wanks! And it's not like we ain't seen each other's equipment before awready."
£Yeah, but gangbangs are different! Wankin' wiv yer mates? That jus' ain't right." Dean argued.
"Oi, yer gonna be gettin' yer tadger out in a minute or two any-'ow. Ya might as well get warmed up like the rest o' us!" Ben laughed aloud.
Realising that he had been outvoted by the majority, Dean groused something underneath his breath before setting to work loosening his trousers like the rest of them, though forced to use only a single hand to do so while the other held the paperback. Despite this handicap, Dean was able pull out his manhood the same time Abe and Chad removed their own appendages from their cloth confines, the three of them shooting one other awkward glances, none of them believing they were actually going through with displaying their dicks to each other without a woman, or at least a very feminine boy, present. Nevertheless, the trio joined Ben - whose tugs had calmed down significantly since his initial frenzy - in slowly stroking their shafts without another word save for Dean's continued reading, though the host's speech had now become noticeably more slurred and stilted thanks to a combination of nerves and his concentration being divided between his mind and his
other
head.
However, with just a few additional page turns deeper into the magazine, the four friends quickly became somewhat more comfortable with the concept of collective masturbation over the initial uncertainty, if their bolder moans and the increased confidence in their wrist motions were any indicator. Despite being the one most opposed to the idea initially, Dean ironically turned out to be the most enthusiastic fapper out of the four during this time, the erotic words coming from his own mouth arousing him greatly as his right fist rapidly came up and down his extensive inches in an impressive example of multitasking, his masturbation hand shooting up from his privates to the book and returning again in less than a second each time he was required to flick to the next sheet just to minimise as much as possible the amount of time wasted not stroking his cock.
"Oooh! I like this one!" Abe excitedly declared just as the issue was opened up to an vertical, immaculately detailed portrayal of a willowy-limbed elf maiden with fair hair styled in a pixie cut, lounging completely nude on her side across a white silk-draped divan, facing towards the readers with a 'come hither' visage and nothing to hide her perfectly smooth, svelte front.
"Mmph~! Same 'ere!" Ben eagerly concurred. "Keep it open on this page for a bit, Dean!"
"Oi, give us a goosie, will ya? I can hardly see from 'ere!" Chad contributed to the chorus.
"'Ere, I got an easy solution." Dean responded to the final statement by stooping his torso over to reach down and lay the open paperback flat on the floor, not once taking his hand away from his cock and momentarily putting his head in the crossfire of those green sausages still in the midst of being stroked, straightening himself once more to allow each one of the circle to see the image without impediment.
"Oooh, nice~!" Chad commented as he shifted himself to the edge of his seat and leaned forwards to take a closer scrutiny of the picture, now tugging his large dick directly above the magazine. The others all followed suit, the emerald tips of their genital appendages - all more-or-less equal in size - coming dangerously close into contact with one another as their lengths were stroked, though none of them now seemed to mind in the slightest, mainly since their focus was primarily concentrated onto the drawing, though it was impossible for any of them to view the image without catching at least a glimpse of their fellows jerking themselves likewise in the peripheries of their vision from how closely huddled they all currently were, which soon led to a couple of comments being made.
"The 'el kinda way to beat yer meat is that?" Abe inquired, laughing as he looked to Dean sitting across from him who had his hand turned around backwards as it tugged on his member.
"Sumfin' wrong wiv doin' it this way? I've been wankin' like this for as long as I've known wot wankin' woz. Makes it feel more like yer gettin' a proper handy!" Dean countered. "Don' knock it if ya haven' tried it."
"I prefer goin' two-handed meself~" Chad interposed, prompting the pair sitting adjacent to him to turn their heads in his direction to see both his mitts clasped tightly around and pumping away at his girthy pillar at an unhurried pace in exchange for extra strength, his defined biceps bulging with every pull he made on his tube. Just then, a sudden grunt was heard from the other end of the ring, catching Abe, Chad and Dean off guard, leading them to turn their necks to the source just in time to see Ben's entire frame seize up for a brief instant as a thick dollop of transparent pre-cum unexpectedly dribbled from his urethra and landed precisely onto the illustrated elf's painted countenance.
"Gods dammit, Ben! Don' be gettin' the pages sticky now!" Dean snapped at his friend, while the remaining two could only laugh at what they were unable to decide was either poor or excellent aim on Ben's part.
Dean's vexation quickly dissolved however, being far too caught up in the moment to truly care about the state of his magazine, even if all four of them should end up soaking the paper with their spunk by the end of it all. The other three likewise lost themselves to their delight, the room filling with their unrestrained groans while their wrist motions far exceeded the moderate pace they had kept their jerking to up until this point, Ben trying out the two-handed technique while Abe and Chad forewent using the magazine for masturbatory material altogether as they both reclined into their chairs with eyes closed over in bliss, the former even deciding to try out Dean's unorthodox reverse-hand method on his manhood as he did so.
Already content by their own efforts causing their cocks to throb in their hands, the four non-human men had all but forgotten of their evening rendezvous by the time a rapping was heard coming from outwith the apartment's only door, gentle but making enough of a sound above their joint masculine huffs to startle each hardy orc out their daydreams. All quietly faced towards the door, before three out of the four pairs of eyes amongst them then expectantly fell to Dean for him to take action, seeing as it was his accommodation they were seated in as well as him being the one closest to the portal. The host got up and out his seat without another word and haphazardly stuffed his sausage back into his trews without giving himself time to adjust, leaving a rather obvious lump running from the centre of his crotch to his hip. Dean headed towards the door regardless, cracking it open just enough to let him ascertain who the caller may have been.
"Funny. The lads were jus' talkin' about ya earlier." Dean said to the new arrival, smiling to himself as he took two steps back to swiftly swing the door fully open to allow the individual on the other side entry to his less-than-humble abode, the three others gawking with mouths agape as their sights were blessed with the introduction of the fifth member of their small get-together.
"Bloody 'el!" Abe exclaimed after picking his jaw up from the floor. "Ya weren't 'alf-kiddin' when ya said she looked like the Queen. She's 'er flippin' double!"
In the doorframe stood a human woman approximately aged in the range of her late thirties to mid forties (the heavy make-up she wore made an estimate somewhat tricky to determine), with radiant olive skin and fluffy, curled locks resembling a cloud as sable as ebony resting on her shoulders which framed gorgeous features that bore more than just a remarkable resemblance to Snjórland's distinguished matriarch: from the soft, circular contour of her head, to the wise glint in her dark, pensive eyes, down to the beauty mark embellishing the left side of her top lip - a characteristic even most portrait artists tended to neglect - the lady's face was a precise copy to that of the kingdom's de facto ruler!
In place of royal regalia however, the woman was clad in articles which a monarch would never be caught dead wearing even in the most outlandish of costume parties: an open jacket made of carmine leather hung from her shoulders to the space between her chest and her stomach, better revealing her midriff bared in a crimson vest she wore underneath which was slightly smaller than even the black brassiere holding her hefty bosom perceivable from the lacy edges peeking out from the neck-end of the top. On her matronly waist, she wore a skirt predominately red in colour to match her upper half, but with a faux leopard print dotting the material as it held tightly to her hips and accentuated her prominent rump, and cut short to a ludicrous extent that allowed for the crotch of her hot pink thong to be plainly visible as its thin bands rode high up her appetising thighs, leaving her groin just scarcely concealed.
