Rob's Ruinous Erection Ch. 02

I took big John's penis in my hand. Of course I had seen it before, but never erect. It was a vastly different animal than the hanging wet limp hose I had glimpsed in the showers with the rest of the lacrosse team. Of course we all secretly checked each other out, but never let on to that. Standard procedure for most guys since puberty really.

His penis was full-length, a good handful but not yet completely hard. He leered at me, a challenge in his eye, and I began to play with it. He put his hands behind his head, resting on the sofa-arm rest, and looked down at his excited penis.

I slid his foreskin up and down a bit, watching the cockhead poke out and then retreat. He had nice balls, not quite drawn up yet but dangly, loose in their sack. The other guys crowded around for a good look.

I calculated my approach. He wanted fifteen minutes, I could do that. I knew plenty well how to get a good load out of a penis, without even knowing about how much fluid he currently held in the sperm tanks, or anything about the state of his semen-propulsion mechanisms. Whether his last sperm-launch was that morning or a week ago. He was a big, strapping college guy after all. The deal worked the same with everyone.

Stroke it hard, get it close, let it droop. Repeat as long and as often as possible.

It took very little finger work, pulling his skin around, touching the cockhead, before he was serious hard. He had a proud look on his face, and once even grabbed his tool out of my hands and waved it around. I am not sure whether this was for my benefit or the other guys.

It was stiff, probably capable of ejaculating right then. So I just played with his balls, letting his cock just lie there on his belly, prick-tip stretching nearly to his navel.

Nice balls. Hairy. Firmer now that they knew what was up. I squeezed them, careful. Mine never liked vigor.

Gradually his cock drifted back into a half-hard state, a bit limper, and I began to play with him again. Just lightly, a tease, fingers up and down his shaft, barely grazing his cockhead.

Two minutes and his hips were moving about restlessly. Again, if I had wanted to, it would have taken just another minute or two to launch him, but I let his prick gradually lose its hardness. This time I ran fingers up and down his inner thighs, big thick hairy thighs. Doing the same thing as Melanie would do to me to drive me crazy with desire. The guys were watching intently.

Back to his dick again, just a few touches and it was real hard.

I felt my own penis begin to stir again, just with the excitement of getting someone else aroused. It wasn't dangling anymore but in a half-stiff condition. I was kneeling next to the couch, aware of my excited penis between my legs. Felt good. Roger was rubbing his own penis through his jeans. I decided I might be able to accomplish a couple things at the same time: shift the scene a little, and put off John's climax a bit longer.

"Hey, why don't you guys drop your own drawers?" I directed my gaze right at Roger. "You got an eyeful of Steven and me, now John. Let's see the whole gang."

They all looked at each other and finally Roger grinned. "Fair enough."

I didn't realize I was playing right into their whole game.

I saw them all pull off their clothes, all the different pricks emerging. Good sample - a fine phalanx of phalluses. Roger's was hard, naturally, and pretty much fitted his middle-linebacker physique, thick and vigorous, the others in various states of arousal. Mike, with his flaming red hair and an impressive crotch thicket, had a short, very pale item. His skin was dotted with freckles. Ron, as I might have thought, had a penis that matched his build. Long and skinny, not very impressive, really. Narrow penis head, small hanging balls. Looked like it was designed for small-gauge cunt work.

Roger had a good one, stiff and ready. He pulled his foreskin back so the head emerged, big smile on his mug. It appeared that Ron and I were the only ones with circumcised pricks.

I went back to John. His cock was hard now, hadn't really retreated from its last stiff phase. I lightly played with it, watching it twitch with the touch. His hips were squirming again way too fast, his abs crunching his pelvis up to meet my touches.

Might as well take him home.

"Some oil?" I asked.

Mike complied, dousing John pretty good. I rubbed it around his crotch til he was glistening. Looked damn good.

I rubbed lightly, taking my time. Got him to the edge three times, each time letting off just a bit, diverting finger attention to his balls. This is the trickiest part, not wanting quite yet to push him over the precipice.

But his hips were pushing up with each touch, his cockhead straining for the slightest contact with my slippery fingers. I teased him. The guys were silent.

I put one hand under his balls, gently squeezing, pulling, fondling. The other hand went up and down his shaft, my thumb pushing on the "v-notch" on the underside of his prickhead. I loved that area myself. Up and down, I picked up speed. His legs were ram-rod stiff, toes spread and tense.

