Park Life
By StormWriter
This particular Saturday morning Paul could not face the world. What with a bad day at work and his housemates keeping him up until the early hours with their loud music and constant chatter. They were not bothered that they did not get to bed until three in the morning because they only needed to get up early once a fortnight to sign on the dole. Paul was the only one with a job and although he enjoyed the others' company he wished they would cut him a bit of slack during weekdays.
At seven in the morning his alarm had gone off. With one slow lumbering movement his arm reached over and hit the off button. He mind was kicking itself for forgetting to switch the damn thing off, but the damage was done. Paul was awake and with his eyes firmly open, he surveying the dingy room he rented. Peeling wallpaper, damp and cracked plaster was not his idea of a great place to live. He had done his best to cover the worst bits with the posters he had accumulated during his time in student digs.
What a step up, he thought. Spending three years studying and living in grotty rooms with the false promise that at the end of it he would find a descent job and a nice place to live. But, like virtually every other student, he had graduated and had to take whatever job was offered to him first. In this case a low skilled post as an admin assistant. But the thought that around the corner was a job with which he could be proud, and with that in mind he scoured the local press daily waiting for that elusive advert which caused that glimmer behind his eyes saying, I want that job.
Never one to lounge in bed, Paul threw the covers of him, grabbed a towel and in his boxer shorts padded to the bathroom where he showered and shaved to fully waken himself.
Back in his room and fully towelled off, he sat naked on his bed staring blankly at a wall. Paul felt a piece of him die everyday he stayed in his dead end job and every night he slept in the terraced slum he refused to call home.
With a sudden rush of decisiveness he threw on a pair of running shorts, vest and sweatpants. He was going out, he would get some fresh air before the daily grind of Saturday life began. Grabbing his backpack he threw in his wallet, keys and a towel. Slipping his feet into his laced trainers, Paul bolted for the door and a little piece of freedom.
The bus dropped him a few hundred yards from the park and he walked leisurely in. For many the park was a piece of the country in the middle of their built up town. Of course when it was created by the Master of the Grand House centuries ago the entire area was countryside, but the sprawling city soon outgrew it's boundaries and swallowed up much of the green fields.
Paul began to walk along the long driveway that led to the large Mansion House, which was turned into a museum long ago. The mansion stood raised above its grounds on a grassy hill and surrounding the house was acres of woodland and fields where deer would roam freely. Mostly they kept away from the human visitors but it felt liberating to feel that you were sharing the same space as the beautiful animals.
Paul found a bench, sat down and removed his sweats. He stuffed them unceremoniously into his backpack and put his arms through the straps. He was ready.
For the next hour Paul ran along the paths in the grounds and though the woodland occasionally seeing the odd person walking their dog before finally feeling the need for a rest. He returned to the front of the park and placed his towel on the dew damp grass of the slopes in front of the House. Lying there he closed his eyes and, unintentionally, dozed off.
He had no idea how long he had been asleep but what woke him was a cold wet snout sniffing him, everywhere. He opened his eyes and saw a large black Labrador sniffing at his crotch. Paul quickly recoiled at the shock and sat up, frightening the dog which jumped away from him and started looking him in the eyes curiously, wondering what this man will do next.
Paul soon relaxed, "Ah, come 'ere you cute little thing." But the dog stayed. "Come on, come on." He patted is bare legs and the dog inched close enough for him to stroke him. It only took a few seconds but the two seemed to be good friends and the dog loved the attention.
In the distance Paul could see a man jogging uncomfortably in his direction, carrying a lead and calling the dog, something Paul could not quite make out.
As the man got closer Paul could hear him. "Sorry, Mate. Megs got spooked by another dog and ran off. She's usually quite good but some of the others round here are quite aggressive".
The man crouched down by his dog and fussed over her.
"It's alright. She's a lovely dog. What's her name?"
"Megan."
Paul then stroked the dog, "Hi, Megan. I'm Paul"
"Tom. By the way."
"Hi, Tom." Paul looked into the green eyes of the slim young man crouching in front of him but quickly looked away and for a split second his eyes fell on the faded and worn denim of the man's crotch. He was very cute, thought Paul. His hair was a light shade of brown cut short, but not too short. Paul liked it. It had enough length so that you could run your fingers through it and feel each strand gently feather your palm. Then there were those emerald eyes that led you to his soft and tender soul. Paul felt that he was dangling, waiting for this man to reel him in.
