an easy motion. The speed felt familiar but different! matched him stroke for stroke. We just stood there, jacking each other, our beads thrown back.
I could smell us both now. His maleness mingling with my own odors.
“You want to do more than jack it,” he asked.
“This is fine for the moment.”
“You got a nice pussy. My finger moves in and out so easily.”
“You’re my first cock,” I replied.
His dick stiffened in my hand, This is it, the famous orgasm. Nothing happened.
His thumb came up and found my cut. He massaged it until he had two sticky fingers then. I rotated my hand so that my thumb could stroke the oozing hole in the end of his cock. Then I moved my thumb and played with the soft part under the head.
“You want to finish off, or play some more?”
I closed my eyes and thought while I continued to match his rhythm. A cock in the hand didn’t feel half bad. I, didn’t know if I wanted it up my snatch or not. I just went with the feelings. His free hand grabbed my wrist, holding my jacking hand still.
“Don’t want to paint your nice coat.”
“Left pocket.”
“Huh?”
“Tissues.”
He misunderstood and reached to my right pocket with his left hand.
My voice sounded tight to me and I knew why. His thumb was working one trigger and his long middle finger another. I felt my eyes cloud over. My whole body began to shake. He massaged harder and faster.
I forgot about his cock entirely at that moment. I was just intent on getting off myself. And I did. A double whammy within seconds of each other. I came and came, my whole body on fire with it. He slowed down.
“My Jack still needs Mehoff.”
“Sorry.” And I was. I guess a guy wants to get off too. I knelt at his feet, fascinated by his now deep maroon shaft. The head was glossy when I pulled my hand back. His balls jiggled against the jock pouch and straps which were hooked under his nuts.
I watched them go up and down, bouncing like a bicycle on a rough road.
“Tighter.”
I tightened and stroked faster. He held the tissue he’d managed to fish out of the package close to his dick, but not so it covered the beautiful thing.
“Let me,” he said, “you spit on it”
I guess a guy knows his own rhythm better than somebody else, although I had to admit he’d found mine well enough… My cunt was still pulsing.
He grabbed his dick underhanded and began to pull. I watched the balls jump up and down, watched his body as it began to turn pink. His breath was pretty fast too. I spit onto his rod again. He used his hand to wipe the stuff into the skin. The tissue turned to tatters.
I panicked and pulled out another. Just in time too.
“Catch it”
I wanted to see it, but I didn’t. I looked down and held the tissue like a kind of body protector. The big eye opened… gaped actually, all pink and moist inside. Then the white cream began to spurt out. The stuff nearly made a hole in the tissue. Then another stream. And another. Wow, this guy was really blowing his wad. The smell was intense too. About as intense as I got when I came off. Then it was over. Tony stood there, pulling his hand forward and squeezing as his thing got softer and softer. I watched the white stuff being forced out. I got another tissue and tried to clean him up, but he moaned and held my hand still.
“Wow.”
I agreed, “I guess. That’s beautiful to touch. To watch.”
“It tastes good too.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. A single drop, a little clearer now, bubbled out of the opening. I dropped the tissue to the floor, leaned forward and stroked him one more time. A. heavy drop of his stuff fell onto my tongue. I flipped it back into my mouth. Not bad. Not bad at all.
“Looks like we’re done.” He pulled his jock back into place. I did the same with my panties and jeans.” We were both respectable now.
I said, “You never know. The way the director operates, he’ll find something wrong with our box.”
“You mean poor little Jack Mehoff?”
We laughed and talked all the way back to my dorm. I really liked Tony. He was cute, funny and apparently hung, though I didn’t have any experience with other guys to prove anything.
I hoped I could “liberate” our prop after the show to remember Tony by. And maybe by then, Jack would have been in my box. Who knows?
Chapter 4
Hank up on the light bridge Boy, a guy gets hot and horny up on the first bridge; I ought to know. Dennise Loring and I were up on the bridge. That’s a technical term. Right behind the front curtain is a catwalk about 18” wide, with pipes running along it to hang spotlights on. You’re probably seen TV lights… Charles Kauralt’s opening wide shot on Sunday Morning shows a lot of light. Ours are mounted along the railing and then plugged into the electrical outlets.
We don’t use plain white light at all. Surprise Pink and Bastard Amber, along with Special Light Amber and Steel Blue are some of the fanciful names for our colors.
The gels, actually plastic though they used to be gelatin like Jell-O in thin sheets which had been hardened with formaldehyde… that bit of useless information courtesy of Dr. Dewey and lighting class. Anyway, Dennise and I had to climb the bridge with a case of gels to replace the ones there. Dr. Dewey had a whole new plan for the lights and we had to put the right colors in the right places.
Dennise was wearing a long skirt with buttons down the font… kind of beige, we don’t have a gel like that and a dark green blouse with cows on it. I didn’t know if she was trying to cover up the fact that she was lacking in the tit department or not.
Anyway, I made her climb the ladder before I went up it. That way I got a chance to look up her skirt a little. Hey, a guy has got to take the chances offered to him doesn’t he?
She was wearing some kind of dark pantyhose so I didn’t get to see much. She smelled really good though. When we got to the top of the iron ladder that ran up the wall, I lifted the case with the gels up and handed them to her. That’s when she bent over the opening far enough for me to see that she wasn’t exactly cow tits or anything like that, but good enough for government work.
I was wearing my tight jeans and boxer shorts with sheep baahing all over them.
Since heat rises and we were above the stage, I wore a thin shirt too, no T-Shirt underneath. If you’ve got a dirty job to do, you might as well be comfortable.
Dennise gave me a hand up the ladder the last few feet. Boy, did she ever have soft hands. You know long, delicate fingers, thin wrists. I wondered idly how those fingers would feel around my dick.
She was all business, wanting to get the job done so she could go on to her next piece of business. She’s the kind of girl who keeps lists and checks things off.
So… I handed her the metal frames as she called out the light number. I watched her body move as she bent over the light to slip the new gel in and take the old, faded one out.
Some of them were more faded than my jeans, but none of them were as stuffed with a randy cock as mine were. Gees, I wanted some sex in the worst way. I tried to find something suggestive to say, but every time I
