Galahad - An anecdote -
Travelling South yesterday from Auckland to Tauranga, I stopped at a rest area by a lake an hour north of my destination. I went into the small public toilet (1 stall, 1 double urinal ) and sat in the cubicle looking through the GH at the urinal and quietly jacking myself. In the parking area had been a camper van with what looked like an elderly couple having a tea break, and a lone youngish guy in his car. I hadn't looked around too long, so as not to attract attention, and didn't know whether there was any chance of striking lucky. A shadow appeared on the floor, and then a guy stood at the urinal. I was frustrated because he stood so close, and I couldn't see much except jeans and what looked like an old grey woollen sweater. I didn't want to do anything too overt until I was a little more sure of the situation. Being Gay in NZ is legal, but sex in public toilets is not, and police do tend to set up entrapment scenarios. I was trying to see more - was he playing with himself? Abruptly, he moved away and went back outside. The time he spent there wasn't very long, and he could have been pissing or wanking, and I had missed my chance. I left a minute or so later and went back to my car. It was starting to rain lightly again, so I got in my car quite quickly.
The camper van was as it had been, but I noticed the car was still there, but now minus driver. I looked around and saw him standing beyond the toilet block, ostensibly looking at the lake, despite the fact that light rain was falling quite steadily. "Bloody Hell" was my immediate reaction. It didn't look like a police set up, so I put on my rain jacket, made a wish and got out of the car again - locking the door and "strolling" along the indistinct path. I didn't dare glance at the camper van, so I don't know if they noticed me or not. The guy was now out of sight, and I started to chicken out. However, as I had already armed myself with an "I needed to stretch my legs after 2 hours of driving, and the rain isn't that heavy" excuse, I continued on my way around the lake. He was just out of sight, sitting on a bench looking at the water. I strolled nonchalantly behind him and over a small footbridge. There are some thinly spaced trees, but I figured there was enough cover for a quick blow job if I got lucky. When I looked back, the seat was obscured by some trees, so I didn't know whether he was still there or not.
Now I'm in reasonable condition, but it can't be denied that I won't see 50 again, and now that he had seen me, he may have lost what interest he had had. Sure, he didn't look at me, but I perfected that trick years ago myself - you know - you don't look, but you can see if you really want to. I was beginning to think I wasn't fated to have any luck, when I saw denim through some of the branches. He was coming, so I headed a little more into the trees, but still completely visible to him if he was interested. He wasn't tall, but I still wasn't sure if he was the police or not.
Dammit - he stopped on the foot bridge facing away from me, so I moved a little further in still. I was starting to get worried, but I saw that he was about 30 and was quite sexy - beside which, I was as randy as hell by now. I started to play with my cock inside my track pants, and he glanced over several times, but made no other move in my direction. This was getting frustrating. I decided to pull my cock out and let him see me wanking - there's nothing too complicated understanding that situation, surely? At last he turned around, put his hand in his jeans pocket and started playing with himself. It looked very healthy to me, but he hadn't actually brought it out. He was about 6 metres away, and if he had shown me his cock, I would have moved closer, but as it was, I still wasn't sure if I were being set-up or not. Were his buddies in the camper van and now coming down the trail? I had only briefly seen a man in his late 60's, but others could have been sitting out of sight.
