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This story contains adult sexual content and should not be read by those under 18, or considered minors in their country or locale. If you are under 18: CLICK HERE
This fictional story is the artistic expression of the author who wrote it. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this story, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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Chapter One: What ever happened to…
It was something that had been on my mind for much of the summer, but I hadn’t mentioned it to my son until the day he was heading off to college. I tried to be as casual and distant as possible when I broached the subject while we drove out to the University of Buffalo, where he would be starting his freshman year of college, not wanting to expose my more than casual interest.
“What ever happened to Marc?” I asked in a flip manner while the seemingly endless trip along the interstate droned on. “I didn’t see him all summer, and you two were always joined at the hip.”
“Fucking faggot!” my son blurted out, and the ferocity of his reply almost made me lose control of the car and the little U-Haul we were towing behind us.
“What?” I asked after regaining control of the vehicle.
“Sorry,” he said, apparently just then realizing how loud and strident his answer had been. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh,” I said, but after a few minutes of awkward silence, he did want to talk about it.
He told me about how after they had dropped their Senior Prom dates off, Marc had made a pass at him. More than a pass, I guess, but more like a grab of his crotch.
“I should have known he was a queer,” my kid said. “He never really went after girls like he wanted them. They were more like friends. When I think about all those times we spent together, the times he saw me naked, and the times we even slept in the same bed…”
I watched my son shudder as he let his voice trail off, and I was very disappointed in his reaction for a couple of reasons. The first being that I had hoped he had been raised to be a more tolerant person, and would have been more forgiving toward a friend that had been like a brother to him all those years.
The second reason I was saddened was that he didn’t realize that the man sitting next to him, his father, could have easily fit all the derisive words that he had applied to his former friend. Queer. Faggot.
Chapter Two: Fighting the feeling.
My wife was aware of my bisexuality when she married me over twenty years earlier. Bisexual barely described my sexual experiences prior to meeting Kara. I had been with only a couple of women before meeting and falling in love with the woman that would become my wife.
How many men? I couldn’t say with any degree of accuracy, and I’m not especially proud of the fact that even during a very promiscuous age, I could have been described as extremely promiscuous. I was a poster boy for the phrase “young, dumb, and full of cum”, and although back in the 70’s it was a very different and MUCH safer time to live that lifestyle, it was still very reckless on my part, and I’m lucky to have made it through healthy and wiser.
Chapter Three: Marc.
After helping my son move into his room at college, I spent the entire six hour ride home thinking about Marc. I wasn’t shocked over the revelation that he was gay, because I had suspected as much from the first time I had seen him. I was sorry about what had gone down between the two former friends, and had to admit to myself that part of the sadness I was feeling was because I wouldn’t be seeing him around our house any longer.
My mind went back to that day when Marc had come along with the rest of our family for a picnic at a State Park near our town. It was just before their Prom incident must have occurred. While my wife and son set up the picnic table, I had gone to the beach house with Marc to change into bathing suits.
When we got into the changing area, I was a little surprised at how open the area was. Usually, this kind of place would present a visual feast for me anyway, but the prospect of changing next to my son’s best friend was an added treat.
Marc was a very slight young man, and at around 5’7″ was a couple of inches shorter than me. I have a fairly slender build, but Marc was even thinner, and his body was very athletic. Marc had just gotten a full-ride scholarship to our local college for his swimming prowess, and it showed.
Marc undressed very slowly, and I was certain that it was because I was standing next to him. I felt a tad strange getting naked next to Marc, but I was certain that once he got a glimpse of my body, he would feel less self-conscious about his own.
When I got naked and fumbled around with my trunks, I could see his eyes looking over at me. Like just about everyone else who had ever seen me naked, I saw the familiar double take when he saw my genitals, but I pretended not to notice while I took my time putting on my trunks.
Years ago I had stopped being ashamed of myself when others would see me naked. Part of that came from the fact that a lot of men, mostly older men, were quite attracted to me just as I was. This gave me the confidence to let it all hang out, even though in my case, what “hung out” wasn’t even 4 inches long when erect, and less than half that limp. I wasn’t blessed with thickness to make up a little for my shortcomings, and that, combined with my almost total lack of body hair, made me crown myself with the title, “The Man that Puberty Forgot”.
