Motorhead

But at this stage of our relationship, we knew we had to take a lot of breaks, otherwise the fun would be over far too soon.

So we went at each other in a variety of ways, sitting next to each other, rummaging under testicles, pulling on each other's cock without getting too worked up.

But you can't do this too long, the sperm pressure gets unbearable.

Roger got me off first. I was lying down, while he was on the other side of the mirror, so I could get a good look down at my crotch, with my cock in his mouth, but also glance over to the mirror and get a different view.

He keeps his eyes shut when he sucks me, and I daresay he has learned well the best places to pleasure my anxious bundle of nerve endings.

He licked me from top to bottom, then back to the top of my prick where he tongued my glans ridge. All the time a hand on my balls, often rubbing from just underneath them and moving up, my ass squeezing and hips pushing into the touch to maximize the contact.

Then lips over my head, a tight wet little noose, a few rapid in-and-outs, and I feel the sperm tanks ratcheting towards crisis point. I can't keep my eyes off the mirror.

My ass clenches, I watch my hips push frantically, and then five good satisfying eruptions of sperm into my buddy's mouth. He keeps sucking, stroking, he's learned to do this continuous stimulation business until I can't take it any longer.

A prolonged nurse at my cock-head, until it dwindles, and finally slops out of his mouth. I am spent.

He holds my limp wet penis in one hand, and I see him take a look at the mirror, which he has mostly avoided. I like the barest flicker of a smile on his face.

Even more, I like that his cock is in ramrod condition, he often gets real worked up while attending to me.

So we reverse positions, and with him on the thin mattress, I go to work on him. He won't last as along as I did, he's that aroused, but my job is to take as long as possible.

But not that day. I don't know if the mirror made any difference to him, or whether it was that we were in the van doing our stuff, or maybe he had just gotten himself so worked up doing me, but he shot his load in no time.

I hadn't had him in my mouth more than a few minutes before I felt his legs tensing, his hips making those lovely frantic pushes when he is trying to get maximum stimulation to his cock. His cock head got that last little bit larger in my mouth and he erupted. It's like having a rifle go off in your mouth, the pulse, pulse, pulse as his cock ejected the holy grail semen. I nursed as long as I could, until he could take no more contact and slopped out.

We took our time putting our clothes back on and had a quiet happy drive back home.

****

We were sitting on his backyard porch after lunch one day when Carrie had gone for the afternoon. Hot midsummer lazy air. We'd had a quickie, neither of us had had a chance at each other for a couple weeks and the urgency for relief had been mighty. I'd sucked him sitting on his deck chair and gotten a good pent-up load. He'd done me standing, my back against the side of his porch, while I watched my penis go in and out of his mouth, then lovely hip-thrusting involuntary movements when my sperm took the enchanted path through my penis to a warm, wet welcoming home inside him.

So with that warm glow from my crotch radiating through my sweaty body, and with a decent opportunity for another round, we sat relaxing on the porch chairs over refractory beers, letting the cocks recuperate.

"Roger?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm in love with your balls."

He laughed, long and loud.

"Guess I got something on Barb then."

We were careful talking about our wives, but sometimes they came into the picture.

"You're right, no way I can suck her balls. Or her cock for that matter. And she's never had an erection as far as I know."

We were so witty sometimes.

I told him how much I got off on seeing his own erection. When it got hard I knew the reason. If we were together, and he was hard, I knew there was sperm boiling away in those testicles waiting to get loose.

Our friendship had taken on this comfortable new dimension. I am not sure we were totally easy being bi, don't think either one of us was going to go around talking about it, except between ourselves. So I guess it was a secret. Although any time two people share a secret it stands a chance of getting loose.

"So does Carrie like your balls as much as I do?" He'd brought up my spouse, I figured I could do so in reverse.

He looked at me funny.

"Clay, I don't think anyone has ever liked my nuts as much as you. Carrie liked them well enough early on, I suppose. I still don't mind when she rubs them, but its mostly just for foreplay, not serious like you. You just plain adore them. There were some other girls way back, but, well things were different before marriage. I am sometimes embarrassed to think back on those days."

"How naive you were?"

