“Can I try some of that?”
“I thought you didn’t need it?”
There we were again, sitting on Miles’s couch with our soft cocks in our hands, about to start another session. The heat was holding strong through mid-September, sweat ran down the side of my face and trickled under my arms as he asked to use some of my lube.
“I don’t,” he replied from inside his t-shirt as he peeled it off, tossing it in the corner, “but if you brought that thing today, I wanna try it.”
“Ohh,” I joked, readjusting my legs where they stuck to the leather, “you remembered all about that, huh, bro? You were ready for that one.”
“Whatever, whatever,” he nodded towards the bottle in my hand.
I couldn’t tell for sure, but he was staring pretty intently in that area. My softy was lying across my thigh from where I’d just finished coating it in lube, slowly chubbing up.
“You got it,” I used my thumb to pop the cap open and reached over to his side of the couch, “you probably won’t need a lot, try it and see if you want more.”
The first afternoon we kicked it, I would never have made the slightest suggestive move. But Miles and I had been hanging out a couple times a week for the better part of a month and things had become pretty normalized between us. I squeezed out a small stream of the clear liquid onto his shaft while he held it, watching as he spread it around. His dick was still fat when it was soft, he was definitely a shower more than a grower. My eyes stayed glued to it while he pulled his foreskin down, stroking slowly.
I could have just handed him the bottle, I think we both knew that. But Miles had started this whole thing off with a couple brazen displays, and now he wasn’t the only one casually pushing the envelope. I might not be as carelessly homoerotic as he was—he had that overconfident, never-got-bullied vibe to the way he acted around that kind of stuff—but I knew how to play around with the tension between us. It turned me on like crazy every time we acted like it was nothing.
Weeks ago, I came back over a couple days after our first hangout, still unsure about the whole thing. Had he been hinting at something, or was he genuinely just a straight guy who’d gotten comfortable beating it with his bros a long time ago? It wasn’t out of the question. As much as I wanted to ask him outright, something stopped me as we hung out that second day. I realized that I didn’t really want to go there, or at least not right away. Miles seemed like he’d make a good friend. I didn’t really see him as someone to pursue or try to hook up with right then.
We didn’t mention the incident from the previous hang, just sat back with some beers and talked about the team. I won’t act like I didn’t sneak looks at his body while we were around the apartment, he was still sexy as hell and liked to dress in clothes that left little to the imagination. As the evening wore on we got delivery and watched a movie. Just when I was sure it really was a one-time thing stemming from him catching a sex scene on TV, he adjusted himself in his shorts with a lingering grip, leaving one hand cupping his bulge.
“I’m probably gonna go to bed soon,” he said, checking his phone with a slight yawn, “but I usually bust one right before.”
“Knocks you right out,” I replied, hiding my relief and excitement, “lil’ bust and bedtime.”
We laughed for a second. Then he reached over and opened his laptop.
Nothing happened. Or at least, nothing as tense and erotic as the first time. We just pulled up some porn and got to work, although this one lasted a lot longer. We talked through the whole thing, mostly about the video we were watching, whether we’d tried something on screen before. No touching or spit-sharing, but when I said I was getting close to finishing, Miles jumped up and scrambled past me, telling me to hold up.
His thick, swinging dick came an inch from my face as he stumbled over my knees, the coffee table was pulled close to the couch from when we’d been eating. I stopped stroking and looked at him, watching his ass as he quick-walked to the bathroom. He came back holding a hand towel, tossing it at my face. When I grabbed it I instantly knew he’d been using it to catch his loads from the patchy, hard texture.
“You splattered my couch last time,” he shuffled across again, facing away from me this time, “I gotta protect the leather.”
His legs parted, and I caught a glimpse of his sack hanging down, the dark-haired shadow of his untanned ass opening up for a moment. The light fur, his olive skin covered in a sheen of sweat and the tan lines from his soccer shorts burned themselves into my memory. I suppressed the urge to shove my face forward, tongue-first.
