Here is another Memory from Graham in Manchester about his teen years
A two-fold story.
At school, I used to hang around with Eric. We lived a fair distance apart, a good 45 minute’s walk. We would hang around during school holidays – fortunately, both our mothers worked part-time but on different days. He had a younger sister (look out for my story “My Best Friend’s Sister”) but he refused to babysit her during the day, and she refused to be baby-sat by him; so she would spend the days with her mate in the next avenue whose grandma lived with them and acted as baby minder. However, she would pop home now and again to collect say roller-skates or her bike or a coat, so we had to be a bit more careful when it came to smoking and reading girlie mags.
On the two days we would be at his house, because he sometimes would go fishing with another class mate, but they wouldn’t decide until last minute, checking the weather first. Luckily they were on the phone, so I would go to the call box at the end of our avenue and call. It was the days of button A and button B so you got a couple of seconds to speak before you pressed button A to pay for the call. Eric would shout yes I’m home and I would put the phone down, press button B to get the pennies back and walk to his house. If I didn’t get an answer I would go back home.
On the days my mum was at work, once everyone had gone off to work I would nip downstairs, make a cup of tea get the paper and go back upstairs leaving the door off the latch. If Eric was not going fishing he would come and let himself in and shout up; I would get dressed and come downstairs. If he hadn’t arrived by ten I would assume he had gone fishing and wasn’t coming.
So, I would come downstairs with some girlie mags and our routine was to have a cup of tea and a smoke while browsing the magazines, then one of us would go upstairs to the loo, have a wank and come back downstairs. Then the other of us would go up and do the same. Then make a fresh brew and start again. But we didn’t talk about wanking! We didn’t say I’m going for a wank now, or that was a good wank, or did you enjoy that? It was as though we were pretending to go for a wee. We would do that until lunchtime then we would go out, (we were at that age where we were too old to play out, too young to go out), so we would just wander aimlessly, go down the railway tracks or to the chippy, then back to the house. Now that our balls had refilled we would enjoy another couple of wanks then Eric would make tracks for home.
One day Eric was late and I had assumed he had gone fishing and wasn’t coming and so, as was the usual practice I would make my own entertainment. Normally having a wank at bedtime, in the morning or when getting home from school I could and would bring myself off in a few minutes. But, being home alone during school holidays meant long luxurious masturbation sessions, getting and staying horny and building up the wank, making it last as long as possible.
This meant getting some girlie magazines out of my hiding place and browsing through them. On my own the routine was to browse just one of the girl picture sets and pick a favourite picture. Looking at these delightful girls’ naked bodies, enjoying every inch of their bodies – tits, nipples, hips and pubes. There weren’t many explicit open leg shots in those days so I would do my best to imagine what their fanny lips would look like and by now would be semi or more. Then I would read through the stories, or reader’s letters pages while stroking myself. Once fully erect I would continue to stroke my hard shaft, pulling the foreskin back and forth over my bell-end until the pre-cum juice started to lubricate it. To make it last, for self-foreplay, if you like, I would use just my finger and thumb and twist my foreskin round and round over my helmet. Sometimes, if I was laid on my back, the usual position I would bring my knees up and push my cock and grip it between my thighs, the lower my legs dragging my cock with them, stretching the shaft and foreskin. Then I would resume the finger and thumb massage until I could feel the point where the tingling would start behind my balls. At this point, I would turn back to the picture selected earlier, and start to wank myself. Starting slowly, stroking my shaft whilst lingering over the photo imagining what I would be doing with her – was I between her legs my cock buried deep into her, was she giving me a blowie, or was I going to wank and spill my load on her tits? Then as my balls tightened up I would increase the pace, yanking furiously and shooting my load. When I stopped jerking and got my breath back and my cock softened, I’d then wipe up the jizz, pop downstairs, without bothering to dress, make a cup of tea, have a smoke then go back to bed and start again, and keep going until I had no more juice left or my bell-end was sore. Or both! (My dad smoked so there was no problem with the smell of smoke, but I had to dispose of the filter tips before anyone came home – he smoked Woodbines!)
