Beginning with Paul, Part 1
By Jacksantoro@yahoo.com
That day I'd dropped into an adult shop to buy a plastic squeeze bottle of Astroglide. This was before I knew it was available in Wal-Mart for several dollars less. I was casually acquainted with the clerk, enough to know that his name was "Paul."
"I guess you like this stuff," he said as he rang up the sale. "Personally I use Albolene, but we sell a bunch of different brands, so everybody's got his own taste." As he handed me my change I told him:
"I use it to lubricate my foreskin because I don't secrete much natural lube, and I feel more comfortable if my penis is well lubed. I put a couple of drops inside my foreskin each morning after I shower."
"I don't have a foreskin," he replied ruefully. The doctor cut mine off when I was born." I sympathized with him, as I'd considered myself lucky to have escaped being clipped like the majority of American males in my age group, early 30s.
"I've seen uncut guys gut never got a chance to play with one," he added. When I heard this I decided that, as I was unattached and not doing anything that evening, I'd offer him the opportunity to satisfy his desire and curiosity:
"If you're free this evening you can come over and play with mine."
"I get off work at six," he informed me. I wrote my address on a sheet from my notepad and handed it to him.
"Here, you can come right over if it's convenient. I'm only five minutes away. It's 5:30 now and I'm on my way home from work, so I'll pick up a pizza on the way home.
"Okay, I'll see you soon," he said, and I left. When I stopped at the pizza shop I realized that I'd neglected to ask him what he liked on his pizza. I decided to play it safe and order what most people liked: sausage and mushrooms. By the time the pizza was ready it was exactly six P.M. and I realized he'd arrive only a minute or two after I got home.
I was right. As I set the pizza on the kitchen table I heard the bell ring. I went to admit him, and led him back to the kitchen, looking casually at him. Paul was about my height, six feet, in his early 30s like me, and we both had brown hair and eyes. His face was thinner than mine and like me, he was clean-shaven.
"It's sausage and mushrooms," I said as I took a couple of bottles of beer from the refrigerator. "I hope that's all right with you." Paul smiled shyly and said:
"I like almost all kinds of pizza. I guess it's because I'm half Italian. Sausage and mushrooms suit me just fine." He reached out and squeezed my hand gratefully. I squeezed back and then opened the box.
"Well, I'm full Italian," I explained as we ate. "Both my parents came from Italy. I was raised on Italian cooking and I've liked it ever since."
"I guess that's why you didn't get circumcised like me," he speculated.
"That's right," I said. "My father wasn't cut because they don't do that shit in the old country. My mother thought that cutting on a baby's penis was barbaric. They told the doctor they didn't want me cut, either."
"Did they have a hard time convincing the doctor?" Paul asked.
"The doctor was surprised, but my parents were pretty forceful with him. My father was pretty adamant about it, and maybe the doctor got the idea that something bad would happen to him if I didn't leave the hospital with everything I was born with."
"Lucky you," Paul said between bites. The pizza was very good, and we were devouring it avidly.
"I wish you'd been my brother," I said as I chewed. "You wouldn't have been clipped either." As soon as I'd said it I was shocked by what I'd said. It seemed too intimate and somehow inappropriate. Paul noted the confused look on my face, for he replied:
"I know what you mean, Jack. Anyway, we hardly know each other."
"You're right," I agreed. "It's funny though, we hardly know each other and after we eat we're going to get naked and play with each other's prick."
"That's pretty intimate, I think," Paul said. "Let's get to know each other better while we eat, okay?" I nodded and Paul continued:
"Were you an only child? I was."
"I was too," I answered. "I know it's unusual in an Italian family, but there was just me. I don't really know why."
"I'm 32," Paul said. "How about you?"
"I'm a year older," I replied.
"I've never been married," he said.
"I'm divorced," I replied between bites. "No kids."
"I live alone, and I guess you do too," Paul added.
"You're right. I haven't had a live-in friend or lover for a couple of years."
"Do you get lonely?" he asked, staring intently at me.
"Yes, of course I do," I answered. "I'm sure you know what living alone can be like sometimes."
"I do," he said. "I really do."
"Well, anyway we're not going to be alone this evening," I concluded. By now we'd finished the pizza and were draining the last of our beer. I cleared the table and led the way to the bedroom, where I began stripping down without waiting for him. Paul followed my lead and our clothes quickly dropped to the floor. His eyes were fixed on my crotch, as I didn't turn away to undress. I knew he was curious about foreskin and I intended to satisfy his curiosity and more. When we were totally naked I took his hand and sat him beside me on the edge of my queen-size.
