Peter takes up the story again from Paul's point of view ... I just proofed it for him. I'll pass on to him any comments you send me - and please tell us what you think. If you want to contact Peter direct, his email is with part 4 of the story...
I emptied out that bag of give-away clothes onto the couch in a desperate attempt to find something to cover myself before Ben would waltz into the family room. Man, the stuff in there looked like toddler clothes! OK, I exaggerate; I actually did find a pair of denims that I managed to pull halfway up to my waist. But closing the zipper was tricky with my pubes getting caught in it. Good thing I had trimmed them at least. And a good thing my cock had wilted to nothing, or it never would have fitted inside....
Well to my relief John managed to get rid of Ben, and it was only John who walked back into the family room, joking about how great my dick looked squeezed into the tight pants. Actually he did more than joke, he stretched out his hands to cup them. Whoah! The mere gesture was making my cock rise to attention, a painfully impossible manoeuvre in these ridiculously tight pants. I had to ward him off. These pants were killing me.
"Do you want a hand, Paul?" John offered.
A hand to do what, tease my cock? Am I right or am I right? What a joker he was. I'm sure he could tell from the tight bulge in my pants that more stimulation was the last thing my straight-jacketed cock needed. I was almost doubling over in discomfort as it was.
"Are you OK?" asked John.
I stepped back and mumbled "These pants are just too bloody tight on me and you know it."
"That reminds me, gotta put our clothes in the dryer. Just have a seat for now." replied John.
Soon as John left I unbuttoned my pants, and then carefully lowered the zipper while my expanding flesh flopped out. Ouch! I lost a few pubic hairs in the process but luckily none of my skin got caught up. I felt a whole lot better after freeing up my expanding member, and could even sit down, but still could not bend my knees much. Heck, we had seen each other naked so much already today, I felt silly wearing these ill fitting pants in the first place. John came back with two bowls of nuts and nutcrackers.
"Our stuff is in the dryer. Crack me a few will yah? Be right back," and with that he left again.
My annoyance at him walking out again disappeared when he returned with another two open beer bottles. Now I'm not in the habit of drinking this early in the day. OK, OK, so I'm not in the habit of drinking, period. But I was not about to pass up hospitality like this. Sure our parents would not approve, but they weren't here now, were they? Today was a day of breaking rules, a day when all the familiar rules had changed.
John looked a my open denims, how my shaft was sticking out, then unbuttoned his own jeans, zipped down, and even fished out his balls completely before sitting down. Well if John could do that then so could I. I grabbed my own balls and pulled them out, clear from the pants.
"There's a good little soldier," commented John, pointing at my erect member.
"A good BIG soldier you mean," I quipped.
"Aye, aye commandant," answered John, tipping his hand to the side of his head in salute. His own cock was on the rise as well I noted.
"Good to see the BOTH of you salute me," I joked, pointing back at John's cock.
"Comrades in arms," said John. "All we need is our helmets." John grabbed one shell half of the walnut I had just cracked, and before I realized what he was up to, he pushed it on top of my boner.
"That's better, always wear protection."
My heart rate increased another ten beats per minute or so, instantly. I couldn't believe he had just done that, thought he had just been kidding about handling my boner. OK, so technically he had not actually touched my dick, but he was getting awfully close. To be honest, while we were joking around like this, I wouldn't have minded touching John's boner, tit for tat. Just natural curiosity, about that circumcised head of his, looking soft and dry and so exposed, so much different from my own boner. The tip of my own boner was still protected by my foreskin, so I tolerated the somewhat sharp edges inside the nutshell without any real problem. John's however, looked much more vulnerable. Well, too bad for him. I grabbed the other half of the walnut shell out the bowl and pressed it right on top on John's exposed head. I half expected him to yelp, but to his credit he took it like a man, without any protest, a real soldier.
In the process I never did get to touch his boner, not with my bare fingers. Worse, my own mini helmet fell off as I reached over. John picked it up and with amazing deftness put it back on with his right hand, without that hand actually touching me, and all the while keeping the helmet secured on his own boner using his other hand.
"Learn from me sonny, a veteran never drops his helmet."
"You're just looking for an excuse to hold your boner."