So, this particular day I’m on my bed, not in it, naked, laid full out, cock erect; I’d had my foreplay and had reached the point of starting to wank and had just wrapped my fingers around my shaft when who should appear at my bedroom door but Eric! Ah fuck! Open the ground and swallow me up.
Eric and I had seen each other naked in the showers at school (reassuringly all the boys in our year were average size, although there were some variations of shrinkage when we first came in from the cold football field, after a hot shower we were all normal size and amounts of body hair). But this was different, I’m naked on my bed, erect and about to have a wank. How embarrassing.
But Eric just said “Good idea. I’ve been dying for a wank all the way here. Don’t mind me, carry on” and came into the room and started pulling his jumper and shirt over his head; was he going to get naked? Yup, he stripped right off, pulling his jeans and pants right off revealing a semi. He picked up a magazine sat in the chair in the corner and started reading, holding the magazine with one hand and stroking himself with the other. I realised my cock was still rock hard. Rather than shrivelling in shock at being caught red-handed, or cock-handed, I stayed rock hard and was now, strangely, extra horny, my helmet was straining in my foreskin. Was there some electrifying homo-erotica going on? I don’t know, but I started to stroke my cock again and it did feel strange but exciting having another person – and a boy, a mate at that – naked, cock out, nearby, occasionally glancing over and watching. And as I glanced at him he was quickly getting hard, so I carried on, increasing my pace, pumping my shaft, while my foreskin dragged backwards and forwards over my bell-end as it gradually lubricated itself, reducing the friction. I’d never felt so horny and couldn’t believe how thrilling it could be wanking with someone there watching. Then as my climax approached my balls squeezed up, my hips jerked, and – ah fuck! …. I shot my load.
Stupidly in my embarrassment/excitement I forgot to have a tissue ready and streams of cum shot up my body, the first spurt hit my chin and the follow-on weaker shots leaving a long string of cum down my chest and tummy with the last few dribbles going down my fingers, into my belly button and pubes; (don’t cha hate it when that happens?) When the spasms stopped, I looked over at Eric who grinned then returned his gaze to the magazine and his hand again stroking his own erection. When I got my breath back and my sticky cock shrank in my even stickier fingers, sheepishly I went to the bathroom to clean up.
When I returned, Eric was now wanking his rock hard cock, sat in my chair with the magazine open at the centrefold. I sat on the bed and blatantly watched him, I couldn’t help myself. It was strangely erotic watching him. His style was different to mine, he had his foreskin pulled back and had spit on his hand and instead of stroking the shaft his hand worked in circles over his bell-end which started to lubricate itself. (A technique I would sometimes copy for variation later). He was now engrossed, eyes half closed, ignoring the magazine, enjoying the self-pleasure centred around his cock. I was equally engrossed watching his cock twitching, his fireman’s helmet changing colour and lubricating itself with pre-cum. Watching this sent signals to my own cock which was twitching as I had my fingers wrapped around it. As he neared his climax his stomach muscles started trembling, his balls shrank and his arse involuntarily lifted off the chair and he shot his load into a tissue, his body and hips jerking with each spurt from his bell-end. Clever boy being ready for it.
I had stiffened up again while I had been sat watching him and touching myself, massaging my prick back to erection, not even pretending to read a magazine. I was ready to go again and laid back on my bed and while he went off to the bathroom I pumped away at my cock, my eyes closed, trying to avoid reaching the point of no return until I sensed he was back in the bedroom. I increased my pace, looking to see if he was watching; he was. This spurred me on and I could feel my body tense up like a coiled spring until I could hold back no longer and although it was barely 20 minutes since my last, my cock started pumping my hot, fresh semen again all over my chest and stomach and pubes. Fuck, did that feel good. As my eyes opened I was pleased to see that Eric had obviously watched to the end.
