This was about 9 or so years ago when I was just starting my first year in college. A group of highschool friends and I had promised after we left school we would have one last weekend doing airsoft. There were about 6 core friends and 6-7 others who were invited along to get the numbers up.
We would spend three or so days (a weekend usually) out in the grounds of the estate near where I lived. It was such an awesome place, I still take walks there every so often. We had the usual gear and cool attachments for our gas powered weapons (what little good they did, we couldn't aim for shit.)
Now this story involves my best friend Rowan (I've changed his name because we're still really good friends. That and he doesn't actually know that this happened).
Rowan was and always has been a straight, heretrosexual manly man. Typical lad with a love for lager and doing lad stuff, in lad circumstances, with the lads. He stands about 6"2 (a couple inches shorter than myself) has soft brown hair all over his body and a semi-muscular build. He'd always been a really rugged guy body wise, and wasn't afraid of flaunting his masculinity whenever he had eyes on him, male or female. I saw more of him because he was my best friend.
Anyway during these weekends, we'd all be super into it and taking it super serious. So natrually we had the gear. The vests, the holsters, the helmets, and even the MRE ration packs which were actually really yummy and filling. Not sure if they were actually MRE's used by the UK Army, but they were great...I digress...
So the first night we were on this thing, nothing happened. Rowan and I were chilling by the small fire we'd managed to get going and from where we'd set up we could see the others doing much the same at a couple of other spots on the blackened landscape. Rowan even got into a flashlight taunting match with one of his Sea Cadet friends. They had been with them earlier in highschool and had memorized the morse code system. He'd get the message, right it down and we'd both laugh our asses off at the response as the letters were written down one by one.
We checked out gear, made sure we had enough cylinders for our weapons and then crawled into our sleeping bags. I would often get completely inside mine and then use my phone for a while. There was actually good service up there due to a mast being installed back in the early 2000s. I'd watch youtube and fall asleep.
The next day Rowan and I had some scraps for breakfast, the bacon in the MRE's we were eating was like jerky when prepared properly and would dry like that. Supposed it was deliberate, so sometimes we'd keep some of it later in the day as a snack. We packed away our sleep bags and other personal stuff and then left our little spot and headed out.
By the time we got back later that evening we were both spent. I had taken a few slugs to places that weren't supposed to be targeted and was feeling the discomfort. We settled down and got quiet, like really quiet. We were so wasted energy wise from the day that we didn't have much to say.
Eventually some conversation sprung up, not entirely sure what it was about. But we got to talking about what we were into. Rowan mainly asked me because he was curious. He knew I was gay and was wondering what turns a gay guy on. I told him "plenty of things. At least in my case.".
He snorted tiredly and adjusted his position where he sat, his legs parted slightly. "...like what?"
"I don't know...uh...I mean there's a part of me that's really into this." I replied, making a gesture between us. "...being out here in this gear, firing pot-shots at each other. It's fun, but it does things to me..."
I couldn't see his face, we both had balaclava's on, mainly to stop the midges biting us (Google it). Now I don't know what possessed him in that moment, or if I had somehow thrown out a signal or whatrver. But his tone suddenly shifted and he asked. "...what is it like a gear kink thing?"
At that time I wasn't really sure what that meant. But looking back on it, and given some future experiences I've had with men in gear, I realise that I probably was referring to us both, in our gear. There has always been something strangely erotic about it for me. Not sure why. But again I digress.
I made a thoughtful noise or something, and shrugged. "...I don't know what that means..."
"It means you get off to being in your tacticals..." he replied. "Or you like seeing other guys in them."
I'm almost certain I blushed furiously under my balaclava and I guess I said something, or made a sound, or some sort of sign that he was right. Because the next thing I know he had moved his left leg and pressed his boot against my crotch, right between my legs.
Now, I wanna say that it takes a great deal of effort to make me cum. I have always been kind of non-sensitive below, and I can go an hour or so before I even get close to orgasm. But in this exact moment as the sole of his boot pressed against my groin. I felt this odd tingling sensation in my loins.
I wasn't hard, not right away, but I did feel that something was happening, and there was a faint pleasurable sensation accompanying it. I of course squrimed back and made a "oh fuck off!" or something, which we both laughed at.
