Date: Wed, 7 Jun 2006 13:05:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
Subject: Exploring, Part 27, Adult Friends

Exploring, Part 27
By Jackinnm@yahoo.com

	Jim phoned me at work and told me that he had to meet
with me, and introduce a colleague who had something
very interesting to relate. That evening around six, I
saw Jim's car pull into my driveway and I watched him
step out, accompanied by another man who was slightly
taller than he. Jim's companion had a large flat box
in his hands. When they stepped in the odor told me
that they had brought a pizza with them. I led them
into the kitchen where Jim's colleague placed the box
on the table.
	"Hi, Jack, this is Doug," Jim said. I reached out and
shook hands.
	"Let's eat before it gets cold," I suggested. "We can
talk while we're eating." We sat around the table and
dug into the pizza hungrily.
	"Doug's from our Washington Bureau," Jim began
between mouthfuls. "He normally covers the beltway,
but this time something strange came up and he
mentioned it to me." Jim nodded toward Doug, who took
up the story:
	"None of this made the papers," he began. "A few
weeks ago a doctor disappeared in Washington. At first
it looked like just another missing person case, maybe
someone sick and tired of his wife or something like
that. Then I found out who he was. It was a certain
Doctor Peeler, and what he did rang a bell. Jim had
told me about these circumcision doctors getting
popped around the country, and suddenly I saw the
connection. Peeler was the Chairman of the Society for
the Neutralization of Infant Prepuces, or SNIP. They
lobby for universal male circumcision, and are pretty
aggressive about it. They send speakers to medical
schools and hospitals to try to promote policies
requiring all baby boys to get circumcised before they
leave the hospitals."
	"They even sent someone to lobby the National Midwife
Organization," added Jim.
	"They tried, but weren't successful," Doug continued.
"The midwives don't like this regimented baby-cutting,
and they threw him out. Midwives are into natural
childbirth with minimal medical intervention, and they
don't support unnecessary surgery for mother or
infant."
	"Is there any reason to think Peeler was killed?" I
asked.
	"No direct evidence," replied Doug. "However, Jim
told me about the shootings around the country."
	"I explained to Doug that these killings were by
people who used different weapons, and one even ran
down a doctor with a pick-up truck. Either it's
different people or one guy using different methods to
cover his trail."
	"The more incidents," I added, "the less likely it is
that one person is doing them all."
	"That's what I thought," Doug said. "This time,
someone's done a Jimmy Hoffa on Dr. Peeler. Maybe in
the next 40 years they'll find his body at the bottom
of a mineshaft or in the foundation of a building,"
Doug laughed.
	"As you can see," Jim said. "Doug isn't exactly
broken up at the prospect. The doctor clipped him when
he was born, and he's resented it ever since."
	"I don't blame you for resenting your mutilation," I
sympathized.
	"Thanks, Jack," Doug said. "I've resented it ever
since I found out that I didn't have all the equipment
I was born with. My father wasn't cut, and I don't
understand how he ever allowed my mother to consent to
it."
	"I felt the same way," I added.
	"I know some guys say they don't mind having been
clipped. I can understand that too," Doug said. "I
know how painful it is to admit you've been uselessly
mutilated. Some guys just can't face that fact."
	"Denial," Jim chipped in.
	"Well, resenting it won't do anything positive for
me, so I don't brood about it," Doug said with a grin.
"At least, I brood about it as little as I can."
	"Yeah, you can't let yourself spend your life burning
with resentment," I answered.
	"Jim told me that you had plastic surgery to put back
the foreskin," Doug commented. "He said he got himself
a new foreskin without surgery, just by stretching the
skin on his shaft."
	"Right on both," I replied to his unstated question.
"I guess it's show-and-tell time," I added. "Between
Jim and me, we can tell you the pros and cons of each,
so that you can decide for yourself what's best for
you." Doug and Jim nodded, and I began undressing.
They quickly followed. By this time we'd finished
eating, and we moved our chairs away from the table so
that our groins would be easily visible.
	Doug's penis was small, smaller than Jim's limp, and
I wondered how much it would grow with erection. I
noted the jagged scar about half an inch behind his
corona. He stared at Jim's prick and especially at
mine as I began to explain what we'd done to restore
our foreskins:
	"You can see that the end of my prick's redder than
the shaft skin. That's because the plastic surgeon
used some skin from my scrotum to replace the outer
layer of my foreskin, and he cut loose a section of my
shaft skin to invert it over the glans for the inner
lining. The scarring came from infection and a
hematoma. He actually was a lousy surgeon. Jim's prick
turned out much better looking because restoring
involved no cutting. He did it all himself with tape,
stretching the skin over the glans."
