right now.
You extinctively grip hold of your cock, pressing your hands against your swollen nuts. Your indix fingers don't even meet each other as you squeeze around your girth with all the willpower you can muster.
You can't even stop the livestream or lock your phone. Your hands are stuck where they are until you can calm down.
More and more translucent white ooze flows down, from out of frame, onto the streamer. You looze sight of her more detailed features, but can still make out her curves under the endless flow of pearly white slime.
This could be your doing. This should be your doing.
You cannot avert your gaze
After minutes... or possibly hours of barely keeping it together, the live feed finally cuts, freeing you from temptation. It is quite a while longer, still, after the stream ende, that your nuts continue to repeatedly tighten and throb against your white-knuckled grip.
When you finally release your hands from your, likely, never to become fully flaccid cock, gallons of pre splash over your nuts.
When you stand, you hear the creaking of wood and the whining of overstressed metal fasteners. Your nuts have been pressing against either side of the toilet stall you've been hiding in. Most of the bolts holding the stall in place have been ripped out of the tile floor. The small cubical shifts and sways as you step forward, attempting to come-along with you.
It's only because of the natural lubricant coating your ballsack and the few remaining bolts fastening the stall to the rear wall that you're able to squeeze yourself through the frame of your half-destroyed prison.
You see yourself in the mirror, nuts nearly dragging along the floor. Cock pointed directly at your pre-drenched reflection as it continuously oozes more and more onto the thoroughly coated restroom floor.
Maybe you should start looking into some place to safely... and privately empty your nuts properly... before things truly get out of hand.
ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᶠᵃʳ··· ᶠᵃʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳᵉ
