Thinking double

By James Fourlegs 
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Now that I think about it, it was perhaps the best self-help book I'd ever found, right there at the check-out counter of the supermarket, although at first it didn't seem so. As usual, I'd caught myself gazing at the men on the covers of the women's magazines and the gossip tabloids and the soap opera journals, my mind effortlessly concocting stories about their double lives—publicly straight, privately gay. Each one would no doubt have a Rock Hudson- like story, with bulletproof PR support, about the wife, the kids, and the home, to support the mass-media marketing of their films and shows. You can't lose the mass market if you want to play in the big leagues. And quietly waiting for each one, off-camera, in the wings, off the record, would be his Adonis. If it wasn't true, it should be. Or let's hope so.

“Checking out that title? Great book. Works for me!” I was surprised by the voice and smile of the strapping young checkout clerk. “Yes,” I lied, trying to figure out what the clerk was talking about. There it was, next to the soaps guide. A self-help book, generic-looking, titled “Thinking Double.”

“I don't normally recommend books, but I think you'll like it,” the clerk smiled, flashing me a wonderfully knowing glance. “I did!”

Curious, and a little surprised and aroused by the friendliness of the handsome clerk, I thumbed through it. The spine showed the publisher's logo, a blue silhouette of a fat mare wearing a sun bonnet. I paged further, while his hands deftly went through my groceries, ringing them up on the register and bagging them. He handled them dextrously, as if he had four hands. I pictured four of his nice arms flying over the items, bagging them, loading them into the cart, and him walking me out to the car, two of the arms around me, the other two on the grocery cart. I was quickly hard. “If you can think it, you can do it,” he smiled at me. “That's what it says.”

“I like that thought,” I smiled. “I'll try it.”

“I do it all the time,” he encouraged me, counting the bills and coins of my change into my hands. “Nice meeting you,” he smiled. I felt a rush of attraction for him, but I kept it in check. His hands were already busy ringing up the next customer's sale as he turned back to his register, but he gave my shoulder a quick squeeze with his third arm. I did a double-take. He had four of the strong, handsome arms. The other customers didn't seem to notice. I hadn't either, before.

As I left, I glanced back at him. There they were, the back arms relaxed, hands in his jeans pockets, as his front arms worked the register and groceries. He waved a back arm at me, melting me with his encouraging smile. I was aroused but a little afraid. My imagination was a little out of control, I thought, driving home. But there was nothing imaginary about his beauty and friendliness.

Oddly, the drab-looking book book spilled out of the grocery bag as I unloaded it. I wasn't sure I had actually put it with my purchase items.

But there it was, listed on the receipt.

Later, I had time to read it. What a disappointment. It was typical of the wordy self-help books you see, written by clinicians and psychologists who, bound by their oath of confidentiality with their patients, seem driven to disburden themselves of their endless confidential life-stories by blathering them out in books and magazine articles, of course with names changed to technically preserve the sworn secrecy. I skimmed through it impatiently, finding drivel at every intermittent page turn where I tried to find some substance. “A patient of mine whom we'll call Millie came to me one day…” began one story. I skimmed through Millie, Seymour, a dim recollection of the author of the book about a childhood argument with an elderly minister's wife, and a re-telling of a trite proverb that had made the rounds ten years ago and had already been lampooned from the national consciousness in situation comedies and commercials. I would throw it away. Maybe they would take it back. There was nothing of interest in it, I thought, wishing there had been something that would have merited the recommendation of the handsome cashier, the very thought of whom aroused me again, picturing his four arms.

I was in the act of slapping the book shut when out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed the words “his double erection.” I had shut the book.

Where had I seen the words?

I opened it, paging madly. I realized, or so I thought, that I had missed a lot as I had first skimmed through. Wow. For one thing, I had not seen any pictures at all, but now was finding dozens. They were all illustrations of good-looking shirtless young guys, alone or in couples or groups, laughing and relaxing. Arms around each other. Wait a moment, I thought, getting hard. Multiple arms. Different words jumped out at me as I skimmed—“…nestled among four of his legs…”—“He invited to lift me up so I could ride his horseback…”—“…'I got more for you, man!' …” I flipped the book over quickly and checked the cover. The same title, “Thinking Double,” but elegantly set, in a handsome, masculine looking silver, brown and black layout, not nearly as generic-looking. There was a second line under the title—“Find Your World—It's There!” On the spine of the book was the logo of the publisher, a silver embossed relief of a handsome centaur, muscular arms spread in jubilation, with hardons springing from between his front and his back legs.

