I'd spent a couple chilly hours the night before at ManPark and it had been one of those rare times when no one came by, no dicks were sucked, no asses chewed, no hot breath traded. Not one to lose hope quickly I returned the following night and was as intent and horny as the night before, if not more so.
It wasn't early nor late evening but somewhere in the middle. The gates were still open and I was excited to see a couple cars parked on the winding road.
I'd entered the park from the main entrance. Taking the first turn onto the unused road, I'd been in the park less than a minute and already saw, out of the corner of my eye, someone following me down that road, forty feet behind me.
I waited until I was in the early shadows of Winter Grove to turn around and check him out more fully. He was average - about my age and height, plain but with a rugged edge, I thought in the dimness. I walked a bit farther into the shadows and waited for him to catch up to me. I wasn't sure if I could get hard that immediately but after the previous night's emptiness I didn't want to miss any chance this night.
He walked directly to me and put his hand on my crotch. I reached out to grab his ass and pull him closer to me and was surprised to feel the leather pants he was wearing over jeans, the crotchless leather kind, overgrown chaps. I tucked my fingers between the leather and denim and pulled his groin into mine.
He unbuttoned my shirt and went right for my nipples with first his fingers and then his tongue. Figuring he liked tit-play I unbuttoned his shirt and headed for his nipples. He immediately reacted and stopped playing with mine, enjoying what my thumb and forefinger were telling his brain via his nipple.
A few stray hairs were scattered across his chest. His bristly mustache was marvelously chafing my pecs.
Looking down to his dick I saw it was ample, not overly large or photogenic but tasty-looking. I leaned forward and he pulled himself away but continued to stroke my cock, bobbing back and forth on my nipples with his tongue.
His grunts and unconscious whimpers indicated he was enjoying himself but his face never lost its hardness and seriousness. A few more times I leaned forward wanting to plant my taste buds on his waving wonderpole but each time he'd withdraw, staying at arm's distance, letting me stroke it and torture his nipples, no more.
The nipple play seemed to turn him on most so I concentrated on that while I continued to enjoying jacking him off. He soon gave up playing with me, closing in on a climax.
His rough face got a bit more menacing as he grimaced and his eyes closed into the private world where he was about to shoot. I was biting on his nipples harder than I'd allow anyone to bite mine, and he was was reacting to each bite with, "Yeah." Each "Yeah" was getting louder and I wonder if we'd draw a crowd.
Finally came a bite to his nipples that, instead of causing a "Yeah," caused him to push my face harder into his chest. I felt the moisture of his precum reach my forefinger just as he shot a load against my bare pelvis. His hips thrust involuntarily a couple times before he opened his eyes.
Like someone waking from a dream, he looked around, not stopping when he saw me but continuing to reorient himself. He didn't look back to me but reached down to pull up his leather overpants and zip up. Still hard and not having yet come I wondered if he'd just take off and he did just that, giving me a last glance and nod that implied, "Thank you."
Had I been there a long time I'd have been frustrated but I was newly arrived. Hell, it was early. I headed back to my favorite tree for the first time that evening. Walking past the tree on The Point I saw someone there in the shadow, a big guy, fairly butch. His bulk wasn't offensive but was immediately noticeable. I continued on to my tree.
From immediate action I was thrown back to twenty-four hours earlier, alone and chilly at my favorite tree. It was quite a while before even a first person came by and then it was The Jogger, a porcine man I see sometimes there that is one of only a few men I consider off my list. It's not a personal thing, I just imagine his cock to be slick and slimy like a dog's.
After long enough of being alone at my favorite tree I began to wonder about returning to the tree at The Point and checking out that guy again. He wasn't obese, just large. I figured he must like putting things in his mouth and I had just the hot dog.
Just as I rounded the bend at The Point, he was leaving. He stopped when he noticed my arrival. I stopped where he'd been positioned much earlier and for as long as I'd been at my favorite tree. Still undecided about him, I made a minimal gesture of hand to crotch and he responded quicker than a dog to a bone.
I wasn't nearly hard yet and was uncomfortable with him realizing that, especially with the hard, thick cock he immediately brought out of his pants. A few quick handshakes with it and I felt immediate reaction in my own and put aside my hesitation.
As soon as my hesitation was erased, he went to his knees to indeed fill his mouth with my hot dog. And he knew how to savor it well. He was slow but insistent and I knew right away that he wanted it to last.
We found a comfortable rhythm of me fucking his face awhile then easing off and letting him do the moving. Wanting a bit more pleasure than his avid mouth, I reached down and into his shirt to check out his chest but was disappointed that he was smooth as a honeydew.
With a little bit of crouching I could reach his big rod, though, and did. It was plenty big around and I hoped I get a chance to see if it fit my small mouth. His mouth was still doing wonders on my own pulsing hardon. He changed from deep throating me rapidly to working his tongue around my knob.
At least four or five times I was ready to come but he sensed it and let up on me. I was enjoying the suspension of an orgasm, happy to let this wet wonderful friction go on.
The Jogger came by and stopped a few feet away which caused some withering of my hardon. I'm usually pretty tolerant of on-lookers but have been motioned away - and obeyed - often enough to feel badly about doing so now to The Jogger. He stayed but stayed his distance. Knowing how cold it was out I couldn't deny him the bit of pleasure he might get from watching me resume fucking the wet mouth that had not left my dick.
Again he almost had me coming. I squated again and got my hands on his hefty piece of meat, barely able to get my hand around it. He'd been only intermittently jacking himself off and regarded my hand almost absently. I gave him a few slow strokes, concentrating on the moist head. Thinking about nibbling at that dew, I knew I was about to come.
"I gotta," I whispered hoarsely and he leaned back, wanting to watch me shoot the load he'd worked to hard to bring about. I was still in a slight crouch and he kept his warm breath inches from my balls as he jacked me off the few last strokes. My load shot onto his forehead and nose, sliding down his cheeks and into the inside of my pantlegs wrapped about my ankles. He quickly began to lick and suck at my balls, rolling his come-covered cheeks against my thighs and up into my pubic hair. He let my limber cock roll over his face while he started jacking himself off very rapidly.
"Come on me," I commanded, standing more and leaning back to the tree. The Jogger took a step forward but stopped immediately when I turned my head and looked him squarely in the face. The other guy was trying his best to ignore The Jogger's presence altogether and continued to do so at this crucial moment.
With my hand planted under his balls and a finger barely tickling his asshole, he suddenly came onto my belly and cock. Again a few splats went onto my pantleg and I felt a few on my ankle as well.
"Wow" and "whew" were our verbal reactions as The Jogger made a very sudden exit. "That was nice," one of us said, I think it was me.
A minute later, we'd put ourselves back in order and he walked away to the right. My path was to the left and down the long back staircase and out of ManPark.
As I walked down the hundred and twenty-three steps, come, either his or mine or both, brushed against my thighs and calves, keeping me warm until I got home.