"No, I can keep it on with no hands, see?" he boasted, and with that he took his hand off and even stood up, tongue out of the corner of his mouth, all the while keeping the walnut shell balanced on that delicate, exposed tip of his. And then he slowly circled the couch, hands on his head, boner sticking out and not once dropping the helmet.
"Tadam!" John yelled in triumph, then puffed up his chest, beating on it and hollering like Tarzan of the apes, no longer paying attention to the nutshell which now dropped to the ground.
I had never seen John like this, so deliciously uninhibited it was almost surreal, could not quite believe we were really doing this. With Ben maybe I could have believed something like this, although not exactly like this. Ben's antics were more crude than delightful, boasting about his farts, or thinking nothing of scratching his bare ass with his hands in his pants. Once he even posed with his hips out, showing off the outline of a boner to boys and gasping girls alike. But after John had sent Ben off, John was now revealing a side of himself I had never seen, more daring and carefree than I ever had imagined.
Underneath it all it meant that he really trusted me, implicitly and completely; he was like a snail out of its shell, totally vulnerable. Well, that's how I see it in hindsight. I really didn't know what to make of John at the time, only that we were having a blast. His enthusiasm was ravingly infectious. If John could be irreverent and wacky then so could I, or if not, then I would go down trying. Feeling perhaps a touch light-headed, I started getting off the couch to mimic John's feat, but the walnut shell dropped off my boner as soon as I got up.
"No, guess you can't do it," John said, picking up the shell.
I complained it was because of my knees; I could not possibly get off the couch graciously when I couldn't even bend my knees in these frickin' tight pants. I stripped off the pants, snatched the shell out of John's hand, planted it on my boner, and carefully walked around the couch, a full circle without dropping it. So there. John applauded me.
"What are you wearing those silly pants for, take 'm off," I told him. I can't believe I blurted that out. But hey, when you're both acting crazy, anything goes. John just rolled with the punches.
"Alright, if it makes you feel better," he said, then stripped and threw everything back in the charity bag. Truth be told, it DID make me feel better, not being the only one who was buck naked here, and John's butt actually was kind of... what should I call it... cute? I don't exactly want to call it attractive, I mean, guys are not supposed to find guy butts attractive, but John's... John's body was pretty lean and muscular most places, but in contrast his cheeks were round like balloons, soft, a bubble-butt, I was thinking to myself, good enough almost to squeeze...
Stop! Mentally I had to slap myself. Don't even go there. This was my lifelong friend we were talking about. And what a friend he was, now more than ever. To be sitting with him here on the couch, listening to the music, singing along here and there, beer in one hand and the other hand on your crotch, balls hanging out... Call it a guy thing. Call it male bonding. Call it your beer glass is empty and I'll get us another one. John was such a good buddy. I had never felt closer, never more comfortable with him.
Not that we were getting mushy or so. On the contrary. Our dicks had settled again and I held up my nutcracker, threatening to crack John's nuts. He replied I wouldn't dare, but then he removed his hand from his balls in a show of defiance, as if daring me to violate him. Well, I always had been a sucker for a dare, and I figured I could tell when the other guy was bluffing.
Slowly, ominously, I opened and closed the nutcracker, then stuck them right underneath John's balls, right under his left nut to be exact, the one hanging down the lowest. I pushed the steel nutcracker up against that tender flesh, opened it wide, letting his nut drop in, and then slowly, slowly, starting to squeeze it closed... Let me tell you, if it had been MY nuts in the cracker, I'm sure I would have jumped and made a run for it. I must admit to being totally overawed by John's nerves of steel, his cool in the face of imminent castration. No guy could trust another THAT much, not with his family jewels!
However, as I closed the nutcracker millimetre by millimetre, his left nut just got pushed up and out of the nutcracker again. Lucky for him.
The fate of John's nut, wondering how far he would let me go before jumping out of reach, it had all been such a cliffhanger, that in the excitement I had forgotten about my own dick, and it had wilted in the process. Face it, your private nuts in a nutcracker, there's nothing sexy about it, it's just plain dangerous. Looking down at my deflated dickie, I actually felt a little relieved that I was able to play these naked games with John without necessarily getting an erection, well you know, at least SOME of the time it was down. John's dick too, wasn't any stiffer than a wet towel after this ordeal now.