	"Does the skin go back?" asked Doug.
	"Mine does," Jim said. "Here, try it. It slides back
pretty easily." Doug reached for Jim's prick, and
seemed surprised at how easily the foreskin slid back
off Jim's helmet.
	"Now try mine," I said. "It's a little tighter than
Jim's but still goes back." Doug's warm fingers closed
around my prick, and I felt the pressure on my helmet
as he pushed my foreskin back. Doug was becoming
excited from handling our foreskins and I saw his
prick beginning to swell. Jim's was already half-hard
from Doug's having manipulated it.
	"That's it, just keep going," I encouraged him as my
foreskin stretched over my helmet. "Mine has a big
glans and the skin has to stretch over it."
	"Doesn't that hurt?" Doug asked, with a note of
anxiety in his voice.
	"No, not at all," I replied. "Just keep going." I saw
that Doug's prick was now hard, standing at a full
five inches, about the same size as Jim's erection.
Now that the glans was swollen, I saw that it was as
small as Jim's but different in shape. Instead of a
helmet shape like mine and Jim's, Doug's glans was
more like a mushroom, with a flat corona that lacked
the distinctive upward sweep of the helmet type. His
slit was tight and closed.
	"There it goes," Doug said as my foreskin rode over
my flaring corona and dropped into the deep groove
behind it. His handling had made my prick swell, and
it was almost hard. Now the three of us had our tips
exposed and Doug looked at all three.
	"Now Doug," Jim began to explain, "You notice that
Jack's tip and mine are glossy and wet. That's from
being constantly covered with foreskin."
	"Yeah, Jim, mine is dry and the texture is sort of
leathery," Doug replied. "I guess your tips are more
sensitive than mine too."
	"Yes they are, Doug," I said, answering his question.
"The good news is that your glans will regain its
sensitivity once you start keeping it covered with
skin.
	"However, the foreskin, with all its nerve endings,
iis gone forever," Jim cautioned. "Sorry, but you'll
never get that back."
	"Jim and I manage to live with that," I contributed.
`We both feel that half a loaf is better than none."
	"Does the increased sensitivity really make sex feel
better?" Doug asked, with a touch of envy in his
voice.
	"It really does, Doug," I answered. "For example,
before my restoration my prick was so insensitive that
I had to tighten my crotch muscles to get to orgasm."
	"I know what you mean," Doug interrupted. "I have to
do that too. I can't come unless I tighten up."
	"Now I can relax and let the orgasm come to me, so to
speak," I continued. "I don't have to sweat it. I know
that a certain amount of friction will give me my
orgasm."
	"Doug," Jim chimed in. "Both Jack and I don't have to
rub as hard, or press as hard, to get to orgasm. You
know that some guys have to pound their meat to come.
Jack and I just have to stroke lightly."
	"That seems wonderful," Doug said. "I always had to
pound my meat to come and I wish it weren't so
difficult."
	"We can demonstrate it for you," I suggested. "Jim
and I can let you handle our pricks and stroke our
foreskins so that you can see it takes less time and
effort to come."
	"I'm willing," added Jim. "You're welcome to handle
mine. I'll even work your cock to make you come too."
	"Would you do that?" Doug asked. "I'm more than
willing." I got up and led the way into the bedroom,
where we quickly stripped down. Both Doug and Jim had
five-inch erections, while mine measured six without
the foreskin added. I sat on the bed and Doug sat
beside me, fingers eagerly wrapped around my hooded
prick as he began stroking me gently.
	"Man, your cock's nice and thick," he exclaimed as he
worked my foreskin to cover and uncover the glans.
"You've got a terrific helmet, too." I sighed with
delight as Doug stroked me, while Jim squeezed some
Astroglide from a plastic bottle onto Doug's bobbing
prick. Jim spread the viscous lubricant thoroughly
over the hard prick and began stroking it, twisting
his fist around Doug's glans on the up-stroke.
	"Here, I'll give you a couple of drops too," Jim
said, squeezing some Astro onto the blunt dome of my
helmet when Doug brought my foreskin down to bare it.
"Jack doesn't have as much lube as most guys do, and
he can always use a little more," he explained to
Doug.
