Unexpected Singapore Experience
I lived in Singapore for three years when I was aged around 30, probably just past my peak wanking time, (which I believe for men is between 15 and 25) but still needing to wank daily.
One day I had arranged to play tennis with some guys from work; Mike, Dave and Ian. I was the oldest at 30, they were all early-mid 20's, but rather conventional and not really the types I'd expect to get their cocks out and share a wank in the changing rooms. We had hired a public tennis court near where we worked for the early evening, the hour just before it got dark, which it always did around seven pm.
None of us was very good and I wasn't particularly engaged in the game. What I was actually thinking about was having a wank; you know that feeling, when you are doing something else, but all that stays in your head is the thought of getting hold of your penis and rubbing it until you orgasm. So my tennis wasn't that good, but my penis was starting to grow a bit in my tennis shorts and try as I might, I couldn't forget it. Suddenly the heavens opened, as they often did in Singapore, and the downpour of warm rain came. No way we could carry on.
We went to the old wooden building by the side of the courts to wait and see if it would stop. There was a verandah around the outside of the shed and inside was a room with a desk where an Indian guy was sitting. He looked after the courts and was the man you had to see to make a booking. He saw us waiting on the verandah and came out to see if we were OK. I thought I noticed him giving me a slight smile and I definitely noticed him looking down at my shorts. By now, with me still thinking about having a wank and hoping that the rain wouldn't stop and that we'd call the game off, I had a decided bulge in my tennis shorts. I had pants on, but my cock was pushing against them as it was straining to get out and get played with.
After another few minutes, we called it a day. I was intrigued by the Indian man, who continued to give me looks from inside the building, but didn't know how to take it further with all my work colleagues around. So I left the tennis courts with them and went to the bus shelter nearby. The three of them lived quite close to the courts, whereas I was a bus ride away, so they bid me goodbye and walked on in the rain. I waited until they had gone out of sight, then started to walk back to the tennis courts and the hut. I didn't even know what I was going to say or do, I just sensed that there might be a bit of cock fun waiting for me there. As I walked up to the building, I pulled my pants back and let as much of my cock as possible free from the pants constriction. Immediately it made a small 'tent' in my shorts, with the glans pushing and straining against the cotton.
I walked into the building and asked the Indian man who was sitting behind his desk how much it was to book a court for next week. He couldn't take his eyes off the tent in my shorts. He kept looking at it and not really answering my question. Then he asked; 'Do you want a shower? You've been sweating playing and now you are wet. Why not have a shower here in the back and then you can dry off.' I didn't need asking twice.
He showed me the shower which was a single cubicle in a rather tatty old changing room. There were some old tennis clothes in there, and that stale sweat smell that you get, especially from used jock straps. He found me a towel as I peeled my shirt off and took off my shoes. As I got to take my shorts off, he turned and went back into the office. I was bemused. Had I mis-read this? Did he actually mean 'Do you want a shower?' without any cock fun? As soon as my pants were down the cock was out and up. I got into the shower and started soaping myself down. It was a bit awkward, my hard-on really needed attention, but maybe this wasn't the place to do it after all.
Suddenly I heard him come back into the room. I half-turned, not sure now if I should show my full erection. He had rolled up his sleeves and asked; 'Do you want me to soap your back?' I handed him the soap and turned back and to face away from him. And then it started; the most gentle and sensual movement over my skin; it was like nothing I had ever had before. I suppose it was a kind of massage; it felt divine. I had thought I was already hard. No way. His touch was so erotic that my penis strained and grew even bigger and throbbed. The head was twitching as he was giving such a good sensation. He gradually worked his way down my back and got to my buttocks, which he soaped in a circular movement. I couldn't help moving and squeezing them a bit, the pleasure was so intense. And then he slowly and with a feather-like touch slid his soaped hand under by bum-hole and slipped it right through to my balls. I went up on tip-toe and gasped, it was so exquisite. It felt like I might cum at any moment, the pleasure and the stimulation were so heightened. 'I think you need to wash off the soap now and get dry,' he said. and turned to leave the changing room.
Again, I was bemused, and more than a little disappointed. I had been building myself up, all the time he was soaping my back, to him turning me round and putting his soaped hand over my cock and bringing me off. I was throbbing and desperate to cum, and he had just walked away. I stepped out and started to towel down, the backs of my legs and my chest. I daren't go near my still intensely throbbing cock; even brushing it with a towel made me wince with pleasure and frustration. I suddenly looked up to see the Indian man walking back in naked. He had taken off his shirt and tracksuit bottoms and stood there with a large limp cock. He took the towel from me and turned me around and started to rub my back again, doing similar movements to when he had held the soap, only this time using the towel. It was like having a kind of dry skin scrub, and unbelievable though it may sound, the sensation was even better with a towel than it was with soap.
