Eddie is the newest member of their friend group, and he's about to show Carl that he has a special asset which might make him de-facto leader of the gang!
Every summer the lake on the edge of town would become the focal point, seemingly for everyone. While me and my group of mates would head out there on bike rides and spend an afternoon trying to avoid the aggressive geese and lounging around on the grass with girls trying to act cool, my older brother and his friends would be out there at night, mostly getting drunk or hooking up with girlfriends.
Being 18 I was potentially on the cusp of transitioning from that weekend-bike-ride age to the drinking-illicit-beers-with-friends stage. I was probably a late bloomer in that regard. A few of my friends had already been in trouble for smoking, drinking and various other acts none of our parents would ever approve of.
I suppose I was what you might call a "good boy" for most of my teen years, I managed to stay out of the kinds of trouble my friends would get into. I got shit for it with my mates, of course. I was probably considered "boring". After leaving school my time was spent working at dad's business, playing footie on the local team and saving money for my dream trip to New Zealand when I turned 21. All my friends were obsessed with pussy, money, status, they all seemed to be in a rush to get older, only without any responsibilities.
I was sticking to my plan and staying on the straight-and-narrow, or at least I mostly was.
One particular Saturday afternoon there was a group of us who'd made our way out to our usual spot by the water; a little green hill perfectly positioned between the toilets and the pub, where we could go and get cans of drinks or crisps if anyone had the money.
This was where we'd mostly just hang around in the sun for a few hours, talking about girls if there weren't any girlfriends with us, occasionally racing each other around the water, maybe talking about the various jobs we had. That was what grown men did, right? Complain about work and chicks?
The five of our usual gang had been joined by another. His name was Eddie and although I'd only briefly met him a couple of times since his family moved into the area I could tell he was likely to be much more of a troublemaker than any of my other friends.
He just had that attitude, the kind of "don't give a fuck" arrogance of an 18 year old who'd already been in trouble with the cops a few times. He was about 5'9", wide round shoulders, green eyes below a thick brow. Slim waist and strong legs. He had one of those closely trimmed buzz cut hairstyles, like a number 3 all over, light brown, a gold stud in one ear, all of which probably made him look a couple of years older than he was. A thin chain hung low around his neck with a little gold cross on it even though there was no other sign of him being religious at all.
In comparison to the rest of us he really stood out. I was athletic, thanks to years of football, but he was properly muscled. The rest of the guys were what you might call gangly, slimmer and far less athletic. Those bike rides were probably the most activity they did back then, they all spent more time in a gaming chair than on their feet.
Eddie just looked like one of those guys who in ten years would be holding back an angry pit-bull on a strong rope, a tattoo on his thick neck, while wearing Adidas tracksuit bottoms with a vest.
On his first visit to the lake with us, however, he was wearing nothing but red basketball shorts and trainers. And when I say nothing but that, I mean absolutely nothing else.
That was pretty much evident within the first few minutes of him pulling up on his old bike and laying it down beside the five we'd already abandoned at the top of the hill.
I watched him walk down the slight slope toward us with a "Hey bitches, what the fuck's going on?" and the most obvious thing about him, apart from his well-defined muscular build and the arrogant swagger he naturally seemed to have, was the heavy shape swinging in the front of those loose red shorts.
Maybe it's what you'd call big dick energy today?
I knew everyone else saw it. There was no way any of the guys could have missed it. I didn't know if he was half hard or whether he just had a really big cock, but there was no chance anyone watching him walking could have ignored the way the baggy material lurched from left to right and back again with the weight and momentum of his manhood inside.
No one said anything about it, of course, but there was a lot of discreet chuckling and mocking wide-eyed stares from one friend to another while the new arrival wasn't looking their way. Even though we didn't know much about Eddie everyone seemed to agree that he wasn't the kind of lad you wanted to get angry, so it wasn't one of those situations when anyone was gonna speak up about it or take the piss out of him.
Then again, what would anyone say that could embarrass him? Having the biggest cock in the gang would have elevated his status instantly. We were all either 18 or 19, that kind of revelation would have immediately placed him at the top of the hierarchy we weren't even conscious of.
He sat down and immediately launched into a tirade about his girlfriend and I guessed that he'd probably been semi-hard, he was probably thinking about her on the ride over and that was what made his dick swell. Then again, at that age even riding a bike over a couple of small pebbles could have been enough to make a cock bulge.
A little time passed and I started to think maybe it was just the way the material of his shorts moved, the way his dick tented them and perhaps it was just a trick of the light or something.
That notion was dispelled when James lost his lighter. After a couple of minutes of patting the grass around him with his ciggy hanging from between his lips he was ready to surrender and seek out another smoker on the path at the top of the hill, then Eddie retrieved his own from his pocket and leaned over.
I was in an advantageous position to Eddie's left, a little further down the slope and looking up while chatting with Andrew to my right, only about five feet away from the display that would end all speculation.
As Eddie moved and his thick left leg reached out to balance him the shape of that impressive member flopped down out of the right leg hole of his baggy shorts, his bent right knee encouraging the gap of his shorts to turn into a bright cave housing a monster.