Marc continued to undress while I fiddled first with the string that held up my trunks, and then with folding my clothes. Marc’s body was nearly as smooth as my own, and as his hairless chest became exposed my eyes traveled down to his stomach with his well-defined abs.
I almost felt guilty in continuing to look as his pants came off, but kept on looking anyway. When the underwear came down, I saw the tiny tuft of jet black pubic hair first, and while that was expected, what came next wasn’t.
My jaw might not have hit the ground when Marc’s briefs did, but it couldn’t have been far behind. I was dumbstruck as my eyes got sight of Marc’s cock, almost refusing to believe what I was seeing.
To put it bluntly, little Marc was hung like a horse. His beige cock swung down between his legs like an elephant’s truck. Incredibly thick at the base, it tapered somewhat as it reached the glans, which was long and conical in shape. Behind his flaccid hose, a pair of nice-sized balls hung loosely in a hairless, wrinkled sac.
I snapped out of my trance when I realized that Marc had noticed me staring at him, but if it had bothered him, he didn’t seem to let it show, and he proceeded to take his sweet time getting his trunks on as well.
Why should he hide himself, I thought to myself while I mumbled something before securing my stuff in a locker and hustling out to the beach. If I had that equipment on me I’d walk around flaunting it every chance I got.
I felt like an idiot for having stood there naked next to this kid, trying to make him feel less embarrassed about having what I had assumed to be a build similar to mine, when it turned out that not only wasn’t 18 year old Marc a kid chronologically any longer, he certainly wasn’t physically either.
For the rest of the day, no matter how much I tried not to, whenever I saw Marc, my eyes went to his trunks. The tan trunks were baggy and revealed nothing, yet when I looked at him, it was as if they weren’t on him at all. All I could see was that incredible cock swinging lazily between his legs.
While this vision might have made the long drive pass by in a more interesting manner, it gave me a boner that was stuck to my underwear when I finally made it home. Kara having already fallen asleep, I tiptoed through the quiet house and went down to the den, where I slowly stroked my dick while reclining on the couch.
I came quick and I came messy, spouting cum all over my chest and stomach. Because I was so exhausted from the driving, I feel asleep right after that, which would have made for an interesting sight had my nap lasted until morning when my wife got up.
Instead, I woke up a half hour later, with the cum hardened on my body and my dick hard again from having dreamed of you-know-who. It took only a minute for me to pop another load all over myself, an orgasm much less messy but no less satisfying than the first one, and only then did I get up and head into to bed after a brief trip to the can to wipe myself down.
“Mm,” Kara cooed, scrunching up next to me when I got into bed, grabbing at my drained little pecker. “Missed you.”
“I’m dead,” I told her, blaming the 12 hours of driving for my lack of response, and soon dropped off while dreaming it wasn’t Kara’s hand on my dick.
Chapter Four: Swim meet.
I found a seat in the bleachers on the side of the pool in the humid University rec center and leafed through the program, looking for his name before finally finding it way down toward the bottom of the page. Marc swam the 100 meter freestyle, and was also listed in the 100X4 relay, but both were much later in the event, so I had to sit through almost the entire meet before Marc would appear.
Strangely enough, I was not aroused while looking at all the swimmers parading around in their very brief swimsuits. I had never been attracted to that type of man, having always been drawn to older, hirsute guys, and that description fit none of these men.
I was beginning to think that I had just been in a strange mood that day in the changing room when I saw him. Marc appeared from out of the locker room to begin to warm up, and as he went into the water a few times to loosen up, I felt myself getting hard already. My eyes kept traveling down his lithe and lean torso, always stopping at the minuscule trunks, as I tried to figure out how he could fit his package in them without revealing how well endowed he was.
He was dwarfed by most of the other swimmers, who all seemed much taller and more physically mature than he did, and I felt bad for him, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass himself when his chance came.