"Yep. And just plain stupid. That was high school all the way on for many years. Fumbling, stupid, awkward. Could never just say what I wanted, just didn't talk sex very well at all, ever. 'Til now. I think I can tell you anything."

I raised my beer. "Fair enough. Here's to good honest pleasure. Straight up."

He laughed. "Yeah right, 'straight up.' Maybe you're talking about penises."

"Speaking of which." He pointed at my crotch. My favorite piece of anatomy was starting to straighten itself, as it were.

We both watched.

All by itself, no touching or anything physical, but the thing got going, gradually inflating. This is one of those marvelous mysteries of life. Just by our talk, my mind had got engaged and started thinking lovely lecherous thoughts, and the mind/body connection, nerves or chemical or whatever you want to call it, went to work and the thing grew before our eyes. First a little, then more, so the head raised up off my chair, then erected itself into a flag-mast, pointing up, like some sort of mysterious male sundial.

We looked at each other, stupid grins on our faces, and then looked back at the miracle of maleness. I wagged it back and forth, then pointed it at Roger.

"Looks like I been targeted," he said. He reached over and gave it a squeeze.

"Damn. Second time today, even."

We had 'doubles' about a third of the time together. Certainly we'd had scenes where that's what be both wanted, but more often than not, once was enough. We'd often gone and divested our spermal energy with such reckless violence there was no way a second time would happen. More than once we'd tried, but couldn't muster the sexual energy necessary

This wasn't going to be one of those times.

So we starting talking, luxuriating in the anticipation of what was coming.

"You watch much porn Roger?"

"Funny you should ask. Not as much as since we've gotten together. I watched more then."

"Any gay?"

He wrinkled up his nose. "Since we've been doing stuff together I've looked at a little. Doesn't really do much for me. You?"

"Some. What I like the most is a good, hard, healthy stiff cock. A pair of them. One guy excited while he's getting another guy excited. And of course the pricks in porn are all oversize, some of them almost unbelievable. But they're gorgeous. I especially like them outdoors, like the kind of things we've done."

Roger was silent. "You ever think about a new cock, Clay?"

I wasn't sure whether he was developing jealousy feelings or something.

"Not really. But cruising? A different anonymous way of doing things." I said. "A novel idea. Risky. Dangerous. Probably that gives it some of its allure. That would be one way to see some new meat."

We talked about it a little. What it would be like to see some other guys indulging their penis playing activities in a public park somewhere. Witness some action, maybe even get involved.

We looked at each other. "Give it a try?" I asked.

Roger was unsure.

I'd heard about a park in Pittsfield that had a reputation.

"But a new penis or two between us? Sound's risky, Clay. Right now, it's just us. No danger of health issues. But another random cock? No idea about where else it's been? Plus the security/identity thing."

He shook his head. But I could see it had some vague appeal for him, nonetheless, and we made tentative plans to visit a cruising spot some day. While our growing arousal simmered on low, the conversation drifted back to earlier topics.

"You know the porn I really like?" Roger had a hungry look on his face.

"Nope, what's that?"

"When a girl with a big chest strokes and sucks a guy. When you see her breasts dangling, then jiggling while her head bobs up and down on his cock, or she plays with his shaft."

I almost brought up Barb, since she used to do this often in the past, and had the kind of body to go with his fantasy, but I somehow didn't want her intruding into this discussion.

She's got long, heavy, luscious breasts, but she isn't that fond of them, finds them annoying, although any hetero-male would view them as gorgeous. They certainly arouse me mightily. The scene Roger had described—jiggling breasts while doing oral or a handjob—would fit her to a "T." I loved it when she knelt between my legs, stroked me while those beauties moved around, making my mouth water. But I decided not to say anything.

Roger's Carrie is short, petite, with a haircut short and sensible, almost no chest. About as far from Roger's lust-description as it was possible to go, but of course, you always want what you don't have, that's the perversity of human desire. But our wives we usually kept at a remove. I suddenly got the image in my head of Roger mounting Carrie, plunging his prick into her undoubtedly small opening. That lovely prick I knew so well, launching a spermload into her underneath him. I shuddered.

So I turned the conversation back to porn.

