“Wow,” Tim observed, “you’re still pretty impressive, John. I guess you must have made quite a few ladies happy with that.”
John smiled awkwardly. He was a bit surprised at how forthrightly Tim had spoken, but then, no more so than when they had been much younger. “Not really, Timmy.”
“Really, man, I mean, honestly. I wish I had your package.” Tim did feel a bit self-conscious standing naked in front of John. Not only was he naturally smaller, but the cold water made him look all the worse. He was also uncircumcised. All that one could see was a lumpy little tube of furrowed skin, like he had a peanut all wrapped up in an oversized cloak.
John teased him. “Well, I hope it does get a bit bigger than that. I mean, can she even find it?”
Tim was surprised at that remark, and relieved. A remark like that from just about anyone else would be demeaning and aggressively insulting. But, they had teased each other quite openly when they were young. He smiled; maybe the old John was coming back? “You know it’s shrunken up from the cold and wet. It’ll be fine in awhile.”
“I know that,” John replied reassuringly, but he continued to tease him. “I remember you got it up pretty big for Lucy.”
Tim’s face flushed again with that memory. There was one time when the two of them agreed to drop their pants for this girl in their neighborhood. She wanted to see a boy’s erection. Both Tim and John complied behind a few pine trees in her backyard. “That was kind of fun, wasn’t it.”
“Lucy was pretty darn impressed with your pecker, as I recall.”
It is curious though how memories will vary. Tim noted, “Yea, until she saw yours.”
“What?” John replied. “That’s not how I recall it. I think she had a thing for you.”
“It was your thing she had a thing for, at least after that evening. She used to follow you around after that night. Hey, by the way, what ever happened with her? You went out with her, didn’t you?”
John wanted to change the subject, or at least he wanted to change back. “No, I swear, I think we were about the same size once we got hard. Here, let me show you.”
Tim’s draw dropped as he saw John reached for his own penis and began to stroke and squeeze it with his right hand.
“What are you doing, man?” Tim asked incredulously.
John just smiled at him. “Reliving old memories, Tim.”
Tim wasn’t too sure that he wanted to be this sentimental. “Hey, man, what if someone sees you?”
It was clearly John’s turn to be bold. “If someone was going to see us, they would have by now.” John just stood there comfortably in front of Tim, handling his cock, which was clearly beginning to swell in the soft light of the night.
Tim’s eyes were transfixed on the sight of John’s hardening dick. His heart was pounding with a confused, nervous excitement. It was true that they had done such things as kids, more than once. But, it seemed to have a different meaning, a different implication, then. He wasn’t too sure he wanted to take part in this.
But, it would be awfully weird and perhaps irreversibly harmful to their relationship if he suddenly just left now. He could perhaps though tell John to at least stop playing with himself. Frankly, that should hardly seem to be an odd request. But, John was an odd guy. Always had been. Apparently, jerking off in front of you was not odd to John. And, he had to admit, it wasn’t really odd when they were kids. On the contrary, it had been exciting, fun, and really much more than that. It cemented the fact that they were best friends, the closest of friends. He would stick it out for awhile, so to speak, for John, at least for the sake of their history together.
John could see the apprehension on Tim’s face. “Really, Tim,” he said. “You shouldn’t be so uncomfortable about your body. We used to be very comfortable with each other. Why should that have to change? Why be so uptight now?” It was now John’s turn to remind Tim of the past importance of their relationship.
Tim nodded, although with considerable apprehension. He looked at John’s growing cock. He remembered watching John’s thing grow when they were adolescents, as his own grew as well. But, he had never done anything like that since then.
It was rather awkward now, at his age, to watch another guy get a hard-on. He knew that there was something wrong about this. He really shouldn’t be doing it. It wasn’t like he was a homosexual, not that there is anything wrong with that.
But, then, there was something appealing about it, seeing the soft, limp member slowly become harder, thicker, longer, stiffer. He watched as the head of John’s cock grew particularly swollen, all red and flush with energetic, engorged excitement.
John stopped pulling on it. His cock was now quite stiff and erect, like a proud staff jutting out manfully from his body. He was an impressive sight.
“What do you think?” John asked.
