Exploring, Part 17 By Jackinnm@yahoo.com
Brad and I had given each other writhing, raging orgasms that morning, and now we were hungry. We wiped off our dripping pricks and went into the kitchen, where I began to prepare breakfast. Impulsively I turned on the TV for the 12 o'clock news.
"The doctor was struck by a truck that apparently had jumped the curb, and did not stop after hitting him," the announcer's cheery voice intoned. No matter how serious or tragic the news, these TV talking heads always make it sound as if they're announcing a wedding or a party of some sort.
Half-listening, I continued to work at breakfast until the name "Crenshaw" penetrated my consciousness. I turned toward Brad, who was staring at the screen. >From the screen, a man's face stared back at us, with a string of numbers arranged under the collar.
"That's Crenshaw's booking mug shot," Brad explained to me. "Now he'd dead. Someone ran him down with a truck while he was out jogging this morning. You should have seen the look Crenshaw gave me in court after the judge let him have bail. The insolent asshole didn't realize the danger, and now he's dead meat."
"Well, can't say I'm sorry," I said as I prepared to serve the food. "Think there's any chance he'll get caught?"
"Too early to tell," Brad answered. "Depends on if there are any witnesses, damage to the truck, a bunch of other things."
"Well, at least I've got my alibi," I laughed. Brad joined in, his baritone chuckle filling the room. Then he said:
"Really, though, we both might be suspects if anyone else knew how we feel about bastards like Crenshaw. You must have read about how in Maine last month this guy tracked down a couple of child molesters listed on the state registry and blew them both away."
"Yeah, I read about that," I answered through a mouthful of food. "I kept close track of that story. I wonder if there are going to be any more."
"I'd bet on it," Brad said. "Once there's publicity, you get a number of copy-cat crimes. Maybe the guy who ran down Crenshaw was inspired by the shooter in Maine."
"Maybe by other shootings, too..." I mused.
"We'll have to see how this plays out. Let me get down to the office now. I think they might need me, and I can get a handle on this case." Brad wiped his mouth and headed for the bathroom. I heard the shower start as I took my last bite and quickly joined him under the steaming water.
"Got to get that sticky stuff off your prick," I said as I skinned him back to let the shower stream play on his exposed helmet and retracted foreskin. I felt his strong fingers skin me back and within a few seconds I felt the urgency begin. Brad had already started peeing, and my stream joined his on the shower floor as we flushed our urethras.
"Sorry I haven't got time for playing games, or I'd love to make my skin balloon out. I want to get into the investigation before much more time passes." We quickly soaped each other and rinsed off, and I turned off the water. As we dried ourselves, he asked:
"Okay if I come by later. I'm sure you'll want to know what's been happening. Just remember, you can't print any of this."
"Sure," I replied. "I'm going to go out shopping soon, but I'll be back by the late afternoon."
Brad arrived around 5:30, and fortunately I'd chosen to prepare a stew, which tolerated re-heating very well. As we ate he filled me in:
"Crenshaw went out jogging around six. He does this several times a week, but not every day. As it happened, this being Saturday, there was hardly anyone around when the truck hit him. There was broken glass from the truck's headlight, and this showed the truck to be a Ford F-150. That's not much help, since there are so many of them around. Between where they found the broken glass and the point where the body ended up, the accident investigators figure the truck hit Crenshaw and slammed him into a tree 30 feet away. Tire tracks showed that the truck jumped the curb to hit him. No eyewitnesses, although a couple of people in nearby houses said they heard the impact."
"Does that mean the driver got away clean?" I asked.
"Not necessarily," Brad replied. "We put an alert out to all the body shops in the area to watch for a Ford F-150 with front damage, but we can't even tell them what color since no paint chips flaked off the truck. If the truck had it a wall or another vehicle, some paint would have gotten knocked or scraped off, but hitting a human body usually doesn't do that."
"Maybe the driver might try to fix the damage himself," I suggested.
