Countless days on, escape from the wyvern suit seemed further away than ever, and yet I was more and more desperate for it. Hours at a time were spent trying to find the right way to get it off - stretching, writhing, even biting and tugging. I tried every superstitious ritual and followed every opinion, but nothing worked. As time passed, the suit became far more than an inconvenience. The biggest problem to start with was having to learn how to get by without the use of my hands. Simple tasks had become incredibly awkward for me, and so had the social interaction necessary to accomplish what I alone could not. Having to use my mouth and my feet for everything required a dexterity that didn't come naturally. But that wasn't actually the worst of it. I couldn't reach orgasm at all. I realised quickly that, the practical inconvenience of my wing-arms aside, there was no hindrance to physical pleasure (oddly enough, when compared to my normally chaste state), but no amount of it seemed to push me over the edge, to climax. Even when my loins burned with pleasure, when I throbbed with need, even when I felt hornier and more stimulated than I ever had before in my life, I simply could not attain climax. It would have been hard enough to deal with this even under normal circumstances - especially considering the suit prevented my penis from retracting into its slit, keeping it on display and responsive to my every motion - but I soon became very aware of a very persistent arousal. It was clear that some magical property of the suit fed and sustained it. Certainly, with each passing day in the suit I seemed to become more and more aroused. I tried to ignore it, but it was constantly at be at the forefront of my thoughts. Even when it wasn't, I would find myself automatically grinding against things, or even rolling my hips into the air. Soon, even conscious effort was insufficient to stop myself from doing so. Something as simple as sitting on the couch quickly devolved into frenzied, desperate, and most of all frustrated grinding. My body just couldn't accept the fact that it wasn't able to find release. It always seemed to be close, just past the next stroke or grind. Just a little more pleasure would do it...