Date: Sat, 4 Feb 2006 15:29:45 -0800 (PST)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
Subject: Exploring, Part 2, Adult Friends, 2/?

Exploring, Part 2
By Jackinnm@yahoo.com

	The day after Super Bowl Sunday, Chris came to my
house after work. I'd been to his several times, but
we hadn't seen each other for several weeks. I was
already naked when I let him in, and he quickly
stripped down as I took two bottles of beer out of the
refrigerator. It was a warm day in the Southwest,
unlike the freezing weather up north.
	I grilled hamburgers in my back yard which, like his,
had a high fence to block the view from the street and
neighbors' yards. One thing I had that Chris did not
was a Jacuzzi. As we ate the burgers and coleslaw, I
remarked:
	"I think you've got a bit more length." I was
referring to his foreskin, which he was restoring by
keeping it taped forward over his big mushroom glans.
	"I've been keeping it taped almost 24 hours a day,"
he said. "I really want my skin back, and I'll do
whatever it takes to get one like yours." He was
referring to my surgically restored hood, which
extended an inch beyond the end of my helmet-shaped
head when I was limp and completely covered my glans
even with erection.
	"Ready for another beer?" I asked as I got up to go
into the kitchen.
	"That's for sure," he said. "Okay if I turn on the TV
to watch the news?" I nodded over my shoulder and
within seconds one of the talking heads was reading
the news on the TV I kept on the patio table.
	"Police today are investigating the shooting of Dr.
David Brooks on the front steps of his home," the news
reader was saying as I came back with the beers. "They
do not have a suspect and sources close to the
investigation told us that there was no apparent
motive for the killing." Chris clicked off the TV and
said:
	"Holy shit! Do you know who that guy is? He's the
creep who's been pushing circumcision of all male
babies for years."
	"I know," I replied. "He's got his own web site and
he's even written a book advocating mandatory
circumcision for all baby boys. A real asshole."
Suddenly we looked at each other, thinking the same
thought.
	"Eric didn't do it, did he?" I asked. His cousin's
son Eric had recently caught up to the doctor who had
circumcised him as an infant, and had smashed his
hands with a length of rebar. The police had not had a
clue regarding who had been responsible.
	"No, Jack, I'm sure he didn't do it. I was over there
with Jerry and Pam to watch the game, and Eric was in
the house all the time, although he didn't watch the
game. Anyway, this Dr. Brooks is in California, and
that's about 800 miles from here."
	"Must have been somebody else, then. Who knows how
many people didn't like Brooks and what he stood for,"
I said. "Anyway, want to get into the Jacuzzi? We can
take a shower first, and then enjoy the bubbles."
Chris nodded affirmatively and I led the way to the
bathroom.
	"That hot water's making the tape soak off," he said.
I saw that the ring of tape around the end of his skin
was loosening, and a minute later he peeled it from
his prick, allowing the skin to slide back slightly to
reveal the long slit at the end of his glans.
	"The hot water makes me want to pee," I said. "If you
have to go, better do it here in the shower instead of
in the Jacuzzi."
	"I once saw a kid on my block pinch the end of his
skin when he peed. His skin swelled up like a balloon.
Do you ever do that, Jack?" I pinched the end of my
foreskin shut and let go, and we both watched as my
hood ballooned out with the pressure of my stream.
	"That's so cool," Chris commented. "Maybe I can do
that now if I stretch the skin out." He grasped his
prick, pulling the stretched shaft-skin out as far as
he could, enough to enclose the glans, and then I saw
his new hood begin to distend.
	Now both of us had balloons at the ends of our
pricks, and we let go, allowing the trapped liquid to
gush out onto the floor of the shower. We drained
ourselves and then rinsed off, peeling our hoods back
to wash away any urine. We didn't bother drying
ourselves, but walked out to the hot tub and stepped
in. The water was already warm when I turned on the
pump and bubbles flowed up through the water and over
our bodies. I felt Chris fingering the long nipple of
my foreskin.
