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Cock Worshippers, Part IV

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 17 Aug 2003 1 comments
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Cock Worshippers, Part IV by Jackinnm (Jackinnm@yahoo.com)The following weekend Fred came to see me again. Ben was still out of town and we had decided not to wait for him to return, as we were eager to play with ourselves and with each other again. As soon as he was in the door we got naked, and for a long moment stood there examining each other. Fred was a couple of inches shorter than my six feet, with a stocky, muscular build. We both had brown hair and eyes, but our crotches were very different.Fred's cock was a tapered worm, with no hint of glans bulging through the smooth, seamless skin that formed a thick pucker at the end. Mine had a conspicuous bulge near the end of the foreskin where the outline of my helmet became clearly visible through its sheath. Underneath, my sac was taut, unlike Fred's low hangers."I haven't had my morning piss yet," said Fred and I noticed his cock was beginning to swell. I suspected he'd purposely held off so that we might pee together, as we had on previous occasions."Neither have I," I replied as I turned to lead the way to the bathroom, where we took up positions side by side at the sink. We both used the sink to pee, as we knew it saved water in our drought-ridden state. A trickle from the faucet washed the urine down the drain very efficiently because it saved water, compared to the massive gush from the toilet.We both skinned back to pee. I used the fingers of my right hand to peel back my hood far enough to lock behind my upturned, flaring rim, and relaxed my sphincter. Fred had to use both hands, and he held his hood back as he began his flow because otherwise it would immediately roll forward to cover the glans. Fred's tip was a perfectly formed helmet shape, like mine, but much smaller, about an inch long by an inch in diameter. By contrast, my helmet measured 1- 7/8" long and the same at its widest point near the rim. I knew from experience that his small helmet was as sensitive as mine, and responded equally well to the slightest stimulation."I've always had to skin back," he said. "Some guys can pee with their skins forward, but mine makes it splatter." Fred's stream was thinner and harder than mine because his small diameter meatus built up more pressure than my relatively large one."Me too. Ever since I was a kid I've been skinning it back. I did have a buddy who was able to pee without skinning back, and his stream was pretty neat. I guess his foreskin formed a perfect nozzle.""Yeah, I had a friend like that. His skin was even longer than mine, but the stream shot right out of the end without splattering. I was never able to do that, so I always skin back, even when sitting down." Our streams were mixing in the basin, flowing in a circle before spinning down the drain. Now our streams had diminished to dribbles, and we were almost empty. I reached under my sac to begin milking my residue, forcing it forward out the hole in my helmet. I squeezed my shaft, sliding the skin forward to get the last drops out just before my foreskin closed over the head. Fred did the same, but had to hold his foreskin back while he milked the shaft. When the last drop had fallen from his small slit, he released his grip and the thick rubbery hood slid smoothly over the head, forming a long nipple in front of it. I shut off the water and we went into the kitchen, where I prepared coffee."That coffee is going to fill us up again," he said. A mutual friend had shown us the trick of drinking coffee before any kind of sex play because the coffee served three purposes. A big dose of caffeine was stimulating, and a case of "coffee nerves" made sex more enjoyable. The pressure in our bladders added to the tension, helping to produce stronger, more explosive orgasms. Finally, urinating after sex flushed our plumbing, removing the last traces of sticky residue. “I really enjoy looking at your cock,” I said as I poured the coffee. We sat at adjacent chairs, half turned towards each other, to give us unimpeded views of each other’s crotches. “You’re a cock worshipper like me,” he replied. “I’m really fascinated by yours, how different it is from mine. The big tip is really outstanding.” He reached down to squeeze my big glans though its fleshy covering, producing a throb in my cock-root. “Your tip looks small and delicate compared to mine, but it gives you a man-sized orgasm. I know. I’ve seen you come.” I compressed his helmet through the thick skin, and from the look on his face I knew his cock-root was twitching with every squeeze. “Your balls are always tight,” he said. “Mine only get tight when I’m ready to come.” At