Tim didn’t know what to say. “It’s, uh, well, it is pretty big.”
“Is that all?”
“What? What else can I say? Geeez, man, you got your wacker all sticking out there!” Tim looked around, wondering again if anyone could see them. They were standing on the downward slope of a small hill. There were trees to the left and to the right of them; the lake in front of them. Nobody was likely to seem them. It was reasonably private, but, still, it was outdoors.
“Relax, Tim. We’re safe here.”
Tim wasn’t so sure.
“Besides, it’s kind of fun doing this outdoors, right out in the open. Taking a chance like this. Remember when we pretended to be prisoners of the Amazon women in the jungle? To save our lives we had to satisfy the Queen’s daughters, in front of the whole tribe.” He again reached for his cock, stroking it softly to maintain his stiffness. “We had to keep our erections until we had pleased all of the daughters.” He said more softly, “C’mon, you try it now.”
Tim knew that there was a part of him that wanted to do it. He recalled how much fun they had the few times that they had shared in this kind of stuff. He was often though a bit, actually, a lot, embarrassed about it later. He never did, and would never, tell any of his other male friends about it. They might think it queer or weird. But, these were perhaps among the most fun and certainly the most intimate of times he had spent with John. He felt a stirring in his loins.
“Let me just see how big you can get it. I bet you that, in the end, it will be about the same as mine, perhaps even bigger.”
Tim would like to at least leave the evening with his pride, his manhood, restored, or at least his pride in his manhood restored. His manhood seemed somewhat on shaky ground, particularly if his college friends could see him now, his terribly limp weeny contrasting with the upright stiff cock of John. “Alright, but don’t tell anyone I did this.”
John laughed at that. “Now Tim, who would, who could, I possibly tell.”
He had a very good point there. John was now entirely outside of Tim’s circle of friends. Tim in fact didn’t even have any idea who John’s friends were, or even if he had any. He hadn’t even known John was a Templeton student until he saw him in Miss Harding’s class. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said as he reached down for his own penis. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Just like old times,” John said. Tim self-consciously grasped his penis in his thumb and forefinger. He picked it up and began to stroke it. He liked to use just two fingers when he played with himself. He squeezed it, and drew the foreskin on and off of the head.
He felt self-conscious to be doing this in front of someone. He hadn’t ever even done this in front of a girl before, at least not from the very beginning. He kept pulling on it, stroking it, but he was making little progress. This itself became embarrassing to him. Not only was he smaller than John, and very small right now, but now he couldn’t even get it erect when he wanted to.
John could see his discomfort. He moved up to stand at his left side. Tim’s heart pounded harder. John put his right hand on Tim’s shoulder and said quietly, “Let go of it.”
“What?” Tim asked, quite apprehensive about where this might be going, but he did let go.
John told him, “Close your eyes.”
Gladly, Tim thought. His self-consciousness decreased with his eyes shut, but then rose sharply as he felt John’s left hand grasp his limp penis. “Wait,” he meekly protested.
John spoke calmly, “It can be a lot easier if someone else does it. Just keep your eyes closed and imagine that it’s someone else, someone whom you have always wanted to hold your cock, to stroke your big, masculine cock.”
That wouldn’t be hard to do, as he wanted to quickly forget the fact that it was John’s fingers now on his penis, holding it, stroking it. He imagined that it was Miss Bixley, the Romance Languages teacher. He did have the hots for her. She was so terribly pretty, so cute. He masturbated to her many times at night, and, he now found that masturbating to such a fantasy was a lot easier, a lot better, when it wasn’t his own hand doing the stroking. John’s hand was certainly bigger, stronger, more masculine than Miss Bixley’s, but it was a lot easier imagining that John’s hand was hers than it was to imagine when it was his own.
He very quickly began to swell and harden, imagining that he and Miss Bixley had gone skinny dipping, and that she had become curious about what he would look like if he got hard. It was admittedly a dumb fantasy, but its closeness to the real thing made it easier to imagine. He began to breathe more slowly, more deeply. A sigh of pleasure even escaped his lips as his cock swelled in John’s hand.
John’s heart was also beating faster. His own cock swelled a bit, even without any physical contact. “It’s getting really hard,” John whispered.
