Tom's Worm

I met Tom at the health club, and got to know him while riding the exercise bike next to his. He was shorter than I, stocky, and blond. He was also a year older than my 28 years, and we found that we had a lot in common. One Friday evening we finished at the same time, and headed for the shower. This was the first time I saw him naked.

There were three other guys showering in the big room, which had a dozen showerheads around the walls but no stalls, so we could see each other clearly. Naturally, we checked each other out discreetly, and Tom and I noticed that we were the only uncut guys. One of the others had a thick jagged brown scar around his prick, as if he'd been trimmed by a mad doctor using pinking shears. When we'd been born, only about half the boys got circumcised at birth, and maybe another 20 percent during childhood by doctors trying to pick up extra bucks to pay for their Hawaiian vacations.

Tom's prick was unlike mine, a smooth tapering worm, thicker at the base, and tapering down to a thick pucker at the end. The skin was smooth and unblemished, and I couldn't see the outline of the head underneath. Mine was heavy-ended, with the bulge of my bulky helmet visible through the skin, which formed a long nipple at the end. I saw that Tom had to hold the skin back while he washed the small red head underneath, and the moment he let go, the skin slipped forward again. Mine locked behind the flaring rim of my helmet, and I just let it rinse in the shower stream.

As we were drying off, Tom suggested I come to his place for drinks, and I eagerly accepted. When we got to his apartment, he pulled two beers from the refrigerator, and we quenched our thirst while talking. Tom was recently divorced, as I was, and the conversation turned to how much better sex with men was than with women.

"Only another man knows how to pleasure a man," he began. "Most women just don't know how to handle a cock."

"I know. I found that out with my wife," I replied. "She just wanted me to ram it in, and that was that. Foreplay was mainly to get her ready." Tom stood and began undressing, and I did the same, as we both expected that the evening would involve sex. We left our clothes in neat piles and he led me to his bedroom, which contained a large queen size bed. We sat next to each other, and I felt the warmth of his skin against my right thigh. His hand closed around the end of my prick, which was swelling rapidly.

"I just love hand jobs," he said as he began to slide my foreskin in short jiggles over the head. Even hard, I have enough foreskin to cover the head, and as I pinched his glans through the thick hood, I saw that his head remained covered too when he got hard.

"We both have enough skin to cover the heads, I see." I felt his tip swell and harden through the thick hood, but even fully erect it was much smaller than mine.

"Can I pull it back?" he asked. I nodded, and Tom slowly uncovered my glossy purple helmet, and a drop of lube parted the pouring lips of my slit. I reacted by skinning his back, and saw that the head had a nice mushroom shape. His rim was flat, not flaring like mine, and when I let go the hood glided forward to cover the head completely.

"Yours doesn't stay back like mine," I commented as I slid it slowly up and down the head. I held it back with one hand, and lightly touched the wet tip of his glans with a finger of the other. He shuddered and said:

"Please don't do that. The tip's too sensitive for direct action. Just slide the skin." I wasn't surprised, because I'd noticed that guys with tight foreskins tend to have more sensitive tips than mine.

"Mine's not that sensitive. You can touch it if you want," I said. His finger began to spread the drop of clear fluid in small circles around my slit. "That feels really good," I said as he caressed the contours of my glans in widening circles.

"Yours stays back," he said as he pulled my hood back to ride over my high flaring ridge and lock into the deep groove behind it. "I don't have a big head like yours, so it always slides forward again."

"Want me to just work the skin?" I asked as I cupped his balls with my other hand, feeling them tighten against his body.

"OH, yes, I really need that, I'm so horny. I haven't come for a week." I kept working his foreskin up and down the small head, aware of the effect my touch had on him. I pushed him flat on the bed.

"Here, let me do you first," I suggested. "You really need to come, and I'll finish you and then you can do me." Tom relaxed on the bed, his hand still wrapped around my prick, slowly stroking my foreskin in long sensual strokes.

I lay next to him. Making sure he could still reach my penis, as I worked his hood up and down the precious head. His breathing deepened, and I felt his body begin to tense. His tip was very sensitive, and my strokes were quickly bringing him close to the edge.

"That's so good," he whispered. "You really know how to do it to me." As he spoke, I felt his glans becoming harder and losing its spongy feel inside its fleshy envelope, evidence that orgasm was near. I slowed my pace to avoid sending him over the edge too quickly, because I knew how good the delicious feeling of anticipation could be.

"Just relax and leave the driving to me," I urged, slowly sliding his hood without uncovering the hot hard glans. "I'll bring you to the edge nice and slow, so you can enjoy every moment."

"Yes," he whispered as my fingers heightened his arousal. I pulled back a bit harder to expose the tip of his glans on the down-stroke, and saw that it was now deep red.

"You're really close now," I muttered as I saw his eyes begin to close. I recognized the sign because my eyes also close when I'm about to come. He was withdrawing into himself, focusing on the captivating sensations in his prick, the same way I do.

"When I start coming, let go. My prick gets very sensitive when I start coming," he said. I felt the first warning throb beneath my fingers, and I knew he'd pop any second. I slowed my rhythm even more, wanting him to slide slowly into the abyss. His hips bucked, and he moaned loudly.

