Guest post: This is a story by Tom (loyal reader) to pay homage to this blog!
You start to play once again with your cock, now so close for me to see the veins running through it. I can see the way your urethral opening flares when a new bead of precum emerges. I can see the way your foreskin, so tight around your shaft, is able to still advance and shelter your pointed head, protecting that delicate skin to keep it moist and sensitive. I can now see the smoothness of your foreskin’s edge as you gather it in front of your tip, and watch how it slides smoothly back and over your corona, finally coming to rest as it stretches over your mid shaft. I can examine that area of skin, your frenulum, now turned inside out, and watch how your sticky fingers return to this area because the sensations are so sweet.
You now take one hand, followed by the other, and stroke upward from the base to your tip. You do this upstroke about five times before reversing it in a backward stroke that you repeat similarly. Five strokes with each hand forward; five strokes with each hand back. You continue to drool and your stroking spreads the nectar over your wet surface. When this becomes too intense you start to back off, using only one finger to flick the underside of your shaft, tracing the length of your ridged band, that place of gathered skin and nerve endings that is simply electric.
“Fuck I can feel the fluid inside me starting to move,” you say, and I lick my lips in anticipation for what is in store.
As you continue this agonizing tease of your frenulum, your cock swells, and you once again are making conscious effort to breathe steadily and regularly. Your hips start to move, as if your cock has taken control of your body and is demanding more stimulation. Your finger, however, maintains the lightest of touch, and all your hips are able to do is circle your sweet spot over your fingertip.
You are unable to obtain deeper pressure. This tease is doing wonders for your leakage, and your cock is now literally drooling with precum that you catch on your finger and use to further moisten your ridged band. You now move your finger up and over your glans, circling your drooling slit, and then back to your sweet spot, then back to your head, in a cycle of agonizing ecstasy that is clearly driving you wild. “Must…stay…relaxed…” is all you can muster, as your voice dissolves into long sighs and the most delicious groans.
Once again, I bring you back into focus by asking “Tell me what is happening?”
As you try to maintain control of your breath while continuing this one finger tease of your cock, you try to answer: “I’m starting to shake…standing here…Fuck, having a hard time staying relaxed… my excitement is so fucking high…Once again feeling full, distended with my fluid…Prostate is twitching…fluid is moving….aahhh….which is why…uuuhhh….my muscles…want to pulse…”
You now take a very deep breath and start to make a prolonged and mournful cry as you suddenly stop all stimulation. Once again we enter that suspended moment, when you are clearly in danger of spilling over into the inevitable reflex of full-on ejaculation, yet trying with all your might to hold yourself off. I know that I am either going to be met with a palmful of your milk, or it is going to hit me full force in the face. I am prepared for either scenario.
Your opening dilates, and once again the tap is open and flow begins. Because your cock is so hard and is pointing at an angle upward, your cum leaves your slit and slides down the underside of your glans to the lower end of your frenulum where it then falls off into a steady stream into my waiting hand. The flow is uninterrupted for about 5 to 6 long seconds as you take another breath in order to moan even more deeply. Your body starts to shake as this eruption starts to slow. I am left with a pool of your beautiful, white produce in my palm.
Coming down now, you collect yourself and smile at me. We both look at what I am holding and you suggest we taste it together. We each submerge a fingertip in the warm, silky liquid and once covered, we bring it to our mouths. Looking deeply into each other, we taste your milk at the same time. How can I state the bliss I feel in this moment, the connection to you and to your pleasure?
I can only say that your taste is superb. It is warm and silky, salty and sweet at the same time. We go back in for seconds, clearly both of us a bit greedy for this man produce that you have just created with stimulation and sexual excitement. I am taken away by the smell, texture, and taste, so powerful to me as a representation of your essence. You take some more and rub it over your glans and shaft, and then turn and move back to the bed, repositioning yourself as I continue to hold what remains. “Finish it,” you say, and I bring up my hand and engulf the remainder. “I am now a part of you,” you say, and I know this to be true as I swallow you.
Now we move on to an extended display of edging. You are again back on the bed facing me with your legs spread. You once again use your hand to push your cock away from your body so that it stands fully upright. Despite two emissions and almost two hours of cock and ass play you are still rock hard. Amazingly, I still see precum welling up at your tip. You spit into your hand and use it to revitalize your drying cum, and then start to move through a series of cock strokes and teases that take both our breaths away as you rise and fall and dance around your edge. Your knowledge of different ways of stimulating your member is vast and seemingly limitless because of the infinite combinations that you can make.
One of your favorites, you tell me, is a stroke called the Count-Up which you proceed to demonstrate. First you ask me to name a number between 10 and 15. I say 18. You call me cheeky. You start a long, slow downstroke with one hand from your glans to your cock base and over your balls, followed in turn by the other. You reverse this full stroke moving upward, one hand following the other. Count 1, although really it is four strokes. You then repeat this with two alternating downward strokes followed by two alternating upstrokes from each hand. Count 2, but it’s 4 strokes and a light goes off as to why you called me cheeky. You move on to three alternating strokes downward followed by three alternating strokes upward. Count 3. You are breathing heavily by the time you reach Count 10, especially on the upstroke which clearly is driving you crazy.