After a while I suggested we might be more comfortable downstairs in the lounge, so we gathered magazines and tissues and without bothering to dress we moved downstairs. That became our routine, one on the settee, one on the rug, reading the magazines, wanking, drinking tea and smoking. Sometimes we would be hard and wanking at different times, sometimes almost synchronised. Sometimes watching each other, sometimes not, sometimes concentrating on the girls in the magazines. (I think I watched him more than he did me, but when I knew he was watching I usually came quicker). Neither of us suggested touching each other. We couldn’t do this at his house but for two or three days a week for the rest of that particular holiday, that was our routine. Then once we got back to school we never did it again, or anything like it, and we never mentioned it again.
Round the corner lived another schoolmate, Dave; he was older, in the year above me so we didn’t hang around much in school but we got the same bus and had the same interests in music and football, and girls! And porn. We started swapping LPs and girlie magazines and gradually became mates out of school when neither of us had anyone to hang out with.
When we swapped the girlie magazines, we would hide them in LP covers and call at each other’s houses on the pretext of loaning each other records. Then eventually we got into a similar routine as I had with Eric, where we would be at one or other’s house, read the magazines then one of us would go to the loo for a wank and come back as though we had only been for a wee. Then the other of us would do the same. Then start again. Again, we didn’t talk about it! We didn’t say I’m going for a five-finger shuffle, or that was a good wank, or did you enjoy your hand-shandy?
We couldn’t smoke at his house but his house was actually better when everyone was out because he shared a bedroom with his brother and there were two beds parallel to each other, a couple of feet apart, so we would lie on the beds reading the magazines, reading bits out loud to each other, showing each other our favourite girls and talking about girls at school. And we didn’t have far to go to the bathroom.
I was actually missing the naked reading and wanking sessions with Eric, so I hatched a plan that next time we were at Dave’s house I would contrive to get caught naked and wanking. And I did so one day when I was already hard from reading a magazine, and he went downstairs to check the door was locked. When he came back up I was laid on his brother’s bed, naked, fingers wrapped around my hardened shaft. As he came into the room he was shocked. “What the fuck ….???”
I said “well we both know what we are doing and it’s not really comfortable wanking over a toilet, is it? This is much more comfortable.” He paused during which time I’m actually drooping rapidly in my hand not sure if I have done the right thing or not?
Then he looked me up and down and said: “you won’t tell anyone?”
“Shit, no, of course not”
Then he started undressing. Now it was my turn to be shocked. As he pulled off his pants I could see his cock, and it was huge; the expression hung like a donkey came to mind. He wasn’t even semi and it looked longer soft than mine was hard. A combination of awe and envy mixed in with the erotic situation and I was soon hard again. Hoping that he was watching or at least half watching, I started wanking away, pumping my hard shaft.
Meanwhile he opened a magazine and started to read, occasionally glancing at me, and his cock started to fill up eventually becoming fully erect. It was huge and, dare I say as a straight guy, beautiful. Then came the usual warning signs as I could feel my approaching climax, my body jerked, stomach muscles cramped, and I could feel the cum coursing from my balls and through the vein in my cock, and - ah fuck, yes! – I shot my load – and boy did it feel good. As with the first time with Eric, I wasn’t ready with a tissue and my jizz shot all over me and the bedclothes.
Instead of cleaning up though, I couldn’t take my eyes off Dave’s huge cock and I had to watch as he started wanking, with my cock shrinking into my hand. In fact, there’s so much difference in size I’ll call mine a cock and his The Prick.
