Date: Fri, 19 Aug 2005 10:53:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
Subject: An Evening with Rich, Beginnings, 1/1

An Evening with Rich

MM

By Jack Santoro

I was in Southern California for a week on business,
and on this Friday evening I decided to splurge and
have dinner at an exclusive (read expensive!) Beverly
Hills restaurant. I'd anticipated eating a good meal
and paying about five times what it was worth, and I
was right.

The headwaiter had seated me at a table for two, one
of a row along the back of the room. Along the wall
was a long bench, and on the other side of each table
was a chair. I was sitting on the bench side, alone at
my table. Right next to me was another man about my
age, seated on the bench, also alone. He had a very
friendly face, and I thought I recognized him as a
supporting actor from several films I'd seen. He
noticed me looking at him, and smiled at me.

"I'm dining alone. I hope you haven't been stood up."

"No, I'm alone too. I'm in town for a few days on
business, and decided to make a night of it." I
paused, wondering whether or not to ask him if he was,
indeed, the actor. Then I decided to go for it, and
asked.

"Yes I am," he replied. "Not many people recognize me,
and nobody's asked for my autograph in over two
years," he admitted modestly and with a laugh. I was
relieved that he didn't seem to take himself too
seriously, and wondered if perhaps he was as nice a
guy in real life as he played on-screen.

By the time we'd gotten to dessert, we'd exchanged
many personal details. I'd told him that I had been
married a long time ago, that I'd had a couple of
unsuccessful affairs after my stormy divorce, and that
I was resigned to being alone for the rest of my life.
He'd revealed that he was my age, (early 40s) had
never been married, and that he'd learned to cope with
loneliness. His work was sporadic, leaving him lots of
free time.

"I've enjoyed talking with you," he said. "We could
continue the conversation at the bar, but we could
also go to my house. That would be cheaper and more
private, and I live over in Santa Monica," he offered.


"Okay, I'll follow you," I replied. When we arrived
and parked in his driveway, he led me out to his
patio, facing a garden enclosed by a high slat fence.
We stood facing each other for a moment. He was a
couple of inches shorter than my six feet, with a
square head, brown hair and eyes, and a pleasant smile
on his full lips. There was a full moon, and it was
very quiet.

"My neighbors go to sleep early," he said. "We're all
alone out here." We sat in lounge chairs side by side.

"Very nice place," I said. "I guess you live alone."

"Very much alone. Would you like a drink? I've had
enough alcohol for this evening, but I'll fix you a
martini if you'd like."

"No, no more alcohol for me, either. I'm just fine
right now. Thanks, anyway."

"Okay, in any event, I have a spare bedroom. I don't
have to work for a couple of weeks yet, so I've got
little to do right now. It doesn't matter, though.
I've learned to live alone."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it as well," I said.

"You will. Masturbation takes care of physical
relief."

"It does for me," I replied.

"Still, it feels better with another guy's hand on my
cock," he said as he dropped his open hand onto the
chair's arm between us. I immediately placed my hand
over his palm to palm, to let him know nonverbally
that I felt the same way.

"On a warm summer night like this, I like to get
completely naked out here," he said, giving my hand a
light squeeze.

"I like that idea," I added, because I felt I was now
committed. He stood and removed his shirt. I took off
my shoes, and then stood to face him.

"Can I take off your pants?" I asked. He stood
silently and I undid his belt, letting his pants slip
to the tiles. In the bright moonlight, I saw the bulge
at the front of his jockeys, the outline of his penis
clearly visible through the double layer of cloth at
the front. I ran my finger over his glans through the
cloth.

"Feels nice, very nice,' he said.

"Those jockeys look so white against your skin," I
said as I began to slip them down. His penis was
beginning to swell, arcing down over his ball sac, his
naked helmet-shaped glans adorning the end of his
shaft. He stepped out of his clothes and began to
unbutton my shirt. When he'd removed it, he undid my
belt and pushed my pants down to reveal my boxer
shorts.

