6/21/09

Aw, geez. Out in the 'burbs, and the two inevitable magnets pull me further, on beyond my original destination. The suck-woods, and my favorite XXX. The suck woods, sadly, are a bust. I've mentioned the layout before - the regular park up front, and the long road way off to the back of the park. Traditionally, the back road is closed during the winter because they don't want to bother plowing the road. But this summer, the back woods haven't re-opened. There's a couple sawhorses festooned with yellow 'Hazard' tape and a sign saying "Road Closed."

I am personally convinced that they're doing it because of all the illicit sex that goes on back there. Nice. Stupid, too. Lust is like hydraulic pressure: cut it off one spot, you're guaranteed it'll burst out someplace else. And when you re-open what you've cut off, everything's gonna flow right back again. Note to self: figure out where everyone's gone.

So the suck-woods were a bust.

But the XXX was humming right along. I didn't have a long time to mess around, but that was fine as my luck was with me. Target #1 walked in not 5 minutes after I did. 40ish, average height, average weight of a suburban dad who likes him some fast food. Not sloppy, not svelte. Dark blue t-shirt, and shorts & sandals. He hadn't spent a long time on his outfit this afternoon. Really nothing special to look at.

He ducks straight into a booth, leaving the door ajar. He knows the drill. I catch his eye, nod and I'm in. I reach for his crotch directly. "You want a blo?" He just nods yes and fumbles with his zipper. He quickly extracts about 4.5 inches of already hard cock. Thicker than most, not a skinny little thing. But not exactly a fatty, either.

He remains standing as I go to my knees. He lasts about 2 minutes under my ministrations. He's quiet, no warning that he's about to cum, just a warm rush in my mouth. Nice healthy flavorful load. He's not chatty afterwards, so I just button up and beat it. He drives off in a 5 year old Camry. He was not bad, overall. But nothing to get too excited about.

I've tasted cum, though. That's a good day no matter what.

A little more waiting nets me a much hotter guy. He's probably in his mid-50s, very fit. Tan, but the natural kind. And a glint of gold from his ring finger. He's got a very winning way about him. He checks me out sideways. I check him back straight forward. We start chatting in the hallway. He asks me where I come from. "The city. But I like to drop by here."

"Boy, you guys in the city - you've got Boystown, and everything."

We go back and forth in a flirty banter for a few minutes. He's fun. I'm enjoying this. If we were in a bar, I'd be thinking "I'm taking this one home." I keep looking at an obvious bulge in his shorts. I make it a point that he should notice where I'm looking. He gets faintly nervous as I get more forward, but he's clearly liking it, too. I suggest a booth. He resists slightly. We chat further, I leer further. He starts looking toward an open booth. I suggest it again, and this time, he's game. He steps in, and I follow promptly and immediately sink to my knees and bury my face in his crotch. I can feel his hard cock under there. It's not big, but it's decidedly hard and ready to go.

When I go it to extract the goods, he shoves his pants down and hauls out a shortish, thickish cock. No shaving, he's nicely hairy down there. When I start making toward his cock to blo him he turns me away. He's not going there. Curses! But he wants to wank for me, and wants me to wank him. He even wants to wank me. I snuggle close to him while giving him my very best hand job. He's very responsive and sensual, and starts kissing my neck, my ears. Oooooo, that's giving me chills. Good chills.

As always in situations like this, when I can't get the cock in my mouth, I suggest that maybe I can go down on his balls. Again, he acts reluctant, but when I nuzzle him and whisper in his ear, pleading, he relents. My face is buried in his hairy balls in no time. Sweet. His sack is taught across his nuts. Nice big nuts, I might add. Nice big sweet manly smelling nuts. Rarely have I been so happy just polishing the family jewels. He starts making noises like he wants to take a break. He promises we'll continue this shortly, and pulls up his pants.

When he steps out of the booth, I'm not sure what to do. Has he wearied of me? Is he afraid I'm going to push him into a blo-job he doesn't want (he oughta be afraid of that - I'd love to taste dude's seed)? He wanders off toward the other end of the room. (I should explain - this complex of XXX booths isn't arranged in a small spade in a tight row, as most XXXs are. It's a big warehouse-y space, with booths scattered about in pairs. Unusual, but nice, in that if you want to get away from some troll, you can just wander off to another area.)

I lose sight of him for a few, but wander in his general direction. And yup, soon enough, I find him waiting in a booth with the door ajar. Oddly enough, he's in the same booth (out of 36 or more booths, if memory serves) in which I had just 30 minutes before scored a load. He beckons me in. Good, he did just want a break. He's all over me. We're doing everything up to, but not including, swapping tongue. He's pawing my shorts, grabbing my ass, kissing my chest. He strokes my cock appreciatively, and with a good hand. I start nuzzling him again, whispering in his ear that I'd sure love it if he's up to take a taste of my meat. No, no. So I suggest my balls. He plays reluctant again, but breaks down as before.

And then he does the weirdest thing ever: he extracts a wet-nap from his pocket. "Do you mind?" he asks as he tears open the package. He mutters something about being married. I'm so surprised I just let him go at it, and he sinks to his knees andthoroughly swabs down my low hangers. And then he plants his face in my crotch. He tongues away happily for a good time. He's not a great ball licker, but I don't mind. He's clearly having such a good time, I'm happy too.

He rises suddenly. He's been wanking the whole time, and it's had its desired effect. "I'm getting close." I quickly sink to my knees and position myself directly in front of him. I quickly yank my shirt over my head, trying to convey that he might want to shoot his load on me. But no, Mr. Clean turns 90 degrees. I've got a front row seat for his ejaculation, but I don't get so much as a drop. When he's done I rise and start humping his hip. He's not a post-orgasm sensualist, though. He just wants to get out, really. He remains friendly and flirty, but he doesn't want to be touched any more. And my dick's no longer of interest. Some guys just switch off, and he's one of them. After a quick wipe-up, he's gone. He drives off in a Grand Cherokee.

Boy he'd be good stripped of inhibitions and tucked into a king-size bed a thousand miles from his wife.