Date: Fri, 28 Jun 2013 10:41:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Foreskin Sessions, Part 1, Beginnings

Foreskin Sessions, Part 1

By Jackinnm1@yahoo.com

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     I was on vacation in San Francisco that week and a casual acquaintance
invited me to a garden party put on by one of his friends. I arrived
promptly at the appointed time, not "fashionably late," as I believe that
keeping people waiting is not sophisticated, but very egotistical. Not
surprisingly, it was an all-male gathering, and soon another fellow came up
to me. He seemed to be about 30, my age, but slightly shorter than my six
feet, and slightly chunkier than my slender build. We both had brown hair
and eyes.

     "I'm Greg. I see we have the same taste in beer," he began, holding up
a bottle of Corona in his right hand. I clinked my bottle against his and
replied:

     "I'm Jack. To your health," I replied. He smiled, and I saw his eyes
flick down momentarily, checking me out. I think he was disappointed
because I always wear loose clothing. Checking the other guy's "package" is
so common in this sort of gathering that I did not hesitate to look down at
his crotch.  Unlike me, he was wearing skin-tight pants, and probably no
underwear, because the outline of a large, helmet-shaped glans showed
clearly through the thin fabric.

     "Like what you see?" he asked, smiling. I nodded affirmatively and
said:

     "Looks like you're circumcised, but that's common these days."

     "I'm not, but I have a big tip," he said as he moved closer to me and
slid his left hand between us. Nobody seemed to notice this furtive
movement and if anyone had, they probably wouldn't have cared. I felt his
fingers close around my prick through the fabric as he said: "Just want to
get an idea of what you have," he said. "Feels like you have a big tip
too. You cut? I can't tell through this cloth."

     "I'm not either," I replied.

     "That's three things we have in common," he said as he gave my prick a
squeeze.  "Feels like you're a grower too, like me. Another thing we have
in common." I ran my fingertip over the outline of his corona, protruding
through the fabric.

     "If we're going to keep that up we'd better go someplace," I murmured
so that nobody else would hear. I had to admit he was attractive, and he
obviously thought the same of me. "How about my hotel room, Greg? It's just
a five-block walk." His smile broadened.

     "Sounds good," he said. We quickly finished our beers and left the
party, after saying goodbye to the host. During the walk he asked me:

     "Are you here on vacation? I am." I nodded. He continued:

     "How come you're not cut? Were you born overseas?"

     "No, I was born in the States. My father was from Italy, where they
don't cut boys, and he didn't let the doctor cut me. How about you?"

     "Just the opposite. My father was born here and he was cut. He didn't
like it so he made sure I didn't get cut. The doctor really wanted to do
it, but my father's a lawyer, and told him if I didn't come home from the
hospital with everything I'd been born with, he'd sue his ass off. Anyway,
I'm glad we met. Cut guys don't always know how to handle an uncut
cock. Some of them are too rough."

     "I know what you mean," I agreed. "I've had a couple of bad
experiences too. They don't know what to do with the foreskin. They just
want to push it back out of the way."

     "Same with women," he added. "They don't have pricks so they don't
know how to handle them, cut or uncut."

     Once inside my room we began undressing. As it was summer, we wore
light clothing, and were naked within a minute He inspected my crotch
appraisingly and said:

     "You've got a long thick foreskin, with even a nipple at the end. I
like the way it dangles from the end of your dick." I noticed that his
foreskin was thin, covering only his glans and ending in a tight pucker at
the end.

     "Well, that's one point of difference", I said. "Our balls are about
the same size, and they hang down about the same." I reached out and cupped
his scrotum in my fingers as he grasped my foreskin nipple between two
fingers and began twisting it gently. We both responded to the stimulation
and our pricks began to swell.

     "I like the looks of a heavy-ended prick," I told him. "With a big
tip, it swings to and fro when you walk." I gave his big helmet a couple of
gentle squeezes through the thin foreskin.

     "That's my feeling too," he said. Our pricks were about half-hard by
now, and his helmet began to grow out of his foreskin, revealing a long
slit parting the bulbous front dome. His rich musky aroma filled the air.

