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Spontaneous Knotting of an Agitated String

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And it would have been fine if it had just been a string like any other, nondescript and flaccid, but this one was ... well, it was agitated. It flopped around fitfully, its frayed ends thrashing against the concrete, and it glowed an angry red. It almost seemed exhausted, like it needed something but didn't know what, and so it resorted to writhing about on the pavement, wanting without outlet.

Derek was just going to walk by, to ignore the string, its frantic movement, its striking color, but something came over him. It was spontaneous and unavoidable, new and strange, and he couldn't resist. He had his cock out before he knew what was happening, and he was on the string, hard already.

The logistics were confusing, didn't quite work, but Derek didn't care. He scraped his dick across the string's fine surface, and the concrete against his skin was agony. He sat back, picking up the string that was already growing pliant, as though its itch were finally being scratched. He wrapped it carefully around himself, covering it with his fingers as he stroked it up and down his cock.

He watched it, wanted to be sure it wanted this, and its color was calming, going pink around him. It was the color of his dick as his knot began to swell, and he slid it all the way down, tight around the base, and watched it fade to a peaceful white of surrender as he spent himself. They stayed tied like that, in the middle of the road and uncaring, for thirty blissful minutes.

When Derek left the string, carefully placing it back where he found it, it was still and restful at last.