A tiny branch snapped under my foot as I crossed the last few yards of meadow behind Marty.
"Hey there," he said without turning around. "How's it going today?"
I never knew how he knew when I was there. He simply knew. Like everything else about Marty, he was equal parts of wise man, enigmatic mystery, hillbilly clown, and amazing sex machine.
I plopped my skinny butt next to his and gave him a quick hug around his shoulders. His bare chest and shoulders scorched my hand. No surprise: it had to be 90 degrees and almost as humid this late mid-summer afternoon in the park. There was a thunderstorm brewing to the south and west, not a good sign, even though the sun was blazing hot. All of the very worst weather came from that direction.
"Any sign of him," I asked as I lit up a smoke and handed Marty the pack. He was always just out of cigarettes and he took the box and my lighter with a grateful grunt.
"Nope," he sighed, lighting up. "But I'm sure he'll show today," he said, exhaling smoke and spitting a tiny fleck of tobacco from the tip of his tongue. "I just know it."
Marty had been keeping vigil on this particular knoll for at least three weeks. Waiting for Jason. The details were sketchy but the best we could get out of him was that Marty had been smitten about three weeks ago at this very spot; he'd confessed his infatuation to usonly a few days ago.
Our small, ragtag group gathered most weekday afternoons as worked ended. We'd usually come from our jobs, ready for a few jokes, a little gossip, some good-natured kidding, and a little down time before heading off to our respective homes about 6 or so. Sometimes, if the chemistry was right, one of or more of us would adjourn to the woods or, very rarely, to someone's home for some recreational afternoon delight. None of the relationships was serious; we were simply there to have fun.
For a variety of reasons that particular night three weeks ago Marty was the only one who showed up, he explained to us in his soft drawl. Like today, it had been hot as hell and very humid and a storm was definitely brewing. He sat alone on the hilltop, chewing on bits of grass and gazing off into the trees.
Marty was amazingly patient. I never knew exactly where he grew up - somebody told me it was somewhere in central Kentucky - but whatever his heritage, he knew how to relax and let the world go by without much trouble. Ironically, he was a rather brilliant, very intense computer programmer mastering the then-new computer video technology. He came from a big family, mostly boys, and he was somewhere in the middle. He had hinted that he and his older and younger brothers had been known to "fool around" before he left home for the big city. I can only imagine how much fun it would be to be in a whole room full of Marty look-alikes "fooling around."
We sat, almost breathless, as Marty related his story.
He recalled that as the sky grew darker from the impending storm and the rumble of far-away thunder, his eye had caught a slight movement in the tree line bordering the small meadow across the park road from our usual spot. Squinting slightly - Marty was too vain to admit he needed glasses - he saw a slim figure making his way up a trail along the edge of the woods.
Marty sat upright and hunched forward - as if the few extra inches would somehow get him telescopically closer to his prey.
"All of my senses somehow went on full alert," he said in almost reverent tones. "I heard, saw, smelled, felt, and tasted everything from that moment on with a new sharpness." We nodded our understanding and waited for him to continue.
The mystery figure paused, turned, and seemed to look directly at Marty before disappearing behind a small clump of shrubs. Martygave his shoulders a shake, as if suddenly chilled by the sight. Not knowing exactly why, "I stood, stretched, and marched straight down this hill, right across that road, and right up to the spot where I last seen him," Marty said, gesturing across the way. "Right there. See that spot? Right there! I mean, he was real!"
When he reached the spot, nobody was there. But down the path he heard a gentle swish of branches moving back into place. The woods were amazingly dark for late afternoon. Clouds had blotted out the sun and the rumble of thunder was closer and more frequent although still far away.
Marty walked down the path heading into the denser undergrowth, pausing every few steps to listen for more movement. He passed the spot where the swaying branch had been and came to a fork in the path. One path ran uphill and, he knew, circled back to the meadow; the other went to a ledge where it seemed to stop before dropping off an escarpment into tangled growth below. Doubting anyone would go there, he turned uphill and walked a few yards. No sign of anyone. He stopped and listened.
Crack. The sound popped up from the woods below the ledge and seemed to hang in mid-air before dying away. Marty stepped close to the ledge and looked down.