"I can't see yours through the cloth, so I'll have to
go by feel," he said as he slipped his fingers inside
the opening in the front of my shorts. His warm
fingers closed eagerly around my penis and he spoke
again:

"Oh, you've got a foreskin! I really like that. I
haven't had one since a few days after I was born." He
gave my hood a couple of light tugs and before I could
get fully hard pushed my shorts down my legs. Our
fingers continued to explore each other's anatomies,
touching, pulling, caressing, until we were fully
hard. Now he hugged me tightly to him. Our pricks were
up between our stomachs, pressed against each other.

"You feel so warm," I commented.

"You, too," he said. "I know we're going to enjoy
this." I reached between us and cupped his scrotum.
His warm fingers began slowly stroking my foreskin,
stretching it, twisting it, and testing its limits.

"That feels really good," I encouraged him.

"I really get off on foreskin," he said. "You've got a
long thick one, and I'll enjoy making you come by
stroking you. However, I'm going to need some lube for
mine." He let go of my penis and went into the house,
returning with a small plastic squeeze bottle. I took
it from him and held his penis in my other hand while
I squeezed lubricant onto the shaft and head, working
it in with my fingers and making him sigh in delight.

"I'll make you come this way," I said as I twisted my
fist around the forward end of his penis. He shuddered
and sighed, and grasped my penis again.

"I like the way your foreskin covers the head all the
way, even when you're hard," he said as he stroked it
back and forth gently. "I know the head's very
sensitive, so I'll go easy." I was now caressing his
penis in long, oily strokes, from the base to the
glans, knowing that each stroke added to his
excitement.

"We'll have to decide who comes first," I said. "It's
better if we come one after the other, instead of
trying to come together. I want to be able to
concentrate on giving you pleasure when you're
coming."

"Let's play it by ear and see how this develops," he
said as his fingers pushed my foreskin all the way
back off the head. "Our pricks are a lot like. We've
both got helmet shaped heads, and in this light they
both seem purple."

"They both seem to be about six inches long," I added.
"We've both got straight shafts, and we've each got a
big vein on the right."

"They're like twins, except that my foreskin's gone,"
he said ruefully. "I've always wished I still had my
foreskin."

"I'll be glad to share mine with you," I said.

"That's sweet of you," he replied. "I really enjoy
playing with it." He leaned over to kiss me on the
cheek.

"My balls are tight, but yours hang down a bit," I
said.

"Mine tighten up when I become excited," he said.
"They're about the same size as yours." His fingers
now stretched my foreskin forward over my glans,
stroking it sensually. I kept stroking his warm penis
in long slow caresses, from base to tip. After a few
minutes of silent slow stroking I spoke;

"Rich, you've got me really hot. I don't think I can
hold out much longer."

"I know you're close to coming. I can feel how the
head's swelled through the skin, and I can sense the
tension in your body." His fingers continued to move
my foreskin up and down my helmet as he spoke.

"You're right. Your magic fingers are really doing a
number on my prick."

"Here, sit down on the grass," he suggested. "Spread
your legs, and let me bring on your orgasm." I sat and
Rich crouched next to my right side, his penis almost
touching my side, and his hand clasped firmly around
the end of my hard shaft.

"I'll keep doing you while you make me come, okay?"

"Go ahead, Jack. My cock's not as sensitive as yours,
so I don't think I'll be coming for awhile. Anyway,
making you come is going to work me up a lot. I don't
think I'll be able to hold off much longer after I've
made you shoot." His fingers continued their insistent
stroking of my foreskin, pulling it back from my
swollen glans until it snapped down into the deep
groove behind my rim, and then pulling it forward
again to engulf the engorged helmet. I felt a light
tickling feeling begin in the head.

"You're really reaching me, Rich, and I know I'm going
to blast off soon." The tickling intensified, and my
legs began trembling slightly. My right fist still
enclosed his hardness, moving in slow strokes over the
lubricated surface.

"I'm going to slow down a bit, Jack, to let you enjoy
those last few seconds before you come." Rich was a
master at stimulating a penis, and understood the
extra pleasure in the last few moments of anticipation
before the onset of orgasm.

"You're making my tip tingle..." I said weakly as my
eyes closed. His other arm wrapped around my
shoulders.

"Just relax and let the feeling take you," he
whispered as his fingers brought me slowly closer to
the point of no return. I felt a slight throb deep in
my cock-root, a precursor of the fiery orgasm that
would soon consume me, and I shuddered.

