Date: Mon, 28 Feb 2005 09:52:10 -0800 (PST)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
Subject: Another Circle Jerk

Another Circle Jerk
By Jackinnm@yahoo.com

Long ago I used to have a few buddies with whom I
enjoyed circle jerks. The term "circle jerk" was a
misnomer because we didn't sit around in a circle, but
more in a row. We usually held our sessions at my
friend Marty's apartment, where he'd lined up a row of
chairs on one side of his queen size bed.
All of us had a few things in common: We were in our
middle twenties, we all had average sized dicks, about
six inches, and we were all single. Most of all, we
really enjoyed masturbation, getting vicarious
pleasure from watching other guys bring themselves to
climax by hand.
We'd always jack ourselves to orgasm separately,
avoiding coming at the same moment. That way, we could
enjoy the show we put on for each other. We had some
differences, as well, because our pricks came in
different types and proportions. This meant that we
had different styles of stroking, based partly on
anatomy and partly on preference.
Al was the only one without a foreskin, and he used
lots of baby oil to lube his prick as he stroked,
using long full strokes with a twisting motion around
his large leathery mushroom head. He'd also work the
area between the ridge and the thick scar on his
shaft. Marty also used lots of baby oil, because his
hood pulled back all the way when he got hard, too
tightly to allow stroking it up over his big purple
helmet. I also used baby oil, because despite my long
thick foreskin, I secreted very little pre-cum, and
needed lots of lube to allow my foreskin to slide
easily during long strokes.
We disrobed and began stroking, and gradually the odor
of hot foreskins filled the room, giving us all a
turn-on. Al was always fascinated by foreskin action,
watching us avidly as we slid our hoods over our
pricks. Mike always came first, because his prick-head
was very sensitive. Limp, he'd be able to pull his
hood back over the small soft head for washing, but
when hard the swollen glans was too big to slide
through the tight ring of foreskin.
Mike really enjoyed his sessions, using long forward
strokes of his ample foreskin, and because he had very
low-hanging balls, they'd bob violently when he got
near the end and was stroking hard. One of us would
always cup his balls to avoid their moving too much
and causing him discomfort. This time, he lay back on
the bed because he liked to come lying down, and Sam
held a wad of paper towels below the end of his dick
to catch the cream.
We watched his lips draw back and his eyes close as he
approached his explosion. His hips lifted off the bed
as he groaned in ecstasy, and we watched the white
stream pour out of the pucker at the end of his hood.
His fist flew over his prick as he blew his wad, and
the rest of us watched, entranced and stroked our
pricks slowly to avoid coming.
Frank was able to skin his prick back part-way to
uncover the end of his long slender glans, which was
deep pink. As Mike got up from the bed, Frank took his
place, his scrotum tight against his body. We saw the
tip of his fiery glans darken as his excitement
mounted, becoming deep red as he fisted his hood
slowly over the sensitive knob. Frank always used a
slow stroke, trying to make the build-up last,
especially during the final stages.
We watched Franks' eyes close, although he kept his
face and body relaxed as his excitement leaked. Mike
sat at his side, a wad of paper towels ready. When
Frank howled in orgasm Mike caught the long white jets
that erupted from his prick. Frank's body stiffened,
and his fist flew over his shaft, driving the thick
hood up and down the glans to bring forth more jets.
Mike pressed the paper towels against Frank's tip as
the juice flowed, and the rough contact against the
tender, sensitive head made him shudder.
Sam wanted to be next to come, and he reclined on the
bed. His prick was slender, with a graceful upward
curve along which he slid his hood to cover and
uncover the narrow but shapely head. He stroked with
his skin mostly forward, while Frank waited with paper
towels. We watched his balls tighten against him as
pre-cum dribbled down his fingers, overflowing from
his prick. He reclined as he got hotter, and when he
exploded he was flat on his back, rigid as a board,
yanking the hood down all the way to shoot his jets
toward his face. Frank held the paper towels under the
purple glans to catch the cream as Sam's cries of joy
