Harry 3

After that first naked wank together, it became something we rather did.  Sometimes I was alone but Harry did seem to know when I was there in his ‘den.’  Of course, sometimes I would be at his house gardening and Harry would appear with a couple of mugs of tea and suggest we sat down for a rest – invariably at the back of the shed.  The rule was always nudity in there.  Clothes to be hung up and cocks to hang out.

You will not be surprised to learn Harry eventually offered a helping hand.  I remember it as if it was yesterday.  It was shortly after my eighteenth birthday.  As usual I was sitting on the arm of the armchair, rather straddling it, with Harry sitting in the chair.  Often we placed the magazine on the arm before me or on the table, but this particular time I had picked it up and was turning the pages.   I was saying how much I liked the girl disporting herself in colour on the pages – and she certainly was in colour!   No black girls or boys in my school back in those days, so the photographs were certainly exotic to me.  Wonderful dark shiny skin,with such a contrast to her frilly lingerie – which she took off in subsequent pages.  Delectably dark skin and pristine white lingerie.  What a contrast!  I had my hands full, not of her ample breasts, alas, but the magazine.

“Shall I?”  Harry asked and reached under my right arm and his left hand closed around my cock, his right hand already aroundhis.  I had not at that point experienced someone else holding and stroking my cock before.  It was marvellous!  I was shaking, I think, as I tried to talk on about the black girl.

“Imagine it’s her hand,” he said.

And I could.  But it was Harry’s hand, his fingers sliding my foreskin up and down, his little finger coming down to stroke myscrotum.  It was not long before I had to ask him to stop.  Not, as I reassured him, because I did not like it but because I was about to make a mess.  I was on the edge, twitching, for a moment I thought it would go off by itself!

I remember Harry leaning back in his armchair smiling at my near miss ‘cum explosion,’ legs rather spread and his erection sticking up pole like, all wrinkles and hardness, his foreskin back and the purple band at the edge of his wedge of a knob.  It was just standing on its own, balls hanging down between his thighs, curving up from his grey and white curls.  What a cock!  Even these days I remain impressed by the memory.

I think I said, repeating what I’d said before, something about how big his cock was.  A compliment to a man – always.   I think I asked how long it was and got some reply like he had not measured it since a lad and did not know.  Would I like to measure it?  Was the ruler put to hand on purpose?  I don’t know, but it meant I had to handle both ruler and Harry’s cock.  Of course Iwanted to.  I liked the girlie pictures but I did want to touch and feel that big cock.  So much bigger than my own.  Was I nervous, perhaps – but my erection had certainly not waned.

I put the ruler against his erect penis, pushed it down into the curls above his pubic bone and then, reaching around with my fingers, pulled it towards the ruler, pulling in the bend and making it straight so the top of his knob, his opening, moved up theruler a little further.  Seven and a quarter inches.  Pretty impressive but then Harry suggested I stroked it a little, as he thought he had lost a little of its turgidity.  My free fingers moved upon his ridge and I watched his knob move – like a thermometer or an indicator on an instrument - up the markings upon the ruler, lengthening eighth by eighth to reach not quite eight inches but only an eighth away!

And there was mine, short by comparison.  I used the ruler on myself I found I was five and a quarter inches.  I was pleased – I had thought just five!  That was what I had measured before.  It seemed, as Harry had said, I would indeed grow – was growing.  Wouldn’t I have loved to have one like Harry’s.  Still would!

I’d touched Harry’s cock – just – but not really felt its size.  Harry had picked up the magazine, very deliberately I am sure, and turned the page.  Had made it that his hands were full of the magazine.  And there was his cock, still hard and swollen; and him with his hands full of the magazine.  I asked if I might and, you will not be surprised to hear, Harry readily agreed.

So much longer and thicker than my own.  I reached, not to take a measurement but to wank it.  It was quite something to hold in my hand as we resumed our perusal of the magazine.   Hold and then stroke, just as I did with my own, only it was so much larger.  Yes, as warm and as solid but so different to feel in my hand.

We must have looked at magazines for another half an hour, maybe more.  Harry held the magazine and I turned the pages.  It left a hand free apiece, but it was not our own cocks we stroked.  I reached down from my position, sitting up on the arm of his armchair, and he reached up to me.  I think it was me who got up to get the box of tissues when Harry said it was perhaps really time for him to go up to the house.

Again, I remember the photograph.  A blond girl with hair halfway down her back photographed in woodland.  Harry said something about her being a nice girlfriend for me though, being perhaps three or five years older than me, that was a bit unlikely.  He rather liked a photograph of her bending over a fallen tree, her round bottom so prominent and inviting.  At least that was how it seemed to me.  I wonder now if some stray golden curls had peeked out and been air-brushed away.  Harry suggested how enjoyable it would be to mount her from the rear.  Would she mind if an old man took his pleasure after I had filled her; would she mind if an old erection slipped into her after me; it would not do any harm and give an old man great pleasure.  I expect I said something about how delighted she would be to feel his much bigger cock, all craggy and rubbing opening her.

And what would that be like?  Me now the old man and with the two young people in the woods, young woman and lad like me, all naked and aroused in the sunshine.  But there was no girl back then.  Several more years before my first.  Just Harry and me there in his ‘den.’  And what a thing it was for me to set not myself but another off.  Rubbing Harry’s skin up and down his large cock, even releasing the magazine and cupping his balls as I made the old boy ejaculate onto the tissues I’d strategically placed.  Milking it out as he gasped in pleasure, me watching him cum.

And then it was my turn, Harry telling me to close my eyes and imagine that girl either wanking me or me thrusting into her from behind and releasing.  There was something of that; certainly very good to be doing nothing with my hands and it all being done for me.  Yes, just letting go.  Assisted masturbation.