Recovery, Adult Friends, 1/1 free porn video

I hadn't seen Stan for over 20 years, which is why we
didn't immediately recognize each other while in line
at the supermarket. When I heard his voice as he
addressed the cashier, I realized that it must be him.

"Hey, remember me, I'm Jack?" I asked as he took his
change. He turned his head and his eyes lit up.
"I'm glad to run into you," he replied. "I'll wait up
while you're getting checked out, and then we'll
talk." Once outside, as I had bought nothing
perishable, I followed his suggestion to accompany him
to his house, which was only a mile away. That summer
evening it was still light when I pulled into his
driveway behind him. I helped him carry his bags into
the kitchen, where he put away their contents.
He was my height, six feet, and had brown hair as I
did. His eyes were blue, in contrast to my brown ones.

Stan and I had grown up on adjacent streets, had gone
to the same schools, and we'd been very close as
teens, having experimented sexually as many teens do.
We'd lost contact when he turned 18 and joined the air
force. He'd retired after 20 years in the service and
several years ago had moved back and opened up a small
printing business. I'd been working for the local
newspaper since I'd graduated college.
"You married?" he asked as he placed a couple of
bottles of beer on the kitchen table.
"Yes, and divorced," I replied. "How about you?"
"Same here, Jack. I got married a couple of years
after I joined the service. She was air force too, and
we thought it would work out, but it didn't. She got
involved with a sergeant on the rebound from a
divorce, and she left me for him."
"I guess the relationship wasn't as solid as you'd
thought," I said. "Same thing happened to me."
"Any k**s?" Stan asked.
"Fortunately not," I answered. "Lucky for them. k**s
always get the worst of it when a marriage breaks up.
How about you?"
"No, we didn't have any k**s either. The main reason
was that Sharon was too interested in having a good
time to take care of any k**s or assume any
responsibility. Anything else significant happen in
your life?" We had a lot of catching up to do, as we
were now in our 40s.
"Yes, there is one thing that might interest you..." I
began. "You remember how we both hated it that we'd
been circumcised?" As k**s we'd compared pricks, and
we'd seen those of other boys in the locker room, and
we'd always been chagrined that we were missing
something luckier boys still had.
"Yes, I remember vividly. I still hate it," he
replied.
"Well, about 15 years ago I took the plunge. I had
plastic surgery to put a new hood on my prick. It cost
me about eight thou and involved a long recovery, but
I think it was worth it." At this point Stan stood and
said:
"Let's go outside. I've got a high fence around my
yard. Nobody can see in, and the sun's too low for us
to get sunburned. We can get bare-assed if you want
to. Anyway, I've got something to show you too." He
turned and I followed him. We stripped and sat in
chaises longues on his patio, sipping our beers.
"I guess that's what you wanted to show me," I said,
pointing at his penis. He had smoothly tapering skin
from the base to the end, where it formed a thick
pucker. "What did you do?"
"I did the same as you, but without the surgery," He
said. "I used skin stretching."
"When I went for the plastic surgery I thought it was
the only way. I hadn't heard about stretching. That's
what you did, right?" He nodded.
"What sort of skin graft did you get for the new
foreskin?" Stan asked. "Your cock looks like it has a
dark band at the end."
"That's a graft from my scrotum," I answered. "The
doctor cut loose a ring of shaft skin and inverted it
over the head for the inner lining. Then he used
scrotal tissue for the outside skin."
"It looks kinda tight," Stan said. "Does it go back?"
"Try it and see," I invited him. I wondered if he'd
become shy about touching another penis since I'd last
seen him. He shifted slightly and I felt his warm
fingers around the end of my prick, testing the
tightness of the new hood. My penis was still soft and
he had to get a firmer grip on it to stabilize it so
that he could push back the new foreskin. I felt the
pressure of his fingers as he gently pushed my hood
back toward the base of my prick, exposing the front
dome of my helmet.
"Yeah, your skin slides all right," he said. "It's
tighter than mine, and a lot thicker. Does that feel
good?"
"It feels great, Stan," I said as I fingered his
prick. He hadn't mentioned any girlfriend or other
attachment, and I suspected that Stan was as
unattached as I was. This meant that he'd welcome some
sex play right now. After all, he was the one who'd
suggested getting naked.
