Saint Patrick's Day

SAINT PATRICK'S DAY BY JIMBO

Everyone in town seemed to know about "Fairyland Forest." This park conveniently located near the intersection of the two major interstates in town and featuring three parking lots, much undeveloped forest with streams and cliffs, and convenience for the gay population who rushed to its covers all all hours of the day and night in spite of the constant park ranger patrols.

I liked to think that this kind of quick, anonymous sex behind a convenient bush with a stranger was beneath me. But who am I kidding? I had had my share of vigorous, passionate cocksucking behind trees, bushes and rocks. But that was before Patrick.

All the resident queens seem to know Patrick, but although several claimed to have actually seen his legendary cock, none seemed to have actually had it. Patrick was liable to be in the park parking lot at any time of the day or evening. He would sit, sometimes for hours, in his little red pick-up truck watching the activity but never participating and only rarely leaving his truck for a quick trip to the outdoor johns followed immediately by a stream of queens dying for a look.

Patrick looked a lot like Tom Selleck except that his hair and moustache were pure white. I suppose he could have been anywhere from thirty-five to seventy, well-preserved years old, but no one cared about age when they looked at Patrick. He was about six feet three inches tall and probably weighed about 195. He didn't have a gym-built body and laughed at the thought of routine exercise. He had the kind of natural musculature that comes with genes and hard manual labor. He wore jeans winter and summer...well-worn, tight fitting jeans. In the winter they were accompanied by a white tee shirt and black jacket. In the warm weather, they were cut-off jeans and a tank top. When he walked the movement of his body was pure poetry...erotic poetry. His smile could light up the park and his laughter was absolutely intoxicating.

The more I watched him, the more obsessed I became with him. I found myself hanging around the park at all hours, making up a vazriety of excuses to get out of the house, just so I could look at him. But soon, that wasn't enough. I got brave and pulled up next to him and struck up a conversation. He told me his name was Patrick and that he lived in a small town outside the city with his wife and her two poodles which he hated. He confessed that he spent as little time at home as possible. He ran a delivery service and had a reason for being in the park. He used it as a base and when he was paged or got a call on his radio he went off to deliver "anything legal anywhere within a hundred miles."

"What if you get a call to go that far away in the evening?"

"I've never had a problem finding a bed."

"You know what goes on in this park don't you?"

"Everyone in the city does."

"Does that bother you?"

"Why should it?"

"You mean...you've had your cock sucked?"

"Sure. Lots of times. When I'm in the mood, I can't get enough of it."

"How will l know when you're in the mood?"

"You mean, you're interested?"

"Isn't everyone?"

"Okay. One of these days. Gotta go now."

Some days if the weather was nice he'd get out of the truck and lean up against it with his radio in his hand. His basket was phenominal. I couldn't take my eyes off it. He'd move around and sometimes rotate his beautiful butt on the side of the truck letting me see that there was nothing between his dick and those jeans and that the jeans were performing a heroic duty to keep it in. He knew that I was looking and he enjoyed it.

One cool but sunny afternoon in the fall he had been polishing his truck and I got to look at his body from every angle. It was late and the sun was ready to drop below the horizon when he walked completely around the truck and when he returned to my side I saw that he had opened his fly and the largest, most beautiful, most perfectly circumcized and formed cock in the world was hanging out. He paused just outside of my reach and gave me a good look. Beneath his sharp tan lines, I saw that the glorious bush of pubic hair was white too. My mouth and eyes were wide open, but to no avail.

"Thanks for keeping me company. Gotta go now. You can have more later. I like you. So long now."

Nothing else happened until a cold day in December--again near the end of the day. No one else seemed to be around and we talked sitting each in our own vehicles for almost an hour. Then suddenly he popped out of his truck and walked toward the men's toilet.

"Gotta take a piss. Wanta help?"

Did I ever. I jumped out of the car and quickly followed his beautifully undulating butt into the john even though I despised being a john queen. Inside he did what he said he was going to. He pissed an endlessly long stream. When he had finished, he turned with hands on hips, his fly completely open and his magnificent equipment on full display. I reached out and began to fondle that amazing tool and felt it getting hard. In erection, it was beyond belief.

"I hate to get started on something like this. Once I get going I can never seem to stop."

"Is that bad?" I asked with heart pounding, pants tenting, and head spinning."

"Depends. I'm a real hedonist. Once I get on the pleasure boat, I keep going until I'm satiated and that can be a long time."

