Shower Power

I love taking showers, because they're erotic if you know what to do. I always skin back when I get into the shower, pulling my long, pendulous foreskin all the way back until the tight ring of skin lodges behind the high flaring rim of my big helmet. This lets me feel the hot water sluicing down over the big, tender head, and rinses away any piss residue. It's both clean and erotic, and by the time I'm finished, my cock-head is shiny and swollen to double its normal limp size.

Limp, my cock-head is about an inch long, and I have two inches of foreskin. Full-hard, my glans measures 1 7/8" long and almost that in width. Maybe it's because of the hot water, or maybe because of the tourniquet effect of the tight foreskin wrapped behind the rim, but I always find the big rim flared out even more than when my cock is flaccid and the head snugly wrapped inside its thick, fleshy hood.

Sometimes I go for it right in the shower, standing back so that the needle jets beat down on my sensitive purple glans, enjoying the powerful tickling feeling, until it become irresistible and I pour my cream into the water. I usually dribble, but sometimes the effect is so shattering that my cock pumps hard jets from its big swollen tip. In any event, using the shower as an impromptu vibrator is both erotic and convenient, because the water washes the cream down the drain and any that dribbled onto me is easy to wash off.

This time, however, I wanted to take my time, and I knew that the shower would pull the orgasm from me in only a minute or two. I stepped out of the shower, looking at my swinging cock in the mirror as I reached for my towel. I saw that, although my cock was still limp and the shaft its usual diameter, the head pouted, the broad upper surface glistening wetly, and a drop of water was ready to fall off the big rounded end. My inverted foreskin filled the deep groove completely and formed a thick, fleshy collar around the neck of my cock. I squeezed my crotch muscles a few times, making my cock bob up and down with each contraction.

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It looked as if only my cock-head had an erection, because the shaft was still limp. The head, though, was turgid and when I lifted it I saw in the mirror that my piss slit was no linger just a slit, but that the lips had parted in the shape of a teardrop, just like when I get an erection. There was no lubricant seeping from my orifice, although I was becoming excited. I grasped my thick ring of foreskin and pulled forward, drawing it over the engorged rim and down my glans, until it stretched out beyond where the cock-head ended. Normally, my foreskin forms a nipple in front of the head, and even with full erection there's enough skin to cover it completely. Now, I was stretching it, pulling on the sensitive nerve endings, and arousing it to full erection.

My cock began to respond and I felt the shaft swelling in my hand as water dripped from my body. I'd let the towel drop to the floor in my fascination with the workings of my favorite toy, then sat down on the toilet lid. I pulled back my foreskin again, baring the tender swollen head. I think the most beautiful part of the cock is the head, with its compound curves and pink or purple coloring. I normally keep my hood forward when I'm not using it, to protect the tender and sensitive glans, and think it looks just as nice that way, as well. To me, the bulge of the glans in the long hood is a hint and promise of the inner beauty.

I peeled it back completely again, observing the coloring of my hot glans. It was dark purple at the prominent rim, especially the back-face, vignetting to lighter purple forward, and a rose- pink shade around the hole. Now a drop of lubricant filled the orifice, and when I swept the hood forward it spread the juice over the tip. I pulled the skin back and ran a finger in small circles around the hole, spreading the slippery lubricant over the sensitive surface. I truly enjoyed that sensation, and continued until the lube dried up.

I put a few drops of non-drying lube on my cock-head because I knew that the heat of my cock would evaporate my lube quickly, and dry friction doesn't do as much for me as wet friction. Spreading it with my finger, I enjoyed the tickling sensation as I worked over the broad upper surface, dropped to the gee-string underneath, and finally traced the rim all the way round. I decided to change hands for variety.

Now I grasped my shaft with my right hand and closed my eyes as I worked the tip of my left index finger slowly around my hot swollen glans, imagining that it was another man's finger. That always gave me an extra measure of stimulation, because feeling another guy's hand on my cock was always supremely arousing for me. I've had many satisfying mutual masturbation sessions with other guys, who were experienced enough to know how to handle a cock other than their own. There are differences in anatomy, pleasure patterns, and preferences, and a guy who understands this can provide a super hand job.