Now for me there was only one way to grip my cock, it just fitted my hand nicely, my fingers would stroke over my bobby’s helmet on the upstroke and drag my foreskin half way down on the down stroke. But when you have a Prick that is twice as long as your hand, where do you grip it? Dave started holding it in the middle then after a while he moved his hand up the shaft so that as he stroked his fingers would drag his foreskin backwards and forwards over his bell-end which was changing colour from a raw red to purple and started to glisten with pre-cum. He was going for ages and quickening his pace and I was getting another semi whilst my cock was still sticky with my own juices. Eventually, his stomach muscles started cramping and his balls visibly shrank and his bell-end exploded and started shooting his cum. Like me, in the heat of the moment he wasn’t prepared with a tissue so, bizarrely, he pushed The Prick vertically so his cum shot up in the air, thick milky spurt after thick milky spurt, then straight back down onto his pubes, his stomach and hand, each spurt making lower and lower arcs until the last couple just bubbled out and dribbled down his hands. “Ah shit,” he said.
After a while getting our breaths back we went to the bathroom and cleaned up stood side by side, silently, at the sink with our cocks in the bowl (well The Prick was in the bowl, my cock was resting on the rim!) washing our now limp cocks, groins and pubes.
When we went back to the bedroom I had to ask, although I knew the answer, “Will mine be that big next year?”.
“Fuck. It’s huge, how long is it?”
I made him get something to measure with and he found his mother’s dress-making tape measure in her sewing box. Because I wanted to cop a feel of The Prick, and secretly wanted to feel some else’s hands on mine, I insisted that we measure each other, so I had his limp Prick in my hand as I fiddled about with the tape measure. It felt weird not only having some else’s cock in my hand but such a big one, The Prick, it was like handling a live fish! He measured at nearly four and three-quarters inches soft. His turn to measure me and it was weird but exciting having another pair of hands handling my cock, thankfully helping me fill out a bit so I measured at two and three-quarter inches. How puny in comparison eh?
We then sat side by side and flicked through one of the girlie mags discussing which model we liked best and why and what we would like to do with them or have them do to us. Once we were both fully stiff again I reached for the tape. I let him measure me first and again it was a really nice feeling having someone holding my cock, but now handling my stiff cock, and helping the blood flow to give me a rock hard stiffy. I pushed his finger so the end of the tape pressed into my skin and I measured at four and a quarter inches. Now my turn to measure Dave’s monster Prick, which meant getting a hold of it. As well as being much longer than mine it was also much thicker. I was really enjoying the feel of it so much I forgot about measuring. “Are you gonna measure it or what?” I did, and fuck, he came out at SEVEN AND A HALF FUCKING INCHES!!
Of course, we were now both horny. Dave picked up a magazine, opened at the centrefold and lay on his bed and started stroking The Prick. I stayed on the floor in a lotus position and turned open one of the magazines, but most of the time I was watching Dave wanking his monster and started to wank myself, slowly at first moving my hand up and down the shaft of my throbbing cock. Dave put his magazine down and moved his hand further up the shaft so he was also pulling his foreskin back and forth over his huge bell end but now leaned on his side watching me. So, I picked up pace increasing the pace as my bell-end started to lubricate itself. I could see Dave’s bell-end also starting to glisten and turn purple. Then I could see his stomach start to jerk and his balls shrink at the same time as my own balls screwed up and – wham! – We both shot our loads together. My first couple of spurts shot towards Dave landing on and dribbling down the sheets draped over the side of the bed. Because of the angle, Dave was at so he could watch me his first couple of spurts hit the bedside cabinet, much to his alarm! The rest of both our jizz then dribbled on the carpet. Wow, it was a great feeling and we were both panting a bit.
We looked at each other, sheepish and embarrassed, then grinned. We cleaned up and dressed and went outside for a smoke, no one in his house smoked so we had to go behind the shed, and neither of us said a word. But as soon as we got back upstairs we just stripped off and sat naked chatting, about cocks, wanking, sex (not that we were getting any), girls at school and so on, then as we both stiffened up we picked up a magazine each, lay on the beds and had simultaneous wanks, this time without watching each other.