I was amazed and, naturally, hugely aroused. I couldn't believe it was the same book. I wanted to go back and meet the clerk again, this time definitely thinking of him with extra limbs.

I continued flipping through the text, and finally found, buried in the middle of the book, “… his double erection…”

I read the whole sentence. “I was so glad he showed me how easily he created his double erection.”

I read the whole paragraph:

“'You just come at it from a different attitude, man! People can see the same exact thing but get way different stuff from it, depending on what they really want deep inside. It's the same world, but you find what you look for. I had always known I wanted more, and when I found there were guys like me everywhere, it was like coming home, so natural.' By this time we were both really turned on, and I knew I had more than one hardon in me. Just looking at his two big guys made me feel doubly aroused, and sure enough, I could see and feel two massive, wonderful penises swelling beneath the soft white fabric of my briefs. I was so glad he showed me how easily he created his double erection.”

I read the whole book. I realized after finishing the book that I could picture myself with extras, a thought that made me incredibly horny. It made me remember an Internet chat I'd had with another gay guy once. I remembered him telling me he had dreamt once that his boyfriend had a second penis. The dream totally turned him on, because the boyfriend had grown the second penis out of love for him. What had turned my chat buddy's penis rock-hard was the realism of the dream, especially the sexiness of the boyfriend's sincerity about having a second penis to offer, to please him and to enhance their love.

The thought made me feel like I had two dicks squirming to come. I felt inspired try out the exercises from the book, even though they didn't seem to make sense. The book itself defied logic, from the start—being one kind of book if you saw it in a pedestrian light, and totally different when you thought of the word “double” in a bodily, sexually arousing sense.

For me, just thinking about doubling appendages wildly turned me on, the way my whole body, mind and soul got turned on thinking about the four-armed checkout guy at the supermarket. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't at least try the book's suggestion, so I could see if they worked or not.

Normally, my body was delightfully relaxed and ready for deep sleep by this time of evening, thanks to my daily run and workout routine, but tonight I felt my blood pounding as though I were still working out, although; I was big as a horse from arousal.

So I prepared to let my mind think of the sexiest thoughts it could imagine, and my huge penis gratefully accepted the massaging and stimulation my hands offered it.

I thought of the handsome, strapping young four-armed cashier, my penis jumping at the thought of him. I also pictured myself with a tall, strapping four-armed body like that of the cashier. That was a sexy thought too, making me want to wildly ejaculate, and enlarging my massive penis further. My hands gently gently worked my giant hardon to the largest it has ever been. I was amazed how big I could make my penis grow, as it towered and ached, alive and warm, wanting it even bigger. My hands worked the long shaft and giant, darkly engorged head of my enormous male sexual organ, masturbating it a little and making it want to come urgently, giving it a mind and a relentless will of its own. The moment it seemed it might blast me with come, I took my hands off it, letting my beautiful, giant penis ache, heavy with its engorgement and its huge, load of hot semen under pressure. I let go of its massive, weighted arousal. It swayed slowy, untouched, radiating heat, and then I masturbated it a bit more. I had never seen my penis so huge, because I had never teased my big guy to such an aroused state; just the sight of it made me want to come all day long! My mind was going mad with arousal. I had to marshall my thoughts, and remember what the book said.

The book said to picture and visualize what you wanted, while in this type of continuously-aroused state. So I let my inflamed brain project the most vivid imaginary images I could create in my mind. It was easy, given my body's urgent, lustful state.

