Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 07:13:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
Subject: Shower Power, Masturbation, 1/1

Shower Power
By Jackinnm@yahoo.com

     I love taking showers, because they're erotic if
you know what to do. I always skin back when I get
into the shower, pulling my long, pendulous foreskin
all the way back until the tight ring of skin lodges
behind the high flaring rim of my big helmet. This
lets me feel the hot water sluicing down over the big,
tender head, and rinses away any piss residue. It's
both clean and erotic, and by the time I'm finished,
my cock-head is shiny and swollen to double its normal
limp size. Limp, my cock-head is about an inch long,
and I have two inches of foreskin. Full-hard, my glans
measures 1 7/8" long and almost that in width. Maybe
it's because of the hot water, or maybe because of the
tourniquet effect of the tight foreskin wrapped behind
the rim, but I always find the big rim flared out even
more than when my cock is flaccid and the head snugly
wrapped inside its thick, fleshy hood.
      Sometimes I go for it right in the shower,
standing back so that the needle jets beat down on my
sensitive purple glans, enjoying the powerful tickling
feeling, until it become irresistible and I pour my
cream into the water. I usually dribble, but sometimes
the effect is so shattering that my cock pumps hard
jets from its big swollen tip. In any event, using the
shower as an impromptu vibrator is both erotic and
convenient, because the water washes the cream down
the drain and any that dribbled onto me is easy to
wash off.
      This time, however, I wanted to take my time,
and I knew that the shower would pull the orgasm from
me in only a minute or two. I stepped out of the
shower, looking at my swinging cock in the mirror as I
reached for my towel. I saw that, although my cock was
still limp and the shaft its usual diameter, the head
pouted, the broad upper surface glistening wetly, and
a drop of water was ready to fall off the big rounded
end. My inverted foreskin filled the deep groove
completely and formed a thick, fleshy collar around
the neck of my cock. I squeezed my crotch muscles a
few times, making my cock bob up and down with each
contraction.
      It looked as if only my cock-head had an
erection, because the shaft was still limp. The head,
though, was turgid and when I lifted it I saw in the
mirror that my piss slit was no linger just a slit,
but that the lips had parted in the shape of a
teardrop, just like when I get an erection. There was
no lubricant seeping from my orifice, although I was
becoming excited. I grasped my thick ring of foreskin
and pulled forward, drawing it over the engorged rim
and down my glans, until it stretched out beyond where
the cock-head ended. Normally, my foreskin forms a
nipple in front of the head, and even with full
erection there's enough skin to cover it completely.
Now, I was stretching it, pulling on the sensitive
nerve endings, and arousing it to full erection.
      My cock began to respond and I felt the shaft
swelling in my hand as water dripped from my body. I'd
let the towel drop to the floor in my fascination with
the workings of my favorite toy, then sat down on the
toilet lid. I pulled back my foreskin again, baring
the tender swollen head. I think the most beautiful
part of the cock is the head, with its compound curves
and pink or purple coloring. I normally keep my hood
forward when I'm not using it, to protect the tender
and sensitive glans, and think it looks just as nice
that way, as well. To me, the bulge of the glans in
the long hood is a hint and promise of the inner
beauty.
      I peeled it back completely again, observing the
coloring of my hot glans. It was dark purple at the
prominent rim, especially the back-face, vignetting to
lighter purple forward, and a rose- pink shade around
the hole. Now a drop of lubricant filled the orifice,
and when I swept the hood forward it spread the juice
over the tip. I pulled the skin back and ran a finger
in small circles around the hole, spreading the
slippery lubricant over the sensitive surface. I truly
enjoyed that sensation, and continued until the lube
dried up.
       I put a few drops of non-drying lube on my
cock-head because I knew that the heat of my cock
would evaporate my lube quickly, and dry friction
doesn't do as much for me as wet friction. Spreading
it with my finger, I enjoyed the tickling sensation as
I worked over the broad upper surface, dropped to the
gee-string underneath, and finally traced the rim all
the way round. I decided to change hands for variety.
      Now I grasped my shaft with my right hand and
closed my eyes as I worked the tip of my left index
finger slowly around my hot swollen glans, imagining
that it was another man's finger. That always gave me
an extra measure of stimulation, because feeling
another guy's hand on my cock was always supremely
arousing for me. I've had many satisfying mutual
masturbation sessions with other guys, who were
experienced enough to know how to handle a cock other
than their own. There are differences in anatomy,
pleasure patterns, and preferences, and a guy who
understands this can provide a super hand job.
      I had a mental image of Emil, whom I'd met in
