"What the hell are you talking about, Woody?" I was mad, and I was also tired. My legs hurt, my arms were exhausted from being held at the ends of the rod, my balls didn't know whether to keep making cum or just go blind, my butt was tense and sore from holding those beads in and having some of them yanked out, and yet my dick was still horned to the hilt. And it was obvious to them as they looked at my dick that it wanted all it could get; it was primed and ready.
Carson and Taylor were beside themselves with glee. They each danced on one foot and then the other, like maybe they needed to go to the bathroom.
"Well, Jason, like I said, it's just a simple game. All you have to do is tell us how many strokes it will take to make you cum, and we'll keep count, and if you get within 20 strokes of getting it right, you're free to go. What could be simpler than that?"
This was insane. I had never kept count of my strokes in my life. I tried to think of what to say, and finally I asked, "How fast or slow will you go?"
"We can go at whatever speed you want. Just keep in mind that with fast strokes, you're using up your number quicker. But we'll take turns." He looked at the two scouts and they did high fives to each other. Then he added, "And the one working your dick will call out the count with each stroke. Is that fair enough?"
"Wait a minute. I can see that if I shoot off too soon, I lose. But what if I haven't shot off by the end?"
"In that case, we'll pull a couple more beads out of your ass and let you pick a new number, and start the count all over. Oh, and by the way, if you shoot while we're pulling the beads, it doesn't count."
I hated the whole idea. And with all of them constantly looking at me buck naked, at my dick bobbing with every movement of my body, of them having all the fun and me having to put up with it, I couldn't even think straight.
"Let me think about it." I glanced down at my dick. It gleamed like the polished shaft of a gun barrel waiting to go off.
"Don't take too long. These boys will have to leave soon; the scout campout looked like it was nearly over, like they were getting ready to pack up when I went by coming here. Someone will come looking for them soon. If they don't get to finish the game, I'll have to call in some other people to help with it. And I'd also have to find another time to get you again so they could play. So you better come up with a number soon."
Carson and Taylor whooped at that. I'll bet their little peckers were about to shoot off in their pants by now. And it sure was giving Woody's dick a trip. The front of his pants had a stain that slowly got wider. I'll bet he would be stuck to his shorts before this was over.
I tried to think straight. I figured that in five minutes I could shoot off, but how many strokes would that be? If they worked me fast, would it be one stroke a second, or would it take two seconds. That was important because it as the difference between 60 strokes a minute and 30 strokes a minute.
Woody seemed to think I had waited too long. "Come on, Jason. Pick a number, any number. We need to get started on that pole of yours. And it sure is gleaming and ready for us to begin."
I took a deep breath, and finally guessed "450." I had no idea if that was good or bad.
"Fast or slow?"
"Fast." Anything to get this all over with. My dick was dripping, but it held its head high.
"Ok. Which one of you wants to go first?"
Taylor almost fell all over himself, raising his hand and saying "Me! Me! I do!"
"OK. Remember to keep the count, and say it loud. Since there's three of us and Jason said his number is 450, we'll each do a third. At the count of 150, you step aside, and Carson you be ready to start right in.
He wants it fast so don't waste time. And at 300 Carson, you turn it over to me. Any questions?"
They shook their heads, and Taylor stood on a chair beside me. He was really ready.
"Begin!"
He wrapped his hand on my shaft, starting at the head and going all the way down, then going back up to the head. "One!"
My dick reacted like electricity and my balls started to draw up like I was getting ready to shoot. Taylor was going fast, and my dick was slick enough to make it easy on him and me. He had really good action with that hand. I bet he could make a guy practically beg to have him work their shaft.
Woody was rubbing his pants and squeezing his dick. He was loving this. I squeezed my butt hard to help get the best sensation from Taylor's hand. The beads up my ass were nudging to get out, so the whole effect was that the backside of me was holding off and the front side wanted to go for broke.
I began to sort of ripple my body from feet to shoulders, going with the rhythm of Taylor's strokes. He kept up his rapid fire speed and the numbers were getting higher. It wouldn't be long before his turn was up. I think he must have realized that, because he began to squeeze my dick harder, holding it tighter as he went up and down. And now each time he reached the top of my dick, he was moving his first finger over the tip of the head, over the piss slit. It was a sensation that made me quiver. I hadn't ever had that done to me before. It was great and yet sort of painful, since it was making the slit more sensitive. It was I guess an electric thrill each time, but one I also wanted to get over so it could end.
He wasn't bringing me off, but he had built me up enough that I knew the cum wouldn't be much further away. I tried to hold back, and at the same time he slowed. "One forty. One forty-one." That hand was playing with my dick as well as working it.
But finally he reached 150, and he stepped down. Carson instantly took his place. That was when I realized there would be a problem. Taylor's hand was slick from working me; Carson's hand was dry. So as he said "One fifty-one" he was almost riding rough down my shaft.
Of course that didn't seem to bother him. On the next stroke up, he tried to swipe precum off the piss slit.
But the trouble with that was that all of Taylor's strokes across that spot had about emptied any of the stuff for the moment.
Carson's hand was almost bumping as he went down again, and I pulled back as far as I could. "Hey!" I said, "I need some lube here."
"Run dry?" Woody asked with a grin. "I'll see what I can do to help." He went past me, and I thought he was going to the kitchen. Suddenly it was like my backside came alive. He pulled out another bead, and then before I could get my breath, he yanked again and a second one came out. They were the huge ones by now, and the effect reverberated through my system. My dick danced, my balls churned, and as I looked down I saw that indeed some precum was again flowing wildly. My whole system seemed to go electric, and what my butt didn't tell me my dick did. It was a full charge all around, and I was near the brink.