"So here's my own personal problem, Rog. I think we ought to find some time to watch porn together, we might learn a thing or two from each other. But if I see the kind of scene you described, I'm torn. I want to be the guy with the penis being wanked/sucked by the buxom wench, but then I also want to be the one sucking on that beautiful, hard penis right there on the screen. Want it to be my lips. It is both a double turn-on and frustrating at the same time. I can't be both. Highlights my own sexual schizophrenia. Does that make sense?"

Roger laughed. "Almost. I get that you enjoy the sucking bit a lot, but when that image is in front of me? I just want the big-tit girl's lips over my own cock."

We decided, for the umpteenth time, that sex is totally complex, and that individual variations and quirks to arousals are nearly infinite.

"Look, I'm just grateful I got your sweet penis to play with," I finally said.

Our talking had gotten us good and worked up.

We started our second round slow, just pulling on each other's cocks while they began their slow crawl back to hardness. Seconds are often sweet, and we were more leisurely now that the first blast had been handled.

I had Roger stoked out on a beach towel in the yard, air felt good on our bare skin. His eyes were closed, hands clasped behind his head, just enjoying the penis-attention. And my crazy mind got going, which it does sometimes.

"Imagine I'm a big-tit girl, Roger." I felt underneath his balls, pulled on his shaft. "Pretend it's a horny wench fondling your big handsome cock." I gave another lecherous stroke.

"Here's her hungry lips going over your rigid rod," I said in a sultry voice. My mouth went over his cock, which felt good and I delighted in its hardening in my mouth.

I pulled off and continued talking. I ran my chest with my own erect nipples over his belly. "Big tits and hard nipples going over your body, you big stud. I'm gonna take your semen into my hot hungry mouth."

This almost got a laugh out of Roger, who looked up at me.

"Cut it out Clay, you're no female. Just suck me, okay?"

So that was it, as far as I could take my role-play stuff with him.

Didn't matter. I got a good load out of him, and he did me back. I love these languorous summer afternoons. We had another beer after we got clothes on, wanting to be prepared if Carrie pulled in early after running her errands.

****

So, due to that one cruising conversation, one day when we'd taken the van out, on a warm sunny afternoon, I convinced Roger to visit the trysting spot I'd heard about in Pittsfield, Greylock Glen it was called, at the west end of town. Roger was nervous, I half expected him to bow out, but we found the place, drove around to the end of the parking area.

It was a warm day. I wondered if the police came around with any regularity.

We found a trail and wandered, all our senses on hyper alert for any sign of illicit behavior. I figured events would take place away from the trail, but of course we didn't know the area, the customs or anything.

We passed a few other hikers, couples, single men. More than one of the latter "took our measure" you might say. A deliberate stare at our crotches, then a look to our faces to see if there was any sign of interest. Roger would not make eye contact, and his pace usually sped up when we crossed paths.

We spied a couple men away from the trail, partially hidden by some trees. Standing next to each other. We couldn't quite get a good look, but it seemed like they were groping each other through trousers. I wanted to stop and look, but Roger urged me on.

On our way back, closer to the parking place, we spied another pair of guys some ways off the trail, partially obscured by some underbrush. This time there was no mistaking what was going on. Two bare erect cocks sticking out of jeans, each guy's hand on the other's cock. I inhaled. Some public arousal going on. Did these guys know each other? Or just a random hookup? Either way it was exciting.

We edged a bit closer, stopped maybe thirty feet from them and stared. Roger looked around nervously but brought his focus back to the guys.

They had been looking around too, wary, and had noticed us as we got closer. They stood still, probably wondering if we were posing any threat, or maybe had any interest. There was a big guy with a lumberjack shirt, his penis erect and pointing straight out of his jeans, which were unbuttoned. His healthy looking hairy balls similarly hung outside his clothes. I salivated.

The other guy decided to wave his cock in our direction. He was slender but had a good sized cock, uncircumcised, the big head just emerging from its sheath. Looked like an invitation to me. Roger looked at me and shook his head. I was sorely tempted, but wasn't going to do anything Roger wasn't game for, so we made our way back to the van.