"He might, and we've notified the auto parts stores that handle Ford headlights to let us know if anyone buys one for an F-150 during the next few weeks. We also have to think that the driver might go way out of town to get the truck fixed. We can't cover the entire state, much less adjacent states." I was reluctant to put my feelings into words, but I suggested:
"Then maybe he might get away clean." Brad's eyes locked with mine.
"I know that's what you'd like, and I can't say I blame you. I don't have any enthusiasm for this investigation either, and luckily the regular detective detail's going to handle it since it's so cut and dried."
"In one sense, this is good news," I continued. "This wasn't a shooting, and for now it's just a hit and run, even though the truck's jumping the curb makes it look pretty deliberate."
"That's right," Brad confirmed. "It's pretty much a homicide, but not quite as high profile as if Crenshaw had been shot." Now we'd finished eating and I quickly washed the dishes. Then we went into the bedroom.
"I think we can get off before I have to leave for home," Brad said. I fingered his foreskin as he spoke.
"I like the way your foreskin's thin and delicate compared to mine," I said as I rolled the long nipple between two fingers. "All your nerve endings are intact compared to my graft." Brad had grasped my long foreskin by its thick end pucker and was tugging on it gently. Our pricks were responding, rapidly swelling with desire.
"Yeah, but I was just lucky, that's all. If my parents had had me done, I wouldn't have this skin," he responded.
"Want to try something different?" I asked.
"What?"
"Electro-sex," I answered. His eyes opened slightly.
"I've heard of it, but never tried it," he said. "You have the stuff to do it?" I rummaged in the drawer beside the bed and withdrew the equipment.
"This is the stuff," I said. "If you want I'll just use a simple hook-up on you. This blue band goes around the base of your prick." I fitted it to him as he lay back on the bed.
"Now I'll pull it tight. It's elastic, so you'll have a snug fit and good contact without any danger of strangling the blood supply. This cup shaped device fits over your tip. You can keep the foreskin forward. The current will go through it anyway and you'll get the same sensations." I squirted conductive jelly inside the cup and eased it onto the front of his erection, encasing the entire foreskin-covered helmet. Now I used a ring of tape to fix the cup onto his prick. Next I plugged in the wires and turned on the control unit.
"I feel something," he said as I gradually turned up the power. "It's a sort of tingle, running all the way up my cock."
"That's what you should be feeling," I said. "Now I'm going to turn up the power a little more and change it to PULSE mode." I made the adjustments and immediately his prick began to bob up and down.
"Each pulse makes my cock jump," he said. "Feels good."
"Just relax and enjoy it," I coached him. "You don't have to do anything. Stay relaxed and this magic box is going to bring you right up into orgasm. The cup will even catch your cream when you unload." I inched the power up another notch.
"Ahhhh, that feels so nice," he said, a smile creeping over his face.
"I'll leave it at this setting for awhile so you can get used to it," I said. Brad had spread his legs, and his loose scrotum was on the sheet between his thighs. As I watched, though, I saw it began to contract with every pulse to his prick.
"I can see how I'd come if you kept this up long enough," he said. His prick bobbed up and down, almost in rhythm with his words. I edged the power up an increment and saw his body tense slightly. His prick jerked harder with each pulse.
"I've got the rhythm set at about one per second," I explained. "That's about the natural rhythm of your ejaculations, and when you let go the pulses will increase your contractions."
Ohhhh," he murmured.
"Your balls are getting tight, Brad. That tells me this is really reaching you." I increased the power again, and watched his prick respond with more powerful jerks.
"I'm not going to decrease the power when you come, though. There's no physical friction, so it won't matter that your prick becomes super-sensitive. It'll be pure joy all the way." I nudged the power knob slightly higher.