the moment, his sac was spread in a fan-like shape on the padded seat, the two orbs visible through the slack hairy skin. I tickled the hairs on his scrotum with my fingertips as I continued to squeeze his glans, and watched the response as his penis began to swell in my fingers. “Your skin’s tight, like mine,” he said as he began sliding my hood back over my swelling head. “Still, it slides back easily over that big head. It’s really stretchy, and it locks behind your big rim. Smells nice too.” “Last time we put on a show for each other, showing each other how we jacked off,” I said. “Want to do it again, but a little differently this time?” “How differently?” “I showed you how I stroked my prick,” I explained, “and you showed me your favorite technique. How about we jack off for each other again, but this time using each other’s techniques?” “I’d like that a lot. You’ll have to coach me as I go along, though. I’m not sure I remember all the steps.” “Go ahead, start stroking your penis. We can do it right here while we’re drinking coffee. There’s no hurry.” We released each other’s pricks and Fred’s fingers began stroking his foreskin back over the head of his organ, as he’d seen me do. “Like this?” He had slid hid hood part-way back, revealing the rounded front dome of his small glans, which had changed from pinkish to purple with erection. “Right, just slide it back part-way to stretch the nerve endings, then let it go forward again.” “I know that’s why you do it, but my small head doesn’t stretch the skin as much as your big one does.” ”That’s right, but you can do a couple of things I can’t because your penis is built differently. Just keep sliding it up and down, a little more each time.” Fred’s fingers pulled his foreskin back farther this stroke, enough to reveal the twin lobes under the head where the two sides of his corona met, and the valley between them. Now he let go, and the thick fleshy shroud snapped forward to slide downhill and sheath the glans once more.“Now pull back again, almost to the rim,” I urged. “Do it slowly, so that you can feel the skin sliding over the head and the nerve endings stretching inside your foreskin.” Fred grasped his foreskin again, slowly moving it down his shaft, until only the flaring rim was still concealed, and I admired what he had revealed. His small glans was very much like mine, and his penis was about seven inches long, measuring from the tip of the head back to the pubic bone. Unlike my straight shaft, his had a graceful upward curve. Now he let go, and I hungrily watched his foreskin snap forward, pulled back into place by the thick gee-string that connected it to the hot spot under the head. “Now I’ll pull it back all the way,” he said as his fingers delicately retracted his hood again, moving slowly, until the entire helmet was exposed to my gaze. I sighed, awed by its beauty. The slit in the front of the rounded dome was short and tight, which was why his jets erupted with such force. “Now pull it back harder and see what happens.” Fred exerted more traction, and I saw his gee-string tighten, pulling the front of his glans down towards his balls. “Feels good, really good,” he said. “Now you’re feeling the nerve endings stretch, but a different set of nerve endings. Your gee-string’s thicker and shorter than mine, and it pulls the head down. Mine doesn’t pull my helmet down.”“I think I could come just pulling my skin down hard like this,” he said. “It’s really hot.”“Want to try coming that way?” I asked. “You’ve seen how I come with my foreskin pulled back.”“Yeah, but you also stroke it, hit that big rim with it.”“You can do that too. Just keep the foreskin drawn back hard after each stroke.” Fred began lightly bumping the rim of his glans with the thick fleshy collar, and I watched his excitement mount as his balls began drawing up against his body. I grabbed some paper towels and held them to catch his jets when they came. He was sitting upright, staring down at his penis, and I knew he’d be shooting straight out at orgasm. Fred continued his short strokes, bumping his rim and drawing back his foreskin hard to make the head dip on each back-stroke. The sight of his glans bobbing up and down was arousing to me, and my hand slid down to my penis and began sliding my foreskin up and down slightly. “The head’s getting darker,” I said. “Your balls are almost tight against your body. You’re getting there.” Fred paused, without letting go of his tightly-drawn foreskin, and drank the last of his coffee. I immediately refilled his cup. “I want to take a break. This is getting hot. Just give me a minute and I’ll start again.”“No hurry, Fred. You’ll come harder and longer if you take your time.” Fred began drinking from his cup again. Large clear drops were pouring out of his slit, running down his fingers. I placed a couple of paper towels under his crotch to catch the overflow.