Deja Vu
I'd never cruised this particular spot before. Although it wasn't far away from the small town where I grew up, I didn't know it was there when I was living in the area. Besides, I never imagined cruising when I was a teenager. I was too busy trying to make everyone think I was straight.
I'd heard about this spot from someone else who grew up in the area, so when I had occasion to return, I decided to check it out. I pulled into the parking lot late in the afternoon and was disappointed to see that it was deserted. Bob had said it got hot just before and after dark.
I left my car and wandered into the men's room. It felt as if it was going to be a cool evening. I was pleased that this particular men's room was clean, unlike like many I've used in city parks. I was also pleased to see that the glory hole between the stalls was still there and the viewing hole between the first stall and the urinal was still intact as well just as Bob had described them.
I took the first stall, dropped my pants, sat down and prepared to read the book I brought along in case things were slow. I was glad it was a good book because I read a chapter before anything more interesting came along.
I got up and moved to the picnic table outside two different times to stretch my legs. Finally as it got too dark to read outside, I moved back into that first stall. The one dim ceiling light was just enough for me to read by. I was really starting to get into the book, the latest sci-fi novel by my favorite author, when I finally heard the door open.
I watched through the viewing hole as a young stud, somewhere in his late teens or early 20s, pulled his cock out of his pants and began to take a long piss. When he finished, he shook the drops off, but then, to my delight, began to play with himself. In seconds, his 7-1/2 cock stood out from his body with a slight upward curve. Then he hauled his balls out. They were beautiful! full and loose, with a few blond hairs sprouting from them. He proceeded to stretch his balls and give his cock a few more strokes.
I couldn't help myself, I licked my lips and said, "mmm-mmm." To my complete disappointment, the blond stud was startled at the sound of my voice. In seconds, he had stuffed himself back into his jeans, zipped his fly and bolted out the door.
"Oh well," I thought. "It was pretty while it lasted." I went back to my book, but something in the air caught my nose. It was the smell of cow barn. That young stud was a dairy farmer (or a dairy farmer's son)!
My most painful and poignant memories came floating back to me. When I was 15 years old, I had fallen deeply in love with a farm boy a year older than me. Since my parents had moved shortly thereafter, I had stayed that summer and the next on Marty's farm. We were the closest of friends; spent every day together and slept every night in the same bed both just wearing cotton briefs. He even let me curl up against his beautiful body. as we drifted off to sleep each night.
His very stern, demanding father, however, had been scared by a gay cousin years earlier, and so had instilled deep and powerful homophobia in his son. I've never been more consistently frustrated in my life! I tried many times to gain access to the treasures hidden in Marty's briefs, but there was no way he would let me. The funny thing was, he never got angry at me for trying. Still, to be so close physically and mentally with the boy of my creams, sorry that's dreams, and yet not be able to consummate my love for him was such torture! I must have had almost a quart's worth of wet dreams in those two summers. Eventually Marty and I parted company after an argument over some stupid thing, I can't even remember. I still miss him. I'd give a lot to be close to him again...
My reverie was interrupted as the door opened again. This time the person went right to the second stall, dropped his pants to his ankles and sat down. I looked through the glory hole and was delighted to see that it was the same farm-boy I had seen before. He had leaned back on the toilet with his legs stretched out in front of him, slightly spread, and his shirt pulled up. He was playing with one of his nipples as he slowly stroked his cock.
I watched the show he was putting on, then put on my own for a couple of minutes. "Come on over!" he said in a loud whisper. That was just what I had in mind. I really like full-body contact with a sex partner rather than just mouth to cock. I pulled up my pants and moved into his stall. He had pulled up his legs and was sitting almost lotus-style on the toilet.
When I stepped in, he grabbed my cock, but I pushed his hand away at first so I could lean over and give him a hug. He responded by pulling me close to him and leaning forward so I could put my arms behind his back. It felt so good to be hugged close by this gorgeous young stud, and that persistent smell of dairy barn that never quite showers off just added to the sensations of the moment. I wanted to suck this kid's beautiful cock!