As it turned out, I needn’t have worried, because he finished 3rd in his individual event despite a slow start, and swam a middle leg in the relay which his team won. Not a bad showing at all, especially for a freshman who was competing against older swimmers, and I was as proud of him as I would have been for one of my own.
After the event ended, I went down to pool-side where the families and friends of the competitors were milling around their loved ones. Marc was talking with a swimmer from one of the other schools when he caught my eye, and his eyes lit up when he saw me, and hurried over to greet me.
“Mr. Wells!” he gushed excitedly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Hey, gotta support the local school,” I said as he gave me a brief hug. “I happened to see this event listed in the paper, so I thought I’d come cheer you on.”
“Awesome!” Marc said.
“Look, would you like to grab a cup of coffee or something?” I asked, looking around for his folks.
“Love it!” Marc said. “Give me about ten minutes to shower, okay?”
“Of course,” I said, and watched as he hurried into the locker room.
I stood patiently outside the arena, trying to compose myself while Marc changed. I felt like a predator, probably feeling a whole lot like the men that wanted me back when I was 18 felt like. It’s not the same these days, I kept telling myself. 18 in 2009 isn’t like 18 was in 1973, and my interest wasn’t based on anything like those men had in me.
“He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man” I mumbled to myself, as I saw him walking toward me with his gym bag in hand, wearing a black satin sweat suit and a big smile.
Chapter Five: Chatting.
I offered to take Marc out to dinner, but he declined, telling me that he had to watch his weight, so instead we found a booth in a Starbucks just off campus and had a couple of cups of coffee.
“Imagine finding a Starbucks so close,” I said with a grin as we made ourselves comfortable.
“Yeah, there isn’t another one on this side of the street for another couple of blocks,” Marc quipped, and after we exchanged small talk for a while, he asked about my son.
“Todd? He’s doing well,” I said. “Of course, getting news out of you kids is like pulling teeth.”
“Glad to hear that,” Marc said as he blew on his coffee.
“When I drove him out to school,” I said slowly, measuring my words carefully. “I asked him why I hadn’t seen you all summer.”
“Yeah, and he… told me about what happened,” I admitted, watching the flush of color come to Marc’s cheeks.
He looked so young and innocent, sitting there kitty-corner to me in the booth. His smooth baby face, with his short spiked black hair, made him seem younger than his years, and I suspect that I saw a lot of myself in Marc at that age, with a few very obvious differences.
“Oh,” Marc said with a great deal of difficulty. “Yeah. Guess I screwed up big time.”
“Who doesn’t?” I told Marc. “If I had a hard a dollar for every mistake I made at your age…”
“Yeah, but this one was major,” Marc said. “I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”
“Give him time,” I told Marc. “I think that he’ll get over it eventually.”
We looked into our coffee cups for a few moments before I spoke again.
“Does anybody know?” I asked. “About you being gay, I mean?”
“No, I mean, I’m not gay,” Marc protested, looking around as he spoke quietly. “I’m just… confused. I like girls too, it’s just that… I don’t know what I mean.”
“You’re young,” I told him. “You’re still trying to figure everything out. If you like men and women, then you’re probably bisexual. Nothing wrong with that.”
Marc shrugged and went back to toying with his coffee. He started to say something but stopped and went back to staring into his cup.
“Let me tell you a story,” I said finally. “It’s about this guy who was about your age. He was confused too. He was insecure about himself, and was very insecure about his body. He liked girls, but they didn’t seem to feel the same towards him. He had a really bad experience with the first girl he had been with, so he was as miserable as could be.”
“Sounds familiar,” Marc whispered.
“He had an experience with a man, an older man, and the man was so kind and so understanding, that the guy began to feel better about himself. He had a bunch of experiences with other older men, and they were almost all wonderful. Eventually, he met a wonderful woman and they got married and had a great life, with kids and everything.”
“Maybe that’s what I should do,” Marc said. “This other guy – was that you?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Does Mrs. Wells know?”
“She knows that I had experiences with men,” I told him. “She doesn’t know how many or anything. Frankly, what I did back then is not something I would recommend to anyone. Things got dangerous since then.”
“I know,” Marc said. “There are some things that guys do, you know, with each other, that don’t interest me. Kissing on the lips, and like with… the ass.”