	"That felt really good when you docked me," he said.
"One of these days I hope to have as much skin as you,
and maybe I can dock you." My prick began to swell
under the gentle stimulation, and I grasped his to
reciprocate. I curled my fingers around the base,
urging his shaft skin up over his rapidly swelling
mushroom tip.
	"You've got almost full coverage limp," I said.
	"Yeah, but when I get hard my skin goes back off the
head. Yours still covers your tip when you've got a
hard-on."
	"The warm water's very relaxing, and it's going to
make the skin of our pricks and balls relax too," I
said as I continued to pump his penis gently, feeling
it harden in my hand.
	"I can feel the skin of your cock already relaxing,"
he replied. "The end of your hood's not as tight as
usual." He began stripping back my sheath, and I felt
the hot water enveloping my helmet shaped head.
	"That feels nice, the combination of your fingers and
the hot water. If I hadn't already peed I'd be doing
it now."
	"Maybe not, with the way you're getting hard," Chris
observed. "I never can pee with a hard-on."
	"I can't either," I responded. "Anyway, you're making
it very hard." Chris pulled my foreskin forward again
and slipped his finger inside it, slowly massaging my
glans.
	"Does that feel good, the way I'm running my finger
around your helmet?"
	"Oh, yes," I whispered. His fingers caressed the
broad upper surface of my swollen helmet, and then
circled around my corona.
	"I like the way your rim flares out," he said as he
worked his finger down one side and up the other. I
pulled his partly completed hood up and down,
compressing his corona with each up-stroke, and then
pulling down hard to stretch the nerve endings.
	"I came last a week ago," I said. "What about you?"
	"The same. I think we both really need to shoot our
loads." I got to my feet, pulling him up with me and
shutting off the pump. We went into the bathroom and
dried each other, our pricks still fully hard and
standing out in front of us.
	"Your cock swings when you walk," he commented. "I
like that, whether the skin's covering the head or
not. It really looks cool."
	"Yours does too," I said. "It's heavy-ended, like
mine. Now your skin's pulled back and I can see the
whole mushroom head." We went into the bedroom and sat
side by side on my queen-size bed, still fondling each
other's pricks. I felt his finger slip inside my
foreskin again, and my prick jerked in response.
	"Your tip's very sensitive," he said. "I hope mine
gets sensitive like yours when I'm finished."
	"It's already more sensitive, at least around the
rim," I pointed out to him. "We found that out last
time."
	"Yeah, and my rim's gotten shiny like yours from
being constantly wet inside that skin."
	"That'll do it," I explained as I resumed pumping his
slack skin up over his corona. "Keeping it constantly
moist does increase the sensitivity, instead of having
it exposed and rubbing dry against your clothing."
	"Our cocks are a lot alike," he continued. "Both are
about six inches, on the thick side, and straight.
Some guys' are curved."
	"Mine has a thick vein running down the right side,"
I said.
	"Our tips are both big, but with different shapes.
You've got a helmet, and mine's a mushroom. Your rim
flares out a lot at the top."
	"Yours has a long slit," I pointed out.
	"Your slit's not as long but when the head swells, it
pouts like a teardrop. I like that. That looks so
sexy, Jack." I saw natural lubricant flowing from
between the lips of his slit as he spoke, running down
the contours of his glans to make the foreskin very
slippery. The excess ran out over my encircling
fingers, and I lost my grip on his hood.
	"Guess I'll have to stroke your big mushroom
directly," I said.
	"Do it, Jack!" he said. "Your fingers feel so good on
the naked head now that it's gotten more sensitive." I
gave him several long strokes, my fingers riding over
his rim and down the taper of his glans, and I felt
his body become tense.
	"You're really close now," I said. You sure you're
ready to come?"
