Another Masturbation Fantasy By Jackinnm@yahoo.com
I find masturbation more enjoyable when I can lie back in my recliner, close my eyes and fantasize about a sexual situation, based on an actual or imaginary event. My imagination develops the plot while I slowly and lovingly stroke my cock, bringing it gradually to the brink. One afternoon I stripped naked, grabbed some paper towels, and lay back to enjoy another fantasy about mutual jacking. In this one, I was in the hospital for prostate surgery. In real life, I have a slightly swollen prostate as do many 60 year old men, but do not need surgery. In my fantasy, a male nurse came in to shave my pubic region. He was a lot younger than I, but what the hell, it's my fantasy: The other bed in my semi-private room was empty, and a man dressed in green scrubs and wearing an "RN" pin entered. He looked to be about 30 and had black hair and eyes, and a warm smile. "Hello, I'm Nurse Luis Montoya, but you can call me `Lou.' I'm the charge nurse, although tonight you're the only patient on my ward. Summers are slow here, as you might have noticed. Right now I have to prepare you for tomorrow's surgery, but I'll get you a sleeping pill later, if you need one." He wheeled in a cart with shaving gear and towels, and came around to the left side of the bed. "Lift yourself please," he said as he peeled the sheet from my body, exposing my nakedness. I was wearing nothing, not even a hospital gown. He slipped a plastic sheet under my lower trunk and covered this with a large towel. "There, now we won't wet your sheets when I shave you," he said. He took a hot wet towel from a container and draped it over my naked cock and balls. We'll leave this on you for a minute, then I'll begin shaving you." Lou began stirring a shaving brush in a cup, generating the lather he'd use on my pubic hair. He removed the wet towel, which had cooled by now, and applied a generous coating of warm lather to my balls, the skin around them, and the base of my shaft. Picking up a plastic disposable razor, he began shaving my balls. "Don't worry, I haven't nicked anyone yet," he said encouragingly as he began removing my pubic hair. He worked all around my balls next, pulling them up gently to reach the skin under them. He wiped the remaining lather with a dry towel as he finished each section. "We'll use another hot wet towel for the final clean-up," he said as he lifted my prick by the foreskin to work around the base of the shaft. The long nippled hood stretched between his fingers, and the outline of my big head showed through the thick fleshy sleeve. "You have a nice long foreskin," he commented as he continued to wield the razor. He was rolling the nipple between his fingers and I felt my prick begin swelling in response to the stimulation. I suspected his handling my prick in this way was not inadvertent. "I bet your foreskin is nice too. How long is it?" I replied, keeping up my end of the conversation and wondering where it would lead. I knew most Latinos are uncut. "I don't have one," he said. "I was born in L. A. where they snipped all newborn boys at the time. My older brother still has his foreskin because he was born in Mexico, but mine was clipped when I was three days old." So much for my preconceived notion. He was one of the cut ones. "That's why I find your foreskin so interesting. It's beautiful." "Okay, but I bet your skinned prick is nice, isn't it?" I queried. I decided to go a step further and pulled the drawstring on his scrub pants, which immediately dropped, exposing a swollen half-hard shaft, with a big fleshy head dangling from its end. Behind his cock was a large hairy ball bag, hanging low. I lifted his cock and laid it on the mattress between us to study it. I watched his prick continue to swell, and saw that it was slightly longer than my six inches, and thicker. The cock-head was magnificent, however, a big, meaty bell-shaped head with a round end and thick flange that went down both sides of the shaft giving the effect of a bell. I grasped it again, feeling its warmth in my palm and encircling fingers. "Your cock is nice and warm," I said. "Feels like it's hard and ready to go." "That's because it's often ready to go, but this time it's because your cock turns me on." "I'd say yours is nice too," I added, as I heard him draw in his breath. Lou was obviously horny from handling my cock, and I knew he would be ready for an orgasm soon. The hole at the end of his now fully swollen glans was a perfect circle, looking as if it had been drilled, and a drop of clear fluid filled it. I began spreading the slippery drop around the opening in small circles, but Lou withdrew a clear plastic one-shot tube from his shirt pocket, tearing it open as he handed it to me. "Here, use this. It's non-drying glycerin lube, and I was going to use it to jerk off right after finishing with you." I poured the slippery clear goo into my palm and wrapped my fingers around his head and shaft. I knew that glycerin was a great lubricant to use, because it gave a warm feeling on the cock. I massaged his cock with the lubricant, holding it under-hand with my thumb towards the base, and my fingers circling it with gentle pressure. "I read in your chart that you have trouble urinating. Does your prostate give you any problems cumming?" he asked. "No, not at all," I replied. "I still cum hot and hard, maybe even harder than