When I came (tossing the towel on the table in front of me so I could show off) I knew he was watching like the time before. Then he’d pushed the laptop out of the way and pulled the towel over to his side, soaking his cum on top of mine in thick, heavy splashes as I watched him stroke.
That was when I learned Miles was kind of preoccupied with how big my loads were, because he commented that he thought his was bigger that time. Typical competitive jock. He was probably right, though. I’d been jerking off like crazy in the days since our last encounter, my reserves were pretty drained.
Since then, it had become an unspoken ritual of our hangouts to finish up by busting on whatever shirt or rag he had lying around. Making it a game to see whose cumshot was bigger fit right in with his personality, the pretense of competition staving off the potential weirdness of what we were doing. It also meant I could pay rapt attention while he drained his balls every time, and I knew he did the same.
I acted like I didn’t care but I’d started holding off from masturbating between our hangouts, determined to drench whatever cumrag we shared and hear him admit when he’d been beat. I might shoot farther than him, but Miles had big, heavy nuts that pumped out thick loads every time we went toe-to-toe. We seemed pretty evenly matched, and whoever lost had to buy the beer the next time we got together.
===
This session was different because I’d casually mentioned my pocket pussy the week before, and he’d expressed an interest in it. Figuring I’d blow his mind a little, I brought over a bag of supplies, first among them the lube we were now sharing. As I leaned over the side of the couch to grab the bag and start showing him stuff, Miles jumped up and grabbed his laptop.
Remembering the femboy video I’d seen on his feed, I wondered if he’d forgotten something questionable on the screen and was trying to hide it.
It turned out he was connecting it to the TV so we could watch on a bigger screen. He crouched down, naked, and reached behind the shelf to fish out his HDMI cord. When he did I got a full view of his exposed hole, cheeks spread. It took him a little while because he was trying to plug it in with only one hand; the other one was still covered in lube and resting uselessly on one bent leg. I stopped what I was doing and watched his dick and balls sway, his glutes and back muscles working as he fiddled with the cable.
He stood up, huffing a little as I went back to my bag, my cock filling out along my thigh.
“You pick out a long one?” I asked, unzipping my backpack and looking inside. “I don’t want to keep getting up over and over again.”
“One hour compilation,” he said to my right, flopping back down to the couch.
I like to edge myself sometimes, stroking for a good while when I have free time and want to make my orgasm as strong as possible. Miles had admitted that he usually just beat his meat until he came, but when I explained how nice it could feel he’d started to come around a little. Truthfully, I just wanted to elongate the sessions with him, and he seemed to agree on some level because ever since the first time, we’d slowly been extending the duration.
“Lemme see it.”
He was impatient. I wondered again how often he got laid. A hot, charismatic guy like him in a relatively large city? I figured he’d be swimming in it, but from what he’d told me it seemed like Miles just worked and went to practice or our weekend games. As a matter of fact, from what I could tell about his schedule, I was probably one of the only social calls in his week.
I pulled out the black plastic case containing my pocket pussy and laid it across my knees so it wouldn’t squash my semi. Popping it open like a briefcase full of money, I pulled the thing out and showed it to him. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a six-inch translucent cylinder of silicone with small openings at either end. It might have looked simple, but the inside was a tunnel of small soft nubs and tight channels that felt amazing to slide over your cock.
“Looks weird as hell,” he said, dropping his dick and reaching for it while the porn played on low volume in front of us. “How much did this thing run you?”
“I dunno,” I said, handing it to him and grinning when he made a face at the fleshy texture, “like eighty, a hundred bucks? I bought it a couple of years ago. Honestly, I don’t use it a lot, it feels crazy good, but the cleanup is annoying.”
“No shot, bro,” he squeezed it in both hands, fingering one of the holes curiously, “a Benjamin just to fuck a tube?”
“You say that,” I grabbed the lube and squirted some on my hand, grabbing my cock and watching him play around with the toy while I worked up a full hard-on, “but you don’t know shit yet, just wait. Five minutes, you’ll be all, ‘bro, just let me borrow it for a couple days.’”
“Does it matter what end you use?”