"Ooooohhhhhhh..." I moaned as the sensations built up
in my groin. The tingling in my tip had become
powerful, absorbing all of my attention, and my
awareness of the outside world faded. My glans was
swollen, almost painfully so, and ached for release.

"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" I heard myself grunt as the heavy
pounding of orgasm began in my cock-root, ejecting a
hot torrent of cream into my urethra. The hot stream
burned its way up my tube, slamming through the lips
of my slit, and I cried out again. Another hot
contraction seized me, and I felt another jet of lava
shooting up through my penis, following the curve of
my urethra as it went up into my glans, before
erupting into the air.

"Go for it, Jack," he whispered in my ear as he held
me tightly and continued his delicious strokes on my
throbbing penis. I shot again, and when he pulled back
hard on my foreskin, baring the glans and stretching
the nerve endings, my cock-root convulsed again. Now
he let go, and my penis stood out proudly in the night
air, throbbing and releasing weakening dribbles of
sperm as my orgasm slowly ended.

"That was beautiful to see," he said as I sat dazed by
the systemic shock of orgasm. "I felt your cock throb,
and saw each jet shoot while you came." I opened my
eyes and saw that my cock was still erect, the big
helmet encircled by the thick foreskin collar behind
the rim. My right hand was still around his penis, and
I resumed caressing it. My left hand slipped my
foreskin forward to engulf my glans.

"Thanks, Rich, but now you sit down and let me do
you." I got to my knees and Rich sat where I'd been,
legs spread, while I continued to stroke his hard
penis. My other hand cupped his balls, gently kneading
the egg-shaped glands inside the sac.

"Watching and feeling you made me so hot..." he
trailed off as I tightened my grip around his hard
shaft and glans.

"Now it's your turn," I said as I gave his glans an
extra twist. I felt his penis throb in response, and
heard him grunt.

"I'm going to twist my fist right behind the head," I
explained. "I know you're most sen
sitive around your rim and the skin behind it, right
down to your scar ring." I took long strokes on his
penis, but gave my fist a hard twist as I reached the
area behind his swollen corona. My fingers rode over
the flare and continued down the tapered glans, until
my palm caressed the blunt nose, then I tightened my
fingers and began the reverse stroke, bumping over his
upturned rim.

"You know just how to do it," he grunted. Rich's
breathing was heavy now, and I knew he was close to
the brink. I kept kneading his sac with my left hand
while my right worked on his prick, following the
contours and caressing the nerve endings. I saw his
eyes close, and a moment later his outstretched legs
jerked.

"YAHHHHHHHHHH!" he yelled as the first wave of orgasm
overtook him. I felt the heavy throb in his cock just
before a thick white jet shot from his tip onto the
grass. He yelled again as another spasm convulsed him,
sending another torrent of cream to mix with mine on
the lawn. The throbs of his prick ran through my
encircling fingers as I twisted them around the sexy
flare of his glans to enhance his sensations.

After a couple more jets, I released his penis, as I
felt it might have become overly sensitive, and
watched his last dribbles pouring from his tip. He
sagged against me, and I held him tightly. When he
finally opened his eyes, he smiled at me.

"That was sensational," he began. "It felt like my
entire body was shooting out through my dick."

"You were really primed for it," I replied.

"I was, because you let me play with your foreskin and
make you come before starting on me. That was very
exciting for me, watching you come and stroking your
foreskin."

"It was nice for me when you did it," I said. "You saw
how hot my orgasm was."

"I guess as hot as mine." We slowly got up and soon
were again sitting side by side in the lounge chairs.

"Thanks for inviting me," I said.

"I'm glad you came, in both senses of the word," he
replied. "I really enjoyed the evening with you."

"I did too, and a lot of it was because you're a
really nice guy, Rich."

"So are you, Jack. I felt comfortable with you since
the first moment we spoke in the restaurant."

"I feel the same way about you."

"You have to stay the night, Jack. I want to wake up
tomorrow morning and see your face next to me on the
pillow."

"I'll be glad to, Rich."

"Good. Let's go to bed now. I think we both need
sleep." We shared his queen size double bed that
night, sleeping in each other's arms.

The end