Date: Sun, 3 Sep 2006 00:26:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: Fantastic Foreskin <doubleplusuncut@yahoo.com>
Subject: Coming Attractions

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This story is only half true, although I assure you that the juiciest parts
went down in real life, and the rest (namely the orgasms that SHOULD have
followed) most certainly occur every time I relive my memories of the time
I was bold enough to whip my dick out in the movie theater...

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The movie was lousy, some bullshit about a bunch of horny teenagers trying
to get laid, and I'd stopped paying attention about 10 minutes in. Instead,
I was watching Ben, who sat absent-mindedly rubbing his chest through his
grey workout shirt beside me, eyes transfixed on the screen, nipples
dimpling the smooth cotton surface.

It was hard to get a good look without turning my head, but I was
mesmerized by him. I was 19 then, still relatively inexperienced. Ben was
23, already two years out of college and gorgeous. His mouth hung open
slightly, lips pouty, profile illuminated by the light thrown back from the
screen, and I wanted to pull him toward me and kiss that beautiful face.
But our relationship wasn't like that.

This was our weekly ritual -- every Wednesday, Ben and I would meet at the
two-screen theater four blocks south of campus to catch a matinee. We'd see
whatever was playing, most times enjoying the theater to ourselves. When
the place was deserted, we'd prop our feet up and crack jokes the whole way
through. But not today.

An old guy sat a couple rows ahead of us. He laughed at everything, like it
was only yesterday when he'd been screwing a pie himself or whatever the
hell was going on in the movie. There were at least two couples, and way up
front, four high school kids (I doubt they were even old enough to see R
movies by themselves) sat jostling each other every time a pair of panties
crossed the screen.

I sympathized with them. Seeing movies with Ben always made me horny. He'd
talk about sex stuff with me all the time, but treated me like a younger
brother, and that drove me crazy. He only dated older guys, he said,
although he never seemed to have a boyfriend. I did everything within my
power to get his attention. I'd even teased him that I'd drop my shorts and
watch the movie naked the next time we caught a movie by ourselves, just to
see what he would say.

It's not like I'm porn-star huge or anything, but I've got a nice package,
and I wanted Ben to see it. I must have figured if he got a good look at
it, he wouldn't be able to resist -- the delusion all men harbor about
their equipment, I've since learned -- and I'd walked into the theater that
day determined to show it off.

There I sat, hating the movie, cursing the others in the theater for
spoiling my plans and trying to ogle Ben from the corner of my eye. He
laughed at some throwaway joke, and I stole the opportunity to glance over,
sizing him up, wondering if he had any idea what I was going through. His
eyes darted toward me for a second, before we both quickly turned our
attention back to the screen.

Earlier in the movie, he'd pulled one of those trademark moves where he
leaned back in his chair, reached his hands above his head and arched his
back in a completely natural and irresistibly sexy stretch. He was like a
god to me then, muscles flexing in the process, the lower hem of his shirt
hiked inches above his waist for me to admire abs made perfect from
countless hours of swimming. It made me want to reach over and dive my hand
into his loose-fitting powder blue athletic shorts, but of course I
resisted.

It only made things worse that his left elbow came to rest against my right
as he settled back into his seat. The contact triggered an instant erection
that thrust awkwardly against my khaki pants for the next half hour. Did he
notice? I wondered. The thing was so fucking obvious there in my lap, if he
had spotted it, there's no way he could have mistaken it for anything else.

I was happy to see him, all right. As the movie unspooled on screen, all I
could think about was the static charge between our arms as they touched. I
felt like an empty battery drawing power from this square-inch patch
between us, the energy throbbing through my boner below.

It took at least 10 minutes for my wood to subside after he shifted
position. Now, here he was casually exploring his toned chest with both
hands. I would have given anything to replace those hands with my own, but
he seemed oblivious to the anxiety this unconscious gesture was causing me.

He laughed again, and I leaned over. "I'm gonna do it," I whispered in his
ear.

He drew away from me, giving me a strange look. I'd clearly interrupted his
concentration (surely he couldn't be enjoying the movie that much), and all
he could manage was a confused "Huh?"

Without speaking, I mouthed the word "watch" and reached for my fly.
Suddenly it all clicked, that adorable face of his registering a mixture of
disbelief and surprise. I read it as encouragement, tugging my zipper down
in one quick, silent stroke.

His eyes grew wide, but never left my lap. A second later, my button was
undone, and I was lifting my ass to slide the pants down my thighs. I
nervously scanned the room in front of me, seeing only the backs of
heads. The rustling noise hadn't aroused the slightest suspicion from the
five or so people there.

Glancing back down, I couldn't help but notice how nicely my package seemed
to fill my jockeys, which seemed unusually bright in the semi-darkness.
When I get nervous, my dick has a nasty habit of shrinking up to its
smallest state, as if to embarrass me, but it was playing along now, partly
flushed with excitement.