“Nah,” I said, finding it kind of funny how fascinated he seemed, “just make sure you lube up the entrance or it’ll be uncomfortable.”
Miles was slowly pushing two fingers into the cock sleeve while he held it, glancing up at the TV every couple of seconds.
“Gimme some more,” he said, lifting his arms up to indicate his expanding cock.
I watched him get steadily harder, his shaft filling out and extending between his legs as someone moaned on the video. How the hell did this become my usual Wednesday night? I reached over and dripped more lube for him, setting the open bottle on the table for when he needed it.
“You got more stuff?” He was watching while I searched through my bag.
I pulled out a plastic baggy containing a few different types of cock rings, peeling it open and pulling out the one I actually used on occasion. It wasn’t a full-on ball stretcher, just a silicone ring that tugged on my nuts in a way that felt great.
“What’s that supposed to do? You got all this kinky shit, man.”
I decided to ignore the second part. I had a few more things in the bag, but I didn’t know how he’d react to a prostate massager.
“I think they were originally supposed to like, keep you hard.” I stretched the ring out and pulled it over my sack, shifting it around to sit nice and comfortable. “The ones that go on your dick, I mean. I feel like they cut off circulation, though, so I only use this one.”
“’Cause you got a big dick,” Miles said, making no attempt to hide what he was looking at.
The ring had the added benefit of making me look a little bigger, so I wasn’t complaining. I was almost fully hard from the situation alone, having my balls pulled on and someone talking about my size was getting me there.
“I think it makes it feel better when I bust, too.”
That got his attention.
“You got another one?”
“Not like this,” I replied, “but if you wanna try it, I don’t mind.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah who cares, I use it at home all the time.”
The idea of him wearing my ring while he pounded his meat turned me on, and I wanted to see those big jock balls of his bouncing in it. I carefully pulled it off, showing him how to keep from having it pinch anything.
Then it occurred to me: Was he about to ask me to put it on him? He hadn’t been shy about the lube, but full touching would probably cross some sort of line. If I got on my knees in front of him…it seemed like a classic recipe for a blowjob, it would really be too obvious to ignore.
He cut my little fantasy short, though, laying the pocket pussy on his stomach and reaching for the ring. I watched closely as he stretched it out and tugged it over his egg-sized nuts. I hadn’t gotten the best look at them in our previous sessions, they hung pretty low most of the time, and we always sat side-to-side. They were bigger than mine, and I’d measured up enough in the locker rooms to know I was on the larger side in that department.
“How does it feel?” I asked as he picked the pocket pussy up with one hand and his shaft with the other.
“Kinda weird,” he said, giving his dick a few slow tugs, “but definitely good. I might have to get one of these, it really feels better when you cum?”
I nodded, our eyes meeting for a moment as we both settled in and got comfortable. Most guys would act awkward as hell in a situation like this. If they were supposedly just getting off together out of horny convenience, that is. I wasn’t about to investigate it too thoroughly, I didn’t want to fuck it up.
We finally started and I made a point of actually looking at the TV screen. I think the challenge of sneaking peeks and occasionally catching Miles catching me were the hottest parts of what we were doing. I still couldn’t tell if he wanted something more to eventually happen, or maybe just liked showing off. A part of me that I’d sworn off a long time ago wanted him to be exactly the straight guy he seemed to be. I was kind of guilty about that, but I didn’t exactly have a line of suitors just then, either.
Whatever justification I needed, Miles got me rock hard just sitting there and exuding his constant jock-boy horniness. The idea that he saw me as some sort of sexual rival had my libido out of control. I stroked my shaft nice and slow, feeling the heat of his apartment and listening for when he finally gave my toy a try. The slick sounds of our lubed-up hands mingled with the video.
From the corner of my eye I saw Miles steadily work his dick, his breathing getting a little heavy as he reached his full size. I’d seen it enough now, it was a familiar sight, and I wasn’t nervous about noticing the little details anymore.
