Date: Mon, 30 Oct 2006 14:49:38 -0800 (PST)
From: jack santoro <jacksantoro@yahoo.com>
Subject: Beginning with Paul, Part 1, Beginnings, 1/?

                          Beginning with Paul, Part 1

                            By Jacksantoro@yahoo.com


       That day I'd dropped into an adult shop to buy a plastic squeeze
bottle of Astroglide. This was before I knew it was available in Wal-Mart
for several dollars less. I was casually acquainted with the clerk,
enough to know that his name was "Paul."
       "I guess you like this stuff," he said as he rang up the sale.
"Personally I use Albolene, but we sell a bunch of different brands, so
everybody's got his own taste." As he handed me my change I told him:
       "I use it to lubricate my foreskin because I don't secrete much
natural lube, and I feel more comfortable if my penis is well lubed. I
put a couple of drops inside my foreskin each morning after I shower."
       "I don't have a foreskin," he replied ruefully. The doctor cut
mine off when I was born." I sympathized with him, as I'd considered
myself lucky to have escaped being clipped like the majority of American
males in my age group, early 30s.
       "I've seen uncut guys gut never got a chance to play with one,"
he added. When I heard this I decided that, as I was unattached and not
doing anything that evening, I'd offer him the opportunity to satisfy
his desire and curiosity:
       "If you're free this evening you can come over and play with
mine."
       "I get off work at six," he informed me. I wrote my address on a
sheet from my notepad and handed it to him.
       "Here, you can come right over if it's convenient. I'm only
five minutes away. It's 5:30 now and I'm on my way home from work, so
I'll pick up a pizza on the way home.
       "Okay, I'll see you soon," he said, and I left. When I stopped
at the pizza shop I realized that I'd neglected to ask him what he liked
on his pizza. I decided to play it safe and order what most people liked:
sausage and mushrooms. By the time the pizza was ready it was exactly six
P.M. and I realized he'd arrive only a minute or two after I got home.
       I was right. As I set the pizza on the kitchen table I heard the
bell ring. I went to admit him, and led him back to the kitchen, looking
casually at him. Paul was about my height, six feet, in his early 30s
like me, and we both had brown hair and eyes. His face was thinner than
mine and like me, he was clean-shaven.
       "It's sausage and mushrooms," I said as I took a couple of
bottles of beer from the refrigerator. "I hope that's all right with
you." Paul smiled shyly and said:
       "I like almost all kinds of pizza. I guess it's because I'm
half Italian. Sausage and mushrooms suit me just fine." He reached out
and squeezed my hand gratefully. I squeezed back and then opened the box.
       "Well, I'm full Italian," I explained as we ate. "Both my
parents came from Italy. I was raised on Italian cooking and I've liked
it ever since."
       "I guess that's why you didn't get circumcised like me," he
speculated.
       "That's right," I said. "My father wasn't cut because they
don't do that shit in the old country. My mother thought that cutting on
a baby's penis was barbaric. They told the doctor they didn't want me
cut, either."
       "Did they have a hard time convincing the doctor?" Paul asked.
       "The doctor was surprised, but my parents were pretty forceful
with him. My father was pretty adamant about it, and maybe the doctor got
the idea that something bad would happen to him if I didn't leave the
hospital with everything I was born with."
       "Lucky you," Paul said between bites. The pizza was very good,
and we were devouring it avidly.
       "I wish you'd been my brother," I said as I chewed. "You
wouldn't have been clipped either." As soon as I'd said it I was
shocked by what I'd said. It seemed too intimate and somehow
inappropriate. Paul noted the confused look on my face, for he replied:
       "I know what you mean, Jack. Anyway, we hardly know each other."
       "You're right," I agreed. "It's funny though, we hardly know
each other and after we eat we're going to get naked and play with each
other's prick."
       "That's pretty intimate, I think," Paul said. "Let's get to
know each other better while we eat, okay?" I nodded and Paul continued:
       "Were you an only child? I was."
       "I was too," I answered. "I know it's unusual in an Italian
family, but there was just me. I don't really know why."
       "I'm 32," Paul said. "How about you?"
       "I'm a year older," I replied.
       "I've never been married," he said.
       "I'm divorced," I replied between bites. "No kids."
       "I live alone, and I guess you do too," Paul added.
       "You're right. I haven't had a live-in friend or lover for a
couple of years."
       "Do you get lonely?" he asked, staring intently at me.
       "Yes, of course I do," I answered. "I'm sure you know what
living alone can be like sometimes."
       "I do," he said. "I really do."
       "Well, anyway we're not going to be alone this evening," I
concluded. By now we'd finished the pizza and were draining the last of
our beer. I cleared the table and led the way to the bedroom, where I
began stripping down without waiting for him. Paul followed my lead and
our clothes quickly dropped to the floor. His eyes were fixed on my
crotch, as I didn't turn away to undress. I knew he was curious about
foreskin and I intended to satisfy his curiosity and more. When we were
totally naked I took his hand and sat him beside me on the edge of my
queen-size.
