By Hands Solo
(CumminUp.Vol1Nr1.1989)
"SEX DIRECTOR CASTING MAJOR RELEASE. Expect heavy shooting schedule. Recent
casting couch experience a must. Only superstars need apply."
What a creative way to announce a jack off party! Jerry was so original' Each of
his parties had a theme; there were the garden variety jockstrap affairs, where
needless to say, your BVD's stayed at home. There was that wonderful "Nature in
the Raw" soiree, where some men were the "flowers" and others "bees" — still
stings when I think of that one! (Sorry!)
And now the "Casting Couch" party! This would certainly bring yet another shade
to the meaning of the word, performance. Would life imitate art? Would art
imitate life? Could we be sure that some queen wouldn't blurt out, "I'm ready
for my close up, Mr. DeMille"?
It was a crisp November Saturday night. I was between boyfriends so the
photocopied invitation to the party held some allure. I had just about given up
hope thinking the days of wine, roses and orgies were over. Little did I know
that there had been an underground jack off circuit developing all around me for
the last seven years!
Jerry's apartment looked like any other in the area from the outside. He didn't
make me wait very long before answering his bell.
"Perry! So good of you to come — but not too soon, darling!" chirped Jerry as he
greeted me at the door.
"Jerry, are you soaking your contacts in Masengil again? — it's Marcus!" I
countered as I hugged him and then entered his guesthouse flat.
"You're Perry Thrust for the rest of the evening! Anyway, that's the name of
your character."
Jerry whisked me aside to make myself comfortable. I got a cold beer from the
fridge then found a doorway to occupy. They're the best places to be at parties
or bars — people have to squeeze by you! Jerry circumnavigated back to me to
hand me my "script" for my role as "Perry Thrust." He winked at me and said
tongue in cheek, "A demanding role, but you can flesh it out! Just remember —
all parts are as big as the actors can get them!"
The "script" I held in my hands was more like one of those packets of
instructions you play Murder Mystery games with. The first instructions were to
relax and socialize, which I had no problem doing. After all, I had already
jacked off with 90% of the people who were there. The doorbell rang and Jerry
floated by me to become the gracious host that he was famous for.
"Look, everyone! Its Clark Able!" piped Jerry, introducing a new guest into our
friendly club. A humpy blond stood dazed at the announcement, not knowing what
to make of it — or of our chorus of groans in response to Jerry's punstering.
Jerry pulled him inside and began to explain the evening’s activities. All eyes
were on the new meat — er, face — naturally.
It wasn't long before I had to take a leak. Being an aggressive S.O.B. and
noticing the bathroom door invitingly open, I entered and perched myself against
the pink tiled sink commode, waiting for my turn at the bowl. And how nice it
was to wait! The new cute blond was the one I was waiting on to finish his turn!
I was there just in time to watch him from behind as he began unbuttoning his
tight 501 jeans. They had to be peeled down from his trim 30 inch waist, past
his muscular thighs. His white crewneck tee shirt must have shrunk in the last
wash, or else he knew just the proper size to buy to show off the dimples just
below his tan line on his luscious white blond furry rump. He sheepishly glanced
around for a second, and then smiled to himself as he waited for his recycled
beer to make an exit.
"I'm kinda pee-shy," he said sideways.
"Here, let me help you," I offered. Keeping an eye on his whereabouts during the
evening was starting to pay off.
I stood a breath's length away from his warm body, echoing his own spread-eagled
stance with my legs just outside of his. I first gave him a gentle bear hug,
full-palmed across his speed bump pecs. My left hand sidewindered down his rock
hard torso to flirt with the tree tops of his furry backside. I guided my right
hand underneath his taut tee shirt to fine tune his push button nipples.
Surprisingly, he was much smoother than I imagined on his chest — what with all
that fur he supported to the south. But a hairy forearm is no guarantee for
splendour on the pecs.
I fantasized that he knew I would follow him into the bathroom. I began to
nibble on his left earlobe, having completely forgotten why we were both there.