	"Oh, yeah, I wanta come," he gasped. "I need to blow
my load when your fingers work on my cock. I just
can't resist!" He pulled me down on the bed and turned
toward me, so that the end of his mushroom tip touched
the end of my glans. His hand, stroking my foreskin,
kept my prick pined up with his.
	"That feels nice," I said. "Your tip's nice and
smooth." His glans did feel glassy-smooth against
mine, partly because it was very well lubricated.
	"Your tip feels smooth too," he said as he continued
to pump my foreskin and I twisted my fist around his
now naked glans. "Maybe we can come together if we
time it right."
	"Your tip's really swollen now," I commented, as I
felt the surface of his glans harden with his
increased excitement. "You'll be creaming any second."
	"Oh, oh, oh," he moaned, losing control as his eyes
rolled back in his head.
	"Let yourself go, Chris, don't worry about me," I
urged. His first cry of ecstasy filled the air as his
back arched and he thrust his prick hard against mine.
I felt the hard throb in his turgid glans as the first
hot jet poured from his slit, coating my helmet and
foreskin.
	He cried out again in agonized ecstasy as another
torrent of cream poured out over my prick and my
fingers, and I felt the throb of his mushroom against
my glans as it pumped out his fluid. The heat of his
hot lava triggered my orgasm, and I grunted hard as my
insides convulsed, sending my own torrent forward to
meet his own.
	We were groaning and grunting mindlessly, lost in the
throes of orgasm, as our juices mixed, spilling over
our joined pricks, our fingers, and the bed. I felt
the throbs of his glans in orgasm hammering against
mine, heightening my ardor. My eyes were closed,
normal for me when I go through orgasm, but the
sensations were washing through my body, from the
tingling tip of my prick down to my toes.
	Our bodies strained against each other, caught up in
the fury of orgasm, as our pricks gushed again and
again, swollen heads and throbbing shafts sending
messages of joy to our brains. My conscious mind shut
down, and all of my attention was focused on the
thrills running through my prick.
	The orgasm faded, and I lay very still, aware of the
thin seep of residue working its way up my urethra and
dribbling out of my swollen orifice. Now I felt my
erection softening, and I opened my eyes. Chris was
looking at me, and he said:
	"Man, that was terrific! I really felt your big
helmet throbbing hard when you started to come. You
were only a few seconds behind me."
	"I didn't think I was going to come for awhile, but
when I felt your hot cream hitting my helmet,
everything let loose inside me," I said. We still held
each other's sopping pricks, which were rapidly
becoming limp.
	"Let's not move for a minute," he suggested. "I know
your tips gets really sensitive after you come, and
mine's a little sensitive too." I knew what he meant.
Ever since my glans had regained a protective
covering, it had become more sensitive from being
constantly moist, and as he was restoring, he was also
regaining sensitivity because the keratinized tissue
of his glans was becoming softer.
	Finally, I moved and said:
	"I think we're both okay now. Let's get the sheet and
mattress cover into the washer. They're both soaked
with our cream." I got up, and Chris joined me.
Together we stripped the bed and carried the linens
into the bathroom, where I had my washer and dryer. I
put them into the washer and added detergent. The
washer cycle would take a half-hour and the dryer
would take about an hour, so I pulled a fresh set from
the linen closet in the hall and we made the bed.
	"Time for another beer," I suggested as I led him
into the kitchen. We sat at the table, sipping our
beers and not saying much because we were lost in
thought.
	"Too bad we don't get together more often," Chris
said.
	"Oh, well, our work schedules interfere," I replied.
	"I work long hours at the store and you're a
newspaper reporter," he said.
	"Our free hours usually don't coincide," I replied.
	"I really like you, though, Jack. Even if it's only
now and then, I want to go on seeing you."
	"I feel the same way, Chris. You're really a nice
guy."
	"We're both into foreskin restoration," he said. "You
got yours back by plastic surgery, and I'm stretching
mine."
	"Well, that's a good reason for keeping in touch," I
added.

Continued in Part 3