"Ahhhhh," he groaned, louder this time. I knew he was getting close now. The insistent power pulses penetrated deeply into his prick, hitting not only the nerve endings but the nerves themselves. Now I gave him slightly more power because I knew we were still far from 100 percent and the margin of safety was very comfortable.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" he began grunting as his legs began to tremble. His prick jumped up and down in time with the pulses, and I knew that very soon the sperm would begin to spew from his tip, filling his foreskin and the inside of the bell with his cream. Now his stomach muscles contracted and I resisted the temptation to give him more power because it was clear that he'd discharge any second.
"HUNNNHHH! HUNNNH! HUNNNNH!" he grunted loudly as his face flushed and his hips thrust upward. His scrotum was contracting in time with the pulses and I knew he'd begun unloading.
His hips thrust again and I knew that another ffiery discharge was burning its way up his shaft, erupting to bathe his helmet and foreskin with its heat. He was having a full body orgasm, lost in the throes of his climax, and aware only of the glorious sensations in his prick and groin.
Brad shot several more times before his thrusts began to weaken, which is when I backed off on the power. I wanted to milk every last drop from his prick before turning off the power unit, knowing that even mild pulses would bring forth a few more drops to seep through the lips of his long slit.
Finally I turned off the unit and reached for a towel. White cream had begun to seep between the cup and the skin of his prick, and I knew that there would be a lot of liquid to sponge up with the towel. I delicately peeled the tape holding the cup and a large gush of white poured onto the towel. His foreskin was coated with cream, and when I wiped it I saw that the skin was ruddy. I pulled back slightly on his foreskin to expose the slit, which was still parted with drops of cream seeping between its lips. I stopped there because I knew that his prick was still sensitive to any friction, and waited until he'd had time to recover.
"Fuck that was good," he said a couple of minutes later. "I thought all my insides were blowing out my cock."
"It's pretty shattering," I admitted. "I'm really glad that you enjoyed your first time, and I'm really glad it was with me." At this point Brad's strong arms pulled me down in a tight hug.
"I'm glad it was with you, too." He murmured in my ear. "Now I want to do something special for you. I've never done this with any guy before so I may not be very good at it. Anyway, I don't think you have a disease and I know I don't." He quickly wiped his prick, skinning it back and replacing the hood over the precious head, and then put his face opposite my crotch.
"I don't know how you'll like it, but this is the way I'd like to get oral if I ever had the opportunity. I hope it's good for you." He grasped my prick, which was still hard from the excitement of having watched him come, and steadied it with thumb and forefinger around my hooded helmet. I felt the point of his hot tongue work itself into my pucker, probing for my glans.
"Oh, that's nice," I murmured as his tongue-tip probed deeper, reaching my slit. He swiped his tongue-tip across the lips of my slit a couple of times before pushing the very tip inside to give me a sensation I'd never felt before. Now he traced small circles around my slit, caressing my glans, his tongue stretching my foreskin with its bulk. Round and round went his tongue-tip, kissing my sensitive nerve endings, and I felt my excitement renew itself.
"I always thought having a tongue working around inside my skin would be heavenly," he said as he momentarily broke from his efforts. Now I felt his lips encase the end of my foreskin as he worked his tongue-tip inside once more, this time probing deeper to caress the entire front dome.
"It feels great to me, Brad," I said encouragingly as I felt his tongue circling my glans inside my hood. "I've had oral sex once or twice but it was nothing like this." He grunted as his tongue probed more deeply into my foreskin.
Now he'd slipped his fingers back behind the head of my prick, and encased the front end with his lips while his tongue reached ever deeper into the sac. I felt him swipe across the broad upper surfac e of my helmet, and then work down the side, dipping underneath to tickle inside the triangular groove where my hot spot is. Now he worked his tongue up the other side, tracing my corona up to where it flared on top.
His lips were now locked behind my corona, totally enveloping my glans and foreskin but keeping my thick hood fully forward as he stretched it with his thick tongue. The last time I'd had oral my partner had just skinned me back and sucked on my helmet, which was nowhere near as exciting as Brad's technique. Brad worked his tongue down the other side again, probing deeply into the cleft under my glans to hit the sweet spot.