"I can feel your cock swelling," he said as he pushed
my new foreskin back farther until it was poised on
the crest of my corona. "You've still got that flaring
rim," he added.
"Your prick's starting to swell too," I said as I
felt it stir between my fingers. I wasn't pushing his
foreskin back, but squeezing his glans between my
fingers to produce the bulbo-cavernal reflex. I knew
that each squeeze made the root of his prick throb and
contract.
"With that extra skin, both our cocks are a little
bulkier," Stan commented. "I like the added
thickness."
"I do too," I said. "I think we're still both at
about six inches in length."
"Six inches hard, and without the skin forward," Stan
corrected. "I know that we're both a little longer
without hard-ons, because of the extra skin." He was
right, as both our new hoods extended beyond the glans
when we were limp, adding an extra half-inch. Even
hard, we had slightly more foreskin than glans.
There were some differences between our pricks as
well. Erect, Stan's shaft was flattish, and the
urethra made a barely distinguishable bulge
underneath. My shaft was more triangular, narrower and
deeper than his, the prominent urethral bulge clearly
visible. Stan's tip was also flatter than mine, and
the corona not as high. Stan's prick had a slight
downward curve, while mine was arrow-straight. The
orifice at the end of his glans was a long slit. Mine
wasn't quite as long but it pouted with erection, the
lips assuming a teardrop shape. Stan's prick secreted
a lot of lubricant, while mine did not.
"Looks like the doctor didn't give you a new
gee-string," Stan said as he held my foreskin tightly
back and studied the underside of my glans.
"No, and I didn't ask him to," I responded. "I didn't
want any more cutting than necessary on my prick. I
knew the gee-string was gone for good, along with its
nerve endings, and even if he stitched in a fake one,
it wouldn't be as sensitive as the original."
"What about your new skin?" Stan asked. "Is that as
sensitive as the original?"
"I don't think so," I replied. "Of course, I don't
really know how sensitive my original one was, since
it was cut when I was born. The graft doesn't have
much sensitivity, since grafting it meant cutting the
nerves. The nerve pathways didn't regenerate much, and
all I can feel in the new foreskin is pain if I pinch
it too hard."
"What about the tip?" he continued. "Mine got really
sensitive after I had it covered. Did yours?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "Once it was covered, the
sensitivity increased a lot. The surface got shiny and
darker purple."
"I remember," Stan said. "Our tips were pink before.
They were also dry and leathery."
"I don't have to tighten up to come these days," I
said. Years ago, my prick was so insensitive I had to
tighten my crotch muscles as I stroked to bring on
orgasm.
"I don't have to do that either now that my tip's
more sensitive," Stan said. "I remember how we both
had to tighten up when we jerked off."
"It feels better for me now," I added. "I just
stroke, stay relaxed, and let the orgasm come to me."
We were both now stroking each others' pricks, slowly
and sensually, knowing that the sensation of foreskin
sliding over lubricated tips would bring us off
without effort.
"I think we'd better go inside now," Stan said. "My
neighbors have their windows open, and you know how
vocal we get when we shoot our loads." We stood and
picked up our clothes and then Stan led the way into
the bedroom.
We sat facing each other on the bed, gently stroking
our pricks. Stan's foreskin was definitely looser than
mine, and rolled back easily from the swollen head. I
pushed it down to the base of his shaft, putting
tension on his frenulum.
"That makes the head dip down," I observed. Stan's
glans was definitely dipping towards his scrotum as I
kept his frenulum tightly stretched.
"Oh, yeah," Stan gasped. "That pulling on my
gee-string feels so good."
"I can imagine," I said. "It puts tension on the
nerve endings. I get a hot sensation too, even without
having a gee-string. The tension affects the nerves in
the skin."
"Like this?" Stan asked as he wrapped his fingers
tightly around my shaft behind the helmet and pushed
back hard, dragging my shaft skin against my stomach.
"Oh, that looks nice," Stan continued. "The skin's
all the way back and that purple rim of yours really
stands out against the neck of your cock."