"I'm yours forever," I said with schmaltz as I bent hoping to take this wild thing in my mouth.

Before I could do anything further, we heard a car pull into the lot and realized it was time for the rangers to make their check. Quickly he put himself together and darted out.

"Be here New Year's Eve about 3:00 in the afternoon, " he said as he left.

He was pulling out of the lot before I left the john and the old queen whose car had broken us up came in and asked to blow me.

"Forget it," I said, "that'd be going from the sublime to the ridiculous!"

On the afternoon of New Year's Eve, I spent most of the afternoon waiting in the lot. No one else was there when his truck pulled in to the lot. He pulled up beside my car with the window rolled down, leaned out and said, "Go park your car in the other lot and walk back."

I quickly did what he said and when I got back he invited me into his truck for the first and only time. He had his jacket off and was wearing jeans and a soft cashmere sweater. I climbed in beside him and immediately began to run my hands over his powerful thighs and up to the famous package.

"Oh, that feels so good. You have nice hands. I like hands...on my body"

"Is it okay if I try to get under those clothes?"

"Oh, yeah...play with me...please...play...with ...me..."

I slid may hands under the sweater and for the first time allowed my trembling hands to fondle the chest I had admired so long. I leaned forward and began to kiss his chest and suck on his nipples. He moaned and groaned so loud I thought that all of the cops in the city would be on us, but he knew his timing...no one was around at that time on a snowy New Year's Eve.

I unbuttoned his fly and let my eager hands roam over his museum quality erection. He moaned even louder and began to thrust his body up and down as I kissed his abdomen and worked my way to those huge, musky smelling balls. I buried my nose and my mouth in this smell that can be found no where in the world except in a man's crotch and no crotch in the worl was as appetizing as this was. I started to take his huge, mushroom shaped head into my mouth, but he said, "No, take your time. Play with me. I love to be played with. Use those beautiful hands on me. Use your tongue. Save your lips and mouth til I'm ready. Do all of me. Do me. I want all you got. Eat me. Eat me. I gotta go back to my rich wife and those damn dogs soon. Eat me. Feel me. Play with me."

I didn't need the urging. Abandoning all caution, I soon had his sweater off in the truck and his jeans down around his ankles. I fondled, licked, kissed, and caressed and he seem to continue to get hotter and hotter if that was possible. It was like he was drugged and his whole body was thrusting and undulating like I had never seen before. Suddenly, he grabbed my hair and pushed that amazing prick into my throat and fucked my mouth as he actually screamed in a wild sexual frenzy. When he came spurt after spurt of creamy white,delicious come flowed into my throat as I sucked for more and more. Even after he had come, he continued to thrust and amazingly stayed hard.

"More...more...do me some more...I need some more..."

His whole body was in motion and that magnificent obelisk soon to become my own magnificent obsession was thrusting away. I continued to work on his beautiful body...how can I call it work...as he lay back on the seat and thrust away. He came a second time like the first and then suddenly sat up and pulled his clothes on.

"That was great. Thanks. Rangers will be here soon. Better get out of here. Want a hug before I go?"

I couldn't believe that last,but when his arms encircled me and held me close, I felt myself coming in my pants and wondered how I would explain that stain to my wife. He drove off and I didn't see him again for a couple of weeks. When I did, there was no mention of what had happened New Years Eve and no reoccurrence. But there was a lot of conversation and Patrick proved capable of discussing almost anything from carpentry to Marcel Proust, from sailing (he owned a boat) to ballet, from politics to which park queens liked most to be butt- fucked.

"How large is your boat?"

"Large enough to sleep four...eight if they're friendly...twelve if they're real friendly. Once we got eight of us into the shower at the same time."

"Male or female?"

"That'd be telling."

The more conversation we had, the more obsessed I became with him. I kept asking to "do lit again," but he would laugh and say that I was too good to be fucked in a truck. Wait till the time is right he said over and over again as he smiled contagiously and occasionally opened his truck door briefly to give me a glimpse of him sitting there with his pants around his ankles.

"You make me hot just thinking about what a good cocksucker you are," he would say, "but the next time we are really gonna do it right."

Finally on an occasion like this in March, he mentioned that Saint Patrick's Day was coming up on Friday and he always celebrated his namesday. When I asked how, he replied, "the only proper way...lots of beer and lots of sex."

"And what does your wife say about that?" I tactlessly asked.

"I really don't ask her. She goes her way and I go mine. I pay my dues my way and she pays hers with cash. I've had the namesday privilege longer than we've been married, and this year it's three days."

