Jizz Manor – Part 1
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John hasn’t been back to town for a long time, but a necessary visit leads him past the old derelict house colloquially known as Jizz Manor. Back in the day it was a favoured haunt of local guys seeking the simple pleasures of masculine manhood to stroke and splash from, leading to the horniest adventures he’d ever had and setting him on his bator lifestyle. Now, back in town for his brief visit, he finds that the crumbling old place is for sale. Spurred on by the suddenly swollen meat in his trousers, the professional businessman arranges a viewing, initially hoping just to spark those memories and perhaps unload within those walls once more, for posterity’s sake. How far will John go to remember – and relive – the pleasures he’d discovered as a hung and horny nineteen-year-old?
Excerpt from Jizz Manor – Part 1
It had been almost thirty years since I’d first walked in there with my best friend, sneaking in from the canal path, climbing the little hill and discovering the bizarre party happening inside its walls. That was the first time, as a nineteen-year-old burgeoning bator, that I’d even seen another hard cock in real life. I’d seen the occasional friend with a semi hard penis heavily swinging in the changing rooms or showers, and I’d seen stiff cocks in magazines, but that was the limit of my experience with other penises in anything but an innocent floppy state.
That was the first time I’d seen James’ dick, too.
He had a perfect penis, if that’s possible, and the first time I saw it he was as stiff as could be. My cock points up proudly and thick, but his was absolutely rigid, almost standing against his stomach, his balls a plump mass of pink fleshy sack, taut but creased. I remember looking at it with surprise, staring at the tunnel of pink foreskin moving while another man slipped it back from his gooey red tip. I was as surprised by his brazenness as I was by his super-stiff penis. I’d never known him to be so sexual, at least not beyond him bragging about fingering his girlfriend.
Equally surprising was the fact that he was so easy about sharing that cock with another man, allowing the stranger to play with it. And, of course, I was fascinated by the whole thing.
His wasn’t a big cock, maybe six inches in length, but it was perfectly shaped, so rock hard with a bulging length of muscle on the underside leading from the tight sack to his tip, the helmet fat and leaking while the older man cupped his compact balls and then slipped his fingers upward to wrap his hand around the steely dick.
Perhaps most importantly, it was the first time I’d ever had another man’s hand pulling the load from my stiffened shaft.
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