I felt the first pulse from his penis and gripped just under his cockhead-ridge with one hand, strangling it. I waited to feel the second pulse before I released my hold.

Blast it if one good wad of high-pressure sperm didn't come hurling out of his cockhead.

Amazingly, going way back to my patient, extended practice on my buddy Lenny years ago, my aim was remarkably good. I managed to send the wad straight up his body, with some serious distance and velocity.

I got him in the chin, with one deflected splatter actually tagging his nose. His eyes slammed closed instinctively.

"You fucking rat!" he yelled while the boys hooted and I was inwardly delighted.

I kept stroking. The rest of the pulses were nowhere near as powerful, but I emptied a good load out on his belly while he spewed cuss-words at me.

"You fucker! Right in my face!" he wiped his nose and chin and yelled at Ron to get him a towel.

The other guys were trying not to laugh and mostly not succeeding. Roger was busting a gut.

"Bulls-eye!" he shouted, "Did you see that?" Then he covered his mouth and thought better of saying anything else.

Steven was smirking, at least I had another ally.

I was sure I was in for it now, it wouldn't have surprised me if John had launched himself from the couch and was prepared to give me a good thrashing. I was already planning my defense if there was any sign of that.

But the guys weren't succeeding in keeping their mirth in check. A couple of them turned away and pretty soon the whole gang was laughing, little restrained snorts at first and then loud and universal guffaws.

"Splat!"

"Good shot!"

"Right on the fucking chin!"

John's malignant gaze gradually softened, and he looked back from me down to the sperm puddle on his belly.

As soon as he smiled I knew I was okay.

"Alright you fucker, you got me good. And not a bad-feeling blast either. Can't fault you for that."

He sat up on the couch. I retreated a bit, but he stuck out a paw to shake hands, then realized what sort of goopy mess he would be handling, and he tossed me his towel first to clean off my hand.

We both stood up and shook hands while he looked down at me. His prick wagged about, spent, wet, soggy.

"Okay boys," he said, addressing the others. "Time for everybody else."

For about the thousandth time that afternoon I was in for a surprise. It apparently was wank hour for the crew.

"Think it's your turn to go first, Roger," said John. "And you owe him one, Mike. Why don't you guys trade off."

It was the damnedest thing.

Roger laid himself out on the couch, and Mike went to work on him.

The more I looked at Roger's cock, the more handsome it became, with a good curve to it and a wonderful round head.

Mike knelt next to him, I noticed his own prick was half-aroused, hanging pretty much fully erect between his legs, balls half-way drawn up and waving back and forth with his motions.

Mike cupped Roger's balls and slid his fingers lightly along Roger's shaft. The others had found places for viewing, John standing at one side of the couch for a good look.

Mike was exceedingly slow, very deliberate. I was enchanted despite myself, this was just the sort of action that Melanie used on me - slow, soft, teasing. Roger's prick got real hard, real fast. His balls were drawn way up, they were the kind that separated into two parts, not all crowded together in his ball-sack but with one egg to each side. Mike played with each in turn, squeezing, fondling, pulling them down and about in their scrotal container.

After maybe five minutes Roger's cock head was leaking precum pretty good, all damp and glistening at the end.

Apparently part of the ritual, Mike stood up at this point, leaving Roger's tool untouched but stretched out rigid on his belly. He sidled over to Roger's head.

Roger reached out and began to fondle Mike. I held my breath. Two guys wanking each other, just like me and Lenny a pile of years ago. Lenny would have been both pleased and disgusted at the scene. Happy for some serious sperm build-up amongst some aroused cocks, chagrined that this was apparently the best orgasm option around.

Mike stood tall, hands on hips, slender and fairly hairy, skinny white freckled ass twitching while his tool got attended to. It flopped around initially, in fact Roger seemed rather pleased with the way he waved it about, all rubbery like some sort of toy. But gradually it got stiffer and stood out proud. His cockhead was barbed, poking free from his foreskin, nicely shaped.

I was starting to wonder if all these guys knew each others' pricks intimately, sure seemed that way. Roger began rubbing Mike's erect prick now, all along its under-shaft, pushing his thumb along the bottom of the cockhead. I noted that his own tool hadn't subsided, still rested real stiff on his stomach, all laid out. These guys were into it.

After a few minutes of attention, while Roger remained damn hard, John directed Mike back to Roger.

