The Importance of the Fifty-pence Piece

I’m not gay.  Not one little bit but… “This is just so gay,” said my friend, Andy.  Charlie, Raj and I did rather have to agree with him.  And it got worse.  Yet, it was not really gay.  But first things first.

My friends and I are keen hikers.  Once or twice a year we lug tents across the countryside for a long weekend or even a whole week.   This particular trip was testing us a bit.  It’d been a filthy day.  We’d got wet, fallen over and got just so muddy it looked like we’d been playing rugby. 

The camp site when we arrived was nice enough and, importantly, it had showers.   Glorious hot water – hurrah! But then as the rest of us stood around putting the finishing touches to our two tents, Andy made an unexpected re-appearance from the ablution block.

“You need a fifty-pence coin for the showers.”

He hadn’t got even the one coin and between us we only found two.  “Well, I’m all right,” I said, and so was Raj.  But that was hardly fair.  So what to do?  The site deserted apart from a single seemingly unoccupied tent, and the owner of the site just driven away in his Land Rover.   The solution – four in a shower together.  Four muddy men getting undressed in a luckily rather large shower cubicle.  It was a good shower too, that was clear.  It would have helped if the electric light over the cubicle had worked but that was all that could be faulted – and that need for fifty pence pieces. 

It was a bit gloomy without an electric light.  But the heating worked.  It was not cold in the ablution block, for four now naked and sweaty men standing together and ready for the hot water, men a little surprised at the turn of events and their proximity.  Four men perhaps making surreptitious glances to check out the other men’s size – penis size – but attempting to be nonchalantand seemingly ignoring the nudity and genitalia.  After all, it meant that so desired hot water.

The first fifty pence piece inserted, and the shower started.  Glorious hot water cascading down but a shower meant for one or possibly two, not four.  Time wasted whilst we all made ‘after you’ type polite comments, but soon the realisation one by one in the shower was just so stupid.  ‘Come on, everyone under’ soon suggested.  But to be under the water we had to be close – not facing close, most certainly not, but hip to hip or, as we ended up, bottom to bottom with the lovely hot water running down our bodies, just so good to stand there getting warm – not that the ablution block wasn’t well heated – as the water cascaded onto our heads, soaking our hair and running down our bodies.

We hadn’t even reached for soap or shampoo when with a click the water stopped.   A collective cry of ‘no!’   There was only one coin left.  What were we to do? We were wet, there was plenty of water on our bodies to soap up before using up the last of the hot water.  Two bars of soap between us and four bottles of miniature shampoo, no doubt acquired from hotel rooms.  Four men soaping up and passing around the bars of soap.   Four naked men lathered up together looking rather like the changing room scene from a movie.

“This is just so gay,” remarked Andy.  And it was. Not a woman in sight but four naked men all covered in slippery suds, penises poking out from frothed up pubic hair, Andy, Charlie and Raj’s knobs fully exposed where they had pulled back their foreskins as part of their normal ablutions, my own right hand just in the act of doing the same and all of them looking.

Laughter, self-conscious laughter.

“It is a bit,” remarked Charlie in reply, “shall I soap your back, Andy, or… shall I do your bum whilst I’m at it!”  More laughter.

“No thanks!   Are we ready for the water?”

Whilst it might have helped the soap to do its work had we all rubbed our slippery bodies together and built up even more lather, that was not in anyone’s mind, I’m sure.  Amused at what we were doing but not at all turned on by it all.  It might well have been different had our party been ‘mixed,’ though I suspect the girls would not have been at all interested in anything like that.  Justwanting to get clean and their hair properly shampooed, not ‘fool around’ with men keen to fondle soapy breasts and have their rapidly expanding cocks clasped by soapy, slippery feminine hands.

Shampoo and soap washed from male bodies by the second fifty pence worth of water.   Four men bottom to bottom, rubbing the soap from themselves.  Maybe soft penises did touch neighbours as we twisted and turned but no one said anything like ‘careful,’ or ‘do you mind,’ we were all intent on getting soap free before the next ‘click.’ It was after the shower and whilst we were rather less close together and towelling, that Andy noticed the crack in the boarding in the dressing area, a crack suddenly lit with light coming through; a crack between the next shower cubicle and ours, only that cubicle was in the woman’s section of the ablution block.  He’s an inquisitive bloke with not a lot of self-conscious concern at what he says or does.   He peered through.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “fuck!”  And stepped back, motioning with that raised finger to the lips for us to be quiet.

“What?” whispered Raj.

And Andy motioned us towards the long sliver of light.  Four heads together, one above the other, eyes pressed to the crack.  Four pairs of lips simultaneously breaking into grins.   What we saw, which someone looking the other way through the crack in the boarded partition would have seen, was not four naked men but two almost naked girls.  Two girl hikers almost down to bra and panties.  Two girl hikers getting ready for a shower which meant bras and panties would come off.   Two very pretty girls, one just taking off her workmanlike shirt and revealing a bra supported a chest big enough for two, err, men to hold.  And off the bra came,unclipped at the back and lowered, revealing a very nice pair of teats – certainly sufficient for two of us to suck – atop those generous boobs!

