When I was in college in Scotland, I had a good friend called Bill who had a fantastic-looking cock. He was uncut, as indeed I am. I knew this from seeing him in the showers after athletics training. I love seeing a large uncircumcised penis in its flaccid state, with a good foreskin, looking for all the world like a large pork sausage. It's fascinating to imagine how it will behave when it's aroused.
I never did anything sexual with Bill, but sometimes in the evening I'd go home and take a banana, half peal it and lodge the half pealed part in a slightly-opened drawer so that the pealed part stuck out at about the same height above the ground as my friend's crotch. I'd read an article in a magazine giving instructions to women on how to suck their partner's penis, and I used those instructions to suck the banana as though I were sucking Bill. It wasn't much fun though, and I never did dare to apply to my friend for permission to suck the real thing. We were both thoroughly heterosexual at the time and I, at least, certainly, still am. I'd imagine Bill is too although I've lost touch with him.
Last night I began to imagine what it would have been like to have had a sex session with Bill. He'd be dressed in sexy blue Levis. I'd fondle his boyish face, run my hand through his blond hair and gaze into his blue eyes, celebrating our friendship that had been built up over a year or two. He'd do the same. Then a French kissing session would start, followed by an increasingly frantic exploration of each other's torsos, fumbling with shirt buttons, hands and mouths working their way across bare flesh, knowing that there was a delicious dessert to follow when we got below the waist.
Being aware of the fact that it's good to wait and to build passion, we spend some time sucking each other's nipples and rubbing our hands over each other's backs before a mutual ass-fondling session followed. How I love a tight sexy jean-clad ass on a guy or or a girl (though that latter fact is beyond the scope of this story archive). It's not these designer jeans that I like but a good old fashioned pair of Levis or Lees.
Eventually I unbuckle Bill's leather belt and slowly pull down the zipper. I open the flap to reveal tight white briefs covering his treasure. I nuzzle my face into the fabric; I nearly faint from the aroma and I am in heaven now; a fantastic man smell, absorbed into the fabric, hits my nostrils. Bill is pre-cuming like mad and I smear the nectar on my face taking in its smell. It's said that the sense of smell is the most sensitive of all our senses, and I intend to make full use of it.
My own cock is straining now and Bill invites me to stand to undo it from its confines. His supreme pleasure is evident in his breathing and in the further expansion of that sexy cock of his. We interrupt our mutual ministrations to get our shoes off and free our jeans from our ankles, laughing as we stumble about. This sex session is bringing to us us such joy.
Bill wants to see my cock and pulls my briefs down. He gasps but doesn't touch it. He desperatately wants my face to apply itself once more to his brief-clad bulge and to see me cum with the pleasure of so-doing. I mash my face into his briefs for a minute or two while feeling his gorgeous ass with both hands.
I need him inside me now, and yank down his briefs. His cock disappears into my mouth. All the techniques I've read about in magazines are employed now until blast after blast of come is emptied into me. At exactly the same time my own cock erupts. We stand up and squeeze our bodies together. They're covered with my cum. I kiss Bill again and we share hiscome. Bill and I become even better friends than ever before; a fantastic sex session can really bond two people together. Many more sex sessions followed; in fact the next one was the same as the one I've described here with roles reversed.
I've just realised that the tense of this piece as changed from one of fantasy to one of fact. Sorry about that. None of it was fact, but I wish it was. Maybe it could have been!
If you liked this story and perhaps even got off on it, I'd love to hear from you.
John Wexford clashmore@hotmail.com