	"It feels more comfortable lubed," I expounded. "Even
when I'm limp having the foreskin lubed feels better
for me. Now that you're stroking it, a little lube
prevents friction burns." Doug's fingers were firmly
grasping the skin of my prick, fist behind the head,
and sweeping it up and down to deliver friction to my
helmet. I quickly noticed that he was squeezing my
prick more tightly than I usually did, and realized
that he was accustomed to manipulating his circumcised
penis, which was much less sensitive and required more
pressure. However, his stroking felt good, and I
realized that the only effect would be to bring on my
orgasm more quickly than usual.
	"That's nice," I sighed, and I felt my prick twitch
as he gave it another powerful stroke, bringing the
bunched foreskin up over the helmet and compressing my
corona as he did so. I lay back on the bed, certain
that I'd be releasing my sperm within a minute, and
abandoned myself to the compelling sensations.
	Doug wasn't even close to coming, as Jim's stroking
was much lighter, and it would take minutes to bring
his desensitized prick to the peak. Jim placed a towel
on my stomach to catch the cream that he knew would
soon be forthcoming. A tickling began in my flaring
rim as Doug compressed and rubbed it with my sliding
foreskin, and I knew that this was the beginning of
the end. I relaxed consciously, but the tickling
intensified, and began spreading all over the helmet
because Doug was bringing my foreskin all the way up
to touch the blunt dome, as well as drawing it down
behind the rim.
	The tickling became much stronger and I felt my
awareness of my surroundings slipping away as my
attention totally focused on the delicious sensations
in my prick. Doug brought my foreskin all the way up
and then squeezed my glans, producing a responsive
throb in the root of my prick. My eyes closed, and I
prepared myself for the explosion.
	The tickle became almost unbearable, and then
suddenly changed to a hot tingle that exploded in my
helmet and traveled down my shaft to trigger the first
spasm. I cried out helplessly as the first surge of
hot cream shot into my tube and burned its way upward
to pour out of my distended slit. Doug's hard grip on
my prick quickly brought forth another convulsion deep
inside me, and I tumbled into the mindless free-fall
of orgasm. My prick throbbed as it shot another long
rope of cream and I cried out again.
	The heavy tingle in my tip became my entire world,
punctuated by the hot spasms in the root of my prick,
and I discharged another load of cream. Now my tip was
becoming overly sensitive, and I moved my hand to stop
Doug from his insistent stroking. I grasped his fist
and held it tightly, while he continued to squeeze my
prick. My last few discharges emptied me, and soon I
was quiet and utterly still.
	"You made Jack come pretty fast because you used the
same pressure on his cock you use on yours," I heard
Jim saying in the distance. "Use less pressure when
you do me."
	"Okay, I understand," Doug replied. "I can hardly
feel your stroking, and I guess my cock's a lot less
sensitive than yours and his."
	"That's right," Jim confirmed. "Now do you want to do
me or do you want me to finish you first?"
	"I'll do you," Doug replied. "You just tell me how
much pressure to apply when I stroke you." Jim let go
of Doug's prick as I opened my eyes and then he lay
flat on the bed next to me. I sat up to watch as I
wiped my stomach and prick. The odor of chlorine hung
heavily in the air.
	"Thanks, Doug," I said as I cupped Jim's scrotum in
my finger. Doug began stroking Jim's foreskin over the
purple head. drawing it down behind the rim and then
bringing it all the way up to encase the turgid glans.
	"That's about right, but don't squeeze as much," Jim
coached Dou
g.
	"You made me come pretty quickly," I added. "That's
all right, but the longer it takes for the build-up,
the more intense Jim's orgasm will be. Take long slow
strokes and you'll do fine." Doug slowed his pace
somewhat, and took long deliberate strokes, making
sure the foreskin came back far enough behind the rim
to expose the groove, and then bringing it up to
enclose the glans and form a pucker at the end.
	"That's fine," I coached. "You're making sure the
front dome of his helmet gets stimulated, and you're
stretching the nerve endings in the skin on the
back-stroke." Jim began breathing more heavily,
because Doug's measured strokes were having an effect,
and I was gently kneading his balls to add to his
arousal.
	"Remember, stay relaxed," I told Jim.
	"I'll try," he replied. "Doug's doing a great job on
my cock, and after watching you lose your cream I'm so
worked up I can't last long." As Doug drew Jim's
foreskin all the way down I placed my other hand and
stopped him.
	"Look at Jim's helmet," I said. "It's gotten darker
purple. That shows he's close. You can probably feel
that it got harder even through the skin."
	"Oh, I know," Doug confirmed. "His tip got harder
just like yours did before you exploded. I felt that,
all right." I let go of his hand and he resumed
stroking Jim's hot excited prick. Natural lubricant
oozed from Jim's slit, making his already glossy glans
glisten more in the soft room light, and he breathing
became heavier.
