The Driving Urge

I'm not fond of driving. It just irritates me. Aside from any environmental concerns, the distance, the traffic, I just do not like the act itself. I have largely managed to avoid a lot of driving, but there are still some areas I just need to drive to. In the past week I have been helping a friend at his work, which requires me to drive.

I manage to skip the morning peak hour by coming in late (I'm a fuckin' volunteer, I ain't going to any staff meetings!), but I'm right in the thick of it at the end of the day, traffic jams the whole way home.

Peak hour radio is terrible, I seriously do not understand why it rates so highly, it only ever seems to be ads, at least where I am. Maybe it is better in other parts. So radio is out. I've had too many near misses while fiddling with my mp3 player, so I am loathed to use that in the car now. I can't read without being constantly interrupted, so that leaves staring out the window - at more traffic.

I've jerked off in plenty of different places, never in my car while moving. But what about being spotted? As I painfully inched along the road, I noticed that other people don't seem to get as bored as me. They stare on intently, don't gaze around and have that steely determination on their face like they are busting for the toilet, but are no where near one. Or, they are screaming into a cell phone.

With the steering wheel, pedals and other crap that needs to be dealt with, it is difficult to unzip my fly and move my underpants for access to my now anxious dick. Plus, there is the cleanup problem. The mats in my car are like magnets, once they get dirt in them, they seem to be uncleanable. There are no tissues around either. Underpants it is.

After a little flurry of road rage several yards in front of me, we are all back to being motionless. I take the opportunity to unzip my fly and adjust my underpants, bringing some of the extra fabric around the front to accommodate my now dick.

I rub myself through the material, which wasn't as comfortable as I thought it would be, the constricted space was not ideal. I think women have it much easier in this regard. But I have come this far, so there is no need to do something drastic like stop or worry about comfort. I have to admit, the whole idea sounded better and more exciting in my head than in practice. Having to pause every minute or so to edge the car forward does no real wonders for the mood.

We stop, hard. I see lights flashing in the emergency lane and see ambulances and police scramble up the road, some yahoo has had an accident. I take the opportunity of not going anywhere to finish what I have started. I rub harder and faster, feeling the fabric stimulate the underside of my dick, which is the the sure-fire way to make my heart go a great deal faster. My heart racing, my breath quickening, I can feel the greatest sensation known and the release of jizz all over the insides of my underpants. I took a quick peek and saw ropey jizz hanging from my underpants and glans dripping onto my balls. After a minute my dick has suitably deflated, so I can zip up.

I still dislike driving, but perversely relish traffic jams.