Date: Sat, 8 Sep 2007 15:03:23 +0100 (BST)
From: Joe Ferns <martalgran@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Paul Calling John -  part  05

Peter takes up the story again from Paul's point of view ... I just
proofed it for him. I'll pass on to him any comments you send me -
and please tell us what you think.  If you want to contact Peter
direct, his email is with part 4 of the story...


I emptied out that bag of give-away clothes onto the couch in a
desperate attempt to find something to cover myself before Ben
would waltz into the family room.  Man, the stuff in there looked
like toddler clothes!  OK, I exaggerate; I actually did find a pair of
denims that I managed to pull halfway up to my waist.  But closing
the zipper was tricky with my pubes getting caught in it.  Good
thing I had trimmed them at least.  And a good thing my cock had
wilted to nothing, or it never would have fitted inside....

Well to my relief John managed to get rid of Ben, and it was only
John who walked back into the family room, joking about how great
my dick looked squeezed into the tight pants.  Actually he did more
than joke, he stretched out his hands to cup them.  Whoah!  The
mere gesture was making my cock rise to attention, a painfully
impossible manoeuvre in these ridiculously tight pants.  I had to
ward him off.  These pants were killing me.

"Do you want a hand, Paul?" John offered.

A hand to do what, tease my cock?  Am I right or am I right?  What
a joker he was.  I'm sure he could tell from the tight bulge in my
pants that more stimulation was the last thing my straight-jacketed
cock needed.  I was almost doubling over in discomfort as it was.

"Are you OK?" asked John.

I stepped back and mumbled "These pants are just too bloody tight
on me and you know it."

"That reminds me, gotta put our clothes in the dryer.  Just have a
seat for now." replied John.

Soon as John left I unbuttoned my pants, and then carefully
lowered the zipper while my expanding flesh flopped out.  Ouch!  I
lost a few pubic hairs in the process but luckily none of my skin got
caught up.  I felt a whole lot better after freeing up my expanding
member, and could even sit down, but still could not bend my knees
much.  Heck, we had seen each other naked so much already
today, I felt silly wearing these ill fitting pants in the first place.
John came back with two bowls of nuts and nutcrackers.

"Our stuff is in the dryer.  Crack me a few will yah?  Be right back,"
and with that he left again.

My annoyance at him walking out again disappeared when he
returned with another two open beer bottles.  Now I'm not in the
habit of drinking this early in the day.   OK, OK, so I'm not in the
habit of drinking, period. But I was not about to pass up hospitality
like this.  Sure our parents would not approve, but they weren't
here now, were they?  Today was a day of breaking rules, a day
when all the familiar rules had changed.

John looked a my open denims, how my shaft was sticking out, then
unbuttoned his own jeans, zipped down, and even fished out his
balls completely before sitting down.  Well if John could do that then
so could I.  I grabbed my own balls and pulled them out, clear from
the pants.

"There's a good little soldier," commented John, pointing at my
erect member.

"A good BIG soldier you mean," I quipped.

"Aye, aye commandant," answered John, tipping his hand to the
side of his head in salute.  His own cock was on the rise as well I
noted.

"Good to see the BOTH of you salute me," I joked, pointing back at
John's cock.

"Comrades in arms," said John.  "All we need is our helmets."
John grabbed one shell half of the walnut I had just cracked, and
before I realized what he was up to, he pushed it on top of my
boner.

"That's better, always wear protection."

My heart rate increased another ten beats per minute or so,
instantly.  I couldn't believe he had just done that, thought he had
just been kidding about handling my boner.  OK, so technically he
had not actually touched my dick, but he was getting awfully close.
To be honest, while we were joking around like this, I wouldn't have
minded touching John's boner, tit for tat.  Just natural curiosity,
about that circumcised head of his, looking soft and dry and so
exposed, so much different from my own boner.   The tip of my own
boner was still protected by my foreskin, so I tolerated the
somewhat sharp edges inside the nutshell without any real problem.
John's however, looked much more vulnerable.  Well, too bad for
him.  I grabbed the other half of the walnut shell out the bowl and
pressed it right on top on John's exposed head.  I half expected him
to yelp, but to his credit he took it like a man, without any protest,
a real soldier.

In the process I never did get to touch his boner, not with my bare
fingers.  Worse, my own mini helmet fell off as I reached over.
John picked it up and with amazing deftness put it back on with his
right hand, without that hand actually touching me, and all the
while keeping the helmet secured on his own boner using his other
hand.

"Learn from me sonny, a veteran never drops his helmet."

