Back In Town

I was in Dick’s Sporting Goods, looking

through the running shorts on the rack, trying to find

a pair in my size. The 32’s were mingled in with the 36s

and 38s, and rummaging through was tedious. But I

eventually found my size, with the color I wanted, and

was holding them up to look at them when I heard a

voice behind me call my name.

"Marty.. Marty Bates, is that you?"

I turned, and behind the rack of tank tops stood a guy

I knew in high school, Jake Plummer. He was one of the

second stringers on the soccer team with me, and he was

a jerk. As I watched him walk toward me to talk with

me, I remembered the one scene during our high school

days as seniors with him that I'll never forget.

I had forgotten something in my locker after practice

and was returning for it. I thought I'd be the only one

there, but I heard the shower running. I peeked around

the corner of the wall to see who it was, and it was

Jake. Obviously he stayed a little late to work on some

of his dribbling skills, and was taking a shower. I

didn't want to say hello because he was a dick and I

didn't like him very much.

Just as I was about to quietly turn away, I saw him

reach for his penis and start to play with it. His

torso was lathered up with soap, so I thought he was

just washing himself, but he began playing with his

limp penis in his fingers. I stood quietly behind the

wall, watching him play with himself, his penis growing

larger as the lather thicken with his fingering.  His

dick quickly hardened with the sudsy stroking, and he

began to masturbate in the shower.

The splatter of the water against the tiles echoed

through the shower, drowning out some of Jake's

moaning, but I could still hear him as I watched. He

slowly stroked himself, working his hand up and down

his hard shaft. I imagined he wanted to enjoy being

alone in the shower jerking off because his hand moved

at a slow steady pace. I don't know if he thought he

wouldn't get caught or didn't care if he got caught

masturbating the shower, but he was intent on enjoying

himself and his hard dick.

I watched him for about five minutes, his hand never

quickening, but never stopping either, as he jerked

off. I felt my own dick getting hard and straining

against my pants, but didn't do anything for fear of

letting him know I was watching. As he stroked, the

lather from the soap built up, and large dollops of

suds plopped loudly on the floor and washed away in the

water. He began to moan a little loader as his

masturbating went on.

Finally, his body began to convulse as he neared

orgasm. Still with his hand moving at a slow steady

stroke, his orgasm swept through him and his semen shot

from his dick, through the air and landing in the water

on the floor, only to be swept away in the water. I

continued to watch as he came, looking at the semen

spurt into the water, and his manipulations growing

less and less as his penis began to grow limp. Then as

quietly as I could, I left the locker room without

picking up whatever it was I came back for, but leaving

with a memory I would never forget.

"Well, Marty, it's been a few years, hasn't it?" Jake

asked, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

I took it, shaking it, and saying, "Since high school."

We talked for a bit, and he told me he left the city

for a job elsewhere, but was back on business. I told

him about myself, but he didn't seem that interested in

my life. As we were about to say our good-byes, he said

that we should get together for drinks tonight at the

hotel bar.  Without thinking it over, I quickly said

yes, and we decided to meet at eight.

I arrived about 15 minutes after, hoping he wouldn't be

there, but he was still waiting, nursing a drink in

front of him. He looked up as saw me as I walked toward

the table and sat down. We greeted each other, I

ordered a drink and we talked. Over the years he lost

his attitude and I was enjoying our conversation. It

mostly revolved around our high school days and the

girls we liked then. He did most of the talking about

he girls because I never had one when I was in high

school, but I listened, because I remember the girls he

talked about and how good-looking they were.

After a few drinks I was starting to feel light-headed,

and all of a sudden I found myself talking about the

time I saw him in the shower.

"You know I saw you jerking off in the shower after

practice one day," I said.

"Really, you should have said something or joined me,"

he said matter-of-factly. "Lot of us guys used to do it

all the time. I guess you just left too early."

"Guess so."

He smirked and took a sip of his drink.  "So you got me

jerking off."

We chuckled a little, then we went silent.

"Hey, you want to do it now?" he asked, poking at the

ice in his drink with his straw.

"Do what now?" Although I probably knew what he meant.

"Well, we can go up to my room and jerk off together,"

he explained.  "There's a liquor store down the street;

I can go pick up a bottle or two and we can jerk off in

my room. What'dya say?"

"I don't know, I never...."

"There's always a first time. That's all we'll do,

watch each other jerk off. Hey, here's my room key. Go

up to it, get undressed and I'll go get some booze. We

can get drunk and jerk off."

I stared down into my drink, swirling the liquid,

listening to the ice clink against the side of the

glass. Finally, I shrugged and said, "Sure, why not."