       "Both our cocks are growers, not showers," he said. "Growers"
are small and enlarge to about double size with erection. "Showers" are
large to begin with, and don't swell much with erection, merely becoming
more rigid.
       "I get about six inches hard," I said.
       "Mine's about the same," he told me. "Yours has that extra
skin, though. It looks like a nipple or nozzle the way it sticks out
ahead of your cock-head." I took his hand and placed it on my thigh.
       "You can touch it," I urged. "Just be gentle. It's very
sensitive."
       "Oh, I know, Jack. An uncut cock's more sensitive than one
that's been cut." He grasped my pendulous foreskin nipple between thumb
and forefinger and lifted it, his touch sending an electric thrill into
my prick. He rolled the nipple between his fingers, delivering a pleasant
friction against my already swelling glans.
       "You've got a nice head on yours," I said as I reached down and
ran a fingertip around his flaring corona. "It's big and purple, a lot
like mine." His prick began to stir as I caressed his rim, and then I
ran my finger around his thick brown scar ring.
       "That's very sensitive," Paul whispered. "That and the skin
between the scar and rim."
       "I know," I said. "I've handled a lot of cut guys' pricks. I
also keep a jar of Albolene here. I know a lot of cut guys like it
because it's very slick and doesn't dry out."
       "Your skin feels very tight," Paul observed as he wrapped his
warm fingers around my rapidly swelling erection. He was trying to push
my foreskin back but the core of my prick was giving way to the pressure,
collapsing because it wasn't fully hard yet. "Does it go back?"
       "It goes back all the way," I explained. "You'll find it easy
to skin back when I'm fully hard and the core offers resistance." I
began squeezing Paul's glans between two fingers, certain that this was
making the root of his prick contract in response.
       "Each time you squeeze the head it makes my cock-root tighten
up," he said. Now his penis was fully hard and I studied it.
       "You've got a nice straight shaft," I observed. "It's very
smooth, and the head's bigger than the shaft. Your rim really stands
out."
       "Yours is straight too," Paul said. "You've got a big vein
running down the right side." The core of my prick now had fully
expanded into the enveloping foreskin, filling most of the nipple. Paul
gave my helmet a squeeze through the thick fleshy sleeve, and the root of
my prick reflexively contracted.
       "I'd say your glans is the helmet type, just like mine," I told
him. "You've got the same blunt front dome and it tapers out toward the
back. Your rim flares at the top just like mine. Even your hole pouts the
way mine does, like a teardrop, now that it's hard."
       "Your skin still covers the head all the way, even now that
you're hard," he said. "I've seen a lot of pictures of uncut cocks in
the magazines in the shop, and not many of them have skin that long.
Yours still has a pucker at the end."
       "You can push it back now, Paul. You'll find it slides easily."
Paul began pushing my foreskin down, stretching the opening to the size
of a dime and uncovering my teardrop shaped meatus.
       "I like the way your cock smells," he said as the aroma of my
wet glans and foreskin filled the room. "I wish mine smelled like that.
It's so masculine."
       "You can smell mine all you want," I said. "I know it excites
you." Paul leaned down to put his nose closer to my prick and inhaled
deeply. Now he pulled my foreskin up to close over the end of my glans,
forming a pucker at the end.
       "Your skin slides a lot easier now," he said as he pushed my
hood down again, stretching the orifice to the diameter of a quarter and
baring most of the blunt front dome of my helmet. "I've noticed it's
thicker than most I've seen in the magazines."
       "Yes, I've got a long thick foreskin, more than most guys have.
It slides easily, but that's because I keep it lubed with Astroglide,"
I informed him. As I spoke I kept squeezing his shapely helmet, knowing
that this was fueling his fire. He pulled my foreskin up again and
reversed to stroke it down, this time exposing most of my glans.
       "It's amazing how that skin stretches so much," he said in
wonderment. "It stretches and gets thinner now that it's riding down
over your helmet." He gently jiggled my foreskin a few times before
pulling it back up. Now I reached for the jar of Albolene.
       "Ready for this?" I asked, showing him the jar.
       "Oh, yes," he breathed. "What you've been doing is great, but
to get up to the level where I can come I need lube." At his words I
took several dabs of the jelly-like lubricant and began rubbing it
between my fingertips.
       "I'm warming it up for you," I told him. I knew that applying
cold lubricant to the warm penis could be a shock for some guys.
