Arlene's Long Spermfest Weekend

We both busted up looking at each other.

"Couple of beached whales," I lamented. "Albino beached whales."

"At least with cocks, at least we got cocks," said Lenny.

"Man this is uncomfortable," I said, shifting my legs, "worse than a jockstrap. I never knew that having a string pull on your butt crack could be so irritating."

"I have had some girls say that about thongs," said Lenny. "The only reason to wear one was for the slut-look, they said, certainly not for comfort. But of course that explains a whole lot of women's clothing anyway. We should ask Her Highness later for her opinion, as a conversation piece anyway."

"Right, but most women look way better in thongs than we do," I said ruefully, and Lenny laughed.

"Tell you what," he said, looking at me evenly. "Let's make sure Arlene gets an eyeful when she returns. We can tell her that we were thinking of her and we'd still be mostly telling the truth."

Taking me by surprise, he reached a hand over and began to fondle my prick through the thin nylon or whatever fabric it was of the pouch. With all the fun of seeing Arlene and thinking back to old days, it took very little attention from his fingers before my cock was straining against the pouch, pushing it out at a fairly absurd angle.

It felt good. I liked the light touch of his fingers over my cock, especially when he was caressing the head. He squeezed and stroked, lovely sensations radiating from my groin. One of my balls had gotten loose and was hanging out one side. Lenny stopped to enjoy the view.

"Nice," he said, "she'll be pleased." He looked down at his crotch.

I took a breath. "You gonna get yourself up?" I asked.

Lenny looked at me intently, a challenge in his eyes. "No, you do it," he said. "I just did you."

Not quite trembling, I reached over with one excited hand and felt his cock through the pouch. It was soft, warm, limp, all hanging there bunched together with his balls, his pubic hair sticking out wildly beyond the pouch.

I ran my fingers under his balls, and rubbed his cock, which reacted quickly to the touch. The fabric made it easy to slide your hand along his package, with barely any friction, and within a couple minutes his cock had gone from limp to half hard, his shaft folded over on itself, and the ridge of his cockhead outlined in the pouch, pointing down.

We were both circumcised, as we were boys of an age when the middle class in our corner of the world were foreskin clipped as a routine. I could feel the distinct edge of his cockhead as it grew, a bit like running your fingers along the edges of a firm, just-picked mushroom.

His prickhead, as I well knew, was pointy, and I could feel the very tip, its little piss-slit just visible as a dark line through the fabric, with the rest of the head tapering off like a large dangerous arrowhead.

Despite myself, I enjoyed feeling his cock grow hard under my attention, the slowly increasing hydraulic pressure as it got aroused.

"Excellent," I said, stopping to examine my work. We both watched as his cock continued to grow on its own, swelling and filling out the pouch.

Despite what we had each said about them, the pouches were intriguing. By wearing them on the one piece of our anatomy we most prized, we managed to highlight our pricks.

I could clearly discern the outline of Lenny's pointy cockhead through the thin red fabric of the pouch, and his cock pushing against its restraints.

"I'm hoping you get that thing up her one way or another today."

Lenny nodded, then glanced down by the river. Arlene was making her way up the backyard slope but wasn't looking our way yet.

We stood at the back of the deck, beers in hand, and watched her, those big succulent tits swaying from one side to another as she came up the slope.

She stopped at the top of the steps to the deck and examined us.

"Well, well," she finally said. "I got you both the right size at least."

Lenny cracked up, since the pouches had been adequate for us when limp, but totally out-manned when aroused. Arlene had walked over and was eying the one testicle of mine that had escaped confinement. She reached over and tucked it back into the bundle.

"You losing a nut there," she said.

"Hoping I lose more than that," I replied, and she gave me a quizzical look.

"Okay, gentlemen," she said, motioning us to our chairs. "Let's have a little talk."

We sat down, the wooden surface of my Adirondack style chair making an unpleasantly rough impression on my effectively naked ass. I felt tense, expectant, not sure what direction we were headed.

Lenny, usually the one in control, appeared out-maneuvered at the moment, and his eyes were sharp but his movements passive and tentative. It appeared that Arlene would be arranging things.

"So," she began, giving each of us a long appraising look, noting the bulge in our pouches as our organs strained, half hard, against the thin fabric.