After this when we got together we would usually have our first wanks separately getting horny over the magazines, sometimes watching each other; then we would start playing wanking games. Sometimes we would kneel or stand side by side and see who would come quickest and who’s cum would shoot the furthest. Sometimes we would get a centrefold picture with open legs and blu-tack it to either a bedside cabinet or a wardrobe door and we would kneel a couple of feet away and wank off to see who’s cum would land nearest to her pussy. Jizz-darts! Imagine that on the telly! We also played wanking hide and seek. One of us would pick a hiding place and start wanking while the other searched to see if he could find him before he came. We stopped this when I hid in his younger sister’s wardrobe and shot my load over her clothes! We also tried to think up the most outrageous place to wank thinking of what would happen if we got caught; so we did it in parent’s bedrooms, my older sister’s and his younger sister’s bedrooms, kitchens, bathrooms, dining rooms, everywhere. We found that wanking in the bathrooms made it easier to clean up so sometimes we would sit at each end of the bath and aim our jizz at each other.
Then this one time I had been with a girl who had let me feel her down below. I had felt a few tits before now, but no one let me feel down below. She had jeans on so I couldn’t actually feel anything but it was great anyway rubbing my hands right down between her legs. And I think rubbing her clit through the seam of her jeans turned her on, although not to orgasm. She returned the favour, not many girls did in those days, and felt me up, rubbing my stiff shaft through my jeans. It was so good I came in my pants, I’m not sure if she knew what had happened but I was embarrassed and hoping not. Of course, when I told Dave I embellished the story a bit, well a lot, and told him that she actually had my cock out and wanked me off.
“Oh god, what did it feel like?”
I don’t know what made me do it but we were both naked, he was lying on my bed with a three-quarters semi, and I was sat on the floor and I said, “Close your eyes”. He did and I got on my knees, reached over and wrapped my fingers round The Prick. He gasped and immediately his Prick started to grow and throb in my hand. The sensation from my hand and eyes sent instant signals to my brain and to my cock which was already hard but my bell-end seemed to swell up under my foreskin. At this point, I didn’t know how far we were going with this but I was feeling really excited, just like when the girl was rubbing my cock through my jeans. I relaxed my grip and started to feel the Prick, moving my hands along the shaft, over his bell-end, and through his foreskin I felt around the prominent outline of his bobby’s helmet. Slowly back down the shaft and down to his balls, and I cupped them in my hand, squeezing gently. Then back up the shaft and I wrapped my fingers around firmly. He moaned again and the Prick throbbed in my hand and my own cocked also jerked. I thought my bell-end would rip through my foreskin so I reached down and peeled it back.
Dave was enjoying my stroking but I was really, no REALLY, enjoying doing it! It was a while since we had done the measuring and washing, and it felt really strange yet good and very erotic to have another boy’s cock, not just any cock, but this huge Prick, in my hand. And it looked fantastic; enormous, rock hard, veins visible, fireman’s helmet straining at his foreskin. A thing of beauty. Watching it as I stroked it was making me even harder. “Hmm nice,” he said. So I started some slow wanking strokes and he groaned again. And my own cock jerked again.
I told him to think about a girl and he chose Beverly Dickinson, the head girl who was way out of both our leagues. So I kept going and started to increase the pace, my hand gripped around the centre of his bulging shaft. On the downward stroke the foreskin slid halfway down his bell-end, on the upward stroke the skin dragged his balls up. I started to increase the pace. I was not only enjoying doing this, but enjoying giving Dave pleasure, and being in control. My brain was confused, this was so wrong, taboo, but it was so pleasurable. In those days we boys used to be told that masturbation was wrong, it was even called self-abuse; but once you had your first wank you’d think, “how can something SO GOOD be so wrong?” Well, it was the same now.
All the while my own cock was throbbing. I adjusted my position and sat on the side of the bed and put both my hands on, one hand now at the top of the dragging his foreskin back and forth over his bell-end and the other lower down twisting and stroking, sometimes moving down to cup his balls as they bounced around. I increased the pace, wanking this monster furiously for what seemed like ages.