filled the room.
Jerry was next, preferring to sit on the edge of the
bed for the finish. He had a long, thick hood that
skinned back fully, baring his long, bell-shaped
glans. The pink cock-head had a flare all the way
round, and the ridge didn't sweep forward as mine
does, but dropped right down to meet under the prick,
forming a bell. Jerry also used long strokes, because
he enjoyed the movement of the hood over his bell and
shaft. Like Mike, his balls didn't retract fully, so
this time I cupped his scrotum with my left hand while
slowly stroking my long hood with my right. We saw the
end of his glans turn red as the skin momentarily drew
back. Mike held another wad of paper towels ready, and
when Jerry convulsed he caught the flying jets.
Jerry threw his head back and cried out in wild,
agonized ecstasy as his prick erupted, and I felt his
scrotum throb in my fingers as he shot into the paper.
Shooting, he uncovered the head all the way at the
bottom of each stroke. Mike pressed the wad of rough
paper against the big red head to give Jerry extra
sensations, meanwhile watching it soak with thick
come.
Now it was Marty's turn, and he lay back fully while
fisting his heavily lubed prick, running his fingers
over his big mushroom and the sensitive nerve endings
of his inverted foreskin. His fingers ran into the
groove behind the ridge, sending hot sparks of
sensation stabbing into his prick, and we watched his
cock-head turn darker purple. He held his prick almost
parallel to his stomach as the hot storm overtook him,
and shot his load into the paper towels Frank had laid
there. Marty gasped and grunted as jet after jet flew
from his hot prick, until he was spent.
"Your turn, Jack," he said as he got up. I took his
place, but sat against the headboard because I enjoyed
watching. The others clustered round me, eager to
watch the show.
"Skin it back for us, Jack," suggested Marty as he
grabbed a large wad of paper towels. Jerry's fingers
cupped my balls, not because they flop around, but
because he knows I enjoy the feeling. All eyes were on
my prick as I prepared for release by drawing my hood
all the way back from the big shiny purple helmet.
Although I have enough skin to cover the head
completely even during orgasm, I enjoy skinning back,
stretching the many nerve endings in my thick hood,
while I lightly bump my flaring ridge with the thick
ring of skin. Released from its tight covering, the
cock-head expands fully, the ridge flaring out and
turning dark purple.
"Look at that big tip," murmured Al as he watched me
tease my prick closer to the brink with light bumps
against the corona. I saw a drop of clear fluid fill
my teardrop shaped hole as the heavy tingle began in
my head and shaft. Jerry spread the fluid in small
circles around the hole with his fingertip, giving me
an extra thrill. I knew I was right there, and bumped
the rim again, then pulled back hard to stretch the
nerve endings. My cock-root convulsed, and my eyes
closed as the first hot blast of lava burned its way
up my prick, making me howl in pure joy. Marty's hand
wrapped around my big naked tip, and I felt the rough
paper lightly scratching the delicate nerve endings in
my hot, throbbing tip. I cried out helpless at the
extra surge of sensation that was almost painful. Gush
after hot gush of cock-lava tortured me, until I was
drained.
When I recovered, I moved to let Al take my place. He
preferred to lie down, and I gave him an extra squirt
of baby oil before grabbing a handful of paper towels.
His fist flew over his head and shaft, concentrating
on the head because he had no foreskin. His fist
twisted around the big mushroom, which darkened as Al
began grunting hard. My fingers closed lightly around
his balls and the base of his shaft, because I wanted
to feel the pulses of his orgasm.
I felt the hot pounding in his shaft as I heard him
grunt louder, and knew he was hurtling over the brink.
The first thick, ropy jet shot into the paper towels,
some dropping back onto his swollen glans. Most of his
juice fell back onto his prick because he held his
prick straight up as he came, and some trickled down
into his pubic hair. I pressed the wad of paper down
on his bulging tip, now slippery with thick cream, and
twisted it several times to make him howl with
tortured joy.
Now that we'd all drained ourselves, we trooped into
the bathroom for quick showers, rinsing the sweat off
in warm water. We then gathered in the kitchen for our
post-orgasmic beers.

The End