Date: Fri, 3 Mar 2006 11:56:24 -0800 (PST)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
Subject: Exploring, Part 8, Adult Friends, 8/?

Exploring, Part 8
By Jackinnm@yahoo.com

	The four of us had gotten together for a hot sex
session at my house that day, and Jerry and his son
Eric had just had frenzied orgasms while docking. Tip
to tip, they had bathed each other's glans with hot
cream, and now were relaxing. Chris and I had come
only minutes before, but we were both hard again from
watching them. Although we were rock-hard, our
foreskins still covered our tips.
	"Hey, Chris, you've been making some real progress.
Now your hood stays over the head when you're hard," I
commented. Chris had been restoring his foreskin by
stretching the existing shaft-skin, and now only the
long lips of his slit were visible through the end of
his new hood.
	"Yeah, but I've still got a little way to go. Your
skin covers the head completely with a pucker in
front. I can't see your slit at all."
	"We're both really hard, Chris. This scene got us hot
again." We both saw that the outlines of our swollen
tips were visible through the enveloping skin.
	"Think you can come again?" he asked. "I know I can."
	"Let's go into the spare bedroom," I suggested.
"We'll let them relax here, and maybe they'll even go
to sleep." I got up and led the way, my hard prick
swinging as I walked.
	"They really drained their nuts," Chris said as he
followed me. Between the docking and the vibrator,
they blasted their cream into Jerry's skin." Now that
we were in the spare bedroom, I pulled Chris down into
a "69" position on the bed.
	"We've never done this together," I said as I
inserted my tongue into the orifice of his foreskin,
probing the long lips of his slit. He was only a
second behind me as I felt him grasp my shaft to
stabilize it as he insinuated his hot tongue under my
hood, running it in small circles around my meatus.
I'd hardly ever had oral sex, and this was profoundly
exciting for me. I guessed it was very hot for Chris
as well.
	I had a very close-up look at his penis, with its
straight shaft, purple mushroom head, and wide
foreskin. His new foreskin was the same diameter as
his shaft, so it didn't narrow to conform to the taper
of his glans. Its looseness was why it produced a
slapping sound when he whacked his prick. Mine did
not. The plastic surgeon had shaped my skin graft to
the shape of my blunt-nosed helmet.
	The point of my tongue probed deeply into his slit
and tasted the saltiness of his lube, plus the residue
of the cream he'd ejaculated a half-hour earlier. I
guessed that he was tasting my juice too. There was
also a faint chlorine smell from his semen, mixing
with the musky, sweaty smell of his balls.
	Now I felt his tongue push deeper into my foreskin,
caressing the broad upper surface of my glans as it
traced the outline of my corona. The rough surface of
his tongue tickled the nerve endings in my helmet. I
pushed my tongue farther into his foreskin as well,
feeling the glassy smoothness of his mushroom, which
last year had been dry and leathery before he'd begun
restoring his foreskin.
	We were both enjoying the slow exploration of each
other's pricks. As we'd released our loads of sperm
very recently, there was none of the urgency that
usually accompanies sexual excitement, and we were
content to relish the slow sensations. I tried a few
different methods to enhance his sensations.
	First, I worked my tongue all around his thick
corona, from top to bottom and back up the other side.
Then I probed the deep groove behind the rim, as I
knew there were also many nerve endings that welcomed
the attention. I placed the tip of my tongue into the
triangular groove under the glans, strumming his
frenulum, his hot spot.
	Now I grasped his prick firmly around the shaft and
drew his foreskin back to expose the hard purple
mushroom altogether. It glistened wetly in the
bedroom's soft lighting, and I lapped its surface
while squeezing the base of his shaft tightly to
compress the veins. This retarded the flow of blood
from the shaft and glans, and I felt the surface of
his smooth mushroom harden against my tongue. I felt
his release my prick and speak:
	"Wow, Jack, that feels so good. It's really hot. Good
thing I came not long ago or you'd have had my load
already."
	"Easy does it," I replied. "I want you to relax and
enjoy it as long as you can. I like working on your
prick."
	"This is the first time I'm tasting your cock," he
said. "I hope mine tastes as good to you as yours does
to me."
	"I love the taste and the smell."
	"My cock feels so hard and swollen now that you're
squeezing it," he continued.
	"I want to get you up on the edge and keep you there
as long as I can," I explained. "You're already
leaking lots of lube." I licked at his slit, wiping
away the large drop of clear viscous fluid that had
parted the lips.
	"Yeah, Jack, each time you lick the head I feel
another drop coming out deep inside."
	"Your lube tastes good, nice and salty," I said.
	"Your hole's just a few inches if front of my eyes,"
he said as he pushed my foreskin halfway back. "It's a
perfect teardrop now that your helmet's hard." He
pressed the tip of his tongue into my meatus, giving
me another hot thrill. I did the same to him, but as
his slit's considerably longer than mine, my tongue
went inside, caressing the interior. I felt him
shudder before he said:
	"Man! That was a thrill! You keep doing that and I
won't be able to hold back." He pushed back on my
foreskin and now his lips enveloped my swollen helmet.