"I am guessing that each of you were hoping for some sexual amusement this weekend, correct?"

We both looked at each other and nodded.

"Sure," said Lenny. "We're not teenagers any more, but that doesn't mean a good energetic quivering fuck would be unwelcome," trying to sound more in command than he was.

"A 'good energetic quivering fuck?' " Arlene asked almost sarcastically. "That all?"

"It was plenty good a few decades ago," Lenny said, half defiantly. "I seem to remember you..."

Arlene waved a hand and cut him off.

"A few things have changed since then. Number one, I am positive you are not good for three in a row anymore."

Lenny sucked in his gut and said, "Well I think you should try me out before making those kinds of pronouncements."

Arlene laughed. "Okay, fair enough. I certainly am willing to see you demonstrate your, um, enduring sexual prowess. But, I'm sorry, an eighteen year old prick is an eager young colt, and while maybe not ready for pasture yet, I guarantee the cocks on you boys aren't exactly long distance endurance runners anymore."

She eyed us evenly.

"Today will be test day," she went on. "It will give us some idea of how the rest of the weekend will go."

I didn't like the way she said "us."

She stretched her legs out and laid back on her lounge chair, her tits spreading out nicely to each side, nipples pushing out against her blouse.

"Talk to me," she said with a slight, challenging smile. "Tell me about some of your favorite erotic experiences. Not a 'top ten' list thing, just special adventures that were memorable. You, Rob, you start."

I sat for a moment, trying to sort out my thoughts. Of course I had told Lenny all sorts of sex stories over time. A huge percentage of our misspent youth was occupied by sex talk, all day, when we weren't occupied actually stroking ourselves together or intently watching the other wankoff.

Getting back to knowing him now meant a lot of story swapping about erotic events in the intervening years. It had been easy for us to slip into old, familiar, hyper-sexual patterns. But Arlene I hadn't seen in ages, and while I thought I knew her back then, I really didn't have a handle on her now, what she was like, what she might be wanting.

She was looking at me directly.

"What made for a memorable night for you?" she prodded. "A warm candle-lit bedroom scene? Or did you like a quick clandestine encounter in the woods? Or at the beach?" Her eyes sparkled.

"Well," I began hesitantly, trying both to be honest but also to say something that would please her.

"Best was always when it took a long time."

Arlene nodded. I paused, then continued. "Early in my marriage a sex session would rarely last less than an hour, sometimes twice that. A long build up, that was always sweet."

She looked at me. "Deborah?" she said. "Was that her name?" Lenny must have told her some of my history. I nodded. Deborah had been my last college love and then my wife, but we had split ages ago.

"What did she do? What did you like?"

I flashed back on the way during the hot summer nights she would take her shirt off during dinner in our cramped New York apartment, and I told Arlene how she would wave her small supple breasts around in our tiny kitchen til my cock was hard and straining in my trousers and I couldn't wait to get into bed with her after dinner. We skipped a lot of desserts in those days.

"So you were excited by seeing her topless?" Arlene asked gently.

"Yes, of course. I think most guys operate very quickly in the visual arena."

"Having her shirt off, was that a tease to you? Or an invitation?"

"Well, it certainly was a signal that she was interested. And that she enjoyed pleasing me."

"Was it always better when you knew someone was as anxious as you to make love?" she asked.

"Yes, of course."

"What else made for a satisfying experience?"

"Anything to draw it out. It was so much nicer when she, or any of my partners for that matter, would tease my cock, make my groin ache to erupt, then back off, letting my semen go on 'simmer' in my balls as it were, and then pick up tempo again, especially if done with imagination.

"It was always best when someone knew my prick well enough to know when it was getting close, and then ease off. Many times then, probably most, I would cross that threshold too quickly. Of course often times I wanted to, couldn't imagine holding back, and those were nice times too. But the long lingering ones, those I tend to remember.

"One time though," I paused, "I couldn't wait. I pushed her onto the dinner table, her back flat out between the plates. I pulled up her dress, pushed her panties to one side and just plunged into her. Her hair got in the butter. I took her right there, hard, the dishes rattling and the table legs shaking. Fucked her good. I probably wasn't inside her more than a few minutes."