"You're just looking for an excuse to hold your boner."

"No, I can keep it on with no hands, see?" he boasted, and with that
he took his hand off and even stood up, tongue out of the corner of
his mouth, all the while keeping the walnut shell balanced on that
delicate, exposed tip of his.  And then he slowly circled the couch,
hands on his head, boner sticking out and not once dropping the
helmet.

"Tadam!" John yelled in triumph, then puffed up his chest, beating
on it and hollering like Tarzan of the apes, no longer paying
attention to the nutshell which now dropped to the ground.

I had never seen John like this, so deliciously uninhibited it was
almost surreal, could not quite believe we were really doing this.
With Ben maybe I could have believed something like this, although
not exactly like this.  Ben's antics were more crude than delightful,
boasting about his farts, or thinking nothing of scratching his bare
ass with his hands in his pants.  Once he even posed with
his hips out, showing off the outline of a boner to boys and gasping
girls alike.  But after John had sent Ben off, John was now revealing
a side of himself I had never seen, more daring and carefree  than I
ever had imagined.

Underneath it all it meant that he really trusted me, implicitly and
completely; he was like a snail out of its shell, totally vulnerable.
Well, that's how I see it in hindsight.  I really didn't know what to
make of John at the time, only that we were having a blast.  His
enthusiasm was ravingly infectious.
If John could be irreverent and wacky then so could I, or if not, then
I would go down trying.
Feeling perhaps a touch light-headed, I started getting off the couch
to mimic John's feat, but the walnut shell dropped off my boner as
soon as I got up.

"No, guess you can't do it," John said, picking up the shell.

I complained it was because of my knees; I could not possibly get
off the couch graciously when I couldn't even bend my knees in
these frickin' tight pants.  I stripped off the pants, snatched the
shell out of John's hand, planted it on my boner, and carefully
walked around the couch, a full circle without dropping it.  So there.
John applauded me.

"What are you wearing those silly pants for, take 'm off," I told him.
I can't believe I blurted that out.  But hey, when you're both acting
crazy, anything goes.  John just rolled with the punches.

"Alright, if it makes you feel better," he said, then stripped and
threw everything back in the charity bag.
Truth be told, it DID make me feel better, not being the only one
who was buck naked here, and John's butt actually was kind of...
what should I call it... cute?  I don't exactly want to call it
attractive, I mean, guys are not supposed to find guy butts
attractive, but John's...  John's body was pretty lean and muscular
most places, but in contrast his cheeks were round like balloons,
soft, a bubble-butt, I was thinking to myself, good enough almost to
squeeze...

Stop!  Mentally I had to slap myself.  Don't even go there.  This was
my lifelong friend we were talking about.  And what a friend he was,
now more than ever.  To be sitting with him here on the couch,
listening to the music, singing along here and there, beer in one
hand and the other hand on your crotch, balls hanging out... Call it
a guy thing.  Call it male bonding.  Call it your beer glass is empty
and I'll get us another one.  John was such a good buddy.  I had
never felt closer, never more comfortable with him.

Not that we were getting mushy or so.  On the contrary.  Our dicks
had settled again and I held up my nutcracker, threatening to crack
John's nuts.  He replied I wouldn't dare, but then he removed his
hand from his balls in a show of defiance, as if daring me to violate
him.  Well, I always had been a sucker for a dare, and I figured I
could tell when the other guy was bluffing.

Slowly, ominously, I opened and closed the nutcracker, then stuck
them right underneath John's balls, right under his left nut to be
exact, the one hanging down the lowest.   I pushed the steel
nutcracker up against that tender flesh, opened it wide, letting his
nut drop in, and then slowly, slowly, starting to squeeze it closed...
Let me tell you, if it had been MY nuts in the cracker, I'm sure I
would have jumped and made a run for it.  I must admit to being
totally overawed by John's nerves of steel, his cool in the face of
imminent castration.  No guy could trust another THAT much, not
with his family jewels!

However, as I closed the nutcracker millimetre by millimetre, his
left nut just got pushed up and out of the nutcracker again.  Lucky
for him.

The fate of John's nut, wondering how far he would let me go before
jumping out of reach, it had all been such a cliffhanger, that in the
excitement I had forgotten about my own dick, and it had
wilted in the process.  Face it, your private nuts in a nutcracker,
there's nothing sexy about it, it's just plain dangerous.  Looking
down at my deflated dickie, I actually felt a little relieved that I
was able to play these naked games with John without necessarily
getting an erection, well you know, at least SOME of the time it was
down.  John's dick too, wasn't any stiffer than a wet towel after this
ordeal now.