I could tell by the smell of fresh talcum and the evidence of small cuttings
that he had just had a fresh haircut. I darted my tongue underneath the crewneck
collar of his shirt to taste his freckled shoulders, as he began to lean back
into my arms and tilt his head past mine to offer up his long neck to my velvet
tonguings.
By this time, his left hand was groping at my straining fly. His deft fingers
unbuttoned my jeans to probe my pubes just above my buried treasure. In a few
moments, my hard on was deftly guided out of its captivity and held captive,
sandwiched by the warm valley of his ass. He then pulled me closer with his left
hand on my backside, while slowly massaging his own raging hard on with his
right hand.
"We'll never get anything accomplished this way," he said, peeking out of his
eyes and smiling.
"Yes, we will," I said coyly. "Oh, yeah — I almost forgot why we were in here.
Stand aside a bit. Maybe we could pee together."
He moved to the left as I took my place next to him over the placid bowl. I
quickly undid the rest of my fly buttons and waited for our hard ons to subside.
My left arm rested across his shoulder while he held my waist by his right hand.
In a matter of moments, our trickles grew to full flow. A loud echoing of
splashing waters eliminated from our raining yellow torrents down into the now
percolating bowl. We watched our streams dance with each other, crossing
currents within and around themselves, his slightly darker in color than mine.
We smiled at each other, and then looked down into the mixture, while both our
grips became stronger. Fuck! I didn't want that scene to end, but like all good
things, one must tap when one must tap.
It was at the moment when Jerry stuck his head around the corner to announce the
beginning of the "script" reading. We had to break it up and join the others in
the "play" room.
"I'll catch you later," I said back at "Clark" as we exited the bathroom half
buttoned.
Jerry was the director, of course. He began by placing us around the pillowed
playroom, which served as a guest bedroom when the "theatre" was "dark."
"'Hands Christian Anderson'! You should be on the bed with 'Holland Tunnel',
insisted Jerry.
"I object," I said out of turn. "We all know that's typecasting. Everyone let
out a howl at that one — all except "Holland" of course.
"Be careful, Marcus, I was this close to giving you the only female role
tonight, ‘Prematura Ejaculata!’" Amid the second round of cackles, Jerry placed
himself in the center of the room and took charge.
"Now, boys, I haven't let you down before, have I? Just stick to the scripts and
your socks will be sticking to the floors in no time!"
We opened our "scripts" to page one of "The Cumpany Of Men." — A Play in Many
Acts. The scene was set in Jerry's playroom, convenient and farsighted since
none of us were likely very interested in moving any "scenery" around. Jerry
began by reading the "Greek Chorus." (Life is punny that way).
"Why is tonight different from all other nights? I have invited you here to
enjoy The Cumpany Of Men. Please turn the pages of your scripts to see with whom
you will share Cumpany tonight."
Jerry paused for the sound of pages turning all in unison. Then, each person
looked up to the object of their pleasurings for the evening. I looked down at
my page and saw a blank. I wondered if a page was missing from my "script". I
then looked up and discovered that the whole congregation — all twelve of them —
were looking in my direction. They were all smiling at me! I glanced up and
behind me to see the new blond hunk looking down lustily at me past his
"script," held close to his chest. I then turned to Jerry in disbelief.
"Happy Birthday, kid!" Jerry intoned lovingly. It was my 31st. The next thing I
knew, my "script" was taken away from me. The four guys sitting around me began
to unbutton my shirt and pull off my boots and wiggle me out of my jeans. I was
then led to the middle of the room and gently lowered onto one of Jerry's large
white furry animal skins. All the while, the rest of the group silently shed
their clothes off to the sides of the room.
The glow of the playing porno video cast its light psychedelically off bare
chests to my right, while haloing the kneeling nude bodies to my left. It seems
that Jerry was the only one with any lines at all in this script as he
continued.
