A gay story: A Long Night in the Tent “Go ahead son, get nekkid,” I repeated his phrase that had thrilled me two nights before, emulating his deep voice. “Don’t be modest on my account.”
Russ chuckled at my impersonation, and proceeded to comply. He bent and pulled his underwear down to his ankles, straightened and stepped out of them. Then he balanced alternately on each foot, pulling off his socks. I kept undressing while keeping a close eye on the way his thick penis and full scrotum swung back and forth as he did this. When he was done, he stood there and watched me as I finished undressing. This of course aroused me, and my penis started to fill and lift its head up, hovering slightly in front of my balls by the time I had put my clothes down and stood back up, facing Russ. I snuck a peek below his paunch and saw his penis was thick and full, but not yet erect — another larger sock full of sand. We both turned and bent to get into the bag simultaneously, blocking each other, doing a little dance as each of us moved out of the way again, like people trying to get out of each others’ way in a hallway. Finally, Russ stepped back and motioned with both hands like an usher for me to get in first.
Russ was fully erect now, and trying to hunch over to hide it. He knelt and slid himself in beside me. This time I had stayed facing the center of the bag, and got a good view of his erection up close, bouncing slightly as he slid his hips in past my face and into the bag. I wasn’t shy about staring at his whole body as it passed by, and his face was bright red when he got all the way in. I grinned and waited for him to make eye contact, which he avoided for a few seconds, pretending to adjust himself in the bag. Then finally we were facing each other, up on our elbows, our bodies maybe a foot or two apart. I imagined our two hard penises pointing straight at each other, and wondered if their tips were very close to touching.
“Well,” I said, “how do you propose we go about getting to sleep tonight, knowing we both have the same problem right now?”
Russ was still bright red, and breathing a little heavily, whether with arousal or the effort of sliding into the bag I couldn’t tell. He licked his lips, hesitating.
“Well, if you’re all right with it,” he finally said, “why don’t you lie back…”
I could tell he had meant to say more, but couldn’t bring himself to it. I turned onto my back and raised my arms up, lacing my fingers behind my head. I saw Russ hesitating again, then he reached over with his right hand and slid it between the sleeping bag and my chest, brushing over the hair, up and down first over my right chest, continuing to my left, brushing each nipple as it passed.
“You know,” he said, pausing. “We’ve kind of been making a mess of the sleeping bag this trip. What do you think about doing this uncovered? We could unzip the bag and leave it open till we’re finished.”
“Sure,” I agreed. I wasn’t going to pass up a chance to see more of his nakedness.
This involved more turning and sliding around and all the incidental contact that involved. The sleeping bags had to be unzipped most of the way around to free us. I ended up kneeling when the job was done, with Russ standing. His erect penis was standing straight up too, as was mine. We were both breathing a little heavily.
“Do you mind if we put this back on?” Russ asked, reaching up to the lamp at the peak of the tent. “If its not too weird, I kind of want to see what’s going on this time.”
“Sure,” I nodded, thrilled at the thought of being able see more as well.
He turned it on, and I lay back down on my back, now as free and exposed as we had been on the grassy island. I laced my hands behind my head on the pillow. Russ lowered himself to lay facing me on his side, up on one elbow with a pillow stuffed under his armpit for support. With his free hand he resumed his exploration of my chest and belly fur, his eyes wandering down to my feet and back, pausing at my full-blown erection.
I took a big breath in and out, trying to slow my rushing heart, thinking about what was happening here. The last two nights had happened so quickly it had hardly seemed sexual. Tonight was different. Russ was naked and aroused, and the way he was brushing my chest and nipples was more patient, like he was focused more on my thorough enjoyment this time, not just helping me get to sleep. He didn’t want to rush through this. He brushed down and around my stomach a few times, then spent some more time with my nipples. Finally he moved down past my stomach, and brushed his fingers around the highly ticklish triangles to the right and left of my groin.
I flinched each time he reached that area, and he grinned. “Are you ticklish?”
