I am delighted to welcome Monstrous Jaffa to Kink of the Week so he can share his thought on bulges…
While it is only within the last 12 months that I have become entirely comfortable with my sexual attraction to penis owners, I have long been fascinated by the at least one aspect of male physiology – namely the bulge in their pants.
For years I have discreetly checked out the crotch of another guys jeans, wondering what lurks beneath, or absent-mindedly let my eyes drift across a fabric-enclosed package in a communal changing room. I love watching all human bodies, so was able to reconcile this fascination with my general curiosity as to the shapes and contours I see moving around me.
However, the last year has seen me finally admit to being more than just a little curious about what lies hidden in those tight jeans, or strains against those snug boxers – I really want to get my hands (and mouth) on the contents of those bulges.
So when the lovely Molly announced that the topic of her latest Kink of the Week was Bulges well…… it got me thinking….
Thanks to this damned pandemic I have yet to have a sexual experience with another man (although there are one or two of you out there that I would like to!), so my thoughts on this are, at the moment, purely fantasy based.
So what is it about the bulge? Under a pair of tight trousers it is the suggestion of what lies beneath. Sitting opposite someone on public transport, or in a bar, the line of their clothing giving hints to what lies between their legs – is that all *them* you wonder? Or is it just the cut of the trouser, their wallet, their phone?
Or perhaps it’s the occasional public erection that catches the eye, its bearer crossing their legs discreetly as they nervously close their phone – what has their lover sent them to provoke such a response? Or perhaps they have been scrolling through the kinkier parts of Twitter. Is it another cock that has blessed them with a rush of blood to the head? Or a lingerie clad arse? Whatever the cause it has had the desired effect, and the bulge has been made more intriguingly real. What would it be like to make eye contact with that person? To give them a knowing grin as my eyes flick down to their crotch then back to their face – would they grin in return?
Of late it’s the bulges in underwear that have fired my imagination – a nice, fat cock, snug in its fabric cradle, or possibly encased in fine lace knickers, the outline visible through the sheer panels. On my knees, the bulge at eye level, my fingers trace the outline of the cock within. I can watch, eyes wide, as the blood flows under my touch, swelling and straining erect. Cupping their balls, running my thumb along the length of their erection, watching it twitch and jerk, licking my lips at the sight.
My hands on their hips I would lean forward and let my tongue dance up the length of their prick. I want my saliva to soak through the fabric, turning it sheer, so that the contours of their penis are more pronounced, more available to the pull of my tongue against the fabric, and therefore against their flesh.
Committing these words to the screen has had a predictable effect on me. As I sit at the table I can feel my own cock bulging, trapped uncomfortably within the confines of my jeans. My hands drift down and re-arrange my length to a more comfortable position. I can’t resist giving my cock a squeeze as I do so. I think it’s safe to say I have a thing about bulges.
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