Denver, and I imagined him working his finger around
my naked glans. I'd had more than one encounter with
him, and on one occasion we'd gotten each other
super-excited with fingertip stimulation that we'd
both shot ribbons of hot cream during orgasm. Emil's
cock was uncut, like mine, and we'd made full use of
our foreskins, slapping them back and forth before
we'd reached the twilight aura just before climax. The
odor of natural man-cock filled the room, adding to
our excitement. Then we'd slowed down, trying to keep
our excitement at a high pitch, making it last,
enjoying the delicious anticipation, before letting
ourselves go. I'd made Emil shoot first, relentlessly
working his hot swollen tip with one finger until he
dissolved into orgasm. His cock-head darkened and
swelled until I felt his shaft throb in my hand. I saw
his face in my imagination, jaw down, panting in pure
joy, "HAH-HAH-HAH" until the abyss of climax overtook
him and he threw his head back as his cock spat its
cargo of juice.
      When he'd finished, he fingered my hot glans
until I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the
thrill of orgasm, feeling the hot jets rushing up my
cock to shoot from my gaping orifice as I cried out in
ecstasy. Now I was fingering my own hot tip, feeling
it losing its sponginess, and I stopped.
      I can't really "edge," as some people can,
waiting on the brink of orgasm for minutes or hours,
but have to let myself come down off the brink. I
waited until my pulse had slowed, and my cock softened
slightly, before I resumed. Now I was safe, and I
decided to get onto my bed, flat on my back and with a
towel on my stomach to catch the inevitable explosion.
      I resumed fingering my well lubricated tip,
feeling it harden under my touch, anticipating the
rush of sensations that would soon overwhelm me. My
head propped up on pillows, I watched my cock as I
worked my finger around the swollen head. Another drop
of lubricant emerged, and I picked it up with my
finger and brought it to my mouth. The slippery feel
and salty taste further excited me, and I was a step
closer to exploding.
My shaft was fully swollen, and become triangular
instead of round. The upper surface was flat, but
underneath there was the long bulge of the urethra, my
piss tube, swelling as it does when I'm aroused. My
foreskin formed a thick fleshy collar right behind the
swollen purple head, connected by the gee-string that
ran into the triangular groove under the head.
      I closed my eyes again, remembering another
instance in which a partner had made me come with the
finger technique. He'd used several fingers, running
them around my tip, until I was quivering with
arousal, my legs twitching and my stomach muscles
contracting. I was leaking lube copiously and his
finger spread it around the head, making me gasp
"HUNH-HUNH-HUNH" because the sensations were son
intense. I tried to remain relaxed, to prolong it as
much as possible, but eventually I gave way and show
ten-inch jets onto my stomach, wetting my pubic hairs
as I writhed in ecstasy.
      I knew I was close, and didn't bother to open my
eyes again. I was right on the brink, and carefully
slowed my touch to prolong the anticipation. I felt
the aura of the pre-orgasmic state as the outside
world faded, and I was aware only of the delicious
sensations on my cock. I felt my glans harden as I ran
my finger around it slowly, and I knew I hadn't far to
go. My entire world was in my cock, and I felt a
tickle in my cock-root as another surge of lube forced
its way up my cock.
       Close to the abyss, I imagined that it was
another man's finger expertly running all over my
cock-head, stimulating different areas to avoid tiring
out the nerve endings in any particular spot. My cock
tightened in my grip, and I felt the pre-orgasmic aura
swell and then explode in a rush of sensations. A hard
throb filled my cock-root, and I dissolved into orgasm
as the first rush of cream filled my tube. Now I was
operating only on animal instinct, and I stopped
fingering my turgid tip as I fisted my foreskin fully
up over the throbbing head. A heavy masculine odor hit
my nostrils as my lubricant and cream mixed, dribbling
down my cock-head to lubricate my flying foreskin. I
slid the hood up and down sharply, needing the
sensations, as my cock spit its streams with every
throb.
Now I smelled the sharp, clearly defined odor of
chlorine as my cream soaked the towel. This gave me
another surge of excitement, and I howled in joyful
agony as the full force of the orgasm hit my brain and
shut down my conscious mind. My only instinct was to
keep pumping my foreskin back and forth over the hot
sensitive glans to enhance my sensations, and I pumped
hard and fast.
      I was totally caught up in my rapture, and had
no though or image of anyone else now. My throbbing
prick, with burning jets erupting from the tip,
captivated my attention totally. I felt another heavy
gush pour from my tip as I writhed in ecstasy. The hot
blasts from my engorged tip were the only things I
felt, and my fist kept sliding my hood up and down,
torturing the head, until I'd shot my load. My glans
suddenly became too sensitive, and I was forced to
stop as the last dribbles seeped from my distended
orifice.

     The end