There, in an open circle of honeysuckle, stood the most beautiful young man Marty had ever seen. He was stark naked. Gazing up at Marty, he nodded once, gave his hard dick a single jerk, then turned into the bushes and vanished.
"I never boned that fast in my whole life. I swear, I went from absolute soft to nearly creaming myself in a flash," he told us a few days later. "I mean, here I am, walking through the woods looking for who knows what, ready to give up, thinking I was crazy, when all of a sudden there's this fucking beautiful boy standing naked in the woods 30 feet below me."
"I could have fallen over and died right there," he said with a smile and a sigh. "I didn't know whether to puke, shit, pass out, cum, or wet myself," he howled as we sat around listening to his tale.
Breathless and shaky, Marty retraced his steps and found the path that seemed to end at the ledge. On closer examination, he spied tree roots and rocks jutting from the ravine that provided a very uneven stairway to the bottom where another path disappeared into the undergrowth.
His hands slick with sweat, Marty hopped and jumped to the lower path and crouched low to enter the honeysuckle tunnels. He came to the open circle and looked up to where he had stood moments before, then turned around and entered the same path the naked guy had taken.
Not more than 30 feet away, he turned right and saw him: beautiful, dark haired, thin, muscular, naked, and looking straight at him, stroking a stunning cock. Marty stood absolutely still, afraid he would scare the fellow. Dripping with sweat, Marty reached up to wipe the drops from his eyes and then slid his hand down his bare chest, sweeping the sweat away. Marty grabbed his crotch and gave a slight squeeze, half relief/half signal that he was willing to play.
The other guy turned sideways and tugged at his huge boner, showing it off. He fixed his gaze on Marty, twitched his head sideways, his dark straight hair flowing with the motion, and magically moved Marty forward the few remaining feet. The guy stopped stroking and put his hand forward, palm up, then cupped and flicked his fingers back a few times, all the while piercing Marty with his dark eyes.
"I couldn't not do it," Marty said breathlessly to us. "I've never seen anyone or anything so beautiful and perfect in my life. It was like my legs had no mind and his eyes just drew me toward him. I was dazed, man; just dazed."
When they were almost touching the young man held up his hand and ran his fingers across Marty's chest, flicking his hard nipples and stroking down along his treasure trail. Looking up, he licked his lips and smiled.
"My God," Marty related, "It was as if the sun had never shined it was so bright."
Marty reached out and touched the other man's chest and felt an electric current race through them. They pulled together, almost in slow motion, and simply held on for dear life.
"What's your name?" the other guy whispered in his left ear.
"Marty," he rasped.
"Jason, here," he replied, drawing Marty closer to his face.
Their lips met and their mouths opened, consuming the other and wanting more.
"I never, I mean never, ever had a kiss like that," Marty confessed. "Damn near blew my load right then."
Jason grabbed Marty's hips and pulled him into his own crotch, grinding their cocks together. Marty hunched his hips back and tugged his shorts and boxers off in a single motion, kicking the clothing aside without thought. They grabbed each other and mashed their bodies back together, rubbing and grinding their hard cocks and torsos, holding tight to the other's ass cheeks, reaching the peak of sexual frenzy.
Jason's fingers spread apart Marty's ass cheeks and crept toward his sweaty hole. Marty squeezed their cocks together, slowly jerking up and down using sweat as lube.
"I coulda died right then and there," Marty said, flicking his cigarette away and exhaling a gray-blue cloud of smoke. "Yessir, almost did, too,' he cackled.
A huge crash of thunder crackled nearby and they jumped apart, sweaty, confused, dazed by the sex and lightning. A few heavy drops of rain fell on the leaves above and the hiss of heavier rain moved closer along the ridge.
"Damn," Jason said. "Gotta go." And he turned and ran down the path and disappeared.
The rain poured down, soaking Marty and leaving his clothes a muddy mess. He picked them up and turned back toward the ledge. Standing in the middle of the honeysuckle circle, he jerked his cock once, twice, three times and spurted gobs of cum into the air. Then he looked up and screamed at the sky, the rain washing away his tears and sobs and cum. He dressed slowly and went home.
"So, ever since that day, I sit here on this hill and wait for Jason to come back," Marty says with his half smile. "I know he'll come back. I just know it."
To be continued . . .
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