To add to my frustration, I was no longer hard, because I was nervous, so objectively, what he was presented with, was a grey haired 50 year old guy, under the trees, with a soft cock in his hand, not making any further moves. I wonder if he thought I was the fuzz? I don't look like a cop in my eyes, but who can tell? This is a small township, and he may have been as uncertain of me as I was of him. Then he stopped rubbing himself via his pocket, and strolled on over the bridge. Great, but he went to the trees on the other side of the path to me. Damn! It was only lightly drizzling now, but I thought I would give up and made my way back to the path. He had stopped in the trees on his side, and was standing with his arms folded, looking at the lake. He heard me coming out onto the path and looked my way. But he didn't smile, just looked briefly then looked away again. I decided to stroll past him, and stand in the trees closer to him - how subtle can one get? I was now about 2 metres away from him, and I put my hand down the waistband of my track pants and played with my still soft cock. He looked at me several times, but made no other moves. He then walked away and I thought, Oh well, I didn't pass muster. But dammit again, he stopped a few metres away, and carried on with the "occasional glance" routine, with his arms still folded. Finally, he strolled back down the path, over the footbridge and towards the parking area and toilet block. I though maybe he was heading back to the toilet, so I followed at a distance, but he carried straight on to his car and got in (the camper van was still there), but didn't drive away. I gave up at this point, got into my own car, and drove off to Tauranga. If you think you're frustrated by this tale, imagine how I felt. That night, I jacked off to the memory of the episode and thoughts of what might have been.
I returned to Auckland today (an overnight business meeting) still frustrated as hell, and my cock now relentlessly hard - where were you when I needed you? As I approached the rest area from the other direction, I made a point of seeing if his maroon car was there again, accompanied by the camper van. Nope - neither. There were however 4 or 5 cars, with families and children running around feeding the ducks and such. I decided to get a cup of coffee a bit further on and to come back after that and try one more time. This I did, and a car loaded with kids and dogs etc was pulling out just as I pulled into the area. This left only one car and it was empty. I wasn't feeling too optimistic, but I needed to have a piss anyway, so parked and went into the toilet.
The cubicle door was closed! Was I going to be lucky this time? I stood where my tease had stood yesterday and pissed. I have several fetishes, but water sports is not among them, so I cleared my bladder, while trying to peer through the glory hole. I couldn't see much, without risking pissing on my shoes, but what I could see was interesting. Red and grey striped briefs, pushed down to his ankles, and sports shoes, which seemed a fairly small size. One for, one against, as I'm not into paedophilia either. When I finally finished pissing (the coffee didn't help!) I shook myself dry, then did what my tormentor the day before should have done, I moved away from the hole to the far end of the urinal. Definitely a much better view. His knees were apart, although his hand was over his lap and it didn't seem to be moving. I was on more familiar territory now, and slowly started masturbating, and thank god, my cock behaved (or misbehaved) and got firm. I was just starting to twist and bend in order to see more, when the lock on the door changed from "engaged" to "vacant". The moment of truth. Was this a child (no thanks), was it someone who seemed dirty or threatening, would he see I was older and lose interest pronto?? You know that feeling - one of the big turn-ons with this sort of escapade. I mentally crossed my fingers, because my right hand was otherwise occupied and stepped back.
There was a teenage boy, sitting with his pants and briefs around his ankles, looking at me. Now I prefer older men, and this guy only looked about 18. I started to think - "no way", when he indicated with his head that I should join him in the stall. I was so horny by now, I would have gone with almost (!) anyone. I went in and locked the door behind me. It was a wheelchair access cubicle and there was plenty of room for me to stand out of sight if anyone else had come into the toilet then, without showing my feet to anyone unless they lay flat on the floor to peer under.
This young man was a beautiful but masculine specimen. I thought - "OK, he is horny and wants to shoot, and will settle for anything - probably with no reciprocation". That was OK by me, but then he stood up and moved closer to me, and reached for my cock while I was still locking the door!! Whoever he is, he has been brought up properly!
"What did he look like?" you may be wondering, if you have stayed with me thus far. I was in love with his thighs immediately. He had coffee coloured skin, but I don't think he had Maori blood in him - although that is sheer guess work. He looked Mediterranean, maybe Italian, maybe Iranian - who knows, but he had the Latino look that I jerk-off over on the net so often. I gave my all-purpose "I may not look much to someone your age, but I promise you a good experience" look, and he returned an amazing smile. I was so surprised, and he was groping me though my track pants. I had to run my hands over his marvellous thighs - taut skin over smooth well developed, verging on bulky, Quads, and with a moderate coating of fine black hair. I haven't felt muscles like that for a long time. His cock was a healthy 6.5, and that was more than fine by me, and was surrounded by a moderate growth of black pubic hair, including his balls. I know shaving your balls is supposed to make the hunks on the porn pages look like they have a bigger cock, but I LIKE licking balls with a hairy covering. He had no hair on his abdomen or chest, which is what makes me think he was (excuse me, I just had to wipe pre-cum off my keyboard - How did that get there?) relatively young.
