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My petite wife finally indulges in my cuckold nylon fetish.

Steven had been stupid enough not to have locked his door.

John approached each of us later, separately. I don't know how he handled Steven but with me he was smooth and confident. I still don't know exactly how he got us each to agree. It wasn't precisely blackmail, not explicitly, but he had steered the talk to masturbation, how all guys - everywhere in the world - did it, how good it felt to ejaculate, what you thought about while stroking your penis, various techniques, on and on. He sounded like a masturbation encyclopedia, and had a silky-smooth salesman's manner, patient and encouraging.

Before I knew it, I was set to have a contest with Steven, just a "friendly" he called it. I thought it was just going to be for John's benefit, but now it turned out was a bunch of other guys John had spilled the story to, all gathered together in the room.

Of course there were "criteria" and John explained the deal with exaggerated detail to Steven and me once our cocks were deemed "hard" enough.

Once it started, each competitor had to keep at least one hand on his cock, moving, at all times or he would be declared the "loser." We each were allowed one "warning" on this. Winning would be judged on two parts: longer amount of time stroking before orgasm got points, also "explosiveness" of the climax. When I pressed for clarity on the last item, John just waved his hand and said his boys had a "system." There was a "scoring rubric." I bet so. Fuck that.

And then! And then it turned out the "loser" would have to give John a handjob! Stroke him to completion. In front of the crowd!

Rather heatedly I said this didn't sound like a "friendly" to me, but at that point the guys had already seen my penis out and watched me stroke it. I could have bailed, but I figured, probably accurately at that point, that the fall-out then would have been even worse. Steven and I had unwittingly painted ourselves into a pretty good corner.

I can't really describe my mental state at that point. Angry. Stuck. Wanting to be anywhere else. Maybe resigned. But my penis was hard and I had stroked myself well enough to have produced some pleasure down there. And there was at least a fifty-fifty chance that I would emerge as the "winner." And, of course, I would also have achieved an orgasm.

I looked down. My penis was hard. My circumcised cockhead aroused. My balls drawn up. I swallowed hard.

John, eyebrows arched expectantly, looked at each of us evenly.


We nodded.

At the signal we began slowly. Of course slowly. We kept sneaking looks at each other, trying to delay our own arousal. I slid my fingers lightly along my shaft, avoiding the head, the most sensitive areas. But even this wasn't enough to keep my penis from enjoying the contact.

The fact that we were "on show" turned out not to be a deterrent, either. Having a whole set of eyes on my prick almost seemed to urge it on.

So my fingers slid along, my penis growing more and more excited. Steven's tool had gotten harder. Two damn stiff cocks, heading towards their ultimate goal.

Now of course, you cannot keep stoking your dick forever. Especially when you are aroused. Especially when your dick is already hard, and your balls are all pulled up and the pressure is getting intense, and in fact it all feels damn good.

I had slowed my stroking just long enough once to earn a warning from Ron, the fussy little shit.

"Keep it moving," his eyes glaring at me.

Steven had almost gotten one too, Roger had opened his mouth as if to issue a warning, but Steven managed to pick up tempo quickly enough to get off.

All too soon, between glances out of the corner of my eye at Steven, whose own cock had gotten harder and harder, pointing more and more skywards, I felt my penis enter the edge of that "no return" zone.

Alright, I said to myself, I'll show these guys a decent sperm eruption.

I had starting leaking some fluid, and it happens I produce a lot.

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