“Sure am,” I admitted, and flinched again in answer as he swirled his fingers around either side of my groin. I gasped and giggled, “You’re gonna make me cum,” I squeaked.
He half sat up then, bending one leg under himself and freeing up both his arms. “I kind of thought that was the point,” he smiled down at me, letting my body back down from climax for a few moments. Then he began to explore my body for other ticklish spots. He went for the obvious first — my armpits — digging his fingers in and wiggling them downward to the fleshy sides of my chest. I burst out laughing, automatically freeing my arms from behind my head and wrapping up his hands under them.
“Shh-shh-shhhh…” he warned me, “Walt and John are going to hear you.”
He wiggled his fingers into my skin again where his hands were trapped under my arms. I huffed out quieter giggles, starting to squirm and keeping his hands trapped. He stopped until I settled and lay still, breathing heavy. Then he gently slid his hands out from under my arms and moved them down to my wrists, gently guiding them back up to my head. I took his cue and laced my fingers behind my head again. I noted that my penis had softened a little with the distraction of tickling, dipping over slightly but still half erect. Just that thought got the blood flowing back into it, though, and I got to experience again the delicious feeling of a growing erection.
As it rose below, Russ placed his hands on the tips of my elbows, one on each side, and slowly drew them down the skin of the underside of my arms toward my armpits. I could feel the skin of his palms and fingertips. They were the heavily textured fingertips of someone who works with his hands, but not hard or heavily calloused. I had time to savor the gentle roughness, the perfect amount of manly texture, as he ran them slowly past my armpits down my flanks on either side. My whole body shivered and I felt a wave of goose bumps thrill across the entire surface of my skin. I closed my eyes and reveled in the ecstasy of his palms traveling all the way down the length of me until he had to turn and switch his hands to opposite sides, where he continued from the sides of my butt down the outside of my legs, until he cupped my feet. I opened my eyes again, worried he was going to tickle the soles of my feet, my ultimate weakness.
He may have sensed my fear, and looked up at me. “Are your feet ticklish?” he asked, a mischievous tone to his voice.
“Very.”
He unwrapped his hands and gently placed the pads of his fingers under there, gently stroking them up and down from heel to toes and back again. It didn’t tickle as there was no pressure, but the skin almost burned with the subtle friction, and I felt the burn all the way up in my loins. It reminded me of when John was polishing my penis’ head when he had me tied up, when I couldn’t tell if he was rubbing my penis or the soles of my feet. There must be some neural connection there, some hidden dermatome joining those two areas of sensitive skin in my mind. He continued to rub them like that, building up a heat with the growing friction. I tensed, and felt the fire growing in both places.
“You’re gonna to make me cum,” I gasped.
I had opened my mouth, and my breathing was deep and heavy as I tried not to cum immediately. He stopped again. My penis was tensed, hovering on the edge, and I felt the warmth start to flow, but I was able to hold it off, a small shot of pre-cum actually spurting weakly in a tiny arc onto the under-curve of my belly as I took deep calming breaths.
“Man, I’ve really got you right on the edge, haven’t I?” He repositioned himself again, laying back beside me up on one elbow, his head right at the level of my waist, watching my hovering erection dance to the beat of my heart as I hovered on the long edge of an orgasm. I could actually feel each pulse like a tap inside the head of my penis — tap, tap, a tiny finger at the tip of my phallus, tap, tap, tap.
When he sensed it was safe, he reached his hand over and stroked his fingers lightly all around my scrotum. The skin tingled, and I knew I was just about beyond my limit. He moved his fingers down below my ball sack to my perineum, and let them travel lightly around, up over my scrotum and around it, swirling around to stimulate the whole surface of that delicate pouch of loosely wrinkled skin. I could feel the sack pulling itself together, making the wrinkles smaller and more compact, pulling my testicles in close. He laid his whole hand over my family jewels, warming the skin again but not moving for maybe ten or fifteen seconds. The meaty weight of his hand there was pulling the skin of me penis tight, and it was pointing straight up out of the J-curve made by his thumb and forefinger, lewdly pulsing with each heart beat, fully engorged and fully ready to shoot if he were only to touch it, brush it, breath on it…
He held it there for another fifteen seconds. I was breathing in slow, deep, steady breaths, entranced, almost hypnotized, floating in the zone he had expertly drawn me into. My toes were half curled. My eyes half lidded. My elbows drawn back wide almost touching the ground. My abdominal muscles half tensed. My buttocks drawn together. My hips on the edge of pulsing.