“It’s going to be really exciting, knowing that you’re here watching me,” he said.“I know. Having you watch while I did it last time was an extra turn-on for me too.”“I know you enjoy watching me, like I enjoy watching you.”“It’s really sexy, being here to see while you’re giving yourself pleasure.”“Don’t come until after I do,” he admonished. “No matter how turned on you get, save it until I can watch you do it.”“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful not to come. I’ll be here with the paper towels when you start to shoot. Just concentrate on the sensations.” “Okay, Jack, just don’t stroke too fast.” Fred resumed his careful stroking, bringing his foreskin collar up against the rim, then pulling back hard enough to make the glans dip. I knew that the nerve endings in his straining frenulum were sending hot messages of joy down his shaft, adding to his arousal. “Just do it, buddy,” I urged. “I want to see you come. I want to see your sexy helmet shoot. You’re really dripping now.” Fred’s legs spread out, his tightly contracted scrotum between his thighs, and I watched in fascination as the small cock-head dipped down and came back up when he released the tension, pouring clear lubricant over his tightly encircling fingers. “My tip’s starting to tingle….” He trailed off. His legs began to tremble, and I knew he was rapidly approaching the moment of truth, the point of no return, when he’d be caught up helplessly in the rush of sensations. “I can see you’re close. You’re all tensed up now. I bet your bladder’s full.” Fred’s other hand had slid between his legs, fingers gripping the tight skin of his scrotum and pulling downward. His head fell onto his chest and his eyes closed as the rapidly approaching orgasm dominated his sensations. I held the wad of paper towels inches in front of his straining glans. Fred let out a loud grunt as the first hot jet spewed from his slit. His body was operating on automatic now, and his tight fingers flew over his penis, pulling his foreskin fully over the spitting glans and then drawing back hard to stretch his gee-string and make the glossy head dip. His grunts filled the air as another gush poured from his throbbing glans and shot into the paper towels. I had to let go of my hard penis to avoid falling over the edge into orgasm because the sight was so exciting. Fred’s hot hard tip spit again, but with less force, and I brought the paper towels closer to catch his sperm. He shot again, grunting in ecstasy, and I touched the wad of paper to his hard purple tip to catch every drop. His body shuddered at the contact, and I realized that the paper’s light touch must have felt like a hard scrape against his sensitive glans. He rolled his foreskin forward again, and when he stripped it back he gushed another load, but this one merely poured onto the paper. Now he flinched hard as I brought the paper towels against his glans, and I realized his throbbing tip must have become super-sensitive. I lowered the paper to catch his dribbles without touching his cock, and watched as he enjoyed the last spasms while holding his skin tightly back and fully stretched. Friction on his glans, even by his smooth foreskin, was painful at this stage, and he let his cock-root pour out the last dribbles without stroking. As Fred’s breathing slowed I reflected on the absolute joy of watching another guy pleasure himself to orgasm. I’d enjoyed his orgasm vicariously, knowing exactly the sensations shooting through his crotch and penis, the hot tingle pervading his glans, and the glorious feeling of the hot torrents burning their way up his urethra and boiling out of his slit. More than that, I knew how his cock felt during orgasm, because my fingers had gripped it on previous occasions as the pulses pounded through it, and I’d felt the way his glans throbbed under my fingertips at the moment of release.I’d watched his face when he’d come and seen the way it had contorted with each wave of sensation. I knew the way his glans had become hyper-sensitive at the end of his orgasm, and how the slightest touch on it was too intense. Now I could sense the feeling of fulfillment, the after-shock of orgasm, the daze that held him still helpless after he’d drained himself. I let Fred sit quietly as I watched the tension drain from his body. He slumped in his chair, struggling back to full consciousness, His foreskin-coated penis arcing down over his balls, shrinking as the tension left it. The helmet was now hidden in its semen-soaked hideaway, still throbbing slightly, as the residue seeped from the tiny slit to provide another layer of moisture that kept the delicate tissues tender and sensitive. When he opened his eyes I leaned over and