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He transferred his forefinger to the other side of the shaft, and hooked it below it, supporting it so that the glans, by now doubled in size, was raised up. His thumb rubbed the upper surface of the shank, and more fingers joined in the support. He took the hand away, to re- assure himself of the presence of the towel, to catch the sperm and perhaps to cover himself in case of an intrusion. When he removed his hand, the shaft supported itself. He switched on the bedlight, and lay admiring the growing weapon. By now it was no mere stiffy, but a tree in full flare. He watched the taut skin pulling slowly back across the glistening plum-surface of his close textured glans. There was no quick flick of the fingers this time: he was taking his time. When the skin finally caught up on the flaring corona, the upturned rim of his glorious helmet, he pressed down with both hands on his pubic lawn, stretching the skin on the shaft enough to clear the rim.