With the sound of John’s voice, Tim, for a moment, forgot his fantasy. He imagined, more accurately acknowledged, that it was John’s hand holding his cock, and, he did not recoil. He did not even feel upset. His heart rate quickened, although this could simply reflect a rising tension with the realization that another man was actually masturbating him.
But, perhaps most importantly, his erection did not go away. If he thought about one of his current male friends seeing him like this, doing him like this, his arousal would become overwhelmed by a self-conscious embarrassment, but once that thought was gone, all he felt was John’s hand, his fist, sliding up and down his cock. His thoughts then stayed with the reality.
And, he would have to admit, John was good at it. John didn’t just do one thing. He didn’t just grip the shaft with his fist and slide it up and down, as had been the case a couple of times with girls Tim had dated. It wasn’t that they weren’t good at it. He sure as heck enjoyed it, but some girls didn’t really get in to exploring the possibilities. John did. He tried different things. He would twist his fist as it moved up and down the shift. He would at times just play with the head of his erection with his fingers, exploring and caressing the curves and ridges of the swollen crown with the tips of his fingers, or even just with the palm of his hand, rubbing around and around the tip of his cock against the soft cushion of the palm, and then adding to that a soft grasping, caressing of the ridge of the sulcus with the tips of his fingers. He would bring in his other hand, briefly using both, each one doing something different, or both doing the same thing, then back to one hand again. The variation was itself really nice. He would also just use the tips of his fingers to stroke the shaft, a quite different feeling from the more common fist technique that Tim’s past dates often seemed to prefer. One would think that the full hand grip was more stimulating, as there was more contact, perhaps even more pressure, but Tim personally found that using just the fingers to grip and stroke felt better. He couldn’t explain it, he couldn’t justify it, it just did, at least to him.
And, most importantly, John sensed this. He seemed to adjust and alter his technique with the reactions of Tim. How he did sense it, how he could sense it, was not clear. It could be cues in Tim’s breathing, a change in the expression on his face, or even in the swelling or twitching of the cock, but the explanation again did not matter. What was so evident to Tim was that John was really very good at this, and he was enjoying it.
For a moment he even felt an excitement, a thrill, realizing that it was in fact John’s hand grasping his hard cock. He then noticed the touch of the tip of John’s cock occasionally bumping him, touching his abdomen. He felt an impulse to reach out and grasp his as well, but he knew he shouldn’t. That would be wrong. That would be too weird. It was weird enough to actually be enjoying the feel of John masturbating him.
John was himself openly enjoying it. He smiled with pleasure at the feel of Tim’s stiffening erection within his fist. He had always wanted to do this, ever since that night in Lucy’s backyard, and only once since then had he even had the opportunity, but it was quickly cut short. His fantasy was now coming true, and he dwelt in the pleasure of the moment.
Whenever he used just one hand on Tim, he used the free hand, usually the left, to keep himself hard. Actually, he probably would have stayed hard even if he didn’t use his hand. The feel of Tim’s hardening cock in his other hand was enough to keep himself quite stiff. But, it did feel good to play with his own cock as he played with Tim’s.
“Open your eyes now, Timmy,” he said, as he let go of Tim’s fully engorged cock.
Tim was feeling a little breathless. This was a most unusual experience, but any time his cock was so hard and stiff, the experience would be awash with an intense sense of pleasure. Tim looked down. His cock was indeed rock hard: the shaft pointing up and out at a sharp angle, the bulb a deep purplish red.
He smiled. His dick did not look so small now. In fact, he felt really good about it.
John said, “Alright then, here, let’s compare them.” He stood up tight against Tim’s side. They both smiled as they looked down at their parallel erections. They both felt quite proud and, for the moment, relaxed in their mutual feelings of sexual arousal. This did bring back fond memories of the evening in Lucy’s backyard.
Tim did not feel self-conscious, even though John was standing right next to him, their naked shoulders and arms touching, and, most importantly, each sporting a stout, bold hard-on. “I still think you’re bigger,” Tim observed.
John could see that he was right. Anybody could actually see it. But, John wanted to make a closer comparison. “It’s hard to tell this way.” He moved over to stand more at an angle. “Here, let’s get them side by side.”