I lifted him off the toilet seat and he put his feet down to trade places with me. His gorgeous dick head hit me right in the nose leaving a wet droplet of precum behind. I pulled his cock down and touched the tip with my tongue, savoring the sweet taste of the next drop that had already gathered at the tip.
Then I started on his balls. The skin of his ball sack was soft and loose with just a scattering of hairs. I nipped at it with my teeth, licked it, sucked it and finally took each nut into my mouth and sucked on it. Then I took both nuts, caught them between my teeth and pulled on them, stretching his ball sack as far as I could, while he moaned, "Oh yeah, man, suck my balls!"
Then I started to lick the bottom side of his rod at the base and worked my way up to the head, just like it was a big all-day sucker. It dug my tongue into his piss slit and then dived down to swallow him whole, causing him to moan in pleasure. I held him tightly in my mouth, sucking and swallowed several times, massaging his cock with my throat. "O God!" he groaned.
I grabbed his tight butt and kneaded both sides very firmly while I started very slowly to move in and out on his shaft. I dropped one butt cheek and reached up to pinch his nipple, then massaged his pec very firmly. At the same time, I used my other hand to reach beneath his balls and began to massage the base of his cock. I pulled gently on the hairs I found there.
I could feel his cock beginning to swell as he moaned louder and louder. The sounds he was making began to grow desperate and rose in pitch, almost to a cry as his cock began to shoot an incredible load of warm, sweet cum down my throat. He grabbed my shoulders tightly to steady himself as his knees began to buckle. His cock kept throbbing for several minutes as I continued to suck on it and massage his balls, while he ran his fingers through my hair and massaged my neck and shoulders.
Finally, he locked his hands under my arms and pulled me up into a powerful hug. The warmth of him as we held each other tightly mingled with the smell of sweat and cum and barn were overpowering. We pulled apart and just looked at each other. There was something in his grey-blue eyes, something about his face, something deep within him that seemed weirdly familiar.
"Nobody around here sucks cock like that!" he said. "You are so good!"
"Thanks," I said, returning his grin. Then, much to my surprise, he pushed me aside and sat down. He reached up and grabbed my cock in his hand. "I can't believe it!" I thought to myself. "This stud is actually going to return the favor!"
"God! I love red cock hair!" he said as he swallowed me whole. Evidently he'd been paying attention to everything I had done, because he did it ALL to me. When I came, he took every drop.
I was exhausted, but I didn't want to lose this moment. I pulled him up and we hugged again. "You are so beautiful!" I whispered into his ear.
"Thanks!" he said. "That was so good! You're very hot and very tasty for such an old man!" he said winking at me.
Normally, I would have been ready to part company at this point. Ever since my teens and my first love that didn't amount to anything, I'd never really felt anything for another guy. I just needed to get off every once in awhile. There was something stirring in me that I couldn't explain. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Marty." He replied without hesitating. "What's yours?"
"Dan." I said. I paused for a moment wondering what was happening to me, then asked, "Could I buy you a cup of coffee, Marty?"
"Make it a coke and you're on." he replied.
We jumped in our vehicles (he was driving a fantastic old pickup). He followed me to the Perkins at the other end of town. As we settled in the booth, I kept looking at him. There was something so familiar about this kid!
"What are you looking at?" Marty asked.
"I don't know what it is," I said. "It's like I know you from somewhere, but I can't put a finger on it. Do you know what deja vu is?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Well, it's a little like that, but not quite." I commented, still trying to make sense of what I was feeling.
"That's funny, Dan," he said. "I'm feeling a little like that, too."
"Are you from around here?" I asked, wondering if he'd trust me enough to say.
"Yeah, I'm from Andersonville," he said.
"Really!" I responded. "That's where I grew up! Well, at least until high school. My family moved before I started high school about 30 years ago. I spent that summer and the next living on a dairy farm with my best friend and his family."
"Oh my God!" Marty almost shouted. Then he said much more quietly, "YOU'RE DAN!"
"Yeah." I said.