This has taken much longer to write, than it did to happen, because by now, I had reached for his lovely cock with my left hand, and was feeling it tighten as I did so. I pulled my cock and balls over my waistband with my free hand, and he returned my ministrations. He had a remarkably delicate touch for one who seemed so young. Often (OK, not so often these days) I find that young guys are super vigorous and have a lack of technique which can be endearing, but which I don't really enjoy that much. The violent jerking of a stranger's hand can be quite uncomfortable at times, but this young man had learnt the finer points of masturbating and wasn't afraid to use them. I let go his cock, and ran my hands over his outer thighs, up to his abdomen and under his white T shirt. He was using his left hand to rub my chest through my own T shirt, and I have to admit I sucked in my gut so as not to put him off. I try to keep fit, but I have to admit that instead of a "six pack", I sport more of a "chateau cardboard" wine bladder if I'm not careful. Partly to avoid his coming to grips with my slightly softened abs, but mainly as a "thank you" for his invitation, I bent forward and started sucking his lovely cock.
Usually guys stand up straight and let me get down to it, hopefully enjoying the sensations I am able to produce. I love sucking and being sucked, and if you like doing something, you tend to get quite good at it. I meant to show him a good time, as compensation for not getting someone nearer his own age. But no - he immediately started running his hands over my shirt-covered back. I have yucky back hair, but he will never know that. Once again I was struck by his sensitive touch --I was getting two shots of pleasure - one from sucking this lovely dark cock, and one from the sensations he was eliciting by his ministrations. No, make that 3 shots of pleasure, because the mere fact of his reciprocating so soon, made me start to feel special. I ran my hands up and down his trunk, then progressed back to his thighs again. I used both hands on his right thigh, and gently ran the flat of my hands up and down his beautiful quads. I was enjoying myself immensely. Looking down as I sucked, I could see his red and grey briefs at a closer distance (another big turn on for me) and noticed he had cotton pants of some sort - a patterned blue material, with very little bulk. I couldn't tell if they were modern long shorts, or long trousers, but I didn't really care to be honest. My right hand slid up to his right inner crotch where it meets the thigh, and my left hand slid up to his butt.
BUBBLE BUTT!!! It is an overused phrase, but in this case it was the first thing to come to mind, and let's face it, I was not about to stop what I was doing in order to find a less hackneyed phrase. His Gluts were as muscular and tight as his quads, and were covered with fine hair. I wanted to bury my face in his crack and lick between his cheeks and really appreciate his fine rear, but I decided against this. I remember how unsettled I was the first time someone rimmed me. I actually asked the guy involved to stop, and he had thought he was giving me a treat. I wasn't very long in the scene, and this was too much for me. My, how we change. I didn't want to put off my lovely young man, when I was so ready to explode and didn't know how long he would stay with me.
Sure enough, around about this point, he pulled away. OK, well, it had been nice while it lasted, even though I had only just started. But no! I told you he was well brought up. He pulled my bent body into the upright position, grabbed the waist band of my pants and briefs, and dragged them quickly to mid thigh - obviously not an underwear fetishist, but hey, no-body's perfect. HE then bent forward and started sucking my cock.