I made a stark mental image of my towering penis and imagined it with a huge twin brother penis, knowing they'd get larger because it was so sexy having two towering penises so close to each other. I could vividly imagine gently working my two hardons, masturbating one of them until it wanted to come, then masturbating the other while the first one swayed heavily with its hot load untouched, aching to come. Then when the second huge guy was uncontrollably aroused and ready to come, I'd abandon it, and go back to the first towering hardon and masturbate it a bit more. I could do it one-handed, letting one hand alternate from penis to penis, or alternate from penis to penis with both hands, or I could let my left hand work the left penis and my right hand work the right penis. At times I'm sure I would masturbate both penises at once, feeling both penises and my semen-pressured groin swell and ache between the sweating muscles of my legs, feeling both penises madly enraged and dying to catapult burning, vaulting loads of hot semen skyward. It was so real and sexy in my mind; I wanted it to be so! I could even picture and imagine what it would feel like to be bumping my two horselike penises together, watching and feeling the twin heads swell with stimulation, then letting them subside again before bumping them together again. I could slowly push one penis slowly down while it was huge, stiff and aroused, as they did in sexual yoga classes. Over time, I would gradually be able to bend my rock-hard rod down lower and lower, while its brother penis remained huge and upright. Then I'd slowly bring the first penis up and slowly push its brother's stiffened length all the way down in the same way, doing one then the other, one then the other, while my loins became more like lions, growling and roaring with the urgency of all the come that raged for release. I could cross the two burning hot penises like swords, and imagine how the two shafts would feel contacting each other. It was so awesome and real in my mind.

I knew I was at the point where I could take the next step recommended by the book, even though my rational mind said it was totally nonsensical: it said for some guys, stimulating a nipple while masturbating the penis could produce still more vivid sexual imaginings. In order to bring the imaginings to reality, I should stimulate both nipples while masturbating the hugely aroused penis, doing my left nipple with my left hand and the right nipple with the right hand.

I had my penis to the point of coming, and had to clench my come muscles to keep myself from ejaculating from the sexy thought of having two penises. Taking the book at its word, I stimulated my nipples gently with the index fingers of both hands, which sensitized and firmed my nipples instantly, making them even more sensitive. Little sparks of pleasure hardened my nipples and my huge dick, and somehow made it even more vivid and pleasurable to visualize me having two giant, aroused dicks, although I just had the one which I continued to gently masturbate as it raged to ejaculate.

I was sweating, my heart pounding, my body totally alive and sexy, and I had kept this up for quite a while, it seemed, enjoying the arousal and the fantasy until it dawned on me that my hands were both on my nipples, yet my hand was masturbating my hge penis. I felt myself very hard and suddenly very triumphant. It had worked. I kept doing what I was doing to stay aroused and keep the thought intact, and reached up and flicked on the light switch.

It was so hot! My hands, which in my opinion are sexy enough that a guy might marry me for them, gently twirled my nipples, yet there was my hand on my huge penis, working it as I had been all this time. I laughed to myself, realizing that a fourth hand had done my bidding with the light switch. I was now four- armed!

I almost came—but I didn't want to spoil this if there was any chance that coming might break the spell. I took my hand off my gigantic penis and brought the hand up to meet its twin. I almost came when they touched each other for the first time. It was totally awesome to lay an arm on a twin arm and slide them over each other—it made me really hard! I brought my hand back from the light switch and let it meet its twin also. My left hand held its brother left hand—such a beautiful, erotic sight; they were so beautiful together. I let my two right arms caress each other, their strong, beautiful hands and fingers clasping each other. I was about to come like crazy.

I had never realized it would be so sexy to have two left arms and two right arms, and being four-handed was worth an endless ejaculation all by itself! The arms were identically handsome, although they seemed to have grown longer and more muscular, my hands stronger and more beautiful. I reached one of my right hands over and felt my left shoulder—it was doubled, with two smooth deltoid muscles at the shoulder. I reached my right hand around both sets of left arm muscles and squeezed the two arms together, comfortable against each other, and it was sexy to feel the firm, swollen tricep of my front arm pressing against and slightly flattening the handsome bicep of my back arm.

That did it, almost. I could feel come ready to burst from my sore, swollen giant of a penis, which was running torrents of pre-come by now. I knew that while I wasn't sure exactly what caused me to have double limbs, I could do it again.