       "Thanks," he replied. "I like it warmed before you put it on
me." Now I began dabbing it on his swollen purple glans, spreading it in
small circles around his meatus. I heard him sigh as my fingers worked
over the compound curves of his helmet, caressing the nerve endings while
working the now liquid lubricant into the delicate tissues. When my
fingertips reached the strip of tissue between his corona and the scar
ring behind it I felt his fingers tighten around my prick.
       "I know that's sensitive," I murmured in his ear as I spread a
thin film of lube over the circumference of his scar. Now I clasped his
lubricated shaft between my fingers and began stroking him slowly, using
long and sensual strokes from the base to over his helmet. I felt his
fingers pushing my foreskin down, over my flaring rim and farther to snap
down into the deep groove behind my glans.
       "I love what you're doing to me," he whispered as his other
hand reached down to cup my scrotum. "I hope it feels as good for you."
Now he began working my foreskin up and down in long strokes, pulling it
all the way up to enclose my glans and then pushing it down to bare it
completely.
       "It feels fine," I reassured him.
       "I feel so hot," he said. "It's not just how you're stroking
me. It's handling your cock. I never played with a cock that had skin."
       "You're doing pretty well for an amateur, then," I said. "You
seem to be doing everything just right. My prick's really hard and
you're sliding the foreskin perfectly."
       I want to make you come first, if that's all right," he said.
"Stop stroking me, so I won't be distracted when you shoot." I
followed his lead and removed my hands from Paul's stiff prick. I lay
back on the bed to give him unobstructed access. His warm fingers
continued to work my foreskin up and down in long, loving strokes that
completely covered and then bared my glans right down to the groove.
       "It's magical the way your helmet pops out and then goes inside
again," he murmured as he caressed my glans with the flexible foreskin.
"Do you tighten up when you want to come?"
       "No, I just come," I answered. "Do you?"
       "Yes, I can't come unless I tighten up my muscles inside," he
replied. "That's the way I've always been. I can stroke for a long
time and not come because my dick's not sensitive like yours." This was
what several circumcised guys had told me. They, too, lacked the
exquisite sensitivity of the naturally protected and moist glans, having
become desensitized by removal of their foreskins, and had to clench
their crotch muscles to bring on orgasm.
       "Do you have to work hard with your fist to come?" I asked him.
       "That too," he replied. "Sometimes I really have to pound it or
I don't come."
       "That's too bad," I said. "I just relax and enjoy the ride."
       "This is so exciting for me," he repeated. "Handling a real
man's cock with a real live skin hood makes me so hot."
       "I'm enjoying it too," I said. "My prick loves attention. My
foreskin loves being handled the way you're doing it now. I'm getting
hotter feeling your fingers on my prick."
       "I can tell," he said. "Your tip's getting darker purple,
especially around the rim."
       "It does that when I'm getting close," I informed him.
       "Your tip's also getting harder, Jack. I can feel it even
through the thick skin. Before this it was a little spongy. Now it's
rock-hard."
       "I'm getting a little tickle around the rim," I informed him.
"This means I'm getting closer to climax." The persistent friction and
compression of my corona's many nerve endings was having its effect.
       "The back of your rim's really dark now, and those little buds
around it are really standing out."
       "Those little buds are the nerve endings," I explained. "When
they stand out like that it means they're getting a lot of stimulation
and reacting to it. Now I feel that tickle all over the head."
       "You're really leaking juice now," he commented. "I know you
said you don't secrete much lube but now that you're really excited you
are."
       "I think the tingle's starting now," I whispered as my eyes
closed. I'll let go any second." A hot tingle filled my glans and I
knew it would explode on the instant.
       "AH-AH-AH!" I cried out as the root of my prick churned and shot
a torrent of cream into my urethra. My entire prick was tingling as the
hot stream seared its way up my prick to slam through the lips of my
distended orifice. I felt Paul pull my foreskin up as the stream erupted,
and then he snapped it down again, stretching my foreskin's nerve
endings.
       The heavy pounding of orgasm was in full force inside me, and
another flood of sperm shot up my straining prick to shoot high into the
air. I caught the chlorine odor as it landed on my stomach, and I cried
out again.
       I was totally caught up in the frenzy of my orgasm as my prick
shot again, and my hips bucked as I thrust up into Paul's fist. Another
hot spasm gripped me, and as my prick released its load it suddenly
became super-sensitive.
       "STOP! STOP!" I cried out, the sensations having become too
acute and overwhelming me. Paul's fingers stopped stroking my foreskin
and now just held it all the way down as another burning torrent rushed
up my prick. I shot again, the jet streaming from my throbbing helmet,
followed by several more gushes of lesser force.
       As the last spasm went through me I began to relax, sinking into
the daze that follows a hot orgasm. I lay still for a minute before
recovering enough to open my eyes. Paul's face was right above mine as
he placed a soft kiss on my lips.