"Let's get a good blast," he said, eyebrows arching in encouragement.

Well it wasn't but a few minutes. Roger was damn excited, hadn't seemed to lose much arousal, in fact the opposite, while he had stroked Mike, even though his own tool had gone untouched. But arousal is a fickle animal, you never know quite how it's going to grip you.

Roger's hips were squirming about, Mike had one hand on Roger's testicles, pulling and pushing around, the other sliding up and down the shaft rhythmically. Roger's legs were stiff as a pair of boards. I think it would have taken two guys, working hard, to bend even one of them at the knees.

His abs started contracting, curling his hips into Mike, and then with a grunt that filled the room, he shot his first spurt out on to his belly, covering his navel with a thick goop, and then we were treated to the sight of another three or four oozings, as sperm flowed from his dickhead. Mike continued to milk out the remaining semen, with slow protracted squeezings.

Mike looked pleased, he kept up the stroking, gentle but in tempo, until the last drop had emerged. John's eyes were shining.

"Good one," he exhaled. He looked at Mike.

"Mike, do your slither thing," he urged. Mike gave me and Stephen a questioning glance, I wasn't quite sure how to decipher it, maybe it was a "look, don't you dare mention this to anyone else" kind of thing.

"Do I really have to do it in front of these two new guys?" His eyes weren't quite pleading, but I got the feeling that if John had said no, Mike would have been relieved.

But John shot him a stare that pretty much indicated that Mike was to proceed as directed. "Hell, we all know you like it well enough. No secrets here." John looked around the room. Ron nodded.

I had no idea what the "slither thing" was until Mike straddled Roger on the couch and pushed his ass down into the puddle of Roger's sperm. He began to rock his pelvis back and forth, along Roger's torso, sliding amidst the mess, sliming Roger's belly and slicking up his own prick and ass.

It was all the world like a fucking motion, only along Roger's belly, not into some girl's snatch.

I was amazed how coated Mike's groin got, his crotch hairs were all soggy, his ass crack slimed up, his prick absolutely lubed. Little indentations formed in his ass-cheeks as he humped Roger's torso and drove his cock back and forth. We all watched intently, no eyes went anywhere else.

Well, Mike was pretty worked up at this point, he began to pick up speed.

"Finish him!" yelled John to Roger. "Onto your chest!"

Mike raised up on all fours, his prick pointing at Roger's sternum, and Roger began to work him with his own hands now, slippery with the coated sperm on Mike's cock.

Mike was arching his back, his hips curling into Roger's motions. His glistening prick slid around in Roger's hands and before I could even start imagining when the end would come, it arrived.

Mike had craned his head down so that he was staring at his prick-tip, his torso a semi-circle, while he grunted and humped his hips into Roger's hands, which were flying up and down Mike's cock at this point. A good first pulse of sperm, then a very impressive second shot, which flew out with some force onto Roger's chest. A few more dribbles of sperm oozed out while Roger milked him, and they were done.

What a mess! Two sperm loads coated Roger from sternum to groin thicket.

John was radiant.

"Excellent!" he said, "solid work all around."

Roger's eyes met John's.

"Yeah, you can clean up," said John, like he was bestowing some sort of royal favor. Roger retrieved a towel and dried himself off, then passed it to Mike.

"Ron, my boy." John eyed Ron carefully.

"One more."

Ron looked back at John. It was a bit like seeing some sheepdog gaze at his owner before heading out to the pasture. Eager? Not quite sure whether the big-adventure, his day's work and favorite activity, was really on? Ron arched his eyebrows.

John turned to me and gave me a once-over.

"You think you are good for a second round?" He looked doubtful.

"No, I've done enough stroking to last quite awhile, thank-you." I shook my head firmly, although my penis was not limp. There had been some pleasure generated in seeing the other guys.

"No, not doing yourself, or anyone else. But you think that thing can do a second coming?" He pointed to my cock, which twitched involuntarily.

I just stood there.

"Yeah, I bet you can."

"Take a seat," he directed me to the couch. "But not laid out, just at the edge. Ron's a between-the-knees guy."

Normally my penis is not too fussy about who touches it or how it gets handled. Like the saying goes, even bad sex still feels good. Or something like that. But Ron had never been my favorite guy, he was too reserved, stuffy even. That he was set to put his long accountant fingers on my prick was not particularly appealing.

