The Bowl of Green Glass

The bowl of green glass, heavily fluted with perhaps a hundred and fifty indentations running around its long circumference, rested upon a round mahogany table set, in turn, upon the rich Persian carpet in the centre of the room. The indentations formed the upper end of ornamental fluting flowing down to its centre both within and especially without the bowl, to where a floral design had been impressed, a floral design so intriguingly reminiscent of the female genital orifice. The bowl about sixteen, maybe seventeen inches across and maybe three inches in height at its edge.

The mouth of the glass bowl was broad and open; and, as described, almost a cubit across. The lovely glass bowl appeared very much as a flower in full, wide bloom, the indentations of the rim like the distal ends of anthers, the flutes like their filaments all encasing a receptive ovary. Formed to a man's scale, it was to be men who filled the green bowl with their inseminating fluid.

The men filed in. Ten men fresh from the steam room, the sauna and the massage. The young women, bare breasted and beautiful, had pummelled and toned them. Other nights their penises might have been taken in hand by the women and worked, or there might have been extensive copulation or other sexual work. Ten men to three vaginas was not a problem. The men's burden, their heavy balls, could have been unloaded sequentially and each man assessed the three different vaginas for size and fit. Three women, three gorgeous young women; one so black, one so white and fair and one so in between, a girl hailing from the Indian sub-continent. All so desirable, all so expert in the art of pleasuring men.

The men were each dressed in little more than a strip of fine silk; gathered around the waist; a strip of fine silk that held their genital organs, but hid very little. The shapes of ten penises and accompanying gonads easily discernible through the gossamer thin material. The young women had not been deceived, had seen the penises strain against the silk but they had not touched, had not allowed oil to drip upon the silk and render it transparent so that both sight and shape of the organs were revealed. It was not a night for them to touch such things, however firm, however manly, however needing. Not a night for them to ease the semen from the penises, carefully and gently stroking them until they delivered their burden. Not that night. Certainly, not until later.

Lenny Branksome was new to the society. He was not yet a full member, merely a novice, a prospective initiate. He had attended a few meetings and had enjoyed unburdening himself within the young women. And he carried a heavy burden. His penis was large, and his balls matched, his testes hung low and heavy when unsupported. Within the silk they were somewhat held, a gentle swing to the thin silk as he moved; slightly turgid penis and full balls swaying within the material as he walked into the chamber. His body felt toned and glowing from the bathing and massage. The shining oil on his skin delicately perfumed with an intoxicating blend of sweetness and spice. How he had wanted to penetrate the young women as they had massaged his body.

He had been aroused by his preparation. The three young women had done their work well; had it not been for the so desired initiation he would have wanted nothing more than to unload his burden into or upon them. He could imagine his hot white spend and how it would look upon each of the so different women's breasts, stomachs and faces.

Behind them the door was closed leaving the men alone in the room, empty of furniture but for the small low table, the round glass dish and a bottle resting upon a low shelf under the table.

The men of different ages, all shining with the oil and heated by the massage, some tall, some short, some with somewhat protuberant stomachs betraying the good life. Captains of industry, successful men who could both afford the society's fees and were of such a standing as to be invited to join. Lenny had been invited by one of them, the short man with the particularly rounded belly, a knighted gentleman indeed. It had been a roundabout invitation; harmless inquiries leading to a discussion of the pleasures of the flesh, the delights of young and willing women - most definitely the plural had been mentioned. And then the question about engaging in sexual relations other than with his own wife: not a relationship but purely for the pleasures of the flesh, of sexual activity - the release of semen in many ways, had been touched upon. He had been invited to a meeting and had readily accepted the invitation. It had been an evening of carnal pleasure; he had retained no semen for his wife when he had returned home late.

As with most secret societies, he had only learnt of its more unusual customs as he had ventured further in. Brought up in a background that strongly disapproved of homosexuality the realisation that not all the flesh he would touch would be female hit him hard. Lust and a strong desire to belong to such a select and influential club overcame scruples. He accepted that a group with a name 'The Brotherhood of the Penis' was unlikely to be other than fraternal with their male organs.

