Recovery By Jackinnm@yahoo.com
I hadn't seen Stan for over 20 years, which is why we didn't immediately recognize each other while in line at the supermarket. When I heard his voice as he addressed the cashier, I realized that it must be him.
"Hey, remember me, I'm Jack?" I asked as he took his change. He turned his head and his eyes lit up.
"I'm glad to run into you," he replied. "I'll wait up while you're getting checked out, and then we'll talk." Once outside, as I had bought nothing perishable, I followed his suggestion to accompany him to his house, which was only a mile away. That summer evening it was still light when I pulled into his driveway behind him. I helped him carry his bags into the kitchen, where he put away their contents.
He was my height, six feet, and had brown hair as I did. His eyes were blue, in contrast to my brown ones.
Stan and I had grown up on adjacent streets, had gone to the same schools, and we'd been very close as teens, having experimented sexually as many teens do. We'd lost contact when he turned 18 and joined the air force. He'd retired after 20 years in the service and several years ago had moved back and opened up a small printing business. I'd been working for the local newspaper since I'd graduated college.
"You married?" he asked as he placed a couple of bottles of beer on the kitchen table.
"Yes, and divorced," I replied. "How about you?"
"Same here, Jack. I got married a couple of years after I joined the service. She was air force too, and we thought it would work out, but it didn't. She got involved with a sergeant on the rebound from a divorce, and she left me for him."
"I guess the relationship wasn't as solid as you'd thought," I said. "Same thing happened to me."
"Any kids?" Stan asked.
"Fortunately not," I answered. "Lucky for them. Kids always get the worst of it when a marriage breaks up. How about you?"
"No, we didn't have any kids either. The main reason was that Sharon was too interested in having a good time to take care of any kids or assume any responsibility. Anything else significant happen in your life?" We had a lot of catching up to do, as we were now in our 40s.
"Yes, there is one thing that might interest you..." I began. "You remember how we both hated it that we'd been circumcised?" As kids we'd compared pricks, and we'd seen those of other boys in the locker room, and we'd always been chagrined that we were missing something luckier boys still had.
"Yes, I remember vividly. I still hate it," he replied.
"Well, about 15 years ago I took the plunge. I had plastic surgery to put a new hood on my prick. It cost me about eight thou and involved a long recovery, but I think it was worth it." At this point Stan stood and said:
"Let's go outside. I've got a high fence around my yard. Nobody can see in, and the sun's too low for us to get sunburned. We can get bare-assed if you want to. Anyway, I've got something to show you too." He turned and I followed him. We stripped and sat in chaises longues on his patio, sipping our beers.
"I guess that's what you wanted to show me," I said, pointing at his penis. He had smoothly tapering skin from the base to the end, where it formed a thick pucker. "What did you do?"
"I did the same as you, but without the surgery," He said. "I used skin stretching."
"When I went for the plastic surgery I thought it was the only way. I hadn't heard about stretching. That's what you did, right?" He nodded.
"What sort of skin graft did you get for the new foreskin?" Stan asked. "Your cock looks like it has a dark band at the end."
"That's a graft from my scrotum," I answered. "The doctor cut loose a ring of shaft skin and inverted it over the head for the inner lining. Then he used scrotal tissue for the outside skin."
"It looks kinda tight," Stan said. "Does it go back?"
"Try it and see," I invited him. I wondered if he'd become shy about touching another penis since I'd last seen him. He shifted slightly and I felt his warm fingers around the end of my prick, testing the tightness of the new hood. My penis was still soft and he had to get a firmer grip on it to stabilize it so that he could push back the new foreskin. I felt the pressure of his fingers as he gently pushed my hood back toward the base of my prick, exposing the front dome of my helmet.
"Yeah, your skin slides all right," he said. "It's tighter than mine, and a lot thicker. Does that feel good?"
"It feels great, Stan," I said as I fingered his prick. He hadn't mentioned any girlfriend or other attachment, and I suspected that Stan was as unattached as I was. This meant that he'd welcome some sex play right now. After all, he was the one who'd suggested getting naked.