kissed his lips, the contact silently expressing my feelings. His eyes bored intensely into mine reciprocating the rush of emotion. We didn’t need words. We knew what we were feeling, and what each other was feeling. His hands cupped his genitals as he spoke: “I think it’s your turn now, if you haven’t shot your load already,” he said with a sudden grin, because he saw my rampant six-inch erection, the swollen glans bulging inside its covering of foreskin. “I don’t know how you keep that big head covered, even with a hard-on. You’ve got a lot of foreskin, man, and you know how to use it. Now use it the way I did last time, and let me see you come.” “You kept the head completely covered, didn’t you?” I commented. “I’m going to do the same, and I remember how you twisted your hood to increase the sensations.” My fingers began stroking my foreskin, using a forward stroke to make it bunch at the tip instead of sliding it back over my glans. Now I pulled back until just the tip of my glans came into view, letting him see my slit, as I knew he’d comment on it: “I like the way your slit opens up into that teardrop shape,” he said. “Every time you get hard, I can see into the hole.” I brought my foreskin all the way up again, this time with a sensual twisting motion that stretched the nerve endings and gave a satisfying sideways friction to the glans. My nerve endings came alive, absorbing the sensations, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold off for long. “This’ll be fast,” I said. “I’m all hot from watching you, and I’m almost ready to pop.” My fingers moved a little faster, tightening their grip to exert more traction on my thick fleshy hood as they slid it back, then forward again with an extra twist. “I want to help you,” he said as he cupped my tight scrotum. “You don’t mind, do you?” His fingers kneaded my sac and I felt an extra rush of sensations as he moved the tight skin over my balls. “No, that’s fine. Go right ahead,” I murmured as I stepped up my pace. The sensations were building and I knew that the orgasm would soon sweep over me like a slowly breaking wave. “Since I’m not going to be able to see the sperm shooting out of that big head, I’m going to put a finger behind your balls so I can feel your tube throb when you come. I just love to feel that.” One of his fingers slipped behind my sac, finding the exact place where my urethra ran under the thick skin of my perineum, waiting for the first pulse. “If you really want to see the head when I come, I’ll be glad to skin it back for you when I start shooting,” I said. “No, just do it the way I do. I’ll be able to feel you come, and that’s enough. Anyway, your juice is going to be pouring out of your foreskin, so I’ll get to see that.” I kept pulling and twisting my foreskin, feeling the bulge of my big helmet through the hood. The twisting motion was producing a tickling feeling in my corona, and soon it spread over the whole glans. “I’m getting a tickle in the head,” I said. I wanted to keep Fred informed regarding my progress. “I can just see that big head, all swollen, ready to pop. Let me know when it starts to tingle.” “Almost there,” I muttered. The pressure in my bladder added to the building tension in my body, and now my legs spread out, as they’d done last time. “Man, you’ve got a lot of skin,” he said. “You can pull it right over that big head and you’ve still got enough to make a pucker beyond it.” Now I was very tense and filled with anticipation, awaiting the impending orgasm. I closed my eyes as the sensations in my cock-head turned into a hot tingle. “It’s all tingly,” I whispered. I felt how hard and swollen my glans was through the skin as I moved it and applied another twist. My awareness of the outside world dimmed because all my attention was now focused in my straining cock, filled with an ache that told me I urgently needed release during the next few seconds. My breathing was heavy and gasping, and I was poised on the edge. Now my glans exploded with sensations, a heavy throbbing that had shot up like lightning from my cock-root. I cried out as the first heavy contraction sent a hot torrent boiling up my urethra, and I felt it round the upward curve where my tube went through my glans. “I can feel it!” I dimly heard Fred exclaim in the distance. His fingertip had felt the pulse of my jet as it had passed through my urethra. I felt him tug on my scrotal sac as I was shooting my second jet, and it sent a thrill through my cock-root and up my shaft. I felt the hot fluid swirling around my glans, and the excess poured out onto my encircling fingers. I felt another jolt coming, and impulsively I yanked back hard on my foreskin to liberate the glans and let Fred see it spewing. Now I pulled my foreskin all the way up the helmet, twisting hard, and sending