This sudden sense of bashfulness was not lost on Tom and he was picking up on every sign and he was not about to throw this one back. It had been some time since he had had a boyfriend and this was a chance he was not going to miss. As soon as he clapped eyes on his slender frame, toned legs and dark features he wanted more. And when he got closer he lapped up everything about Paul from his uncertain glances to the smell of fresh sweat emanating off his body.
"Why don't you join us for the rest of our walk. Megs has taken quite a shine to you, and you her by the looks of it."
Paul smiled. It had been sometime since he had the company of a pet, ever since he had left home to study and he seemed to be making up for it on Megan. Mind you she was not complaining she was a big softy who loved all the extra attention. "Why not?" He replied, got to his feet and bundled the towel he was lying on into his backpack.
Tom led them back to the path and they began strolling through the grounds, Megan darting in front and behind and occasionally brushing up against Tom's legs.
"I don't think I've seen you jogging here before." Tom started the conversation.
It had only taken a few minutes with Tom for Paul to forget about everything that was worrying him. This man had a manner that was warm and enabled him to relax in his company. They talked mostly about themselves, getting to know each other. Paul explained his current life, devoid of any excitement or pleasure, which made Tom slightly uncomfortable when he said that he was doing quite well, a job he liked and a reasonable home. It was not exactly what he had envisaged when he left University but it would do for now, he explained to Paul.
Talking to Tom, Paul felt invigorated and got a new lust to achieve something more. Even if nothing more came of this moment, even if he never met Tom again he felt that his life would change for the better - and he would do it for himself.
They had been walking for sometime and were now deep along the woodland path. Tom turned to Paul. "You look pretty hot, Paul." He said.
"I know, it's the hour of jogging earlier and now the sun's starting to warm up."
Tom looked ahead and just smiled to himself. "Come this way." He said to Paul as he left the path and went a few yards in to the trees. He stopped by a particularly large oak tree with a wide trunk and it's roots pushing the ground up so it was uneven.
When Paul reached him, Tom began to inch closer to him. Paul instinctively began to move backwards, he stumbled over a protruding root and fell against the trunk. With no where else to move, he straightened himself up and looked into Tom's eyes as he kept inching closer. Then he stopped, their faces nearly touching. Paul could feel his breath on his cheek and then Tom spoke.
"I said, you look pretty hot." And he placed his hand on Paul's fleshy crotch and gently rubbed.
Paul groaned quietly and Tom closed that last tiny gap between their lips and gently kissed his moist lips.
After a few seconds, Tom ended the tender kiss and looked into Paul's eyes. They were neither scared nor angry, not even upset. They simply looked into his, longingly, wanting this to continue.
Tom began to kiss him again, this time more passionately, and he opened Paul's lips slightly to enable his tongue to explore. He kept gently caressing Paul's now firm crotch that tented the flimsy cotton shorts he was wearing.
He then slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband of his red shorts. Noticing the lack of underwear, he teased the dark pubic hairs before he wrapped his fingers round the hot, clammy, rigid dick that begged to be set free and slowly pumped until it could not get any harder. Next he teased the low hung balls in their soft skin, all the time their lips and tongues were not parted.
Just feeling his hot groin was not enough; Tom wanted to taste it. He slowly dropped to his knees and pulled Paul's shorts down to his ankles, releasing an angry nine-inch rigid dick that pointed straight into his face. The head was half covered with his smooth foreskin but he could see it was red and angry and waiting to be satisfied, small droplets of pre-cum oozed out causing the tip to glisten in the rising sun. With his left hand, Tom grabbed hold of those smooth balls again, teasing his cock that twitched in protest. His right hand then grasped the base of the thick cock and he gently kissed the drop of pre-cum that had emerged from the tip.
Paul groaned and looked down, his eyes were met by Tom's who smiled and then opened his mouth and took in the angry helmet into his mouth and pushed back the foreskin with his lips. Paul sighed, exhaling the relief that he had finally been touched where he wanted to be. He leaned back against the tree, closed his eyes and let the stranger excite all his senses back to life.