"I can feel your cock swelling," he said as he pushed my new foreskin back farther until it was poised on the crest of my corona. "You've still got that flaring rim," he added.
"Your prick's starting to swell too," I said as I felt it stir between my fingers. I wasn't pushing his foreskin back, but squeezing his glans between my fingers to produce the bulbo-cavernal reflex. I knew that each squeeze made the root of his prick throb and contract.
"With that extra skin, both our cocks are a little bulkier," Stan commented. "I like the added thickness."
"I do too," I said. "I think we're still both at about six inches in length."
"Six inches hard, and without the skin forward," Stan corrected. "I know that we're both a little longer without hard-ons, because of the extra skin." He was right, as both our new hoods extended beyond the glans when we were limp, adding an extra half-inch. Even hard, we had slightly more foreskin than glans.
There were some differences between our pricks as well. Erect, Stan's shaft was flattish, and the urethra made a barely distinguishable bulge underneath. My shaft was more triangular, narrower and deeper than his, the prominent urethral bulge clearly visible. Stan's tip was also flatter than mine, and the corona not as high. Stan's prick had a slight downward curve, while mine was arrow-straight. The orifice at the end of his glans was a long slit. Mine wasn't quite as long but it pouted with erection, the lips assuming a teardrop shape. Stan's prick secreted a lot of lubricant, while mine did not.
"Looks like the doctor didn't give you a new gee-string," Stan said as he held my foreskin tightly back and studied the underside of my glans.
"No, and I didn't ask him to," I responded. "I didn't want any more cutting than necessary on my prick. I knew the gee-string was gone for good, along with its nerve endings, and even if he stitched in a fake one, it wouldn't be as sensitive as the original."
"What about your new skin?" Stan asked. "Is that as sensitive as the original?"
"I don't think so," I replied. "Of course, I don't really know how sensitive my original one was, since it was cut when I was born. The graft doesn't have much sensitivity, since grafting it meant cutting the nerves. The nerve pathways didn't regenerate much, and all I can feel in the new foreskin is pain if I pinch it too hard."
"What about the tip?" he continued. "Mine got really sensitive after I had it covered. Did yours?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "Once it was covered, the sensitivity increased a lot. The surface got shiny and darker purple."
"I remember," Stan said. "Our tips were pink before. They were also dry and leathery."
"I don't have to tighten up to come these days," I said. Years ago, my prick was so insensitive I had to tighten my crotch muscles as I stroked to bring on orgasm.
"I don't have to do that either now that my tip's more sensitive," Stan said. "I remember how we both had to tighten up when we jerked off."
"It feels better for me now," I added. "I just stroke, stay relaxed, and let the orgasm come to me." We were both now stroking each others' pricks, slowly and sensually, knowing that the sensation of foreskin sliding over lubricated tips would bring us off without effort.
"I think we'd better go inside now," Stan said. "My neighbors have their windows open, and you know how vocal we get when we shoot our loads." We stood and picked up our clothes and then Stan led the way into the bedroom.
We sat facing each other on the bed, gently stroking our pricks. Stan's foreskin was definitely looser than mine, and rolled back easily from the swollen head. I pushed it down to the base of his shaft, putting tension on his frenulum.
"That makes the head dip down," I observed. Stan's glans was definitely dipping towards his scrotum as I kept his frenulum tightly stretched.
"Oh, yeah," Stan gasped. "That pulling on my gee-string feels so good."
"I can imagine," I said. "It puts tension on the nerve endings. I get a hot sensation too, even without having a gee-string. The tension affects the nerves in the skin."
"Like this?" Stan asked as he wrapped his fingers tightly around my shaft behind the helmet and pushed back hard, dragging my shaft skin against my stomach.
"Oh, that looks nice," Stan continued. "The skin's all the way back and that purple rim of yours really stands out against the neck of your cock."