He slid his hand up and wrapped his hand around the entire length of my penis. His hand was large enough to engulf the full length and girth comfortably. He pushed his fist down to the base, pushing into my pubis, and the tip of my penis just barely poked out beyond his thumb. The pressure pulled the skin of my erection tight.
He held my penis gently and loosely, and ran his hand up the length once, and back down once, holding the skin there tight again. And again.
He kept going, closing his fingers fractionally with each pump, adding the tiniest bit of friction each time. I reached my climax as he reached the base the fifth time. He sensed what was happening and stayed there, pulling the skin tight again. He held it firmly but gently as I started to shoot squirt after squirt out of his hand and over my chest and belly.
I allowed my hips to thrust with my ejaculation this time, pushing hard into his fist with each spurt. He chuckled, holding it still for me, watching me hump his fist until my orgasm was spent. My semen ran over his fingers, it flowed down the underside of my stomach and pooled above my groin, I started to feel little rivulets slowly sliding down my left and right hips to soak into the sleeping bag.
Russ kept his hand still, loosely gripping my penis after my last little shudder finished and I let out a big sigh. I brought my hands back down and interlaced my fingers across my lower chest, at the upper ledge of my belly. My penis was slowly softening in his hand, which was a strange feeling, one of trust and willing submission. He gently massaged the softening flesh between his fingers, and my whole body flinched as his fingers rubbed the glans. He stopped, and moved his hand down to my testicles, which rolled easily around in my loose scrotum as he massaged them for a few moments, my penis continuing to soften. I looked over at him and saw a gentle, proud, fatherly smile.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Any time,” he replied, and he said it matter-of-factly, without any sense of innuendo or expectation that there would be another time. Gently he rearranged my genitals, laying my penis down again over my scrotum, then wiped his fingers off on my stomach.
Rolling onto his back, he said “I’m not expecting you to do anything for me, by the way, that’s not why I wanted to sleep naked.”
“I know,” I said, rolling over to face him, and raising myself up on one elbow, “thanks.” I raised my left hand up to his chest anyway, which made him flinch. I looked down and saw his penis at full mast, confirming he was in no state to go to sleep yet.
“I can take care of that myself, if I need to,” he said. “I’ll be able to sleep fine.”
“I know,” I repeated, but kept my hand on his chest, brushing the hair there softly. He brought his hands up to interlace over his belly, creating a subtle barrier between his chest and his more private areas. I brushed back and forth to either side of his chest, then tried brushing one of his nipples again, which made him flinch and half raise his hands to stop me, but he put them back on the peak of his stomach and took a deep breath in and out to calm himself. I kept brushing mostly his chest fur, which was deep and soft and as sexy as I could have imagined. I used my fingers like a comb through the white carpet of his chest. I spread, then closed the fingers deep in the forest of fur. I lifted the hand off his chest slowly, pulling the hair up gently to stand on end, then curled my fingers and rolled them randomly around on his chest.
Russ licked his lips and kept them open — his breathing was getting heavier, the rise and fall of his chest and stomach more pronounced. He was staring straight up at the ceiling of the tent with a far away look.
I reached down to his closer wrist and gently lifted it, saying “Why don’t you get yourself comfortable, like I did,” raising the wrist toward his head. He readjusted himself, raising his hands up, leaving them draped on the floor above his head, closing his eyes. I took advantage of the broad expanse of his newly exposed stomach and drifted down and around it with my hand, then back up to his chest. Going down again I let my hand drift from the underside of his stomach to his near hip, then traced my fingers all the way up his flank to his armpit. He flinched as I brushed around the ticklish skin there, but forced his arms to stay where they were, leaving himself exposed.
