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CUM AGAIN, PHIL!

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by Ryan Macondray During spring break in my sophomore year at college I decided to go down to NYC, for my cousin had said I could use his apartment. When I walked along one of the avenues on this Saturday morning I saw the name of Phil N. in the window of an art gallery that featured an exhibition of his works. Seeing the name like that suddenly brought back that summer when I was thirteen and he had introduced me to the joys of masturbation. I felt the familiar surge of excitement and quickened heartbeat that the memory always seemed to bring about. I walked into the gallery which was completely empty at this early hour and looked around at my leisure. I recognized Phil's very characteristic painting style and wished I could afford to buy one of his works. Then, through the opened door to the gallery office, I saw Phil and my heart made a somersault. He was talking to what I assumed was the gallery owner. I listened to his familiar laugh. He looked very much the same - -if possible I found him even more attractive now- -he was still wearing levis and a shirt open at the neck and he now walked without crutches. I concentrated my attention on one of the paintings but watched the opened door to the office through the corner of my eye. After a while Phil came out alone, still saying a few words over his shoulder. He gave me a quick glance without recognition (of course! I was not a kid of thirteen any more). I plucked up my courage and said, "Hello, Phil!" He stopped and turned around and looked at me with a blank expression on his face. I laughed and said, "Glad you don't need those crutches any more." He looked even more nonplussed and I hurried to say, "You hopped around on crutches when I last saw you at home in Runford six years ago." You had been in that car accident and you rented the Mc Gregors' cottage for the summer. I'm Ryan." He broke out in a broad smile and shook my hand, "Well, I'll be... Little Ryan who was such a great helper to this invalid. I would never have recognized you. How old are you now? ... Nineteen. I'll be darned. How are your parents?" I assured him that everybody was fine. Then there was an awkward silence as if we were both thinking of the same thing. "I just happened to walk by and saw your name in the window," I said, "so I thought I'd see what you're doing these days." "Like it?" "Yeah, I think it's great stuff." "Thank you," he said without a trace of irony. And then he burst out laughing, "Well, who would have thought I'd see you here, Ryan. You must tell me what you are doing." So I gave him the inglorious details of my life. "Know what," he suddenly said, "let's go over and have a cup of coffee or something across the street. I was just going to do that on my own and here you come to brighten up my solitude." "OK," I said. While we were waiting for the green light, he looked me over, up and down, and said, " You're even taller than I am. You must be 6'2". Imagine, you were only a little kid then, and it isn't that long ago." "You look just the same," I said, "or rather, I remembered you as being older." "Oh, I guess kids at that age think anyone over thirty is old," he said. When we were sitting at the window table with our coffee cups between us, he suddenly turned to me. "You know, when you introduced yourself a while ago I suddenly panicked and thought, 'My God, he's come back to hold me accountable for ruining his life or to present me with the bills for six years worth of visits to the shrink. The seducer of youth, practically a child molester." He was mock serious, but there was a guarded look about him- -an uncertainty that he now somehow deferred to me to resolve. I suddenly felt marvelously grown up and in control of the situation and with a devilish urge to tease him or perhaps flirt with him. "Or don't you remember that day when you caught me in a rather embarrassing situation?" he said. "Of course I remember, But why embarrassing?" "Well, I'm not apologizing for what I was doing...shame who thinks evil and all that, but the thing is I'm not exactly in the habit of seducing minors. Here I was, let me see, 35 years old, and should have known better. But I was so restricted with those darn crutches and didn't get around at all and you were such a cute little bugger and I guess I was thinking of myself at that age... Let me tell you that the thought of that incident has given me a few very uncomfortable moments." There was a fairly long silence and then I said, "That's too bad. I love to think about it. And I often do..." His face brightened, "Really?" I nodded, "Sure. The only thing that makes ME cringe is to think what an unsatisfactory partner I must have been." "Really?" "Yeah." We sipped our coffee in silence. "And as far as seducing is concerned, Phil," I resumed, "sometimes I think I was the one who brought it about- -subconsciously, I mean, by wanting it without knowing it and that you somehow sensed that without knowing it...heck, I don't know what I'm trying to say." "No, no, " he hurried to say, "I know exactly what you're trying to say and it makes me feel very good indeed; I must admit that one part of me was really turned on by the whole thing, for all its wickedness." "Come on, Phil, you don't really think it was wicked," I said. "Well, maybe not. Anyway, it's past history and you've grown out of those adolescent habits and..." "Why do you think I've grown out of them?" I said rather defiantly, "you hadn't grown out of anything six years ago and you were much older then than I am now..." "Well, well, well," he laughed, "so you have NOT grown out of them...?" "Have YOU?" I shot back rather heatedly, for I didn't like his mocking tone. "Of course not," he said, "I was hooked long before that incident, as you could tell." "Well, so was I," I said, and we both burst out laughing. "An addicted novice, eh?" he laughed. We all are at that age, so that doesn't mean a thing." "Well, I want you to know," I said, "that I'm very grateful to you, believe it