	"Oooohhhh," Jim moaned, and I knew he was trying to
relax despite the gentle but insistent stroking of his
foreskin by Doug. I saw his stomach muscles tighten.
	"Jim's balls are really tight," I pointed out to
Doug. "He's close. Just go gently." Doug slowed his
stroking slightly, drawing out the stimulation and
prolonging the moments of anticipation for Jim. I knew
the feeling, the sensation of being poised on the
edge, eagerly awaiting the hot explosion that would
blow you into orbit.
	Jim's dark purple tip seemed angry as it strained
with the sensation. Lubricant began leaking down over
Doug[`s encircling fingers, and I knew that Jim's
prick would begin spewing any second. His stomach
muscles tightened, and now his outstretched legs began
trembling as the sensations overtook him.
	"Oh, Oh, Oh," Jim moaned as the sensations in his
penis reached their peak, and I felt a throb where my
fingertips touched the skin behind his scrotum. Now
his jaw clenched and his eyes closed as his prick
spewed a long rope of white cream onto his stomach and
chest. I quickly placed a towel over him, just in time
to catch the next copious discharge. Jim's hips bucked
as he cried out in joyful agony, shooting a long hot
stream onto the towel. The odor of his chlorine filled
the air as he drained himself under Doug's massage of
his foreskin. Jim's hips bucked hard and I told Doug
to stop stroking, instead just holding his prick with
the skin tightly back.
	"Just keep the nerve endings in his skin stretched,"
I said. "That's enough to keep him going. Uncut guys
get very over-sensitive in their tips when they come."
I noticed that Doug's prick was still fully hard, and
I knew he was drawing vicarious pleasure from stroking
Jim and feeling the hard prick throbbing between his
fingers. Doug's glazed eyes were fixed on Jim's
spurting penis as the jets gradually eased and then
changed to a steady ooze.
	Jim lay there, drained, for a couple of minutes and
then propped himself up on an elbow. I had wrapped my
fingers around Doug's warm prick and began to squeeze
the shaft and glans to keep him going. Now Jim sat up
and pushed Doug flat, spreading some Astroglide on the
naked tip and working it in with his fingers. I placed
a towel on Doug's stomach, anticipating a tremendous
discharge because he'd been excited the longest.
	"How's that feel, Buddy?" Jim asked as he massaged
the lubricant into Doug's glans and shaft. "That doing
it for you?" I now cupped Doug's balls, feeling their
thick covering tighten between my fingers.
	"That's nice, but can you squeeze a little tighter
around the head?" Jim, accustomed to stroking his more
sensitive penis, wasn't using enough pressure to
satisfy Doug's desensitized nerve endings, and he
tightened his grip. I knew I would have made the same
mistake with any circumcised penis.
	Doug's well-lubricated prick glistened as we watched
its head turn a darker purple, swollen with blood. His
scrotum was contracted between my fingers, and now I
saw a ripple in the towel as his stomach muscles
tightened. His breathing became heavier.
	"I think I ought to go faster," Jim suggested, and
Doug nodded his head. Jim increased his pace and began
twisting his fist around Doug's tip to enhance his
sensations. Jim and I both knew that a rapid twisting
motion around the corona was supremely exciting from
our own experiences.
	"His tip's really hard now," Jim declared. "I can
feel it." Doug's legs began trembling and he stared
fixedly at Jim's fist flying over his turgid prick. I
saw his jaw muscles clench a moment before he grunted:
	"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" Doug vocalized as a long stream
of semen shot from his slit, landing on the towel.
Doug threw his head back, totally captivated by the
frenzy of his orgasm, as Jim's fist pumped his prick
to bring forth another jet of hot cream that filled
the air with its characteristic chlorine odor. Jim and
I watched in satisfaction, enjoying Doug's orgasm as
the straining prick poured out more juice.
	"That's four jets now," I commented as Jim continued
to work his fist around the hot, throbbing glans to
draw out more fluid. I saw that the next jet wasn't as
thick or powerful, and the following ones became
dribbles as Doug exhausted himself. Jim kept up the
stimulation, confident that Doug's circumcised glans
would not become overly sensitive from the continued
friction.
	Now the dribbling had become an ooze, and Jim stopped
stroking as we watched Doug's erection begin to
collapse. Jim laid it tenderly on the towel as we
watched Doug relax and we waited for him to emerge
from his daze.
	"That was nice. Thanks, guys," he said as soon as
he'd recovered.
	"We all enjoyed this," Jim said. I nodded agreement.

Continued in Part 28