Now I have to admit I was very surprised. Sure, if you're polite, when someone stops sucking your cock and stands up, that is the signal that it is your turn to reciprocate. But this young guy didn't wait for the formalities - he was apparently eager to suck my cock, and wasn't prepared to keep it one sided. I know it wasn't love I felt at that point, but man was I grateful - talk about spicing up one's ego. And get this!! He sucked as well as he masturbated! Not a sharp tooth, not a gag reflex, just smooth sliding up and down on my cock - and he wasn't beating himself off, he was gently massaging my balls and rubbing my thighs in return - such talent in one so young. Maybe he is really in his 20's and just well preserved, but my goodness, I was getting far more than I had anticipated. I ran my hands up and down his spine, then slid the hem of his T- shirt up his back to touch and feel the wonderful skin there. I slid my hands around his waist, and those taut abdominal muscles were just as lovely from that angle - he was a picture of healthy manhood. I reached further to feel his cock again, and gently played with it, and squeezed it, and slid my hand up and down the length. Believe it or not, I couldn't really tell if he had a foreskin, because he had that youthful hardness all this time and if a foreskin was present, it was not very long. My preference is for cut, but I wouldn't have objected - he was scrupulously clean. My feeling is that he was circumcised, because afterwards (see later), when he was squeezing the remaining cum from his cock, although skin went past the head, it was probably just being pulled up by the squeezing action. All in all, his body was a work of art - thank god I won't see him again because I could see me making a total fool of myself over him - not a good look!
All this time, I was still fairly nervous of someone coming in and catching us. To tell the truth, it also involved potential feelings of disappointment if this particular mood was broken. It was my turn to pull him back to the upright position -wouldn't you know he would be reluctant to stop?? I whispered the stock question "Is there anywhere safer?" I thought he said yes, but he misheard me, because when I said "Where" he admitted there was no-where suitable. I didn't like to suggest going into the trees outside, because with a fine day, the chances of passers-by were much higher, and I didn't just want to suck his dick poking over his waistband - no improvement on our present situation. He continued to rub my chest while we were whispering - I was so turned on. So I crouched in front of him, and began licking his inner thigh, up to his balls. They were lovely - drawn up tight in his ball sac, and covered by his fine pubic hair - black, clean and very very inviting. I licked either side of his balls, I licked his balls, I licked his cock and travelled up to the cock head and swallowed it again. This time, his thighs were right in front of me. I swallowed him deeply, and had the pleasure of feeling his thighs against my face. My hands slid forward and backward around his pelvis, and once again fantasised about rimming this perfect butt. I slid my hands around to the front again and stretched up to his pecs - not as developed as his wonderful legs (possibly a cyclist rather than a weight lifter) but still firm, manly and oh so desirable. He was rubbing my head (no. 2 crop) and my shoulders as I was enjoying his body, and once more I was aware how much we were able to share in these circumstances. If only I had had a Motel or something, but this was not an option in such a small town, where everybody is known. Once again, he stood me up (gentle, but FIRM) and returned to sucking my cock, and playing with my body. It sure as hell wasn't his first time sucking a cock - and he must have either had a good teacher, or was very aware of what people had done to him. When I stood him up, to look at him and enjoy his presence, I couldn't help telling him what a great body he had. In a way, it was almost an insult restricting my compliment to this one facet, because not only did he have a magnificent body, he was also devilishly handsome, had a great cock & balls, wonderfully sensitive hands and an overall technique which made me feel special.
And would you believe it, he gave another lovely smile and thanked me for the compliment. Not self deprecating, but appreciating being appreciated and thereby respecting my assessment. Whenever I used to get compliments (in the past), I would be so overcome with confusion, that I almost always said, "No I'm not", thereby questioning the other guy's honesty or taste or both. Acceptance of a compliment is a talent it took me many years to develop. This young prize package has got so many things going for him. I was really smitten (as I said, not seeing him again is probably best, but .....). As I couldn't offer him unlimited wealth, a rewarding career and eternal happiness, I settled for licking his stomach instead - which he seemed to like! I once more started sucking his cock and holding his legs, back, butt and anything else I could get my filthy paws on. He grabbed me by the waist, and I even forgot to be embarrassed by my incipient love handles, as I continued to enjoy his wonderful body.