Arlene nodded. "Sounds almost like a rape?"

"Well, I am pretty sure she enjoyed it as much as I did."

Arlene pursed her lips and gave me a reflective glance.

"And testicle attention too," I added as an afterthought. "A hugely neglected piece of anatomy."

"Licked?" asked Arlene with the flicker of a smile. "Suckled?"

"Yes to both. Just rubbed is plenty nice. A long languorous perineum rub is enchanting." My hips quivered with the thought.

"Looking back, a fair number of my partners never really caught on to this."

Arlene smiled knowingly. "Well, to some women, I think balls are perhaps intimidating. Most of us know enough that you need to be gentle with them, but perhaps not much more than that. Women have nipples and know what can happen to attention there, but we don't have the same equivalents for your male loins, all sitting there out in the open."

The thought of her mouth on my balls, her tongue sliding along their twin sensitive globes, made my ass squeeze in pleasure.

"And you, Mr. Hot Cock," she said, turning to Lenny. "What was best for you?"

"There were different things," said Lenny. "But I would be a liar if I said I didn't like a good conquest."

"There is something intoxicating about finding a new potential hookup, a handsome looking wench, at a party or a bar, who doesn't yet know she wants you, and then taking the rest of the evening or afternoon to arrange the situation so that she decides she DOES want you and can't wait to feel your prick slithered up her cunt and stretching it wide in a delicious fashion, and then you end up in the same bed together later that night, and she's doing lovely things to your cock and making your sperm overheat and then fucking her brains out til she is a quivering semen-soaked mess and your cock is soft and spent inside her and wrung out like an old wet dishrag, and you know she has your sperm flooding every inch of her innards, all gooey and warm and happy, right where it belongs."

"I seem to remember something about this conquest thing," said Arlene, eyes twinkling. "Although I didn't have much interest in you in the beginning."

"You didn't want to have anything to do with me!" exclaimed Lenny. "I had a hellava time with you."

"And we know how that worked out," retorted Arlene. "Took my virginity, introduced all sorts of perverted activities into my life, ruined me forever."

"Forgive me?" asked Lenny in pretend contrition.

"Almost," ventured Arlene. "But besides the conquest part, what else was best for you? My best couplings with you were almost always not the first ones. You would shoot inside me pretty fast in those days, but the second one was always longer. Nicer for me anyway, especially if you just stayed inside me and then got hard again.

"It felt great to have your cock in me go from limp and spent to hard again. I almost never had a climax with you the first time, much more often on the second. I assume twice was good for you too, but we actually never talked about it that much then."

"Seconds are great," admitted Lenny, "slower and a bit less intense, at least for guys. One thing that was nice with you though, and it shouldn't be a surprise since I mentioned it a lot and we did it a lot. When you took me in your mouth. You weren't the first to do so."

I had to look away at this comment, as I think I was eligible for that honor, but wasn't sure whether Lenny ever confessed this to Arlene or anyone else.

"But it was so so sweet to have your mouth over my cock. Oh you were good! Such a warm, wet soft mouth! A tongue that performed marvelous feats. Those wonderful, lingering geographical explorations your tongue took, up and down my cock, all along the head, sucking my sperm forth like that's what you were born to do.

"Your lips cupping my prickhead, suctioning out my semen. And you learned on me! Your first penis! I busted both your cherry and your tonsils!"

He looked like a triumphant rooster in the hen-house.

"It was especially sweet if we had a safe place to ourselves, and time, and your shirt was off and I could grope your tits while you sucked me." His eyes looked dreamy.

"God, that was heaven back then. All those days when neither one of us had a condom around? Still could be fun. Remember those times coming back from skiing?"

Arlene grinned. "Yes, of course."

This was another one of those crazy teenaged stunts, the kind of thing you couldn't believe unless you saw it happen. If any of our parents had known about this little vehicular exploit we would have been thrown out of the house, with car privileges permanently removed.

Lenny would be driving back from one of our ski trips up north in the family station wagon, the heat cranked way up to warm us up after skiing. Arlene took to giving him head while he drove.

She would unzip his jeans and fish his prick out of his long-johns, stroke it a few times and then basically put her head in his lap and take him in her mouth.