"It feels nice too," I whispered. "I always enjoyed feeling your fingers wrapped around my prick." Impulsively I leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. We held the kiss for over a minute, inhaling each others' breaths in that intimate moment.
"This feels nicer than when we used to do each other in the old days," he said. "Our cocks are more sensitive now."
"I know, Stan. We're both using a lighter touch because of that. Before we used to have to squeeze and pump hard to make each other come. Now I think we'll just have to stroke lightly." Now Stan was just bumping my flaring corona with the ring of bunched skin behind it, and I was doing the same to him.
"This stroke's just right, Jack. We don't have to pump hard. We're both rim-sensitive, so this is going to do it for us."
"I can see it's doing it for you, Stan. Your balls are getting tighter." His scrotum, looser than mine, was drawing upward against his body.
"You're getting excited too," he said. "Your tip's getting dark purple now, and I think the rim's swollen even more."
"You're really lubing now," I observed. "It's running down onto my fingers and I'm going to lose my grip on your foreskin. I'll probably end up giving you direct action on the head." Stan's glans was fully freed from the hood that I was holding back tightly, and as long as I retained my grip on the foreskin I was able to bump his corona on the up-stroke and put tension on his frenulum on the down-stroke. Each time I pulled down the front of his glans dipped and another drop of clear viscous fluid oozed from its orifice.
"If you touch the head directly you'll make me pop right away but that's all right," he said. We knew from experience that having our orgasms one after the other was preferable to simultaneous climaxes because we could watch and feel the other's throbs and hear his grunts. If we came together our consciousness would be submerged and we'd be aware only of our own orgasms.
"Okay, then, you go first," I said. "I'll just get this pillow and put it between us to catch the cream." Stan leaned forward slightly as I stroked his bunched skin to stimulate him, and his breathing deepened. I saw his face flush as the clear ooze from his tip flowed between his prick and my tightly encircling fingers, breaking the friction. My fingers slid freely over his hot throbbing glans and I gave it a slight twist to enhance the sensations in his corona. Stan's body jerked and I felt a responsive throb in his prick.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" he grunted as the sensations took hold and drew him into their vortex. His jaw clenched and his stomach tightened as he poised on the brink of orgasm, and now I squeezed his glans and rotated my fist around it to trigger his storm.
A powerful throb filled my fist as he grunted loudly, and an instant later I saw a thick white jet erupt from his tip. It felt hot as it landed on my fingers and I knew it must have seared his urethra on its way up to the tip. Stan cried out loudly in joyful agony as his prick spurted jet after jet, and I saw his entire body shudder as it strained with the contractions of his orgasm. I smelled the familiar chlorine odor of Stan's semen as I felt his hot hard prick throb again between my encircling fingers.
I stopped stroking Stan's penis, because I knew from my own experience that the head became super-sensitive during orgasm. As circumcised teen-agers, we'd been able to stroke our pricks all the way through until we'd stopped spurting, but with our regained sensitivity, continued friction would cause distress.
Stan's prick was now just dribbling, making large wet spots on the pillow, and I felt his tense body begin to relax as he slumped against me. His breathing slowed, and I knew he was slipping into the afterglow. Like me, Stan needed a couple of minutes to recharge, but would soon be back to finish me off. I grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the bedside table and began wiping his prick very gently, as his super-sensitivity would continue for a couple of minutes. His prick was softening in my hand as I blotted the long slit in his tip, squeezing the length of the shaft to force out the last drops.
I eased his foreskin up over the shrinking glans and wiped the outside with another tissue. He'd secreted a lot of lubricant, some of which had run down into his pubic hair, and I blotted this as best I could.
"That was nice, really nice," I heard him whisper as I finished wiping his penis. "I never thought I'd run into you again, and never imagined it could be this good." Stan kissed me on the mouth, and we clung together for a minute before I felt his fingers wrap around my prick.
