Lubricant Sex

One of the most pleasant experiences I had with lubricant occurred after I bought a bottle of a new brand of silicon oil at an adult store. I was browsing through the items on the wall, and these included dildoes, vibrators, and other sex toys. One of the clerks, a chunky guy with a mustache about 28 years old, approached and asked if he could help me find something. I replied that I was looking for lubricant, and he told me he had several brands in the showcase near the cash register. He recommended one particular brand, which he said was better than most others.

"Was that your experience?" I asked. He hesitated, then said he did use it often because he'd found it more satisfying than other brands he'd tried. It took very few drops to do the job because it was extra-slippery. He added that it wasn't messy, because it was easier to clean up than many other brands.

"I guess you mean for beating off," I suggested. He replied that that was what he used it for.

"It doesn't dry out and isn't irritating," he explained. I told him that I had a different use for it, lubricating my foreskin. His eyes widened slightly, and I explained; "Well, I like the feel of my wet cock-head sloshing around inside my foreskin, and normally I don't secrete enough natural lube to make it wet the way I like it." "You're uncut?" he asked. When I nodded, he continued:

FREE STORY 

Quick Blowjob in the Gym Showers

Free JoinPricing or learn more

"Gee, I wish I was uncut." That clearly explained his need for lubricant while masturbating. Most cut guys use lubrication, even if they have enough slack shaft skin to pull over the head or rim, because it's less irritating than dry friction. Several have told me that it's far more satisfying, as well. I took the bold step of asking:

"Are you going to use some tonight?" Surprised, he nodded "yes." I went on; "Well, if you don't mind, we might get together and show each other how we do it." He seemed to like the idea, and gave me his address, asking me to show up at seven, after he'd had a chance to eat and shower. He told me that he hadn't had an orgasm for a week, and I replied that by coincidence, I'd gone six days without release. It was only then that we introduced ourselves. I told him my name is "Jack," and he said he was "Bob." I paid him for a bottle of silicon oil and left. I was there five minutes after seven, and when he opened the door I saw he was wearing just a bathing suit. He noticed my glance, because he said:

"Hot night. I like to keep cool." The air conditioner was going, bleeding the heat from his apartment into the warm night air. We were both about six feet, but Bob was heavier than I, with a roll of fat around his middle. I didn't mind, as he didn't seem really out of shape. Bob was brown-haired, as I am, but I had no mustache. Bob motioned me into the bedroom, where there was a queen-size, and a small stack of towels. Pointing to them, he said:

"To avoid getting the bed wet." He smiled and slowly pushed down his bathing suit. I quickly stripped off my shirt, but by the time I was dropping my pants and shorts, he was totally naked, his half-hard cock stretching down in an arc in front of his pubes. Bob was a "shower," with a large prick that didn't expand much with erection, but merely stiffened. I'm a "grower," with a small three-inch penis that doubles in size when it gets hard. I finished stripping and let him see my equipment, which he found even more interesting than I found his. Spreading a couple of towels on the bed, he motioned me to sit facing him, and he put his spread legs over mine, inching forward so that our cocks were within easy reach. I gently pinched his large, plum-shaped glans, and his cock began to rise. I slid the other hand up his thigh so that my fingers touched his groin, where I could feel the throbs in his cock-root when I pinched his tip. As his cock swelled, I noted that it was about the same size as mine, a little over six inches, with a shapely purple head that sported a high, curving ridge. The skin just behind the head was pink until the brown circumcision scar about an inch back from his rim. I decided his cock was definitely handsome, especially when I saw the lips of his piss-slit pout to form a neat oval, unlike some slits I'd seen on other guys that merely gaped loosely.

"You've got a nice head on your dick," I commented.

"That flaring rim looks nice." Meanwhile, Bob had grasped my foreskin tip and was rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

"I like foreskins," he whispered as he played with mine.

"I like the way they work, and the way they let you stroke the head. I guess they didn't cut babies as often when you were born," he added, his way of acknowledging that I was about 20 years older than he. My prick was swelling in response, and Bob got an eyeful, as I'd had of his. I have a big head, shaped like a Darth Vader helmet, fully covered by a long, funnel-shaped foreskin that extends about an inch beyond the tip when I'm soft. Right now, my foreskin was sliding easily over the tender tissues underneath because I'd squirted in a generous dose of lube before coming. Bob was clearly curious about exactly what was under my long, thick hood, especially since he could see its outlines bulging through my foreskin. Now that my cock was full-hard, he slipped my hood back to expose the wet, slippery head. He tugged harder, bringing my high, curved ridge into view as he slid the foreskin all the way back to form a thick collar behind the glans.

"You've got a nice cock-head," he exclaimed, as he slowly pulled the protective hood forward again.