"Great, go up to the room and I'll be there in about 20

minutes." As he left the bar I watched him go, downed

the rest of my drink and left the bar myself, passing

through the lobby to the elevators, and going up the

third floor. His room was just three doors down from

the elevator, and I unlocked it and went in. The room

was still tidy, except one of the beds was wrinkled up

from where he sat. Then I got undressed and sat on the

bed and watched television until he returned.

It was about twenty minutes when I heard the knock on

the door and him saying it was him and to let him in. I

got up and opened the door, standing behind it to hide

my nudity from anyone who might be in the hall. He

stepped passed me into the room and I closed the door.

He looked at me and remarked that he was glad to see me

already naked, then put the bag down on the table and

took out two bottles of alcohol, one rum and one

whiskey. 

He excused himself then went to the bathroom to undress

and urinate while I opened the rum and took a swig. I

returned to the bed where I sat earlier and put the

bottle on the table next to the bed, spread my legs

slightly apart so I could start playing with myself

when Jake got out of the bathroom. In a few minutes I

heard the bathroom door open and Jake stepping out,

naked as I was.

"Sorry, but I don't have the exquisite lube, but here's

some baby oil," he said, throwing me a small bottle of

it, which was already half empty.

"I see you've already used most of it," I said,

smiling.

He picked up the bottle of whiskey, opened it and

drank, then sat on the other bed opposite me, opening

his legs too.  He still had a trim body but with the

weight a guy normally puts on as he grew older. But

neither of us had a large gut, and our dicks were about

the same size. His balls were a little larger and

saggier than mine and would probably bounce around more

while he stroked his erection.

"Well, what're you waiting for, lube up and start

stroking," he said, taking another swallow of whiskey.

I opened the oil and dripped some on my hand and began

working it into my limp penis, letting Jake watch me

play with my dick to get it hard. My dick began to grow

harder, standing erect between my legs. Then I

liberally dripped some more oil onto my hand and passed

him the bottle so he could lube up his dick. I worked

the oil into my dick, hearing the oil squish between my

hard dick and hand and fingers as I moved my hand up

and down the now hard shaft of my dick.

Jake did the same, oiling up his limp dick and playing

with it to get it hard enough to start stroking in

earnest. It didn't take long for him to get hard. In

its erect position, his dick was a little longer than

mine, but not much though, and just as round. I could

tell he really got into stroking his dick, because he

was already making "oh"-ing and "aw"-ing noised as he

worked his shaft and fingered its oily head. And I

watched him, his legs spread, his dick hard, his hand

gliding over the oily shaft. He watched me too, my hand

sliding up and down my own hard dick, thumbing the

head.

"I like to jerk off at least an hour, Marty," he said,

"so take it slow."

"Yeah," I replied, "I've done it for that long a couple

times too."

"It feels too good having my hard dick in my hand and

stroking it to come quickly. I really like to beat off

like this. And having you watch me while I watch you,

that's really hot," he said, playing with his erection.

"It's my first time doing this with another guy," I

admitted, "except for watching you in the shower way

back when."

"Watching another guy jerk off is great, isn't it? I

mean, look at this," he said, directing my gaze between

his open legs as his hand glided up and down his oily

shaft.

"Yup," I agreed, watching him, and spreading my legs

too, allowing him to enjoy seeing me with my dick in my

hand.

For about the next two hours we jerked off together,

watching each other, talking about how good

masturbation feels, remembering the girls in high

school that we wanted to fuck.  About three times

during that two hours we let our dicks go limp,

watching them shrink, then fingering them again and

getting them hard, occasionally adding more oil. 

Finally, I was beginning to feel the increasing tension

in my crotch that all this stroking was doing, and told

Jake that it was time shoot my load. I think he was

feeling the same thing, because he quickly agreed.

Sitting across from each other on the separate beds, we

spread our legs for each other, giving up all modesty.

Slowly we worked our hand in unison up and down our own

hard dicks, the oil making squishing sound.

"Jerk yourself," Jake urged, "show me how a guy gets

himself off."

"Work it," I returned, "feel the burn of your hard

dick."

Our hands moved faster, but it didn't take but two or

three more strokes before we both went off.

Simultaneously we came, shoot our loads on our own

bodies, the sperm squirting all the way up to our necks

and chests, spilling over our stomachs and running down

our oily hands. 

Although it was two men masturbating, the orgasm was as

if there were only one man stroking one dick which

spurted the white fluid over one torso. I could feel

him shutter as he came, and I'm sure he could feel my

quaking as well. It was a few minutes before we said

anything, both of us breathing heavily, still stroking

our oily dicks, watching each other still fingering

ourselves.

After that night Jake and I got together whenever he

came back into town, which was about once a month. He

was here during a three-day weekend once and all we did

those three days as walk around my apartment with

nothing on, always playing with our dicks, masturbating

whenever we wanted to. It all seemed so natural.