We were as if glued to the boarding and our spy crack.  The other and darker haired girl removed her bra to reveal perfectly acceptable tits with darker pigmentation to the centres.  Four tits for four men.   I was certainly immediately imagining soapingthem in our shower.  That would have been even more of a squash, but a very pleasant one.  Happy to lend them our soap if they allowed us access to the pile of fifty pence coins I could see –  next to a bottle of shower gel.  They did not, actually, need our help – with soap, soaping or anything else, as we were to find out.

Whether naturally fair and dark we were not able to determine because as panties were pulled down in unison we saw completelydenuded pubes, not a tuft of hair hiding their little girl slits in the middle of their denuded mounds.  They were not little girls, not at all, we were not gawping at a pair of fourteen-year-olds.  Quite clearly not.  Twenty, twenty-two, or a bit more perhaps.  Even so, our wives would not have approved of our voyeuring.  Not one bit.  Our view on the matter completely different.  We did not move!  Our eyes peering through the long crack and very much enjoying what we saw.

Turning, and giving us a pleasing rear view, eight eyes focused on bottom cheeks and cracks, the dark one inserted a coin – in themachine – and the water began to spray.  Probably we had just clumped onto the shower tray, the girls were a little bit daintier, first putting thighs forward into the stream to test the temperature.  Soft, shapely thighs pushed forward.  Very nice. And then they were in, clearly luxuriating in the water, just as we had done.  I am sure we were all awaiting the soaping, seeing their hands on their lovely wet bodies.  What we hadn’t expected, I am sure, perhaps not even hoped, was that they would soap each other.

“Fuck,” whispered Andy again as he watched one of the, now water warmed, girls reach for the shower gel and begin smoothing it over her friend.  We watched the soaping continue as the water clicked off.  I am sure we all agreed that watching them rubbing shower gel over each other’s breasts was one of the best parts and the girls were right to assume all four breasts needed very, very careful soaping.  We watched as two more fifty pence pieces were inserted.  We watched fingers sliding into bottom cracks, we watched hands between the girls’ thighs, and we very much enjoyed the hair washing when in turn each girl knelt and whilst her hair was washed very clearly, and this even more surprised us, pushed her face into the other girl’s pubis.  Did their tongues perhaps come out of mouths and slide up and down feminine slits – I certainly thought so.  Did our tongues come out between ourlips as we perhaps imagined doing the same?  I know mine did.

We watched it all through to the drying and dressing and then the girls were gone.  Slowly we rose, backs straightening, particularly Raj at the bottom who had to bend most.  He rubbed his backbone.  Unsurprisingly, I was not the only one erect.   It happens to men, it had happened to us.  I suspect I was not the only one to have been stroking my cock, either.  I think there had been four naked wanking men in that cubicle – but eyes had not left peepholes to see.  There were now four, very clean, but completely naked and, most certainly, utterly erect men there.  If we had been nervous about looking at each other’s cocks before, not wanting to be thought it any way gay, that was not how it was now.  As we stood we found ourselves in a circle with our erections so upright, so swollen, so peeled.  Our cocks before us ll like the spokes of a wheel.  Knobs on top of curving stalks, knobs with shiny taut membranes, urethral openings at their ends in various stages of wetness, Raj even with pre-cum flowing down his fraenum.  Whereas before we had hardly looked we just stared at each other’s equipment.

“This…” said Andy pausing for clear dramatic effect, “is just so gay!”

Amused but also nervous laughter.

“But not as gay as those girls,” added Charlie.

“No chance there – for us,” Raj said, “not one bit.  They’re probably back at their tent and nicely intertwined.  Rather clearly, ifsurprisingly, they have no need for these, um,” his gesture expansive around our four erections, “not unimpressive cocks.  A pity.”

Raj’s understatement had our full agreement.  The girls were missing out.  Two pairs of cocks – two cocks each.  They could have been so lucky after their shower!

“I need a wank,” said Andy in his usual blunt way.

“Another one, Andy!” Raj had clearly known what Andy was doing.  Had Raj been stroking too?

“I need to cum.”

Yeah, well, that was blunt enough.   I suspected we all did – I knew I did.

“We could split up, two to a tent each, one in a WC cubicle and one here.  Bags I here!”

“I’m not wanking on the bog, Charlie,” Andy replied.  “Come on, let’s do the gay thing, let’s all wank here together.  Fuck, I mean, I’ve seen all your cocks and Raj is virtually cumming anyway!”   We all looked and his drip of pre-cum was actually hanging from his cock.  He began to laugh and the pre-cum drip swung on its thread.

“I cum a bit harder than that, Andy!” he said.

“I’m sure you do!”

But were we all about to see that?  Four men really sexually charged up.  All on a real high.  Seeing the girls had been such a turn on.  The illicit excitement of the voyeur.   Our cocks so up and almost bursting with need.  The need to empty our hanging balls.

“Fuck, let’s just do it. You all game.  I’m not doing it alone,” Andy paused and then added, “probably!”