Suddenly, he came in my mouth. No warning, no spasm of his body, no grunts - just that ripple in his cock that an experienced mouth can feel with lips and tongue. I was pleased, disappointed, surprised ... a mix of emotions. That hasn't happened for a long long time. No, I didn't swallow - I spat it out into the toilet - but I was reluctant, which surprises me. I am clean as far as I know, but I have modified my behaviour over the years, and expect others to have done the same - naive I know. But I would love to have swallowed this young man's cum - any damage would probably have occurred at the first spurt, so I don't know what I think I accomplished. I also didn't want to embarrass him (no fool like an old fool), but my first reaction was to spit once he had finished.. I think I regret this now, but hey - too late. (For future reference, I would like him to ask FIRST before coming in a guy's mouth. I loved it, although I was taken aback, but it really should be a joint decision.)
Another wonderful smile. He squeezed the remnants out as I mentioned earlier, and the next step should have been a friendly pat, trousers up , brief thanks and exit young Galahad - how many times in the past? Nope - he surprised me again. He beamed at me and started bringing my cock back to the boil with those magic fingers. By this time, we had been together about ten minutes, and I felt the danger of the situation was increasing. He had already given me a really great time, and I would have hated to jeopardised his safety more than necessary. I told him not to bother, and to leave before we were caught. Another wonderful grin, a "thanks" and he hauled up his pants. They turned out to be those cotton "weightlifter's" pants, which gave me a lift as a parting shot. He left, I re-locked the door and I heard him get in his car and drive away. I proceeded to beat off and came quickly.
As I continued driving north, I couldn't stop thinking about him. If only...
If only ... I had asked him if he wanted to go out into the park and have a chat. Stupid, eh? But guys in small centres are often very lonely, confused, and have no-one to talk to. I would hate to think of him going through the terrible times others have in such circumstances. I was lucky. Sure, I am of the generation that didn't openly come out until I was in my 40's, although I had been having wild sex for many many years - especially in toilets - but even then it was hardly a triumphant work of bravado. I had moments of depression, exhilaration, introspection - all that stuff, but I came from the biggest city in New Zealand, with a fairly cosmopolitan outlook and opportunities for fitting in. In retrospect, when I consider the number of young suicides around, I think I had it fairly easy.
If only ... I could know that he was OK. I have talked to some young guys over the years, and hopefully have been of some help in times of stress. If this guy needed a shoulder to cry on, it would be nice to think I was of some help. Not to be, sadly.
In the unlikely event that you are on the Internet, on this web site, have read this memoir (which has changed in character even as it was being written) and recognise yourself, I would love you to contact me - lrhco@hotmail.com . As an identifier - I remember the colour of your car! And which ear was pierced and how many rings! Even if you think I'm a stupid old fart, who took too long to suck you off in the local bog, that would tell me you were OK. But unless I truly am a stupid old fart, my guess is that you wouldn't have that attitude.
If only ... I can fantasise about you and me and my partner of 22 years (Oh yes) being in the same bed, but also having conversations.
If only ... you have a happy and fulfilling life with not too many "down" times.
What I don't regret is not coming while we were together. Shit, I have come so many times over the years - what's one more or less. As I have been writing this, I have realised what was just a jerk off story at the start has become something quite different. --- A lovely memory. Who says bog queens (I hate that expression) have no romance in their soul?
And in case anyone thinks I have totally lost the plot, I should point out that I have cum once again while writing this, and I am planning on yet another encore in the very near future. Concerned, yes. Pure?? NOT!!!! Jim(NZ)
PS - Hands up everyone who thinks this is fiction. Believe it or not, it is true - and quite a bit more revealing of me than I intended. I really don't give a flying fuck what you think, to be honest. :) I have gained something today which has made this weekend quite special, and whether you believe me or not is completely irrelevant. Anyway, you can jerk off at the physical descriptions, and consign the metaphysical to the scrap heap! :)