I looked back at Ben before making the next move. He shook his head, a
half-hearted reprimand, but it seemed clear that he wanted me to
continue. So I did.

I curled my thumbs under the waistband and slowly peeled my soft cotton
briefs down and away from what my offering. Despite my excitement, my cock
still looked curiously dormant, the foreskin coyly hiding all but the
tantalizing outline of my head.

Suddenly self-conscious, Ben managed to break his gaze. Though he refused
to stare at me outright, he would sneak frequent glimpses between the
screen and my crotch as my dick started to stir. My own eyes moved back and
forth between my offering and Ben's face, doing my best to read his
reaction. I could feel the blood rushing south, engorging my cock in
unpredictable jerks, each burst my hot cockhead, nosing its way free from
my loose foreskin as the thickening crane arched away from my balls and up
towards my face.

When I'm hard, my dick reaches a sturdy seven inches and looks me dead in
the face (when I shoot, each volley blasts with such force, that I have to
turn away if I don't want to splatter my own eyes). I was hard in no time.

Ben's mouth had fallen open again. I wanted to pull it down onto my cock,
feel his slippery lips engulf me, but instead I reached downwards, wrapping
my cool right hand around the blazing-hot firmness of my shaft. I tipped it
forward so it pointed straight up and moved my hand up and down in a slow
jacking motion, admiring as the head emerged from its hood.

Ben tried to whisper something, but I couldn't make it out.

"What?" I asked, repeating the gesture.

"Put it away!" He repeated, but I shook my head No.

Instead, I ran my hands all the way down the shaft, rolling the foreskin
back slowly as I went. Reaching the base, I gripped the entire tool firmly
for him to see. The head looked big as it ever had, a polished helmet
shining in the dark. A shiver ran through me, and a dewy bead of precum
appeared at the tip.

Deciding to involve my left had in the act, I tapped the tip with a single
index finger, drawing a clear honey strand of the fluid away from the
sensitive pisshole.

I was getting into this now, showing off for this guy whom I craved so
badly. He reached over, cupping both hands as if to cover me, but I
intercepted them, guiding a trembling mitt down to my prize. He put up no
resistance, wrapping his nervous fingers around my cock in dutiful
compliance, taking a measure of its girth.

I flexed my cock and watched him smile as his hands registered the effect.
He squeezed me back, then slid his two-handed grip upwards, rolling the
silky sleeve of my foreskin forward as he moved.

"You're ... uncut," he said, letting a long, approving pause fall between
the words. "God, I wish I was uncut."

Watching him stroke me, I imagined him discovering his own lost foreskin.
He manipulated my tool as if it were his own, studying the way the extra
fold enveloped my eager head on the upstroke, then disappeared into the
shaft on the downward motion.

And then that annoying guy laughed again, a loud horsey bray in the dark,
and the reverie broke. Ben broke contact, letting his hands hover just
millimeters from the surface of my skin for a moment before pulling away
entirely.

"You're gonna get us thrown out," he whispered, but I did nothing to cover
up. Grabbing my dick, I milked it slowly, guiding my foreskin back and
forth with each measured stroke. Ben tried to look at the screen, but kept
glancing back, not wanting to miss the show. Rolling the foreskin up, I
pinched the lip of my cocksleeve between thumb and forefinger and pulled it
forward, the thick sausage bulging from its tight casing.

"Unngh, nice," he moaned involuntarily, a little too loud for the room. No
one noticed, and I continued my performance, letting my eyes fall to Ben's
own crotch.

He was enjoying this -- the evidence stood prominently outlined in his
nylon shorts. Ben had often bragged to me about his size. It came up in all
of his stories, the way his conquests worshipped his nine-inch tool. There
it was, a piece of lead pipe jutting in perfect relief against his shorts,
clear enough that I could easily confirm his circumcised status.

I had never felt this bold in my entire life, and yet I couldn't bring
myself to reach over and take him in my hands. It would have been so
easy. His boner was practically an open invitation, the shorts loose enough
that my hand could have started at his knee and found its way straight to
that impressive baton. I just couldn't cross that line -- I'd put
everything out there, and he had to make the next move.

The rest of the movie was a blur, me sitting there ravenously horny,
intermittently fondling my cock to keep it hard, him pretending not to
notice, but snickering lightly every now and then to let me know that he
approved. To this day, I couldn't tell you how that movie ended -- which of
the guys had gotten laid or how -- because I was too preoccupied trying to
read every twitch and sigh from the gorgeous guy to my right.

I do remember this: The lights came up fast when the movie ended. In the 45
minutes or so I'd sat there with my cock out, I'd somehow convinced myself
that this was perfectly normal, but suddenly I FELT naked. If it hadn't
been for a bunch of outtakes running over the end credits, the other
patrons would have discovered me for sure as I awkwardly tried to pull my
pants up over my underwear. I squirmed in my seat, trying to work my
jockeys back into place, and Ben started laughing harder than he had at any
point in the movie.