I ran the hand back down below his belly, and started circling my fingers around on either side of his groin as he had done to me. His breath was getting faster as I was getting closer to his genitals.
“I may not last much longer,” he said, his voice husky, his eyes still closed.
But he did last a while longer, breathing deeply, his hips thrusting occasionally. He didn’t even cum when I started playing with his scrotum and brushing my fingers up and down the underside of his penis, from the scrotum up to the glans and back. He finally came when I wrapped my whole hand around his penis, spreading some pre-cum around his head and pumping my fist up and down. This made him gasp and thrust his hips forward, up into my fist. I pumped one more time, sliding my fingers down to grasp the base of his erection and pulling the skin taught. He grunted loudly with each thrust of his hips as he ejaculated. I felt the fluid flowing through where my index finger lay against the urethra, each spurt a little slower until he slumped back down to the ground, spent and sighing in satisfaction.
Several lines of semen lay over the fur that covered the curve of his belly. The longest, from his second spurt, reached right up over the peak ending in the thick fur at the valley where his chest and belly met. The thick ropes of it were beaded up there, not soaking through to the skin. At the lower curve of his stomach, it flowed down to collect on the skin to either side of his pubic hair. I dipped a few fingers in and rubbed it around that smooth, soft area of skin that rarely saw the light of day. He sighed and moaned a little, lifting his head to see what I was doing.
I wrapped my hand back around his erect penis and held it the way he had held mine. He lay his head back on his pillow and gave another big sigh. His penis softened a little, then slowly deflated, shortening until it fit back neatly in my hand. I moved his flaccid penis around in my fingers, then lowered it onto his scrotum and rolled his testicles around under it. I rolled the soft head between my fingers and Russ gasped, then chuckled, speaking for the first time. “It really is pretty sensitive right after an orgasm, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I didn’t even know that before…” I caught myself — I had been about to say before John had made me squirm a few months ago.
“You mean before tonight?”
“No, I mean a few months ago, I accidentally found out one time.”
Thankfully he let it pass without pressing further. “Yeah, it’s kind of a cool feeling. For a bit at least, not for too long.”
I was surprised to hear him talking so naturally and comfortably, while I still had my hand on his genitals. I searched for the head again, and rubbed it between my fingers, making Russ giggle again.
“Ooh man, see what I mean?” He reached down like he was going to grab me, but stopped, leaving my hand free. Sensing his implied consent, I rubbed it a little more, and he started squirming, laying his hand on my arm but not stopping me.
“Ooh, man, I’ve never had someone do that, oof!” he grunted. I stopped, and he dropped his hand back down.
“I mean,” he continued, “you can keep going, but… hoof!” he grunted as I started up again. I sat halfway up, and moved my right hand to where his semen had pooled under the curve of his belly. I dipped my fingers and thumb in and spread more semen over his glans, moving my left hand down to hold his penis up for better access. The head was more engorged now with all this attention, and the penis itself was getting a little thicker. I rubbed the head around between my fingers, feeling the nubby texture of the head of his glans, contrasted to the smooth slick skin of the shaft. I slid them around in earnest, adding some pressure, generating some real friction and setting Russ to squirming helplessly, his hand back on my arm but not stopping me. He was giggling louder now, and his penis was almost hard again.
“It feels like you’re getting ready for more,” I said, but he couldn’t answer, he was laughing, giggling, squirming, his eyes closed and tears leaking down the sides of his face.
“Oh man, oh man,” he was gasping, between bursts of giggling. And then he was arching his back again.
He cried out loudly then, arching his back, his butt in the air: “Oh my…. Holy…. Aarrggh!” the last was almost a roar, and I felt several more squirts of semen spurting out between my fingers as he thrust his hips in time. His body thumped back down again, his stomach jiggling with the sudden flop back to the floor. I had stopped rubbing his overly sensitive glans during this second orgasm. I squeezed one more time now, bringing on the loudest yelp yet, his hand shooting up to grab my wrist.
