The Massage Chair
The other day I went to my local mall, hoping to escape from the brutal summer heat. Just walking through the parking lot was enough to work up a sweat; by the time I got inside, the front of my light cotton T-shirt was wet enough that my dark chest hair showed through the fabric. I was hoping to buy a new set of gym clothes, but I didn’t want to look like I had come straight from a workout, so I decided to sit on a bench and let my shirt dry a bit first. As I walked over to the food court, a row of massage chairs caught my eye. My muscles were pretty sore that day, and I thought it would help me relax. Little did I know that I would end up humiliating myself in front of a bunch of strangers not 15 minutes later. The chair was $3 for 15 minutes, which seemed worth a shot, so I sat down in the middle chair and fed my three dollars bills in. I sat back in the sleek leather seat and positioned my arms and legs in the slots allotted for them. The armrests were set rather wide, and I found I had to arch my back and spread my arms a bit to reach them, which pulled the sleeves of my shirt tight to my body, exposing my crop of dark pit hair. When the machine whirred to life and the massage started, I was surprised to find out that the chair had several pockets that filled with air and tightened around me. I found it pretty much impossible to move my ankles, and it had tightened around my wrists as well. However, that wasn’t the only problem. I had read online somewhere that abstaining from jerking off made your workouts better, so I was on day three of absolutely zero release, which was pretty much a new record for me. The vibrations running through the chair began to get me hard almost instantly. That day I was wearing an old pair of boxers under a pair of grey sweatpants, so there wasn’t much resistance down there, and I watched in horror as my growing semi started to make a visible bulge. I shifted a bit in the chair, trying to get into a less compromising position, but then my situation got even worse; all my shifting caused my semi to flop out of the front of my boxers and rub directly against the soft lining of my sweats. Meanwhile, the massage chair was rubbing my thighs, my back, my aching biceps, my whole body so perfectly. I should have been in heaven, but I was in hell. Freed from its cotton prison, my cock stiffened to a full erection that tented my sweats out prominently. Nervous sweat dripped from my forehead, down my back, and from my hairy pits. Already there was a drop of precum forming on the tip of the tent I was pitching- and boy was I pitching one. My cock stuck straight up in my sweats, and I couldn’t move my hands to re-position it. I checked the timer- there was still more than ten minutes left! I couldn’t believe that I had boned up so fast. I felt pathetic. Even worse was the crowd that began to gather. The mall was never crowded on weekday afternoons, and today was no exception. However, the row of massage chairs was right in front of a large sporting goods store at the end of the mall complex, so there were a few guys milling about the area. My massive tent seemed to have caught the attention of a few of them, and they looked like they were calling their friends over, too. My cock was visibly throbbing now, a river of precum sliding down the outside. My heavy balls ached. I had to get out before I got even more excited. I squirmed some more in the chair, trying to at least slip my arms out. My t-shirt rode up as I tried to slide down, exposing my thick treasure trail. Worse, all my movement was just making my cock rub against my sweats more, a feeling that was too good to ignore. I still had a little over five minutes left on the timer. A big group of guys were watching now, and I saw more than a few cell phone cameras pointed my way. My face was bright red, but I had nowhere to hide. The timer reached five minutes left, and the back of the chair reclined suddenly- not a lot, but enough to thrust my hips further forward, my cock now straining at the material of my sweats. I felt another jet of precum soak my sweats and I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I was going to cum in my sweats right here in the mall, in front of a bunch of guys my age, because I didn’t have the stamina to hold my load after only three measly days of not jerking off. My hips bucked a few times, my cock twitching like crazy as my load rose in my shaft. I began to thrash around, hoping to spare myself some humiliation, but it was not to be. The soft fabric of my sweatpants was massaging my cockhead more and more each sweaty, precum-drenched second, and I couldn’t take it any longer. With a low groan, my hips bucked hard and I lost all control. I threw my head back as a hard orgasm washed over me, and my cock began to fill my sweatpants with a thick, overdue load. I watched helplessly as spurt after spurt of creamy white jizz seeped through the fabric, staining the crotch of my sweatpants a dark grey. I couldn’t help but let a moan or two loose- the feeling of blowing a load while getting a full body massage was incredible. The crowd was going wild, and one guy was laughing so hard that I thought he might pass out. My orgasm over, I flopped back in my seat, my energy fully spent, and I waited for the timer to run out. My shirt was soaked in sweat, and my sweats were soaked in jizz. My boner showed no signs of deflating, and was still going strong at full mast when the chair finally released me a minute later. I wasted no time in getting out of there, tucking my boner up in my waistband and heading downstairs. I drew quite a few eyes on the way out- I was red-faced humiliated, and the bulge of my persistent erection was only barely concealed. The moment I was out the door, I whipped my sweaty shirt off and tucked into my waistband in order to hide the sticky, telltale stain. It felt good to air out my pits in the summer sun, and when I got back to my car, I stripped my sweats off and gave my boner the same treatment. I drove home in my boxers, my cock eventually softening up during the drive. It only took me a half hour to get home, but my the time I got back and rinsed myself off under the backyard hose, the video of me shooting a load in my sweatpants was already making the rounds online, and had a couple thousand views. The comments were pouring in, mocking my predicament and my critical lack of stamina. As I read through them, my cock began to once again stiffen to full mast…