Nothing of that nature had occurred - until now. Within the room there were no women present, just men; it was obvious something was about to happen. Two hands reached and began to untie the knot that held his silk around him, the knot tied just above the crack of his taut bottom. He did not know what the ritual of joining involved. It could so easily involve... anal penetration. He felt the fingers undoing the knot and realised it was so positioned above the bunch of nerve endings at the base of his spine - an erogenous zone. Would he feel fingers - male fingers - trickling down the crack of his bottom and touching his anus; would he feel fingers tickling and stroking before pushing into the heat? 'Joining' could so easily involve the joining of bodies by the penis, the Brotherhood penetrating and joining him one by one - a symbolic joining. Or even, and he had thought of that, he had speculated within his own mind, the joining in a circle. Penis pushing into his bottom and his penis pushing into another man's and him into another until the joining went around in a circle. Lenny looked at the bowl in the centre of the room, would they circle that, bottom fucking each other, as they walked round and round?

Awfully, the untying of the knot and the movement of the silk against him had caused him to erect fully. His large penis was pushing the thin silk upwards and as the two men fully unwound the silk from his body, Lenny stood before his peers exposed, his body utterly naked with his nine inch penis soaring up, rampant and with a fine upward curve. Below his balls, dropped from the silk, swung gently. The President nodded his head and made a particular gesture with his hand - the thumb and forefinger apart and pulled sharply downwards. It was a masturbatory movement, a male masturbatory movement and Lenny took it to mean that he should uncover his glans, partly covered by his prepuce. It was strangely difficult to do with the nine men watching him, a further uncovering - a total revelation. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of - a cock any woman would be proud to handle complete with a deep coffee coloured shiny head and prominent deeply curving corona, a concavity in shape to the upper part of the glans before the dark edge, contrasting with the convexity of the whole bulbous knob. He stood there, his long, veined, black tool there for all the members to see. Proud and potent. Had he been meant to be erect?

Slowly the other men unwound their own silks letting them drift to the floor. Each too was fully erect, hard penises everywhere in the room. Some large, some not so large. Ten men with their generative organs extended and upright and not a woman to be seen. The Brotherhood of the Penis indeed! Lenny would have preferred had the initiation perhaps been a communal fuck. Rather than the small table in the centre of the room, a larger one with one of the lovely girls spread-eagled upon it, perhaps her sex right at its edge and her legs bound to the table's legs; her sex exposed and open, perhaps liberally splashed with scented oils. The table on a bearing so it could be rotated and the girl's sex, and maybe her mouth at the opposite side, her head hanging from the edge, easily accessible to all as the table was spun. A communal fuck, until the girl's oiled sex ran with male cream, and maybe her mouth as well and all ten penises hung limp and spent - in brotherly rest.

A most pleasing idea but again it could have been something darker. A girl drugged and whisked away to be tied to the table - an unwilling participant. Or worse - but, would it have been worse - his own lovely young wife similarly drugged and brought there and tied. Him expected to decide there and then whether to go through with the ritual or be cast out of the society - and very likely the most lucrative business deals. Him nodding in reluctant acceptance as penises other than his own penetrated his lovely wife. Having to watch penis after penis push manfully into his wife's dark sex until it ran with semen and him the last to enter, to bathe his penis in both his wife's juice but also that of all the other members of the society - a communal mixing of semen in that so special, to him, place.

Maybe it would simply be a mass ejaculation over his wife - what the Japanese call bukkake; perhaps for him then to mount his wife and press her breast to breast but she all slippery with his fellow members' semen. There were many possibilities. Thoughts of what the ritual might be ran through his sexually aroused mind.

There was no point trying to look away, not see the other men's cocks; there were too many and, if anything, looking away was quite the opposite of the politeness of the society. Would he be asked to grasp, perhaps take hold of two of his fellows, maybe stroke them? He had not touched another man's penis, still less his erect penis. What would happen?