“Enough, I yield!” he gasped, laughing again. “Phew!” He lay their, holding my wrist in his left hand. I let go of his penis with my other hand, and he let go of my wrist, letting me reach up to wipe my hands on his belly fur.
“That has never happened to me before,” he gasped. “I didn’t know I could cum twice in a row like that. Phew!” He lay staring at the ceiling for a while, recovering his breath, rubbing his hands from his chest down to his legs, stretching, his toes splayed out. I watched his penis slowly wilt back to its thick flaccid state as his breathing slowed and he took some deep, sighing breaths.
“Well, if I can’t sleep after that, I don’t know that I ever will.” He chuckled, and looked over at me with a contented smile.
But we didn’t go right to sleep. We chatted about various things while Russ stared up at the ceiling with his hands laced behind his head and I lay next to him, my right arm curled under my head, my left hand resting on his stomach, brushing back and forth in the thick fur where the stomach and chest met. Below his stomach I could see the thick, gentle arch of his soft penis pointing straight down, laying comfortably over his full scrotum.
Eventually Russ turned over on his side to face me, up on one elbow. I let my eyes wander down his chest to his belly, following the thick treasure trail slowly downward. It was a new delight not to try to hide what I was staring at.
“So, what’s the deal between you and John?” he asked.
My eyes had made their way down to his genitals, his heavy balls laying on the protruding shelf of his left thigh, his penis laying soft and heavy on its side, its weighty head pointed straight down to the ground.
It took me a few seconds to process Russ’ question; I was staring so lazily at the hot display of his manhood. When his question hit me, I almost jumped in alarm at its implications.
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound innocent, curious rather than defensive. I’m pretty sure I didn’t fool him.
He grinned a knowing, fatherly smile. “I’ve seen the two of you the last few weeks – thick as thieves, as they say. And John always looking like he’s up to something. Almost furtive, if you could ever describe a big guy like John as furtive.”
I could feel myself getting red, and could feel my penis grow instantly hard at the mention of John and our… situation. My heart raced. I think I stammered something; I don’t even remember if it was an evasion, a counter question, or what. Russ plowed right on.
“And then on the trip up here – what was that? John, putting us all in the back seat together? I saw what he was doing to you in the middle between us. I caught him tickling you when he thought I wasn’t looking, rubbing your leg. I could have sworn he squeezed your nuts once, and you just sat there pretending nothing was happening.”
Russ looked at me, a penetrating stare. “Is he taking advantage of you? Does he have something over you?”
I could tell I looked like a deer in the headlights, a rabbit cornered by a hound. I’ve never been able to hide things or lie outright when confronted – I never used to get away with anything as a kid.
Russ softened his stare. “Listen Artie, I don’t want to pry, and I won’t push, I just want to make sure you’re not stuck in something you don’t want to be stuck in. You can tell me, and it won’t go beyond this tent. I won’t say anything to John either, if you don’t want me to.”
I lowered my eyes, only to find them settling on his genitals again. They lay just as they had been, his testicles settled in his loose scrotum, his penis laying thick but soft along the curve of his thigh. The contrast between that and my own raging hard on was somehow what allowed trust to blossom deep inside me. My racing heart started to settle as I considered opening up to this fatherly figure, reclining in all his manly nakedness, bare and open before me.
In only three days Russ had filled a spot in my heart I had not even realized was hollow. I loved my dad, and he loved me and was always there for me. But we had never had any serious discussions about sex, beyond watching a Sex Education video when I turned thirteen. I was sure he had no clue about my feelings towards men. It was not his fault; I had never opened up to him – in fact I avoided the subject assiduously whenever I could. Looking back maybe I had been unfair, never giving him the opportunity to show love or acceptance of me as a whole, including this hidden part of me.
I never felt fully comfortable being unclothed around him, and I always got the sense he didn’t like me seeing him naked either. I had always imagined John as a secondary father figure – at least I had always hoped to develop that relationship with him – but in fact it was Russ who had begun to grow into that role, and only in the last few days. Now here he was, on display for me, and I for him. I actually started to tear up, thinking about how he had stood up for me this whole trip, had brought me my underwear out in the lake, had humbled himself and apologized for his part. And now he was now putting himself into an awkward conversation to make sure I was safe, cared for – yes… loved.