"What do you mean? Three days."

"Saint Patrick's Day is on a Friday this year. You don't suppose I'm going home that night. I'm going to raise hell the whole damn weekend."

"Wish I could join you," I replied with melancholy and resignation. "My wife's going to Pittsburgh to visit her sister for the weekend and I'll be home alone with the dogs."

"Then why don't I keep you company?" he replied with a twinkle.

"Do you mean it? " I had never brought anyone to my home before. It was my promise to my neglected wife. And since this was a week ahead of time, I knew he would forget in the week to come.

"Sure. Write your address down. What time does she get out?"

"She leaves on Thursday night."

"I'll see you the next morning. Have plenty of beer on hand."

I held out little hope that he would be there, but I got in a couple of cases of beer even though I never touched alcohol myself. Friday morning I showered, dressed casually, ate breakfast and waited broken hearted for a visitor I knew would never come. But at promptly ten o'clock the door bell rang.

As I approached the door, I couldn't believe what I saw through the leaded glass door. Patrick was there wearing the shortest cut-off jeans I'd ever seen and a tank top. It was a bright sunny day, but March 17th is not that warm on the Great Lakes.

"Where's the beer?" he said as he sauntered in.

I handed him a bottle of beer and watched spellbound as he began to drink it leaning against a kitchen counter. I looked at those fabulous long legs and at the amazing package that topped them. I reached out and ran my hand up his hairy thigh.

"Whoa! Wait a minute! No rush! We got the whole day. Let me have another beer."

As he drank the second beer, he hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter and spread his legs. I moved in between and put my hands again on his thighs as I looked deeply into his sparkling blue eyes so full of laughter.

"You are a horny little bitch aren't you? Good thing I've been saving up for you for a week now."

I looked down and saw the bell-shaped red head creeping out below the bottoms of his shorts. I moved my hand up and used my thumb to gently carress the head and piss slit.

"That's the way. Take it slow. We got all the time in the world. Hey, you got a CD player. I like music with my sex. Gets me all worked up. How about you put on some Sibelius and some Rachmaninoff...I'm a romantic...and mix in a little Frank Sinatra and Elvis. You got all that? Fix it so it skips around. I like to mix it up."

I did the music as he liked it and then I slid my hand up under the tank top and it soon lay on the floor. I loved the feel of my hand as it traveled slowly over his smooth, tanned chest. As I continued to manipulate the head of his cock, I moved my tongue to his nipples and licked them until they stood up hard. I kissed my way up his chest to his neck, then his cheek, then his lips. His lips parted and I found my tongue exploring his mouth as I opened the buttons on his fly. His arms came around me as he slowly rose to his feet letting his shorts fall to the floor as he swept me up in his arms.

"Which way's the bedroom?" he asked.

In the bedroom he told me to strip. I wasn't wearing much and the sight of his beautliful naked body spread eagled on my king-sized bed was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Naked I knelt between his legs and began to kiss, lick and fondle every inch of his body. He moaned and writhed and groaned and pumped. He loved every second of it. But suddenly he swung his long legs out of the bed, jumped up and said, "Which way's the toilet? It's a beer thing. Not you. Gotta piss all the time when you're drinking beer."

Naked he walked out to the kitchen for another beer after he had let out an unbelievably long stream into the toilet. He polished off that beer before flopping back on the bed saying, "Hey, nice shower! We gotta use that a few times before I leave!"

I was more intoxicated than he ever got as the sound of those magic words, "a few times." This would not be a "slam, bam, thank you, mam."

His first load wasif anything, even larger than that first one in the park, and after he had almost drowned me in his tasty spunk, his gorgeous cock remained firm and he was ready to go again. After the second load, he said, "Let's take a shower now."

In the warm water he put his arms around me, pulled me close and whispered, "I ain't no cocksucker and no one has ever fucked my butt, but I won't leave you completely unsatisfied." With that he moved his big hands to my butt cheeks and began to grind his huge organ against my stomach simultaneously rubbing his body against my throbbing meat. In only a couple of minutes, we were coming all over each other.

I lathered his body and relished the exquisite sensation of his skin under my smooth palms. He returned the favor and I was thorouoghly aroused when he stepped out of the shower and handed me a towel. I dried us both and he walked naked into the kitchen. Conservative suburbanite that I was I kept worrying what the neighbors would think, but he was completely uninhibited as he dug through the refrigerator looking for stuff to make us sandwiches. We sat naked at the kitchen table and talked as if this were something we did every day.

