What I wish had happened:
At a pause in our conversation, after I spun-dry my Speedos, I stood there with my towel in one hand and Speedos in the other and decided to jump in with both feet.
"Hey man, good for you!"
He frowned a bit, puzzled, not sure what I meant.
"Glad you're showing how we're similar. When we first met, you didn't want to display it, but now you are. Good for you!"
Those perfect cheekbones flushed a little, and he glanced to his side where his friend was sitting leaning against the tiled wall, his eyes closed.
"Yeah, well . . . thanks for showing me it's okay to be different."
"You're welcome." I grinned. "Actually, I wish I was . . . built more like you."
His hands went to his hips. "What do you mean?"
"I wish my skin was longer. Like yours."
He looked down. "It still doesn't cover the whole head. My father's does."
"That's okay. It looks good!"
"Thanks," a little sheepishly. He looked over at my crotch. "I wish I had your big head. Is that why your skin doesn't cover it completely?"
"I was born with a short skin. This is the result of years of pulling it forward and back." I waggled my eyebrows up and down, suggestively, and grinned again.
He smiled. "I hear you."
He paused, looking down at the floor, then back into my eyes. "It's just really nice to see someone else . . . like me."
"Same here. We're pretty rare!"
"Yeah." He sighed. "I sure as hell thought I'd never see another guy our age like us . . . . One question: How'd you develop the balls to just let it all hang out?"
I thought for a moment. "I don't know. I have three older brothers, a mother who's a nurse, and a father who's a librarian. We never hurried when we went from the bathroom to our bedrooms to dress, holding our towels in one hand. I've seen everyone in my family naked, and it's no big deal. Also, I've been a Boy Scout and in various swimming pool locker rooms for years."
"Are your brothers or father . . . like you?"
"No. And before you ask"--I saw the question rising in his eyes--"I don't know why. The only time I asked, my mother told me that when I was born, everything pulled back so she didn't see the need to get me cut. But I'm the only one in my immediate family who's like us."
"Huh."
"Yeah. One time I was worried that I would be different, my mother told me that her brothers, my uncles, were uncut like me. That made me feel better. And then I saw lots of pictures of classical Greek and Roman statues in my dad's encyclopedias and art books, and all of those guys were uncut, so I didn't feel quite so weird . . . different . . . unusual."
I took a breath. "But I also learned that being different from the norm doesn't necessarily mean that you're abnormal. I mean, there are other guys like us, and it's how we're all born, so . . . I've learned to deal with other guys' stares and questions."
His head jerked up, his eyes meeting mine. "Other guys have asked you about yours??" He sounded really shocked.
I had to chuckle a little. "Yeah. After they look a bit, some want to talk." I paused, not sure how he'd respond. "And some want to touch."
"Really??" His eyes were practically popping out of his skull.
"Well, yeah." I kept my tone nonchalant. "They want to know how it feels, so they ask to pull the skin back and forth. Sometimes I let them."
"You do??"
"Yeah, sure." I shrugged. "They don't have any other chance to see what it feels like, and other uncut guys might be really offended to be asked, so I just smile and say 'okay.'"
"Wow." He shook his head like a bull, stunned by the possibility that another man's curiosity might induce him to ask to reach out and feel how the skin glides along the shaft.
Then a thought obviously struck him. "So . . . if I wanted to . . . find out how a different one feels . . . "
"Sure," I said cheerfully. "I'd let you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He took a step or two over to where I stood and then reached out a hand that only trembled a bit. With all that talk, I'd become nearly fully erect, and my skin was nearly fully back, exposing the mushroom head of my cock.
His fingers encircled the shaft right behind the head, gently and then more firmly. He looked up, found my eyes, and grinned a little nervously. "It's thick as hell. And hot. And"--he pulled the skin forward a bit--"a little different from mine."
I made it pulse in his hand.
"Damn," he said. "You're thicker than I am."
His cock was nearly fully erect too--and not small, either, though he was right: his wasn't quite as thick as mine.
"May I?" I asked, nodding to where his cock was throbbing with every heartbeat into a full erection.
"Yeah . . . I guess."
"Okay."
I encircled his shaft with my fingers, pulling his foreskin slowly but smoothly back and then forward again. As I pulled it forward, he gasped slightly.
"That's what I do when I . . . "
"I know," I smiled. "I've got one too."
"Damn," he said again, astonished that it could be like this between two men experimenting a bit.
He pulled my skin forward and back again, mimicking my hand on his cockshaft. "It's different, but it's still a helluva feeling."
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
He took his hand off my now-fully-erect cock. "Hey . . . this is cool as hell. Thanks."
I saw his mood changing slightly. He was straight, and this had gone as far as it was going to go. That was okay with me--he'd had his hand around another uncut guy's hard cock, and that other guy had had his hand around his hard cock, so he now knew what it felt like to check out another guy's foreskin.
So I didn't push. Instead, I took my hand off his hard cock and said, "You're welcome. Glad I could let you have a rare experience."
"Yeah," he said, sounding relieved that I understood he didn't want to go any farther. "You're the first guy I've seen who was my age and uncut like me."
I grinned into his now-smiling face. "And I'm sure I won't be the last. Lots of guys here are from Russia, Germany, and other places! And some are like us--born here but"--my grin widened--"unusual."
He laughed, appreciating my word choice.
Still hard, still naked, he reached out his hand and shook mine. "Thanks, man. Much appreciated."
"Absolutely. Take care, and I'll see you around."
And he went back to his locker to put on his Speedos while I headed to mine to dress and get ready for my next class.