I had a mental image of Emil, whom I'd met in Denver, and I imagined him working his finger around my naked glans. I'd had more than one encounter with him, and on one occasion we'd gotten each other super-excited with fingertip stimulation that we'd both shot ribbons of hot cream during orgasm. Emil's cock was uncut, like mine, and we'd made full use of our foreskins, slapping them back and forth before we'd reached the twilight aura just before climax. The odor of natural man-cock filled the room, adding to our excitement.

Then we'd slowed down, trying to keep our excitement at a high pitch, making it last, enjoying the delicious anticipation, before letting ourselves go. I'd made Emil shoot first, relentlessly working his hot swollen tip with one finger until he dissolved into orgasm. His cock-head darkened and swelled until I felt his shaft throb in my hand. I saw his face in my imagination, jaw down, panting in pure joy, "HAH-HAH-HAH" until the abyss of climax overtook him and he threw his head back as his cock spat its cargo of juice.

When he'd finished, he fingered my hot glans until I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the thrill of orgasm, feeling the hot jets rushing up my cock to shoot from my gaping orifice as I cried out in ecstasy. Now I was fingering my own hot tip, feeling it losing its sponginess, and I stopped.

I can't really "edge," as some people can, waiting on the brink of orgasm for minutes or hours, but have to let myself come down off the brink. I waited until my pulse had slowed, and my cock softened slightly, before I resumed. Now I was safe, and I decided to get onto my bed, flat on my back and with a towel on my stomach to catch the inevitable explosion.

I resumed fingering my well lubricated tip, feeling it harden under my touch, anticipating the rush of sensations that would soon overwhelm me. My head propped up on pillows, I watched my cock as I worked my finger around the swollen head. Another drop of lubricant emerged, and I picked it up with my finger and brought it to my mouth. The slippery feel and salty taste further excited me, and I was a step closer to exploding. My shaft was fully swollen, and become triangular instead of round. The upper surface was flat, but underneath there was the long bulge of the urethra, my piss tube, swelling as it does when I'm aroused. My foreskin formed a thick fleshy collar right behind the swollen purple head, connected by the gee-string that ran into the triangular groove under the head.

I closed my eyes again, remembering another instance in which a partner had made me come with the finger technique. He'd used several fingers, running them around my tip, until I was quivering with arousal, my legs twitching and my stomach muscles contracting. I was leaking lube copiously and his finger spread it around the head, making me gasp "HUNH-HUNH-HUNH" because the sensations were son intense. I tried to remain relaxed, to prolong it as much as possible, but eventually I gave way and show ten-inch jets onto my stomach, wetting my pubic hairs as I writhed in ecstasy.

I knew I was close, and didn't bother to open my eyes again. I was right on the brink, and carefully slowed my touch to prolong the anticipation. I felt the aura of the pre-orgasmic state as the outside world faded, and I was aware only of the delicious sensations on my cock. I felt my glans harden as I ran my finger around it slowly, and I knew I hadn't far to go. My entire world was in my cock, and I felt a tickle in my cock-root as another surge of lube forced its way up my cock.

Close to the abyss, I imagined that it was another man's finger expertly running all over my cock-head, stimulating different areas to avoid tiring out the nerve endings in any particular spot. My cock tightened in my grip, and I felt the pre-orgasmic aura swell and then explode in a rush of sensations. A hard throb filled my cock-root, and I dissolved into orgasm as the first rush of cream filled my tube. Now I was operating only on animal instinct, and I stopped fingering my turgid tip as I fisted my foreskin fully up over the throbbing head. A heavy masculine odor hit my nostrils as my lubricant and cream mixed, dribbling down my cock-head to lubricate my flying foreskin. I slid the hood up and down sharply, needing the sensations, as my cock spit its streams with every throb. Now I smelled the sharp, clearly defined odor of chlorine as my cream soaked the towel. This gave me another surge of excitement, and I howled in joyful agony as the full force of the orgasm hit my brain and shut down my conscious mind. My only instinct was to keep pumping my foreskin back and forth over the hot sensitive glans to enhance my sensations, and I pumped hard and fast.

I was totally caught up in my rapture, and had no though or image of anyone else now. My throbbing prick, with burning jets erupting from the tip, captivated my attention totally. I felt another heavy gush pour from my tip as I writhed in ecstasy. The hot blasts from my engorged tip were the only things I felt, and my fist kept sliding my hood up and down, torturing the head, until I'd shot my load. My glans suddenly became too sensitive, and I was forced to stop as the last dribbles seeped from my distended orifice.

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