A Ball In The Hand Is Worth Two In The Bush

“Sorry” he muttered apologetically, “my balls are pretty small.” 

I knew this to be true, as my hand had already found them beneath the skimpy towel he continued to wear in the steam-room.

“Your balls are beautiful” I responded sincerely, giving them another squeeze, enjoying their tight, compact fleshiness.

“I wish they were larger sometimes” he continued, as if my compliment had dissolved into the swirling steam, unheard. 

Looking him in the eye and pulling on his balls even harder, so that there could be no misunderstanding, I repeated that they were beautiful, and kissed him on the lips.

“I haven’t actually seen your balls yet” I said, once our kiss had ended, “but I know for a fact that they are beautiful, and the perfect size.”

He chuckled this time, his shy smile turning into something more confident. My hand still held his warm sack, my fingers gently kneading its contents, his sweaty scrotum like velvet in my fingers.

My cock, on full display, had already stiffened as if to demonstrate my sincerity. His towel twitched noticeably as his own hidden manhood responded to my attentions. I let my fingers slowly follow the hardness of his shaft to his wet piss-slit, squeezing silky juice from its lips.

“Perhaps you’d let me see those beautiful balls of yours somewhere a bit more private” I suggested, kissing him again to shore up his confidence.

“Okay” he whispered back, handing me control of the situation.

I stood up, taking the towel I’d been sitting on and throwing it over my shoulder, my erect cock in front of his face showing the seriousness of my desire. He stood up too, his towel tenting out in front as he tried unsuccessfully to disguise his hardness. I laughed and took his hand, leading him into the corridor and down towards the private cubicles.

Once inside he closed the door behind us, nervously, as if he’d never been in this situation before. Maybe he hadn’t, despite being not much younger than me, if his classic “Dad” looks were anything to go by. Solid build, hairy body, beginnings of a slight paunch, handsome lived-in face; somewhat wide-eyed at the moment, as if he might bolt. 

“It’s okay” I reassured him, “we can take it as slowly as you like, even just a chat if that suits you better.” I was hoping it didn’t. 

He answered by moving in closer, taking hold of my dick in one hand while cupping my heavy balls in the other, tentatively at first but with increasing pressure as a low moan escaped my lips.

“That feels really good” I sighed encouragingly, and it did. He was sliding my foreskin back and forth over my knob, staring down at it all the while, as if entranced.

“I love foreskin” he murmured, not taking his eyes off it for even a second. “I wish I still had mine.” 

Time to move.

I reached over and took hold of his towel, gently pulling it away and letting it drop to the floor. He almost managed to look embarrassed, even while pulling on my cock and fondling my balls. I swear, if his hands had been free I bet he would have instinctively tried to cover himself.

I looked down and let a smile spread across my face. His dick was a masterpiece, bigger than mine and hard as an iron rod, the bulbous head purple and swollen as if ready to burst. A thick vein ran down the side of the shaft, pulsating with blood and spunk, disappearing into a forest of thick dark pubes. His balls, small and tight, were as beautiful as I’d guessed, covered in a tangle of hair that had never seen a pair of clippers. Virgin forest for sure.

“Like I said, beautiful!” I wrapped my hand around his thick warm pole and made a point of cradling his lovely balls in my palm, massaging them gently like the delicate things they were. “You’re very beautiful” I repeated, and he knew that I meant it as I sank to my knees in front of him.

His tumescence gave off a powerful odour, pungent and sharp and very erotic. I leaned in close and inhaled deeply, savouring his musk and the sight of his ragged and dark circumcision scar, inflamed against the white flesh of his skin. I licked, ever so gently, the taut cord of his frenulum and a shudder went through his entire body as if he’d received an electric charge.

He placed his hands on my head (to steady himself) which I took as my cue to continue, knowing full well that his orgasm would be fast and momentous. Which it was.

No sooner had I wrapped my lips around his leaking knob than I could feel and taste his sweet spunk begin to flow from his slit. A steady stream at first which quickly turned to almost violent jerks as he lost control and fucked my mouth, spurting great gobs into the back of my throat.

I gripped his hips firmly, feeling his spasms as they coursed through his frame, my cheeks filling with his spunk. His balls tightened even more as his thick cream emptied into my mouth, impossible to swallow it all, try as I might. I felt it dribble down my chin and nestle in my chest hair, a happy compromise.

The thickness of his cock stretched my lips wide, and as I felt his jerks begin to lessen I let it slide almost fully out, stopping at his mushroom head which I sucked and tongued with greedy intensity. I tasted more sweetness as it dribbled out, probing his slit with the tip of my tongue, forcing him to buck and spasm as his exhausted crown became exquisitely tender. 

Finally letting his dick slip from my mouth, it softened and became limp in front of my eyes, a thin trail of cum hanging from the tip which I watched as if enchanted, before catching it on my tongue and rolling it over my lips. 

I kissed the dark scar, following it around the circumference of his shaft before leaning further in and kissing his small and perfect balls.