I swallowed another delicious load of cum on the trail today. It took a bit of logistical maneuvering, but it was well worth the effort. The usual spot in the copse of pines where the hungry come to suck or get sucked (I call it the service station) was busier than usual. Three guys were milling around and I'm pretty sure that they all would have let me suck them off, but the presence of other donors apparently made them too nervous to whip it out. I knew one of the three had a nice package for me, so after a few minutes of awkward Mexican standoffs, I got up and walked down the trail to another spot that I knew would offer good cover from prying eyes. Luckily, the guy I've come to call "Mr. Construction" followed me at a safe distance so as not to attract attention. Maybe I should call him "Mr. Erection", in spite of the name "Johnson Construction" embroidered on his blue work shirt, because as soon as he leaned back against a mature pine tree and unzipped, I was on my knees, face to face-fuck with a fine piece already stiffening in anticipation. I like a guy who gets right down to business. The moment when I take another guy's manhood into my mouth is sublime and nothing turns me on more than the feeling of a guy's cock getting harder as I get down to work. His piece took a while to stiffen up fully, so I knew I might be in for a long session. I have mixed feelings about that because I love to take my time sucking the cum out of a hard one, but trail-sucking always involves a certain amount of risk, so the faster I can get my reward, the safer it is for both of us. But today, once he was fully extended I wanted to make the session last because his cock, already big when he pulled it out, became impressively large after a few minutes. This was definitely a prize worth waiting for. After about ten minutes or so his hips began to involuntarily oscillate, fucking my mouth while my tongue worked him over with dripping lust. When he started to quietly repeat, "oh fuck...oh fuck", I knew we had turned the corner and were charging full speed into the home stretch. I always appreciate it when a guy says, "I'm gonna cum!" because that's my cue to stop sucking and just let him blow while my tongue gently encourages his shaft. His explosion was deliciously intense as I felt the warm jets of cum bathing my mouth. His jizz was delicious; I could taste its sweet saltiness on the tip of my tongue and then its slightly sour finish as it slid past the taste buds along the sides, where the subtlety of a fine flow tells me I've uncorked an excellent vintage. When I'm lucky enough to drain a guy whose cock really pulses hard, I like to count the blasts to calculate my payday. He shot hard nine times and I kept his cock in my perfectly still throat to get the last couple of dribbles. Then as he pulled back slowly, I licked the tip of his softening member to get the last drop. I don't like to leave anything to be cleaned up. It's the mark of a true professional - don't leave any random spunk on the jobsite when your work is done.
We exchanged thanks and exited the grove in opposite directions, lucky that we hadn't been hit in the head by the pine cones we probably shook loose as we danced. I had known as we entered the grove that it would be an excellent workout because I had relieved Mr. Construction of his spunk yesterday, too. In fact, I took the loads of three guys in rapid suck-session yesterday. The first was a small dick and a small load; a mercy suck really. Mr. C had watched me work and stepped up quickly when I was still licking a couple of the first guy's drops off my lips. Working his erector set and taking his copious cum blast made me hungry like a wolf, so I quickly texted a friend I'd met on another trail and invited him to meet me at the trailhead. Ten minutes later, with the taste of the first two customers still in my throat, I had Mike's throbbing hard seven-shooter in my mouth. It had obviously been a while for him, as he creamed my mouth in just a couple of minutes. Mike's cum is to be appreciated only by connoisseurs like myself, never wasted on rank amateurs who can't appreciate its fine finish and aristocratic lineage. These are trade secrets known only by sommeliers of semen.
I've found the woodlands and trails around Traverse City to be a virtual cum-o-copia of hot spunk waiting to be liberated by cock junkies like me. Northwestern lower Michigan is a vacationer's paradise, but I wonder how many of the tourists (we call them "fudgies") have even a clue about the wondrous recreational pursuits awaiting them in that stand of tall pines up yonder. It's probably not likely to show up on billboards anytime soon. That's OK with me. I can't service everybody. I have to sleep sometime. Next?