His breathing became more laboured, inhaling long, slow, deep breaths, before exhaling rapidly, then the vein down the centre of The Prick started bulging, his stomach muscles started jerking, his balls visibly drew into his groin and I could feel the first jerk about to explode. As much as I was enjoying it I wasn’t going to catch his cum and he didn’t seem to care. “Oh my god!” he almost screamed, I stopped stroking and the first spurt shot further than I had seen before, shooting over his head onto the headboard with the follow-on spurts dribbling over his face, neck, chest and the last few bubbled into his belly button. He was panting, his chest heaving, “God, that was so fucking good. Is that what it was like?”
After he recovered and his breathing returned to normal, he went to clean up. Meanwhile, I was still rock hard and wanting to know what it was like to be wanked-off by someone else, as good as the cumming-in-my-jeans experience was. So when he came back into the room I was on the bed with my cock fully erect. “Did you enjoy that?”
“I certainly fucking did? Was it that good for you?”
Er, I admitted what had really happened but then hinted that perhaps he would return the favour. Took a while for the penny to drop. He sat on the bed and tentatively wrapped his fingers around my cock. It was a tremendous feeling having someone else’s fingers around my cock, which was now throbbing and jerking in his hand I had my eyes closed. “Who are you thinking of?”
“Christine Browne. No wait, Miss Wilkinson” (the trainee teacher doing her year out)
“Ah yes, don’t blame you” and Dave started stroking away. I imagined Miss Wilkinson’s naked, super tits, and her delicate hands on my cock while Dave’s hand was sliding up and down my shaft, on the upward stroke his hand would go over my bell-end and on the downward stroke would brush against my pubes and nudge into my balls. I trembled as his hand quickened up and down my stiff eager shaft. I briefly opened my eyes and could see he was focused on my cock; it must have seemed puny compared to his but I sensed he was really enjoying wanking someone else’s, my, erect cock. There was no denying that I was INCREDIBLY turned on right at that moment. My cock was harder than ever, like a steel shaft – it was hard to imagine it ever going soft again! And it was a naked boy with a semi on doing it to me. I looked up and back down his body, lingering on his semi-erect, huge, beautiful penis. I forgot about Miss Wilkinson. Again, I was thinking how wrong but how fucking GOOD is this?
As my breathing laboured so did his. I closed my eyes again and thrusted my buttocks up, as if trying to fuck his hand and he took the hint and started to increase the pace pumping my cock, tightening his grip and wanking faster and harder. It’s a great feeling when another person is wanking you off. When you do it yourself you control the speed, the strength of the grip, etc, but when someone else is doing it you don’t, can’t, control anything. Dave was gripping me harder than I grip myself and his speed was so fast the combination made for quite a rough wank, but it had the desired effect. I felt the familiar tingling feeling of my climax approaching. I could feel my balls cramp, my stomach jerk, I groaned loudly, and my legs bucked up and off I went. Like Dave, I shot harder and further than I had before. There were sticky streams of jizz all over me and now two lots of jizz on the headboard, but fuck, who cares, that was great. The best ever. (Well, up to that point of my teenage life).
Unlike me, he had held onto my shaft as I pumped several shots, feeling each jerk and still had his fingers around it as the last couple of spurts dribbled down his hand. It was strange having someone hold my cock as it started to soften. I watched him closely watching as my erection subsided, his other hand moved to my balls and gently massaged the tight, hard, shrunken golf-ball sized knot until the sac relaxed and my balls dropped. Wow, nice touch.
After that we developed a routine where one of us would lie back on the bed and read aloud one of the stories or letters from the magazine, substituting our names for the blokes in the stories, and the names of girls at school we fancied for the girls in the stories, while the other wanked us off. Naughty and very homoerotic, but miles better than wanking on your own; well, OK, it was FUCKING FANTASTIC! When it was my turn to be wanked I used to love the feeling as reading a really erotic story, of another hand stroking my shaft up and down, the fingers going over my bell-end, jerking, unable to control the climax as it built up and that feeling in the end of my cock as I ejaculated my load. I also loved it when it was my turn to wank off his beautiful monster Prick, my fingers exploring his shaft, sometimes caressing his balls, his cock throbbing in my hands, me controlling when he would cum, the sensations as his body jerked and his cock exploded because of what I was doing. Gripping it as it jerked and pumped, fountains of jizz spurting from the slit in his bell-end. My eyes watching, my brain taking it all in and sending signals to my own cock. Even if I had just cum recently my cock would feel so nice, my balls experiencing a strange mix of ache and pleasure.