"It feels nice too," I whispered. "I always enjoyed
feeling your fingers wrapped around my prick."
Impulsively I leaned forward and kissed him on the
lips. We held the kiss for over a minute, inhaling
each others' breaths in that intimate moment.
"This feels nicer than when we used to do each other
in the old days," he said. "Our cocks are more
sensitive now."
"I know, Stan. We're both using a lighter touch
because of that. Before we used to have to squeeze and
pump hard to make each other come. Now I think we'll
just have to stroke lightly." Now Stan was just
bumping my flaring corona with the ring of bunched
skin behind it, and I was doing the same to him.
"This stroke's just right, Jack. We don't have to
pump hard. We're both rim-sensitive, so this is going
to do it for us."
"I can see it's doing it for you, Stan. Your balls
are getting tighter." His scrotum, looser than mine,
was drawing upward against his body.
"You're getting excited too," he said. "Your tip's
getting dark purple now, and I think the rim's swollen
even more."
"You're really lubing now," I observed. "It's running
down onto my fingers and I'm going to lose my grip on
your foreskin. I'll probably end up giving you direct
action on the head." Stan's glans was fully freed from
the hood that I was holding back tightly, and as long
as I retained my grip on the foreskin I was able to
bump his corona on the up-stroke and put tension on
his frenulum on the down-stroke. Each time I pulled
down the front of his glans dipped and another drop of
clear viscous fluid oozed from its orifice.
"If you touch the head directly you'll make me pop
right away but that's all right," he said. We knew
from experience that having our orgasms one after the
other was preferable to simultaneous climaxes because
we could watch and feel the other's throbs and hear
his grunts. If we came together our consciousness
would be submerged and we'd be aware only of our own
orgasms.
"Okay, then, you go first," I said. "I'll just get
this pillow and put it between us to catch the cream."
Stan leaned forward slightly as I stroked his bunched
skin to stimulate him, and his breathing deepened. I
saw his face flush as the clear ooze from his tip
flowed between his prick and my tightly encircling
fingers, breaking the friction. My fingers slid freely
over his hot throbbing glans and I gave it a slight
twist to enhance the sensations in his corona. Stan's
body jerked and I felt a responsive throb in his
prick.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" he grunted as the sensations took
hold and drew him into their vortex. His jaw clenched
and his stomach tightened as he poised on the brink of
orgasm, and now I squeezed his glans and rotated my
fist around it to trigger his storm.
A powerful throb filled my fist as he grunted loudly,
and an instant later I saw a thick white jet erupt
from his tip. It felt hot as it landed on my fingers
and I knew it must have seared his urethra on its way
up to the tip. Stan cried out loudly in joyful agony
as his prick spurted jet after jet, and I saw his
entire body shudder as it strained with the
contractions of his orgasm. I smelled the familiar
chlorine odor of Stan's semen as I felt his hot hard
prick throb again between my encircling fingers.
I stopped stroking Stan's penis, because I knew from
my own experience that the head became super-sensitive
during orgasm. As circumcised teen-agers, we'd been
able to stroke our pricks all the way through until
we'd stopped spurting, but with our regained
sensitivity, continued friction would cause distress.
Stan's prick was now just dribbling, making large wet
spots on the pillow, and I felt his tense body begin
to relax as he slumped against me. His breathing
slowed, and I knew he was slipping into the afterglow.
Like me, Stan needed a couple of minutes to recharge,
but would soon be back to finish me off. I grabbed a
Kleenex from the box on the bedside table and began
wiping his prick very gently, as his super-sensitivity
would continue for a couple of minutes. His prick was
softening in my hand as I blotted the long slit in his
tip, squeezing the length of the shaft to force out
the last drops.
I eased his foreskin up over the shrinking glans and
wiped the outside with another tissue. He'd secreted a
lot of lubricant, some of which had run down into his
pubic hair, and I blotted this as best I could.
"That was nice, really nice," I heard him whisper as
I finished wiping his penis. "I never thought I'd run
into you again, and never imagined it could be this
good." Stan kissed me on the mouth, and we clung
together for a minute before I felt his fingers wrap
around my prick.