"I like the way your slit looks like a tear-drop," he added, as his fingers closed around my sleeve and began a pleasant back-and-forth motion. As he'd been speaking I'd been caressing his cock, adding silicon oil from the bottle he kept by the bed, and now I was massaging his shaft and glans in a long, rhythmic stroke. I liked the feel of his hot meat under my fingers, and ran them over the ridge and the broad upper surface of his cock-head. I saw a drop of clear liquid appear in the oval at the end of his glans, and I gave his cock a twist as I stroked it. I knew from other cut guys that they enjoyed this twisting motion a lot, and i wanted to give Bob some intense sensations. Uncut guys like the twisting stroke too, and when Bob took a firm grip on my hood and twisted it as he stroked it back, I had to catch my breath. When he twisted the other way on the forward stroke, I gasped.

"Better slow down," I said.

"Let's get you done first, then you can do me." He nodded and I felt his grip on my cock loosen slightly as he slowed his stroking. I gave his beautiful cock-head another twist as I stroked it, working my way back to the sensitive tissue behind the head. Then I pressed a finger into the deep groove under the head, caressing the strip of skin I found there, because I knew that this was as sensitive as his ridge. Now I pumped his cock several times, fast strokes that made his eyes open wide as the sensations hit him. Slowly, he slid back on the bed until he was flat, giving me even better access to his groin as I adjusted my position. His hand was still on my cock, and I knew that feeling my thick-foreskinnned cock was a turn-on for him.

"Are you a dribbler or a blaster?" he asked as he gave my cock another slow pump.

"Oh, I really shoot my load,' I replied.

"You'll see." "Good. I like to see the load really shoot. I'm that way too. When I come, I shoot big jets," he said.

"I only dribble when I'm tired." Now I clamped my other hand around the base of his cock to stop the return flow of blood. I know that men's cocks normally swell even more just before they come. Mine does, and so did the cocks of practically all the guys I'd given hand jobs to, and Bob's cock was no exception. I just wanted to help him along. I watched his glans get darker purple, and felt it grow even harder in my hand. His ridge really stood out now, and clear lube was pouring from his hole, mixing with the oil. Bob's eyes were closed, and I saw his legs begin to tremble. His stomach muscles tightened, and I felt a throb underneath my encircling fingers about half a second before the first load of white disgorged through his oval hole.

"Hahhhh," he went, as the full shock of orgasm hit him, and I twisted my fist on his throbbing glans to bring on another spasm. Bob shuddered as his cock jerked in my hand, another thick jet of white cream surging from his tip. I felt his fist tighten on my prick, but I was nowhere near climax. Bob yelped again as yet another stream of thick juice erupted to pool on his stomach. The first jets had shot forcefully from his dick, but now they just spurted. As his cock continued to throb in my hand, the pulses grew weaker and eventually stopped. A thin drool of white ran from his tip down onto his stomach, and I felt his hand release my prick. The hammering effect of orgasm on his nervous system had plunged him into a daze, and he was very still for a couple of minutes. I wondered if he's simply go to sleep as some guys do after coming, leaving me to fend for myself. However, his eyes opened, he smiled at me, and said:

"Your turn." I lay back as Bob crouched over me, grasping my prick and pumping the slippery hood up and down over the hot hard glans. He began using long strokes, skinning it back all the way to bare the head, then pulling the fleshy sleeve all the way forward to engulf my blunt tip. Lubricant ran over his fingers, and he tightened his fist to retain his grip. I felt a tickle begin in my swollen ridge, brought on by the slap of skin on skin as he furiously pumped my prick. My entire glans became tingly, and I felt my shaft ache as my prick went into its final swelling.

"Your tip ain't spongy anymore," Bob observed as he continued to pour sensations into my eager prick. I tried to relax to prolong the build-up, but the sensations were too much, forcing me over the edge. The tingle felt like an urge to pee, but nothing came. Instead, my cock felt like it was swelling even more, and a sudden flash of sensation shot through me as my cock-root began pumping out its hot jets. My eyes were closed, and I heard nothing. My entire world was in my cock, throbbing hard, as jet after jet of burning hot juice burned its way up my tube. It felt as if every drop of liquid in my body was forcing its way out through my swollen prick-head, each spasm sending me deeper into the free-fall of orgasm. More jets shot from my dick to land on my stomach, and after an eternity it was over. I opened my eyes to look into the gaze of this man who had given me such wonderful sensations, and saw him smiling down at me.

"I'd like to dock with you next time," he said. He wanted to insert his glans inside my foreskin to feel what it was like to have a hood on it. I couldn't blame him. I wanted him to, and wanted him to feel the hot sensations of real, live foreskin stroking his cock-head, wanted to feel his glans swell inside my hood, and feel the hot jets as he filled my hood with his come.

"Sure," I said.

"We'll dock next time. You'll love it."

Become a Patreon to support Taletopia!