another hot jolt of sensation down my shaft. My frenzied cock-root pulsed again, and more cream boiled up my urethra, pouring into my foreskin. After two more strong jets, my orgasm subsided into a steady dribble, and suddenly my glans became super-sensitive. I stopped stroking, and felt the scrape of paper towels on the end of my foreskin, which was not excessively sensitive. I was slumped in the chair, dazed and utterly drained. My heart was still pounding in my chest, but gradually it slowed. My cries had subsided into a low whimpering, and the hard contractions of orgasm had turned into a residual tingling in my penis and its root. My eyes were still closed and I felt torpid, totally unmotivated. I felt Fred’s hand caressing my hair, and his lips pressing against mine. Then he whispered in my ear: “I saw it when you stripped back and shot into the air. That was beautiful. Your tip was so deep purple, and the cream was so white.” I opened my eyes to see him huddling next to my chair. “Thanks for the show. I got as much out of it as you did mine.” “Glad you enjoyed it,” I said. “It was really hot for me too, knowing you were watching. My penis appreciates an audience just like yours does.” “Your tip is still big,” he commented. “Your prick’s shrinking but that big head’s still swollen under the skin.” I felt a sudden nerve-tingling pull as his experts fingers flicked my foreskin back to lock behind the ridge. “I love to see that big helmet. Now it’s all wet with your cream, and you’re still dripping from the hole.” “Now that you’ve got my foreskin back, it’ll stay swollen for a long time.” “I know. I’ve seen how that thick foreskin acts like a tourniquet when you lock it back behind the head.” My shaft was soft now, but my glans was still flaring and dark purple, turgid with retained blood. Fred leaned forward and I felt the light touch of his tongue on my tip, licking a drop from the end. He milked my shaft and lapped up the residue that poured from the teardrop shaped hole at the end of my helmet. “I like the way you smell, and I like the way you taste,” he said, and then he worked the viscous drops around the inside of his mouth with his tongue. I stood, pulling him up by the armpits, and then knelt in front of him. “I want a taste of you, too,” I said as I steadied his penis with my fingers and probed the end of his foreskin with my tongue. I inhaled his musky aroma and tasted his saline viscosity as my tongue-tip pushed deep into his fleshy tube, caressing the tender head inside. Our erections were down, and I felt the pressure in my bladder become intense. Fred also did, for he asked: “You ready to flush yourself?” I nodded affirmatively and we walked to the bathroom, where we took our usual positions. As my foreskin was still locked back behind my corona, Fred just lifted my penis to aim it into the basin. I skinned his hood back and held it tightly to prevent it from slipping forward as he relaxed his sphincter. His thin hard stream mixed with my thicker and slower one in the basin, and I turned on the tap. We stood silently for over a minute, enjoying the watery release, the delicious sluicing of fluid down our tubes, and the relaxation as our bladder walls contracted. “This is so sexy,” he said as his other arm slipped around my waist. “It’s not an orgasm but it feels so good.” I knew exactly what he meant because we were feeling identical sensations. My flow caused an intense tickle as it passed through my urethra, and I guessed that his, given the back pressure from his tight slit, produced an even sharper tickle. “You have a tickling feeling in your urethra?” I asked. I really wanted to know. “Oh, yeah, you could call it that, I guess, even a hot tickle. It’s even hotter right at the tip, where it’s stretching my slit.” My flow had subsided but his thin stream was still squirting into the sink. I pressed a fingertip into the underside of his penis, right where I held his foreskin, and watched his stream slow to a dribble as I pinched it off. “I bet that’s different,” I murmured into his ear. Fred turned his head and kissed my lips in reply. I released the pressure on his urethra as I pushed my tongue between his unresisting lips, tenderly twirling around his tongue. Fred didn’t break the kiss until his bladder had totally drained. Now we milked each other’s urethras, lovingly pushing the liquid residues forward and watching the golden drops emerge from our slits. Once Fred was totally drained, I simply released his fleshy sheath and it slipped forward to engulf his glans decisively. Fred pushed the last drop from my now shrunken slit and pulled my foreskin over the hump, smoothing it over the contours of my big helmet. By silent agreement, we were ready for a nap, and we lay down on the bed, soon slipping into delicious oblivion.