That was a ridiculous comment. What did she think we do to each other? I shook my head.
“No, no. I feel asleep in the sun. Ass skyward.” I felt awfully stupid.
“Sore?”
“A little.”
“I’m gonna bed me a Sore-Ass Clay tonight then.” She snickered.
As we lay next to each other, she wanted to hear all about everything. I was cagey about our hardware buying expedition and bondage plans, and told her up front I would divulge more about our store purchases later.
Her face was puzzled but she trusted me.
But she still wanted to hear about the rest of our activities, and I gave her a nice account of Roger’s pent-up sperm reserves and how I handled it all. She got excited hearing about our outdoors romp and Roger’s two climaxes.
“But only one for you?”
“Yep, I saved myself for you, love.”
Her eyes shone.
The sixty-nine intrigued her, which we hadn’t done ourselves in ages. However it only works for us with Barb on top, she doesn’t like my weight on her, but my ass was too tender to endure being on the bottom.
It was too bad, I could have had a shot at a double sixty-nine with two different partners (what’s that, a “one hundred and thirty-eight?”) in one day, but missed the chance.
We ended up mostly sucking and licking each other until I finished missionary style with me on top, lasting longer than usual but not quite enough for her to climax. So I licked her good, getting another mouthful of sperm, my own this time, in the process. My sperm quotient for the day had attained impressive dimensions.
I slept on my side that night and for a couple nights beyond, until my sunburn faded. Barb was highly amused.
The next weekend was cold and rainy, and Roger and I did our bondage equipment installation inside my garage. Getting the hardware in was easy enough, didn’t take us but an hour or so. Roger works careful and meticulous and we make a good team together in more than one way.
I desperately wanted to test things out but really didn’t want to risk having Barb barge in on us. I figured we might try the following Sunday.
****
Once I had everything arranged in the bus to my satisfaction the next afternoon, however, a dilemma appeared.
“Do you want a blindfold?” I asked. The thought had never occurred to me.
Roger blinked and looked at me. We had no idea, really, what we were doing.
“I dunno.” I could see him thinking. “Do you even have one? I’ll probably keep my eyes closed anyway, but without a covering I’ll have the choice of whether I can see anything or not.”
We were as green at this as a couple of early May apples.
“Guess not.”
“Probably just as well, since I don’t have one anyway,” I answered. But if he’d said “yes” I would have used a clean bandanna I kept in the front of the van to wrap around his face.
I sat back on my haunches in the van and looked at my work.
We’d driven out of town and up Douglas Road, one of our more favored dirt trails since we never saw anyone else use it. Parked just a bit off-road, and out of sight, behind a screening clump of evergreens. Slightly overcast sky, so it wasn’t going to get too hot in the van, even with the windows shut.
I’d tied Roger to the four rings with our soft cotton rope. It took a little experimentation to get things tight enough he couldn’t slip loose easily, but no so tight as pose any problems. We’d flipped a coin to see who went first and he lost. My treat.
So he was spread-eagled out on the floor of the van, the mattress underneath him. I uncovered the mirror alongside the side interior of the bus so the visuals were doubled. Looked good to me, those sturdy thighs, swatches of armpit hair with his arms out. And right dead center, that thicket of thick dark crotch hair and his bulleye’s cock smack in the middle. Soft. For the moment.
My own penis started to stiffen, prompted just by the sight of my buddy. I had thought I’d developed a plan of how I wanted to handle him, certainly had thought about it plenty, but of course I ended up changing my mind straight away.
Novices. Gotta love em.
So instead of teasing Roger erect, my original idea, I straddled his chest, plopped my still fairly soft cock into his mouth and let him tongue me.
I think one of my favorite things in the world, not the most favorite, maybe second, is that stage when my prick is just at the beginning of arousal, just starting to stiffen. All those lovely nerve-endings beginning to recognize that pleasure is imminent. Sensations firing away with at first a languid pleasure, then increasing their frequency and intensity until I am aching for release.
Roger dutifully licked the underside of my penis, stem to stern as it inflated, took just the cock-head into his mouth for a good suck, then licked my balls when I pulled my prick out and pushed testicles into his mouth.
Five minutes and I was hard. Looked good in the mirror, the two of us.
I stared at Roger’s cock. He was hard already, and I hadn’t even touched it yet. Between us in conversation, he often said how uneasy he was with doing “gay” stuff, but then here all it took was putting his tongue on my tool and his own cock responded in kind. The mind is a marvelous thing.
I checked my watch, the only item covering my skin on besides my wedding ring. Two o’clock. Could I keep Roger hard for an hour? That’s an awfully long time if one has an erection. And yet this would give me plenty of time to indulge all the different ways I had in mind to torture my bud, in a good way of course, for a good end.
So I sat back between his spread legs and gazed at the sight in front of me. And did nothing for a few minutes until Roger opened his eyes to look at me, like he was wondering what was I going to do next.
“Feel okay bud?”
“It’s strange. Part of it I don’t like, not being able to move. It’s unnatural. I’m at your mercy.” He pulled at the rope, testing their strength, then gave me a keen look.
“But it’s exciting too, in a way I didn’t imagine.”
“I got the rest of the prayer done, in case you’re interested.”
He gave me the strangest amused look.
“Oh, the prayer. Just when I think I got you figured out, you throw me a curveball, Clay. So you’ve been spending all your time perfecting your ‘Prick Prayer’ thing?”
I recited, from memory, pleased with my silly poetic creation:
Our Phallus, who art from Roger
Orgasm be thy name
Thy semen will come
Thy balls be done
From loins to mouth, my heaven.
Give me this day my daily sperm
And forgive my worship
Of thy heavenly balls,
Which lead me to temptation
And deliver a loin’s load
For thine is the sacred semen
The most gooey glory
May it last forever
Amen.
He shook his head and smiled, relaxed back, and closed his eyes.
I started by rubbing his lower legs with fingertips, then the inside of his arms, almost to the tickle point. I liked how he squirmed, and that his cock stayed hard. I sat back again, waited until his cock had subsided just a bit.
Then stroked his chest and inner thighs.
Cock went back to attention straight away. No question as to the level of his excitement, I was going to have to go slow.
So just for me, I began to run the underside of my penis and my cock-head over various parts of his body. Felt good to feel my smooth excited skin graze his body hair, the skin of his legs, belly, different textures. I poked my prick into his armpit hair, along his face, cheeks, forehead.