Date: Sun, 3 Sep 2006 00:26:09 -0700 (PDT) From: Fantastic Foreskin Subject: Coming Attractions ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- This story is only half true, although I assure you that the juiciest parts went down in real life, and the rest (namely the orgasms that SHOULD have followed) most certainly occur every time I relive my memories of the time I was bold enough to whip my dick out in the movie theater... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The movie was lousy, some bullshit about a bunch of horny teenagers trying to get laid, and I'd stopped paying attention about 10 minutes in. Instead, I was watching Ben, who sat absent-mindedly rubbing his chest through his grey workout shirt beside me, eyes transfixed on the screen, nipples dimpling the smooth cotton surface. It was hard to get a good look without turning my head, but I was mesmerized by him. I was 19 then, still relatively inexperienced. Ben was 23, already two years out of college and gorgeous. His mouth hung open slightly, lips pouty, profile illuminated by the light thrown back from the screen, and I wanted to pull him toward me and kiss that beautiful face. But our relationship wasn't like that. This was our weekly ritual -- every Wednesday, Ben and I would meet at the two-screen theater four blocks south of campus to catch a matinee. We'd see whatever was playing, most times enjoying the theater to ourselves. When the place was deserted, we'd prop our feet up and crack jokes the whole way through. But not today. An old guy sat a couple rows ahead of us. He laughed at everything, like it was only yesterday when he'd been screwing a pie himself or whatever the hell was going on in the movie. There were at least two couples, and way up front, four high school kids (I doubt they were even old enough to see R movies by themselves) sat jostling each other every time a pair of panties crossed the screen. I sympathized with them. Seeing movies with Ben always made me horny. He'd talk about sex stuff with me all the time, but treated me like a younger brother, and that drove me crazy. He only dated older guys, he said, although he never seemed to have a boyfriend. I did everything within my power to get his attention. I'd even teased him that I'd drop my shorts and watch the movie naked the next time we caught a movie by ourselves, just to see what he would say. It's not like I'm porn-star huge or anything, but I've got a nice package, and I wanted Ben to see it. I must have figured if he got a good look at it, he wouldn't be able to resist -- the delusion all men harbor about their equipment, I've since learned -- and I'd walked into the theater that day determined to show it off. There I sat, hating the movie, cursing the others in the theater for spoiling my plans and trying to ogle Ben from the corner of my eye. He laughed at some throwaway joke, and I stole the opportunity to glance over, sizing him up, wondering if he had any idea what I was going through. His eyes darted toward me for a second, before we both quickly turned our attention back to the screen. Earlier in the movie, he'd pulled one of those trademark moves where he leaned back in his chair, reached his hands above his head and arched his back in a completely natural and irresistibly sexy stretch. He was like a god to me then, muscles flexing in the process, the lower hem of his shirt hiked inches above his waist for me to admire abs made perfect from countless hours of swimming. It made me want to reach over and dive my hand into his loose-fitting powder blue athletic shorts, but of course I resisted. It only made things worse that his left elbow came to rest against my right as he settled back into his seat. The contact triggered an instant erection that thrust awkwardly against my khaki pants for the next half hour. Did he notice? I wondered. The thing was so fucking obvious there in my lap, if he had spotted it, there's no way he could have mistaken it for anything else. I was happy to see him, all right. As the movie unspooled on screen, all I could think about was the static charge between our arms as they touched. I felt like an empty battery drawing power from this square-inch patch between us, the energy throbbing through my boner below. It took at least 10 minutes for my wood to subside after he shifted position. Now, here he was casually exploring his toned chest with both hands. I would have given anything to replace those hands with my own, but he seemed oblivious to the anxiety this unconscious gesture was causing me. He laughed again, and I leaned over. "I'm gonna do it," I whispered in his ear. He drew away from me, giving me a strange look. I'd clearly interrupted his concentration (surely he couldn't be enjoying the movie that much), and all he could manage was a confused "Huh?" Without speaking, I mouthed the word "watch" and reached for my fly. Suddenly it all clicked, that adorable face of his registering a mixture of disbelief and surprise. I read it as encouragement, tugging my zipper down in one quick, silent stroke. His eyes grew wide, but never left my lap. A second later, my button was undone, and I was lifting my ass to slide the pants down my thighs. I nervously scanned the room in front of me, seeing only the backs of heads. The rustling noise hadn't aroused the slightest suspicion from the five or so people there. Glancing back down, I couldn't help but notice how nicely my package seemed to fill my jockeys, which seemed unusually bright in the semi-darkness. When