"Here you go," I said as I felt his prick give a hard throb in my encircling fingers. A heavy jet shot through the pucker in his foreskin and I yanked the thick hood back. A second white jet shot onto his chest as I let go. His foreskin snapped forward and shut over his glans as another gush poured from the thick pucker at the end of his hood. I heard him moaning loudly and he thrashed on the bed, completely lost in the sensations. I cupped his balls, pressing my fingers into the tender flesh behind them, feeling the pulses of his cock-root in my fingertips. I saw his prick jerk several more time, gushes streaming from the end onto his stomach, and then he was still.

He'd released my prick when he'd begun shooting, and now he lay passively, hands at his sides, while his breathing slowed and he returned to full consciousness. Watching and feeling his orgasm had enhanced my excitement, and my prick was fully hard, foreskin drawn tightly back, locked in position behind my corona. I hadn't had an orgasm in a week, either, and I was very ready to release my pent-up load. Finally, he opened his eyes.

"Man, that was intense," he said. "You really did a number on me."

"I enjoyed it, Tom," I said as I handed him a wad of Kleenex to sop up his load. As he wiped his chest and stomach, he continued:

"I'll leave my prick till last. It's still too sensitive to touch. Yours get that way?

"Sometimes," I replied. "That lasts only a few seconds, until I've finished coming." Tom didn't skin back to wipe his prick. He just milked it, and dabbed at the large creamy drops that oozed from the end of his foreskin.

"That's enough," he said. "I'll get the rest when we shower. Now lets take care of you."

I lay back on the bed, and Tom straddled my thighs as he cupped my balls with one hand while the fingers of the other ran lightly over my naked glans. I shuddered at his touches.

"That too much for you?" he asked.

"No, just keep doing it. That feels so sensitive, and you're going to make me come soon. I'm already so hot from watching you." Lube poured from my meatus, making my glans very slippery and masking the sensations somewhat.

"Okay, buddy, just relax and let me take care of you," he said as he leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the lips. His fingers danced over my naked glans, sending hot sparks of sensations stabbing deeply into my prick, and I felt my crotch muscles tightening, even though I tried to stay relaxed.

"Relax, relax," he said, as his magic fingers brought me closer to the point of no return. The sensations were so intense that I felt as if orgasm would begin the next second, but I wasn't there yet.

"Your tip's turning darker purple," he said. "I can feel it getting harder now." His fingers traced my ridge, running down and into the hot spot under my glans, then moving up the other side. Now he grasped my shaft with his other hand, pulling down hard to stretch the nerve endings in the skin and uncover the tender flesh of my groove. His fingers caressed the back face of my ridge and teased the tissue in my groove, making me moan loudly in response.

"Should I stop when you start coming?" he asked as his fingers caressed the broad upper surface of my hard glans.

"No, just keep going," I replied through clenched teeth as I felt his fingers trace the outline of the big front dome around my slit, spreading the lube over my tortured nerve endings. Now his fingers encircled my rim, and I felt a throb deep inside.

"You're close, close, buddy," he said as another hot throb filled my prick. My eyes closed, and I got ready for the sensations that would alter my consciousness and send me tumbling into the free-fall of orgasm. Now my swollen glans was tingling under his hot touches, and the tingling spread down my shaft. Now I felt the first pounding contraction in my cock-root, and a burning sensation as the first hot gush poured into my tube. My glans, aching for release, exploded, and I was in mindless joy as I shot my first load.

"Go for it!" I heard Tom say in the distance as his fingers danced over my throbbing tip, drawing another jet from my pulsing prick. My cock throbbed again and again as I writhed on the bed, helpless in his hands, as his tantalizing fingertip touches sparked more eruptions.

Tom stopped when my pulses ceased, and now my prick lay on my stomach, oozing its last drops as my sensations faded. I felt Tom wiping my chest and stomach with Kleenex, and finally opened my eyes.

"Looks like we're ready for another shower," he said as he pulled me up off the bed and led me into his bathroom. He turned on the water and we stepped into the stall, where he began washing me down with a large sponge soaked with liquid soap. My prick was limp now, foreskin forward, and I felt a familiar urge.

"I have to pee," I said, wondering if he'd tell me to step out and do it in the toilet. Instead, he pinched the end of my foreskin with two fingers.

"Let it go, man. This is what I do when I have to pee in the shower." I relaxed my crotch muscles and I felt the hot stream course through my prick and watched my foreskin expand under the pressure.

"I make mine balloon too," I said as we both watched my foreskin swelling as it filled with urine. Tom let go, and my thick yellow gushed poured out between us, swirling down the drain at our feet.

"Now I have to pee," Tom said. "That beer went through me the same way it did you." I took the broad hint and pinched the end of his foreskin as he let go. We watched avidly as his fleshy hood filled, ballooning out just as mine had.

"That's flushing the cream from under my foreskin," he said.

"Okay, let go." I knew that if I'd held on a moment longer, it would have become uncomfortable for him, so I released his foreskin and his heavy gush sprayed our legs and the floor of the shower before running down the drain. Tom pulled back his foreskin, letting the shower stream wash over his exposed red glans.

"That's the final rinse," he said. I followed his example, retracting my foreskin to rinse my glans, but also because I knew he enjoyed seeing it, so different from his own. Now we both covered our tips with their protective envelopes and dried ourselves, feeling the lassitude that follows orgasm.

"Stay with me tonight," he said. "Tomorrow's Saturday, and in the morning we can do this again." We did.

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written by jackinnm