“I see. I think you’ll find a lot of men that feel the same way,” I assured him, not bothering to mention that I was most assuredly one of them these days. “What is it you enjoy?
“I dunno. Weird stuff. Ever hear of frottage?” Marc asked me, and when I told him I didn’t, he explained it to me.
“It’s when you rub your… you know, against a another guy’s stuff. His dick or some other part of him.”
“Oh, I didn’t know it had a name,” I said with a chuckle. “In that case, I do know.”
“Yeah. Well, that and touching and, you know.”
“Oral?” I asked, and when he sheepishly nodded I smiled.
“Do you still get the urge to do stuff with guys?” Marc asked.
“Usually, I just try to let the urge pass, but there are times when I have given in,” I confessed.
“You probably don’t do stupid things like I did to Todd,” Marc said ruefully.
“No, because I was usually the one being pursued,” I said. “I was the submissive one, and so other men would come on to me. I guess they would have to go through the occasional embarrassment like you did. I had it easy back then, because I had a look that many men found attractive.”
“You still look good,” Marc said, and a chill went down my spine when he added, “Still look young.”
“Well, that was part of what excited other men back then,” I went on. “Even though they knew I was of legal age, I looked 13 until I was 30. Still do, without my clothes on,” I added.
“I…,” Marc started to say, but stopped himself.
“You were starting to say something,” I reminded Marc when the silence overwhelmed us.
“Uh, I was just going to say that I must be weird, because of the type of guys that interest me,” Marc said.
“I doubt that anything is considered weird these days,” I told him. “Everybody has preferences about what turns them on in men or women. Men like redheads, or big breasts or tall women, and they aren’t considered weird.”
“Well, I find myself attracted to guys who aren’t, you know, real big.”
“Oh,” I said, swallowing hard, and forced him to continue even though I was pretty sure what he meant. “You mean guys that aren’t real tall and husky?”
“No,” Marc managed to say, his voice choking up as he spoke. “I mean, guys that aren’t… well endowed.
“Small cocks?” I whispered while my heart raced. “You get excited being with guys that have little dicks?”
“Told you I was weird,” Marc admitted, his face now beet-red.
“Not to me you aren’t, Marc,” I told him, sliding a little closer to him on the couch. “Let me tell you about what turns me on. All my life I’ve found myself toward men who are well endowed. Maybe it’s a case of wanting something you don’t have or something like that. You know? The grass always greener? Anyway, I was getting undressed early last summer next to this good looking young man. I was curious as to what he looked like naked, so I looked over at him when his underwear came off. You know what I saw?”
Marc shook his head, his eyes bulging while his chest heaved as his breathing sounded like a locomotive.
“I saw the most beautiful cock imaginable,” I said while looking into his eyes. “I couldn’t get over how this guy who was so slim and boyish looking could have a cock that was so big even flaccid, and ever since then I’ve fantasized about what it would look like hard. About what it would feel like in my hand, in my mouth, and about how I wished I was his age so I could do more than fantasize about it.”
“What,” Marc asked, his voice squeaking now. “What does age have to do with it?”
Chapter Six: What indeed?
I was excited, but looking at Marc made me even more so, because he was twitching and shaking like he was ready to explode.
“I wasn’t soft,” Marc finally managed. “After I saw you get undressed, I was so excited that by the time I got my underwear off I was almost hard. If you stayed for a few more seconds, you would have seen me hard.”
“I wish I had stayed now. Looking at me got you excited?” I asked, and Marc nodded like a bobble-head doll during an earthquake. “After you saw how little my dick is?”
“It was beautiful,” Marc wheezed, and after looking around I slid my hand under the table and put it on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle underneath the soft fabric.
“Where do we take this from here?” I asked, thinking the possibilities through in my mind.
“Want to be with you,” Marc said with a crazed look. “I promise that I won’t ever say anything to anyone.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I said, becoming acutely aware that for whatever reason, Marc wanted me as badly as I wanted him. “It’s just that I have to get home tonight.”
“Tomorrow night?” Marc asked – pleaded.