I get nervous, my dick has a nasty habit of shrinking up to its smallest state, as if to embarrass me, but it was playing along now, partly flushed with excitement. I looked back at Ben before making the next move. He shook his head, a half-hearted reprimand, but it seemed clear that he wanted me to continue. So I did. I curled my thumbs under the waistband and slowly peeled my soft cotton briefs down and away from what my offering. Despite my excitement, my cock still looked curiously dormant, the foreskin coyly hiding all but the tantalizing outline of my head. Suddenly self-conscious, Ben managed to break his gaze. Though he refused to stare at me outright, he would sneak frequent glimpses between the screen and my crotch as my dick started to stir. My own eyes moved back and forth between my offering and Ben's face, doing my best to read his reaction. I could feel the blood rushing south, engorging my cock in unpredictable jerks, each burst my hot cockhead, nosing its way free from my loose foreskin as the thickening crane arched away from my balls and up towards my face. When I'm hard, my dick reaches a sturdy seven inches and looks me dead in the face (when I shoot, each volley blasts with such force, that I have to turn away if I don't want to splatter my own eyes). I was hard in no time. Ben's mouth had fallen open again. I wanted to pull it down onto my cock, feel his slippery lips engulf me, but instead I reached downwards, wrapping my cool right hand around the blazing-hot firmness of my shaft. I tipped it forward so it pointed straight up and moved my hand up and down in a slow jacking motion, admiring as the head emerged from its hood. Ben tried to whisper something, but I couldn't make it out. "What?" I asked, repeating the gesture. "Put it away!" He repeated, but I shook my head No. Instead, I ran my hands all the way down the shaft, rolling the foreskin back slowly as I went. Reaching the base, I gripped the entire tool firmly for him to see. The head looked big as it ever had, a polished helmet shining in the dark. A shiver ran through me, and a dewy bead of precum appeared at the tip. Deciding to involve my left had in the act, I tapped the tip with a single index finger, drawing a clear honey strand of the fluid away from the sensitive pisshole. I was getting into this now, showing off for this guy whom I craved so badly. He reached over, cupping both hands as if to cover me, but I intercepted them, guiding a trembling mitt down to my prize. He put up no resistance, wrapping his nervous fingers around my cock in dutiful compliance, taking a measure of its girth. I flexed my cock and watched him smile as his hands registered the effect. He squeezed me back, then slid his two-handed grip upwards, rolling the silky sleeve of my foreskin forward as he moved. "You're ... uncut," he said, letting a long, approving pause fall between the words. "God, I wish I was uncut." Watching him stroke me, I imagined him discovering his own lost foreskin. He manipulated my tool as if it were his own, studying the way the extra fold enveloped my eager head on the upstroke, then disappeared into the shaft on the downward motion. And then that annoying guy laughed again, a loud horsey bray in the dark, and the reverie broke. Ben broke contact, letting his hands hover just millimeters from the surface of my skin for a moment before pulling away entirely. "You're gonna get us thrown out," he whispered, but I did nothing to cover up. Grabbing my dick, I milked it slowly, guiding my foreskin back and forth with each measured stroke. Ben tried to look at the screen, but kept glancing back, not wanting to miss the show. Rolling the foreskin up, I pinched the lip of my cocksleeve between thumb and forefinger and pulled it forward, the thick sausage bulging from its tight casing. "Unngh, nice," he moaned involuntarily, a little too loud for the room. No one noticed, and I continued my performance, letting my eyes fall to Ben's own crotch. He was enjoying this -- the evidence stood prominently outlined in his nylon shorts. Ben had often bragged to me about his size. It came up in all of his stories, the way his conquests worshipped his nine-inch tool. There it was, a piece of lead pipe jutting in perfect relief against his shorts, clear enough that I could easily confirm his circumcised status. I had never felt this bold in my entire life, and yet I couldn't bring myself to reach over and take him in my hands. It would have been so easy. His boner was practically an open invitation, the shorts loose enough that my hand could have started at his knee and found its way straight to that impressive baton. I just couldn't cross that line -- I'd put everything out there, and he had to make the next move. The rest of the movie was a blur, me sitting there ravenously horny, intermittently fondling my cock to keep it hard, him pretending not to notice, but snickering lightly every now and then to let me know that he approved. To this day, I couldn't tell you how that movie ended -- which of the guys had gotten laid or how -- because I was too preoccupied trying to read every twitch and sigh from the gorgeous guy to my right. I do remember this: The lights came up fast when the movie ended. In the 45 minutes or so I'd sat there with my cock out, I'd somehow convinced myself that this was perfectly normal, but suddenly I FELT naked. If it hadn't been for a bunch of outtakes running over the end credits, the other patrons would have discovered me for sure as I awkwardly tried to