The President invited him forward from the circle of naked and erect men standing around the room, incongruous in their naked arousal in the plushness of the room, towards the green glass dish standing upon the table, closer and closer until he touched it, feeling it cool on his exposed glans. A sensation causing it to jerk. The President nodded and motioned for him to come further forward, to bring his long penis over the bowl until, lifting his testicles he dropped them over and down the inside of the bowl. His penis head soared across the bowl halfway; his penis its radius. Against the back of his scrotum the glass was cool and stimulating, the corrugated edge touching more nerve endings just behind his hanging balls. He looked down noting almost absently that his right testicle hung lower. One by one the men stepped up to the table, bringing their erections over the bowl, letting their testes momentarily rest on the bowl's cool edge before slipping - perhaps being balls 'rolling' might have been the better description, down into the bowl. Foreskins drawn back so the men were fully exposed. Not that Mr. Turgay Güneş, a somewhat corpulent and jolly Turkish gentleman had any foreskin to retract.

Ten penises standing out over the bowl, ten penises radiating out from the centre - the 'Brotherhood of the Penis' indeed; a dish full of cocks; a bunch of male organs; a meeting of members. Ten upright penises forming perhaps the framework of a tent over the bowl. Had a circular piece of silk been placed over them it might have looked, sort of, like the 'big top' of a circus.

The ten men tight packed, naked thigh to naked thigh. Ten erect penises standing pointing up and towards each other; ten swollen bulbs close packed and almost touching; twenty testes hanging in their scrotal sacs down the smooth glass side of the bowl. Lenny stared in half disbelief at what he was doing, at where he had placed his long black cock. The men were good company, very good company and influential, but to be like that... He was sure it would get worse. He thought of the young Indian girl who had been massaging him. Might she be involved, might it all suddenly get so much better. How good it would be to be engaging with her, but that was not the Society's way, not all the time.

The President made a short speech of welcome, talking to the other nine naked men huddled around the bowl, extolling the Brotherhood, the penis, their soaring penises and balls clustered together in the Society's bowl. And then he drew back, his balls slipping up - or drawn up - the smooth sloping sides of the bowl and rubbing and bouncing over the corrugations; his shaft dropping down so it too was dragged back over the fluting at the edge, until just his swollen glans rested on the edge, his fraenum engaged. The rest of the members followed suit one by one from his right; balls dragged back and up the sides of the bowl, followed by the shafts until around the bowl's rim were ten bulbs, swollen but not yet leaking, all resting upon the edge.

The President made the first move and then so did the other members, Lenny a quick learner, following suit. They all began to rub their penises across the bowl edge, not the whole way in but perhaps half a penis' length into and then out of the bowl, the sensitive underside being rubbed by the hard glass corrugations. It came to Lenny that there had been no touching, no penis had touched another penis, no hand had fondled him and he had not been required to touch, fondle - let alone suck - another (or nine) penises. It had not been as he had imagined or expected. But what would happen would be a communal ejaculation. All would see the others come. The male sexual act, a private thing, would be displayed. Was, perhaps, he meant to come first? As the newest member, was he meant to ejaculate before the other men or was it polite to be last?

But could he do it? He had thought - and he had thought a lot - the initiation would involve oral or perhaps what might be called 'bottom' activity and, maybe, a rubbing together of penises. All perhaps rather more stimulating than the slow rubbing against glass. But this, communal masturbation against the cold edge of a bowl and nothing to maintain arousal but the sight of ten cocks doing the act and the rubbing back and forth was not so direct nor as strong as might be the rubbing of hard penile flesh against hard penile flesh, or the wet sucking of a mouth or the hot smoothness of a rectal passage. But that was, perhaps, the purpose; for the men to concentrate on the penises, become absorbed in contemplation of aroused masculinity and sufficiently aroused by the sight of their fellow members to ejaculate. Was it intended that his thoughts would be upon the male, a concentration on the male organ? Was he meant to be thinking what it would he like to suck one, to feel what a penis would be like in his mouth; would he like to stroke others like he sometimes stroked his own until it ran, feel the throbbing as it spurted and feel the man's pleasure?

The masturbation, the rubbing proceeded in silence; the men's thoughts kept to themselves; were they thinking of the lovely girls who had massaged them so well or were they concentrating on the erect organs before them, becoming the more excited at imagining them coming, the semen spurting - the so visible male sexual act? An excitement in the anticipation of ejaculation.

As Lenny had feared, the President announced Lenny would be the first to 'grace the bowl.' What a phrase.