"Just lie back now," he urged. "It's your turn now,
and I'm going to make you feel really good." His
strong fingers resumed pumping my foreskin, pushing it
up to bump against my flaring rim, and then drawing it
down to bare the neck of my shaft and stretch the
tissues, giving me an extra thrill.
"We've both made a good recovery from our
circumcisions, and we're more sensitive now. You gave
me a really hot thrill while you were stroking me, and
I'm going to do the same for you." Stan kept pumping
my turgid flesh as he spoke, increasing my excitement
as I surrendered to his touch.
"You're really going now," he continued. "I'm just
bumping that flaring rim, not riding over it. That
rim's really expanded now, and the whole helmet's
turned darker too. It's so swollen the skin is shiny."
As he spoke and continued producing little shocks
against the base of my helmet, I felt my consciousness
begin to fade. My mind increasing focused on the
delicious sensations in my prick instead of the
outside world, and I gradually withdrew into myself as
my arousal mounted.
"Your balls were already tight against your body," he
commented as he cupped them with the fingers of his
other hand. "That's because they used some of the skin
to build you a new foreskin, right?" I nodded
affirmatively, my eyes locked with his as he peered
down at me.
"When you were bumping my rim," he said. "I got a
nice tickle right there. Are you getting it too?"
Again I nodded, and Stan stepped up the pace slightly.
The tickle intensified. It built up and spread all
over my helmet, bathing it in sensations. Now my eyes
closed.
"Right about now you should be feeling the tingle,"
he said. He was right. The tickling feeling gradually
changed to a hot tingle that enveloped my glans, and I
knew that the powerful contractions of orgasm were
only seconds away. My breathing was labored, and I
began to moan loudly as the sensations intensified.
"Your cock's harder than I've ever felt it," he said
to me as he continued to stroke it. My stomach muscles
tightened, my legs began trembling, and I felt myself
slipping over the edge. Now I felt as if I were being
lifted on a huge wave as my body responded forcefully
and the heavy pounding of orgasm began deep inside me.

"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" I grunted as the sensations
overtook me and I felt the first hot torrent pouring
into the root of my prick. It felt like hot lava as it
surged up my tube and slammed through the lips of my
slit. I writhed on the bed as another contraction
gripped me, and I moaned in agonized joy as the jet
seared my urethra on its way up and out of my prick. I
grunted again as another spasm hit me, and I felt the
surge of semen distending my urethra, flowing upward.
Now Stan's fingers stopped stroking me, and just kept
my foreskin drawn back tautly, to avoid
over-stimulating me. The tension in my prick-skin
maintained the momentum of my orgasm, and several
weaker jets erupted from my throbbing helmet before
the flow settled down to an ooze. I felt myself
relaxing as the hurricane of sensations left my body.
As I returned to full consciousness from my daze, I
became aware that Stan was delicately wiping my helmet
with a tissue, working around and behind it, and then
pushing the protective flesh up over it.
Stan lay down beside me and we hugged silently for
many minutes. I reflected that we'd been lucky to run
into each other after many years. I didn't have many
friends, and as Stan was as introverted as I, most
likely he didn't have many either.
"Well, I guess I'd better be getting home," I said.
"I have to work tomorrow and so do you." I got up and
Stan offered me a wet washcloth to wipe myself, and
then watched me get dressed.
"Come on over tomorrow after work," he said. "Are you
free?"
"I sure am," I responded. "I'll be here at 5:30, if
it's convenient for you."
"That'll be just fine," he said. "I'll have
sandwiches ready."
"Sandwiches will be fine for a hot summer evening," I
said. I kissed him lightly on the lips and left. Next
evening I rang his bell, and when he opened the door I
saw that he was already naked. He stood behind the
door as I entered and closed it behind me. Following
his unspoken invitation I stripped off my clothes
before following him into the kitchen. The tiles were
cold against the soles of my feet, but I didn't mind
because I was so happy to be in his company again. A
plate of assorted sandwiches was on the table and he
brought out two bottles of beer from the fridge.
"I'm glad you're here," he began.
"We're a lot alike," I added.
"You had a surprise for me last night," he said. "Now
I've got something to tell you."
"What's that?" I asked.