“Give me a phone number I can get you at,” I said, and Marc grabbed a napkin and scribbled his number on it.
“This is unreal,” I told Marc. “I never dreamed that you would be at all interested in me.”
“Always have been,” Marc said. “After seeing you and after talking to you like this… move your hand over to the left a little.”
Marc was referring to my hand which was still resting on his thigh, and after looking around the almost deserted room, I slid my hand along the satin until it reached the destination that Marc was hoping for me to find.
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath after my hand found the outrageously large bulge on the inside of his thigh, and when Marc made a meek whining sound, I let my hand slide slowly down toward his knee.
“I can’t believe how big you are,” I whispered while letting my hand move slowly down the pulsating snake in his sweat pants.
Marc gasped, and as his eyes rolled back in his head, I felt his cock jerk several times under my grasp. I squeezed him while he rode his orgasm out, and only after his seizures stopped did I pull my hand out from under the table.
“I can’t wait until tomorrow night,” I said softly, grateful that this little activity had gone unnoticed, and slid out of the booth.
The color of Marc’s sweatpants and the darkness of the outside helped make the massive stain that coated the front of him hardly noticeable. As for me, my little boner was poking out against the fabric of my trousers as we walked out into the chilly evening, and this did not go unnoticed by Marc.
“I’d love to take care of that for you,” Marc offered as he walked me to my car.
“Tomorrow,” I said, wanting to save my energy as best I could. “Tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven: Tomorrow.
After I let myself into the hotel room, I turned on the light to the lowest setting and waited on the edge of the bed. After renting a room in a nice businessman’s hotel near the campus, I had called Marc. He picked up the call quickly, and when I told him where I was and offered to pick him up, he said that he was close by and would be there shortly.
It couldn’t have been even ten minutes before there was a tap on the door, and when I answered the knock, I saw an out-of-breath Marc on the other side.
I let him in and locked the door behind him, and after we looked at each other we both grinned and shrugged our shoulders almost simultaneously, which made us both laugh.
“I’m kinda nervous,” Marc said.
“Me too,” I admitted, reaching over and taking the bottom of his t-shirt in my hands and lifting it up over his head.
His body was so sleek and well-toned that I was surprised at how excited I was by him, seeing as how I had always been attracted to hairy men, which Marc most definitely was not. With his arms raised, I could see the faint five o’clock shadow in his armpits, the result of his shaving his body for swimming, which I assumed was the reason for his legs being so smooth as well.
Between us, we had to be the least hirsute men on the planet, although my condition was not by choice but by chance. My body hair consisted of tiny wisps of light brown hair under my arms and a little tuft above my dick.
“All these years, I thought that you didn’t have any hair under your arms at all,” Marc said as he pulled my shirt off and examined the little cluster with his fingers, lightly pulling the hairs with his fingers before giving them a little kiss.
“Might as well not,” I shrugged.
“Looks cool to me,” Marc said before kneeling down and undoing my trousers and getting them off of me.
Taking a deep breath, Marc reached up and grabbed by boxers by the elastic and peeled them down. My nervousness was evident by the fact that I didn’t have an erection, and in fact my modest stem was shrinking into an even tinier toadstool as the cool air hit it.
I reached down to give it a little pull to stir it back to life, but Marc brushed my hand away and put his index finger under my dick and lifted it up while his face came closer.
I shivered when his tongue licked the tip of the crown, and after a couple more swipes, Marc opened his mouth and made my dick disappear. I groaned as I felt Marc’s mouth work around me, making me feel like my dick was being gently battered like it was in a clothes washer.
My dick became immediately hard, and after it did, Marc lifted it onto the bridge of his nose while his mouth gobbled my balls and did a number on them.
After I shifted my weight back and forth a few times, I ran my hands through Marc’s spiked scalp and encouraged him to get up, which he did. I knelt and took Marc’s pants off, which left me at eye level with the huge bulge in the pouch of his starkly white underwear.
I squeezed the cotton a bit, but got too impatient and finally grabbed the elastic and pulled them down, exposing his magnificent package. His cock was limp and wrinkled, and wasn’t as long as it was during that time in the changing room. Not as long did not translate to small, or anything similar to that, because after his wrinkled tube came out of the pouch and hung down, it was still much bigger than I was hard, and had to be close to six inches long flaccid.
