The Adventures of Urlen – Chapter 9
"That's great" he exclaimed, and I wished he was saying it admiringly of my dick. But he wasn't. I'd met him at the lunch-time cafeteria service. We were in the queue together with our trays and we sat down and got talking - as students do. It was the first term of the third year of my University course; I was vice Captain of my College rugby team and careful to set an example of good behaviour on – and off – the pitch. "Q" had been sent down after doing next to no work during his only full year; Thierry and Vic had both gone and I – after the excitements of camping in France during the summer vacation - had started a relationship with a girl friend. It didn't last long! I discovered when I went to bed with her that she had more experience than I did and that I came so quickly that it left her unsatisfied.
"Is that it?" she said tartly after the first time, and the second and third were no better. I just couldn't control my orgasm – something I could have done much better with my hand. Indeed I came to feel that sex between men and women was over-rated and when she dropped me for a friend of mine I was quietly relieved. Nevertheless I was determined to go "straight" for a while and even gave up wanking for a bit. That resolution lasted all of a week – and the other determination not much longer!
Anyway, he was reading English and I found him very attractive. He was tall in gangling kind of way, with a lazy smile and a look of easy confidence. He was forthright and frank in speech and we soon discovered that we felt "sympa" about each other, as the french say. We also discovered that we both played squash, and as the University had six squash courts just round the corner from my digs, we set off after finishing our lunch to make a booking. There was a court free the following afternoon so we booked it. I almost forgot to ask his name before we left and he said it was Tom.
The next afternoon we met for our game and found we were well matched. He was athletic and moved around the court with speed. It was a close encounter which he just won. We were very hot after the game and went for a shower, standing next to each other under adjacent showers and soaping the sweat off our bodies. I could see that he was well hung, his balls were larger than mine and his uncut dick looked as if it would swell up to a good size when it was stiff. He had a line of black hair running down his chest, over his smooth stomach and on to the black bush round his dick and balls. He was a wonderfully manly sight and he didn't seem to be shy or conscious of his nakedness : he just stood there for all the world to see. However he was probably more conscious than I thought, or perhaps he saw me eyeing him because he said "I see you're like me. It's better to be uncut, don't you think?" I did, and said so. He smiled and we rinsed the soap off our bodies, dried off and changed into our clothes. "Can I offer you a beer in my digs?" I said as we emerged from the sports complex; "it's only just round the corner." "Sure" he said.
On the way back to my room we talked about our University courses and I kept thinking about what I had seen in the shower. When we were settled in my room, beer in hand, I thought of an incident I had witnessed not long before in the shower room we had just left. I was changing into my squash clothes and my opponent was late. The shower room was open and two guys were in there taking a shower on their own. Like Tom and me they had stood next to each other, but unlike us they were soaping each other, taking it in turns to rub each other's back. While one would do this, the other presented his back to his friend and they were side-on to the door through which I was looking. They were quite unconscious of me and I could see that both had stiff pricks, sticking out at 90 degrees from their bodies. When they turned round so that the other man could do the soaping they didn't seem to notice that each was massively excited until the soaping was finished, when they turned inwards towards each other. Immediately their hands reached for each other's dick and I suppose the soap on their hands made them cum quickly because I heard a sort of grunt and one of them bent at the knees and shot a wad onto the floor of the shower. As he did so the other came too, though I was so busy watching the first guy that I didn't realise until afterwards that he had done so. I knew, though, because they came into the dressing room, wrapping their towels round their waists when they saw me, but I had already seen a thin thread of spunk hanging from the end of the second guy's deflating dick.
Well, I told this story to my new friend, Tom, and it was when I had finished relating it that he said "That's great! Reminds me" he said "of a silly story I heard in the English Faculty a few weeks back. Some students were set the task of inventing a phrase of just four memorable and unusual words (excepting "of"s and "with"s) and one of them came up with 'marsupial procrastination with masturbatory intent.' That's good, don't you think?"
I did! I knew what procrastination was (like hanging back) but wasn't sure what "marsupial" had to do with it (do kangaroos hang back?). And I was very sure of "masturbatory intent" and wouldn't have minded getting off there and then. I suspect that Tom felt the same, because I could see that during my story of the two guys in the shower he placed his hand over a growing bulge in his pants and kept it there while I took in the meaning of his four word combination. "Do you have masturbatory intent?" I said, fired by the idea he was getting at. "Do you?" he said, with an arch smile. "Yes!" we both said as we jumped from our chairs and moved towards my bed in the corner of the room. "Not much procrastination here" he said as we stripped to our underpants.
We lay on the bed together and explored each other's body. It wasn't long before we pulled our pants down and our dicks sprang out like steel springs. His wasn't as long as mine but it was wonderfully thick and stiff. Both of us had straight dicks, without the "helmet" effect of a fat cockhead with a flaring rim standing out from the shaft. He had a long foreskin which I peeled back but I found it wouldn't fall into place behind the rim as mine did and I discovered he liked to wank himself off by slowly easing the loose foreskin up and down over his glans. When he found that I produced pre-cum he said some men, like him, didn't. I enjoyed the feel of his hand on my cock so much that I knew I was going to shoot my load quite quickly, so he gave it a squeeze just under the head and the precipice receded a little. "Just a little more procrastination" he said "and if you want to know why it's marsupial, just think of the pouch I'm making round your dick with my hand."
I laughed and he brought me slowly up to fever pitch, squeezed again, stroked again and then, when he could see that I was about to cum, he quickened his movement and all my limbs jerked as I shot my load onto my stomach and all over his pumping fingers. "That was so good" I said, "I haven't had a wank for a week." "So that's why you came off so quickly" he said. "You need to slow down a bit or do it more often". I didn't see how it could have been much better, even if I had, but I was obviously in the hands of an expert. "Let me show you how I do it" he said. So he took his dick in his right hand and pumped it slowly, gently covering and uncovering the engorged glans. It was a great looking dick and he worked on it slowly, head thrown back and eyes closed while I watched in fascination. Soon his breathing became more laboured and his hand movements faster; then his balls moved up towards the base of his rod; then he groaned "I'm gonna cum" and as his dick swelled to its bursting point he stopped on the downward stroke for a moment, holding his foreskin so that the dickhead was exposed. Then, with his hand stationary, he shot a jet of white cream almost vertically into the air. Then he stroked again quickly, stopping again on the down stroke to let another jet spurt out, almost as big, and then a third, a fourth and a fifth so that five pools of cum lay glistening on his stomach. He finished off by slowly wanking his shaft and sliding his fingers over his slippery cockhead as his magnificent tool gradually lost its rigidity.
"That really is great" I said in admiration as his spasms died down and he came back to earth. "Well I haven't had a good wank for a week either" he said, "And I was full of masturbatory intent."
We both laughed and after we had cleaned up and he had gone, I realised that I knew nothing more about him than his name. He could keep his "marsupial procrastination" so far as I was concerned, but his masturbatory intent (and performance) were superb!
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