The lighter olive skin of his pelvis was covered in a thin layer of dark hair near his crotch. He might trim it from a full-on bush but he didn’t shave smooth like I did. The inch-wide treasure trail from his stomach led directly into his pubes, and his thighs weren’t super hairy like his lower legs were. His chest had a nice coating, though, and I loved the tufts of dark hair peeking out from his sweaty pits.
From the patch between his legs, a mouthwateringly thick cock stood up at an angle with a slight upward curve. It fit the way he stroked it perfectly, pointing towards his chest. I always wondered whether the way a guy beat his meat shaped his cock, or the other way around.
When it was soft, his foreskin covered the head with a little extra hanging on the end, but when he got hard, I loved watching it slowly pull back until his fat, slightly tapered tip was exposed. It was perfectly proportioned, only slightly less thick towards the end, a darker color than his normal skin tone, except for the light-tan head. He had one of those great cocks with a pronounced and defined underside. When he came, I could always see it pulsing as each pump made its way up from his nuts.
I loved Miles’s big, heavy balls. It was always too hot in his apartment; they hung low and full of cum whenever we stripped down to beat off together, one slightly above the other. Because of the fast, sort of frantic way he often stroked they always bounced and slapped against his sweaty skin, making a noise that punctuated his low groans and heavy breathing. He always spread his muscled thighs wide, our legs usually ending up touching, and I knew it was because he needed to make room for those wrecking balls.
Our cocks were pretty different. We hadn’t gone and pulled out a ruler or anything, but Miles made it clear he’d compared them. I’d thought about asking him if he’d ever measured how thick he was, partially because he seemed to care about size and I wanted to make sure he was proud of his impressive girth. I also thought if we broke out a tape measure, I might get a chance to be the one wrapping it around him.
I was somewhere around seven inches, I knew from being asked by an old hookup. Where he was cut and curved I was circumcised and straight, shaved smooth the way I like it. My tan was more pronounced than his, so my crotch looked pale as hell in comparison to my legs and stomach from practicing shirtless all summer. I’ve heard I have a pretty cock, with a pronounced vein running down the side of my thick shaft and a pink tip that stands out a little. My balls weren’t as big as Miles’s, but they were a solid handful, and I thought the whole package looked great, just right for my frame.
Once we’d been stroking for a few minute,s he grabbed the lube and squirted some on one of the pocket pussy’s entrances, working it around with his finger while his cock bounced a little, asking for attention. I wanted him to enjoy himself with it. It was kind of strange, like pleasure-by-proxy, but if the toy I brought over got him off, I thought it might scratch the naughty itch I felt whenever we hung out.
I couldn’t help myself; I wanted to gauge his reaction when he first went inside. He grabbed his shaft at the base and held it upright, lowering the toy towards his tip until it touched down. Because of the way he was holding it he couldn’t penetrate the small opening in one go, but he was only rubbing his cockhead around at first.
“It gets warmer once you use it a little.”
My cock sleeve was see-through, and that was my favorite part about it. I couldn’t wait to see the shape of Miles’s fat hog stretching it out from the inside. He glanced over at me, still circling the tiny hole with his tip.
“Do you fuck it? Or just jerk off like normal with it in your hand.”
“You can do whatever,” I said, “it feels the best when you push all the way through and come out the other end.”
Just as I was finishing my sentence, Miles gripped the pocket pussy with both hands and pushed it down over the head of his cock. He’d been looking at me, but as soon as the toy stretched and swallowed his tip his expression shifted. His mouth opened in surprise and pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing like he hadn’t expected it to feel so good.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed, looking at the toy as it slowly engulfed more of his dick, making wet noises as he dropped his second hand to his thigh.
I couldn’t look away. The slightly-blurred image of his cock forcing its way deeper made my own dick jump, I felt a pump of precum wet my tip where I gripped it. The flexible toy bent in his hand to fit his curved shape, and I was close enough to see the tighter areas of the tunnel inside flex as he pulled it further down. In a few seconds he was buried to the hilt, groaning as he twisted it from side to side, spreading the lube all over the interior. His cockhead was barely poking through the other end, when he started pulling it back up the toy made sucking sounds that I knew felt awesome.