I took Marc’s weighty cock and lifted it to my lips, inhaling the musky odor of his manhood as I took him into my mouth. My lips slid all the way down his shaft right to the base, where my nose rested in the little hair pillow above his manhood for a second.
Only a second, however, as I instantly felt the blood racing into his cock, and I had to pull my mouth back off of him as the tip of his cock probed my throat and made me choke a little. Soon my fist was wrapped most of the way around the base of his shaft while I tried to suck on the rest of his massive organ.
“Wait, Mr. Wells,” Marc gasped, pulling me off of his erection and helping me to my feet.
“That was feeling way too good,” Marc said. “Here, look at this.”
I looked down to where Marc’s cock was pressing into my groin. Marc’s hand took my cock and placed it on top of his own and held it there while his hips moved forward and backward.
“Feels nice,” I said, enjoying the rubbing of his cock on the underside of my dick.
We looked outrageous, however. With his cock pressing into the space between my cock and balls, the difference between the size of our organs could not have been more pronounced. The look on Marc’s face told me how much is loved looking at us together, and I had to admit that it turned me on in a perverse way.
“I’m not laughing at you,” Marc quickly added, as he misunderstood my reaction.
“I know, Marc,” I said.
The sight of my pale stem on top of his dusky organ was doing for Marc what this had done for several of my lovers in the distant past, and I was able to enjoy Marc’s reaction to his outrageous physical superiority.
“This is frottage?” I asked while our dicks continued to gently rub together, and when he smiled and nodded, I added, “It does feel nice. I just wish I had more for you to rub into so it was better for you.”
“No, no, no Mr. Wells,” Marc said quickly. “This feels even better than it looks for me, and besides, you aren’t …all that small.”
“It’s okay,” I said after giving him a look. “It really doesn’t bother me. In fact, it turns me on as much as it does you. Maybe more.”
“Really? Well my cock next to yours makes yours look tiny!” Marc said..
“Can’t you tell?” I asked him. “Feel how hard I am. I love it that your cock is more than twice as long and thick as mine. I’m dribbling all over us.”
“I see it. It looks awesome,” Marc said. “Can you cum? I want you to cum all over us.”
That was no problem, because I had been on the verge of an orgasm ever since our dicks touched, so I kept rubbing my dick along the fat vein that traveled almost the entire length of Marc’s dusky shaft.
I let out a gasp, and then watched as my dick spat out a wad of cum into Marc’s pubic hair, and another three or four spurts left me weak in the knees and left our cocks dripping with cum.
I heard Marc cry out just after I stopped cumming, and felt his load spurting all over me as well. I reached down and helped milk the rest of his seed out and then we exchanged dazed smiles.
“Haven’t even made it to bed yet,” I noted.
Chapter Eight: In bed.
The only things that I had brought with me to the room was a bottle of champagne and a large bottle of massage oil, and after I popped the cork and poured us drinks into the tiny plastic cups in the room, I offered to give Marc a massage.
“Only if I can do you too,” Marc said as he crawled into the bed on his stomach.
I agreed, and went to work on the marvelously toned torso of my young friend. His legs were so muscular and smooth that I was able to knead them roughly and deeply, causing Marc to moan with contentment.
His thighs were next, and as I rubbed the oil into them my eyes went to his cute little butt, complete with tiny dimples. I parted Marc’s butt cheeks as I moved upward, rubbing my oiled finger around his hairless, puckered ring, even darted a finger in briefly before going up to his back and shoulders.
As I massaged his back, I got the urge to straddle Marc while I worked on his back. My dick was already getting hard again, and I found that it felt very nice laying in the greased crack of Marc’s ass.
“Oh yeah!” Marc gasped as he realized what I was doing. “You’re hard again!”
“Not for long,” I grunted, as my dick moved up and down the slick valley between his firm buttocks.
I laid down on top of Marc as I ground my body into his for several minutes, and Marc seemed to enjoy the feel of our bodies together as much as I did. When I could wait no longer, I went back up to a kneeling position and watched as my dick spat cum all over Marc’s back.