"Just lie back now," he urged. "It's your turn now, and I'm going to make you feel really good." His strong fingers resumed pumping my foreskin, pushing it up to bump against my flaring rim, and then drawing it down to bare the neck of my shaft and stretch the tissues, giving me an extra thrill.
"We've both made a good recovery from our circumcisions, and we're more sensitive now. You gave me a really hot thrill while you were stroking me, and I'm going to do the same for you." Stan kept pumping my turgid flesh as he spoke, increasing my excitement as I surrendered to his touch.
"You're really going now," he continued. "I'm just bumping that flaring rim, not riding over it. That rim's really expanded now, and the whole helmet's turned darker too. It's so swollen the skin is shiny." As he spoke and continued producing little shocks against the base of my helmet, I felt my consciousness begin to fade. My mind increasing focused on the delicious sensations in my prick instead of the outside world, and I gradually withdrew into myself as my arousal mounted.
"Your balls were already tight against your body," he commented as he cupped them with the fingers of his other hand. "That's because they used some of the skin to build you a new foreskin, right?" I nodded affirmatively, my eyes locked with his as he peered down at me.
"When you were bumping my rim," he said. "I got a nice tickle right there. Are you getting it too?" Again I nodded, and Stan stepped up the pace slightly. The tickle intensified. It built up and spread all over my helmet, bathing it in sensations. Now my eyes closed.
"Right about now you should be feeling the tingle," he said. He was right. The tickling feeling gradually changed to a hot tingle that enveloped my glans, and I knew that the powerful contractions of orgasm were only seconds away. My breathing was labored, and I began to moan loudly as the sensations intensified.
"Your cock's harder than I've ever felt it," he said to me as he continued to stroke it. My stomach muscles tightened, my legs began trembling, and I felt myself slipping over the edge. Now I felt as if I were being lifted on a huge wave as my body responded forcefully and the heavy pounding of orgasm began deep inside me.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" I grunted as the sensations overtook me and I felt the first hot torrent pouring into the root of my prick. It felt like hot lava as it surged up my tube and slammed through the lips of my slit. I writhed on the bed as another contraction gripped me, and I moaned in agonized joy as the jet seared my urethra on its way up and out of my prick. I grunted again as another spasm hit me, and I felt the surge of semen distending my urethra, flowing upward.
Now Stan's fingers stopped stroking me, and just kept my foreskin drawn back tautly, to avoid over-stimulating me. The tension in my prick-skin maintained the momentum of my orgasm, and several weaker jets erupted from my throbbing helmet before the flow settled down to an ooze. I felt myself relaxing as the hurricane of sensations left my body. As I returned to full consciousness from my daze, I became aware that Stan was delicately wiping my helmet with a tissue, working around and behind it, and then pushing the protective flesh up over it.
Stan lay down beside me and we hugged silently for many minutes. I reflected that we'd been lucky to run into each other after many years. I didn't have many friends, and as Stan was as introverted as I, most likely he didn't have many either.
"Well, I guess I'd better be getting home," I said. "I have to work tomorrow and so do you." I got up and Stan offered me a wet washcloth to wipe myself, and then watched me get dressed.
"Come on over tomorrow after work," he said. "Are you free?"
"I sure am," I responded. "I'll be here at 5:30, if it's convenient for you."
"That'll be just fine," he said. "I'll have sandwiches ready."
"Sandwiches will be fine for a hot summer evening," I said. I kissed him lightly on the lips and left. Next evening I rang his bell, and when he opened the door I saw that he was already naked. He stood behind the door as I entered and closed it behind me. Following his unspoken invitation I stripped off my clothes before following him into the kitchen. The tiles were cold against the soles of my feet, but I didn't mind because I was so happy to be in his company again. A plate of assorted sandwiches was on the table and he brought out two bottles of beer from the fridge.
"I'm glad you're here," he began.
"We're a lot alike," I added.
"You had a surprise for me last night," he said. "Now I've got something to tell you."
"What's that?" I asked.