I crossed my back arms behind my head, resting them on my pillow, and rested my head on them. Mmmmmm, that was nice, and so sexy! It was arousing to had a second pair of arms to reach down lazily to my huge penis. I let the pair of arms rest on my torso, which seemed handsomely elongated in the trunk. My front left arm touch my aroused, sensitive penis. If I also touched my giant guy with my front right hand, I imagined, it might feel as if I had two penises and was touching each with a different hand. And it did. I closed my eyes and wrapped my left hand around my shaft. I wrapped my right hand around as well. It felt like two shafts. I looked down, and it was just what I had imagined it to be. There they were, side by side, as huge and beautiful as I could have imagined them, two towering, massive, sexy penises. I lifted my neck and unfolded my back arms, bringing the hands around to gently work my nipples, which stiffened immediately with pleasure. My front hands made slow love to my handsome brother-partnership of penises, pushing them down slowly, bringing them back up, and masturbating first the one to the point of ejaculation, then resting it and masturbating the second penis.

Perhaps all the added testosterone of my four balls had changed my body, I'm not sure, but not only were my four arms longer, more muscular and more beautiful than before, but my whole body definitely felt taller and more muscular. My legs were longer, and my feet hung heavily off the end of the bed, which they never had before. Both my penises twinged with pleasure and the sexiness of my augmented body, in the awe of being double-hung and having my widened shoulders so heavy with four long, muscular arms. Oh god, did I have to come! Okay, let's fire these guns, I thought! I let my back arms sweetly caress my muscular torso and caress my front arms, while my front arms gently pleasured and masturbated my gigantic pair of penises. I brought my other hands down from my nipples, and fondled my two massive ballsacs with my them.

Both penises came nearly at once, each alive with its own pulses, as hot spats of come rained down on my chest and face from the two jets of semen spurting from my twin penises. I could hear semen splatting behind me against the wall, and caught some of it in one of my ears. I reaized I was yelping and groaning with pleasure, loving the ejaculating. Semen rained on my face and hair, on my broad double shoulders, got in my eyes, and I had to breathe though my mouth as my face became glazed with my twin jets of warm, splatting come. The come tasted wonderful, and I could feel my penises spasms lessening, arhythmically pulsing, and it was odd but very pleasurable to feel left pulses and right pulses as both guys put out leaping spouts of come.

Finally, my huge spent penises sprawled lengthily on each other, still convulsing with pleasure, as my come began to liquify on my warm body and to start running off in rivulets. My navel was a lake of come, with come spilling down my flanks and running down my hips to soak the bed. It was a wonderful, wonderful mess, as I wiped my face with my four hands, loving their feel, kissing all four of them. I had thought to place a roll of paper towels on the bedstand and used almost the whole roll wiping up my come, and I decided I would roll up the sheets and the mattress protector and launder them.

All at once I thought of my handsome four-armed guy.

I looked up the number for the supermarket called it, making up a lame excuse to ask for the cashier at checkstand one.

“You mean the young body-builder guy? He's off shift and is leaving.”

“He asked me to call him; it was important,” I lied. “Just tell him the customer who bought the book wants to thank him. He'll know who it is.”

I heard the clerk paged on the store's speaker system, and waited for what seemed an interminable time. Finally, I recognized it; the eager voice of my young checkout guy came on. “It worked, didn't it?”

“You knew!”

“I knew it would. I've been thinking about you all this time. I want to see you this way, in the worst way! I knew you would be awesome.”

I could scarcely believe I was talking to him, and my four hands were honestly shaking, although both my penises were newly aroused at the thought of him and the sound of his voice. “I've got to see you too! I know this is really stupid and premature, but I have to make love to you in the worst way, and I want to be your guy!”

“I've been thinking the same thing all day! Oh, fuck, my penises are sticking out the top of my jeans, I've got to get out of here. Quick, give me your address.” I did. “I'll be right over!”

I forget which penis came first, but the other one came too, almost instantly. “Oooh, man, I'm coming just thinking of you! Get over here. I'm all yours!”

“I'm there, man!”


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