     "Your tip's a rich purple color, like mine," I told him. "I like that
long slit too. Do you shoot or dribble?"

     "Oh, I shoot, but not as far as when I was 16," he replied. "I bet you
shoot too, unless you keep your skin tight over the end." I nodded in
agreement. I felt his engorging prick twitch with each squeeze of his
glans. A drop of clear viscous liquid parted the lips of his long slit.

     "I feel like I have to pee, with that beer I drank," I told him. "I'm
going to hold it, though, because I found a full bladder makes my orgasm
more intense because of the tension." By now our pricks were fully erect,
and Greg's foreskin just barely covered his flaring corona.

     "That's true for me, too," he said. "Our hard-ons look about the same
size, except for that nipple of skin still sticking out in front of your
helmet. Does it go back or is it too tight?"

     "It just looks tight, but it stretches," I said. "Go ahead, push my
foreskin back, you'll see it goes all the way back." I felt a delicious
friction as his strong fingers gently pushed my foreskin back, increment by
increment, gradually revealing my glossy purple helmet. Greg inhaled deeply
and said:

     "Oh, that's nice! I like the smell. Your slit pouts like a teardrop!
Not many guys are like that." He gave my foreskin a final push and it
snapped down into the deep groove behind my ridge.

     "See?"  I asked. "Our pricks are about the same, six inches from base
to the end of the helmet." He spoke again:

     "Yours has a big vein down the right side. My big vein is on
top. You're got a beautiful foreskin. Even though your skin is long, it
stays back because it locks behind your high ridge. I'd really love to get
your big helmet in my mouth." I gently pushed him down on the bed and got
into a "69" position with him. He pulled my foreskin forward and inserted
his tongue into the nipple, making me gasp.

     "You like that?" he asked as my lips closed around his hot
helmet. "There aren't many of us uncut guys around, and I've only seen one
with a long skin like yours before."

     "Did you do the same thing to him, Greg?"

     "Yes, and he loved it when I pushed my tongue inside his skin and ran
it around the tip." He insinuated his tongue deep into my nipple and I felt
his tongue-tip probing my orifice. I pushed my tongue into his long slit,
tasting the salty viscous lubricant that he was seeping. My lips were
around his flaring ridge, and I ran my tongue over the broad upper surface
of his helmet.

      "If I come in your mouth, will you swallow or spit it out?" I
asked. As I spoke I saw his scrotum tighten against his body. He paused
fior a moment and said:

     "Oh, I'll swallow. You will too, I think."

     "Yes, I'll swallow. One thing, though, let's not come at the same
time. I want to be fully aware when you shoot your load."

     "I'm with you," he agreed. I clamped my fingers hard against the base
of his shaft to constrict the veins and make his erection harder. I wanted
to simulate the final swelling that takes place just before orgasm. He
continued to run his tongue around inside my hood, tickling the frenulum
and then running it around the circumference of my corona. My scrotum
contracted in response.

     I began working my mouth up and down his glans, pulling his foreskin
forward each time I withdrew to bump his ridge and add to his
excitement. This was the "killer stroke" that always brought on orgasm
quickly, and I heard his breathing become shallow and rapid. The intense
sensations in his prick distracted him, and he wasn't working his tongue as
vigorously around my helmet as he had been. His abdomen tensed and his legs
began to tremble as the tension built up in his body. He removed his mouth
from my prick.

     "Oh, you're sucking the life out of me!" he wailed. I continued my
two-way stimulation, building up his excitement, and heard him murmur: "I'm
getting a tingle in my tip." A couple of seconds later, his prick throbbed
hard and a hot jet shot onto my tongue as he grunted loudly:

     "HUNH!  HUNH! HUNH!" He was totally gripped by the orgasm, and a
second later his prick throbbed again between my lips and another torrent
of hot sticky fluid shot down my throat. The salty taste tickled my
tongue. He bucked his hips, crying out helplessly and driving his prick
deeper into my mouth. I lost my grip on his foreskin but it didn't matter
now that his orgasm was in full flight. He grunted again and his throbbing,
thrusting prick discharged another stream down my throat.