You know how much we both resented getting cut as babies," he continued. "Well, some years ago I took care of the doctor who did it to me."
"How do you mean?" I asked, a suspicion forming in my mind.
"Well, I knew who he was because of his signature on my birth certificate. Did you know I was born right here in town at General Hospital?"
"I didn't, but I can see how that would make it easy to track him down unless he'd moved out of state."
"This doctor was still here, and he still practiced at General Hospital. One evening I waited for him in the parking lot. Locating his car was easy because all doctors had assigned spaces with their names on them. I had a piece of rebar and a small sledge with me, and when he came out I hit him from behind and stunned him. I got him right in the neck and when he was down I tied up his wrists with duct tape and put a piece across his mouth and another over his eyes."
"Shit! What did you do, kill him?" I asked, because a similar impulse had come over me once, long ago.
"No, but I smashed his fingers with the sledge, so that he'd never clip another kid." Stan explained, a grin coming over his face. "I made sure I smashed every finger, and for good measure I broke his wrists too. He recovered, but can you imagine him trying to take a piss or wipe his ass with both wrists and all fingers broken?" Stan was laughing loudly now, very amused by the mental picture of the hapless doctor. I joined in, as I agreed that it was very funny.
"Did you think about the risk of getting caught?" I asked.
"There was always a risk of someone coming by right at that moment, but back then there were no security cameras covering the parking lot, so there was no chance of getting caught on tape. Also, since I'd taped his eyes, he never saw who did it to him. One other thing I did was take his wallet, to confuse the picture. The cops might have thought it was a particularly vicious robbery. That way, there'd be no arrow pointing to the real motive."
`Well, I can't say I'm sorry you did it, Stan. That bastard certainly deserved what he got. I just hope he was never able to practice medicine again."
"I heard that after he recovered, which took months, he gave up his practice and started teaching at a medical school," Stan said. "How about you? You ever want to get back at the doctor who clipped you?"
"Well, I've got to tell you that the thought crossed my mind more than once, but I never did do anything. I never got the chance. You see, although I knew who it was who clipped me, before I could do anything the matter was out of my hands."
"How do you mean?" he asked
"One night this doctor went to a dance at his country club. He was a pretty heavy drinker, I'd heard, and that night he got pretty sloshed. Driving home, he ran head-on into a bus and both he and his wife got killed at the scene. That was that."
"Well, I can't say I'm very sorry to hear that, although his wife was an innocent person, I guess," Stan said.
"You're right," I said. "I know damn well his wife was innocent, and didn't deserve to die, but I don't feel a bit guilty about that. Fuck no!"
"Really?" Stan asked.
"Of course not," I replied. "Who shoved the drinks into his hand that night? Who was driving his damn car? He was! Fuck him! He did it all to himself!" The intensity of my emotional outburst would have shocked Stan if he hadn't been of like mind.
"I hope you went and pissed on his grave," Stan said.
"Oh, no, that would have been only a symbolic gesture. It wouldn't have accomplished anything. It wouldn't even have made me feel better," I said.
"Oh, well, at least that's two circumcisers out of the picture," Stan reflected.
"Maybe more than two," I said. "I've heard rumors of this sort of thing happening before. We're not the only two guys in this country who were circumcised without our consent. I'm sure we're not the only two who were pissed off about it."
"I've never heard of it happening, but it wouldn't surprise me, the way you put it," Stan told me.
"I don't have anything definite," I said, "but one of these days I'll do an Internet search to find out if any doctors have been killed under mysterious circumstances. I've already done a search using the word circumcision' and the phrase doctor killed' but turned up nothing." As we'd finished eating, Stan got up to remove the plates from the table, and I saw that his heavy-ended prick was swinging in a very attractive way. As he put the plates into the sink, I moved beside him and grasped the end of his nippled foreskin. He turned and grasped mine, and for a moment we looked into each others' eyes as our pricks began engorging rapidly.