Rowan stood up after that and went to look for his phone. Bare in mind only a few seconds have passed and this feeling is still there. I turned to the fire and pressed my knees a little closer together. It suddenly hit me that I was definitely getting hard but not in the usual "Oh I have a boner" kind of way. Something else was happening, the tingling got more and more intense and the pleasure ramped up to. Before I knew it my dick was pressed against my thigh under my pants.
I sat there for what could have been a small eternity, tense all over, still as rock. But then I relaxed, just as the pleasure and sensitivity hit me like a punch to the back of the head. I felt the hot volleys of liquid shooting out over my thigh, and the spasms and pleasure that came from my taint and my tip was overwhelming. It kept on coming, watery and hot, spurt after spurt.
By the way, in the minute or so that followed as I came harder than I'd ever cum before in my pants. Rowan was looking through his stuff for his phone, muttering under his breath about where it was. He even asked "can you see it?" as he turned to face me and looked around. For whatever reason he didn't notice what had happened to me. What he'd caused.
He continued his search whilst I battled to maintain some semblance of composure, my thigh soaked under my pants and the fabric, usually somewhat waterproof starting to show wet stains, the usually navy blue getting darker. I covered it my moving my airsoft rifle onto my lap, as if resting it there.
Rowan eventually found his phone and sat down next to me, looking at it's screen. He said something to me about a new video he'd been watching a lot of, but I didn't quite register it. Eventually I did recover from it, but the aftershocks went on for a good minute or so afterwards.
When we finally did call it a night, and I climbed into my sleeping back, I remember reaching into my pants and feeling at the mess there. It was still moist and slick. And my cock though soft was oddly sensitive and tingly to the touch. It was as if this had overwhelmed it. It's the only time I'd ever been super sensitive like this.
The third day was pretty much the same as the first, not much happened. He didn't ask about, and has never asked about it. So I assume he never noticed. He wasn't the type to ignore that sort of thing. He would have laughed his ass off and made jokes for months with me about it (all in good humour of course, he's never been an asshole.)
So yeah...that's that I suppose. Thought I'd get this out there...see what people think? I don't know...thanks for reading either way
- - -
I apologise if this is rambling, or incoherent. it happened nearly a decade ago and I also have serious issues with putting my own experiences into words. Sorry if it's boring ;-;
We would spend three or so days (a weekend usually) out in the grounds of the estate near where I lived. It was such an awesome place, I still take walks there every so often. We had the usual gear and cool attachments for our gas powered weapons (what little good they did, we couldn't aim for shit.)
Now this story involves my best friend Rowan (I've changed his name because we're still really good friends. That and he doesn't actually know that this happened).
Rowan was and always has been a straight, heretrosexual manly man. Typical lad with a love for lager and doing lad stuff, in lad circumstances, with the lads. He stands about 6"2 (a couple inches shorter than myself) has soft brown hair all over his body and a semi-muscular build. He'd always been a really rugged guy body wise, and wasn't afraid of flaunting his masculinity whenever he had eyes on him, male or female. I saw more of him because he was my best friend.
Anyway during these weekends, we'd all be super into it and taking it super serious. So natrually we had the gear. The vests, the holsters, the helmets, and even the MRE ration packs which were actually really yummy and filling. Not sure if they were actually MRE's used by the UK Army, but they were great...I digress...
So the first night we were on this thing, nothing happened. Rowan and I were chilling by the small fire we'd managed to get going and from where we'd set up we could see the others doing much the same at a couple of other spots on the blackened landscape. Rowan even got into a flashlight taunting match with one of his Sea Cadet friends. They had been with them earlier in highschool and had memorized the morse code system. He'd get the message, right it down and we'd both laugh our asses off at the response as the letters were written down one by one.
We checked out gear, made sure we had enough cylinders for our weapons and then crawled into our sleeping bags. I would often get completely inside mine and then use my phone for a while. There was actually good service up there due to a mast being installed back in the early 2000s. I'd watch youtube and fall asleep.
The next day Rowan and I had some scraps for breakfast, the bacon in the MRE's we were eating was like jerky when prepared properly and would dry like that. Supposed it was deliberate, so sometimes we'd keep some of it later in the day as a snack. We packed away our sleep bags and other personal stuff and then left our little spot and headed out.