     His entire body was shuddering as his prick blew another gush down my
throat, and I found myself swallowing hard to keep up. He was very noisy,
but I was glad of it, because it meant that he was coming hard under my
intense stimulation. With another hard throb, his prick gushed again,
filling my mouth with sperm, and I swallowed hard. I felt another throb
against my tongue and palate, but this one was weaker and he merely seeped
a few drops. His prick twitched a few more times, and became still. I ran
my fingertip along his urethra, from behind his balls and all the way up
his haft to the delta where the two halves of his corona met on the
underside, forcing out the residue. His prick began to soften and I
delicately slipped his foreskin up to protect the precious head.

     Greg lay still for a minute, and then his eyes fluttered open. He was
coming out of his daze.

     "That was really hot. I'm so glad we met," he said.

     "I'm glad I was able to make you blast off so hard," I countered. "I
enjoyed your orgasm almost as much as you did." His soft prick was now
shrunken down to how it was when we'd first undressed, but mine was still
fully hard, because of the excitement of watching and feeling his orgasm.

     "You were really good, pumping my foreskin while you sucked my
helmet," he told me. "That double stroke just pulled the juice out of me."
I felt his finger wrap around my shaft again, and he began to stroke me,
lightly and gently. After a few long strokes he pulled my foreskin all the
way forward and again slipped his tongue inside the nipple, tickling my
pouting orifice. I felt a tickle deep inside me as a drop of lubricant
began crawling up my urethra. I sighed.

     "That feels so nice," I murmured. His tongue now probed deeper,
tickling my thick frenulum and caressing the circumference of my
corona. More clear viscous fluid crawled up my tube, seeping onto his
tongue. He pulled back momentarily and said:

     "I can taste your salty lube. It's smooth and delicious." He returned
to probing my foreskin, holding it fully forward with one hand while
cupping my balls with the other. My scrotum was tight against my body, and
I felt his fingers gently kneading the two orbs within, adding to the
stimulation.

     Now he pulled back, pulling his tongue out of my hood, and said:

     "I want to make it last for you. I'm glad you made me come so quickly
because I really needed to unload, but it'll be more intense for you when
you finally come if we take our time." His lips closed on my foreskin,
pushing it back off the glans, until it snapped down into the groove. His
tongue tickled my gee-string.

     "That's my hot spot," I whispered. "It feels nice." He pulled away
again and I felt his fingers pushing my foreskin back hard, putting tension
on my frenulum's rich nerve endings.

     "Pulling back on your skin makes the front of your helmet dip," he
said. "Mine does that too, if you pull back on my fren." He gave it a few
gentle tugs and then enveloped my helmet with his warm lips. I enjoyed
listening to his running commentary on what he was doing, as it enhanced my
excitement. He began a back-and-forth pumping motion with his lips while
rhythmically tugging on my gee-string. It was different from my "killer
stroke" but just as arousing. The friction of his lips on my nerve-rich
corona, combined with his stretching the nerve endings in my frenulum was
proving to be intensely stimulating.

     "Oh, you'll make me come quickly this way," I moaned. He stopped for a
moment and said:

     "You're right. I'll go slower." He stopped tugging on my gee-string
and returned to working his lips over my entire helmet, clasping my ridge
and then pulling back, his lips tightening along the taper of my glans.

     "It'll be nice if you tug on my gee-string when I start coming," I
suggested.

     Okay, I'll do that. Does your tip get super-sensitive when you come?
Mine used to."

     "Mine used to, when I was a kid, but now you can keep stroking me all
the way through."

     "Good," he replied. "That'll make it feel extra hot for you." His lips
continued their wet caress along my glans, and now he twisted his head when
he reached my corona, giving me the delicious sideways friction that
heightened my sensations.

     "Man, you're good," I said. "You know exactly what to do to make my
prick feel good."