By Count 13 you have to stop after the downstroke to come down off the edge this has taken you toward. Composure once again regained, you start the slow, agonizing process of moving through 13 upstrokes, which is really 26. Each one has you moaning “Fuck” as your hand passes over your coronal ridge. Count 13. I start to wonder if you will be able to make it to 18 without passing the point of no return, and I ask you just that. You look at me, and in a half grimace, half smile because you are slowly counting downward toward 14, you say “It may take awhile…because I will have to stop and start…ahhh…approaching it…and then backing off…uuhhh…but that is what this…uuhhh…fucking stroke is all about” as your body jumps and quivers by the end of that round.
Again taking a break, you encircle your balls to pull them out, stretching your scrotum to help. You also take a firm hold of your glans and squeeze, another technique you say you use to help you off the edge. By Count 15 you are having a hard time even making it through half a round without having to stop. Your cock is so hard and red and glazed from all of the new precum now mixed with your semen from your previous two emissions. But like an adventurer on a search for lost treasure you muster onward, using every ounce of willpower, breath, concentration, and practiced ability to stay relaxed in the face of this onslaught of stimulation to your already overstimulated cock, to hold off the edge, to stop before you cross over into ejaculatory oblivion. You are finally at 18, moving slowly downward.
I am amazed that you have been able to continue this, that you have not given up and simply allowed yourself a full release. You are swearing and sweating again; I can see the sheen on your chest in the light, and this adds to your incredible sexiness. You are now taking repeated, deep breaths, moaning rhythmically as you are lost in sensation but battling to stay away from the precipice.
As you finish the final downstroke you look at me and say, “You…had…to pick…18?” and all I can do is just wink and smile in admiration. You enter the final lap, just 18 upstrokes with each hand. I know that the upstrokes are the hardest to endure, as they move your sensitive foreskin and stimulate your frenulum and head in such a way that each one brings you right to the edge. You pretty much have to stop for a few seconds between strokes, and these last 18 are agonizingly long as you writhe in ecstasy at each pass. 15…..16…….17……… 18. With the final stroke you let go of your cock, which flops down onto your belly, and you collapse, panting as you slowly come down off that final momentous stroke.
More than a few minutes go by before you collect yourself enough to look at me. I think you must be done despite not having ejaculated yet. “You must be wiped out,” I say. “Ready to stop? I would completely understand.”
But you sit back up and put your hand behind your cock, pushing it out again for full viewing. It certainly appears not to be finished based on how rigid it stands, pulsing against your hand. Just to confirm this you take your other hand and start a frenulum rub, using all five fingers and more precum.
“Well it appears you are far from done,” I say with an admiring smile. You nod but something has changed. Me, the room, the music has disappeared. You are focused solely on your cock. You massage this most sensitive part of your shaft, bringing yourself quickly back to a heightened state of arousal. “It’s time,” you whisper, more to yourself than to me, and I know this means you are driving yourself to a final release.
This last bit of edging is intense to watch. Cock-lost is what I call you, as all your concentration points toward stimulating yourself toward a final edge, then moving into a glorious launch of milk by recruiting all those ejaculatory muscles into unrestrained contraction. Your touch is light and teasing, moving from that delicious frenulum rub to strumming your ridged band to juicing your head to playing with your foreskin by moving it up and down over your glans.
You tease your coronal ridge, then back to your frenulum, then advance your prepuce, then you slowly pump your shaft from the lower portion. Your penis is the most rigid and swollen and red I have seen yet. Clear sticky fluid is leaking every few seconds. By changing the stimulation you stretch out the approach to the peak by preventing your cock from gaining a firm and direct foothold forward. Instead what you are doing is like climbing switchbacks toward orgasm.
Your breathing gets shallow, your moaning gets louder, and your body writhes. “Fuck…fuck…fuck…” is all you manage to get out as you build and build toward whatever awaits. Now back to a circling finger over your ridged band, your hips start to pump involuntarily as I can tell you are reaching the point of no return. You take in a deep breath, then start a long ecstatic cry as you suddenly stop all movement, and push out your cock toward me once again with your hand. As your cry nears the end of what remains of your breath, an eruption of cum emerges from your urethral opening. At first it flows and then quickly rises out in an arc caused by the internal buildup of pressure and the steady contraction of muscles to push it out. It runs down your shaft and splashes onto your balls which are drawn up as if to cushion the fall. Your spigot remains open for your biggest emission yet. You take in a quick breath and moan again as now your cock starts to jerk ejaculatory pumping, and semen begins pulsating out of it. After holding off for so long, you are now enjoying the intensity of full ejaculatory muscle contraction combined with a mind-blowing orgasm. Incredibly, your ejaculation is happening without any direct penile stimulation.