Now I completely gave way to the pleasure and started to moan a little bit as he made my whole naked skin tingle. He worked down my back, spent a lot longer on the buttocks this time before moving down the backs of my thighs and down my calves. I was in heaven and I actually couldn't keep my hand from my cock. I held it gently and started to wank very slowly, but only for a minute, as he strongly moved my hand away and, without saying anything, pushed my arm back down by my side. I was waiting for the hand to come through under my bum again and dry my balls; it never happened. Instead, he turned me round and quickly rubbed down my chest in one swift movement and then held my cock in his towelled hand. He just held it firmly. He squeezed it the tiniest bit and I let out a cry and just about came. I was raising my feet up and down and almost writhing in pleasure as his hand held my cock still and firm, occasionally squeezing it. I had never known such pleasure through my whole body. I had also never known such an urge to ejaculate. My ball sack felt like it would burst. Please wank me, I kept thinking. Please.
And then he did, very, very slowly. Each stroke was a million sensations. I wanted to come so much. I was moving about trying to increase his speed. His other hand came down firmly on my shoulder and he held me still and smiled at me. I realised he was in control here and once again, I gave myself up to his touch and let him lead me wherever he wanted. His wanking was the most sensual I have ever known. It was slow and varied, sometimes a large pull down that made the glans stand out and shine and throb, and sometimes a gentle small movement around the frenulum that made your buttocks squeeze whether you wanted them to or not. He was using his whole fist, but not usually with a tight grip or with all the fingers; sometimes he brushed the underside of my cock with the part of his little finger nearest the hand, the lightest of touches the most sensuous of tingles. As the pleasure was so fantastic, I wanted to return some of it for him and put my hand out to take his cock. It was long and thick, but still flaccid. I slowly stroked his cock, aware that I could never give him the sort of sensations he was giving me; I didn't know how, but I wanted to try. He let me keep stroking, and his cock got a bit longer and rose a little bit, but it never became erect.
This wanking of each other went of for what seemed like an age until my breathing started to get heavier. I tried to relax to let the pleasure continue, but I realised I couldn't stop it now. He didn't increase his speed, he continued in the same sensual and gentle way, forever changing the pressure and stroke. I looked down and I swear my cock had never been as big, the glans never so bright and rounded, so pulsing and throbbing. It was indeed a weapon primed to shoot, and shoot it did. The first spunk went right up his arm and onto his hairy chest, the second lot onto his pubes and cock and the next lot onto his legs and feet. And still it kept spurting out all over his lower arm and hand. I was having to suppress shrieks of total pleasure, instead part grunting, squealing and gasping, saying 'No' and 'Oh yes' as his spunk-covered hand continued to gently massage my veiny red and purple cock.
My hand still held his cock, still stroked it. When I shot, his cock bulged and twitched but remained limp. It was one of the meatiest limp cocks I had seen and with a very thick foreskin. I tried to increase my stroke to make him cum, but he never did. After a while, he rested his hand on my arm and so I stopped wanking him, it was strange; he had given me the most sensuous experience of my life and yet he had not cum himself. He didn't seem to mind and he certainly didn't bring himself off. He said he would need a quick shower now, because of all my cum, and he deftly soaped himself down, pulling on his long hanging penis but not wanking himself. I was shattered. My cock was still throbbing and hard like it usually is BEFORE a climax, not after. And it wouldn't go down. I just stood there, naked, with this purple stiffly erect cock, still occasionally dripping some semen. I had just had the most bizarre and incredible wank experience of my life. It was hard to believe and I wasn't quite sure what was happening.
My Indian friend was much more grounded. He quickly towelled himself down and got dressed and told me I must do the same and quickly as other people would be arriving soon. I was still in a daze and had to force my cock sideways into my pants, still erect. It didn't go down until left the tennis courts, got to the bus stop and actually got on the bus to go home. Before I left, still with a bulge in my shorts, he looked at me right in the eyes and said; 'Please come back again any time you want to book a court.' I never quite knew what that meant. Was he telling me this could happen again, or was he telling me it was a one-off experience that took advantage of the situation; the situation of me having a massive erection coming off the tennis court and desperately wanting to wank. I decided that I could never repeat the ecstasy he had brought me that evening and so I never went back. It remains one of the most intense and sensual wanks I have ever been given. Even now, 25 years later, I can remember it as if it had just happened. And so can my cock.