Were we just going to do ‘it’ standing in a circle facing each other?  Perhaps had we still a fifty pence piece we might have got back in under the hot water and perhaps wanked and cum with the water washing away the cum as fast as it was produced by thefour penises, the ejaculations almost invisible. But we had no coin, splattering the floor was a bit… well, not too nice for the next person who walked in bare foot; splattering the shower tray somewhat similar without the shower to wash all away; had we beenas gay as we most certainly looked all crammed together in the shower cubicle we could have sucked each other’s cock and swallowed the inevitable outcome of a good wank – four good wanks; and, of course, had the girls joined us…

“The wash basin,” said Andy, seemingly our self-appointed wank leader. Ah! A, perhaps, suitable receptacle. A wash hand basin in the shower cubicle, there for shaving and the brushing of teeth.   A wide receptacle, sparkling white porcelain with gleaming chrome taps and plug hole.  It was a very well-maintained campsite.  And importantly with the hot water not governed by the meter with the slot for fifty-pence pieces.

“Who’s going first?”

“Bags not me,” Charlie quick off the mark again. Probably best not to be first or last.

“If we’re going to, and I assume we are, let’s just do it whilst the mood is – we should’ve done that whilst spying.  You don’t think another woman might take a shower?”  Raj looked hopefully towards the partition.

There was silence from next door in the ladies’ section, and the campsite was not exactly full.  We would have a long wait.

“Fuck,” said Andy again, let’s just do it – together.  We turned and moved to the white wash-hand basin.  Moved with our erectionspointing.  Four hard cocks loomed over the edge, four pairs of testes felt the pleasing coolness of the porcelain rim.  A bit gay – it was actually worse than it sounds.  The mirror on the wall above the washbasin, the mirror that had no doubt reflected countless naked men shaving, reflected back at us.   Four naked men with cocks hard, upright and peeled, faced four other men, remarkably similar looking men, across back-to-back wash hand basins.  Eight hands reached and fingers and thumbs encircled eight hard penises; four taut fraena faced four other taut fraena; sixteen balls waited to unload; it was going to be semen mayhem!

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” exclaimed Raj.

“You’re not,” I said. None of us were, no one had yet started to wank.  No one wanted to be first.  I think no one wanted to cum first either, noone wanted to do that rather personal thing before the others did.

Andy took the lead, “all together now.  Nobody wait for anyone else.  Just do it, wank and cum – and think of the girls.  I wonder what they’re doing now in their tent.”

Well, no one was going to be thinking about wanking together with his mates.  We would all be wanking and cumming with eyes tight shut and the recollection of soapy naked girls in our minds’ eyes or, most likely, imagining just what they were doing in theirtent.  Wouldn’t we?

“Start now,” said Andy. And we all did.

I was certainly thinking of the girls, certainly wondering if they were now sixty-nine in their tent, thinking of them as I had seen them – naked.  But equally I could not stop staring at my reflection and that of my friends.  A row of four wankers, each of us with a respectably sized but undoubtedly different cock, each being stroked and foreskins tugged over knobs and back again.

“Oh, ah, oh dear,” mumbled Charlie.  A mistake on his part.  He might have said ‘bags not me’ but once he was going over the edge there was no stopping it and I watched – we all watched I think – as it happened.  White cum pouring out of the end of his knob down into the wash basin.  I had watched myself cum often enough.  I had not seen another man cum.  Even before Charlie finished Raj was cumming, dollops of his stuff down into the basin, globular streaks of creamy coloured cum against the brilliant white of the porcelain.  Raj had performed as he said he would; he had cum a lot harder than the dripping of his pre-cum.

I came next, even before Raj had stopped dripping. I knew I had wanked past the point of stopping.  Think of the girls, think of the girls, I thought as I stared at the so fascinating reflection of us all, coupled with the ejaculating cocks next to me.  Out it came – and I did not shut my eyes – just at the exact same time the man opposite me, my mirror image, came.  And then Andy came – and, for him, it was ‘splat’ against the mirror.  A double splat – it came from the mirror towards us as well.

“Fuck!”  We all, except Andy this time, said in unison. “Fuck, Andy!” again as a second and harder splat came against the mirror.  He certainly came hard.  A real shooter.  I was still cumming, still shaking with pleasure as I stared almost in disbelief at the cum-fest.

We stood there, a little shocked at what we had all done.  No one thinking to make the first move.  We had, after all, a bit ofclearing up to do.  There were streaks of cum within the basin going this way and that, there was cum on the mirror, there was cum on the taps!   There was a lot of cum.  Four penises seemed to have produced a lot of cum!  More than I might have expected.

It was a matter of whooshing it away down the plughole, whooshing the water around, up and around the taps and up onto the mirror.  Somebody had to do it.  I did it.  We even washed our cocks in the basin; filling it with warm water and then we dunked them all together and washed them all, washed them free of cum.  I didn’t do that for them.  We all did our own!

our somewhat quiet men went back to their tents.  That had all been a bit of a surprise to us.  The girls’ tent, we notice, was allzipped up.  We wondered.