Those four high schoolers joined in, Ben's laughter igniting one last round
of guffaws over the credits, and we all stood up to leave, me picking my
underwear out of my ass crack.

"That was hot," Ben said, elbowing me as we shuffled to the door. Two steps
behind us, the kids laughed and repeated him.

"That was DAMN hot," they said, totally oblivious to the true meaning of
Ben's compliment -- or the lingering erection steering my way up the aisle.

We stepped into the sunlit lobby, and Ben veered left toward the men's
room. The small crowd pushed past us, but I followed Ben instead.

"I gotta take a leak," one kid told his buddies and shuffled off behind us.

Once inside, Ben was first to approach the trio of urinals and chose the
one on the right. They were big bowl-shaped numbers that stuck out from the
wall, crowded close together without any form of divider between them.

Not wanting to crowd Ben, I sidled up to the one on the left, and the kid
stepped up between us, unzipped and starting pissing right away. He looked
at the ceiling as he drained; Ben and I both looked down. I hadn't even
unzipped, afraid the kid would flip out if he saw my still-hard cock.

I couldn't see Ben without turning my head, but I knew that his eyes, like
mine, were fixed on this kid's cock. It wasn't just thick, but hefty
looking, like a dense, dark salami, bigger and browner than I would have
expected for a punk as pale as this. I envied how casually he handled it,
as if its size were nothing, and wondered whether it got much bigger when
hard.

The kid's stream trailed off as abruptly as it had started, and he gave the
whole thing a rough squeeze before stuffing it back in his pants. Without
acknowledging us in the slightest, he dusted his hands on his jeans and
brushed his way out the bathroom door.

Ben and I looked at each other, impressed. "THAT was hot," he said, beating
me to it, and I laughed, undoing my zipper. My dick tumbled out, half-hard
and level with the ground. I side-stepped toward Ben, straddling the urinal
beside him and looked down.

Ben's cock had reached a state of semi-arousal, pointing forward in the
same fashion as mine. He was definitely longer, I noticed, but thinner as
well, emphasizing that succulent maroon knob at the end.

"I, I can't piss," he said.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I didn't. I just reached over and
took hold of his dick, grabbing it down near the balls and sliding my hand
forward to that big plum-like head.

"Don't you ever think about getting caught?" he asked as I started to
throttle his cock. It had grown almost instantly in my grip, hooking left
as he hardened. The slight curve only made it easier for me to handle,
encouraging my vigorous stroking.

He moaned softly, the noise accompanied by a slick spill of precum from his
engorged piss slit. I caught the fluid with my fingers and spread it
generously over his shaft. The skin was tight, I noticed, entirely
different from mine, with almost no give. It seemed to pull fiercely away
from his head, as if they'd removed too much skin when clipping him as a
kid. The steady discharge of precum compensated nicely, providing ample
lube to keep him slippery.

I wanted this moment to last forever, but it didn't take long before he was
sputtering, "Uggh ... I'm ... gonna ..."

Ben was blasting before he could even reach the word "cum." The urinals
weren't the type to catch anything that shot up or out, and the sheer force
was enough to make him Jackson Pollock to the wall's dark canvas. His knees
sagged and his cock thrust forward as he came, blast after blast exploding
against the wall.

By the time the bursts calmed enough to fall directly into the bowl, Ben
was starting to squirm in my grasp. Though he'd required more stimulation
than my own uncut cock usually did, his nine-inch marvel seemed to have
become hyper-sensitive in the wake of his powerful orgasm. I reluctantly
let go, transferring my slippery hand to my own swollen erection.

Between our extensive foreplay and the excitement of watching "big Ben"
shoot under my guidance, I was already primed to erupt. I slicked the
foreskin back in a well-lubed gesture, and my entire dick throbbed
precariously in response.

"No, no, let me do it," Ben insisted. Though spent, his impressive dick had
lost almost none of its dimension. I followed it with my eyes as he turned
to face me.

"I'm close," I managed as he took me in both hands. With his left palm, he
cupped my balls; the right massaged my thick shaft, guiding the foreskin
back up with and sending me over the edge in the process.

I didn't mean to hit him in the chin, but that's exactly what happened as I
unleashed the thundering orgasm that had been building within me for the
previous hour. The next three shots blew well over his head (I doubt even
the janitor was able to find them later), and still Ben continued to work
my foreskin until he'd coaxed the very last gleaming drop from my satisfied
dick.

He had at least an inch on me when hard, but soft, his modest little
endowment looked almost demure. We stood there, eyeing one another's
equipment as our erections finally subsided enough to let us piss, and I
couldn't help but wonder what might happen the next time we got the theater
to ourselves.

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