You know how much we both resented getting cut as
babies," he continued. "Well, some years ago I took
care of the doctor who did it to me."
"How do you mean?" I asked, a suspicion forming in my
mind.
"Well, I knew who he was because of his signature on
my birth certificate. Did you know I was born right
here in town at General Hospital?"
"I didn't, but I can see how that would make it easy
to track him down unless he'd moved out of state."
"This doctor was still here, and he still practiced
at General Hospital. One evening I waited for him in
the parking lot. Locating his car was easy because all
doctors had assigned spaces with their names on them.
I had a piece of rebar and a small sledge with me, and
when he came out I hit him from behind and stunned
him. I got him right in the neck and when he was down
I tied up his wrists with duct tape and put a piece
across his mouth and another over his eyes."
"Shit! What did you do, kill him?" I asked, because a
similar impulse had come over me once, long ago.
"No, but I smashed his fingers with the sledge, so
that he'd never clip another k**." Stan explained, a
grin coming over his face. "I made sure I smashed
every finger, and for good measure I broke his wrists
too. He recovered, but can you imagine him trying to
take a piss or wipe his ass with both wrists and all
fingers broken?" Stan was laughing loudly now, very
amused by the mental picture of the hapless doctor. I
joined in, as I agreed that it was very funny.
"Did you think about the risk of getting caught?" I
asked.
"There was always a risk of someone coming by right
at that moment, but back then there were no security
cameras covering the parking lot, so there was no
chance of getting caught on tape. Also, since I'd
taped his eyes, he never saw who did it to him. One
other thing I did was take his wallet, to confuse the
picture. The cops might have thought it was a
particularly vicious robbery. That way, there'd be no
arrow pointing to the real motive."
`Well, I can't say I'm sorry you did it, Stan. That
bastard certainly deserved what he got. I just hope he
was never able to practice medicine again."
"I heard that after he recovered, which took months,
he gave up his practice and started teaching at a
medical school," Stan said. "How about you? You ever
want to get back at the doctor who clipped you?"
"Well, I've got to tell you that the thought crossed
my mind more than once, but I never did do anything. I
never got the chance. You see, although I knew who it
was who clipped me, before I could do anything the
matter was out of my hands."
"How do you mean?" he asked
"One night this doctor went to a dance at his country
club. He was a pretty heavy drinker, I'd heard, and
that night he got pretty sloshed. Driving home, he ran
head-on into a bus and both he and his wife got killed
at the scene. That was that."
"Well, I can't say I'm very sorry to hear that,
although his wife was an innocent person, I guess,"
Stan said.
"You're right," I said. "I know damn well his wife
was innocent, and didn't deserve to die, but I don't
feel a bit guilty about that. Fuck no!"
"Really?" Stan asked.
"Of course not," I replied. "Who shoved the drinks
into his hand that night? Who was driving his damn
car? He was! Fuck him! He did it all to himself!" The
intensity of my emotional outburst would have shocked
Stan if he hadn't been of like mind.
"I hope you went and pissed on his grave," Stan said.
"Oh, no, that would have been only a symbolic
gesture. It wouldn't have accomplished anything. It
wouldn't even have made me feel better," I said.
"Oh, well, at least that's two circumcisers out of
the picture," Stan reflected.
"Maybe more than two," I said. "I've heard rumors of
this sort of thing happening before. We're not the
only two guys in this country who were circumcised
without our consent. I'm sure we're not the only two
who were pissed off about it."
"I've never heard of it happening, but it wouldn't
surprise me, the way you put it," Stan told me.
"I don't have anything definite," I said, "but one of
these days I'll do an Internet search to find out if
any doctors have been killed under mysterious
circumstances. I've already done a search using the
word `circumcision' and the phrase `doctor killed' but
turned up nothing." As we'd finished eating, Stan got
up to remove the plates from the table, and I saw that
his heavy-ended prick was swinging in a very
attractive way. As he put the plates into the sink, I
moved beside him and grasped the end of his nippled
foreskin. He turned and grasped mine, and for a moment
we looked into each others' eyes as our pricks began
engorging rapidly.
