Spurting in My Pants at the Red Cross

I'm a regular blood donor and an avid masturbator, but I've never combined the two until yesterday. It was my 81st donation (Yes, I'm bragging!), so I know the routine. It's a fixed site, so they have three small interview rooms for the pulse, temp, BP and hematocrit checks and the questionnaire. It all takes a while to complete. Well, Cindy was out on vacation, so they were shorthanded. They also had more donors than usual, so everything was taking longer.

Linda left another donor in his room to complete his questionnaire, and took my temp, pulse and iron level, but she had to return to the other room to finish with the other donor. So there I was, alone in this tiny room. Bored, I started playing with my balls and cock through my pants, and slowly got harder and harder. I wasn't getting too worked up, because I didn't think I could finish. But after a while, it was starting to feel pretty good!

I decided I wanted to touch my cock directly, skin to skin, if only for a little while, so I put just my thumb into my waistband, right onto the sensitive flesh on the underside of my cock, just below the head, and rubbed it in little circles. Wow. That was nice. I rubbed through my pants with my fingers, and right on my cock with my thumb. Just a few seconds of that, and suddenly I wasn't just idly rubbing. I knew I could do it. I could have an orgasm in my pants right then and there. But did I dare? What if Linda came back? What if I were spurting right when she came in? She hadn't taken my BP yet. What would THAT be if she took it right after I'd unloaded in my trousers? And what about the stain? The smell? I don't wear underwear, so it would seep through easily. All these things went through my mind in a flash as I masturbated. Luckily, the doors have large, frosted, translucent windows, so I knew I'd have a second's warning before the door opened. I remembered that I'd already had an orgasm earlier, so I reasoned that there wouldn't be a very big mess in my pants. And I figured if I spiked a high BP, they'd just take it again in five minutes to double-check. All that thinking and rationalizing took just seconds, and the decision was made!

I let it happen.

Just relaxed, and rubbed, and let it wash through me, over me. Soon, I was there. I knew I was about to come in my pants, which is something I *dearly* love to do. My eyes glued to that frosted window, I was pumping semen into my trousers. I felt the warm wetness on my thumb, nice and slippery on my shaft now. Slowly, the spasms subsided and I sat there, spent, heart pounding, hoping Linda would give me time to recover.

As it happened, it was a couple of minutes before she returned. My heart had time to slow, at least enough that I didn't feel it pounding any more. And I was right that there wouldn't be a huge mess. Just a little quarter-sized dark, damp spot on my khakis. Linda apologized for making me wait, but I told her that I didn't mind at all! My BP was a little high, 130/74, but not bad. The donation went as smooth as silk-nobody but me knew that I had a small load of semen in my pants as I donated!