"Both our cocks are growers, not showers," he said. "Growers" are small and enlarge to about double size with erection. "Showers" are large to begin with, and don't swell much with erection, merely becoming more rigid.
"I get about six inches hard," I said.
"Mine's about the same," he told me. "Yours has that extra skin, though. It looks like a nipple or nozzle the way it sticks out ahead of your cock-head." I took his hand and placed it on my thigh.
"You can touch it," I urged. "Just be gentle. It's very sensitive."
"Oh, I know, Jack. An uncut cock's more sensitive than one that's been cut." He grasped my pendulous foreskin nipple between thumb and forefinger and lifted it, his touch sending an electric thrill into my prick. He rolled the nipple between his fingers, delivering a pleasant friction against my already swelling glans.
"You've got a nice head on yours," I said as I reached down and ran a fingertip around his flaring corona. "It's big and purple, a lot like mine." His prick began to stir as I caressed his rim, and then I ran my finger around his thick brown scar ring.
"That's very sensitive," Paul whispered. "That and the skin between the scar and rim."
"I know," I said. "I've handled a lot of cut guys' pricks. I also keep a jar of Albolene here. I know a lot of cut guys like it because it's very slick and doesn't dry out."
"Your skin feels very tight," Paul observed as he wrapped his warm fingers around my rapidly swelling erection. He was trying to push my foreskin back but the core of my prick was giving way to the pressure, collapsing because it wasn't fully hard yet. "Does it go back?"
"It goes back all the way," I explained. "You'll find it easy to skin back when I'm fully hard and the core offers resistance." I began squeezing Paul's glans between two fingers, certain that this was making the root of his prick contract in response.
"Each time you squeeze the head it makes my cock-root tighten up," he said. Now his penis was fully hard and I studied it.
"You've got a nice straight shaft," I observed. "It's very smooth, and the head's bigger than the shaft. Your rim really stands out."
"Yours is straight too," Paul said. "You've got a big vein running down the right side." The core of my prick now had fully expanded into the enveloping foreskin, filling most of the nipple. Paul gave my helmet a squeeze through the thick fleshy sleeve, and the root of my prick reflexively contracted.
"I'd say your glans is the helmet type, just like mine," I told him. "You've got the same blunt front dome and it tapers out toward the back. Your rim flares at the top just like mine. Even your hole pouts the way mine does, like a teardrop, now that it's hard."
"Your skin still covers the head all the way, even now that you're hard," he said. "I've seen a lot of pictures of uncut cocks in the magazines in the shop, and not many of them have skin that long. Yours still has a pucker at the end."
"You can push it back now, Paul. You'll find it slides easily." Paul began pushing my foreskin down, stretching the opening to the size of a dime and uncovering my teardrop shaped meatus.
"I like the way your cock smells," he said as the aroma of my wet glans and foreskin filled the room. "I wish mine smelled like that. It's so masculine."
"You can smell mine all you want," I said. "I know it excites you." Paul leaned down to put his nose closer to my prick and inhaled deeply. Now he pulled my foreskin up to close over the end of my glans, forming a pucker at the end.
"Your skin slides a lot easier now," he said as he pushed my hood down again, stretching the orifice to the diameter of a quarter and baring most of the blunt front dome of my helmet. "I've noticed it's thicker than most I've seen in the magazines."
"Yes, I've got a long thick foreskin, more than most guys have. It slides easily, but that's because I keep it lubed with Astroglide," I informed him. As I spoke I kept squeezing his shapely helmet, knowing that this was fueling his fire. He pulled my foreskin up again and reversed to stroke it down, this time exposing most of my glans.
"It's amazing how that skin stretches so much," he said in wonderment. "It stretches and gets thinner now that it's riding down over your helmet." He gently jiggled my foreskin a few times before pulling it back up. Now I reached for the jar of Albolene.
"Ready for this?" I asked, showing him the jar.
"Oh, yes," he breathed. "What you've been doing is great, but to get up to the level where I can come I need lube." At his words I took several dabs of the jelly-like lubricant and began rubbing it between my fingertips.
"I'm warming it up for you," I told him. I knew that applying cold lubricant to the warm penis could be a shock for some guys.
"Thanks," he replied. "I like it warmed before you put it on me." Now I began dabbing it on his swollen purple glans, spreading it in small circles around his meatus. I heard him sigh as my fingers worked over the compound curves of his helmet, caressing the nerve endings while working the now liquid lubricant into the delicate tissues. When my fingertips reached the strip of tissue between his corona and the scar ring behind it I felt his fingers tighten around my prick.
