Rock the Vote

Darren’s quaking in anticipation, he’s standing in line and goddamn, it’s a long line. He’s shaking all over, almost whimpering; the little card is in his hand, tremors vibrating through the paper along with his shivering hands. He’s biting on his lower lip and he’s thanking God he wore the baggy khaki shorts instead of the tight jeans Chris picked out because right now, his boner would be raising some big concerns. He can feel it pushing against his boxer shorts and a groan flitters past his lips, heavy and breathy. He can’t wait; he really, really can’t wait. This anticipation is way too much; Darren’s screaming inside his head. He just wants this line to end so he can get inside. A bead of sweat slides down his inner thigh and he inhales deeply, eyes shutting for just a moment as he tries to think of something else, anything but this. But it’s too much; nothing can distract him from this.

The line’s been steadily moving for twenty minutes now, Darren is three people from the front and he can’t help but sigh in relief, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on. Silently, he thanks God he got here early; the line seems like its millenniums long behind him as he peers around anxiously.

Ten more minutes and he’s at the front of the queue, bouncing on the heels of his feet impatiently, waiting for that curtain to open so he can dash in and feel that sweet, sweet release. His throat is dry no matter how much he swallows. His breathing is now erratic, uneven, completely haphazard as the person who was in front of him, with the bald spot at the back of their head, leaves the booth empty handed and walks calmly out.

Darren can’t get in the booth quick enough, sliding the roughly fabricated blue curtain across, hiding himself and his quaking body from view and sits down on the stool, and loud sigh leaving his lips as he slams his paper card down on the table and immediately begins palming himself through his shorts, eyes slamming shut and head lolling backwards as his mouth drops open and he shivers in delight, barely containing the ragged moan that rolls from his full, pink lips.

Rapidly, palming himself isn’t enough and so his unbuttons his khakis with sweaty, shaking hands and brings one hand close to his lips, spitting on it and then wrapping it round his throbbing, red cock, this time unable to stop the quiet groan departing his mouth. His hand grips his member firmly, the saliva acting as a wonderful lubricant as he begins to pump with speed, knowing he can’t be too long.

Darren’s shaking all over, muscles tightening almost to the point of pain, as silent moans heave from the pit of his diaphragm as he keeps pumping his cock faster and harder. The man can feel his abdomen coil and he knows he’s ready and he bucks again and again into his hand. A free hand snakes out and grabs the white card with the printed font over it and blows his load over it; thick, white, creamy mess dripping off the card slowly and onto the floor. He uses his sneaker to rub it into the dull carpet so it isn’t obvious he just jacked off in a voting booth. A post-orgasmic sigh leaves his lips that are curled in a huge smile and with a tired, shaking hand; he takes the pen on the desk and scrawls a wobbly cross into his chosen box before sliding the cum-sodden ballot paper into the locked ballot box before him and standing up, buttoning up his shorts and heading out.

As he leaves, the big grin on his face stays right there on his tan face, eyes dazzling with the last dregs of lust.

“Gotta love democracy,” he says to no one in particular as he exits the voting station and heads back home for a well deserved shower.