When I attended the Univ. of Florida, Gainesville, also shared a dorm room with three other guys, all of us straight, but equally used to open masturbation and in some cases, without guilt, embarrassment or homophobic fear, giving each other a "helping hand" from time to time. Basically, the method was for one guy to hold both his fists stationary around another's well-lubed cock and the held one, lying on the bed,his butt elevated by a pillow, would raise and lower his hips, virtually "fucking the fists" of the holder until majestic multijetting cumming occurred. We would have contests to see how quick we could come and also how long we could "fuck fists" before releasing. We all had gals and were sexually active with them, but the masturbational comradeship was an integral part of our release of sexual tension, horniness, and let's face it--our hyperactive hormonal and testosterone levels at that age.
All three roomies were groomsmen at my wedding and all three are married as well. Never has there been an occasion for same, but I'll bet if we were ever at a professional conference or some other locale where we happened to room together, we'd recapitulate those happy "helping hands" days. Some of the finest orgasms of my youth were achieved through those manly fist fucks, us "roomies" with great esprit urging each other to the best possible orgasmic cumming and cheering at each especially copious delivery of ivory jam. It's a shame that rampant homophobia and fear of homoerotic behaviour prevents healthy exploration of sex such as we experienced. A hell of a lot of fear about fucking women was overcome in those sessions and no man made another feel less virile, potent, underendowed, or in any other way less masculine that another.
We privately referred to each other as "fuck-fists brothers" and respected and supported each other in other areas of "life" unceasingly. Elders was right! I shudder to think of how the homophobic, bigoted, impotent, repressed, Xtian fundamentalist grotesques now in governmental or other political power--Helms, Thurmond, Gingrich, Armey, Gramm, Buchannen, et al, would have treated us--probably we would have been put in jail or an asylum. These freakish men have surely never had a good cum in their lives--their hate of healthy sex proves their shrivelled peters and spirits.
At a fat party in Fort Lauderdale during spring break I get a bit hot and heavy with a good friend of mine. He admits to having more feelings for me and it is the start of a great fuck buddy relationship.
Already, the room had grown close with the smell of their bodies, and the two looked at him with eyes of a color never seen in this village. The color of Canadian lakes, high in the mountains that drink the sky in their cold, cold depths. Both wear heavy boots. The air is heavy and still. Clothes a misery....
"Whatcha doing?" asked the fraternity brother while he eyed my exposed cock. I went to cover myself with the printout and kick the intruder in the head, when he retreated to the other stall. "Just polishing the ol' boy," I replied candidly, thinking the gentleman to have satisfied himself with a curious glance. "Ah. Whatcha using?" Apparently not. "Some story." He suggest he can help me out.
I had been a pretty popular kid in high school; I hung out with the cool crowd, drank a good bit of beer, smoked a little weed, and generally had a good time. I played football, but I was no dumb fuck--I made it to Alabama on a scholarship, and not the football kind, either. I guess I'm your basic preppy type--most days you'd find me in Abercrombie from head to toe.
I had been straight but curious all through college, but, aside from a j/o experience with a friend, I had never been with a guy. But this was my wild year, living on my own in the Big City, and I was determined to make the best of it. I had been to a couple of gay clubs before.
Up in the high, flat country with the golden grass in the summer. It was hot, very hot, but I had my windows open enjoying my new state. At 70 half the traffic seemed to be passing me. I was heading to my sister's house for the weekend, and in no particular rush since I was three hours early.
My imagination develops the plot while I slowly and lovingly stroke my cock, bringing it gradually to the brink. One afternoon I stripped naked, grabbed some paper towels, and lay back to enjoy another fantasy about mutual jacking. In this one, I was in the hospital for prostate surgery. In real life, I have a slightly swollen prostate as do many 60 year old men, but do not need surgery.
When I get bored I usually masturbate for something to do. I went upstairs to the bathroom as usual and got myself ready. I began to masturbate slowly, backwards and forwards. I was the same a usual and that's what made me think. "I need something new for pleasure. I quickly ran downstairs and into the shed. I grabbed a pair of gloves and stuffed them into my pocket. I nearly hit the roof.
The slightest touch, such as partly skinning back my foreskin when I pee, provokes intense and delicious feelings. Sometimes I even develop a pleasant mild itch in the corona, to remind me that I need relief.
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