"I know that's sensitive," I murmured in his ear as I spread a thin film of lube over the circumference of his scar. Now I clasped his lubricated shaft between my fingers and began stroking him slowly, using long and sensual strokes from the base to over his helmet. I felt his fingers pushing my foreskin down, over my flaring rim and farther to snap down into the deep groove behind my glans.
"I love what you're doing to me," he whispered as his other hand reached down to cup my scrotum. "I hope it feels as good for you." Now he began working my foreskin up and down in long strokes, pulling it all the way up to enclose my glans and then pushing it down to bare it completely.
"It feels fine," I reassured him.
"I feel so hot," he said. "It's not just how you're stroking me. It's handling your cock. I never played with a cock that had skin."
"You're doing pretty well for an amateur, then," I said. "You seem to be doing everything just right. My prick's really hard and you're sliding the foreskin perfectly."
I want to make you come first, if that's all right," he said. "Stop stroking me, so I won't be distracted when you shoot." I followed his lead and removed my hands from Paul's stiff prick. I lay back on the bed to give him unobstructed access. His warm fingers continued to work my foreskin up and down in long, loving strokes that completely covered and then bared my glans right down to the groove.
"It's magical the way your helmet pops out and then goes inside again," he murmured as he caressed my glans with the flexible foreskin. "Do you tighten up when you want to come?"
"No, I just come," I answered. "Do you?"
"Yes, I can't come unless I tighten up my muscles inside," he replied. "That's the way I've always been. I can stroke for a long time and not come because my dick's not sensitive like yours." This was what several circumcised guys had told me. They, too, lacked the exquisite sensitivity of the naturally protected and moist glans, having become desensitized by removal of their foreskins, and had to clench their crotch muscles to bring on orgasm.
"Do you have to work hard with your fist to come?" I asked him.
"That too," he replied. "Sometimes I really have to pound it or I don't come."
"That's too bad," I said. "I just relax and enjoy the ride."
"This is so exciting for me," he repeated. "Handling a real man's cock with a real live skin hood makes me so hot."
"I'm enjoying it too," I said. "My prick loves attention. My foreskin loves being handled the way you're doing it now. I'm getting hotter feeling your fingers on my prick."
"I can tell," he said. "Your tip's getting darker purple, especially around the rim."
"It does that when I'm getting close," I informed him.
"Your tip's also getting harder, Jack. I can feel it even through the thick skin. Before this it was a little spongy. Now it's rock-hard."
"I'm getting a little tickle around the rim," I informed him. "This means I'm getting closer to climax." The persistent friction and compression of my corona's many nerve endings was having its effect.
"The back of your rim's really dark now, and those little buds around it are really standing out."
"Those little buds are the nerve endings," I explained. "When they stand out like that it means they're getting a lot of stimulation and reacting to it. Now I feel that tickle all over the head."
"You're really leaking juice now," he commented. "I know you said you don't secrete much lube but now that you're really excited you are."
"I think the tingle's starting now," I whispered as my eyes closed. I'll let go any second." A hot tingle filled my glans and I knew it would explode on the instant.
"AH-AH-AH!" I cried out as the root of my prick churned and shot a torrent of cream into my urethra. My entire prick was tingling as the hot stream seared its way up my prick to slam through the lips of my distended orifice. I felt Paul pull my foreskin up as the stream erupted, and then he snapped it down again, stretching my foreskin's nerve endings.
The heavy pounding of orgasm was in full force inside me, and another flood of sperm shot up my straining prick to shoot high into the air. I caught the chlorine odor as it landed on my stomach, and I cried out again.
I was totally caught up in the frenzy of my orgasm as my prick shot again, and my hips bucked as I thrust up into Paul's fist. Another hot spasm gripped me, and as my prick released its load it suddenly became super-sensitive.
"STOP! STOP!" I cried out, the sensations having become too acute and overwhelming me. Paul's fingers stopped stroking my foreskin and now just held it all the way down as another burning torrent rushed up my prick. I shot again, the jet streaming from my throbbing helmet, followed by several more gushes of lesser force.
As the last spasm went through me I began to relax, sinking into the daze that follows a hot orgasm. I lay still for a minute before recovering enough to open my eyes. Paul's face was right above mine as he placed a soft kiss on my lips.