Wordlessly he led me into the bedroom and sat me down
on the bed. He began massaging my foreskin up and down
in long strokes, building my excitement rapidly. I
pumped his prick for a few long strokes to
reciprocate, until something occurred to me.
"Ever come inside your foreskin?" I asked.
"Sure, I do it all the time," he replied.
"No, I mean when you pinch the end shut and the cream
stays trapped and spreads all around your head," I
explained. "It's like when I pee in the shower and I
pinch the end shut and watch my foreskin balloon."
"I've done that in the shower," he answered. "I've
seen other uncut guys do it, but I never did that
while whacking off."
"Okay, suppose you let me do it to you. It just might
be a new sensation for you." As I spoke I pulled his
foreskin all the way forward to encapsulate his glans
and began working my thumb over the ridge through the
foreskin while my index finger pressed into the
triangular groove under the head.
"Ooooohhhh, that feels good," he murmured.
"Just relax. You can hold on to my prick if you want,
but don't try to make me come yet. I want to
concentrate on making you come first." Stan continued
to hold my prick but stopped stroking it.
"Okay, Jack. I know I'll make you come after you
finish me off." I applied more pressure with my thumb
as I swept it across his corona, feeling the rim
harden through the skin.
"Your balls are drawing up," I commented.
"This is really turning me on," he said as he lay
down on the bed.
"That's the idea, Stan. I want to feel your prick
throb when you let go. Just concentrate on your
sensations now and let me bring you to orgasm."
"Man, it's really building up," he murmured. "The way
you're stroking the rim..."
"That's it, Stan, just let it happen. Your balls are
tight now, and I can feel how hard the head is under
your foreskin."
"Oh, yeah," he whispered. "You're really doing it to
me." I knew he was getting close because I saw his
stomach muscles tighten and his face flush.
"Now I'm going to pinch the end of your foreskin with
my left thumb and finger," I explained. "You're
already dribbling a little lube out of it, and I want
to catch the explosion inside it when you start to
cream. That way you'll feel the hot juice all around
the head."
"Oh, yeah, do me..." Stan trailed off in an almost
agonized voice. I applied more pressure stroking his
corona and stroked it more quickly. I knew he was
primed for release, and needed it badly. Now Stan
began to grunt with each stroke, and I saw his legs
begin to tremble. His entire body tightened up with
excitement.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" he grunted explosively as I felt
the first powerful throb in his prick. His rigid prick
throbbed again and now I saw his foreskin begin to
distend with the volume of liquid filling it. I felt
another throb between my fingers as his hood ballooned
out, and I knew that the hot cream was running around
the bulging glans inside.
Stan continued to grunt, lost in the sensations of
his orgasm, as his throbbing prick pumped out more
juice and his foreskin ballooned to an almost
impossible size. I kept working on his swollen tip
through the skin, confident that the thick cream
masked the sensations and prevented over-stimulation.
Stan had raised his head to watch his throbbing prick
and distended foreskin, his jaw open and his eyes
glazed.
Stan's throbs weakened, and the intensity of his
grunts softened as his orgasm worked itself out. Now
he was merely gasping, and I felt the last residual
throbs in his glans as his orgasm expired and his body
began to relax. I held the tip of his foreskin pinched
tightly to prevent leakage and waited for him to
return to full consciousness.
About a minute later he propped himself up on his
elbows and I reached for some Kleenexes. Once I had
the wad of tissues under his prick I relaxed the
pressure on his foreskin orifice. We both smelled the
characteristic chlorine odor as we watched the thick
cream ooze from the fleshy pucker as his foreskin
shrunk from its ballooned shape.
"That was so hot," he said. "All that hot cream
around the head, and your fingers working on my rim..."
He trailed off. I knew precisely how it felt because
I'd done it to myself and had it done to me as well.
Now I squeezed his prick to milk the last drops from
under his foreskin and from his urethra, pressing a
finger along the underside of his shaft to force the
residue forward. Stan sighed in delight as I milked
his prick, and when I had dabbed every drop from the
pucker at the end of his foreskin he sat up looking at
me.