“Bro….”
“I told you, man.”
“My nuts are trying to pull up like I’m gonna bust,” he said, “look.”
He was right, I knew exactly how it felt getting squeezed by the ring when I was close. I watched as his sack tensed and shifted against the restraint, he slowly pushed the pocket pussy back down his shaft.
“Better be careful,” I said, trying to use a joking tone but sounding husky and a little taunting.
“Shit,” he said again, grabbing the cock sleeve with two hands and squeezing as he pumped it up and down.
His arms and abs were tightly activated. I could tell Miles was caught in the horned-up trap between wanting to draw out what he was feeling and suppressing the urge to go wild. After a few slow plunges he stopped, holding the toy in place while he pumped his hips up from below in hard, short thrusts. It was like he couldn’t help himself.
Fuck.
His stomach crunched, and his breath came in short bursts. Watching him immediately shift into humping like an animal reminded me how much of a typical guy he could be. It also made me think for the first time what he must be like in bed. I’d pictured some scenarios so far, but it always had to do with the next logical step in our hangouts. You need some help with that, bro? That kind of thing.
It made perfect sense, really. Miles was brash, masculine and athletic; of course he would fuck like that, all power and aggression. He kept it up for a little while, his balls bouncing, then stopped abruptly. I’d been stroking nice and slow, trying to edge and watch the video between glances to his end of the couch.
“This thing is crazy,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, “but if I keep going, I’ll cum too quick.”
Things had been pretty tame in the several hangouts since we first jerked off together, but something must have been in the air that day. I wanted to take risks. Squirting lube onto Miles’s cock wasn’t going to cut it. He was holding the pocket pussy lazily in his right hand, motionless with his dick halfway buried inside.
“Alright,” I said, “let me get a turn then.”
I leaned over, reached out my hand and grabbed the toy at the upper end where it was slack and empty. I slowly pulled in one smooth motion, feeling the resistance as his thick meat slid out underneath. His cock slapped to his stomach with a wet smack, a thin string of lube dripping from the hole he’d just been filling.
“Dog,” he complained, laughing a little, “I didn’t say I was done.”
“Seemed like fun,” I said, repositioning my grip on the toy, “you can have it back when you’re not about to bust right away, lil’ bro.”
He’d been smiling, but I knew how to push his buttons, and while the vibe was still friendly, I knew he’d react to that.
“It’s like that, huh?”
I held my cock from the base and slid the pocket pussy over the top couple of inches, looking at the TV. It felt hot to the touch, the inside was warm and pliable from him using it. The vicarious contact with the thick dick I’d been admiring for weeks, feeling the heat from him stretching it out, made my brain short-circuit. I gasped a little, pushing it further down and feeling tingles go up my spine as the swirling texture and tightness wrapped around me.
“It’s like that,” I tried to keep my voice like I was clowning him in the locker room, but I knew I sounded like I was barely holding it together.
How oblivious was he? I earnestly did not know. The way he looked at me on our first day doing this had seemed almost hungry. But it just as easily could have been some alpha male eye contact thing. I could feel him watching, maybe just annoyed at me for taking his toy, but I was going to put on a show either way. I knew what felt best with my pocket pussy, and it had the added benefit of encouraging him to get an eyeful.
“You should try this,” I glanced his way and found Miles already looking at what I was doing, stroking absently while he did.
Squeezing the sleeve tightly around my cock, I went until I was balls deep. Then I pushed even further, sighing when my cockhead emerged from the other end. Scrunching the silicone down as far as it would go before letting up on it, the tight lip slowly closed over my tip again. The next time I pushed it down, a tingle lanced up from below and a small spurt of precum pumped out, dripping down the underside of my exposed shaft.
“Fuck,” I groaned, forgetting about the performance for a second.
“Lemme try.”