"That was so beautiful, Jack," he said. "I felt your cock throb each time you shot and watched each jet flying into the air. At the end, though, you were just dribbling from your tip. I do that too at the end." He kissed me again and lay down beside me, wiping my stomach with tissues.
"Thanks so much," I said weakly. "You gave me a really hot orgasm, with your enthusiasm. That really turned me on.
"You turned me on, Jack. Look at my cock. It's still rock-hard even though you haven't touched it for a couple of minutes. I reached over and wrapped my fingers around his lubricated shaft, bringing it up to caress the helmet.
"Wow, you are hard," I agreed.
"How come you told me to stop right in the middle?" he posed the question.
"I forgot to tell you, Paul, most uncut guys get too sensitive when they come. The tip got so sensitive it almost hurt." Now I propped myself up and began working Paul's prick seriously, pumping it so that he'd get the full effect.
"Can you squeeze a little tighter?" he asked. "I need more pressure because it's not as sensitive as yours." I responded by tightening my fingers around his prick, and now I clamped the fingers of my left hand around the base of his shaft.
"I'm squeezing your prick at the base to compress the veins and make your erection harder," I explained. "Do you want me to go faster?"
"Yes, please," he said. "I always used faster strokes when I want to come." I increased my pace, feeling him respond as his already rigid prick hardened further in my hand.
"Now your helmet's getting darker," I said. "It's harder too, now that I'm squeezing your shaft."
"Oh, that feels good, Jack. I'm already so worked up from making you come that I'm ready to shoot." I gave his swollen glans a twist around the corona on each up-stroke now, twisting in the opposite direction on the downward journey. He gasped.
"How does that feel, Paul? Does that twisting stroke do something for you?"
"Fuck, yeah!" he cried out. "I'm almost there." I saw his body tense and his legs begin to tremble as he tightened up to induce his orgasm. His helmet was an angry shape of dark purple, the rim flaring out sharply, standing out against the neck of his penis. Now as my clenched hand flew up his shaft the web between my thumb and forefinger caught and compressed the rim as I twisted my fist, and he gasped with each stroke.
The veins stood out along his shaft as I maintained my tight grip around the base. The Albolene made his entire prick glossy, from the base to the flaring, straining helmet, as Paul tightened his muscles further, striving to trigger his orgasm. I gave his helmet another twist as I brought my fist down, caressing the sensitive tissue between his rim and thick scar ring.
"OWWWW!" he cried out as I felt his hot hard prick throb in my fingers. A thick rope of white cream erupted upward from his distended slit, falling back on my encircling fingers and his stomach. He cried out again as my fingers twisted around his helmet, and I felt it throb hard as another gush poured from his orifice. I rotated my fist so that my palm swiped across the blunt front dome of his glans as he moaned helplessly and another jet shot into my palm.
Paul bucked his hips and thrust his helmet deeper into my fist as he was swept away by the frenzy of his orgasm. I sensed the delicious fire of orgasm consuming him as I continued to stroke his thrusting prick, confident that I wouldn't over-stimulate him. His desensitized glans needed all the friction I could give it to maintain the momentum of his climax, and I made him shoot again, the odor of his chlorine-scented cream filling the air.
Now Paul's jets were weaker, dwindling to a dribble, as his orgasm came to a close. I kept working his prick, knowing that each stroke added to his pleasure even though the main event had passed. When I felt him start to soften in my hand I released my grip on the base of his prick and began milking his urethra, starting at the back behind his sac and working forward. My fingertip pressed along his tube, pushing the residue forward as I watched it seep from his slit.
Paul's eyes were still open, staring fixedly at the ceiling, as he came down off his high. His breathing had slowed as his body relaxed, and now he was experiencing his afterglow. When his eyes turned toward me, signaling that he was fully aware of my presence, I leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
"That was out of this world," he whispered. I kissed him again, happy that I'd been able to provide such a sublime pleasure for him, and felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me down to him.
"I'm glad it was good for you," I said. "I'm glad I was able to give you the same you gave me."
"More than the same," he corrected me. "I was able to play with an uncut cock."
"You're right," I admitted. "I've stroked a lot of circumcised guys but I'm the first natural guy you've played with." He hugged me more tightly and our lips met again.
"I want to play with you again," he said.
"I'd like that," I responded.
"You might get tired of me," he suggested anxiously.
"No, I don't think so," I said.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because you're not just a hot guy, you're a nice guy. I think we're going to get along just fine." He tightened his grip on me again and gave me a deep kiss, tongue twirling around mine, before we got up to shower.
Continued in Part 2