During a weekend trip to see a good friend in another city, I went to a bath house for the first time. Stan had decided it would be a new experience for me, and as I am adventurous enough to try anything within reason once, I went along with his proposal. That Saturday evening, after dinner, we went to the bath house and checked in, leaving our clothes in a locker and wearing only the skimpy towels the staff had issued us. In this regard, we were just like all of the other 100 or so guys on the premises.
Stan enjoys the steam sauna, while I find it fogs my glasses and makes it hard to breathe. While he went into the sauna, I went into the hot tub, where we'd agreed to meet later. Putting my towel up on a hook, I stepped down into the large tub, aware that all three of its occupants were eyeballing my thick-foreskinned cock.
I took a seat and after a couple of minutes, two of the guys got up and left, leaving me alone with the third, who began sidling around the periphery towards me. He struck up a conversation as he slid sideways through the hot, swirling water, and when he was within arm's length he reached out to stroke my thigh. My cock began to stir. The contact was pleasant, but I remembered that Stan would be along any minute. Stan isn't jealous, and in fact we don't even have a solid physical relationship, but I also did not want casual sex with a stranger, as I didn't know where it might lead. "You're a nice man," the stranger said to me, as his hand traveled down to caress my butt. I replied; "Thanks for the flattery but I'm here with a friend." His face registered disappointment, and he stopped caressing my flank. After another minute, he got out of the tub. This gave me a view of what the swirling, bubbling water had concealed from me up to now, a nice, heavy-foreskinned cock remarkably like my own. Stan emerged from the sauna and joined me in the tub. When I told him what had happened, he laughed. After a few more minutes we got out, donned our street clothes, and went back to his house. There, Stan put a European video on the screen and we stripped down to enjoy it. Stan had been cut at birth, and enjoys watching and handling foreskin. His eyes rested on mine for a moment, and I followed his gaze to see how my bulging cock-head outline was clearly visible through the protective cover. His fingers closed around my cock, which began to swell. I put some baby oil on my hand and clasped Stan's prick, which despite the amputation was longer than mine. Stan had seven inches, and mine measures only six, although it's thicker and the head is much larger. I began stroking his quickly stiffening cock up and down, making sure my finger hit the sensitive bump on the underside of his cock just behind the head. Stan had told me this was the most sensitive spot on his penis, and I wanted to make his prick feel as good as he was making mine. We'd jacked each other while watching videos during previous visits, and we settled down to enjoy the show and the long, slow, build-up to release. Tacitly, we'd decided against trying for simultaneous orgasms, because overall, we enjoyed sequential climaxes more. True, we gave up sharing the magic moment, but we gained a lot in other ways, and we were about to experience these again. Stan's glans swelled, and a drop of clear fluid filled the oval-shaped slot in the front of his tip. Stan had pulled my foreskin back all the way to lodge behind my high, flaring rim, and as we approached the end my tip swelled and became a darker shade of purple. A drop of prick-honey dribbled out of my tear-drop shaped orifice, running down the glans onto his clasping, encircling fingers. After an hour, we were ready for release, having watched many of the performers on the screen shooting their loads with wild abandon. We decided Stan would go first, and I began rotating my fist on his reddened glans with each stroke. His prick felt hot and hard in my hand, and I saw him close his eyes as the moment neared. More lubricant dribbled from his tip, mixing with the baby oil, as my fist pleasured his prick. I increased my pace, watching Stan throw his head back as his hand fell from my prick. The advantage of making each other come separately is that each can throw himself totally into what he's doing, as I was concentrating on giving Stan pleasure without the distraction of my own orgasm. Stan, in turn, was free to concentrate on his own sensations, which were rapidly bringing him to the edge. I slowed my strokes slightly, wanting to make the last few seconds of build-up last, because I knew from my own experience how delicious the last few seconds of anticipation could be. His tip reddened even more as it went into its final swelling, and then I felt the first pulse through my encircling fingers. His cock throbbed in my hand as the first jet shot from the tip, falling back onto my fingers. His prick felt so hot in my hand that his juice felt cool by comparison. Stan's eyes were screwed tightly shut, his lips drawn back in orgastic rictus, as the waves of sensation wracked his body. His prick throbbed again, and he groaned in pure pleasure as another white jet shot from his tip. His knees drew up as his legs spasmed, and I knew that waves of overwhelming sensation had erased his awareness of the world outside his body. I wrapped my free arm around him, pulling him to me, feeling his body straining against mine as waves of orgasm went through him. I was enjoying his climax, both because I liked making his hot swollen prick feel good, but because I could experience it vicariously. I knew what he was feeling, and also knew that he'd be sending me into rapture within minutes. Hugging him, I felt every spasm, and my prick pressed against his flank as I stroked his. Stan's spasms were weakening as his orgasm faded, and I knew his prick got super-sensitive at the end. Nevertheless, I gave him a few more powerful strokes, even though he groaned loudly, because I wanted to milk every last drop from his engorged prick. He writhed in joyful agony, and then I stopped. letting him come down off the wave of feeling. He looked at me and said: "You didn't stop, you bastard," with a grin. "No..." I replied. Stan took a paper towel and dabbed the cum juice from his prick and stomach, and I wiped my hands free from the sticky fluid. Now it was my turn. Stan grasped my prick, which had softened only slightly from the brief neglect. He pulled the foreskin back completely to lodge behind the flaring rim, allowing my glans to swell to full size. He stroked my foreskin back and forth, slowly, and I relaxed, enjoying the build-up, knowing that within a minute or two I'd be in the same state of mindless, blissful free- fall Stan had just enjoyed. I watched my glans swell and turn even darker purple, with the rim's back face almost black as it engorged with excitement. A steady ooze of fluid from my tear-drop flowed down to lubricate my cock-head and Stan's encircling fingers, which brushed slowly over the swollen rim. I was getting close, and my legs began to twitch as my breathing became more labored. My awareness of the world faded as the hot sensations in my cock overwhelmed my consciousness. There was a tickling sensation in my tip where Stan's fingers caressed it, and I felt a sensation of swelling. The Stan put both palms on either side of my prick and began working them rapidly back and forth, twisting my foreskin around the base of the glans. The sudden, hot sensations were turning the tickle in my tip to a hot tingle that traveled down my shaft to the root. My prick exploded, and I threw my head back, eyes screwed shut, as I groaned in mindless ecstasy. A jet of hot lava poured into the root of my prick, surging forward to erupt from the tip. My hips bucked, and I felt my cock throb again as Stan's hands rapidly worked to twist the foreskin and the head in one direction, then another. Another hot jet burned its way to the tip and erupted into the air, as I writhed in pure pleasure. I felt Stan pressing his body against mine as his fingers wrapped around my hot, swollen knob, and twisted to enhance my sensations. His fingers explored every contour, running into the groove behind the rim, probing under my foreskin, sending hot erotic messages into the tender flesh. My tip was getting super-sensitive, and I was now crying out as waves of sensation poured over me. Finally, my rapture faded into the mist, and I came back to Earth. Stan was smiling at me as he wiped the fluids from my prick and abdomen. It took several minutes to recover from the sledgehammer daze that follows orgasm. I hugged him, and we went into the kitchen to mix martinis. Sitting on the bed, sipping our drinks, and having a smoke, we silently reflected on our good luck in having been able to share such beautiful sensations that evening. The last thing I remember before slipping into a deep sleep was his saying; "You're a nice man."
The End