One day I had arranged to play tennis with some guys from work; Mike, Dave and Ian. I was the oldest at 30, they were all early-mid 20's, but rather conventional and not really the types I'd expect to get their cocks out and share a wank in the changing rooms. We had hired a public tennis court near where we worked for the early evening, the hour just before it got dark, which it always did around seven pm.
None of us was very good and I wasn't particularly engaged in the game. What I was actually thinking about was having a wank; you know that feeling, when you are doing something else, but all that stays in your head is the thought of getting hold of your penis and rubbing it until you orgasm. So my tennis wasn't that good, but my penis was starting to grow a bit in my tennis shorts and try as I might, I couldn't forget it. Suddenly the heavens opened, as they often did in Singapore, and the downpour of warm rain came. No way we could carry on.
We went to the old wooden building by the side of the courts to wait and see if it would stop. There was a verandah around the outside of the shed and inside was a room with a desk where an Indian guy was sitting. He looked after the courts and was the man you had to see to make a booking. He saw us waiting on the verandah and came out to see if we were OK. I thought I noticed him giving me a slight smile and I definitely noticed him looking down at my shorts. By now, with me still thinking about having a wank and hoping that the rain wouldn't stop and that we'd call the game off, I had a decided bulge in my tennis shorts. I had pants on, but my cock was pushing against them as it was straining to get out and get played with.
After another few minutes, we called it a day. I was intrigued by the Indian man, who continued to give me looks from inside the building, but didn't know how to take it further with all my work colleagues around. So I left the tennis courts with them and went to the bus shelter nearby. The three of them lived quite close to the courts, whereas I was a bus ride away, so they bid me goodbye and walked on in the rain. I waited until they had gone out of sight, then started to walk back to the tennis courts and the hut. I didn't even know what I was going to say or do, I just sensed that there might be a bit of cock fun waiting for me there. As I walked up to the building, I pulled my pants back and let as much of my cock as possible free from the pants constriction. Immediately it made a small 'tent' in my shorts, with the glans pushing and straining against the cotton.
I walked into the building and asked the Indian man who was sitting behind his desk how much it was to book a court for next week. He couldn't take his eyes off the tent in my shorts. He kept looking at it and not really answering my question. Then he asked; 'Do you want a shower? You've been sweating playing and now you are wet. Why not have a shower here in the back and then you can dry off.' I didn't need asking twice.
He showed me the shower which was a single cubicle in a rather tatty old changing room. There were some old tennis clothes in there, and that stale sweat smell that you get, especially from used jock straps. He found me a towel as I peeled my shirt off and took off my shoes. As I got to take my shorts off, he turned and went back into the office. I was bemused. Had I mis-read this? Did he actually mean 'Do you want a shower?' without any cock fun? As soon as my pants were down the cock was out and up. I got into the shower and started soaping myself down. It was a bit awkward, my hard-on really needed attention, but maybe this wasn't the place to do it after all.
Suddenly I heard him come back into the room. I half-turned, not sure now if I should show my full erection. He had rolled up his sleeves and asked; 'Do you want me to soap your back?' I handed him the soap and turned back and to face away from him. And then it started; the most gentle and sensual movement over my skin; it was like nothing I had ever had before. I suppose it was a kind of massage; it felt divine. I had thought I was already hard. No way. His touch was so erotic that my penis strained and grew even bigger and throbbed. The head was twitching as he was giving such a good sensation. He gradually worked his way down my back and got to my buttocks, which he soaped in a circular movement. I couldn't help moving and squeezing them a bit, the pleasure was so intense. And then he slowly and with a feather-like touch slid his soaped hand under by bum-hole and slipped it right through to my balls. I went up on tip-toe and gasped, it was so exquisite. It felt like I might cum at any moment, the pleasure and the stimulation were so heightened. 'I think you need to wash off the soap now and get dry,' he said. and turned to leave the changing room.
Again, I was bemused, and more than a little disappointed. I had been building myself up, all the time he was soaping my back, to him turning me round and putting his soaped hand over my cock and bringing me off. I was throbbing and desperate to cum, and he had just walked away. I stepped out and started to towel down, the backs of my legs and my chest. I daren't go near my still intensely throbbing cock; even brushing it with a towel made me wince with pleasure and frustration. I suddenly looked up to see the Indian man walking back in naked. He had taken off his shirt and tracksuit bottoms and stood there with a large limp cock. He took the towel from me and turned me around and started to rub my back again, doing similar movements to when he had held the soap, only this time using the towel. It was like having a kind of dry skin scrub, and unbelievable though it may sound, the sensation was even better with a towel than it was with soap.