He stared at the penises thinking of the Indian girl; the President's penis was exuding a thin thread, it was swinging and hanging nearer and nearer the glass, Lenny felt his semen must be the first to touch the glass. So often he wanted to hold back, to prolong the pleasure of being on the edge, indeed relished that almost ecstatic feeling but now he wanted quite the opposite. He needed to come. It was expected.

"Mr Branksome, your semen please."

Ten swollen glans penises rubbing against the rim of the bowl, pulled backwards and forwards over the 161 flutings; ten men clustered tightly around the low table moving in and out in time; ten firm cocks edging towards manly release. Lenny felt himself slip over the edge and his balls rise. He had achieved - he had brought himself to that point of no return and an inevitable public orgasm. At that moment he wished the lovely Indian girl held his balls and felt their burden lift when he came to empty himself into the glass dish.

That moment had arrived. Lenny watched, the nine other members of the Society also stared as his penis jerked and began to exude. Not a gentle patter onto glass or a running, but a strong spurt across the bowl almost to where its other side rose up to the rim; and then out came the first of two major spurts, a pulse right across the bowl to splash and spread out across the other side and directly below the President's sliding penis. Was it done or not done to ejaculate over another member's 'member'? Perhaps not, perhaps most definitely not the President. A third pulse of translucent, creamy semen shot across the bowl to splash against the other side and then there were lesser pulses as Lenny finished his unburdening. All across the glass dish streaks of his semen, perhaps like the hands of a clock showing half past twelve or maybe six o'clock. The President nodded.

And then, one by one, the other penises ejaculated. Turgay Güneş was next, his thick foreskinless, and indeed fraenumless, cock gave a little jump and a small spurt of clear fluid left its end and then it started to run, a steady stream of white pouring down into the bowl. Sir Patrick Spry, indeed no less a person, the chairman of an enormous multi-national and a patron of the arts, came next. Was it a privilege to stand naked with such a man - of course! Was it a privilege to belong to the same club as he - of course! But to ejaculate with him, to be with him when his intimate and very personal equipment was so exposed and, moreover, to see him come was - of course - a privilege. How hairy the man was, his balls almost hidden and his penis half covered in black hair. Clean shaven and his head completely bald, who would know what a beast of a man was hidden under his sharp suits - a hairy man, a 'wodewose.' His penis curved unusually upwards and when he came it was very much a fountain, not immensely strong but not a mere trickle or run; a proper fountaining, up in the air and down into the bowl's centre. Lots of the stuff. Deep breathing from his barrel of a chest and then a deep sigh at its completion. Sir Patrick had, evidently, very much enjoyed his ejaculation.

Chanti-Ching's long but thin penis was next, sending out short sharp burst of cum, staccato like as if from a machine gun, spitting across the bowl. Lord Yardborough's gnarled and brown erection was presented next. Lenny hoped he would do as well when he reached the peer's age. Eighty-one apparently, but his firm penis did not betray that, though the snow-white hair it rose from did not hide the man's age. No fine spurting but the semen came, pulsing and flowing from the end of his cock, dripping down into the communal bowl. Lenny wondered how many times in his long life had Lord Yardborough's penis exuded. He silently wished him many further happy returns!

If Lenny had expected the President to come last, he was mistaken. From the President's fine member jerked more semen, it was thrown most way across the bowl. A good spend. Then a sigh from the man to Lenny's left and he watched the penis ejaculate almost as he had watched his own - from above rather than across or at an angle around the bowl. Despite his reputation as a very hard man, a man who drove his subordinates, he was not big cocked. Perhaps that accounted for some of his aggression. His penis, certainly as bristling in the air as his moustache and as firm as any around the bowl, if not firmer and more upright, could not have been more than four inches long, rather thin but with a surprisingly big knob, very much a knob that over-sailed its stalk. What Jock Sturgeon lacked in penis he made up for in ejaculate. Strong spurts across the bowl to the other side, strong and repeated spurts with a surprising delay between them. Lenny counted eleven in all. He did not know why he had been counting. It was an unusual evening. It was certainly the longest of the orgasms. Jock Sturgeon looked around the group with a belligerent yet self-satisfied air as if to say, 'I may have a little cock but I cum better than any of you!'