Before I get into the gritty portion of today's blog, I know that some of you have been getting caught by your bosses or family checking my blog and other adult sites, so I have a link to the side now where you can subscribe to have my blogs sent directly to an email of your choice. Also good for keeping up to date when you're on trips and only have your phone or a hotel computer. Just another way I try to meet your needs here at Ace's Wild.
I am still wet from the shower, having only padded myself dry before laying the towel out. My chest hair is matted and darkened, and my long hair hangs in loose rings around my face. I stare at myself in the mirror, taking in each body part slowly, bit by bit. It is rare that I allow myself to openly look at my own naked form without criticizing, and I want to remember what is sexy, why I am perfect.
I lock on to my eyes, I love my eyes. They can sparkle with joy, but right now they are piercing, lust-filled orbs, deep blue like the sea. Stray hairs try to obscure my view, but I'm still drawing myself in, allowing my own eyes to seduce me gently. My gaze slips to my shoulder, to the way the bones of the collar and joint create a ridge on it. There is a slight pool of water there, and I resist the urge to brush it away. I don't want to touch just yet. Below my shoulder the hair from my pit peeks out in dense tufts, giving away exactly how much hair is in there. They are wet and curl onto my chest, my pectoral muscle, not as defined as normal thanks to lack of exercise and sickness this summer, but still a perfect form. My fur covers both of them in a soft wet brown-ish blond dusting, hiding and revealing the pale flesh below.
Then it is on to my nipples, hard and pointing out from the cold air in the room. Each nipple dangles a ring, and they wiggle with my breathing, shifting just enough to draw my gaze to the round black balls holding each one in. The nipples grow harder with my arousal, each pink nub pointing out, no longer flat because of the years of extensive play they have received. Again, I want to touch, to pinch and pull, but there is no need. As the nipple grow, even a slight breeze of the brush of my chest hair sends an electrified jolt through my entire body.
From there it is easy to follow the cascade of hair down my stomach, over the bumps that show where I once, in my days of competitive swimming, had a pronounced six-pack. The definition is gone, but the muscles are still there, though my ribs also poke through a bit from my recent weight loss. The hair closes in around my belly button, becoming tighter and a bit shorter. Rob Steed once told me that I have a perfect hair pattern, as if I trimmed it, but this is natural. I remember a swim coach from my youth telling an older swimmer she had troubles with that he needed to grown hair like mine. I am proud of my fur, though once I shaved it and thought it was ugly. I've come to see that my fur makes me attractive and again my hand wants to touch.
Instead I move my gaze to my cock and balls, surrounded by a reddish-blond forest of hair, and they are flush with the shower and my own arousal. It is not narcissism that hardens me when I look at myself, but truth. Though my cock is not yet at full mast, it is lifting its head, revealing my balls below it. The fur surrounding them splashes outward at every angle, spreading over the indentation where my hips and pelvis meet and getting lighter and sparser as it wraps around my ass and down my legs, past where the mirror can see.
Now that I have taken in my whole self, I allow my left hand to brush up my body in an arch, coming to rest atop my right nipple, gently putting pressure on it. My right hand reaches down under my balls where the heat of the shower and my own lust has already caused some sweating and some releasing of my scent. I cup my balls and rub my taint while the pressure on my nipple grows. For the first time I close my eyes and am invaded by the sensation of pleasure coursing through my body. I bring my right hand up and sniff the scent from my groin that is all me, can only be described as Ace's Scent. It is sweat, it is skin, and it has always held a bit of chlorine even though it has been years since I swam. It is also very rich and full and I can't stop my fingers from going into my mouth, not that I try. I like to taste myself as much as I like to smell myself.
When I open my eyes again I am seeing my own eyes staring back at me. The lustful look I was giving earlier has deepened into something more. Something that you can always see in the eyes of a man who is attracted to you and about to have sex with you. That mixture of lust, love, and pure power, and I am giving it all to myself. In this moment there is no other person but me. No one else's pleasure or needs or desire is important. This is the only time I can give myself exactly what I want.
My right nipple starts to hurt sweetly and I move to the left one, working it harder, quicker, to match its brother. The fingers in my mouth come out covered in saliva and I coat the right nipple before allowing that hand to grab my cock. It is so much harder now, and it jumps at my touch, eager to be a part of things. I move the loose skin back and forth, coaxing drops of pre-cum out and rubbing them over the head until it glistens. I run my nails down the length of my shaft, enjoying the nervous sense of almost pain as I scrape myself. I trust myself completely in my hands, I have been doing this long enough to have it down. Each scratch is followed by a jump from the muscles under the skin and more pre-cum oozing out. I scoop up a string of it and drip it into my mouth. Another string coats my nipples, shinning the rings, and then more for my mouth.
The pace I work my cock is increasing, and the pleasure is rising rapidly. I know I will be reaching that tipping point soon. With my right hand pumping, my left reaches down and cups my balls, pulling them, pressing my taint, a finger reaching back to stroke my hole. My pre-cum is a steady flow now and I can feel myself reaching that edge. I lock eyes with my reflection one last time as my orgasm strikes, watching the almost angry look of pleasure as I shoot, the relief of all that effort shaking every part of my body. I throb and my pulse is loud in my ears. I can see my breathless climax, my heaving and twitching, and I take joy in knowing that I was the one making the sexy body feel so good. I made it shiver at the final milking.
I stand, covered in my own cum, and look at myself again. The wetness on my body now is sweat, not water, and I can smell my sex smells wafting off my body. I start to scoop and lick up my cum, enjoying the taste and how much I have shot. I can cum multiple times, and can jerk off more than once a day, but it is rare I enjoy it so much. I love these times when I can take myself at my own leisure, seduce and clean myself up. I am exhausted, but I can't stop staring at myself. I love the body I have and the pleasure I have crafted with it. I love seeing it tired after a good working over. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, count to three, and remember the moment.