As his tongue worked over the top surface his lips
caressed my rim. Chris twisted his head and I felt the
delicious sideways friction as his lips slid around
the back face of my flaring corona. A slight tickle
deep inside told me that I too was secreting lube.
	I already had his foreskin fully back and I wrapped
my lips around his rim as I continued to tongue his
long slit. His glans was already fully swollen as if
orgasm was imminent, so it didn't engorge further.
However, I felt slight throbs in his shaft as the root
of his prick contracted. Chris began to moan as I kept
probing his slit with my tongue, and I felt the
vibrations in my glans. I stopped.
	"I just want you to know that when you start coming,
I'm going to swallow your cream," I told him. He
removed his mouth from my prick and said:
	"I was wondering about that. I'm going to swallow
yours too. I've always wondered how your come would
taste."
	"We'll both find out, Chris," I replied before
enveloping his turgid mushroom again. His mouth closed
over my helmet but this time he worked his lips up and
down on it. His hand stroked my tight foreskin forward
as he pulled his mouth back, and then when he reversed
direction he pulled my foreskin back as his lips
advanced toward the rim. This double-action stroking
was very exciting, and I knew he'd found the formula
to pull the orgasm from me no matter how hard I tried
to relax. I said:
	"You're going to have my load if you keep that up. I
just can't hold off for long. I'm going to stop so I
don't accidentally bite you when I come." Chris kept
working my prick in his determined way, and I felt the
familiar ache build up in my glans as it swelled with
even more blood.
	My helmet was thrilling with the friction, and now I
felt a tickle begin in my rim. As his lips continued
to caress my helmet and his strong fingers kept
sliding my foreskin in time with his mouth, the tickle
spread all over my glans. Although I tried to remain
relaxed, especially in my crotch, I felt my muscles
tighten involuntarily. I felt Chris clasp my bunched
scrotum with his strong fingers, not squeezing but
just letting me know he was there. My eyes closed.
	Hot sparks of sensation stabbed deeply into my helmet
as Chris tightened his lips on its tender surface,
triggering my first ejaculation. I moaned loudly as a
hot torrent of cream shot out of my prick into his
mouth. I felt his lips and tongue moving against my
glans as he struggled to swallow the eruption.
	My prick throbbed again and another burning jet
coursed its way up my tube. Chris held my shaft
tightly, keeping the skin back hard, putting tension
on the nerve endings. My prick throbbed again between
his fingers, and another gush poured into his mouth. I
was helpless in his hands, trapped in mindless bliss,
overwhelmed by the stunning sensations.
	My next spasm was weaker and the following one weaker
still. Chris had stopped moving his mouth on my
aching, throbbing helmet, and now was just lapping up
the residue that oozed from my meatus. I lay in my
usual post-orgasm daze as the excessive sensitivity
faded. Finally, his lips slipped from my glans and he
eased my foreskin forward to envelop it.
	"Jack, your helmet felt so hot in my mouth. It was
throbbing hard against my tongue every time you shot."
I was quickly recovering, and now took his penis in my
mouth again to pay him back for the magnificent orgasm
he'd given me. I began doing the same thing he had to
me, pressing my lips up over his swollen mushroom as I
pulled the foreskin back to expose it, and then
sliding my lips down off his glans while pulling his
foreskin forward to recover it. He moaned loudly and
then said:
	"I'm so worked up from feeling you come that I just
can't hold back anymore." His balls were tight against
his body and the sweat from them filled my nostrils. I
gave his foreskin a hard downward yank to stretch his
nerve endings, and quickly rotated my lips around his
corona, caressing the buds of sensation in his rim. He
yelped loudly, surprised by the sudden sensation, and
then I felt his hot hard mushroom throb against my
tongue and palate.
	His first salty load flooded my mouth and I swallowed
frantically as I rotated my lips around his corona
again. His frenzied grunts filled the room as another
torrent of hot, salty cream erupted from his tip,
parting the lips of his slit. Now I probed between the
gaping lips as I rotated my mouth around his mushroom
again to give him more of the delicious sideways
friction that had triggered his orgasm.
	I smelled the chlorine from his ejaculation as I
swallowed it, and then he bucked his hips, thrusting
his hot, throbbing prick deeper into my mouth, the
blunt nose hitting the back of my throat, as he
unloaded another gush of semen. His next spurt was
weaker, and I stopped moving my mouth on his mushroom,
although I held on to his rigid shaft, maintaining the
tension on the skin to keep its nerve endings
stretched.
	Chris gradually relaxed as the prick-throbs faded
like mist in the morning sun. His rapid breathing
slowed and now he became utterly still. I ran my
finger up the underside of his shaft to push out the
residue, which I licked off as it seeped through the
lips of his long slit. As his prick softened I gently
pulled his foreskin toward me to cover the precious
head.
	"You really drained me," he finally said.
	"Just like you drained me," I replied.
	"That was so intimate, feeling your cock shooting
into my mouth," he continued.