     "Good thing we got together," he murmured, momentarily pausing in his
action.  "We know what makes each other's dick feel good." His lips
tightened around my helmet again as he resumed the wet friction that was
driving me towards climax. I felt my prick hardening even more from the
inrush of blood.

     "Your head's swelling and it's getting harder," he whispered. "You're
getting close." Now he increased his pace, pumping my glans hard with his
lips while gently kneading my scrotum. He rotated his head, and I felt his
lips slide along my flaring ridge. More lube seeped from my orifice,
coating his tongue.


     "Yeah, close," I whispered. My breathing was now shallow and rapid, as
I neared the point of no return. My abdominal muscles tightened. Now his
fingers pulled back along my shaft, stretching my gee-string again, and my
legs began to tremble. I was also aware of the pressure of my full bladder
increasing my body's tension.

     Greg was really into it now, caught up in the excitement as he worked
his lips and fingers over my rock-hard prick. Each stroke, each caress,
brought me closer to the point where I'd tumble over the brink into the
free-fall of orgasm. My mind was focused on the delicious, captivating
sensations in my groin, and I gradually withdrew from the world outside my
body.

     I felt a tickle start in my corona, and knew that I was starting to
slide over the edge. My eyes closed as the tickle became more intense,
spreading over my glans until it changed to a hot tingle. I knew Greg
sensed this, because he was now going faster, and it was having its
effect. Hot sparks of sensation stabbed deeply into my helmet as my prick
throbbed and I cried out:

     "AH!  AH! AH!" as the first gush of hot sperm seared its way up my
urethra.  Another mind-numbing throb gripped my straining penis as a second
load bolted out of my orifice into his mouth. My helmet was throbbing so
hard it seemed almost at bursting point, and my entire body was shuddering
with the pulses of orgasm. Greg's lips tightened into the groove behind my
flaring ridge as he tugged down on my gee-string, sending another hot
thrill into my prick, resulting in another deep throb that sent a third jet
shooting up to erupt from my tip.  My helpless cries filled the room as my
hips bucked and another load hurtled up the length of my prick to pour from
my pouting meatus. I felt Greg's lips rotate around my bulging corona as
another spasm gripped the root of my prick, sending another hot stream
rushing through my distended urethra and jetting from my tip.

     Greg was still pumping and stroking my prick, but now it just twitched
as a few residual drops seeped from the hole in the front of my glans. I
felt his fingertip pressing into my urethra, starting behind my scrotum,
pushing the last few drops towards the end. I felt very weary from the
intensity of the orgasm as a daze crept over me. My prick began to soften
as my breathing returned to normal and the tension left my body. Greg's
tongue lapped away the seepage from my orifice and his skilled fingers
pulled my foreskin forward to cover the shrinking helmet.

     Sometime later I opened my eyes to see him staring at me.

     "I've got to tell you, you really came hard," he informed me. "I think
you came harder than I did."

     "Yeah, guess I did. I hope you enjoyed it."

     "Oh, I enjoyed making and watching you come, feeling your big tip
throbbing against my tongue. Your juice has a Clorox taste, did you know
that?"

     "I know, Greg. I've smelled it before and other guys have told me
about it. Did that bother you?"

     "Oh, no, not at all." As he answered me, I became aware of the
pressure in my bladder, and struggled to get up.

     "Gotta pee," I told him, and we went into the bathroom, where we stood
side by side at the sink. I grasped my prick, retracting my foreskin
halfway down the glans to make sure my hole was clear, and did the
same. Our thick yellow streams started at the same moment, and crossed in
mid-air as they fell into the sink to blend and swirl down the drain. Our
arms were around each other's waists as we drained ourselves. When we'd
finished, we milked our pricks to force out the last drops and pulled our
foreskins fully forward again.

     "I really like your dick, with that long skin," he said once we were
back sitting on the edge of the bed. "Nature was good to you."

     "I like your prick too, and your technique," I assured him.

     "I think we're really compatible," he concluded. I nodded assent and
we embraced.

     "You might as well stay the night," I suggested. "It's too late to get
dressed and go to your hotel." He nodded and we lay down together, falling
asleep in each other's arms.

Continued in Part 2