Coming back to the VW the thought suddenly came to me that our sweet little restoration project made for a highly visible identifier. There just aren't that many old VW buses around any more, and a nice looking one in a parking lot known for cruising would turn heads, maybe attract attention we didn't want.

I didn't like the soundtrack I played in my head. "Hey, isn't that the van I saw at Greylock last week? Were you guys perving there?"

I'd gotten hard seeing the latest set of cocks, and my own erection had been uncomfortable while walking back to the van.

We drove off, a bit undone. Roger didn't say a word.

So we drove back towards home, both of us silent, thinking about what we'd seen. About gay guys who would throw caution to the wind, hook up in random encounters, not afraid to wave their erections around in public, get sucked by strangers. Or do some fucking. I think Roger was both intrigued and a bit put off.

So I drove us to one of our favorite outdoor spots, pulled off on a space by the side of the road. It was a nice day so we took a backpack with sandwiches and a couple beers, I carried our rolled up blanket, and we hiked to a clearing we had used before, out of sight from the road. We used it often enough that we'd brought a scythe one time and cleared a good twenty foot square area on the other side of a stone wall fence, so the grasses and plants were cut back some, not so tall in the late summer. Kept the bugs down, less chance of ticks, and made a cozy little spot to spread out our blanket.

Sun felt good, we set out our food and drink, not talking much.

"Nice looking unit on that one guy." I had the image of that one cock sticking out in public lodged in my mind.

Roger shot me a quizzical look.

"Looked big to me," I went on. "But those uncircumcised ones often do, they got that extra layer of skin over everything, like an extra thick casing on a sausage."

"Wouldn't you like a nice fat one, Roger? Nothing wrong with ours, but surely a big one got to have some appeal?"

"Yeah, maybe. Certainly the ones in porn look good. But you know, what we do to each other is just fine. And there are some risks with a new one too."

"So I reckon you aren't up for another cock in our lives, huh?"

Roger's head went up and down in assent. "We got a good thing going. No need for anything else. Another penis might be nice, but then you gotta consider the guy's health, the risk of being discovered or however you want to cast it. Nope," he pointed at my crotch, "that's good enough for me. Far as I'm going to go. Safe and reliable."

But there was no doubt he had been excited by what we'd seen.

The clothes came off. A gleam in our eyes, and pretty soon there were two nice sky-pointing erections there in our special little trysting corner of the meadow.

At one point I had Roger on spread knees, arranged so I could run my hand from his ass-crack up past his balls and shaft to the top of his penis. I stroked him over and over, delighting in the change in topography. Smooth taut ass cheeks, along that bulging perineum of his, across the furry mound of his testicles, all drawn up, along his shaft with the sperm tube outlined so nice in the sun. And that cock-head, that fountain of mine that had nourished me so nicely the last two years. Just thinking of the sperm that soon would be up-welling made my own prick twitch.

We had a good satisfying session, both of us excited from seeing the other erections out in public. A good mouthful of sperm from each of us got divested that day.

****

It was late August, in my backyard while Barb was doing errands in Pittsfield and wouldn't be back until dinner. I craved these longer times Roger and I had together, unrushed, lecherous, languid.

We'd been stroking each other for almost an hour, both cocks had gotten hard, and softened, and hard again, always a bit more each time. We were sitting in deckchairs, taking a break before getting serious.

Roger cleared his throat. "So Carl, you remember those expressions guys used to use in high school? Insults?"

"Like 'go fuck yourself?'" I laughed. Long time ago.

"Yeah, others too." Seemed like he was fishing for something.

"In your dreams?" I offered.

He smiled. "Yeah, that's one."

I finally got where he was going with this.

"Kiss my ass?"

He got the most sheepish look on his face. It was not like we had been shy with each other the last months.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "That's the one."

He looked at me. This was a request.

"You want me to kiss that ass of yours, big stud?" I laughed. "Yeah, I'll do that."

His face broke into a smile. We didn't do any ass stuff, sort of the understanding we'd developed since the beginning. I was intrigued that something had changed for him.

"You clean?" I asked. His prick had started twitching.

"Yep. Emptied this morning. Took a shower before coming over."

He really wanted this.

"Will you still respect me in the morning?" I said, a mock worried expression on my face.

He roared.