High School Friend Said He Could Cum In Twenty Seconds

Everyone is 18.

He said he could cum in less than twenty seconds, then just keep going and cum again a minute later.

“This is crazy, but I have to see it.”

Cut to us in his backyard shed after school and he’s showing me. 

The shed smelled of old wood and the faint tang of motor oil, but I barely noticed. My heart was pounding as I stared at him, my best friend since freshman year, standing there with his pants around his ankles. His plump, half hard cock hung sweating between his legs, pale and smooth, the tip starting to pulse, coming to life. I swallowed hard, my own dick twitching in my jeans as he grinned at me, that cocky smirk I’d seen a thousand times before.

“Start the timer,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was about to perform some kind of magic trick. And maybe he was. I fumbled with my phone, my fingers trembling as I opened the stopwatch app. “Ready?” he asked, and I nodded, unable to speak.

He started slow, his hand wrapping around his flaccid cock, his fingers sliding over the soft skin. But within seconds, he was moving faster, his hand pumping up and down, his dick thickening before my eyes. It was like watching a flower bloom in fast-forward, his cock growing harder and harder with each stroke. Precum beaded at the tip, glistening in the dim light, and I felt my own dick straining against the fabric of my jeans.

“Fifteen seconds,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his breathing quickening, his hand moving even faster now. His cock was fully erect, the veins standing out against the pale skin, the head flushed a deep red. And then, just as I hit the twenty-second mark, he came. A thick stream of cum shot out of his dick, splattering onto the wooden floor, and I watched, mesmerized, as he kept going, his hand never stopping.

“Fifty seconds,” I said, my voice shaky now, my own hand unconsciously moving to my crotch. He nodded again, his eyes closed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, just as promised, he came again, another load spilling out of his cock, adding to the mess on the floor.

I was rock hard now, my dick pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans. He looked at me, his chest heaving, his cock still hard and leaking.

 “Your turn,” he said, and even though this wasn't part of the plan, I didn’t hesitate.

 I unzipped my jeans, pulling them down along with my boxers, my own cock springing free. It was thicker than his and heavy, the head already glistening with precum, my balls tight against my body.

We stood there, just a few feet apart, our dicks in our hands, stroking ourselves in unison. The shed was filled with the sound of our breathing, the soft slap of skin against skin, and the occasional moan as we edged closer and closer to climax. “Like Dante descending into the Inferno,” I thought, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the heat, the way the air seemed to grip us, or the way I felt like I was crossing some kind of threshold.

“Check this out,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening Instagram. He scrolled through images of girls from our school, their smiling faces, their tight bodies, their suggestive poses. We both groaned, our hands moving faster now, our dicks throbbing with need. He switched to porn, the images more explicit, more raw, and I felt my balls tighten, the pressure building.

I came, a strong stream of cum shooting out of my dick, landing on the floor beside his earlier mess. He followed moments later, his load joining mine, the two of us standing there, panting, our dicks still hard, our hands still moving.

We didn’t stop. We had no reason to stop. It was like some kind of fucked-up marathon, the two of us pushing each other to go further, to last longer, to cum harder. We pulled up more images, more videos, our hands never stopping, our dicks never softening. I lost track of how many times I came, the pleasure building and building until it felt like I was going to burst.

He was like a machine, his cock never flagging, his load spilling out again and again, each one oozier than the last. I lost count after his sixth, my own body trembling with exhaustion, my dick still hard, still throbbing.

“This is insane,” I muttered, my voice hoarse, my hand cramping from the constant motion.

“Insane like Moby Dick,” he said, grinning at me, his eyes shining with a kind of wild, unhinged excitement. “We’re chasing the white whale, man. We’re not stopping until we’ve got it.”

I laughed, though it came out more like a groan, my body aching, my dick still begging for more. And then, just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he moved closer, his body pressing against mine, his hand reaching for my dick.

“Let’s see if we can do it together,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, and I nodded, my heart racing, my body on fire.

Somehow, my exhaustion faded when he began touching me. I didn’t expect it, especially after cumming multiple times, but the porn still playing on his phone, combined with the way his hand wrapped around my aching cock, reignited the fire in me. My body responded instantly, my dick twitching in his grip, already leaking precum. I let him jerk me off, my breath hitching as his fingers moved expertly over my sensitive skin.

Of course, I returned the favor. My hand found his cock, still hard and hot, and I stroked him in rhythm with his movements. The shed was alive with the sound of our ragged breathing, the slick slide of our hands, and the soft moans from our lips.

In the spirit of wild adventure, I leaned in, my heart racing, and pressed my lips to his. He didn’t hesitate, his tongue meeting mine in a hungry, desperate kiss. Boy or girl, the feeling was electric, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down my spine. My hand tightened around his cock as I came again, a weaker but still intense spurt of cum adding to the mess on the floor.

True to form, he didn’t stop. Even though my dick was sensitive, sore, and downright empty, he kept tugging me, his hand never slowing. I did the same for him, my fingers moving in time with his, our bodies locked in a feverish rhythm. It was insane, reckless, and utterly intoxicating. I leaned down to spit on his cock, and he mimicked it on me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my voice hoarse, my body trembling with overstimulation.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine, his breath hot and desperate.

We didn’t. The porn kept playing, the images flickering on the screen, fueling our lust even further. I have no idea how many times we came, the pleasure building and building until it felt like we were floating, untethered from reality. It was raw, primal, and completely unhinged, and I loved every second of it.

It was around sunset when his mom texted him to come inside for dinner, and our session was over. We flipped the switch and started acting totally straight again as we got dressed, even when his sweaty ass was in my face as he bent over to grab his pants, damp from furiously jerking off all afternoon. The smell of sweat and cum still wafted into our nostrils, but we ignored it, pulling on our clothes with practiced casualness.

We came in for dinner, his mom standing at the stove with a wooden spoon in hand, her apron speckled with tomato sauce. “What were you two doing out there all afternoon?” she asked, her tone light but curious.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Just working on my engine,” he said, his voice steady, his face completely straight. “You know, getting ready for the summer road trips.”

I almost choked on my water, but I managed to keep a straight face. His mom nodded, satisfied with the answer, and turned back to the stove. I shot him a look, and he smirked, that same cocky grin I’d seen a thousand times, but now it felt loaded with something else—something secret and shared.

We sat down at the table, the space between us full of unspoken words. His mom dished out spaghetti and meatballs to us and his brother, who was quietly playing on his phone while eating. We ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of forks against plates. My mind kept drifting back to the shed, to the way his hand had felt on my dick, the way his lips had tasted against mine. I glanced at him across the table, and he caught my eye, his grin widening ever so slightly.

“You boys want seconds?” his mom asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, please,” we said almost in unison.

"I thought you boys looked like you could go for another round," she said to us, and we looked at each other knowingly, and then laughed, the tension easing just a little.

But as I pushed my plate away, and his Mom left for the kitchen, I had a creeping thought, and acted on it before I could even think about it. Just as he was shoving another meatball into his face, I moved my foot over and slowly crept it up his leg.

His head jerked to look at me, his face frozen, realizing this wasn't over yet. He looked over to his brother, who had looked up from his phone to give us a knowing smirk.