Another Circle Jerk

Long ago I used to have a few buddies with whom I enjoyed circle jerks. The term "circle jerk" was a misnomer because we didn't sit around in a circle, but more in a row. We usually held our sessions at my friend Marty's apartment, where he'd lined up a row of chairs on one side of his queen size bed.

All of us had a few things in common: We were in our middle twenties, we all had average sized dicks, about six inches, and we were all single. Most of all, we really enjoyed masturbation, getting vicarious pleasure from watching other guys bring themselves to climax by hand. We'd always jack ourselves to orgasm separately, avoiding coming at the same moment. That way, we could enjoy the show we put on for each other.

We had some differences, as well, because our pricks came in different types and proportions. This meant that we had different styles of stroking, based partly on anatomy and partly on preference. Al was the only one without a foreskin, and he used lots of baby oil to lube his prick as he stroked, using long full strokes with a twisting motion around his large leathery mushroom head.

He'd also work the area between the ridge and the thick scar on his shaft. Marty also used lots of baby oil, because his hood pulled back all the way when he got hard, too tightly to allow stroking it up over his big purple helmet. I also used baby oil, because despite my long thick foreskin, I secreted very little pre-cum, and needed lots of lube to allow my foreskin to slide easily during long strokes. We disrobed and began stroking, and gradually the odor of hot foreskins filled the room, giving us all a turn-on.

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Al was always fascinated by foreskin action, watching us avidly as we slid our hoods over our pricks. Mike always came first, because his prick-head was very sensitive. Limp, he'd be able to pull his hood back over the small soft head for washing, but when hard the swollen glans was too big to slide through the tight ring of foreskin. Mike really enjoyed his sessions, using long forward strokes of his ample foreskin, and because he had very low-hanging balls, they'd bob violently when he got near the end and was stroking hard. One of us would always cup his balls to avoid their moving too much and causing him discomfort.

This time, he lay back on the bed because he liked to come lying down, and Sam held a wad of paper towels below the end of his dick to catch the cream. We watched his lips draw back and his eyes close as he approached his explosion. His hips lifted off the bed as he groaned in ecstasy, and we watched the white stream pour out of the pucker at the end of his hood. His fist flew over his prick as he blew his wad, and the rest of us watched, entranced and stroked our pricks slowly to avoid coming. Frank was able to skin his prick back part-way to uncover the end of his long slender glans, which was deep pink.

As Mike got up from the bed, Frank took his place, his scrotum tight against his body. We saw the tip of his fiery glans darken as his excitement mounted, becoming deep red as he fisted his hood slowly over the sensitive knob. Frank always used a slow stroke, trying to make the build-up last, especially during the final stages. We watched Franks' eyes close, although he kept his face and body relaxed as his excitement leaked. Mike sat at his side, a wad of paper towels ready. When Frank howled in orgasm Mike caught the long white jets that erupted from his prick. Frank's body stiffened, and his fist flew over his shaft, driving the thick hood up and down the glans to bring forth more jets. Mike pressed the paper towels against Frank's tip as the juice flowed, and the rough contact against the tender, sensitive head made him shudder. Sam wanted to be next to come, and he reclined on the bed.

His prick was slender, with a graceful upward curve along which he slid his hood to cover and uncover the narrow but shapely head. He stroked with his skin mostly forward, while Frank waited with paper towels. We watched his balls tighten against him as pre-cum dribbled down his fingers, overflowing from his prick. He reclined as he got hotter, and when he exploded he was flat on his back, rigid as a board, yanking the hood down all the way to shoot his jets toward his face. Frank held the paper towels under the purple glans to catch the cream as Sam's cries of joy filled the room. Jerry was next, preferring to sit on the edge of the bed for the finish. He had a long, thick hood that skinned back fully, baring his long, bell-shaped glans. The pink cock-head had a flare all the way round, and the ridge didn't sweep forward as mine does, but dropped right down to meet under the prick, forming a bell. Jerry also used long strokes, because he enjoyed the movement of the hood over his bell and shaft. Like Mike, his balls didn't retract fully, so this time I cupped his scrotum with my left hand while slowly stroking my long hood with my right. We saw the end of his glans turn red as the skin momentarily drew back. Mike held another wad of paper towels ready, and when Jerry convulsed he caught the flying jets. Jerry threw his head back and cried out in wild, agonized ecstasy as his prick erupted, and I felt his scrotum throb in my fingers as he shot into the paper. Shooting, he uncovered the head all the way at the bottom of each stroke. Mike pressed the wad of rough paper against the big red head to give Jerry extra sensations, meanwhile watching it soak with thick come.

Now it was Marty's turn, and he lay back fully while fisting his heavily lubed prick, running his fingers over his big mushroom and the sensitive nerve endings of his inverted foreskin. His fingers ran into the groove behind the ridge, sending hot sparks of sensation stabbing into his prick, and we watched his cock-head turn darker purple. He held his prick almost parallel to his stomach as the hot storm overtook him, and shot his load into the paper towels Frank had laid there. Marty gasped and grunted as jet after jet flew from his hot prick, until he was spent. "Your turn, Jack," he said as he got up. I took his place, but sat against the headboard because I enjoyed watching. The others clustered round me, eager to watch the show.

"Skin it back for us, Jack," suggested Marty as he grabbed a large wad of paper towels. Jerry's fingers cupped my balls, not because they flop around, but because he knows I enjoy the feeling. All eyes were on my prick as I prepared for release by drawing my hood all the way back from the big shiny purple helmet. Although I have enough skin to cover the head completely even during orgasm, I enjoy skinning back, stretching the many nerve endings in my thick hood, while I lightly bump my flaring ridge with the thick ring of skin. Released from its tight covering, the cock-head expands fully, the ridge flaring out and turning dark purple.

"Look at that big tip," murmured Al as he watched me tease my prick closer to the brink with light bumps against the corona. I saw a drop of clear fluid fill my teardrop shaped hole as the heavy tingle began in my head and shaft. Jerry spread the fluid in small circles around the hole with his fingertip, giving me an extra thrill. I knew I was right there, and bumped the rim again, then pulled back hard to stretch the nerve endings.

My cock-root convulsed, and my eyes closed as the first hot blast of lava burned its way up my prick, making me howl in pure joy. Marty's hand wrapped around my big naked tip, and I felt the rough paper lightly scratching the delicate nerve endings in my hot, throbbing tip. I cried out helpless at the extra surge of sensation that was almost painful. Gush after hot gush of cock-lava tortured me, until I was drained.

When I recovered, I moved to let Al take my place. He preferred to lie down, and I gave him an extra squirt of baby oil before grabbing a handful of paper towels. His fist flew over his head and shaft, concentrating on the head because he had no foreskin. His fist twisted around the big mushroom, which darkened as Al began grunting hard. My fingers closed lightly around his balls and the base of his shaft, because I wanted to feel the pulses of his orgasm. I felt the hot pounding in his shaft as I heard him grunt louder, and knew he was hurtling over the brink.

The first thick, ropy jet shot into the paper towels, some dropping back onto his swollen glans. Most of his juice fell back onto his prick because he held his prick straight up as he came, and some trickled down into his pubic hair. I pressed the wad of paper down on his bulging tip, now slippery with thick cream, and twisted it several times to make him howl with tortured joy. Now that we'd all drained ourselves, we trooped into the bathroom for quick showers, rinsing the sweat off in warm water. We then gathered in the kitchen for our post-orgasmic beers.

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