I didn't get a very good view from the back seat of the car, just her head going up and down on him while he tried to keep the vehicle on the road, then his hips bucking frantically when he launched his spermload into her mouth. It was stupid and risky, but it gave me an idea how often Lenny got his rocks off in those days. Naturally I spent most of my life back then in perpetual envy of the two of them.

Lenny looked down at his crotch. All this reminiscing had made his cock hard. His red pouch was pointing in an anti-gravity direction, his cockhead pushing straight up against the fabric.

"Well, look at this," he said, wagging his prick from side to side.

"Hate to waste an erection," he said. Of course he and I used to say that to each other all the time, and then we would stroke our pricks together until sperm was flying everywhere. We both smiled at hearing the old phrase tumble out.

"Can't let a hardon go to waste," mimicked Arlene. "And then you would plug me as fast as you could."

Lenny stood up and moved over next to Arlene.

She looked up at his pouch, about eye height and inches from her face, and ran her fingers over his cock, smoothly gliding her hand over the satiny fabric and the underlying monster. It visibly hardened under her touch, growing longer and thickening.

Arlene smiled, and I couldn't help but guess where her thoughts went, back to when she was first introduced to Lenny and his cock, and did all sorts of exciting illicit things for the first time, that she had done many a time since, perhaps even with lots of men.

Then Arlene suddenly made a face and rapidly withdrew her hand, "Hey what am I doing?"

Lenny thrust his prick closer, "Just what you should be doing," he said, rather emphatically.

Arlene stared at him. "No, here is the deal."

"I knew very well that by being invited here that one or both of you would be hoping to get into my shorts." She gave us each a long look. "Right?"

We both smirked. "Of course," said Lenny. "This is like that movie 'The Big Chill,' an old gathering of boomer friends. You cannot revisit the past entirely and authentically, but creative reenactment is certainly an appealing option!"

He put on his best salesman face. "Remember the first time my cock went up your cunt?" he asked in almost comical delight.

Arlene waved him off.

"Nope. Not gonna happen that way. Back then all you guys were into calling the shots. No more of that."

"That's funny," Lenny scowled, "I was sure all along that girls always were the ones in control. Pretty damn hard to get a cock past a set of thighs that are clamped shut tight," he said with exaggerated aggravation.

"And not like I didn't do a whole lot of trying."

Arlene settled back in her chair, eying Lenny's bulging prick bundle. "So, whoever wants some pleasure from me will need to earn it."

Lenny and I exchanged glances.

"What sort of earning is required?" Lenny grumbled. "Can't we at least opt for direct deposit?"

Arlene pretended she hadn't heard him.

"I said I had some concerns about your, ah, stamina," said Arlene evenly. "I am not, totally not, interested in the old five-minute hump-and-done routine."

Lenny wagged his pouch from side to side. "Not a problem sweetie, just give me a try. And when I'm done you got another hard one right next door," he said, pointing at my own bulge, which while not poking out with quite the same vigor, was clearly straining in its fabric basket.

"I have the fullest confidence that this weekend you will not lack for cock attention and pro-longed pleasure." He exaggerated and drew out the last two words so much that both Arlene and I laughed.

"Tell you what," she said. "Let's see how many ejaculations each of you can produce before dinner. One with the most gets to have me after we take a break for dinner and eat."

She looked at her phone on the table next to her.

"Nearly four hours til six o' clock. That will guarantee a nice drawn-out lascivious coupling later. I can think of all sorts of things that would be fun to do then with a cock that doesn't expire instantly. And in the meantime I would enjoy seeing your own little penis play.

"You guys can pretend you are overheated adolescents again while you wank your pricks about. The phallocentric dream. Shouldn't be a trouble for you boys."

She sat back and looked at each of us. She seemed very pleased with herself. She took a sip of her tequila. "I'd be surprised if either of you gets past two."

"Two ejaculations?" I asked.

She nodded. I was a bit afraid she was right.

Lenny and I looked at each other, then he shrugged.

"Okay, but it seems an awful waste of semen that could be put to better use somewhere else."

His eyes traveled from her mouth, to her boobs, to her crotch.

"Are you going to help at all? Or are we on our own?"

Arlene considered this for a moment.

"I could imagine touching you a time or two, but am not going to help in any other way," she finally said, then her face brightened.