I did when I was younger. It certainly feels more intense now." As I spoke, I slowly stroked back and forth over his prick's sensitive areas, from the brown circumcision scar an inch behind the head right to the end of his glans, my fingers bumping up and over his thick rim and running down-hill to the end. Then I ran one finger up the triangular groove under the head, feeling for his hot spot. Lou was breathing harder now, and I knew he really needed the stimulation. He had just finished shaving around the base of my cock, and now put another hot wet towel over my hard cock and sagging balls. His fingers worked the towel around the contours of my cock and balls, washing every crease and rinsing away the soap. Removing the towel, he picked up my cock and asked: "Mind if I skin it back? I'd like to inspect underneath." I nodded, saying; "I'd love to have you inspect it," and Lou's fingers began stripping the long hood back from the head. My big purple tip came into view, and Lou dipped his head to sniff it and declare: "I just love that man-smell from your cock-head. Foreskin odor is different from ball-sweat, and really turns me on, because my prick doesn't smell like that." He continued to retract my foreskin until the ridge was exposed and added: "Hey, a nice big helmet, nice hole at the end, looks like a teardrop. I really like your cock-head. Let's see how far the skin goes back. I just love to stretch foreskin, especially a long thick one like yours." He rolled the foreskin back until it snapped into the deep groove behind the head, stretched it farther back, and ran a finger around the high ridge. He also ran it into the deep groove behind it, the sharp sensation making my cock jump. That felt really nice, and my cock throbbed in response, drops of lubricant oozing from its tip. "Your cock really appreciates the attention doesn't it? Now I want to scrub it so that it's really clean for tomorrow morning." I had just washed my prick carefully during the shower I'd taken before coming to the hospital that afternoon, but felt that Lou had something else in mind besides hygiene. I was right, because he picked up the brush and applied hot lather to my exposed tip. The feel of the soft lubricated bristle ends scraping the nerves in my tender tip made me jump, and I gasped. A tickling feeling deep inside told me that I was seeping more lube. Normally, I don't produce much lubricant, but this treatment was making me almost gush. The thick liquid mixed with the lather, making my cock-tip even more slick. "That scrubbing feels nice, doesn't it? I knew you'd like that. Now we'll really get it clean for you. This brush has pure boar bristles, not nylon. Nylon is sharp, and can cut the delicate tissue, while boar bristles are soft and rounded at the end, just right for using on your glans." He continued to run the brush around my hard, swollen tip, filling it with erotic sensations, while I kept stroking his prick. I knew that Lou needed to cum urgently, which is why I didn't try to make it last or to soften his sensations. My left hand cupped his tightening scrotum while I continued stroking his hot hard prick with my right. I ran my fingers around his ridge and into his groove, twisting my fist around the big head, knowing that this would bring on orgasm soon. Meanwhile, the bristles were sending messages of delight into my helmet. "You cum first, okay?" I suggested. He nodded. Like me, he was an experienced jack-off afficionado and knew that it's hard to concentrate on two things at once when one of them is an intense orgasm. I preferred to give my undivided attention to bringing my partner off without the distraction of a hot orgasm dulling my consciousness. "I really enjoy jacking off," he said as he continued to work on my swollen prick. We were on the same wavelength, because jacking is my fun too, and my opinion is that on a scale of one to ten, a poor hand job rates about a seven while a good fuck is about two. "I enjoy jacking another guy's cock, and feeling his hands on mine," I added. "It means sharing, caring, and becoming really intimate." Jacking another man to orgasm added another dimension to sex for me, because I enjoyed being able to bring a man to orgasm by stroking his cock, giving him the most intense sensations he'd experience. "Making a guy cream while he's doing me is really important to me," Lou said, and I knew we were of one mind. "It's sharing one of life's best experiences, and I like to look at his face while I'm stroking him, especially when he's cumming," he added, as he gave my retracted foreskin an extra tug to tense my gee-string and make my helmet dip towards my balls. Are you a shooter or a dribbler?" he asked. I replied that I dribbled when I came, and he told me that he was a shooter, as he placed a large folded towel on the mattress next to me, under his prick. I continued to stroke him, letting his copious cock-honey drip onto the towel under him. "I know your uncut tip's sensitive, but does it get super-sensitive when you cum?" he asked. "Sometimes it does, but not as much as it used to when I was younger," I replied. "My tip often gets too sensitive to touch when I come," he replied. "If I tell you, stop stroking me, okay?" "Don't worry, I promise I'll be careful," I replied, as I continued to twist my fist around his swollen tip. Removing my left hand from his balls, I clamped thumb and index