"Dan, I'm Martin Anderson, Jr." he said, extending his hand. "It's great to meet you!"
I shook his hand. He had very large hands and a great, warm grip.
"You're Marty's son?" I asked him, my head spinning.
"Yeah, Dan!" he said smiling. "How about that!"
"Marty, if your dad knew what I just did with his son, he'd kill me!" I said.
"You're probably right, Dan." Marty replied, still smiling. "But don't worry, he hasn't got a clue about me. He's the most homophobic person I know."
"I guess I'm not surprised," I said. "I'm afraid I really scared the shit out of him."
"Well, yeah, between grandpa with his stories and you wanting to make love to him, he was scared and confused. He still is," Marty said, thoughtfully.
"You mean he told you about me?" I asked.
"Sure!" Marty said. "He tried to use you to scare me the way grandpa used his cousin to scare him." Marty replied.
"I guess it didn't work," I said smiling.
He smiled back and said, "Well, when I was younger it did, but as I got older and dad kept up with his stories, I started to get curious and excited by them. He told me every detail. He couldn't seem to tell them enough. It was like he was trying to exorcise a ghost or something. Finally I decided he was trying to convince himself more than me."
"What was he trying to convince himself of, Marty?" I asked.
"That he didn't love you. That he didn't want to respond to you. That he wasn't sorry,... isn't sorry he never did." Marty answered sadly.
I felt as if someone had just stabbed me through the heart. An old familiar emptiness opened up inside me. Tears began to well up in my eyes.
"I'm sorry, Dan!" Marty said. "Are you OK? The look of genuine concern in his eyes melted my heart the rest of the way. He reached out and touched my hand and the tears I hadn't cried for 30 years began to flow down my face. "My dad really hurt you, didn't he?" Marty asked.
"Yeah, he did, and himself too, the way it sounds." I answered softly, trying not to fall completely apart. I was wondering why things in life get so screwed up sometimes. Neither Marty Sr. nor I had ever been the same again after we were almost together 30 years before. I felt just as bad for him as I felt for myself. It hurt me to think that someone I loved so much had been so unhappy when I would have given anything to have him back; to make him happy.
Marty Jr. and I just sat there for awhile in silence. "Listen Dan, do you have anywhere you need to be tonight?" he asked, snapping me back into reality.
"No," I replied. "Do you?"
"No," he said. "and I've got an idea. There's a motel next door. Why don't we get a room?"
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Marty answered.
We left the restaurant and registered at the motel as father and son. Once we were in our room, Marty started to take off his shirt, then asked, "How were you and dad dressed when you slept together?"
"Just in cotton briefs." I said. "That upstairs bedroom was hotter than hell in the summertime. What did you have in mind?"
"Just strip down to your underwear and climb in bed with me." Marty answered, jumping under the covers and smiling broadly. "Which side did you sleep on?" he asked.
"The left," I replied.
He slid over and threw back the covers. "Now snuggle up next to me and put your head on my chest, just like you did with my dad." Marty instructed.
As I lay close to Marty Jr. taking in his scent, my head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body next to mine, the tears started to roll down my cheeks and onto him. I'd spent 30 years trying to block out how much I loved Marty's dad and 30 years trying not to feel how much I'd missed him every day. Marty just took it in stride and held me tighter. As my tears began to subside, Marty whispered gently, "If things had gone the way they should have, Dan, what would have happened next?"
I grew breathless at the prospect. I reached down and brushed my hand across Marty's briefs. I could feel his hardening rod bulging beneath the soft white cotton fabric. I began to knead and rub his cock as it rose to my touch. Next, I played with the soft hair below his navel and slid my fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts. The warmth of his throbbing cock felt so wonderful, so natural in my hand. I reached down to massage his balls.
Marty moaned softly, "That's right, Dan, do whatever you wanted to do with my dad."
I slid up to kiss his cheek. He turned and we kissed full on the lips. Our tongues began to explore each other's lips and mouths. My heart began to pound.
This was only the beginning of what became one of the warmest, sweetest, most affectionate, most healing nights of my life.
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