Then he got up and dressed and left, but not before saying, "This has been great. I'll be back later. I owe it to my public to meet with them on my namesday."

I never expected to see him again, but I was so grateful for this opportunity for for the most exciting experience I'd ever had. It was a dull afternoon and a duller evening of television watching, but I couldn't leave because he just might come back. Finally, telling myself I should be grateful for what I had had, I went to bed alone.

Very, very early the next morning (around 2:00 A.M.) I heard the doorbell. Cautiously I went to the door and saw Patrick there in the same abbreviated costume. "Told you I'd be back. I've done my duty and we have the whole weekend now. Only my truck broke down and I hitched a ride with my buddy Lenny here and I told him you'd suck his dick if he brought me here."

My prudish, conservative nature was horrified until I saw Lenny staggering up the walk. Unlike Patrick, his was a gym built body and I had seen him there a few times. But his beautiful body was covered with hair. He had a handsome face and his moustache and sideburns were gray. He was walking up the sidewalk with his hand on his crotch and the same silly, stupid grin on his face that little boys get when they have to ask the female teacher if they can go pee.

They came into the house and the first words I heard from Lenny were, "Can I come in your mouth?"

"Sure, but I think you better go in there and pee first so you know what you're putting where," I said.

While he was in the john, Patrick put his arms around me and said, "I'm sorry. But he's okay. He's been talking about how much he wanted a blow job for as long as I've known him and that goes back quite a few years."

Lenny came back into my living room with his shirt open down the front and his big, semi hard dick sticking out of his fly. "What's the matter with you?" Patrick said. "Ain't you got no manners? Take off all your clothes for the man. He ain't no john queen that you stick through an open fly and run. He gets to play first!"

Wide-eyed, Lenny (whom I found out later was none too bright) apoligized and stripped almost simultaneously. Patrick led him into the bedroom, turned on the lights and pushed him onto the bed. "He's all yours. I can wait. I'll watch while you enjoy it."

I began to work on Lenny's beautiful hairy body while I looked at Patrick's smooth one. This whole situation was beyond my wildest dreams. I was sure it wasn't real, but it was. Lenny went wild at every touch and when I started working on his cock he became almost hysterical laughing and crying and thrusting and giggling all at once. In no time at all a huge load flowed down my throat. I remember thinking that I wouldn't need any nourishment for weeks after all the come I was swallowing.

When he had come, Lenny began to cry out, "Oh that was great...do it some more. ..suck my dick...eat me...I want more."

Patrick sat on the edge of the bed and laughed. "Make the man happy," he said. I'll manage quite well. Lenny had squirtmed in his drunkeness into an odd position. As I started to work on his meat, I realized that my own cock was near his mouth. Before I could think, Lenny had shoved my face down on his thrusting meat and I was laying with my own cock on his hairy chest. I saw his huge hairy legs coming up in the air and then realized what was happening. I workeded my fingers innto his butt cheeks and when I had him warmed up helped Patrick to slide that huge meat into the channel. Lenny was so hot and so drunk that he kdidn't even realize he was being fucked. But I knew what was happening when I felt my own load spilling out over his hairy chest.

When the three of us were spent, Patrick suggested that he thought the three of us could fit into the shower. We did and it was great, but Lenny sobered up considerably in the shower, and by the time he had dried off was somewhat flustered and embarrassed.

"Isn't your wife going to be worried about you coming home so late?" Patrick asked him. Shaking his head, Lenny hurriedly dressed and rushed from the house. I saw him several months later at the gym in the shower, and his dick stood at attention when he saw me. We became reacquainted in his truck that day and still see each other occasionally.

When he had gone, Patrick and I went back to bed and actually slelpt in each other's arms. When we awakened in the morning, we lay there together quite a while just talking. "I wouldn't mind walking out on the old lady and sailing my boat around the world. I don't care if I ever see those damn poodles again."

He spent Saturday and Sunday with me. We never bothered to dress, but it wasn't all sex. We talked and listened to music and cooked and ate. This was the dream lover I had always hoped for. But after many showers and meals and so much sex that my own penis and balls ached, he said goodbye early Sunday afternoon and I set about putting the house back in order before my wife returned that afternoon.

I never saw Patrick again, but I always keep hoping on Saint Patrick's day. I hope also that wherever he is that he is happy. If he is reading this, I hope he knows that I think of him every day and remember the best sex I ever had.