Tom teased Paul's dickhead and all it's ridges with his tongue, all the time feeling it twitch and jump at his touch. He heard Paul's breathing become more laboured and felt it time to take his entire length into his mouth. With one smooth motion he opened his mouth wide and swallowed all nine inches. Paul let out a stifled groan as he began to pump the silky cock and continued to play with his balls. Soon he felt the ball-sack tighten and feared that Paul was about to loose his load. As much as he wanted to taste his seed, Tom did not want it to end as a quick blowjob in the park. So he freed Paul from all sensation and raised himself off his knees. As he arose, he could sense Paul's knarled muscles relax.
After a long deep kiss, Tom turned Paul around so that he was facing the tree, and tracing the route down his spine with his tongue he parted Paul's round cheeks and teased his hole. Using plenty of spittle he moistened Paul's hole and breathed in his musk. The gentle feathering led to probing. Each stab into the sphincter caused Paul to grunt and his still rigid cock twitch. Tom's playing got more intense as he inserted one moist finger and pushed deep within, then two fingers. He was stretching Paul and the only resistance he felt was in that tight muscle he wanted to breach.
With the insertion of a third digit, Tom felt the muscle concede to his advances and knew it was now time. With one final flick with the tip of his tongue he got back to his feet. Put his arms around Paul and let his hand descend to give his hard cock a few gentle squeezes.
Paul turned his head so that he could see Tom's eyes. Paul smiled and they kissed. Tom broke off the kiss and spoke. "You OK with this?"
Paul nodded, turned his head back so he was facing the tree and braced himself.
Tom let go of Paul, undid his jeans and lowered the fly. He struggled to release his hard cock and hook his underwear beneath his balls. With his jeans gaping and his long uncut dick pointing straight towards Paul's crack, he closed the gap and prodded Paul's fleshy buttocks with the tip of his dick.
With a good mouthful of spit, he spat on his hand and rubbed it all over his cock and Paul's hole. Using both hands he spread Paul's cheeks so that he could see the red target. He eased his cock closer and docked with the eager hole. Holding on to Paul's hips he pushed firmly until the head poked through. Paul groaned and hung his head, He could see his own dick stuck in mid air, waiting to be touched and twitching in protest.
Tom slowly began push deeper until his pubes tickled Paul's buttocks. Stopping again, he could feel Paul massage his cock, trying to pull more into him. Tom then began to thrust his cock in and out, slow at first but he gradually sped up. Everytime his cock brushed by the sensitive prostate Paul would try to stifle his pleasure.
It was getting too much for Paul. Tom firm thrusts were taking him over the edge. His dick seemed to get thicker and angrier at every move. His breathing began to get shallower but Tom was relentless and neither stopped nor slowed. Paul's heart was beating furiously and sweat was streaming down his brow. One drop gathered on the end of his nose until, too heavy to remain, it fell. It fell and hit his cock directly on the head. As the warm droplet touched his dick his entire body tensed, his balls retracted and his cock furiously twitched. His cum shot out and hit the tree and Paul let out a long low sigh. With each thrust from Tom his dick would force out a little more and a little more until it dribbled from the end.
Tom knew Paul had come but continued to fuck him. He adored the way his bowels had tightened around his invading cock and he fucked harder and deeper. But with the pressure Paul put on his dick he did not last long. A few more thrusts he suddenly stopped. He let out a guttural grunt as his dick pushed his salty cum deep inside Paul. After the first explosion of cum, Tom gently thrust again, draining his dick of all cum, leaving it all inside Paul.
With his dick slowly deflating inside Paul, Tom draped his exhausted body over Paul and laid one gentle kiss on his neck. They stayed locked together as they recovered.
After a short while, Tom pulled out of Paul and tucked his limp, moist dick back into his underwear, zipped up his fly and button his jeans. As Paul bent down to pull up his shorts, Tom playfully slapped his arse cheeks. Paul turned around, grinned and tucked his own soft member into his shorts.
Paul picked up his backpack and Tom called out to Megan, who was busying herself exploring the wood. They got back on the path and continued their walk.
"What're you up to the rest of the day?" Tom asked.
"Nowt. Why?"
"Would you like to come back to my place?"
Thank you for reading. Comments are welcomed and gratefully received. Please email me at stormwriter@talesfromastorm.co.uk. The author retains copyright.