Down on Dyke Road Part 6
It had been over a week since my last trip to Dyke Road. A flu had gone around the office, and I was lucky enough to have caught it, so on those rare days when I did actually go to work I didn't feel much like having fun afterwards. It was more the pity, actually, because most of the days found me at home, surfing the web to occupy my time when I wasn't sleeping. I spent hours chatting with men who wanted sex, and reading stories about men wanting sex, and watching mpegs of men having sex. My resolve to respect my potential partners by not giving them the flu was diminishing with each second.
Those days were full of masturbation, every chance I could get. I loved stroking my cock, rubbing it until it was red and my balls were covered in sweat. Swallowing every single drop of cum I produced, as the days went by I found the quantity of my loads smaller with each orgasm, and my thirst, my hunger, for the sweet love cum directly from another mans turgid throbbing cock was becoming overwhelming!
So on Wednesday, when I went to work feeling much better, I knew I'd be back at the river later that day. A huge container ferry was slowly working the way upstream when I arrived, and I was delighted to smoke my cigar while watching it. The sun was setting behind some dark clouds, turning the last rays of the day a distinct and gorgeous shade of purply-red.
As it turned out, that was the only delights I had that day. No one came by, not one horny man looking for some casual outdoor sex. I went home disappointed, although remembering that no one gets lucky all the time and being grateful for the opportunities I'd been presented so far. Still, it was a little discouraging.
The next day was the same, as was the day after that. Three days in a row I had to remind myself that just viewing a sunset, listening to great music on my car's CD player, getting baked on the finest weed and enjoying my one cigar of the day was more than wonderful. And don't get me wrong, I do truly treasure those moments of solitude and physical beauty. It's never a disappointment to share some quality time with Mother Nature.
But I was really dying to suck some cock!
Saturday was a mountain bike-riding day, and I followed my usual trail down the river a few kilometres. I saw a couple of dozen or so people, always looking for any signs from guys that they were out there for something other than the fresh air. But if there were hints, I didn't get them. So the ride turned into just that; a good ride. I was on the trails for a couple of hours, and by the time I returned home my thigh muscles ached, my lungs were wide open and full of quality oxygen, and I was covered in a sheen of sweat. The rest of the day went by with food and friends, and I vowed to get up the next day and repeat my exercise.
Sunday was overcast, and threatening rain, but I was undaunted. I hopped onto my bike early in the morning and headed out. An hour or so later, I was covered in sweat and stopped at a picnic table near the river, snacking on a PowerBar and enjoying the wind blowing through my hair. I didn't hear anyone approaching, and was quite surprised when I heard the voice behind me.
"How's it going?"
I turned, in shock, to see a mid-thirties guy, wearing sweats and a pullover, dark shoulder-length curly hair, tanned skin. He looked like he'd been jogging, his breathing heavy.
"Good. How about you?"
He nodded his answer. He looked nervous, although I could be wrong. He was shifting his weight back and forth. It looked like he was trying to think of something to say, but couldn't quite come up with anything.
"It's a great day, isn't it?"
Looking around, back and forth, he nodded once more. But he still couldn't say anything.
A few awkward moments went by, while he just looked at me. Finally, I decided to test the waters, to see if my day was improving.
"Are you looking for something?"
At that he perked up. A smile crossed his face, and he made an obvious gesture towards a treed area a few yards away.
I think my smile was even bigger than his, as it suddenly came to me what he wanted. Sex! He was just too nervous to bring it up! I laughed, and grabbed my bike and started pushing it to the trees. Glancing over my shoulder, I gave him my best 'come hither' look and then slipped in-between two large bushes that I knew led to a small area well-hidden from the trail.
I leaned my bike against a tree as he entered the area. It was obvious he had a hard-on, his sweats were tenting out. I could already tell that he had a nice package. Not as nice as Brad's, or Richard's for that matter, but I had no doubt it was going to fit into my mouth quite nicely! He was looking down at my crotch too, and I proudly smiled at the hard-on forming in my spandex shorts. This was indeed a turn-on!
As I approached him, he quickly looked around, reassuring himself one more time before anything happened that he was safe, that no one could see. I understood his nervousness. Although I'd been having a really good string of luck and confidence in the last two weeks with my encounters and probably more relaxed about the situation, I was struck by his concern. The lesson is a good one to learn. Don't let the horniness get the best of you. It's not a bad thing to be secure.
Anyway, those few seconds went by and we were fine. I walked up to him, and let my left hand drift to his belly. He shivered as soon as I touched him, and I knew it was an amazing moment, the thrill of his lifetime, so I smiled and then ran my hand down directly over his cock, now rock hard in his sweats. He gasped, and a moan escaped his lips, despite the obvious attempt he was making at trying to play it cool, to control the situation, to pretend like he was the master of his urges. That made me smile even more. For some reason, I suddenly realized this could be his first time, and it took me back to my own initial sexual experience with another man. I remembered how fucking nervous and scared I was too, how I was actually shuddering in almost imperceptible motions throughout my entire body, every nerve and muscle, when I was caressed for the first time.
I moved closer to him, my side touching his, next to his arm, giving him the opportunity, if he wanted it, of putting his left arm on or around me. There was no sense in pushing him if this was indeed his male/male "de-flowering". I'd let him get as involved, or not, as he wanted to be. Still, my immediate guess was that he wouldn't really do much.
So I was very delighted when his arm came up, brushing my ass, and moving to the middle of my back. This was going better than I'd expected. My hand, to this point delicately tracing the shape of his cock, now pressed more firmly onto him, bringing a deeper and louder moan from him, and I moved even closer to him, tucking my head between his head and his shoulder, and gently kissed his neck. He was breathing heavily now, as my fingers caressed his shaft and then his balls in long slow languorous and forceful ways. I was trying to take more of him into my hands, notwithstanding the material of his sweats getting in the way.
My tongue gently licked the skin below his left ear as my kiss began exploring, and I teasingly moved up and took his earlobe in between my lips, gently biting down and sucking that little flap of skin as hard as I could. His head leaned over towards me, and his arm began moving up and down my back, getting ever closer to my ass. As it was, I was pressing my groin into his hip, trying to rub my own rippling cock against him harder and harder, as my hand closed down fully on his penis, rubbing him with all my might.
His breath caught in his throat, so all he could do was whisper "Holy fuck", which made me laugh and my grip on his earlobe let go. I loved his reaction, hearing the unbridled passion in his words, and my instant reaction was to lift my head and move my mouth to his. In the second or two it took me to move my lips to just next to his, he reeled, pushing me away in one smooth motion as his eyes widened like teacup saucers.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he practically yelled, and as I stumbled back on my heels I took a quick peek to both the left and the right, in case someone had heard and was running to his assistance. "I'm not a fag!"
For just a few seconds, I stood in stunned disbelief. How could I have read this all wrong? Wasn't he giving me all the right signs? Am I just so horny and needy for sex with men that I deluded myself?
But those feelings quickly turned, and I found myself becoming angry. How dare he? What was he thinking?
"Oh you're not a fag, huh? So who came in here to get sex? Who was just standing there loving it while a man was fondling his cock and kissing his neck?"
He couldn't answer that. He just stood there, breathing hard, his tent still evident in his sweatpants.
"Look at you!" I pointed right as his crotch. "You're standing there with a huge hard-on! Sure, you're not a fag," I stretched out that word sarcastically, "but you still want to get sucked, don't you?"
His hands were trembling.
My incredulous tone took over. "Don't you?"
There was fear in his eyes, but I could see it changing. It was almost like a recognition of some sort, an awareness suddenly coming to him as he let his initial emotional reaction fade. Society told him it was wrong, which is why he lashed out. But now he could see that he really did want it, really did want a man to suck him. That's not how it's supposed to be, that's the puritanical doctrine he's trying to get over. And then, as his breathing returned closer to normal, he looked down at himself, and a glimpse of a smile came over his face.
"And let me guess," I continued, "you think that another man kissing you makes you a fag, but it's perfectly straight and normal to let another man rub your cock, let him suck you off? Is that the idea?"
His eyes lifted to mine again, and he sheepishly nodded yes. He was kind of cute when he wasn't been a jerk.
"I...I..." he stammered, "I...don't know what to say. I'm sorry."
I let him stew in the sounds of those words, as I took a moment to think about what I'd say next. As I paced slightly back and forth, I was struck with the humor of the situation, especially when I realized that I still had a rock-hard piece of flesh in my spandex shorts.
His eyes were staring at my cock too. I could see when I looked up at him. He was staring at it, and there was the trace of a smile on his face!
That's when it all became perfectly clear to me. He not only wanted me to suck his cock, to swallow his meat and drink his juice like the good cumslut that I am, but he had that craving for flesh himself! I was flooded with imagery of him on his knees, his virgin lips wrapped around the pulsing pre-cum-drenched head of my cock, his fingers lightly fondling my balls. It was almost like a movie in my head, with different angles of viewing, slow motion, and incredible close-ups.
"Get over here."
He looked up at me, from my hard-on to my eyes. The look was a questioning one.
"What?"
"You heard me," I answered, slipping my hands under the waistband of the shorts and beginning to peel them downward, exposing the skin of my lower belly and then the reddish-brown curls of my pubic hair. "Get over here. Now."
His eyes were like saucers again, only this time they weren't part of an abject look of fear. This time, he was stepping so far out of the door and into space he knew he'd never come back the same.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" I asked as I freed my throbbing cock, which sprang up and thwapped me on the belly. My balls, furry and full of seed, hung down and stole his attention too. "You want me to suck you, you've already admitted that. But I can tell," I continued, " even more, you want to feel what it's like to have a salty cock down your throat first."
Neither of us moved for a few moments. It occurred to me that I might have over-played it, and I was about to say something, when he moved his right foot forward. I looked up at his face, and his smile was more evident. I'd won!
"Yes, I admit it," he whispered as he moved his left foot now, and then his right, and then his left. I stopped counting, as he also began moving lower, so by the time he was in front of me he simply fell the tiny amount to his knees, bringing his mouth a scant few inches from my shaft. I looked down, and for the first time in my life found myself in a control position. Several scenarios instantly played out in my head, and if possible my cock became even harder.
Looking from his eyes to my cock-head and back again, I found my voice.
"Do you want to suck my cock?"
He nodded up and down, the first few slowly and then faster after that, and started leaning towards it, I'm sure to take his first step, or should I say lick, towards sexual freedom.
I stopped him by leaning backwards slightly, moving my cock away from his nearing mouth.
"First, you have to beg me to kiss you."
I wondered how he'd react. Would he be appalled, again? Am I still crossing a line he simply won't abide? Was I about to ruin what could be a great cock-sucking session for me?
There wasn't long to wait. He licked his lips, which trembled nervously, and looked me in the eyes. I watched his breath seem to come straight up from the center of his body, finally manifesting itself in the sweetest of voice.
"Please kiss me." He waited a second or two for my reaction. "Please."
God, I wished I'd had a camera with me. To be able to record the longing in his eyes, the need he so obviously had for male/male sexuality, would have been priceless. Still, I have the memory firmly implanted in my mind, etched forever in my psyche. This peaceful Sunday morning, in a setting as quiet and placid as this riverside forest, the distant and plaintive cry of the gulls, wind rustling through the leaves of the trees and shrubs, are all with me still, as vivid as when they were new.
I leaned over and touched my lips to his. He shivered, as did I, and then he opened his mouth, offering it to me. Of course, I gladly took it. My tongue slipped between his lips, which were now grabbing at mine hungrily, and touched his teeth before delicately finding his tongue. Both of us were breathing heavily now, rapid snorts of cool air rippling through our nostrils, our mouths joined, lips caressing. My fingers moved to his head and ran through his dark, curly hair, and I pulled his head even closer to mine.
For someone who moments ago was aghast at the prospect, he was truly impressing me with his new-found sensual openness. He'd discovered something new today, and I was so elated and warmed that I'd been able to help him on that journey. Plus, he was an incredible kisser!
We continued kissing, both of us moving our heads back and forth, our noses bumping as we switched sides over and over, our tongues tasting and touching each other's. Short of breath, but not wanting to stop, I nonetheless recognized that he was letting me lead the tongue dance, and I decided we had to move onto other things.
Breaking the kiss, I looked him in the eyes, and smiled. "I'm married, and I kiss men. I see that you have a ring on too, so you're married and now you kiss men. That doesn't make you a fag." My words hung in the air.
"It makes you a sexual person, somebody who enjoys pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. It makes you a lover."
He nodded, and I kissed him once more, lightly, and with feeling.
Then I stood up straight, and wrapping my fingers around the hot and pulsing shaft of my penis, I brought it to within millimeters of his lips.
"Now," I whispered, "you can suck my cock."
It was like I'd told a starving man on his deathbed that he could save himself and eat the feast that had been laid out before him. His lips instantly engulfed my cock-head, now seeping pre-cum like I couldn't remember ever doing, and I could hear the slurping sounds his mouth made as he sucked it all off my skin and into his mouth. Then I moaned out loud, letting him know he was doing it right, and he smiled around my shaft. His eyes closed, he was reveling in the sensations he was experiencing, as he took more and more of me into his mouth with each down-stroke. He ran his hands up the backside of my legs, up to my bare ass, and began kneading my cheeks. I was hoping he'd slip a finger into my ass at that moment, but it was a fleeting thought. He'd already gone further than he'd ever thought possible, and was pleasuring me in ways he'd abhorred until today, and his hands felt incredibly wonderful caressing my buttocks.
All too soon I felt the sensations rising in me, the nerve endings deep within the base of my cock beginning that most precious of cycles, the cum beginning to rise within my balls. His head was bobbing faster now, and with each rush of air on my slick shaft as he came up, I knew I was going to fill his palette with my seed. It was only a matter of time, and a short matter at that.
A few sucks later, I felt that surge inside that told me I could control the inevitable no longer. Grunting loudly, I grabbed the back of his head with both hands and pulled him to me, basically shoving the entire length of my cock into his mouth. For a split second, time did indeed stand still, and I saw his eyes close again, as if he knew what was going to happen and not only was prepared for it but welcomed it with all his might.
Pulse after pulse, I shot streams of jism into his mouth. It didn't even slow him down. He was swallowing my cum and sucking it out faster than I could pump it. Each shot was divine, and each was toe-curling and oh so memorable.
I finally let go of his head, but he didn't bring it off my cock. He kept licking and sucking, taking time to kiss and lick and suck my balls too, while my cock glistened in the speckled sunlight of the morning from a combination of his saliva and my semen. Then he returned to my shaft, and licked up every thing he could, moaning all the while.
What's most amazing about his encounter is that it almost never happened. About twenty minutes later, after I'd cleaned his balls out with the best blowjob he'd ever had, and after we'd spent a short time just making out like teenagers, I looked back on his initial reaction to the idea of kissing me and how it all could have gone south. My thoughts and feelings came flooding back to me, and my cock again swelled with blood.
I remembered the taste of his cum, how much of it there was, how he was just over six inches and cut and had shaved balls, and how he'd absolutely giggled in delight when I'd slipped a finger into his anus. His shaking as he came, the raging smile he held as he calmed down from his orgasm. All of those pictures are stored in my memory as well.
Then I laughed to myself, thinking about what had been an afterthought, and how it shouldn't have been. After I'd blown him, and swallowed every drop of his delicious cum, and after we'd both straightened up and were walking back out of the treed area towards the trail, to return to our other lives, I turned to him and asked him the one question I'd failed to before. He smiled from ear to ear when he answered, as he waved goodbye to me and told me that he really sincerely hoped that we'd meet again.
He told me his name. Ken.
I got the funny feeling I'd be seeing more from him.
End of Part 6.
More to follow.