By the time we got back later that evening we were both spent. I had taken a few slugs to places that weren't supposed to be targeted and was feeling the discomfort. We settled down and got quiet, like really quiet. We were so wasted energy wise from the day that we didn't have much to say.
Eventually some conversation sprung up, not entirely sure what it was about. But we got to talking about what we were into. Rowan mainly asked me because he was curious. He knew I was gay and was wondering what turns a gay guy on. I told him "plenty of things. At least in my case.".
He snorted tiredly and adjusted his position where he sat, his legs parted slightly. "...like what?"
"I don't know...uh...I mean there's a part of me that's really into this." I replied, making a gesture between us. "...being out here in this gear, firing pot-shots at each other. It's fun, but it does things to me..."
I couldn't see his face, we both had balaclava's on, mainly to stop the midges biting us (Google it). Now I don't know what possessed him in that moment, or if I had somehow thrown out a signal or whatrver. But his tone suddenly shifted and he asked. "...what is it like a gear kink thing?"
At that time I wasn't really sure what that meant. But looking back on it, and given some future experiences I've had with men in gear, I realise that I probably was referring to us both, in our gear. There has always been something strangely erotic about it for me. Not sure why. But again I digress.
I made a thoughtful noise or something, and shrugged. "...I don't know what that means..."
"It means you get off to being in your tacticals..." he replied. "Or you like seeing other guys in them."
I'm almost certain I blushed furiously under my balaclava and I guess I said something, or made a sound, or some sort of sign that he was right. Because the next thing I know he had moved his left leg and pressed his boot against my crotch, right between my legs.
Now, I wanna say that it takes a great deal of effort to make me cum. I have always been kind of non-sensitive below, and I can go an hour or so before I even get close to orgasm. But in this exact moment as the sole of his boot pressed against my groin. I felt this odd tingling sensation in my loins.
I wasn't hard, not right away, but I did feel that something was happening, and there was a faint pleasurable sensation accompanying it. I of course squrimed back and made a "oh fuck off!" or something, which we both laughed at.
Rowan stood up after that and went to look for his phone. Bare in mind only a few seconds have passed and this feeling is still there. I turned to the fire and pressed my knees a little closer together. It suddenly hit me that I was definitely getting hard but not in the usual "Oh I have a boner" kind of way. Something else was happening, the tingling got more and more intense and the pleasure ramped up to. Before I knew it my dick was pressed against my thigh under my pants.
I sat there for what could have been a small eternity, tense all over, still as rock. But then I relaxed, just as the pleasure and sensitivity hit me like a punch to the back of the head. I felt the hot volleys of liquid shooting out over my thigh, and the spasms and pleasure that came from my taint and my tip was overwhelming. It kept on coming, watery and hot, spurt after spurt.
By the way, in the minute or so that followed as I came harder than I'd ever cum before in my pants. Rowan was looking through his stuff for his phone, muttering under his breath about where it was. He even asked "can you see it?" as he turned to face me and looked around. For whatever reason he didn't notice what had happened to me. What he'd caused.
He continued his search whilst I battled to maintain some semblance of composure, my thigh soaked under my pants and the fabric, usually somewhat waterproof starting to show wet stains, the usually navy blue getting darker. I covered it my moving my airsoft rifle onto my lap, as if resting it there.
Rowan eventually found his phone and sat down next to me, looking at it's screen. He said something to me about a new video he'd been watching a lot of, but I didn't quite register it. Eventually I did recover from it, but the aftershocks went on for a good minute or so afterwards.
When we finally did call it a night, and I climbed into my sleeping back, I remember reaching into my pants and feeling at the mess there. It was still moist and slick. And my cock though soft was oddly sensitive and tingly to the touch. It was as if this had overwhelmed it. It's the only time I'd ever been super sensitive like this.
The third day was pretty much the same as the first, not much happened. He didn't ask about, and has never asked about it. So I assume he never noticed. He wasn't the type to ignore that sort of thing. He would have laughed his ass off and made jokes for months with me about it (all in good humour of course, he's never been an asshole.)
So yeah...that's that I suppose. Thought I'd get this out there...see what people think? I don't know...thanks for reading either way
- - -
I apologise if this is rambling, or incoherent. it happened nearly a decade ago and I also have serious issues with putting my own experiences into words. Sorry if it's boring ;-;