Just when my tip was swallowed back inside, Miles grabbed the toy. I’d made sure to grab the loose end while he was only halfway inside, but he didn’t follow that rule. My hand was still on it, and my cock was fully buried in the silicone tube when his hand made contact, our fingers in an awkward tangle. He didn’t use a loose grip, either, and as he slid it up my length I let out an involuntary noise in my throat.
I froze. It lasted maybe two or three seconds, but I was stupefied as his hand essentially stroked me from base to tip through the toy, my cock dropping down and bobbing in the air once he’d pulled it all the way off.
I couldn’t look at him, not yet. I’d managed to stifle a full-on moan—it had come out as a short unh sound—but I knew he’d heard it. I felt like I might cum, my pulse rushing through my ears as I frantically thought about what had just happened. It was almost definitely deliberate.
Right?
Shit! I was far from lacking confidence. In virtually any other situation, I would have stared at him until the tension crested and broke, because my instincts were screaming to do exactly that. What kind of a chokehold did this guy have on me? Was he playing chicken? I hadn’t felt like this in years, a mixture of horny and unsure, which made my blood boil.
When I snapped out of it, I heard Miles starting to work his dick with the sleeve again to my right. I didn’t dare touch myself just yet, but I knew he was going to copy my move and I wanted to see.
Sure enough, he pushed his fat cock through the pocket pussy until he was filling it up, then used both hands to force it even further down. His head speared through the other side and pulsed, he held still for a few seconds before pulling it back up and all the way off. He repeated this a few times, huffing each time his tip was engulfed from underneath by the warm, slippery hole.
We repeated our little tug-of-war a few more times as the video played on, and both of us stopped talking completely. One of us would stroke with the cock sleeve for a little while, groaning and wordlessly bragging about how good it felt. The other would watch until he got jealous enough to steal it back. It was playful, but the testosterone was flowing.
The second time I took it from him I did it just the way Miles had. Only I grabbed it as close to the base as I could get, my hand brushing against the course texture of his pubes. Gripping tightly, I felt the shape of his cock for the first time. With the added thickness of the toy layered on top I could hardly fit my hand all the way around it. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, and just when my hand passed over his tip I gave it the tiniest twist. I heard his intake of breath but didn’t pause, leaning back to my side of the couch and quickly plunging the pocket pussy onto my dick.
Miles didn’t like to be outdone. Less than a minute later, I had the toy as far down as it could go, the top three inches of my dick exposed, which I was stroking with my free hand. The second I let go to pull the toy up again, he leaned over and quickly pushed my hand away to snatch it from me, the smell of his sweat and deodorant growing stronger as he got close.
He made a triumphant sound as he pulled, the stretched-out silicone sliding up my shaft towards the tip and swallowing it again. By the time he had it off me, I physically curled forward to try and keep from cumming, my nuts pulled up close, and my heart hammering.
“Allriiight, bro,” I wheezed, trying to play it off, “you didn’t have to take it at the worst possible moment.”
“I got an idea,” he said, ignoring me.
Miles stood up, hunching down and bending his knees. He set the toy on the edge of his coffee table and held it there, using his other hand to slap his cockhead on the opening a few times. I watched his glutes tense and flex as he pushed forward, sinking his dick inside. His nuts touched the edge of the table when he bottomed out, and he started pumping into it steadily. He kept watching the TV while he fucked it, the wet sounds of the toy filling my ears as I watched him pick up the pace.
Soon he was plowing his thick rod into the toy in long strokes, not going too hard since his balls would have taken a beating. He grabbed his beer from earlier and took a long drink while he pumped his hips, shaking his head when he finished it. Cocky, but my eyes were glued to the scene in front of me, so I guess he had good reason to feel that way.
“Grab my shirt,” he panted, “I know you’re buying the beer next time, I’m about to break some kind of record, bro.”
He’d glanced over at me from the corner of his eye while he said it, flashing that overconfident smirk.
“Oh, yeah?” I said, popping up and walking over to where he’d thrown it earlier, “bet on it.”
“A bottle of Jack,” he said, not slowing his pace as I moved stuff out of the way and laid his shirt across the table in front of him.
