The Tuesday Club

Chapter 6: The Adventures of Urlen

On my way to lunch in the canteen early in my second year at University I noticed that the door which had been closed for so long was ajar. The room belonged to my best mate at school and he had missed half of his first year after he fell, climbing a rock face. The fall broke his pelvis. The door panel displayed his name - "Quentin Quayle". No wonder he was always known as "Q".

I put my head round the door. He was wearing a dressing-gown and looked startled, but smiled when he saw it was me. "Hi, Q" I said, "Glad to see that you're back."

He didn't invite me in, which seemed a bit odd, so I said "How are you?"

"Just getting going again" he said, and laughed. "Come in, then, and you'll see what I mean."

I opened the door and went in, following Q's half-apologetic gaze. His bed was behind the door and in it was a young man. All I could see of him was his head and his wavy black hair. He had blue eyes and a narrow, sensitive face. On the back of the door, which Q now closed, there was a white lab coat and I remembered having seen him somewhere before. "Meet Richard" said Q. "He works in the Chemi lab." Of course – that's how I had seen him around. He worked as the Chemistry Lab Assistant who helped the lecturers with the apparatus required for their work.

Richard didn't say anything, but just gave me the faintest of nods. "Richard has a very special talent," said Q. "If you stay long enough you may get to see what I mean."

I couldn't guess exactly what Q was talking about but I got the general gist. Q had always been unconventional, sleeping with both boys and girls, and we ourselves had had some fun on a camping holiday we had spent together in our gap year before we started at University. We had shared a tent, and during the night we had shared a sleeping bag too and had wanked each other to exhaustion. I thought of Q and myself as "Bi" and had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Now that he was back in circulation I was not at all surprised at what he was getting up to.

Meanwhile Q was reassuring Richard, telling him that he knew me well and that I was a good friend of his. The way he said this implied a sexual intimacy and Richard immediately picked up on it. He relaxed visibly.

Q moved over to the bed and I noticed that he moved with some difficulty. Following my train of thought he said "Yes, I have to concentrate on less strenuous activities than rock-climbing now." Then he sat on the bed and folded the bedclothes down so that Richard's hairy black chest was exposed. He looked long and hard at Richard and then slowly made another fold in the bedclothes so that we could both see Richard's belly. He was slight and slim and the black hair from his chest narrowed into a black line which plunged invitingly towards his groin. Q placed his hand on the flat, white belly and rubbed it gently, suggestively. I wanted to see where the black line ended and I could feel my dick beginning to fill with blood and stiffen. I could see from where I was standing that Q, too, was getting excited because his dressing gown, as they say, needed adjusting.

His next move was to bury his face in Richard's chest hair and to move it slowly down to that slim, black-lined belly. Then, keeping his face on Richard, he fumbled with his left hand with the folded bedclothes and moved them down to expose Richard's thighs and groin. If I had expected to see anything remarkable at this stage I was doomed to disappointment. Richard's dick was stiff, yes – like mine and Q's – but it was nothing special. It was slim, average in length and surrounded by a nest of black pubic hair. His balls, too, were unremarkable – what you could see of them, that is, amidst all that hair. Q gently retracted the foreskin, which fell into place behind Richard's cock-rim. The glans was pale compared with mine and there was a drop of pre-cum oozing from the slit.

"Nice, isn't it?" said Q, looking up at me. I was trying to hide my erection by holding my dick through my trouser pocket, but Q, who had very few inhibitions, opened his dressing gown and gave us a full view of his own stiff prick. I knew it well! It was short but thick, hard and powerful. Also it was circumcised, which was perhaps unusual at that time. His glans was dry but a deep cherry red and I had to admit it was a much better-looking outfit than Richard's. So what could be Richard's special talent, I wondered?

I looked at him lying there, naked on the bed. He was looking at Q's dick and looking up at me to see whether I was excited too. I was – but I wasn't going to undress – well, not just yet. I wanted to see how events would unfold.

Q didn't keep me waiting. While I remained standing, he took Richard's left hand and positioned it on his own fat dick. Then with his right hand he started to stroke Richard's, using the foreskin to cover and uncover that pale glans. Gradually it assumed a pinker, rosier colour and gradually Richard sank back into his pillow, breathing deeply. He continued to grip Q's dick but without any movement. "Watch" said Q when he felt the tightening in Richard's groin. Very slightly he speeded up his stroking and as he did so Richard removed his hand from Q's dick and placed two fingers at the base of his own shaft. At the same time he started bucking his hips in rhythm with Q's stroking and suddenly there burst from his tip a stream of spunk which flew over his chest and landed on his forehead. Q kept stroking and another stream landed on his nose. A third and a fourth followed, each landing on his chest hair. It was an astonishing exhibition of ejaculatory power and I no longer wondered what his "special talent" was. I knew; but I also wondered whether such power confers feelings better and more intense than the kind that Q and I have when we orgasm with less spectacular effect. If our spunk lands on our bellies, is the orgasm necessarily any less intense?

Q now stood up, facing Richard, who sat up in the bed, and took Q's dick in his mouth. To steady himself Q leant against the bed-head and I had to move to admire the action. It didn't take long. Richard's tongue and lips were caressing his knob with a silky, twisting motion and at the moment he felt his orgasm approaching, Q stood up, took his dick into his own hand and stroked it fiercely. Although he was circumcised there was a flap of skin which partly covered the glans on the upstroke, but he was holding it on the down stroke when spunk first appeared. I saw it, white and creamy at the tip, as if stacked up in his shaft waiting to explode with the next pulse. Then he gave himself another upstroke, followed by a downstroke, which he held momentarily, and a gob of spunk described a perfect arc in the air and fell on Richard's face. I think Richard had been expecting this because he didn't complain – merely wiped it off with a bit of sheet. Three more arcs appeared from Q's dick, falling harmlessly on the bed and then he staggered and almost fell with the effort and intensity of it all. I had been watching his face and as he shot his load his expression contracted into a near rictus of pain. Strange how facial expressions of intense pleasure can be so similar to those of pain!

"Pretty good eh?" he said, when he had recovered and was sitting alongside Richard on the bed. "Now, how about you, Urlen?"

I was feeling excited and badly needed to cum. I hadn't masturbated for about a week and pre-cum was oozing into my pants and I could feel a damp patch forming in my trousers. "I'll sit down to do it" I said and drew up a chair close to the bed. I dropped my trousers and pants and started to wank myself. It felt good. Both of them stared at my dick and my hand flew faster and faster. Within two minutes I was groaning and then "Aaaah - here it cums" and I added my sperm to all that had already been spilt in that room that lunch hour. I would be late for lunch but too bad – there had been compensations.

As we cleaned ourselves up Q said that he always met Richard at 12.15 pm during term-time on Tuesdays and would I like to join the Club? I said if it was just the three of us, then I'd be delighted, and so it turned out.

Richard never said much but his orgasms really were rather special. But, you know, somehow I always preferred the feel of my own!