Now I completely gave way to the pleasure and started to moan a little bit as he made my whole naked skin tingle. He worked down my back, spent a lot longer on the buttocks this time before moving down the backs of my thighs and down my calves. I was in heaven and I actually couldn't keep my hand from my cock. I held it gently and started to wank very slowly, but only for a minute, as he strongly moved my hand away and, without saying anything, pushed my arm back down by my side. I was waiting for the hand to come through under my bum again and dry my balls; it never happened. Instead, he turned me round and quickly rubbed down my chest in one swift movement and then held my cock in his towelled hand. He just held it firmly. He squeezed it the tiniest bit and I let out a cry and just about came. I was raising my feet up and down and almost writhing in pleasure as his hand held my cock still and firm, occasionally squeezing it. I had never known such pleasure through my whole body. I had also never known such an urge to ejaculate. My ball sack felt like it would burst. Please wank me, I kept thinking. Please.
And then he did, very, very slowly. Each stroke was a million sensations. I wanted to come so much. I was moving about trying to increase his speed. His other hand came down firmly on my shoulder and he held me still and smiled at me. I realised he was in control here and once again, I gave myself up to his touch and let him lead me wherever he wanted. His wanking was the most sensual I have ever known. It was slow and varied, sometimes a large pull down that made the glans stand out and shine and throb, and sometimes a gentle small movement around the frenulum that made your buttocks squeeze whether you wanted them to or not. He was using his whole fist, but not usually with a tight grip or with all the fingers; sometimes he brushed the underside of my cock with the part of his little finger nearest the hand, the lightest of touches the most sensuous of tingles. As the pleasure was so fantastic, I wanted to return some of it for him and put my hand out to take his cock. It was long and thick, but still flaccid. I slowly stroked his cock, aware that I could never give him the sort of sensations he was giving me; I didn't know how, but I wanted to try. He let me keep stroking, and his cock got a bit longer and rose a little bit, but it never became erect.
This wanking of each other went of for what seemed like an age until my breathing started to get heavier. I tried to relax to let the pleasure continue, but I realised I couldn't stop it now. He didn't increase his speed, he continued in the same sensual and gentle way, forever changing the pressure and stroke. I looked down and I swear my cock had never been as big, the glans never so bright and rounded, so pulsing and throbbing. It was indeed a weapon primed to shoot, and shoot it did. The first spunk went right up his arm and onto his hairy chest, the second lot onto his pubes and cock and the next lot onto his legs and feet. And still it kept spurting out all over his lower arm and hand. I was having to suppress shrieks of total pleasure, instead part grunting, squealing and gasping, saying 'No' and 'Oh yes' as his spunk-covered hand continued to gently massage my veiny red and purple cock.
My hand still held his cock, still stroked it. When I shot, his cock bulged and twitched but remained limp. It was one of the meatiest limp cocks I had seen and with a very thick foreskin. I tried to increase my stroke to make him cum, but he never did. After a while, he rested his hand on my arm and so I stopped wanking him, it was strange; he had given me the most sensuous experience of my life and yet he had not cum himself. He didn't seem to mind and he certainly didn't bring himself off. He said he would need a quick shower now, because of all my cum, and he deftly soaped himself down, pulling on his long hanging penis but not wanking himself. I was shattered. My cock was still throbbing and hard like it usually is BEFORE a climax, not after. And it wouldn't go down. I just stood there, naked, with this purple stiffly erect cock, still occasionally dripping some semen. I had just had the most bizarre and incredible wank experience of my life. It was hard to believe and I wasn't quite sure what was happening.
My Indian friend was much more grounded. He quickly towelled himself down and got dressed and told me I must do the same and quickly as other people would be arriving soon. I was still in a daze and had to force my cock sideways into my pants, still erect. It didn't go down until left the tennis courts, got to the bus stop and actually got on the bus to go home. Before I left, still with a bulge in my shorts, he looked at me right in the eyes and said; 'Please come back again any time you want to book a court.' I never quite knew what that meant. Was he telling me this could happen again, or was he telling me it was a one-off experience that took advantage of the situation; the situation of me having a massive erection coming off the tennis court and desperately wanting to wank. I decided that I could never repeat the ecstasy he had brought me that evening and so I never went back. It remains one of the most intense and sensual wanks I have ever been given. Even now, 25 years later, I can remember it as if it had just happened. And so can my cock.
Posted on: 2020-05-26 00:00:01 |
Author: