For the summer I've moved into Manpark and slept under the stars. A few other guys have moved in as well. To make enough to eat I work at a few temp jobs.
We gathered in ManPark one night to tell stories around an imaginary campfire. Here's the story I told.
My first assignment was at the city auditorium where we were setting up for a wedding party.
The foreman for the arrangement was someone named Joshua. I asked for him and was glad to see the square-shouldered 35-year old walking up to me, ocean-blue eyes and all.
A couple other temps were assigned to the place and Josh got a couple started on vacuuming, a couple others on sweeping a separate area and a few wiping windows and setting up tables.
"I've got one other project that I'm going to handle myself but I need one person to help. I guess you're it," he said when I was the last one of the group unemployed. "Follow me."
We headed down a longish hallway and around a corner to some restrooms. He walked up to where a metal wall separated the two toilets. The small urinal was against the opposite wall. He grabbed the metal and rocked it back and forth.
"Needs a screw on the floor," he said. "You wanna go down or should I?"
No sooner was on I on my knees when he unzpped the full crotch that was at eye level. I didn't even look up but took the pink, musky mushroom into my mouth and drank it in.
He unbuckled a heavy buckle above my forehead and unfastened his pants, letting them drop to the floor. His legs were firm as tree trunks and I leaned my hands against each of them, bobbing my head forward to take him deep against the back of my throat and then pushing myself away until only my tongue remained buried into his pee slit.
When I knew he was about to come I inched my hands up to his balls and held them tight against his asshole. I increased the pace of my face against his bushy groin and then stopped suddenly, knowing he'd be unable to keep from coming. I held my lips a half inch from his bulging cock head and when he came it was warm surges of salty ocean almost drowning me.
After many minutes of welcome silence and stillness, he finally broke it with a relaxing sigh and flexed his knees. I slowly raised myself from the floor where I'd fallen into a heap. He reached over the the paper towel dispenser and dropped a few from a feet feet over my head onto me. Then he dropped a screw and handed me a screwdriver.
"You'll need this," he said.
A couple days later I was assigned a job in an office building where some desks needed to be moved from office to office. It was a big complex of anonymous buildings. I was told to report to Dave.
He was in the basement, down a service elevator and in a half-room submerged behind an impromptu wall at the back of the room. Stacks of desks and chairs were in the front main area of the room. The added-on wall didn't completey go to the ceiling. Dave sat at a desk in the back area.
He had that kind of beard I call a farmer's beard, not well groomed but not sloppy, not trimmed down to fit a certain shape but allowed to grow in all places that it does grow. Dave was about my age. We shook hands.
He was matter-of-fact, if now dawdling. He showed me the first desks we'd be moving and then wanted to show me where they'd be going before actually getting them ready to move. We headed up the service elevator, a crammed space. He didn't mind me standing behind him to the right, my nose practically slipping into his tee-shirt to see what wonders were below the neckline from which no hairs emerged.
We got to the rooms where the desks were to be delivered and were met by a secretary who informed us that the desk move had not yet been approved and wouldn't be for a couple more days.
Back in the main room outside his office behind the fake wall he said how he'd like to find something else for me to do since I was there in the first place.
"Hmm, what else have I got that needs doing?" he wondered aloud and I could barely keep myself from saying, "We could close your office door but the moaning would still be heard out here." The words were in my mouth but not said yet when he suddenly said, "Oh! The paint room."
Some sails that had filled to full in my mind suddenly went limper than my dick as I followed him out of the room.
Down the hall of the long basement I followed him, around a corner where we came to a boiler room door, big metal latch and all. He opened it.
We steped onto a wire catwalk a foot below hall level and walked to the ten metal mesh stairs at the end. There in the basement of the basement of the building were several long, narrow tanks with gadgets and submarine trap doors attached to them.
Off to one corner was the "paint room," a few wooden shelves crammed with buckets and garbage and boxes and caulking guns and stir sticks.
"This needs arranging," he said. I grabbed a box that looked like it already had garbage in it and took a few steps toward the corner.
"There's another area over here you can't see from there," he said, starting to walk away. I followed and, sure enough, around a corner was a small room with only a utility sink, a hose attached to the faucet.
"This needs arranging, too," he suddenly turned and was rubbing his crotch. "Take your clothes off."
I didn't say a word but began to do as he'd asked. He was doing the same. I stood and waited. He grabbed the hose and began to run water until it was the temperature he wanted. He turned the hose on me, slowly and ritualistically.
The warmth passing down the inside of my legs caused my cock to harden immediately. He began to brush his beard against my stomach as he kissed my nipples and licked the hair path from my navel to my neck.
When he finally had worked his way up my neck and was standing face to face and kissing me, he took my hand in his and passed the hose to me. He slowly fell to his knees and then onto his back. The floor drain was situated between his shoulders and he stretched his legs out.
I held the hose with its slow-running stream a foot or two above him, letting the warmth soften him. His cock was hard and huge, uncut. The hair I'd expected and anticipated on his chest to match the luxurious beard was not there. His chest was smooth as a sixteen-year-old's. And as soft too.
I too had gotten to my knees. He took the hose from my hand and directed it to my asshole.
"Straddle me," he coaxed and I did, facing him. It wasn't long before he'd replaced the hose with his own hose and was fucking me slowly and deeply.
I'd reached my hands up to his ears and brought them back to me, pulling on his beard, softly but strongly.
"Yes, pull it," he urged. I did. With each finished tug I drew my face closer to his. Him fucking me, my stroking his beard, we did this for a long, slow time until finally our faces met and we tugged at each other's lips and tongues with our teeth.
I gasped in surprise and bit him when he suddenly pulled out of my ass. "Wha---?"
"Stay like that," he said, meaning on all fours. He slid out from underneath me and stood behind me. Then he knelt and entered. The rhythm that I thought we'd lost was quickly found again.
He'd found the hose again and positioned it between his chest and my back, the water slowly washing up my back and then down to his slippery piece of heaven. When his humping reached the frantic, involuntary rate, the hose fell away and I pushed back against him as he filled me with repeated explosions.
After what was at least his fifteenth shudder, he reached around and found my cock with his left hand and the hose with his right. He positioned the hose so that the water pushed against the base of my balls and washed up onto my cock to where his hand was pumping in the perfect rhythm. He worked his thumb into my wanting ass with his hand still holding the hose in the perfect spot.
About to come, I clenched my assmuscles on his thumb and his clenched the neck of my dick in a tight grip. My hips bucked forward to where only the tip of his thumb was still in me then hips bucked backwards in a collapse of relief, twice, four times, eight.
My ear against his neck, his beard covered my cheek and one eye. I reached up with my tongue to lick the tip of his chin from beneath and behind. Again my teeth tugged as his tasty bushiness. He held the hose up to his mouth to have a drink and the overflow poured down his chin and through his beard. I drank as of nectar.
Yesterday I was put on an assignment where a few of us were to move a day care from one building to another across the street, a two-day project. I was to report to Jacqueline. Damn, I thought, and I was having such luck.
Jacqueline wasn't in her office when I got there. She showed up a few minutes later with three clipboards in her hands and never stopped moving.
"There are three other temps coming. All of you are to listen to ..... Sean!" She addressed him as he entered the room. Looking at his tight red hair and the freckles that went from the back of his hand to his sleeve-line, I didn't have to wonder how to spell "Shawn."
At first I could only notice his shoes, size 19 he told me today. Herman Munster shoes, I thought at the time. A bit of red-blonde hair sprouted from his open shirt, the kind that has only two buttons, a collar.
Just then another temp entered the room. Then another. Sean soon had us working on various projects, carrying room by room from one building to the next.
We passed each other going the opposite direction many times, each carrying something.
Nothing to say, I'd usually look at him as we passed. He'd have a sort of stupid half-smile on his face. Each time at the last second my eyes dropped to take in his crotch.
It had been the immediate second thing I'd noticed about him that morning. On any other man I'd have guessed the curve of cloth that arced from his lap as a fabric fold, nothing more. And a large fold at that.
No. This could only be the real thing, judging by the perfectly outlined head that was shown in denim there too. So round, so full. No size queen at all, I was mentally obsessed by this crotch. My hands were yearning to grab it, hold it, squeeze and please it. My tongue was tasting and feeling every richly imagined drop.
During a cigarette break and a walk around the building I discovered two bathrooms at the back corner of the building, detached from the rest of the building. They served the neighborhood park that adjoined the property. The small park had been unpopulated the entire morning.
After the cigarette break, more walking, more stupid smile. More glancing at his crotch at every chance I could. If he was in front of me, I'd look at the reflection in the glass of the door as we'd enter the building we were moving from. I tried to time it so that I was going up the stairs while he was coming down at the building we were moving to.
At lunch time most of the others had gone to a local corner store for sandwiches. I stayed behind.
"Not eating?" he asked.
"Naw. I think I'll just walk around," I told him.
I had the bathroom in mind, of course, and was there not much longer. I sat on the toilet and took out my cock which had been half hard all morning. My horniness was so urgent that it drowned out my hearing as I started to shake my dick around in the open air. My eyes were staring at the memory of Sean's magnificent mound. My lips stroked the corners of my mouth.
I stretched my legs out from my sitting position to a straight-out position. The door began to swing open. And there he was.
"You sure you don't want lunch?" he asked, a grin on his face, as he stepped into the stall with me.
My hands went forward like jets with my face immediately behind. I gnawed at his pole through the denim until it turned dark from the moisture. I was salivating as I reached up to undo his pants.
As he pulled them down once I'd opened them, my hands reached up to pet the hair that dusted his chest. His huge hands covered my ears as he pulled my head from its furious lashing about.
He had me still before the pants fell past the log that was buried beneath them. Perfectly round and larger than those orange-flavored push-up popcicles. My tongue would not stay in my mouth.
"You like that, eh?" I nodded. "I saw you glancing at me all morning. I'm used to both men and women that can't keep their eyes off it," he said. "And the men know how to treat it best."
He shook his hips slightly and held my head just far enough away that the vision of his cock was all that filled my vision, bobbing before me slowly, left, right, up, down. He slapped it gently against one cheek then the other then my chin, then my nose then my lips.
At the deepest I was taking only about half of him. And my mouth has never felt so stretched and yet so eager. My sucking was as unforced as a baby at a bottle. He rocked my head only a tiny distance; most of the motion was from his pelvis.
On anyone else, his balls would have been medium-large but on him they looked small and an afterthought. Already my head was against the back of the toilet and he was straddled over my face. He removed his solid sucker from my mouth and replaced it with his balls, sitting gently on me.
I took them both in my mouth at once and ran my tongue over them with first speed and then a slow inhaling. I reached one hand up (and up and up) to travel the magnitude of his cock.
As I continued to lap his balls he slowly stroked himself, even his large hands not big enough to cover the whole of it.
"Want me to come in your mouth?"
"Do I ever," I mumbled, his balls still in my mouth.
He removed himself and stepped back one full step to get just the head of his dick in position. I attached myself to it widely. He kept his jacking off motion against my now-stationary mouth.
The taste, the concept, the reality of having my mouth full of only dick head made me shoot my was just as he expanded in my mouth even more. He reached down and his hand completely surrounded my pulsing cock, filling his palm with my stickiness. He reached it up to his nose first and then his lips.
As he started to shoot his load against the back of my tongue and throat, he poked his tongue from his mouth and jammed it through his come-covered fingers. He let out a moan.
My mouth, already filled to cramming with his spongy softness, couldn't hold the huge load which splashed in rapidly propelled wads from both corners of my mouth. The fact that he was coming didn't slow down his jack off movements, his knuckles continuing to brush against my nose and cheeks. I was swallowing as much and as rapidly as I could his sumptuous splatter.
Lunch? It was a feast!
I'm going to have to add that park and rest room to my wanderings. Even though it doesn't seem like folks use the park for anything at all, let alone that, I will know that nearby is a cock that would make all the waiting and wanting worthwhile.