I quickly sat up and drew my legs in front of me, wiping tears from my eyes brusquely. And before I could second guess myself I blurted it out: “He found me tied up naked on my bed.”
I wasn’t sure why I was tearing up; I had never felt forced into this situation by John. It had been fun, exciting, erotic. But having Russ draw the confession out of me, I realized now that I did feel trapped. What had started as a mutually erotic game had turned into me feeling like I somehow owed John something. To be fair, John probably didn’t think about it that way consciously. But the way he played with me never-the-less reinforced that narrative.
Russ sat up too now, and arranged himself cross-legged, Indian style in front of me. Incongruously, I found myself marveling at how flexible he was to be able to sit like that. He leaned his elbows on his knees, pressing them lightly downward and spreading his legs even wider. The conversation we had been having evaporated from my mind, in fact all conscious thought ceased in my head. My brain was short-circuited by the dream I must be having, seeing this paramount of sexual power and desire displayed before me in a pose I had never dared hope to see a naked man taking before me. And what a model to have sitting there across from me — every body part that turned me on displayed in perfect proportion. My mouth hung open and I must have looked a complete fool.
“Well, are you seriously going to drop a bomb like and not expound on it?”
I looked back up at him dumbly, and my mind slowly plodded its way back to what I had said. My eyes widened as I remembered — had I just told him about the day John found me playing with myself tied up in bed? My mouth opened but I didn’t say anything, I lowered my eyes to stare at my feet.
I was sitting as close to Indian style as I could, but not being as flexible as Russ I could just bring the soles of my feet together. It was hard enough for me to sit frog-legged like that, my knees splayed outward. I had to grasp my ankles to hold myself upright. My erect penis poked at an angle out into the gap between my stomach and my heels. Russ however looked completely relaxed — his ankles crossed, his forearms now resting gently along the insides of his knees. Again, I became transfixed by his genitals, framed by his powerful legs and his gorgeous keg of a furry belly. His scrotum hung heavily, just keeping his testicles from brushing the ground. I could see the crevice between his buttocks disappearing into shadow below them. His thick penis relaxed over the edge; the tip settled downward right in the valley between his two ample balls.
He chuckled gently, jiggling his belly, setting his genitals swaying softly. I finally looked up again and made eye contact – it was like coming out of a trance again. He was gazing at me patiently, a half grin brightening his countenance, that soft gleam in his eyes wrapping me again in safe comfort.
“What were you saying?” I asked sheepishly.
“Nothing, I was just waiting for you to expound on that very intriguing scenario you just mentioned. About you tied up on a bed, naked?”
I grinned and blushed happily. I had always thought of that day with mixed arousal and fear of discovery, but the thought of sharing the experience with Russ was actually a surprising joy. With uncharacteristic openness I described my sexual enjoyment of auto-eroticism and imagined bondage, describing other times when I had tied myself up and fantasies of having someone else do the same for me. Then I went into the details of that night.
Early on in my story I stole a glance down to see that Russ remained completely flaccid. Far from disappointing me, this made the retelling of the story more cathartic, a sharing to bring us closer as men, as friends, further cementing in my heart his role as paternal mentor and protector.
Russ had remained mostly silent during my recital of the events, avoiding commentary or questions. As I finished the story, I was surprised to find that my own penis hung flaccid against my loose scrotum.
“So that’s when you first discovered how sensitive you get after having an orgasm?” he followed up. I nodded.
“Did you ever feel like he was taking advantage of you that night?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Not at all. He kept asking permission each step of the way. And when he was up on the bed with me, making me agree to his game… man, I was loving that. I was really divided, half wanting him to stop, half wanting him to ignore me and keep going against my will.”
“But when you agreed to this game, this set of challenges, he didn’t really give you a choice, did he?”