“Do you take Viagra?” Marc asked as I rolled him onto his back and began rubbing the fronts of his legs.
“No, I guess that Mother Nature felt guilty about my equipment so I’ve always been blessed by being resilient,” I told Marc. “It doesn’t hurt to be with somebody that’s so attractive either.”
“And speaking of resilient,” I noted, as I watched Marc’s cock get longer as my hands got closer to it. “You seem to be making a comeback of your own here.”
My oiled hands rubbed all around his crotch, and after I spread his thighs apart, I went right for his balls, grabbing the sizable orbs and kneading the oversized sac in my palm.
‘Damn, what a pair you’ve got on you!” I exclaimed, as my words and touch had Marc’s cock fully erect seconds later. “How do you fit all of this in those little trunks?”
“Tuck it… down between my legs,” Mark grunted as I squeezed his scrotum roughly. “Try not to look at hot girls… or guys.”
“When I watching you getting ready to race the other day, I kept trying to figure out how you managed that,” I said, moving my hands up to his fully engorged cock.
“Need both hands for a man built you,” I mentioned as I ran my lubricated hands up and down his glistening spear, straddling his thigh as I spun my hands while slowly jerking Marc off.
“That feels so unbelievable,” Marc said, reaching over and putting his hand on my leg. “Your hands are magical.”
I felt like I was worshipping the huge tool I had in my hands, and the sight and the feel of it so dominated the tiny body it was attached to, that it almost felt like I was performing some sort of ritual on it.
Marc’s eyes were glazed as I kept running my hands up and down, taking care not to miss the slightest bit of him, from the thick roots of the base to the sweet tip of the glans. Marc wanted to cum, and I was able to keep him on the very brink of orgasm for the longest time. My fingers were cramped and my arms were aching, but I was so focused on what I was doing that I hardly noticed.
“Please,” Marc whimpered to me.
“Do you want to cum?” I asked him, and after he nodded I worked my hands up and down his cock fast, squeezing him tightly.
Marc gripped at the bedding, arching his back as his orgasm roared up on him, and as he did, I slowed my stroking way down, finally stopping all together but applying great pressure to the area between the underside of the base of his tool and his balls.
Marc looked at me with an expression that brought to mind the painting “The Scream”. His face twisted and distorted, as if on a out-of-control roller coaster, Marc desperately looked to me for release, and when he did that, I let go.
His cock erupted like a volcano. His first volley of cum flew several feet straight up in the air, and after I started jerking him off hard and fast again, the seed simply flew all over the place.
By the time Marc clawed my hands off of his still ejaculating member, my arms were dripping with his seed, and Marc finally curled up in a fetal position, his whole body shaking until I curled up on top of him and held him.
Chapter Nine: WTF?
“What,” Marc said, his body still quivering a minute later, “the hell was that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I enjoyed being a part of it, though.”
“You caused it,” Marc said, a little smile crossing his face even as his body shuddered again, and he shielded his cock from me when I tried to touch it.
“Just wanted to see if I could get some more out of it,” I said.
“There is no more,” Marc said. “I’m drained. I actually ache down there.”
“A really good ache,” he quickly added. “That was so far beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. What did you do?”
“Just jerked you off,” I said. “Chalk it up to a magic moment or something. I do have a whole lot of experience in the field of masturbation, however, both giving and receiving. Now let me finish your massage.”
I gingerly picked up his deflated cock and set it over toward his hip before rubbing his rippled abdomen. As I ran my hands over Marc’s sleek body, I felt a wave of emotions rush over me, unlike anything I had even felt before.
Part regret, part envy and probably part lust. As I looked over the magnificent specimen of manhood that shared the bed with me, for the first time I regretted being old. In effect, I had become the man that 30 or so years ago would have been doing what I was doing to Marc, worshipping his gifts and trying to share in his ecstasy.
The envy, both of his youth and of his obvious physical gifts as well. How wonderful it must be to be able to live your entire life unashamed, and to never have to suffer the pain of having a girl laugh at you when you took your underwear off. Hell, how I would have loved to experienced just once what I had just done to Marc.