At a pause in our conversation, after I spun-dry my Speedos, I stood there with my towel in one hand and Speedos in the other and decided to jump in with both feet.
"Hey man, good for you!"
He frowned a bit, puzzled, not sure what I meant.
"Glad you're showing how we're similar. When we first met, you didn't want to display it, but now you are. Good for you!"
Those perfect cheekbones flushed a little, and he glanced to his side where his friend was sitting leaning against the tiled wall, his eyes closed.
"Yeah, well . . . thanks for showing me it's okay to be different."
"You're welcome." I grinned. "Actually, I wish I was . . . built more like you."
His hands went to his hips. "What do you mean?"
"I wish my skin was longer. Like yours."
He looked down. "It still doesn't cover the whole head. My father's does."
"That's okay. It looks good!"
"Thanks," a little sheepishly. He looked over at my crotch. "I wish I had your big head. Is that why your skin doesn't cover it completely?"
"I was born with a short skin. This is the result of years of pulling it forward and back." I waggled my eyebrows up and down, suggestively, and grinned again.
He smiled. "I hear you."
He paused, looking down at the floor, then back into my eyes. "It's just really nice to see someone else . . . like me."
"Same here. We're pretty rare!"
"Yeah." He sighed. "I sure as hell thought I'd never see another guy our age like us . . . . One question: How'd you develop the balls to just let it all hang out?"
I thought for a moment. "I don't know. I have three older brothers, a mother who's a nurse, and a father who's a librarian. We never hurried when we went from the bathroom to our bedrooms to dress, holding our towels in one hand. I've seen everyone in my family naked, and it's no big deal. Also, I've been a Boy Scout and in various swimming pool locker rooms for years."
"Are your brothers or father . . . like you?"
"No. And before you ask"--I saw the question rising in his eyes--"I don't know why. The only time I asked, my mother told me that when I was born, everything pulled back so she didn't see the need to get me cut. But I'm the only one in my immediate family who's like us."
"Huh."
"Yeah. One time I was worried that I would be different, my mother told me that her brothers, my uncles, were uncut like me. That made me feel better. And then I saw lots of pictures of classical Greek and Roman statues in my dad's encyclopedias and art books, and all of those guys were uncut, so I didn't feel quite so weird . . . different . . . unusual."
I took a breath. "But I also learned that being different from the norm doesn't necessarily mean that you're abnormal. I mean, there are other guys like us, and it's how we're all born, so . . . I've learned to deal with other guys' stares and questions."
His head jerked up, his eyes meeting mine. "Other guys have asked you about yours??" He sounded really shocked.
I had to chuckle a little. "Yeah. After they look a bit, some want to talk." I paused, not sure how he'd respond. "And some want to touch."
"Really??" His eyes were practically popping out of his skull.
"Well, yeah." I kept my tone nonchalant. "They want to know how it feels, so they ask to pull the skin back and forth. Sometimes I let them."
"You do??"
"Yeah, sure." I shrugged. "They don't have any other chance to see what it feels like, and other uncut guys might be really offended to be asked, so I just smile and say 'okay.'"
"Wow." He shook his head like a bull, stunned by the possibility that another man's curiosity might induce him to ask to reach out and feel how the skin glides along the shaft.
Then a thought obviously struck him. "So . . . if I wanted to . . . find out how a different one feels . . . "
"Sure," I said cheerfully. "I'd let you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He took a step or two over to where I stood and then reached out a hand that only trembled a bit. With all that talk, I'd become nearly fully erect, and my skin was nearly fully back, exposing the mushroom head of my cock.
His fingers encircled the shaft right behind the head, gently and then more firmly. He looked up, found my eyes, and grinned a little nervously. "It's thick as hell. And hot. And"--he pulled the skin forward a bit--"a little different from mine."
I made it pulse in his hand.
"Damn," he said. "You're thicker than I am."
His cock was nearly fully erect too--and not small, either, though he was right: his wasn't quite as thick as mine.
"May I?" I asked, nodding to where his cock was throbbing with every heartbeat into a full erection.
"Yeah . . . I guess."
"Okay."
I encircled his shaft with my fingers, pulling his foreskin slowly but smoothly back and then forward again. As I pulled it forward, he gasped slightly.
"That's what I do when I . . . "
"I know," I smiled. "I've got one too."
"Damn," he said again, astonished that it could be like this between two men experimenting a bit.
He pulled my skin forward and back again, mimicking my hand on his cockshaft. "It's different, but it's still a helluva feeling."
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
He took his hand off my now-fully-erect cock. "Hey . . . this is cool as hell. Thanks."
I saw his mood changing slightly. He was straight, and this had gone as far as it was going to go. That was okay with me--he'd had his hand around another uncut guy's hard cock, and that other guy had had his hand around his hard cock, so he now knew what it felt like to check out another guy's foreskin.
So I didn't push. Instead, I took my hand off his hard cock and said, "You're welcome. Glad I could let you have a rare experience."
"Yeah," he said, sounding relieved that I understood he didn't want to go any farther. "You're the first guy I've seen who was my age and uncut like me."
I grinned into his now-smiling face. "And I'm sure I won't be the last. Lots of guys here are from Russia, Germany, and other places! And some are like us--born here but"--my grin widened--"unusual."
He laughed, appreciating my word choice.
Still hard, still naked, he reached out his hand and shook mine. "Thanks, man. Much appreciated."
"Absolutely. Take care, and I'll see you around."
And he went back to his locker to put on his Speedos while I headed to mine to dress and get ready for my next class.