Wordlessly he led me into the bedroom and sat me down on the bed. He began massaging my foreskin up and down in long strokes, building my excitement rapidly. I pumped his prick for a few long strokes to reciprocate, until something occurred to me.
"Ever come inside your foreskin?" I asked.
"Sure, I do it all the time," he replied.
"No, I mean when you pinch the end shut and the cream stays trapped and spreads all around your head," I explained. "It's like when I pee in the shower and I pinch the end shut and watch my foreskin balloon."
"I've done that in the shower," he answered. "I've seen other uncut guys do it, but I never did that while whacking off."
"Okay, suppose you let me do it to you. It just might be a new sensation for you." As I spoke I pulled his foreskin all the way forward to encapsulate his glans and began working my thumb over the ridge through the foreskin while my index finger pressed into the triangular groove under the head.
"Ooooohhhh, that feels good," he murmured.
"Just relax. You can hold on to my prick if you want, but don't try to make me come yet. I want to concentrate on making you come first." Stan continued to hold my prick but stopped stroking it.
"Okay, Jack. I know I'll make you come after you finish me off." I applied more pressure with my thumb as I swept it across his corona, feeling the rim harden through the skin.
"Your balls are drawing up," I commented.
"This is really turning me on," he said as he lay down on the bed.
"That's the idea, Stan. I want to feel your prick throb when you let go. Just concentrate on your sensations now and let me bring you to orgasm."
"Man, it's really building up," he murmured. "The way you're stroking the rim..."
"That's it, Stan, just let it happen. Your balls are tight now, and I can feel how hard the head is under your foreskin."
"Oh, yeah," he whispered. "You're really doing it to me." I knew he was getting close because I saw his stomach muscles tighten and his face flush.
"Now I'm going to pinch the end of your foreskin with my left thumb and finger," I explained. "You're already dribbling a little lube out of it, and I want to catch the explosion inside it when you start to cream. That way you'll feel the hot juice all around the head."
"Oh, yeah, do me..." Stan trailed off in an almost agonized voice. I applied more pressure stroking his corona and stroked it more quickly. I knew he was primed for release, and needed it badly. Now Stan began to grunt with each stroke, and I saw his legs begin to tremble. His entire body tightened up with excitement.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" he grunted explosively as I felt the first powerful throb in his prick. His rigid prick throbbed again and now I saw his foreskin begin to distend with the volume of liquid filling it. I felt another throb between my fingers as his hood ballooned out, and I knew that the hot cream was running around the bulging glans inside.
Stan continued to grunt, lost in the sensations of his orgasm, as his throbbing prick pumped out more juice and his foreskin ballooned to an almost impossible size. I kept working on his swollen tip through the skin, confident that the thick cream masked the sensations and prevented over-stimulation. Stan had raised his head to watch his throbbing prick and distended foreskin, his jaw open and his eyes glazed.
Stan's throbs weakened, and the intensity of his grunts softened as his orgasm worked itself out. Now he was merely gasping, and I felt the last residual throbs in his glans as his orgasm expired and his body began to relax. I held the tip of his foreskin pinched tightly to prevent leakage and waited for him to return to full consciousness.
About a minute later he propped himself up on his elbows and I reached for some Kleenexes. Once I had the wad of tissues under his prick I relaxed the pressure on his foreskin orifice. We both smelled the characteristic chlorine odor as we watched the thick cream ooze from the fleshy pucker as his foreskin shrunk from its ballooned shape.
"That was so hot," he said. "All that hot cream around the head, and your fingers working on my rim..." He trailed off. I knew precisely how it felt because I'd done it to myself and had it done to me as well.
Now I squeezed his prick to milk the last drops from under his foreskin and from his urethra, pressing a finger along the underside of his shaft to force the residue forward. Stan sighed in delight as I milked his prick, and when I had dabbed every drop from the pucker at the end of his foreskin he sat up looking at me.
