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His feet and knees met no resistance, and he realised that its body must be behind his head. Malcolm whimpered and thrashed his body about to shake off his captor, kicking out at the end and the sides of the bed to reach the body of this creature. Automatically, he tried to lift his left arm over to release the vice-like grip, but a second furry hand was already there, holding his left wrist. Horror! Thin, strong, furry fingers gripped his right wrist, pinning it to the bed. There's nothing better than a middle-of-the-night wank to send you to sleep again, he decided, and went to move his right hand into a suitable position for doing that very thing.
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Starting from a perfectly ordinary (though very handsome) cock in its soft state, his lovers would begin to stir the beast into life - which happened very quickly - and after half a minute or so of gentle stimulation would find themselves with a veritable hosepipe on (or in) their hands, surmounted by a length of foreskin even when fully hard. Very proud of that erection, was Malcolm. Taking stock of his situation, he realised that he was lying on his back, having thrown off all the covers, and smiled to himself as he noticed that, as usual when he awoke, he had an enormous erection. It was so black he could almost feel the atmosphere round him, and wondered for a moment if that could have woken him. All around him was blackness - the deep impenetrable blackness of a moonless, starless night in a room with its heavy opaque curtains drawn. Malcolm woke with a terrible start, convinced that something had touched him.