Try to work it off yourself

In the absence of anything suitable to, er, fuck (it still feels so weird to be thinking in these terms!), you decide to take matters into your own hands, literally. You obviously have no experience in jerking yourself off, but you're no sweet, innocent virgin either; you reckon you can probably work something out. At least, you hope so.

You glance self-consciously around for a few seconds, wondering if anyone can see you, before realizing that, at this point, you honestly don't care. Remaining seated on the forest floor, you tug at the waistband of your trousers, then wiggle your hips a little to slip out of them, your new "friend" springing free. In the state of full mast you've already reached, you're about 7" long, by your reckoning - bigger than an average human but decidedly unremarkable for an orc - and fairly thick and substantial.

You take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself, then, slowly, you wrap the fingers of your right hand around your shaft. Your fingers are just long enough to completely encircle it.

Whoa.

Okay.

If this is how easy it is for men, it's no wonder they do it all the time.

You wait for a couple of moments, then, cautiously, you begin to stroke yourself. You take it very slow and steady to begin with, to let yourself acclimatize to the feelings - and they take some acclimatization. You doubt most men would be this sensitive, but for someone who's never even had a cock before, let alone touched it, just the sensation of your fingers against the sensitive skin is electric, and when you start pulling the skin back and forth over the swollen, purplish head, you very nearly lose it there and then.

You feel an orgasm begin to mount, deep in your balls, which, though newly created, are already roiling and churning with seed. A pressure begins to build, a palpable tension that you know will only be broken when you hit your climax and lighten the load on your aching loins.

You can't stop now, and you wouldn't even if you could. Your hand seems to be almost locked in, maintaining a fairly quick motion and a firm grip which might be painful if not for the exquisite sensations it brings. Little noises of ecstasy escape your lips, your mouth hanging half-open and gasping for air as your pulse soars to levels you'd never normally expect outside of combat. Driven by a delirious yearning for more, more, more, you milk yourself mercilessly, and finally, finally, there it is.

That's it... you can't... you're going to...