/>I opened my legs wider and started rubbing the underside of my balls, running my fingers along the hairy ridge connecting my balls with my arsehole. Peter looked over at me, first at what I was doing, and then up to my face. Our eyes met again and he grinned broadly at me, as though the novelty of exploring masturbatory pleasures alongside another guy had just struck him. I found myself grinning back at him; both of us amused at what we were doing, like we were a couple of naughty schoolboys. Then our gazes returned to each other’s cocks and balls, and at our hands playing with them.

Peter cupped his balls with his left hand and squeezed them. He obviously liked that sensation because he gasped and his right hand further increased its pace up and down his cock. He looked down at himself and squeezed the base of his balls between his fingers and thumb so that they bulged upwards against the taut skin of his scrotum, looking like two pink eggs amidst his thick bush of pubic hair. Abruptly, white gobs of his semen started pulsing out of his cock head, spraying across his stomach and chest, covering the black curly hair with beads and strings of his cum.

He kept frantically pumping his cock even as his orgasm subsided, and kept squeezing his balls, making no attempt to reach for his underpants to quell the flow. Then, as abruptly as his climax had started, he stopped wanking and took both hands away from his cock and balls, and lay back on his pillow with his eyes closed. I looked over at him like that, covered contently in the mess of his own pleasure, his cum dripping through the thick wiry hair on his chest and stomach, his cock still thick but resting floppily against his lower abdomen, and felt my own orgasm overtake me.

As my own white jets spewed from my cock, I saw Peter looking over at me out of the corner of my eye. Like him, I made no attempt to catch my mess: I just let it spray across my chest and stomach as he had done, reveling in the feel of it on my skin.

Then, as I lay there recovering, he stood up and started wiping the cum from his chest hair with his briefs. His cock stood out from his body, pointing downwards but still half-erect, with a drip of cum hanging from the end of it. His large balls hung down below it, looking impressive even without his fist squeezing them.

As he finished off cleaning himself up, wiping the sweat from his arse crack with his underpants, I stood up to reach for my briefs. My own cock was still almost fully hard and it arched upwards, the stem showing faint pink and white bands from the squeezing of my fingers. I wiped my own cum from my chest and we looked at each other again. This time I grinned first and he followed suit. Neither of us was self-conscious about the state of our cocks in front of each other, and that in itself felt pretty good. We hardly knew each other, but we had an unspoken agreement that this was okay, that this was pretty good actually, and that was unexpectedly pleasant.

He said, "I'll make us some coffee. You want to