When one of us was going out with a girl and getting some action, however mild, our joint wanking activities would pause. Then one time we both got girlfriends who lasted a few months and we never resumed our wanking club, but it was great while it lasted, keeping sexual frustration at bay until we were getting girly action for real.
I’m hesitant to admit now but I really did enjoy both aspects of our encounters – being wanked off, which I still get lots of but by girlfriends and now my second wife; and wanking off someone else, having his cock in my hand and me being in control, feeling that shaft in my hand as I pump it, bringing him to climax, and watching his whole body shuddering with each powerful ejaculation, and watching the white sticky fluid spurting out.
In my thirties, in my single years between my first and second wives, I had a couple of MMF threesomes (threeways as the Americans say) (and which were actually more erotic than the MFF threesomes I had); so I had a couple of nice looking, stiff cocks to look at, and within reach, but I didn’t think the other guys would not have been impressed if I had gotten hold! It was good watching them in action though and because the unspoken rule is either condoms or you pull out, I got to see them ejaculate. Very erotic.
However, I did get to hold another guy’s penis during this period. I’ll not go into the whys and wherefores, I’ll save the full story for later, but, one of the lads I knocked around with, Ray, and I copped off with a couple of girls, let’s call them Cathy and Claire (an in-joke for people of a certain age) who loved sex and partying, so we spent a dirty weekend away at a cottage by the sea. The weather was shockingly bad (thank your lord) so we spent most of the weekend indoors, shagging! So, we actually had breakfast sat around the rug in front of the log fire in the living room.
We finished eating and cleared the pots and stayed sat around naked. We all seemed to find the most comfortable position was sitting lotus position, so the girls’ fannies were not only visible and open to view but, they were stretched open and both with labia visible, raw and glistening from early morning shags and clitorises just about peeping out. And they both had great tits, just hanging nicely. So, we guys were in a constant state of arousal, varying from semis to full stiffies, which the girls found amusing. At one point the conversation got around to the differences in the girls’ tits. Cathy’s were small and pert, just how I like them, she actually had the larger chest but smaller cup size, Claire had the smaller chest but bigger cup size, fuller but still firm. The difference in size was obvious but we guys, keen to keep the conversation going, (who doesn’t like talking about and looking at tits?) played ignorance about understanding cup sizes, asked about the difference in size and weight. That led on to us all having a feel of both girls’ tits, including the girls feeling each other up. By now we guys were both rock hard at the same time so the girls got their own back by talking cock size. I think I had the edge on length, and Ray had the edge on girth. And much to our delight, the girls wanted to have a feel to confirm, and it was good having two girls feeling your cock. They both had a good feel with both hands and had a cheeky feel of our balls, and weighing them!
We then talked about how it was OK for the girls to feel each other up but no way would straight guys touch, let alone feel each other’s cocks. The girls seemed to then make it a mission to get us to feel each other’s cocks. To be honest, I was game but Ray wasn’t. However, they kept trying to tempt us, eventually offering us two-on-one blowjobs if we did. Even he cracked at that. The rules were; we had to hold each other cocks with one hand and cup the balls in the other, for ten seconds. As we agreed, they then added an extra condition that we had to pull each other’s foreskins back - so Ray added a condition that when we came they couldn’t pull off and had to swallow. I knew this didn’t bother Cathy, she had let me shoot my load in her mouth and swallowed as though it was the best thing she had ever tasted (it probably wasn’t but she knew how to make a man feel good). I had shagged Claire but we hadn’t done oral, so perhaps Ray knew something.