or not, for you were very kind and treated me like an equal and made me feel very good. Since then I've wished many times that I had at least been a bit more mature and...you gave me a great demonstration and showed me what to expect and it was great when it did happen and I really wished I could have shown YOU..." Phil was serious now and looked at me in silence. "I'm glad you think so. I know that I was acting in a rather perverse way, but it did give me a real turn on and it has continued to do so on many solitary occasions." "Really?" I said more eagerly than I had intended. "As for me, I've relived that episode I can't tell you how often." We had hardly touched our coffee and now we took a sip and then Phil said, " So you HAVE stayed in practice?" "Sure have," I said , "haven't you?" "Did you expect me to rest on my laurels after that stellar performance six years ago? Oh no, there are certain things in life that keep their appeal..." And then after another brief silence, "You know what, this may be a golden opportunity for you to show me how well you learned your lesson... I live just a few blocks from here." "Great," I said, "I promise you there's more to show than six years ago." "Ah, but you were so cute and so serious..." "...and so excited," I added. "And Phil, I hope you're willing to give a refresher course." "Naturally," he said and he laughed his contagious laugh." "Damn you, little Ryan, here I sit getting a roaring hard on!" "Same here, Phil. Let's go. I can't wait." He laughed, " And here I thought you'd come to claim your pound of flesh," he said. "Only to lay my hands on a piece of meat other than my own for a change," I said. In his apartment we sat down on his living room couch and I asked him to stretch out while I sat down on the edge of the couch. "Any magazines?" I asked. "In the bottom drawer of the bedroom dresser- -I usually jack off in my bedroom," he said. "I don't think we'll need any, I said laughing. "I was just kidding. Wow man, this is just like that time..." "Not quite, my friend, "he said. "You're right ," I said, "you wore a denim shirt and you have a white shirt on today." "And you are NOT thirteen, Ryan." I felt his hand on my crotch and reached mine over to his. With his left hand Phil unzipped my pants and extracted my cock which sprang out of its confinement on its own. ""You HAVE grown, little Ryan, " he said appreciatively, " quite a handful and eminently jackable..." He pulled down his own levis and began stroking his cock. "I remember how you rubbed my little prick with a couple of fingers only - -no, not with your whole fist like that ...and I 'll never forget what it felt like to touch and handle this beautiful fat cock of yours. And then you asked me to pretend you were not there for you would like to watch me and show me how you were doing it..." "Sounds just like me, " Phil said and continued, "Here I am with my levis down and already working away, You'd better do your bit, young man, and stop reminiscing. I stood up and let my pants and briefs down and he gave a little whistle as I wrapped my hand around its familiar hold. "Beautiful," he said. Nice golden brown hair and shapely balls, and you really know how to wield that tool of yours." "My teacher was the very best," I grinned back. After a while our bantering stopped and there was a charged silence as we each watched the other stroke his cock and then after a while he asked, "how are you doing, man?" " I'll let you call the shots this time. Phil." "OK,, but I hate to bring this to a close too soon." "Me too," I whispered, "although heaven knows I could get there very easily just watching you again, just the way I've pictured it to myself when I jack off. Now you must open your shirt as you did then. As for myself, I'm afraid I won't be able to follow the old scenario without making a mess on your couch," "Maybe I can talk you into standing up and letting it fall on me, he said while he bared his hairy front side. "Your wish is my command... or, your command is my wish..." I said. He was working on his cock in even and steady strokes and I watched with fascination how the head of his cock kept slipping in and out of its hood. He in turn was watching my busy hand. "I guess I WAS a good teacher," he said with a grin." As the session began to ripen and we were jogging closer to the finish line, I was getting frantically excited. "Yes, master masturbator, a very good teacher, I love watching you." " Uh hmm, you bet, little Ryan, and it's a real man-cock you're holding in your hand now,,,Don't you just love to jack off?" "Absolutely crazy about it, Phil, and doing it with you again is, well, my hottest fantasy come true..." "Same here, Ryan, same here... and you know, I'm getting very close here..." "Remember you said 'when it begins to feel real good' and I was so excited that you knew about that too and,,, ahh, I've jacked off so many times thinking about you, Phil, and your great cock and here we are.... I'm getting there, so just let me know..." "Alright, buddy," he whispered through his teeth, "let's go then!" I loved the sight of his bouncing balls; he widened his knees even further but kept his eyes glued to my cock and hand. I had now stood up on my feet and moved two short steps in an ungainly fashion with my trousers around my ankles and my white jockeys stuck around my knees. I held my cock horizontally over him. His right hand slowed down to milking strokes and then held the throbbing shaft like a steed in tight reins. He whispered hoarsely, "Ahh, give it to me, baby, give it to me." And while i felt myself caught in that excruciating spiral of ineffable sensations, I watched his cock fling a rapid series of rich cum that streaked his hairy front. After his first spurt my own cock shot a great salvo and our loads mingled profusely in syncopated pulsings, and were caught in his dense mat of hair, while we both uttered groans and moans of intense wellbeing that ended in little convulsive shudders as the sensations abated in ripples and left us empty, yet replete.

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