Except the rest of the scene that afternoon had been unexpectedly arousing. My penis twitched involuntarily.

Seeing all these erect penises out in the open. The sperm shed. And the fact that, Ron or not, my own penis was half hard again, out in view, all sets of eyes on it. My mighty cock would be stage-center. Again. I couldn't resist the challenge.

"Do his balls first," said John, low and even. "I wanta see 'em good and worked over."

So Ron knelt down next to the couch and held my shaft in one hand. He began fondling my balls. They were restless in their wrinkled sack, shifting under their own movement. He held each nut, very gentle, moved them about. It did feel good. Melanie had been the only girl who would spend much time on my testicles, despite my explicit requests to others. She seemed to know just how intimately they were attached to my penis, and was capable of giving them a lovely, scintillating massage.

Ron, dammit, seemed to know this too. He pulled them, he squeezed them, he ran his fingers lightly along my scrotum once it had become one taut mass. It almost tickled, but I found my hips pressing down hard into the couch.

John was pleased. "Give 'em a little kiss," he urged Ron.

The look of alarm on my face must have startled and amused everyone, since a couple of the others started laughing.

"It's okay, it's just your balls," said Roger.

Steven's eyes were wide.

I closed my eyes, pretending it was Melanie. Only Ron was better than Melanie. His tongue went slowly, all around my nuts, tongue pushing, sliding wetly, sucking them lovely. My penis was dying with excitement.

But he kept licking, teasing me into an impossible state. I sensed, rather than saw, the guys crowding around.

I was afraid that I might end up spurting just from testicle attention, which had never happened before.

I opened my eyes and saw Ron's nose buried in my crotch, his tongue underneath my scrotum, doing lovely things.

Roger gave John a nudge.

"You think maybe...?" Roger's eyes went to John.

John shook his head.

"Not this time, maybe another." Roger nodded.

"But why don't you attend to Ron?" John suddenly pointed at Ron's prick, which I couldn't see very well, although I guessed it was erect.

"You know how he prefers to come," added John, apparently an unnecessary comment.

Roger positioned himself behind Ron, and I saw him reach around and begin to stroke Ron's penis. Ron left off his licking momentarily as his own hips began to move about in excitement.

"Finish him off," said John, meaning me apparently.

Mike doused my penis with another pile of oil, and Ron finally began to stroke my shaft.

Well, he was good. Maybe better than Melanie, although his touch wasn't as soft.

He ran his fingers up and down my shaft, paused for a time on my prickhead, dying as it was. The lubrication was luscious, every touch sending me slightly closer to the inevitable.

Roger was working Ron pretty good now too, enough that Ron seemed diverted at times, his own hips gyrating with pleasure.

My penis head was leaking fluid something fierce now, and Ron had smeared it around my cockhead.

My hips could no longer hold themselves still, they were going up and down, my penis pushing up to meet Ron's touch. Ron kept one hand on my balls, pressing into my perineum, and I felt the pressure reach the can't-stop phase.

I grunted, my hips thrust, and the first wad of sperm emerged. Not with much force, just a good big ooze, but Ron used the slippery wad on his hand to keep stroking. Another wad, another ooze, it was intense. I exhaled hard.

Ron's own hips began to quiver, they were moving in a way that meant only one thing. I wasn't in a good position to see him squirt very well, but saw his hips moving like a piston. He gave a little cry out while his hips quivered, pushed and slowed. There was a good pile of sperm on the ground later, with a couple signs on the front of the couch that his semen had come out pretty strongly.

He finished me off, slowly, gently, until I couldn't stand the barest touch any more, and moved my hips back.

What a fucking mess. Sperm all over my belly, Ron's hands.

Ron stood up, his cock still half erect, although his cockhead was diminishing before our eyes.

The boys all clapped. "Good show!" they said.

So that was it. We cleaned up. Beers were brought out and we stood there sucking them down while our limp dicks wagged in the breeze. John retrieved a couple enameled pins with "MWDH" on them. I had seen one before on one of the guy's jackets once but had no idea what the letters signified. Steven and I each received one.

John told us that we were now honorary members of the venerable "Merry Wankers of Dempster House" crew and could stop by any Sunday afternoon when in the mood for a little pleasure. The "club" had started, naturally enough, the first time John had caught Ron stroking himself surreptitiously one night, then progressed to the others. Jesus.