Did You Cum?
My buddy Steve was a friend of mine going way back. He was my oldest friend. Despite our flaws we stuck with each other through good times and bad. Forging a path through dating and marriages and divorces.
The first time anything happened was a late Saturday night before either of us ever had a girlfriend. We had nothing to do and somehow decided to watch a porno.
After a bit we both had shy hard-ons but neither of us admitted it. Right away we each had blankets pulled up high with our hands stuffed discretely in our pants.
I didn't use my usual technique for fear of being heard or worse yet seen, but instead I pulled on my timid erection with only my fingertips and a loose wrists. Still, the blanket puffed up and down in a way that seemed too obvious.
In time I heard his breathing get deeper, then resolve. That was the only clue that he was doing the same thing I was. Suddenly he stood up, "Well, gotta get going." As he was heading for the door he turned his head back, "Did you cum too?"
"Um no." I didn't want to admit that I'd been jacking despite gradually becoming aware that his words were an admission. Then I didn't want to appear to be unable, "I just needed a few more minutes."
"Ok man. Just keep that video going. See you tomorrow." Like I needed advice on how to do what I'd been doing daily for years now.
As soon as he let himself out I threw the blanket off and started beating like mad. In no time several large dollops of cum coated the back of my hand. My chest was heaving from the quick physical work-out that I had needed so badly.
It was a year or two before we had any sort of repeat. We were both between girlfriends when that second event happened and we found ourselves watching a baseball game. When it ended Steve asked out of the blue, "Got any porn?"
I put my only tape in the VCR. It was named creatively, "Three Hours of Blowjob Compilations." With lots of commentary about the girls and a few about the cocks he finally did what we were both thinking, "I gotta rub one out, Dude." Saying that he just unzipped and started pulling on a rapidly growing organ.
I followed suit, occasionally stealing glances and catching him stealing glances too though I was disappointed not to get a great view. After about twenty minutes I heard him groan as he climaxed. Wiping himself with kleenex he asked without looking, "Did you cum?"
I had to explain, "This tape is getting a little stale for me. It's gonna take me some more time."
"OK, well I gotta get going." He was going to walk right past my chair as I anxiously debated whether it was better for me to cover up modestly or keep stroking loud and proud.
The blanket was out of reach and we'd just been beating off in a dimly lit room yet in full view of each other for almost half an hour. I kind of moved my hand to block the full show but also didn't want to appear ashamed by stopping.
The path out took him behind my recliner; he actually stopped there. Then crouching and looking over my shoulder he said, "You're packin' some heat there." The compliment boosted my ego but made me think about two other things: first, that he was actively looking at my hard dick, and second, that he was comparing our dicks and probably mine was bigger. I formed this image of our two cocks lined up side by side with mine being so clearly longer. I would have said something dumb like, "When you're packing you're packing." It would have been a boast but not a direct insult. But I stayed coyly quiet.
In the actual moment, I felt self-conscious even as I kept stroking. After a few long minutes of being watched he stood, patted me on the head with the same hand that had just been pleasuring his dick, and left with this comment, "You got this, man!"
I knew I had it! I would have zero problems cumming except for maybe being watched and possibly judged. But when he was gone the loud fapping filled the room until I bubbled over, wetting my stomach in runny jackjuice.
It's not like he was always like this. Just these two times - so far.
When he got married we both woke up after a drunken night's bachelor party. Everyone else had gone. The porn was still playing in an endless loop on the CD player. Returning to the land of the living slowly, we opened dreary bloodshot eyes to the sight of some wild shit in that movie.
The next thing you know we were both beating furiously and unabashed. The hangover seemed to prolong things and the lingering alcohol lowered inhibitions. I wasn't as bold as him and avoided looking directly at his penis. But if it were truly smaller than mine I wanted that affirmation.
I can't say I was a hundred percent surprised when he reached over to take over wanking my cock. I had inklings that this was possible. Furthermore, it just seemed right that the guy with the smaller unit would please the man with the larger one.
At his subtle urging I reached over to stroke his too. Turnabout and all. I was surprised to learn that his, while about the same length as mine, was significantly thicker. In that one measurement, it turned out, he was the one with the more manly package.
It was his right hand on me and my left hand on him so eventually he suggested I move to get a better right-handed grip. I had to turn one-eighty.
I had a good grip on his cock and loved making him throw back his head with his eyes closed. Meanwhile, I pulled on my own with my other hand, getting closer and closer.
With some erratic hip gyrations he announced his orgasm with a simple, "I'm cumming."
Spectacularly, spoo shot up a few inches, landing on his stomach and my hand. Steve grabbed a tissue then hastily and haphazardly cleaning up exclaimed, "Shit! I'm late for picking out china."
Half way out the door he called back, "Did you cum buddy?" If I'd had more time before he jumped up I would have.
"You kinda finished quickly there. Didn't give me a chance."
"No worries. You just take care of it and remember how I'm gonna be stuck lookin' at boring old china while you get to look at those sluts on the screen." Except I didn't get my turn to receive a handy.
I did remember him while he was gone. The cum on my hand which got rubbed into my cock was a constant erotic reminder. The memory of handling his cock and watching it spurt also inspired me to do the same. I massaged his slick cum into the sensitive skin on my pole until it turned sticky. Then I announced my orgasm to the empty room in a series of primitive grunts. My own load now coated my dick which I now leisurely and admittedly weirdly spread over my rod and even down to my balls, all the while perversely pretending it was his.
