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My mother found our 'Rules of Sex', Nigel announced.
That would have explained how the normal frosty welcome I received had turned postively glacial. I thought you binned it?
Yeah, but she looked through the bin.
That too wasn't out of character. But personally I'd have ripped the evidence into tiny pieces and flushed it away. A bit like my last attempt to turn him into a wank buddy.
She says people who do things like that become sex pests and turn into rapists.
Do you feel rapey? I ask, more than a little irritated this neurotic woman was coming between me and his cock. No pun intended.
He shrugged. That's what she said.
Yes, but when you wank off at night thinking of your blonde neighbour's big tits you're not fantasising about hurting her?
No... But the mention of his sex interest has perked him up a bit.
I persevere: There's nothing wrong with you rubbing your big cock and spunking up thinking of her. It's a compliment really.
This was the tail end of the eighties. I'd not get away with that line now.
He liked the 'big' part. A hand absent-mindedly drops to his crotch.
I'd like to see your cock again, I said, see how it compares to mine.
He's not sure. Either not in the mood or he's worred about what the harridan said to him.
Just a quick look? Please?
He nods eventually, and unbuttons the front of his shirt. This is the first time since the changing rooms I've seen his body. It still bears the influence of puppy fat but not too much. It's very smooth, lightly tanned, with a small line of fluffy hairs leading up to his navel. His nipples are big, brown and curved like contact lenses. I have the sudden urge to rub them and see if they become erect.
His cock is standing up straight but covered by a corner of his shirt. I lift it way and ask: May I?
Another nod but not enthusiastic.
I wrap my hand around his shaft, careful not to pull back on his phimotic foreskin. It's very warm but not exactly rock hard. A bit like solid rubber.
Get yours out.
I do but by the time I've done so he's moved away from the sofa and is standing in front of me. Part of me wonders if I could get away with sucking him without asking. I just want to get rid of his shirt and trousers and run my lips and tongue all over him.
He's still not fully hard. Or maybe he is. He's certainly not as hard as M gets.
Somewhat reluctantly he reciprocates and reaches out to touch my cock, fingers sliding over the tip of my foreskin and slipping it back. A huge gloop of viscous precum erupts all over his knuckles. I'd forgotten how much my skin can hold.
Eww. Yuck! He pulls back sharply. What is that?
Precum, I say miffed. Stupid sod ought to have taken it for a compliment but it confirmed my suspicion he'd never come across it before.
Wash it off, he commands.
By the time I come back from the bathroom his stiffy has gone completely limp. It's still pretty sexy.
I don't want to do this any more, he says, letting me watch as his cock vanishes for the last time behind an iron zip.