In a flash of pleasure the climax took hold, the first dribble of thick jism spilling from his crupper over the ground in front of his hairy knees. He was lost in the pleasure his frigger was delivering as the second eruption of hot milk burst forth with surprising power, splashing over the cards in front of him like a shower of wet bullets.
Almost all of his masturbation sessions had been in the shower, but now he knew it was by necessity rather than habit. He remembered numerous moments with friends when he’d fallen silent while they talked about their wanking habits, their use of boxer shorts or socks to collect or clean up the mess. He remembered thinking that seemed odd, and unnecessarily messy.
He knew the three had seen him enter, he could see a reflection of light on the spectacles of the older gentleman as he looked up to cautiously observe the large shadow of the arrival now watching their games from a discreet distance. The older man was around Joseph’s age, a bearded gentleman with wide shoulders under his cotton shirt. Mrs. Bank’s crouched between him and his younger friend, her hands wrapped around two generous nobs as she lapped them both, welcoming one between her lips for a moment before turning to the other prong and delivering the same
I’d been looking forward to all the guys, but as I gently sucked on his hard erection and tasted his juiced flooding over my tongue, with his rod twitching and his muffled groans reaching my ears, I remembered that while he was a great show off who loved sharing videos of himself jerking and blasting his hot cum, he’d never been sucked before. Not even his girlfriend had volunteered to slurp his dick for him.
An immediate cacophony of male voices called out from the gathering around the table, observers cheered while competitors raised their protests but continued to bring themselves to finish. Charles pumped his prong several times, his milky mess lassoing out across the cleared table as another competitor joined in with his own thick muck, the youngest attendee being the last to start erupting his own heavy gruel in a rapidly pumping explosion that led to more yells and shrieks from the gathered audience.
It was over, but Joseph’s prong was still evacuating the last of the mess he’d stored from the night before when he’d stubbornly insisted he wouldn’t stroke himself. Perhaps if he had indulged in that release he wouldn’t now be awkwardly reversing back to his room, his bare buttocks catching the breeze from the stairs leading down to the bakery, his cock still swollen and pumping the last of his load into the newly drenched wash cloth.
Joseph’s penis ached with the need for release. He’d somehow managed to fight the urge the previous night and slipped into sleep but now it was dripping wet as he groped the thick shape in his grip, his hat still positioned in front of him as he peered through the gap and watched the young men quietly talking, showing each other their pale lengths while they compared their appendages to each others, and to the men seen in the images.
The light adequately illuminated the landing between their rooms as Henry emerged to wash, his naked form highlighted in the flickering orange glow as he positioned the candle in its holder on the wall. Joseph quietly watched from his seat on the bed, insisting that they rise at dawn. “Is there such an urgent rush?” Henry asked, the cold wash cloth gliding down his pale stomach to the plump flesh hanging between his thighs, his hand cupping his sack and lifting before scrubbing behind the floppy mass of masculine appendage.
Henry chuckled softly, rubbing his dripping length slowly in his sticky hand as he watched Joseph’s prong purging a heavy load of masculine milk over the floor beneath him, his bearded face angled up for a moment to catch the last pumps of Henry’s juices leaving his dick while his own continued to expel what seemed to Henry to be a months-worth of lather
Joseph was silent, watching expressionless beside him as Henry’s foreskin slipped over the swollen round shape of his tip, his pale flesh bunching up into a spout before slowly easing back again to reveal the red bulbous head, seemingly juicy like the inside of a firm ripe fruit. Nectar seeped from between the little raised lips, a bead of clear liquid sitting atop his pecker wile his hand slowly moved up and down with lazy strokes.
