We currently have stories with more being added every day

Final fling by Andrew

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 07 Jul 2001 1 comments
1 likes views Category: Sex Stories Male Gay Tags:

"It's as long as my arm" murmured Steve with satisfaction as he unzipped my fly, inserted his hand into my pants and drew out my eight and a half inches. I had not seen Steve for nearly a year, as I had left school before my 18th birthday and he had stayed on an extra year to try for University entrance. He lived in the countryside about 90 miles from London and I had set off on my motorbike after contacting him by phone and learning that his family were going on their usual August vacation to Cornwall. He could fit me in for one afternoon, one night and the following morning. That was good enough for me. During our last term at school together we had been made prefects, and it was a privilege for prefects to choose their own time for going to bed in the dormitories so that they could continue with their academic work as long as they needed to. I had had only a little casual sex with Steve up to that point, with the exception of that "first time" which I recounted in my first story. I remember that once he showed me how he masturbated (we called it "having a shag"). We found ourselves alone in the dormitory one evening, having gone to bed early, and he drew back the sheet, put his fist round the base and middle of his thick cock and stroked it vigorously. He had to do it this way because his foreskin was so tight that it did not retract at all and there was just a little space at the tip where I could see his pee-and-cum hole. It actually hurt him to try to push back the foreskin. As he approached his climax, I could see his eyes were closed in ecstasy and his hand pumped harder and harder. Then he blew his load with six or seven jets of thick cream all over his chest. I asked him once whether he could count the number of spasms (including those that ejaculated spunk) and he told me he had counted over thirty. This amazed me as I had never got beyond 25; and another boy I asked the same of only got to seven. Another casual occasion was when we were 15 or 16 and we repaired to the "drying room" - a basement room with no window and lots of hot pipes to dry rugby kit. He liked to jack off standing up, and because he was right-handed, he wanted me to stand behind him and use my left hand to jack him off as a novelty. I didn't really want to do this because watching him shoot his load was tremendous and I couldn't see this if I stood behind him. However, with my stiff cock pressing against his flank, I could hear the satisfying "splat" on the floor as he came. The only time I had tried to shoot standing up, the feeling at the point of orgasm was so intense that I buckled at the knees and nearly fell over. Anyway, to continue with my story. There were about eight prefects and one September night we discovered in the downstairs changing room that we were the last two to be going upstairs to the dormitories. This just happened, it was not in any way planned. But as we both changed into our pyjamas the same thought must have crossed our minds because I could see his dick stiffening and could feel similar sensations in my own. It was not long before we were "comparing notes" again and considering where we could go to explore further. Upstairs there was a room exclusively for the use of prefects but the risk was that another prefect would come in while we were at play. The risk, however, was worth taking, and with our stiff cocks sticking out in front of us but well camouflaged by our dressing gowns, we made our way upstairs and quietly along to the room reserved for prefects. It had windows with curtains and a gas fire, so while I drew the curtains really tight to make sure no-one could look in, Steve lit the fire (to give us some light) and lay down in front of it with his head on a cushion from one of the chairs. He looked wonderful in the glowing light of the fire. He had grown to a sturdy 6 feet in height with a lot of muscle, a superb cock and a ball sac of generous dimensions. His dressing gown was open and as I lay down beside him I undid the top button of his pyjama jacket, then the next below and then the next until his manly chest was bared. Then slowly onto the pants where the draw-string needed to be untied before I could reveal the wonders underneath. Soon that great dick was revealed in all its stiffened beauty and I closed my fingers round its base and middle as he had shown me two years earlier. It felt wonderful because it was much thicker round the middle than mine and the much worked-on skin moved up and down with practised ease. I believe he used to shag himself far more than the average (whatever that was amongst us boys.) Once in the morning (in the toilets standing up and jacking off into the bowl) and once again in bed at night (into his handkerchief.) On Sundays we had to attend church in the morning but I expect he made up for it in the afternoon when there were no lessons or organized games. That night, in front of the glow of the fire, he produced a spectacular orgasm, saying when it was over "That was bloody marvellous." I didn't want him to shag me because our techniques were so different. I liked to pull back my foreskin and let it stay back while I massaged the head (and particularly under the head) with my pre-cum. Steve never got any pre-cum, he was unable to retract his foreskin and he was much more vigorous at stroking than I needed to be. But I certainly put on a show of my own for him! I suppose we met again like that another five or six times and then the term was over and with it my time at school. There were other things to do in life, but not, as it happened, other men. The idea of seeing him again at his home came to me because I had to go to London (on my motorbike) for another reason which I forget now and I was curious to see if he had changed at all. When I arrived I was introduced to his mother and younger sister, we had lunch, and afterwards he suggested a walk in the nearby fields. He took with him his .22 gun for shooting any crows which we might happen upon, but it was fleshier guns and