His bluff had withstood the test. I dropped the cracker and was about to compliment his bravery, quite sincerely, but John jumped up impatiently and roared, "Now it's my turn! Don't move; I didn't either."
What had I started? I had to sit still and watch as John put the cracker not under my nuts but around my dick, and slowly started closing it. For someone who was still not touching my dick he sure was getting close. Predictably enough, it was rising up again, even if it was only steel that touched it. John opened up the cracker to allow for the expansion, but never let his grip go entirely. Instead, he pushed his implement down towards the base of my cock, pulling back my foreskin in the process, exposing my glistening head. Then he released the cracker's grip on my shaft and slid it up to my exposed sensitive head.
"Ouch!" I said, and pushed John away. For a second John hesitated as if contemplating some new attack, but then he thought better of it. He didn't even say I had lost the dare. Instead he just grabbed our empties, and said he had to go take a leak. By the time he came back with more beer, my dick had settled again.
As John sat down his foot touched mine. I noticed how much better his foot looked compared to my own. My feet looked pale and almost blueish. John's feet were tanned and solid like a marble sculpture. "Your feet are beautiful" I blurted out, and then bit my tongue at how awkward that sounded. But John was not put out by my remark in the least. He raised that beautiful foot of his, all the way up to my crotch.
"And your dick is beautiful" he replied, patting it with the ball of his foot. And with that touch, it rose up once again, instantly.
"Look, I made it stand up," he boasted.
"It's easy to make it stand up, the hard part is getting down," I grumbled. Not that I was embarrassed about my boner. Not with John. Not anymore. We were WAY past that stage. And besides, John's own pecker was rising up again too.
"If you want it to go down all you have to do is move around a little" advised John. By way of demonstration, he got up, and starting jumping around to the beat of the music. It was a fast song and his dick did settle down.
"Is that supposed to be dancing?" I asked, confident I could do much better myself.
"Alright you show-off, lets see YOU dance," John challenged me.
So I got up on my feet, did my fancy steps and swayed my hips and shoulders, the whole nine yards, really getting into the groove of things. John, he tried to copy me and all but tripped over his own feet. Very BEAUTIFUL feet, mind you. (Did I mention that before?) Anyway, to steady himself, John ended up dancing with his hands on my shoulders. In return, I put my own hands on John's hips, it just felt right and John didn't seem to mind. Whatever inhibitions we might have had already had vanished a couple of beers ago. We were just dancing away, heads down, watching each other's dicks sway with every step we took.
At first they swayed freely, then a little more stiffly as they started to swell, and in the end not at all as they arose once again to rigid attention. Up, down, up, down and up again, it was a game our dicks had been playing all morning long. Sure I was already used to getting lots of erections, being the hormone charged teenager I was. But I'm certain I had never lived yet through a morning with this many ups and downs, and certainly never a morning in the presence of a fellow naked body, with not only our dicks going up and down, but also the blood pressure, the rush, the mix of fear and anticipation rising and ebbing time and again. That queasiness in my stomach, it wasn't just the beer, I knew.
The song had ended but John just kept one hand on my shoulder and with the other he reached for my shaft and pushed down my foreskin using his thumb and index finger. The touch of his skin on my skin was electrifying. I almost swooned as we stood there, both of us looking down at our heads, mine more pointy and completely wet, John's mushrooming out and mostly dry, with just a single bead of moisture at the slit of his blunt tip.
Next came a slow song. John stepped up closer, his arms snaking around my neck, my own hands falling down to his soft butt. As our bodies pressed together, the sensitive tip of my boner brushed past John's soft mushroom head, and our firm shafts pressed between our bellies. The music might have slowed but my heart was speeding up, pounding in my throat.
It happened. Just like that. Jizz gushed out of my dick. Literally gushed. And again. The world was turning black behind my eyes and spinning and I had to keep holding on to John to keep from fainting and falling. There was a wet mess on my belly and on John's belly and probably on the floor too. It should have embarrassed the hell out of me but I was too dazed. John, he was very sweet about the whole thing, gently lowered me onto the couch, got the box of paper tissue, wiped the both of us and told me to rest...