Caught with Your Trousers Down Around Your Ankles: It Can Happen To You

My penis has a mind of it’s own. Seriously. Sticks straight up like it’s saluting her Majesty any bloody time of the day it wants. Sometimes it’s a plus, like at the pub at the end of the night when the drunken birds grope their way through the crowd looking for a hook-up. Because of my perpetual hard-on, I’m usually the one they stop at. Lucky me.

But it can be a pain in me bum as well, like when I’m on the Underground trying to chat up a bird proper, and my damn cock gives me away. I’m trying to tell her she has beautiful eyes but all my dick keeps saying is pull down your knickers and let’s fuck. Annoying bugger.

So the polite-raised bloke I am decided to do something to get my prick under control: more masturbating. That’s right. More tugging and more squirting that hopefully would result in less cock-saluting at all the lovely ladies all the time. Who could tell that my clever plan would lead to me caught with my trousers down!

Week One: Twice A Day

That’s where I started. Two extended trips to a loo, any loo; work, train, or pub. Twice a day I quick-stroked myself to randy thoughts about tarts with big titties in tight sweaters, or redheads in jeans so tight they split their clit lips, sitting spread-legged at a bar. My imagination went crazy as my fingers got tired tugging at my cock, trying to toss it off.

But bollocks, it was working! I could actually chat someone up without my cock popping out of my jeans trying to say hello. I may have lost the end-of the-night edge at the pub, but I was getting phone numbers like crazy riding on the Underground.

Week Four: Three Times a Day

My happy, horny twice-a-day jerk-off success was short-lived. Three weeks in, my constant cock bulge returned. I’d been to the doctor once already and he laughingly dismissed my problem as rubbish. “Man up and deal with it,” he told me. But my cock problem was starting to take a toll on my work productivity, so I thought I’d give it another shot, quite literally, and up my tossing off to three times a day.

My cubicle was set between two men’s rooms on our floor, so I could mix up my visits between them. It was a Friday and we had outside visitors in the office; half-of them female, all blonde, frisky and fine. In no time flat, after the lot of them had paraded around the cubicles, my cock was raring to go. So I checked around my desk, didn’t see anyone and made a straight-away for the men’s loo.

At the time, I actually didn’t mind this particularly hard-on circumstance so much. The women were attractive, it was toward the end of the day, and interestingly I felt happy that my dick was able to get so hard so quickly and stay there. Oddly enough, it was with a degree of pride that I walked over to the stall, dropped my trousers, and took my dick in my hand.

The stall door was open and I could see myself straight-away in the mirror. Usually that’s when I’d close the stall and get jerking, but today I thought, I’m going to watch myself. Why not fucking enjoy the show, you know?

I began slow-stroking the shaft of my cock and squeezed my ball sack. That felt particularly good, I thought, so I played with my balls for a bit more. I went back to stroking my dick, up and down, faster, harder, focusing my thoughts on one of those blonde office visitors in my head. I thought of her boobies, the round curves of her arse. Her lean long legs and the dripping wet knickers I was sure were beneath her skirt. My body started to rock as I stroked myself closer to orgasm. I flicked the tip of my cock, my trousers dropped all the way down to my ankles, so I spread my legs to steady myself and humped the air. I started to moan, I was on the verge when the door opened—

Stunned, I squirt my load across the floor. The blonde visitor I’d been fantasizing about held back a giggle. “Sorry. Is this the men’s?” She smiled, turned to leave, having caught me with my trousers down. Humiliated, I lifted my trousers up from around my ankles, backed myself into the stall, and locked it tight. I waited till I heard her close the door.

I let myself out of the stall and grabbed some paper towels to clean up my cumstream on the floor. I noticed a business card next to the biggest splash on cum on the tile. It was hers! She’d scribbled something on the back— call me!

And I knew that’s just what I would do when I was done cleaning up my cum!

Have you been caught with your trousers down? Call 0808.189.1030

The American Phone Sex Mistresses are waiting!