His bluff had withstood the test.  I dropped the cracker and was
about to compliment his bravery, quite sincerely, but John jumped
up impatiently and roared,
"Now it's my turn!  Don't move; I didn't either."

What had I started?  I had to sit still and watch as John put the
cracker not under my nuts but around my dick, and slowly started
closing it.  For someone who was still not touching my dick
he sure was getting close. Predictably enough, it was rising up
again, even if it was only steel that touched it.  John opened up the
cracker to allow for the expansion, but never let his grip go entirely.
Instead, he pushed his implement down towards the base of my
cock, pulling back my foreskin in the process, exposing my
glistening head.  Then he released the cracker's grip on my shaft
and slid it up to my exposed sensitive head.

"Ouch!" I said, and pushed John away.
For a second John hesitated as if contemplating some new attack,
but then he thought better of it.
He didn't even say I had lost the dare.  Instead he just grabbed our
empties, and said he had to go take a leak.  By the time he came
back with more beer, my dick had settled again.

As John sat down his foot touched mine.  I noticed how much better
his foot looked compared to my own.  My feet looked pale and
almost blueish.  John's feet were tanned and solid like a marble
sculpture.
"Your feet are beautiful" I blurted out, and then bit my tongue at
how awkward that sounded. But John was not put out by my
remark in the least.  He raised that beautiful foot of his, all the way
up to my crotch.

"And your dick is beautiful" he replied, patting it with the ball of his
foot.  And with that touch, it rose up once again, instantly.

"Look, I made it stand up," he boasted.

"It's easy to make it stand up, the hard part is getting down," I
grumbled.  Not that I was embarrassed about my boner.  Not with
John.  Not anymore.  We were WAY past that stage. And besides,
John's own pecker was rising up again too.

"If you want it to go down all you have to do is move around a
little" advised John.  By way of demonstration, he got up, and
starting jumping around to the beat of the music.  It was a fast
song and his dick did settle down.

"Is that supposed to be dancing?" I asked, confident I could do
much better myself.

"Alright you show-off, lets see YOU dance," John challenged me.

So I got up on my feet, did my fancy steps and swayed my hips and
shoulders, the whole nine yards, really getting into the groove of
things.  John, he tried to copy me and all but tripped over his own
feet. Very BEAUTIFUL feet, mind you. (Did I mention that before?)
Anyway, to steady himself, John ended up dancing with his hands
on my shoulders.  In return, I put my own hands on John's hips, it
just felt right and John didn't seem to mind.  Whatever inhibitions
we might have had already had vanished a couple of beers ago. We
were just dancing away, heads down, watching each other's dicks
sway with every step we took.

At first they swayed freely, then a little more stiffly as they started
to swell, and in the end not at all as they arose once again to rigid
attention.  Up, down, up, down and up again, it was a game our
dicks had been playing all morning long.  Sure I was already used
to getting lots of erections, being the hormone charged teenager I
was.  But I'm certain I had never lived yet through a morning with
this many ups and downs, and certainly never a morning in the
presence of a fellow naked body, with not only our dicks going up
and down, but also the blood pressure, the rush, the mix of fear
and anticipation rising and ebbing time and again.  That queasiness
in my stomach, it wasn't just the beer, I knew.

The song had ended but John just kept one hand on my shoulder
and with the other he reached for my shaft and pushed down my
foreskin using his thumb and index finger.  The touch of his skin on
my skin was electrifying.  I almost swooned as we stood there, both
of us looking down at our heads, mine more pointy and completely
wet, John's mushrooming out and mostly dry, with just
a single bead of moisture at the slit of his blunt tip.

Next came a slow song.  John stepped up closer, his arms snaking
around my neck, my own hands falling down to his soft butt.  As
our bodies pressed together, the sensitive tip of my boner
brushed past John's soft mushroom head, and our firm shafts
pressed between our bellies.  The music might have slowed but my
heart was speeding up, pounding in my throat.

It happened.  Just like that.  Jizz gushed out of my dick.  Literally
gushed.  And again.   The world was turning black behind my eyes
and spinning and I had to keep holding on to John to keep from
fainting and falling.  There was a wet mess on my belly and on
John's belly and probably on the floor too.  It should have
embarrassed the hell out of me but I was too dazed.
John, he was very sweet about the whole thing, gently lowered me
onto the couch, got the box of paper tissue, wiped the both of us
and told me to rest...