Pausing only a moment, he now pushed his tongue as deeply into my foreskin as he could, and began running it up the back-face of my ridge, hitting the nerve buds there and those in the deep groove behind it. I was entranced by the novel sensations, and he added to them by gently cupping my balls in his strong fingers. I felt his tongue deep inside my foreskin, caressing the broad upper surface of my helmet at the same time that its tip flicked over my ridge's top flare and the nerve endings behind it. Now Brad stopped again and pulled away:
"I can feel how swollen and hard your helmet's getting. You're close. I'm going to make you lose a big load right now." He engulfed my prick again with his lips, and I felt his tongue stabbing deeply inside my foreskin. He began an aggressive twirling around my helmet, running his tongue up one side, over the top, and down the other, the tip caressing my ridge and groove. My hot hard helmet was fully swollen, absorbing the exciting caresses to its nerve endings, and I felt the tension build up deep inside me.
Now a tickling sensation built up in my glans as he dragged me closer to the brink. My eyes closed, and my awareness of the outside world faded as my attention focused increasingly on my prick and the delicious sensations Brad was giving me. I knew that within seconds, the tickle would turn into a hot tingle, and then the explosion would quickly follow.
My crotch muscles were very tight, even though I tried to remain relaxed. The unrelenting tickling by his tongue made my muscles contract by reflex, and now I was breathing heavily, in anticipation of the impending crisis. Brad's tongue circled my helmet mercilessly, and I was helpless in his hands as I felt the compelling tingle spread all over my glans.
The hot tingling sensation exploded, and I felt it travel down my shaft to the root of my prick. I cried out as a powerful spasm gripped my insides and the intense tickle of my ejaculation filled my urethra, spreading up my prick like lightning. The discharge burned its way up my prick and erupted to flood my foreskin and Brad's receptive mouth. I inhaled deeply and then cried out again as the second load emptied into my prick, distending my tube as it rushed up to the end. My engorged helmet and shaft throbbed hard as the torrent shot onto Brad's waiting tongue and I cried out again as his tongue swiped across my spurting helmet.
My entire consciousness was captivated by the intense sensations in my lower region, and when his tongue flicked my nerve endings to trigger another spasm, I cried out again, sobbing and gasping, helpless in the free fall of my orgasm. The hot juice seared my urethra as it sped toward my gaping orifice, slamming through the lips of my meatus and spraying the inside of Brad's mouth.
Now Brad stopped flicking his tongue because he understood that my helmet was becoming super-sensitive. He let the next spasm shoot into his mouth, and waited for the next. I noticed that my contractions were weaker now and my ejaculations less forceful. A few more spasms left me still and drained, as Brad had sucked all the sperm out of me.
We lay together without moving. I'm sure he knew that even the slightest movement of his tongue, which was still deep inside my foreskin, would cause me distress until the hyper-sensitivity had abated. My breathing slowed as I sank into a daze. Finally, I opened my eyes and said:
"Wow. That was powerful. You really drained me."
"You nearly drowned me, Jack. I'm not very experienced at this and it was all I could do to swallow when you started unloading." He'd removed his mouth from me and now held my softening prick by the end of its foreskin, keeping it pinched shut so that any residue wouldn't leak out.
"I guess I shot a lot, didn't I?" I asked. "I feel like you drained me." Now I felt his tongue caressing the front dome of my softening helmet as he began peeling back my foreskin.
"I have to clean you up," he said between licks. I felt his tongue running all over my helmet as he skinned me back progressively, licking away every trace of sperm. When he bared my ridge and the deep groove behind it, I shuddered as his tongue probed deeply to catch every drop. Finally he'd wiped the creamy film from every square millimeter of my helmet and foreskin, and he gently pulled it forward to protect the head.
He got dressed as I lay torpid on the bed and watched. We'd shared another intense experience, but he'd had more time to recover than I. He leaned over to give me a dry kiss on the lips before he let himself out the door.
Continued in Part 18