The first spurt arcs upward and lands on your right thigh. The second and third follow with additional force, flying through the air in a trajectory that takes them near your knee. The last three continue to decrease in intensity as this now clearer fluid streams down your shaft.
I say “Oh my God! That was fucking intense.” Before I realize what is happening you take hold of your slightly softening cock in a full circular grip and start a full on jack off. You are steady in your speed but clear in intention. You are going to try and cum again! My mouth falls open in amazement as instead of becoming refractory your cock resumes a rigid tumescence with more nectar emitting from the opening. How sensitive it must be!
There is no teasing now, none of those agonizing switchbacks, just a direct ride toward another peak with more sweet contractions if you are able to get there. I wonder how your glands could have any fluid left after all you have produced. I imagine your balls must be aching. I don’t bother asking because I don’t think you will hear me.
Cum-soaked, you fuck your hand and your hand fucks your cock. Your hips thrust upward and you grunt with each one. As your second finish approaches, your strokes shorten and focus on that most sensitive upper shaft, just under your coronal ridge, that sweet spot of foreskin, frenulum and ridged band that creates sexual lightning.
Soon you grunt “Fuuckk…cumming!!!” and your semen, now more like skim milk, watery and light-colored, spurts from your reddened head in six short arcs upward, landing in your pubic hair and lower belly while your legs twist and turn and your whole body jumps, as if the contraction of your ejaculatory muscles have taken over your entire body.
As the contractions end, you fall into the pillows, panting and moaning. Your cock starts to soften, but you scoop up your last ejaculate and take hold of your cock, focusing again on the sweet band under your ridge, and you stroke some more, moaning and grunting all over again.
After a short time you orgasm again with two small spurts. Amazingly, this produce is once again thick and milky. I just sit back now, unbelieving, but assuming there may be more. Indeed, you start to move your hand over your shaft again. Your poor cock is semi-soft and obviously extremely sensitive by your groans, yet you stroke, you harden, and as your moaning rises again you are roiled by another orgasm which leads to three more ejections of milk, one spurt reaching your belly and the other two covering your hand and dripping onto your balls.
Breathing in short burst, you take a run at a fifth orgasm, starting the most subtle of strokes at that frenulum zone that seems to have a direct path to your ejaculatory reflex. Your wet and deeply red cock is half hard as you build up your rhythm. Miraculously it hardens again, reacting to this unending stimulation, defying your hard-wired refractory reflex.
You are almost crying now you cross your peak. Your hips arc off the bed and I see two large spurts of semen shoot from your cock and land on your chest. As I watch your heaving and shaking body now covered in your beautiful milk, I am both amazed and incredibly grateful for what I have just witnessed. What you have done seems truly mythic. Your sperm filled seminal fluid is on your sweating chest. It is dripping off your softening cock. It is starting to dry on your loosening scrotum. It is dripping down your thighs. You are literally anointed in cum.
I sit and wait as you lay there, watching as your heaving chest starts to quiet. The room becomes still as we listen to each other breathe. You eventually raise yourself up to join me in your bedroom once again. “Welcome back,” I say. And I thank you for this most breathtaking display of self-love I have ever witnessed.
I ask you how you feel about the experience, and about sharing it with me. “I am simply drained. My internal muscles, my prostate have a pleasurable ache. My testicles ache too, given that their reservoirs have been drained. My cock is tingling and somewhat numb.” You tell me that having a witness to these intense acts of self-love made you feel incredibly vulnerable; I held the space for you and this added to the intensity and excitement. The result was you produced milk at a volume you have never before achieved, through three separate emissions and five full on orgasms, each containing its own ejaculation.
We talk about how this experience has increased both of our awe and wonder of male sexuality, male sexual organs, and how they can transport us to worlds of intense pleasure where we can experience intense self-love and the beauty of creation. The milk of life has unlimited volume. We just have to be willing to harvest it.
As I leave I present you with my gift, and a smile of gratitude lights up your handsome face. You tell me this book will enhance the growing content of your blog. This makes me smile with joy to be somehow a part of it.
As I ride down the elevator, entirely spent despite never once touching myself, I think back to the last thing you said before our goodbye embrace. Musing poetically on the whole ejaculatory experience, you said:
“I wish it was possible to slowly cum, like in slow motion, to spurt like in slow motion and to experience every single phase explicitly and intensively: how my sperm wanders from my testicles via the vas deference towards my prostate; how my semen is released from the seminal vesicles into the urethra; how my prostate hardens and discharges its secrete into the base of my penis; how my cum gives me the feeling of congestion; and how – as a reflex to that – my muscular structures begin their involuntary rhythmic spasms; how my cum is shooting out of my penis, how ropes of my warm cream are pulsing out of me until most of the stored amount of my juices is spent and the contractions decline up to the point where my muscles return to relaxation. Yes, this is exactly what I love.”
In gratitude, Nandisa!