pull my pants up over my underwear. I squirmed in my seat, trying to work my jockeys back into place, and Ben started laughing harder than he had at any point in the movie. Those four high schoolers joined in, Ben's laughter igniting one last round of guffaws over the credits, and we all stood up to leave, me picking my underwear out of my ass crack. "That was hot," Ben said, elbowing me as we shuffled to the door. Two steps behind us, the kids laughed and repeated him. "That was DAMN hot," they said, totally oblivious to the true meaning of Ben's compliment -- or the lingering erection steering my way up the aisle. We stepped into the sunlit lobby, and Ben veered left toward the men's room. The small crowd pushed past us, but I followed Ben instead. "I gotta take a leak," one kid told his buddies and shuffled off behind us. Once inside, Ben was first to approach the trio of urinals and chose the one on the right. They were big bowl-shaped numbers that stuck out from the wall, crowded close together without any form of divider between them. Not wanting to crowd Ben, I sidled up to the one on the left, and the kid stepped up between us, unzipped and starting pissing right away. He looked at the ceiling as he drained; Ben and I both looked down. I hadn't even unzipped, afraid the kid would flip out if he saw my still-hard cock. I couldn't see Ben without turning my head, but I knew that his eyes, like mine, were fixed on this kid's cock. It wasn't just thick, but hefty looking, like a dense, dark salami, bigger and browner than I would have expected for a punk as pale as this. I envied how casually he handled it, as if its size were nothing, and wondered whether it got much bigger when hard. The kid's stream trailed off as abruptly as it had started, and he gave the whole thing a rough squeeze before stuffing it back in his pants. Without acknowledging us in the slightest, he dusted his hands on his jeans and brushed his way out the bathroom door. Ben and I looked at each other, impressed. "THAT was hot," he said, beating me to it, and I laughed, undoing my zipper. My dick tumbled out, half-hard and level with the ground. I side-stepped toward Ben, straddling the urinal beside him and looked down. Ben's cock had reached a state of semi-arousal, pointing forward in the same fashion as mine. He was definitely longer, I noticed, but thinner as well, emphasizing that succulent maroon knob at the end. "I, I can't piss," he said. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I didn't. I just reached over and took hold of his dick, grabbing it down near the balls and sliding my hand forward to that big plum-like head. "Don't you ever think about getting caught?" he asked as I started to throttle his cock. It had grown almost instantly in my grip, hooking left as he hardened. The slight curve only made it easier for me to handle, encouraging my vigorous stroking. He moaned softly, the noise accompanied by a slick spill of precum from his engorged piss slit. I caught the fluid with my fingers and spread it generously over his shaft. The skin was tight, I noticed, entirely different from mine, with almost no give. It seemed to pull fiercely away from his head, as if they'd removed too much skin when clipping him as a kid. The steady discharge of precum compensated nicely, providing ample lube to keep him slippery. I wanted this moment to last forever, but it didn't take long before he was sputtering, "Uggh ... I'm ... gonna ..." Ben was blasting before he could even reach the word "cum." The urinals weren't the type to catch anything that shot up or out, and the sheer force was enough to make him Jackson Pollock to the wall's dark canvas. His knees sagged and his cock thrust forward as he came, blast after blast exploding against the wall. By the time the bursts calmed enough to fall directly into the bowl, Ben was starting to squirm in my grasp. Though he'd required more stimulation than my own uncut cock usually did, his nine-inch marvel seemed to have become hyper-sensitive in the wake of his powerful orgasm. I reluctantly let go, transferring my slippery hand to my own swollen erection. Between our extensive foreplay and the excitement of watching "big Ben" shoot under my guidance, I was already primed to erupt. I slicked the foreskin back in a well-lubed gesture, and my entire dick throbbed precariously in response. "No, no, let me do it," Ben insisted. Though spent, his impressive dick had lost almost none of its dimension. I followed it with my eyes as he turned to face me. "I'm close," I managed as he took me in both hands. With his left palm, he cupped my balls; the right massaged my thick shaft, guiding the foreskin back up with and sending me over the edge in the process. I didn't mean to hit him in the chin, but that's exactly what happened as I unleashed the thundering orgasm that had been building within me for the previous hour. The next three shots blew well over his head (I doubt even the janitor was able to find them later), and still Ben continued to work my foreskin until he'd coaxed the very last gleaming drop from my satisfied dick. He had at least an inch on me when hard, but soft, his modest little endowment looked almost demure. We stood there, eyeing one another's equipment as our erections finally subsided enough to let us piss, and I couldn't help but wonder what might happen the next time we got the theater to ourselves. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Like what you read? Tell me about it: doubleplusuncut@yahoo.com