'We are here to bring pleasure to you, Marcus. And by that fact, bring pleasure
to ourselves. Feel the touch of twenty four hands massaging you," he said — and
twenty four hands descended upon me to knead my sky-clad body.
"Free yourself to our loving touch. We will stroke you everywhere, upon every
inch of your being. We will make you feel as good as each of us would want to
feel if he were lying there in your place."
That last line must have triggered something primal in what only could be
described as a group mind. In place of twenty four massaging hands, my body was
now being bathed by a dozen probing tongues. Between the wet laps came slow,
passionate kisses, all causing currents of electricity to run up and down me. My
arms were raised above my head to expose my arm-pits to their willing
worshippers, while each of my nipples were being sucked at and chewed on by
disembodied mouths.
"We are explorers — frontiersmen — experimenting on the fringes of the new
sexual age," said Jerry to the fold. He then returned to the wonderful toe job
he was giving me. A warm mouth had my balls sucked inside of it, sloshing them
around back and forth, in and out. I began to lap and suck at the balls that
just happened to be hovering above my scrotum-loving sucker. They were the sweet
lollypops of the new blond hunk! I couldn't seem to get enough of his dangling
package and hairy inner thighs for the musky dessert that they were providing.
I had never felt the warmth of so many hands upon me, so many smiling faces
directed at me, so many naked men's bodies pressing against mine and attending
to me. I felt a great fraternal bond welling up within me, as well as hard dicks
in each of my groping hands. Pearly drops of pre-cum soon lubricated both dicks
that I pumped away at, while my own hard on felt the multiple passes of duet of
tongues gliding up and down its full length.
As long as no one played with my asshole I could keep this action going on
indefinitely. But just as I was thinking that, I felt the familiar softness of
grease being applied to my shy anus, and then the gentle insertion of one, two,
three fingers. Before long, that wonderful feeling was exchanged for the
insistent purring of a vibrating dildo, pulled up to my bumper of a prostate
gland. I came up for air just in time to halt the boiling juices in my groin
from becoming the "climax" of the play. I gently pushed aside the licking mouths
from around my groin and redirected the action of the scene slightly.
"Oh fuck, guys! You are really making me feel great. But I'm gonna cum any
second if we keep this up!"
"If it’s OK with all of you, I'd like to get everyone to stand around me in a
circle so that I can suck on each one of your balls!"
Without hesitation, and without comment from Jerry about any unplanned change of
script, the entire group formed up in a circle around me, left arms entwining
around adjacent shoulders and necks. I took charge of my own peter to control
the urge to spill my seed much more efficiently. I looked around me at the sight
before my eyes. Some of them were nestling into each other's necks while others
were concentrating their attentions on me, then alternately down on their own
throbbing cocks. And everyone was jerking off to the sounds of sliding palms and
fists against lubricated dicks.
I passed my mouth around generously to enjoy each manly midsection displayed
prominently with widely spread legs and jiggling ball sacks. Sometimes, I rooted
my face into the sides of their inner thighs just next to their balls and dicks,
the better to get a whiff of the varying essences of twelve hot men in heat. One
of them — a real daddy type — started to slap me across my face with his big,
rock hard dick, then stuffed my mouth with his balls, pushing them past my
straining jaws with his thick fingers.
I then heard throaty growls coming from behind me, signalling the beginning of
multiple body spasms to come. I felt the splashing of warm semen that hit my
shoulder twice, then ran dripping down my back, joining the sweat droplets
already forming there. The impulse to cum inside of my body was tripped
immediately. As I felt my volcanic juices racing around the tracks within my
balls and groin, two others, then another three, then all the rest of them
together shot their thick, white jets onto me. My back arched with orgasmic
punctuation as I watched through squinting eyes the hot circle of men all
cumming together on me. As I shot my own long distance load into the humid air,
I uttered through my teeth in a gravelly speech, "I'm ready for my close up, Mr.
DeMille!" Aghhhhhhhhhhh!
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