That was hard to do, but Tim was losing all self-consciousness as they laughed over their struggles to line up their dicks for comparison. Their hardness made it all the more difficult. They kept bumping them against each other. John would crouch down, as he was a few inches taller than Tim, but then lose his balance as they tried to maneuver their dicks so they were entirely parallel to one another, side by side. Facing each other seemed the easiest way, but it was also the oddest way, at least to Tim. They finally had their cocks facing and pressing against each other. This did indeed provide a good comparison of thickness and height. Their balls were aligned as well, and bouncing against each other as the shafts of their hard, erect cocks were firmly standing, skin to skin. To keep them from sliding out of place, John grasped them both in his large right hand.
Tim’s heart was once again pounding, now with excitement as well as tension. There was something quite arousing about feeling another erect cock firmly pressed against his own. Two hard erections in their own special embrace. It didn’t hurt that John’s hand was also, once again, tightly wrapped around his cock. Tim gasped, “You see, yours is bigger than mine.”
“Yes, you’re right, but not by much, not as much as you would have expected. Yours clearly grew a lot more than mine did.”
Tim had to admit that was true. John’s was clearly bigger, but his was a reasonable second. It felt good to realize that his stout erection stood up well against John’s, literally as well as figuratively.
John let go of their cocks. They did not though separate entirely. They were still touching at their tips, bowed against each other, like the swords of two knights saluting each other before a duel.
John observed, “It’s like their giving each other an Eskimo kiss.”
Tim stepped back in self-consciousness. “Now what?” he asked. He noticed that they were just about entirely dry. The soft breeze had helped. Perhaps they should just get dressed?
John realized that he might have gone too far with the kissing allusion, but he did not back off. On the contrary, he stepped back up to Tim. “Here, why don’t you stroke mine as well, for a bit.”
“You’re kidding me,” Tim replied.
“No, why not? I did it for you. It would be only fair.”
That’s true, but holy cow, that would seem to be crossing the line. “We never did that when we were kids,” he protested.
“Actually, that’s not true, Tim. Remember the sleep over?”
‘Crap,’ Tim thought. He was right. It can be amazing what you forget from your past. They had touched each other, and for quite a bit of time, at least as he remembered it now. But, most importantly he felt at that time, not for all the way. It’s was just a normal healthy curiosity. Neither of them had girlfriends, no apparent prospects for getting one, at least one who would likely ever touch them there. So, they had tried it, just briefly, just to see what it would be like.
And, it had been exciting. So exciting though that Tim quickly stopped before it went too far.
The memory of that excitement now returned. He could feel his heart really pounding. He had to admit, at least privately to himself, that he was curious how it would feel, how it would feel to hold another guy’s cock in his hand. This was a thought that would occasionally cross his mind, but would just as quickly be dismissed and suppressed. Only with John could he have ever admitted this thought, but he would not do so even now, even though John’s hard cock was so much right out there, although perhaps precisely because he also had such an openly stiff erection was why he couldn’t admit it. That would seem awfully gay, not that there was anything wrong with that. Man, he felt really confused, even a little light headed. He looked down, bashfully, and reached out with his right hand to gingerly place it on John’s stiff dick.
As soon as he touched it he could feel his heart kick into even a higher gear. He quickly looked around again, staring into the darkness around them, listening for sounds other than the wind through the leaves, the bull frogs croaking, the crickets chirping.
This was too weird for words. His mouth went dry. He was right out in the open, standing naked in a warm summer night, a hard-on bursting forth from his body, his own hand grasping the hard cock of another man.
He thought that if this was the hard cock of anyone other than his old friend John, his old best friend, the kind of friend you will never have again, he would be pulling his hand away like he had touched a red hot steel pipe. Instead, he just let it stay there.
John quietly sighed with pleasure at the soft feel of Tim’s timid hand. “Go ahead,” he encouraged him. “Get a good, hard grip.”
“This is strange.” Tim said, not a particularly articulate expression of about a hundred thoughts and feelings he was having, but it was the best he could do.
“Yea, I suppose,” John replied, “but nobody has to know. C’mon, just pretend like it’s your own.”