The Madison Technique

When he'd managed to pull his briefs free from his left foot, he tried to do the same with the other side. Because his right foot was near my head, though, he found it difficult to get them over his ankle without kicking me in the face. In the end, he had to just try and kick them off as best he could. After a few attempts, they came free of his ankle and flopped straight onto my pillow, right in front of my nose.

I don't think he saw where they'd landed - he just assumed they'd fallen onto his own pillow, because he left them there and began busying himself with pulling his teeshirt off in the cramped space. Their strongly masculine, musky smell hit me immediately - I guess the gusset at the front where his cock had spent the day must have landed right under my nose. It smelt partly of sweat and a little of piss, but most strongly of a sharper, more sexual smell: I assumed it must be that of his precum which must have, if the previous morning had been anything to go by, oozed copiously from his cock every time he'd sprouted a hard-on. big cocks must spring big leaks.

The smell wasn't unpleasant: on the contrary, my cock lengthened rapidly in response to it. Male smells aren't usually my thing, but the fact it was the smell of a cock I'd seen getting sucked by its owner that morning coupled with the anticipation of seeing a repeat showing, made things develop at an impressive rate inside my sleeping bag.

When he'd finished pulling off his teeshirt, I glanced back up at him, wondering what he was planning to do. I suppose, since he was on all fours facing the tent door, I still half-expected him to unzip the front and go outside for something.

But then, still with the strong smell of his cock smothering me, I saw what he was doing.

He was bending to his push his head underneath himself, straining his neck and his back to force his mouth towards his crotch. It was a slow journey: he kept having to stay still for a few seconds, allowing himself the chance to recover enough to proceed. His face was bright purple and his back looked impossibly bowed.

I wondered if it could really be worth so much effort. But then he reached up for his cock which must have been pressing upwards against his stomach and pulled it down towards his face with his right hand. And that told me it definitely must be worth it. Despite his discomfort, despite his position, his cock looked enormous and throbbed at full size in anticipation of what was to come. It seemed even longer, thicker and stiffer than it had on the previous morning. The veins along the stem were fatter and more clearly defined. I guess this must have been his favourite position.

A gelatinous gob of precum hung in a string from the engorged purple head of it. That seemed to drive his mouth the last inch or so and he hungrily licked it from the end to stop it from falling, wasted, onto the sleeping bag beneath him. He eagerly lapped it up and then swirled his tongue around the rest of his bell end. He couldn't stop a gentle satisfied gasp from escaping his lips as he savoured the taste of another day and night's juices on the head of his cock.

It occurred to me that if the taste was as powerful as the smell on his briefs, his appreciation of it was fairly understandable. I was getting off on the smell without even touching myself!

He opened his legs wider, moving his knees as far apart as he could in the narrow space, and directed his cock downwards to get the first couple of inches of it into his mouth. I noticed that his arse cleft was so widely spread that his small red puckered hole was visible in the valley of it. As he strained to thrust more of his cock into his mouth, his bum cheeks flexed and his little red hole opened a couple of millimetres.

I realised that I was probably seeing Madison on a more intimate and personal level than anyone ever had. That's one of the great things about camping trips, I guess - you get to see other guys in many interesting new ways!

Madison opened his mouth as wide as he could and then began fucking it slowly with his large, swollen cock. At first he moved his head around a little as he thrust in and out, adjusting himself so that his mouth was at the right position to receive the angle and curvature of his cock. Then, when he was comfortable, he kept his head still and started really hammering his cock into himself, his hips flexing and relaxing as he thrust inward and withdraw it in rapid succession.

He seemed to have his eyes half-open, dimly watching his large ball-sac bobbing up and down just a few inches above his face. But then, as his pleasure increased, he closed them, and just lay there, his mouth wide open and his cheeks bright red, slamming his cock home like with a gradually accelerating rhythm.

I wondered what he was thinking of; which aspect of what he was doing to himself he enjoyed most. Was it the sensation of sliding his dick into something warm and wet; the fantasy that he was fucking a girl's pussy or - if he swung the other a way - a guy's arse? Or was he getting off more on the experience of having his own cock fucking his mouth? Even though I wasn't too keen on having another guys' dick in my mouth back then, the thought of tasting and sucking on my own seemed totally intriguing.

He stopped momentarily to adjust his knees which were slipping apart on his crumpled sleeping bag and as he did so I heard the sounds of his mouth sucking furiously on his cock like it was a lollipop. Then he started up again and began fucking his face even faster than he had before. The slurping noises from his lips drowned out the sucking sounds from inside his mouth.

I decided to be bold: after all, this was our last night bunking up together and I had little to lose by letting him know that I was awake.

So I shifted position, knocking his briefs to one side, and unzipped my sleeping bag.

Madison stopped what he was doing immediately and stayed rigid in his bent position, no doubt wondering what I was going to do.

I revealed my cock, already pulled out from my briefs during intermittent fumblings in the night, and started masturbating.

When he didn't move, I said, casually, "I need a wank too. You don't mind, do you?"

He pulled himself up a little so that his cock slid out of his mouth, hanging heavily downward, and grunted, "No."

I opened my legs, grabbed my balls with my left hand, and kept wanking myself.

After a few seconds he said, "You won't... like... tell anyone, will you?"

I shrugged. "What's the big deal? You've got your technique; I've got mine."

He nodded.

Then I grinned and added, "And if I could do it your way, you think I'd be settling for this...?"

Even though he was looking up at his own balls, I saw him smile.

He said, "That's what I figure... isn't that what the ad says... 'Why have cotton when you can have silk'?"

I nodded and smiled at him, wondering whether or not he could see my face. "Go for it, mate... your secret's safe..."

And then I lay next to him, masturbating myself with my hand while watching Madison do it his own superior way.

He didn't feast on his own gusher of semen that second morning as he had on the first. I guess he knew it might be classed as 'weird' by other guys and so he finished himself off with his hand when felt himself getting close. His cock squirted jets of cum over his chin and cheeks but he kept his mouth firmly closed.

I felt a momentarily disappointed but the sight of his arsehole, clenching and opening as his orgasm hit home, rapidly brought my own climax to a head.

*****

I kept Madison's secret up until I left school. I didn't keep many secrets but I kept that one.

During the next year, while I was in the upper sixth, a guy called Anderson admitted in a game of truth or dare that he liked wanking with his cock inside a water melon. His admission started off a run of stories about the weird ways that we'd seen or heard of other guys masturbating. It was late and I was pissed so I almost coughed up the story of Madison's technique.

But I remembered my promise and held back again.

Now it's too long ago to matter and, even if it isn't, there's no way anyone reading this will recognise the guy Madison is based on.

Except Madison himself.

And if he does, would he please answer a question that regularly bugs me: do you still do it that way?