       "That was so beautiful, Jack," he said. "I felt your cock throb
each time you shot and watched each jet flying into the air. At the end,
though, you were just dribbling from your tip. I do that too at the
end." He kissed me again and lay down beside me, wiping my stomach with
tissues.
       "Thanks so much," I said weakly. "You gave me a really hot
orgasm, with your enthusiasm. That really turned me on.
       "You turned me on, Jack. Look at my cock. It's still rock-hard
even though you haven't touched it for a couple of minutes. I reached
over and wrapped my fingers around his lubricated shaft, bringing it up
to caress the helmet.
       "Wow, you are hard," I agreed.
       "How come you told me to stop right in the middle?" he posed the
question.
       "I forgot to tell you, Paul, most uncut guys get too sensitive
when they come. The tip got so sensitive it almost hurt." Now I propped
myself up and began working Paul's prick seriously, pumping it so that
he'd get the full effect.
       "Can you squeeze a little tighter?" he asked. "I need more
pressure because it's not as sensitive as yours." I responded by
tightening my fingers around his prick, and now I clamped the fingers of
my left hand around the base of his shaft.
       "I'm squeezing your prick at the base to compress the veins and
make your erection harder," I explained. "Do you want me to go
faster?"
       "Yes, please," he said. "I always used faster strokes when I
want to come." I increased my pace, feeling him respond as his already
rigid prick hardened further in my hand.
       "Now your helmet's getting darker," I said. "It's harder too,
now that I'm squeezing your shaft."
       "Oh, that feels good, Jack. I'm already so worked up from making
you come that I'm ready to shoot." I gave his swollen glans a twist
around the corona on each up-stroke now, twisting in the opposite
direction on the downward journey. He gasped.
       "How does that feel, Paul? Does that twisting stroke do something
for you?"
       "Fuck, yeah!" he cried out. "I'm almost there." I saw his
body tense and his legs begin to tremble as he tightened up to induce his
orgasm. His helmet was an angry shape of dark purple, the rim flaring out
sharply, standing out against the neck of his penis. Now as my clenched
hand flew up his shaft the web between my thumb and forefinger caught and
compressed the rim as I twisted my fist, and he gasped with each stroke.
       The veins stood out along his shaft as I maintained my tight grip
around the base. The Albolene made his entire prick glossy, from the base
to the flaring, straining helmet, as Paul tightened his muscles further,
striving to trigger his orgasm. I gave his helmet another twist as I
brought my fist down, caressing the sensitive tissue between his rim and
thick scar ring.
       "OWWWW!" he cried out as I felt his hot hard prick throb in my
fingers. A thick rope of white cream erupted upward from his distended
slit, falling back on my encircling fingers and his stomach. He cried out
again as my fingers twisted around his helmet, and I felt it throb hard
as another gush poured from his orifice. I rotated my fist so that my
palm swiped across the blunt front dome of his glans as he moaned
helplessly and another jet shot into my palm.
       Paul bucked his hips and thrust his helmet deeper into my fist as
he was swept away by the frenzy of his orgasm. I sensed the delicious
fire of orgasm consuming him as I continued to stroke his thrusting
prick, confident that I wouldn't over-stimulate him. His desensitized
glans needed all the friction I could give it to maintain the momentum of
his climax, and I made him shoot again, the odor of his chlorine-scented
cream filling the air.
       Now Paul's jets were weaker, dwindling to a dribble, as his
orgasm came to a close. I kept working his prick, knowing that each
stroke added to his pleasure even though the main event had passed. When
I felt him start to soften in my hand I released my grip on the base of
his prick and began milking his urethra, starting at the back behind his
sac and working forward. My fingertip pressed along his tube, pushing the
residue forward as I watched it seep from his slit.
       Paul's eyes were still open, staring fixedly at the ceiling, as
he came down off his high. His breathing had slowed as his body relaxed,
and now he was experiencing his afterglow. When his eyes turned toward
me, signaling that he was fully aware of my presence, I leaned over and
kissed him tenderly on the lips.
       "That was out of this world," he whispered. I kissed him again,
happy that I'd been able to provide such a sublime pleasure for him, and
felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me down to him.
       "I'm glad it was good for you," I said. "I'm glad I was able
to give you the same you gave me."
       "More than the same," he corrected me. "I was able to play with
an uncut cock."
       "You're right," I admitted. "I've stroked a lot of
circumcised guys but I'm the first natural guy you've played with." He
hugged me more tightly and our lips met again.
       "I want to play with you again," he said.
       "I'd like that," I responded.
       "You might get tired of me," he suggested anxiously.
       "No, I don't think so," I said.
       "Why not?" he asked.
       "Because you're not just a hot guy, you're a nice guy. I think
we're going to get along just fine." He tightened his grip on me again
and gave me a deep kiss, tongue twirling around mine, before we got up to
shower.

Continued in Part 2