	"It was intimate for me, too," I said. "I really
enjoyed running my lips over the contours of your
tips, pushing my tongue into your slit..." I trailed
off. I got up to check on Jerry and Eric in the main
bedroom, and found them asleep in each other's arms. I
let them sleep and returned to report the news to
Chris.
	"Since they're sleeping, let's you and me spend the
night here. This bed's comfortable too."
	The following Wednesday we met for lunch in the
office of Jerry's construction company. He sent his
secretary out to get us sandwiches and then told her
to take a two-hour lunch herself. That left us
undisturbed as we dragged chairs up to surround
Jerry's desk where our sandwiches and drinks were
arrayed.
	"Well, what did you find out?" Jerry asked me, giving
voice to what was on everyone's mind. I had checked
into the status of the shooting, and had found out a
lot.
	"First, I had a talk with Detective Robinson, who's
in charge of the case here. He said they haven't any
idea regarding who shot the doc, and don't even have a
possible motive. I had to keep my questions general,
because I didn't want to suggest any avenues of
investigation to him. I never mentioned circumcision,
for example, and never asked about any possible
connection to similar cases around the country."
	"I really hope nobody makes any connection," Chris
said. "If even one cop thinks that two or more of the
doctor shootings might have a common variable, then
that could start an avalanche."
	"The shit would really hit the fan then," Jerry said.

	"I don't think there's any danger of that," I
contributed. "Anyway, little danger. In every case, it
could be someone the doctor personally circumcised, or
it might be someone he never clipped or even met but
who just doesn't like the way the doctor's promoting
mutilation. It's too tenuous unless one of the
shooters makes a mistake."
	"You said `shooters,' plural," Eric said. "How can
you be sure it's not one guy traveling around the
country?" Chris answered him:
	"We can be absolutely sure it's more than one guy,
Eric. First, we know you beat up that first doctor
here in town. Second, we doubt very much that you've
been doing any traveling lately. Third, you don't even
own one gun, much less several. Finally, you were with
us when that last doctor got shot, so we're sure it
was someone else."
	"The different styles of attacks, the different
calibers, point to individual shooters," I said.
"Different shooters imply different motivations. Even
if we take the worst-case assumption, that some
investigator makes a connection with circumcision, he
can only go so far."%0
D
	"I see what you mean," Jerry interjected. "If some
cop connects one shooter to one shooting, that doesn't
mean he can connect them all. If one makes a mistake,
he can only screw himself."
	"Yeah," Chris said. "Even if one shooter was
motivated by what this particular doctor did to him,
and he goes stupid and writes threatening letters to
the doc, and the cops find them, then that would only
establish a personal connection to that one shooter.
If another shooter shot a doctor because the guy was
promoting circumcision, or trying to set a world's
record for circumcisions, there wouldn't be a personal
connection." I added:
	"Even if the cops operated on the assumption that the
shooter must have been someone the doctor circumcised
years ago, think of all the people they'd have to
follow up on and check out to try to narrow it down to
who did it. Trying to trace every boy circumcised by
that doctor would run them all over the country, since
a lot of people move during their lifetimes, some die,
and others simply can't be found. Then, if their
efforts were successful, they'd still have only one
suspect, and they'd have to start from scratch on all
the other incidents."
	"I think sooner or later some cop's going to make a
connection," Chris said. "I don't know how long this
string of shootings is going to go on, but the longer
it does, the more the cops have to work with."
	"It might even be a cop doing one or more of the
shootings," I suggested. "Just think about it. A lot
of cops got circumcised when they were kids. Maybe one
or more resents it enough to do something drastic
about it. If so, he'd have the knowledge of how to do
it without drawing attention to himself."
	"That's an interesting suggestion," Jerry said. "I
don't think all of the shooters could be cops, but
maybe one or two are."
	"Well, we're going to have to wait and see what else
develops," Chris said, summing up what we all felt.
	"Meanwhile, Eric, you stick close to home," Jerry
said. "I want you to have alibis in case of more
shootings, so play it safe."
	"Also," I interjected, "don't talk about any of this
to anyone. I mean, don't ever admit to anyone that you
resent it that the doctor clipped you. That could only
draw attention to you if ever the cops make that
connection."
	"I think Eric's safe now," said Chris. "The big story
is that doctors have been shot. Eric only maimed the
doctor who butchered him, and that's awhile ago, so
it's not likely to get much attention now."
	"I'll go along with that," I agreed. "If Eric just
keeps a low profile, he won't attract attention."
	"The bitch is that some bright newspaper guy might
make the connection," Chris said. "Newspaper people
are brighter than the cops, and their jurisdiction, if
you can call it that, is the whole country or the
whole world, not just one city or county."
	"That's right," I agreed. "That's been at the back of
my mind too. I've been checking the wire services each
morning and I've been on the Internet to see if
anything like that's been happening."
	"Well, my secretary might be back any moment now,"
Jerry said, bringing the meeting to a close.
	"I'm going to be working every day for a couple of
weeks right now," I added. "The editor's got me
working on why the mayor's planning to add landscaping
to our freeway shoulders when he's at the same time
urging people to conserve scarce water. I'll let you
guy know when I can host our next meeting." With that,
we broke up and left.

Continued in Part 9