Not just the intense orgasm, because I’ve been lucky to have had more than my share of those. Just the sensation of having two hands on my cock like that would be something I would loved to have enjoyed for one moment, and only men who have spent their lives getting off with just a thumb and an index finger could appreciate what I mean by that.
Those were feelings that I hadn’t had since my much younger days. The other feeling, lust, was there too, and as I worked my fingers into Marc’s shoulders, I realized that was an emotion that was always there within me.
Lifting his arm, I kneaded the muscles in his biceps, and even bowed my head and ran my tongue over his shaved armpits. When I did that, I felt Marc’s hand reaching down between my legs, and as he lifted me up, I let him position me so that I was straddling his face with my crotch as I faced his feet.
I felt Marc’s tongue licking my balls, sliding up along the underside of my dick and right down to the tender spot below my scrotum. From where I knelt, I could see our reflection in the dresser mirror, and the sight of Marc’s tongue made my dick twitch with excitement.
Suddenly, my sac was in Marc’s mouth, and I moaned as he began sucking my nuts hard, almost like he was trying to swallow them. My cherry-tomato sized balls were being rolled around in Marc’s mouth, and as he sucked on them, I felt Marc’s hand on my dick.
I rode Marc’s face like it was a saddle, while his mouth churned by balls around like they were in some sort of washing machine. Marc’s index finger was rubbing all along the underside of my dick during all of this, and I had to hold onto my own thighs to keep my balance.
I started to cum, and even though my vision was a bit blurred, I got to watch myself in the mirror as my dick sprang up and down, squirting my seed all over Marc’s chest before drooping back down against Marc’s chin.
“Nice,” I said as I crawled down next to Marc and let him spoon up into me. “Really nice.”
Chapter Ten: Good night.
“I have to go soon,” I said after a while.
We had fallen asleep for a bit, and when I saw what time it was I realized that I had to go back to my real world.
“Me too,” Marc said with more than a touch of regret in his voice. “Will we ever do this again?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
Despite the incredible time I had, I had a lot of misgivings and more than a touch of guilt about what I had done.
“This has been incredible, though, and I really mean that,” I said. “I hope you enjoyed it half as much as I did.”
“It was the best night of my life,” Marc said, and when he moved against me I could feel his hardness.
“I thought that was drained,” I asked him.
“Can you stick around for a couple of minutes?” Marc asked, and when I said that I could, he rolled me onto my stomach, and after oiling the crack of my ass, laid his cock along the valley and began humping me.
The feel of his cock between my ass cheeks was very pleasant, and after a while I began squirming around, pretending that he was impaling me with his huge organ. Marc seemed to enjoy this reaction from me, and he came soon after, as I felt the warmth of his seed on my lower back as he groaned one last time.
“You came too?” Marc asked as he reached under me and felt my sticky dick and the fresh mess it had made under it.
“Guilty,” I said.
“I was going to get you off,” Marc said.
“You did,” I grinned. “This frottage? I like it. You increased my vocabulary tonight, even if you did leave me a quart low.”
We took a shower together, and helped each other dry off, and those intimate moments were very special in their own way too, even though I was finished for the night, as no amount of tender washing and drying was going to bring me back to life.
After dressing, I tidied up the room a little, and we both laughed at the pool of cum I had left on the sheets during that last event.
“That’s the only mess that we didn’t make on each other,” Marc correctly noted as we went to the door.
I stopped just before opening the door, and gave Marc a hug, which he returned enthusiastically, even giving me a kiss on the cheek for good measure.
“If you ever want to, you know,” Marc said, giving a nod to the bed behind us.
“Hey, you can count on seeing me plenty more,” I said. “I enjoyed watching you swim, so I’ll be around to root you on.”
“Just do me a favor,” Marc said as we walked down the hallway. “Don’t let me see you until after the meet.”
“Why? Nerves?” I asked.
“No,” Marc corrected me. “The trunks. If I see you, I might have that problem we talked about before.”
“Deal,” I said, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder as we got into the elevator and back into our own worlds.