"Thanks, buddy," he said. "Now it's your turn. Lie
down the way I did and I'll give you the ride of your
life." I followed his instruction and lay on my back
as Stan again grasped the thick fleshy pucker of my
foreskin, which even with an erection projected beyond
the end of my glans. Using the thumb and forefinger of
his other hand he began massaging my corona through
the skin, while the index finger probed the underside
of my helmet.
"That feels good," I said, as my prick responded to
his touch by getting even harder.
"Man, you've got a really high flaring rim," he
commented. "Even though your skin's thicker than mine,
I can really feel it." He punctuated his comment by a
few rapid flicks over my corona, snapping the skin
over the many nerve endings to produce a responsive
throb deep in the root of my prick.
"I felt your dick jerk just now," he continued. "Your
helmet also feels harder through the skin."
"I've been hard longer than you have," I said. "I was
hard while doing you, and watching and feeling your
come got me really excited." Stan paused in his thumb
flicking and gave my helmet several fast squeezes
through my long thick foreskin, again producing throbs
deep inside me.
"I want to make you shoot inside your skin," he said.
"I'm going to keep the end pinched tight so none of
your juice escapes. I want to see if your skin
balloons out like mine."
"I know it does," I replied. "I've done that pissing
in the shower."
"When you did it to me just now, the juice stretching
my skin also stretched the nerve endings inside it.
That was a real thrill," he said.
"I know it was," I told him. "I knew you'd really
enjoy that." Stan's relentless flicking over my rim
was producing a tickle, which gradually spread all
over my glans. I began breathing heavily from the
excitement and the anticipation.
"I know this is getting to you," he said. "Your
breathing's changed, and I can see your stomach
muscles getting tighter."
"Any second now," I muttered. "You're really getting
me near the edge." Now I felt the tickling in my
helmet turning into a hot tingle, and I knew that I
was poised on the brink. My breathing was labored now,
and my entire body tensed involuntarily although I was
trying to remain relaxed to prolong the delicious
feeling of anticipation. My swollen helmet ached for
relief.
"Just a second more..." Stan coached me, as I felt
the surge of excitement swell to its crescendo and I
began grunting hard.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" I bellowed as the volcano erupted
deep inside me, sending its liquid lava burning up my
tube. I felt the hot liquid spreading over the front
dome of my helmet and this triggered another hot spasm
that left me gasping as the second torrent poured out
of my gaping orifice and all around my glans.
I cried out in agonized ecstasy as the third gush
erupted from my helmet, trapped and swirling all
around my glans, filling the groove behind my corona
and making my foreskin distend. My eyes were closed,
so I didn't see my foreskin ballooning, but I felt the
delicious stretching sensation, especially in the neck
of my prick right behind the rim.
Another explosion wracked my insides and I felt the
pulse in my urethra as the hot liquid forced its way
forward. I cried out again as I tumbled in the
free-fall of my orgasm, feeling the liquid fire engulf
my straining, swollen glans. I felt a somewhat weaker
throb, and then another, exhausting me as I drained my
tanks. Stan was still massaging my corona but the
distended hood prevented much friction from getting
through, and I felt no distress.
Now I was feeling the final weak spasms as I pumped
the residue up my penis to ooze from my gaping
orifice. I was helpless, drained, satiated, and
content as I slipped into the delicious daze that
followed. It took me a couple of minutes to recover
and then I opened my eyes and propped myself on one
elbow.
"Now watch how much cream you shot," Stan was saying
as he held a large wad of tissue under the end of my
prick. His fingers released the pressure on the end of
my foreskin and I saw a gush of my thick cream pour
onto the tissues. The heavy odor of chlorine filled
the air as the viscous liquid soaked in and spread in
a large wet spot. Now Stan was squeezing my helmet and
foreskin to extract more semen, and dabbing at the
thick pucker of my foreskin.
"I'll get the rest out of your dick," he said as he
ran a finger up the long bulge on the underside of my
shaft, squeezing the last drops from my prick. He
dabbed at the pucker and finished by leaning down and
kissing it.
"Stay here with me tonight," he urged as he lay down
beside me. "We both have to work tomorrow but we can
get up early so that you can get over to your place to
change." I thought this was a fabulous idea, and I
hugged him tightly to me before we fell asleep.

The end