Quicker Still !byzaphod40©
After my gap year between school and University, in which I had met both Steve (“First Fumblings”) and Ollie (“That was Quick”) I became a fresher, had a room in College and joined the College rugby team. Rugby is a tough, physical contact sport requiring courage and specific talents according to where you play on the field. Before a game the changing room is fairly quiet but afterwards it’s pretty boisterous and rowdy. There’s a lot of manhood on show in the showers and changing-rooms and most players just let it all hang out. That’s how I came to notice Phil, who had the most remarkable pair of balls I’d ever seen. Everyone noticed them and, I think, felt inwardly jealous that he had such a splendid sac between his legs. It gave promise of fantastic virility, even though his dick was relatively small.
He was different from Steve, who was good-natured, easy-going and a bit credulous. The eldest of four boys in his family, his father had been an Olympic athlete. He was a good athlete himself and very brainy, very ambitious but less open-hearted than Steve. On his wall in his room he kept a calendar on which he marked with an asterisk the days on which he had had a wank. I saw it once. It showed that he would lay off for about five days and then there were asterisks for the next three days! After my experiences with Steve and Ollie I was intrigued and wanted to see how those enormous balls of his performed. Amazingly, an opportunity soon arose for me to find out.
During the Easter vacation of our first year we went on tour in Wales, playing several matches and seeing the famous tourist sites. A highlight was a two-day trip to a small offshore island which had once been used by the Army for target-training. The former barracks still stood there, including a long dormitory with roughly sprung beds, a rudimentary kitchen, a refectory and a small room full of pipes for drying out clothes. The only inhabitants left on the island were the two keepers who worked the light-house on the rocks facing the Atlantic ocean. I remember well the open-boat voyage to reach it, the spray that drenched our clothes and the rocking motion over the waves. When we reached the barracks the first thing we did was to dump our gear on our chosen bed and, as luck would have it, I landed up next to Phil. There were no curtains in the dormitory, so when we were all in bed that night I could see the outline of his body in his bed. And while the rest of the team settled down to slumber I watched, hoping to see the movement which would indicate that he was having a wank.
He was quite restless and kept turning in his bed, so I knew he had not gone to sleep. Every now and then he would sigh – and then, about twenty minutes after lights-out, I saw his left hand creep down the bed and make a hump over the area of his groin; and then his right hand started moving, gently at first and then more vigorously. Soon he was hard at it, so, greatly daring, I leaned across and touched his bed. He got the message and the movement stopped. Consider, then, my surprise when, after a pause, he leant out of his bed and whispered to me "You can DO me if I can see you." Maybe this was because he knew I had an eight incher, but "doing" - our word for mutual masturbation - was an extraordinary offer because it was frowned upon as implying homosexual practices and none of us wanted to be considered in any way "queer".
But it was too good an offer to turn down, so I said "Where shall we go?" and he said "We'll meet in the drying-room. I'll go first and to avoid suspicion you follow five minutes later." And with that he got out of bed as if he was going to the toilet and left the dormitory. Those were five minutes of exciting anticipation for me as I imagined his cock spurting a huge load of sperm as I ran my fingers up and down his shaft. I joined him, horny as hell, five minutes later. He had switched the light on and was sitting on the floor amidst a pile of rugby shirts, boots and other clothing. It was very warm and humid in that room. I sat down beside him, undid my pyjamas and took out my dick so that he could examine it. Normally I would have been shy about doing this but after my experience with Steve it seemed easy. He was very interested in science and is now, I think, a senior neurologist in a hospital, and he certainly gave my dick a thorough examination, exclaiming at its size and stiffness and the pre-cum but in no way trying to "do" me. Because he was himself circumcised he gave my foreskin special attention, moving it slowly up and down to see how it worked and enjoying the different ‘feel’ of it.
When at length he had finished I said "It's my turn now" and he immediately lay down so I lay beside him and undid the top button of his pyjama jacket. As my hand slowly reached for the next button down I glanced up into his face. His eyes were tightly closed and he was living the moment, relishing every move I made towards the bulge I could see below, anticipating the orgasm to come. When the jacket was open I ran my hand down his smooth, pale chest, and rested it for a moment on the draw-string of his pyjamas before pulling it open and drawing out his cock. It was very neat and straight - but no more than five inches. Sticking up over his enormous balls it made a striking sight which was somehow out of proportion. The tip was dry but I knew he was hot from his quick breathing and the way those magnificent balls were close up against the base of his shaft. I gently moved my fingers over his quivering glans and closed them round the shaft just under the head. Gently I pressed down for the first stroke and immediately it erupted! No pre-cum, and just one single spurt of super-sperm-enriched white semen which landed in a blob on his stomach. At once his dick went limp in my hand whereas after an orgasm mine stays hard and then semi-hard for a bit before relaxing. It's amazing how different we all are!
Well, given his intense interest in my dick and his carrying out to the letter our quickly-made agreement in the dorm, it was no problem for me to say "Would you like to see me cum?" and for him to nod his assent. So I gently massaged my exposed glans with the pre-cum which was oozing out of me. I found after the excitement of watching him cum that it took me slightly longer to reach a climax than usual, but Hell! was it worth it! When I came, it was like a fountain of spurting spunk and the spasms were as intense as any I had ever had. He was mightily impressed because there was so much more juice than he had produced and we both returned to our neighbouring beds in the dormitory with much to think about. I realized then (and now) that the size of your balls is in no way related to the amount of semen you ejaculate, though it must surely affect the quality of the sperm produced. That single glob of spunk on his stomach probably contained enough sperm to populate a village!
I don't know what he thought about me, because it was partly an experiment for him (as it was for me) and we never repeated it. Steve just loved coming off for the satisfaction of it and went for it in a big way, whereas with Phil there was a biological/scientific interest. As for me, there was a bit of both of them in my make-up and I've remained fascinated by masturbation and the differences between individuals to this day, more than thirty years later!
I don't think there was any harm in what we did and that sort of thing must have been going on in the armed services and at College, with young men at liberty from their homes for the first time, for yonks. But what I could never have guessed at the time was that he was but the first of four members of the rugby team that I would have sex with during my three years at University. And there were one or two others as well!
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