James was still looking for his lighter, so Eddie was stuck in this position, reaching out and up to his friend offering his clipper. It must have been maybe ten seconds while James was distracted and Eddie was leaning like that, sparking the lighter in his hand, before the gesture became too much to maintain and the muscled lad announce "Fucking take this ya twat!"
It was enough time for me to study the long and thick pink cock laying heavily just below his muscular thigh, kind of cradled in the cotton of his shorts. The foreskin-covered tip peeked out over the edge of the material, an elephant's trunk of additional flesh drooping down. The outline of his helmet under the thin skin of his prepuce was prominent while the very end bunched into a slender and baggy spout of hood a couple of centimeters long.
I've similarly heard long and drooping foreskins like that referred to as a "wizards sleeve", and it really is quite accurate with regard to him.
The way the light came through the red material made the long and pliable shaft of his hefty penis glow, smooth and supple. The end of it was exposed to the light to show just how pale it was in comparison to his tanned thigh.
Finally James gratefully took the lighter and sparked up, handing the clipper back to Eddie and allowing the unaware exhibitionist to right himself. He folded his hairy shins and retrieved a cigarette of his own, an inch more of his penis still exposed from the hem of his leg hole.
He was like this for maybe another five minutes, during which time Andrew had clearly noticed the display for himself. Our own conversation had faded and I felt my cheeks redden when I realized that maybe he'd seen me staring and that was why he was now furtively looking at it then diverting his eyes before returning to it again.
Andrew snapped out of his repeated awkward glances and looked back at me with a comical smirk while we silently shared our surprise between us. Perhaps we were both trying to disguise our fascination, I know we both kept looking. While conversations continued among the other guys and Eddie was seemingly unaware that his long penis was partially exposed I monitored Andrew almost as much as I gazed upon the masculine and meaty display.
Andrew's eyes kept drifting there, just like mine, seemingly unable to look away for more than a few seconds at a time.
Then Eddie noticed his wardrobe malfunction. I say noticed but it was more like a subconscious movement and he didn't even look down. I can imagine maybe the grass tickled the pale pink wrinkled flesh of his hanging foreskin spout and his hand just automatically tugged on the material to cover the brawny mass. He adjusted his position and his legs reached out ahead of him while he leaned back on his hands, a cloud of smoke dancing around his face, his eyes squinting in the sun.
While he'd successfully hidden every inch of penis from public view the long baton of manhood was now sandwiched between his inner right thigh and the taut material, displaying his length and thickness for me and Andrew to once again be sporadically fixated by. A smaller cave was created by the rounded shape of his helmet just a few millimeters away from being revealed again.
We tried to continue conversation, Eddie turned his attention to us a few times and we engaged, trying not to look down while he was facing us.
I think we just tried to push it out of our minds, but of course I couldn't. I was fascinated. Of all the cocks I'd seen none had grasped my attention the way his had, but I suppose that's quite normal for an 18 year old. It's not the kind of thing a boy would admit to, but seeing a member like that is going to illicit some degree of curiosity or awe.
I'd already estimated that his soft cock had to be around six inches long. It was fat, too. Mine was around six and a half when I was fully hard and stroking it, but knowing how mine hung when I was flaccid I started to imagine how big his might be when he was stiff and wanking it.
Back then the idea of being a grower or a shower wasn't in my lexicon, so I guess I just assumed that if my four inch floppy grew to a six and a half, his six inch soft one probably swelled to between eight and nine.
I was a somewhat experienced masturbator by this point. I don't mean I knew any tricks or methods, I was simply a regular practitioner of the sport. My education in self-pleasure would grow exponentially over the following few years, but at the time I was routinely pounding the pud, bashing the bishop, choking the chicken and draining the snake, at least two or three times a day. I suppose most of my friends were the same, even though being called a wanker was probably the most common insult. And perhaps that was so because we all secretly knew how often everyone engaged in their wankerism.
Knowing the fun I could have with my own rigid inches I admit I spent quite a lot of that time sitting there wondering how he handled his own.
We stayed there for perhaps another hour, and Eddie revealed himself again another three times. Whenever he adjusted his position at least the skin of his hood would be revealed from the opening, usually briefly before he maneuvered his shorts again. When it came time to move on, with talk of maybe going to the cinema or riding back to Mitch's house to play on his Xbox, I was waiting for Eddie to stand.
Maybe my mind has embellished a little since, but I recall him almost shuffling forward on his arse to lift himself from the sloping ground, and as he did the material of his shorts rode all the way back to allow several inches of his impressive meaty member to slink out of the opening and touch the grass below.
He stood quickly but the sight of his cable-like schlong swinging pendulous from his shorts is etched on my mind. If it's an invented memory I'm impressed that my subconscious was able to manufacture it, but knowing how things developed shortly after this sequence of unbeknownst exhibitionism I'm almost certain my recollection is accurate.
It would be less than thirty minutes before Eddie would show me how proud he was of his favourite asset.
I hope you enjoyed part one. Leave a comment if you want more. And if you love stories of male curiosity, cruising, masturbation and more I hope you'll check out my official publications at BradSmithson.co.uk
You must be logged in to post wall comments or like a story. Please login or signup (free).