"Thanks, buddy," he said. "Now it's your turn. Lie down the way I did and I'll give you the ride of your life." I followed his instruction and lay on my back as Stan again grasped the thick fleshy pucker of my foreskin, which even with an erection projected beyond the end of my glans. Using the thumb and forefinger of his other hand he began massaging my corona through the skin, while the index finger probed the underside of my helmet.
"That feels good," I said, as my prick responded to his touch by getting even harder.
"Man, you've got a really high flaring rim," he commented. "Even though your skin's thicker than mine, I can really feel it." He punctuated his comment by a few rapid flicks over my corona, snapping the skin over the many nerve endings to produce a responsive throb deep in the root of my prick.
"I felt your dick jerk just now," he continued. "Your helmet also feels harder through the skin."
"I've been hard longer than you have," I said. "I was hard while doing you, and watching and feeling your come got me really excited." Stan paused in his thumb flicking and gave my helmet several fast squeezes through my long thick foreskin, again producing throbs deep inside me.
"I want to make you shoot inside your skin," he said. "I'm going to keep the end pinched tight so none of your juice escapes. I want to see if your skin balloons out like mine."
"I know it does," I replied. "I've done that pissing in the shower."
"When you did it to me just now, the juice stretching my skin also stretched the nerve endings inside it. That was a real thrill," he said.
"I know it was," I told him. "I knew you'd really enjoy that." Stan's relentless flicking over my rim was producing a tickle, which gradually spread all over my glans. I began breathing heavily from the excitement and the anticipation.
"I know this is getting to you," he said. "Your breathing's changed, and I can see your stomach muscles getting tighter."
"Any second now," I muttered. "You're really getting me near the edge." Now I felt the tickling in my helmet turning into a hot tingle, and I knew that I was poised on the brink. My breathing was labored now, and my entire body tensed involuntarily although I was trying to remain relaxed to prolong the delicious feeling of anticipation. My swollen helmet ached for relief.
"Just a second more..." Stan coached me, as I felt the surge of excitement swell to its crescendo and I began grunting hard.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" I bellowed as the volcano erupted deep inside me, sending its liquid lava burning up my tube. I felt the hot liquid spreading over the front dome of my helmet and this triggered another hot spasm that left me gasping as the second torrent poured out of my gaping orifice and all around my glans.
I cried out in agonized ecstasy as the third gush erupted from my helmet, trapped and swirling all around my glans, filling the groove behind my corona and making my foreskin distend. My eyes were closed, so I didn't see my foreskin ballooning, but I felt the delicious stretching sensation, especially in the neck of my prick right behind the rim.
Another explosion wracked my insides and I felt the pulse in my urethra as the hot liquid forced its way forward. I cried out again as I tumbled in the free-fall of my orgasm, feeling the liquid fire engulf my straining, swollen glans. I felt a somewhat weaker throb, and then another, exhausting me as I drained my tanks. Stan was still massaging my corona but the distended hood prevented much friction from getting through, and I felt no distress.
Now I was feeling the final weak spasms as I pumped the residue up my penis to ooze from my gaping orifice. I was helpless, drained, satiated, and content as I slipped into the delicious daze that followed. It took me a couple of minutes to recover and then I opened my eyes and propped myself on one elbow.
"Now watch how much cream you shot," Stan was saying as he held a large wad of tissue under the end of my prick. His fingers released the pressure on the end of my foreskin and I saw a gush of my thick cream pour onto the tissues. The heavy odor of chlorine filled the air as the viscous liquid soaked in and spread in a large wet spot. Now Stan was squeezing my helmet and foreskin to extract more semen, and dabbing at the thick pucker of my foreskin.
"I'll get the rest out of your dick," he said as he ran a finger up the long bulge on the underside of my shaft, squeezing the last drops from my prick. He dabbed at the pucker and finished by leaning down and kissing it.
"Stay here with me tonight," he urged as he lay down beside me. "We both have to work tomorrow but we can get up early so that you can get over to your place to change." I thought this was a fabulous idea, and I hugged him tightly to me before we fell asleep.
The end