I was on the other side of the table from him, still stroking my dick, the video forgotten as we talked terms. I made zero attempt to hide my frequent glances at his pumping cock.
“Too cheap,” I said, reaching over and grabbing the toy again.
I slid the pocket pussy off him overhand, immediately slapping it down on my side of the table and pushing inside. His cock flipped up and fell down on the tabletop a few times, he must have been pretty close. He started using his hand again, standing up to full height and grabbing his nuts as he jerked off.
“Name it, then,” he challenged, staring at me.
“I win,” I huffed, “you wash my dirty soccer stuff for a month, plus a bottle of Jack.”
“Done,” his hand crossed the table and grabbed at the toy again, pulling it off me just as I was thrusting forwards, making me groan in frustration, “but when I win, you have to buy me one of these.”
The shirt was already getting splotched with dark spots where the lube and precum had dripped onto it. I didn’t care who won, I was right on the edge and I felt like I would pass out if I didn’t unload soon. Everything felt hot, sweat running down our skin, two feet of table separating Miles and I as we shook hands, sealing the bet.
He stayed standing, his heavy nuts swinging as he stroked with the pocket pussy, his muscles tensing as he got closer to finishing. I kept going, unbending my knees and feeling that familiar sensation of a long-delayed orgasm growing stronger.
For a few more seconds, the only sounds were our labored breathing, the video behind me and the wet, sloshing noises of us getting ready to blow our loads.
“Fuck,” I groaned, “oh, fuck, fuck.”
My nuts pulled close to my body, and a wave of warmth ran over me as I rushed up to the edge and went over it.
Just as I felt it start, Miles moaned deep in his chest and pushed the cock sleeve as far as it would go, then pulled it off and dropped it on the table, seizing his meat and stroking it. I rammed my fist to the base of my shaft as my legs tensed up, stroking back up towards the tip as the first spurt went clear across the table and splattered across his stomach.
Miles’s cock pumped once, then a thick rope shot out and landed on the shirt between us, immediately followed by another that went even further, splashing my dick while I frantically worked it. I hardly had time to register what happened. I was cumming so hard, I was lightheaded, my shoulders spasming. I kept stroking, his hot juice lubricating me as I blasted another pump that hit both the shirt and his thigh. Our eyes were locked on the space between us, fixated on the massive loads we were blowing, trying to see which was bigger as we groaned and soaked his t-shirt.
The cock sleeve lay right in the middle, getting plastered from both sides. I knew I shot the most distance. For a second, I thought I might pass out from pleasure as our cum streaked across my vision, gushing and shooting. But after each of my ropes started getting smaller Miles pumped out spurt after spurt, his strokes getting slower as he shuddered and moaned. It didn’t last that much longer, but in terms of sheer volume I thought he might have outdone me.
Those big bull-balls must have been full to the brim, because when I looked from his heaving chest to the tabletop the scene was almost unbelievable. We’d painted the shirt completely, there was cum running off the edges of the table in places and I could see we’d hit each other more than a little. There were wet streaks running down his abdomen into his pubes. I could still feel the heat of his biggest shot on my cock.
Breathing heavily, I finally let go of my dick and used my forearm to wipe the sweat off my forehead, a rush of endorphins mingling with the implications of what had just gone down.
“Holy shit, bro,” Miles panted, “how am I supposed to clean this up?”
“How do we tell who won?” I asked, looking at him.
His expression turned serious as he studied the tabletop, one hand still holding his thick meat as it slowly deflated.
“I dunno,” he finally said.
He looked at me straight on for a couple of seconds, that familiar challenge crossing between us, his deep brown eyes seeming to say something. If there was going to be any kind of revelation with a guy like him, I didn’t expect it to come the moment after he’d finished, even if it was all over me.
“Call it a tie?” he asked.
“You just don’t want to wash my dirty shorts,” I grinned at him, swooning a little internally when he flashed that cocky gap-toothed smile.
“You just don’t wanna drop a hundred bucks on another pocket pussy, bro, quit playing around.”
Oh, well. I guess we’d have to keep sharing.