a different kind of shooting I guess we both had in mind. Soon we were in deep countryside and he spotted a crow sitting on a branch of a tree, but we were both reluctant to use the firearm on it. The sun was shining, the grass was dry and when he suggested we move on I told him I "felt rooted to the spot" which instantly conveyed to him the message that I was willing for some cock-fun. That's when he unzipped my fly and put his hand in my pants. I think when you are young and not very experienced you try to jack off another man by doing to him what you do to yourself. Anyway, even though we were standing up, Steve grabbed my dick with his fist along its middle and started stroking it fiercely. This was not how I liked to achieve orgasm but the feeling of an unaccustomed hand rubbing my dick quickly brought to me to the edge and I said "I'm close to cumming" and took his hand off my tool so that I would not actually cum there and then. "What, already !" he exclaimed; " that's quick !" I sort-of felt ashamed so to cover my confusion and to stop his hand from once more asserting its authority over my dick, I knelt down in front of him and undid his fly. It was great to have that wonderful tool of his in my hand again and I wondered how best to proceed, given that I had stopped him "doing" me. So I suggested that we should stop right there and asked him if, instead, he could come to my bed that night after the household had gone to sleep. I had never actually been "done" by anyone's hand but my own and reckoned that if my first time was at hand, then bed would be the pleasantest place for it to happen. I have often wondered if we made the right choice. It was still eight hours to go before we could meet and in that time the sac of juice that discharges at orgasm refills and we could have shot our loads in that field and been fresh for more at midnight. On the other hand had we gone ahead in that field we would have quickly fulfilled the purpose for which we had met and dulled the anticipation of more excitement to come. Looking back on it in retrospect I wish we had gone ahead in that field as well as in bed at night. There were so few opportunities for mutual masturbation in those days and one is only young once ! Anyway the die was cast and waiting for supper and then for his parents to go to bed seemed to take an age. Even worse was the half hour he deemed necessary for his parents to be well and truly asleep before he set off to join me. I could hardly contain myself for excitement as I heard the floorboards creak (it was an old house) as he neared my room and his opening of my bedroom door was like a mental orgasm ! I revelled in the secrecy and the darkness of it all and remembered that superb lake of cum which I had first felt on his stomach when we were 14. He got into bed with me and soon I had undone his pyjama jacket in just the same way I had used in the prefects' room. I didn't wear a pyjama jacket and it was great to feel his manly frame lying next to mine. Quickly I undid the draw-string of his pants, spread the fly wide and placed my hand over his enormous cock. He gave a sigh of satisfaction as I fondled it and after I had played with it for a bit, wishing to prolong the moment before the vigorous stroking which would bring him off, he put his head down under the bedclothes, slid his hand down my chest and stomach, curled his fist round my dick and before I could fully understand what was going on he had put his mouth gently over my throbbing tool. This was a first-time experience for me and I had to be careful not to cum at once in his mouth. Thinking about it, though, it seemed a bit unnatural so I drew his head away and suggested he bring me off with his hand. He needed no further prompting and so for the first time in my life I spurted with the hand of another on my rock-hard cock. His hand got liberally dosed too ! Then it was his turn. "Now for the big gun" I said, as I took it into my eager fist, and soon that wonderful lake appeared on his chest and stomach which I remembered with such satisfaction from the first occasion of our having sex together. This time I rubbed my fingers in it and spread it all round his tummy. We wiped ourselves dry with the towel Steve had brought with him and he creaked off down the corridor to his bedroom as if he'd just been to the bathroom. I slept very well that night and woke up to hear him taking a shower the next morning. When we met at the breakfast table it was just like meeting as good friends - which is just what we were, of course. That morning we spent boating on the river made famous by the artist John Constable and soon after lunch I was on my motorbike, setting off on the 240-mile haul back to my home. It was only a little single cylinder 250cc two-stroke and against the wind on the flat fenlands it could little do more than 30 mph. By the time I was within fifty miles of my home it was evening and I needed a rest. The engine had been throbbing between my legs for many hours and my back ached so I relished the thought of lying down for a few minutes. Seeing a convenient gate at the roadside I pulled in, switched off the engine, climbed over the gate and found a quiet spot in the field. I closed my eyes, enjoying the evening sunlight. What bliss ! Thoughts of the night before flooded my mind and soon a different engine was throbbing between my legs as I relived those nocturnal events. This time I did it as I liked best, with the edge of the index finger of my left hand gently stroking with pre-cum the underside of my cockhead. Indeed did I "spill my seed" (plentifully) "on the ground" as it says in the Bible. Then back on the bike for the last fifty miles and I was home for a late supper with my parents, where you can be sure I told them all about my trip to London and my brief visit to see Steve. Well, not quite all ! I never saw him again. Each of us discovered girls and both of us are happily married but the memories remain - with me, anyway. I wonder what he would think if he could read this and what might happen, more than thirty years later, if we could meet now in circumstances that would allow us to relive the past. Who knows what activity might ten take place !