I cussed him wildly, but he said "Enjoy it while you can. There's only one bead left, and when it's gone you're on your own."
Carson oiled my precum all up and down my shaft, and started working it again. I couldn't really tell exactly how close I was to shooting off, but he had good speed. He kept grinning as he worked it, calling out each number as he pumped. My dick was pretty red by this time.
But suddenly as he worked I realized I couldn't hold back any longer. Something inside was taking over, my dick was about to orbit the moon, and I was primed to shoot. I tried to hold back, I scrunched my toes and squeezed my butt muscles and tried everything else I could think of, but it was no use. My dick was so sensitive by this time that it wasn't going to wait for anything.
It surprised Carson when I shot; surprised him so much that he jumped back, letting go of my dick and letting me shoot off into space. My dick trembled, bucked, bounced, swung wildly back and forth. But somehow there wasn't as much cum this time.
When I calmed down, Woody said, "Well, well. Looks like you lost on that one. It was nowhere near 450. Guess we'll have to start over."
But before anything more could happen, a voice off somewhere in the distance started calling for Carson and Taylor. The two guys looked up in a surprised and scared way.
"You better go" Woody said. "We don't want anybody to walk in on this."
Carson and Taylor were obviously disappointed. "I never got a full turn," Carson complained. He reached up for my dick again. It was starting to go limp at last. He gave it a few tugs like it was a bell rope, but got no reaction.
"You're run out of gas," he said.
"No he hasn't. This party hasn't gotten started yet. But you two guys go on now. I'll get hold of you sometime in the future and you can get your complete turn. And Taylor can play with it again too."
The voice called a second time, sounding impatient. They hurried out the door and down the long stairs. Now I was alone with Woody. For a moment, all was silent.
"Well, well, well. Alone at last."
"Go to hell, Woody. We're not going to be alone for long. This is Larry's house and he'll be coming back.
And I don't think he's going to want to find you here, after all the trouble currently going on over Norton and drugs. He's going to want to look clean as a whistle."
Woody looked me up and down. "You may be right. I guess I'll have to take you away somewhere."
"By yourself? You're not man enough."
"Like hell I'm not." And going behind me, he pulled out the last bead. I hollered like the world was ending.
"What's going on in there?" a voice from outside called. For an instant we both froze, and then I recognized who it was. Larry came in the door.
In his manner and in his facial expression, it was a different Larry than the one who had run out the door to get the tape from Norton. He seemed worried and preoccupied. He glared at Woody.
"Get him down from there and get gone!"
"Why?"
"Because, dumbass, somebody from the station is probably going to come and search my place. They don't really think I'm into drugs, but they need to make sure. But I don't want to raise any questions about anything else. My job could be on the line over this."
Woody seemed inclined to argue, until Larry barked out angrily, "Do it! Get him down from there!"
Reluctantly Woody started freeing my wrists. When he had gotten them free, I could lean down and untie my ankles. It sure felt good to move again. As I was doing all that, Larry said, "And get some clothes on. Your dick looks positively obscene."
Larry was in a bad mood, all right. But my dick did look the worse for wear.
He gathered up all his New Orleans sex stuff and gave them to Woody. I wondered if he would regret it later.
"Take this stuff and go, Woody. And keep your mouth shut!"
Woody nodded meekly and hurried out. But he couldn't resist one last comment. Turning at the door, he said, "It was good to 'see' you again, Jason. We'll have to 'play' again soon."
"I'm going to get you, Woody, and in a way that you'll never forget."
But he was gone down the stairs by the time I finished speaking.
I was dressed now. "Where's Kevin?"
"I told him to let me come and get Woody out. He's waiting in your back yard. He's not in any trouble, and his folks know he's OK. Right now his parents are mainly concerned whether Butch will be involved with any of this mess about Norton."
I nodded. Things had changed so much that I wasn't sure what to say.
Larry walked over to the VCR and pulled out the tape that he and Woody had been watching just four or five hours ago.
"Here. You take it. And I'd suggest you destroy it."
"Thanks. What about the tape you went to get, when you walked in on the drug squad?"
Larry grinned. "While they were doing their duty, I managed to take it out of Norton's camera bag. It's now been destroyed. But I did have a few tense moments after I shoved it down the front of my pants. I didn't want it to drop out, so I kept pretending to scratch my balls and adjust my crotch. They never caught on, but I do think they may believe I have some sort of sex kick going with myself."
I grinned. Then, changing the subject, I told him, "You know I'll get Woody for what he did today."
"I understand. Just wait a while. Wait until this trouble blows over or gets solved, and maybe I'll even help you."
I grinned again, and he grinned back. I think we had finally reached an understanding.
"See ya."
I went on down the stairs, into the late afternoon sun. Driving home, there was no sign of the boy scouts, so I guess everyone got home safe. I could settle with them another day.
For me now it was just the end of an August day, and I wasn't going to worry about a thing. I parked in the back yard, and looking up I saw Kevin on the second floor porch, sitting at the top of the stairs.
I waved as I crossed the yard, and he rose and stood waiting. At the top of the stairs, I took him in my arms and kissed him.
"What will your folks say?" he asked with a grin.
"I'll think of something to tell them later. But right now, let's you and me go inside."
We went into my bedroom. I was happier than I had ever been.
(The End) --------------------------------- Thanks, guys, for all the email. A sequel may be coming soon. - Bart