I went first, trying not to seem too keen, I cupped his balls and wrapped my fingers around his solid shaft. His cock jerked. The old feelings of homoerotic pleasure from holding and wanking Dave’s Prick flooded back and my cock jerked in response, and my balls contracted as well, which the girls noticed, and my brain went haywire. I savoured having his firm cock in my hand, it was rock hard and his vein was prominent and pulsing. I moved my hand up his shaft to the tip, feeling every millimetre, then tightened my grip and pulled it back down dragging his foreskin over his bell-end. My cock was throbbing and my brain was pounding, with delight. He jerked again and so did I. It was as though there was a high voltage cable running from my finger-tips through my brain cells and onto my bell-end. His cock was pulsing in my hand and, god, was I enjoying this and wondering if I dare pull a few wanking stokes when the girls said the ten seconds were up. I’m sure it was longer, but then I thought, not long enough.
His turn and he was much more hesitant. I was kneeling but upright making my cock accessible to him thrusting it towards him, and, god, it was wanting him to grab it so badly; so badly I was worried I would cum as soon as he did. He finally, and nervously, took hold of my shaft, then gently placed his other hand under my balls. Fuck, did that feel amazing. I had my cock and balls held, caressed, wanked, sucked licked, lots of times by girls but this was much more exciting because it was so taboo. And, we were being watched by two naked girls. My cock was jerking and throbbing, but he didn’t follow my example and have an exploratory feel, he quickly tightened his grip and pulled my foreskin back. How I didn’t shoot my load I don’t know, but all too quickly, the ten seconds were up and he couldn’t let go quickly enough!
For the two-on-one blow jobs, Ray went first, standing up and the girls kneeling either side of him. They licked his shaft and sucked his balls and then Cathy was first to take his cock into her mouth, slowly lowering herself and deep throating him. God, my cock was throbbing watching this. She then started moving back and forth along the shaft, sucking and tonguing his bell end. After a while, she pulled off and let Claire take her place. Claire moved up and down his shaft and twisted her head side to side at the same time. After a few minutes she pulled off but just as Cathy moved in Ray’s legs buckled, his cock jerked, he groaned, and he shot his first load of white, sticky cum into the air. Cathy tried to get her mouth onto his fireman’s helmet but with each ejaculation his cock jerked and his legs buckled (no wonder they call it a knee trembler!) and he would shoot another load in another direction and she missed. Having demanded that they take it all and swallow he managed to miss two willing mouths! He sank down onto the rug as his cocks last couple of spurts dribbled out, then went off to clean himself up, with a very disappointed look on his face! Then it was my turn. I didn’t think I would last long, and I didn’t, but I was somehow able to hold on and not shoot my load until Claire was on me, I grabbed her tits and pumped what seemed like a gallon of my juice into her and, keeping their word, she took every last spurt and drop and swallowed. She pulled off and Cathy clamped her mouth over my cock and sucked me dry, which kept me hard and licked me as clean as a whistle. Later, Ray told me not to tell anyone what we had done and we saw less and less of him at weekends and he soon stopped knocking around with us altogether. Shame.
As another postscript, I bumped into Dave when we were in our twenties and I had to ask, how big is The Prick now? He told me it was over ten and a half inches. I wanted to go into the pub toilets and have a look but he wouldn’t! I was really envious and said the girls must love it. He said that usually when they first saw it they would be delighted but then worried it would hurt, so they were usually very happy to hold it, wank him off, some would give him a blow job or try to, but very few would take it up their pussies, and the ones that did wouldn’t let him push it in all the way. He said it was frustrating and had even been to a prostitute a couple of times being so desperate to feel it come in a fanny. Years later again we met and he told me he was happily married to a girl who could not only take it up her pussy and loved it and she even took it up her arse! Too much information. Fortunately, I never got to meet her, I wouldn’t have been able to look her in the eye!
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