“Well, I did agree to it,” I wavered.
“Yeah, but only to make him stop tormenting you.”
“I guess, but I think he would have stopped if he didn’t know I was really enjoying it too.” I paused, realizing how conflicted I was. Had I really consented to this, or not? “Well, at the time I didn’t feel forced into it.”
“And how about now?” he countered.
I was silent for a long while. The silence thickened, and the sounds of our breathing became noticeable. Outside our tent crickets sang. Wind creaked the branches overhead. I stared down at my lap.
Finally, Russ spoke up again. “Well, I think we need to get you out of this contract, but it’s up to you. I won’t say a thing unless you want me to. I’ll pretend nothing happened if you want. But say the word, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of this.”
I stared down at the ground between us, slowly shaking my head. “I guess I just don’t know how to bring it up. I’m too embarrassed to talk about it with anyone else.”
I looked up at Russ, and he smiled. “I have the beginnings of an idea. How do you feel about triggering the escape clause?”
“You mean letting him tie me up and torture me for 10 minutes?”
He nodded.
“I’ll never last that long.”
He reached over and lay his hand on my knee. “I’ll help you through it, and if you can’t take it, well — like I said — I’ll do what it takes to get you out of it.”
I was surprised to find that I automatically believed he could. It was quite late after all our games and this long chat. The wind had died down again, and even the crickets seemed to have gone to bed. There was a silence in the tent that you could only get deep in the wild. We should have gone to bed, but I found there was one more thing I really wanted to share.
“Did I tell you what the first challenge was?”
Russ stretched his hands high over his head, interlacing his fingers and arching his back; he was probably ready for bed too. He shook his head no.
“It was letting you see me naked in the showers. Well, it was technically just to let a guy see my penis, and not hide it after being seen. The shower was just the easiest way to do it without seeming weird.”
“Hah! I had wondered about that.”
I told him the details of the first challenge, and the follow up with the second shower and the erection challenge.
Russ shook his head, smiling. “Well, I guess I have John to thank for one of the favorite showers I’ve ever had. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I saw another guy with an erection. I’ll admit I was caught off guard by it, and thought afterward that it almost seemed intentional…” he cleared his throat. “…and I’ll admit it kind of intrigued me.” He reached down and adjusted his balls, hiding it by scratching his tummy.
I blushed at the memory, surprised that he was admitting to enjoying it. “I’ll be honest too, then: I think that was the favorite shower I’ve ever had too. I was so glad you didn’t flip out, and I sure enjoyed what I saw too.”
It was his turn to blush now. He looked down. I followed his gaze, and was treated to the sight of his flaccid penis thickening and slowly raising its head to one side, then filling more and pointing outward and upward bit by bit. It hung there, almost fully erect but still with a slight curve, and I realized he was trying to keep it from growing, controlling his pelvic muscles with deep breathing, not allowing that final flex to trap the blood and fully engorge the head. I tentatively reached out my hand to hover just over his ankles, not quite into his personal space. I raised my eyes to see if he was looking. He was. Our eyes met; he nodded slightly.
I looked down again and he had managed to keep his penis in the same state, his breathing short and controlled. Leaning forward as far as I could I guided my hand down and forward, between his thighs, below his genitals, my palm up, fingers curled. Ever so gently I brushed the underside of his scrotum, causing his penis to jerk upwards. His knees flexed and he huffed out a heavy breath, his penis immediately straight and hard, the glans engorged. It stayed that way for a few seconds while his reaction to my touch lasted, then his knees relaxed and his penis lowered to pointing straight out again. He let out a big breath. A few drops of pre-cum flowed out to pearl up under his glans, then a drop slowly lowered to the sleeping bag beneath it, the thread connecting it breaking and leaving a little drop under one of the bulbs of his glans.
“And here you thought you were ready to sleep,” I laughed.
He smirked. “I told you what happened when I sleep naked. This is going to keep happening if I don’t get some underwear on soon.”
“Well, lets leave it off for just a little longer, there’s one more thing I’ve been wanting to try…”