finger tightly around the base of his shaft, constricting the veins and making them bulge to heighten his excitement. I saw the bell-shaped head was becoming darker as it went into its final swelling, and it didn't feel as spongy any more. It had been larger than the shaft at the corona, but now flared out even more, giving it a really attractive profile. The ridge was hard under my fingers as I continued to massage it. His balls were tight against his body, and I knew he was close. Meanwhile, he'd pulled back harder on my hood, allowing him to hit the nerve endings in the deep groove behind my glans with the brush, and I felt my balls tighten against my body. The tension on my foreskin was so much that it pulled on my gee-string, making the head bend down towards my balls. I consciously tried to relax to delay coming, but my orgasm was nearing, and I was helpless to stop it, given the skill with which Lou handled my cock. I wanted him to come first, though, and I tightened my grip on his wet, slippery cock, giving a hard twist around his tip, making sure to hit the groove behind the head. I felt his cock throb in my fingers and saw a white jet shoot from his tip onto the towel as he grunted hard in ecstasy. Now his prick thrust hard into my fist as he shot again, and I wra pped the towel around his shaft and head to catch all the cum. He continued to thrust as I squeezed his hard prick through the cloth, and I felt his thighs slamming into the side of the mattress in the fury of his orgasm as he cried out helplessly. The rough terry cloth scraped his tortured tip, even though it had been softened and lubricated by his seepage and the glycerin lube on his cock. His frenzied thrusting sent hot sensations up his shaft to his brain, and I saw him stop working my prick as the rush of orgasm suppressed his volition and conscious thought. Lou's hands were on the mattress now, unable to continue stimulating my prick. His head was back and his jaw open in a silent scream as the sweet agony possessed him and his mind went on "hold." His body was responding automatically, and it didn't matter now how sensitive his tip had become. He was still thrusting, shoving his prick into the rough towel, the sensations overwhelming him, making him cry out softly in shuddering breaths. I smelled the odor of chlorine from the torrent of cream that was now seeping through the towel onto my fingers. The hot liquid was viscous and slippery, and I felt his high ridge sliding smoothly past my fingers through the cloth. His thrusting slowed, and his prick stopped throbbing. I heard him inhale deeply as he began recovering from the biological storm. I removed the towel, and he plucked a wet one from the container and wiped his prick clean. Then he picked up the brush and dipped it into the cup to gather more lather. My cock was still rock-hard, and he pulled my foreskin back tightly as he began stroking my cock-head with bold strokes, side to side, hitting the broad upper surface, the sensitive rim, and the deep groove behind it. He swiped the brush side to side against my orifice, sending hot sparks of sensation stabbing into my straining helmet. My tip tingled, and I felt myself slipping over the edge. The room faded, and Lou disappeared. This was just as well, because once I was gripped by the intensity of my orgasm, I'd be unable to take care of him. I opened my eyes to see my cock in my hand, the swollen purple head surrounded by its collar of foreskin that I was stroking back and forth. The single eye was staring at me and dripping slippery tears onto the paper towels on my stomach. I felt very close to orgasm, and slowed my strokes as I returned to the real world. Lubricant flowed freely from my teardrop shaped hole, and I heard myself breathing hard; "AH-AH-AH," as I approached climax. I stopped stroking altogether, holding the skin back hard to stretch the nerve endings, enjoying the twilight state on the edge of orgasm. A deep tickle in my cock-root told me that the final squirt of lube was on its way, and crawling up my tube until it seeped from my teardrop shaped hole. I pulled back harder on the skin, bringing my nerve endings to their peak, and I felt the heavy pounding of orgasm begin deep in my cock-root. Now my cock began throbbing and pumping jets of cream. I watched the first big surge dribble out of my cock-head onto the paper towels, and then my eyes closed as I lost myself in sensation. I felt myself slipping into the free-fall of orgasm, unable to think as the rush of sensations dominated my consciousness. The tingling in my prick spread all over my body as surges of hot juice drove up my tube to the end. I was aware that my hand was fisting my foreskin up and down my cock, crushing the high rim and then pulling back to stretch the nerve endings. Another torrent of thick cum poured from my helmet and I closed my eyes involuntarily as the hot tingling rushed up my spine to my brain. I cried out in agonized ecstasy, unable to control my feelings, helpless in the iron grip of my climax. I slowly came back to full consciousness as the jets slowed and finally stopped. My prick lay on my stomach in a wide puddle of cream, too sensitive to touch, as the final drop seeped from the gaping orifice in my glans. I felt the full sledgehammer effect of the orgasm hit me then, a heavy tranquilizing that made me relax utterly and drift off to sleep.
The end