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This is a work of fiction. All characters mentioned in this story are over the age of 18.
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The Bridge
I was feeling horny one evening so decided to hit up this one cruising spot in town. It's kinda tucked away in an industrial zone of the city and during the day you wouldn't know anything out of the ordinary goes down there. But once evening hits, and the shadows appear, this nondescript industrial zone turns into one of the seediest and debauched cruising areas still left.
It was already well-past sunset when I crossed the small clearing leading from the park and stood on the small bridge overlooking the stream.
Even though the sun had set, the evening still had that twilight look separating night from day. Light enough to still see folks moving amongst the shadows and trees, but dark enough to hide all but the most obscene sex acts that were undoubtably about to unfold.
I spotted this tall, thin guy dressed in athletic wear. I couldn't tell if he was Hispanic or some other race, but he could certainly tell I was Black. He looked masculine and fit, and passed my sniff test. By that, I mean, on closer inspection I could tell he had come from the gym or from working out, because he had that ... scent. That smell ... something not quite ... fresh.
And I was here for it!
Upon closer inspection he was good-looking too!. Kinda dweebish (nerdy), and sporting a sly smile, complete with a thin, faint mustache on an otherwise hairless face. Before I realized it, he reached into his track pants and pulled out his dick.
My man!
I was thinking to myself "Damn, bro is kinda sexy ... and hung."
He wasted no time, walked over, and started feeling on my dick which had somehow been released from the confines of my shorts.
How had that happened?
What I liked about this cat is that he did none of that endless walking around and inspecting `the goods' that many tired cruisers play--waiting for the perfect man (which I clearly am not even though I feel I hold it together pretty well).
His actions said, "Let's get to the point!"
He moved closer and immediately put his dick on top of mine. "Oh shit. Grown man dick action!"
I could feel his hairy nuts with the tip of my dick, since his dick was resting on top of mine, and my dick was a little longer and reached a little further into his hot and warm undercarriage.
Standing face to face, we ground our hips together. He was standing so close I could smell him--it was a masculine body odor, a thoroughly male scent of sweat and sexual energy. A spicy, feral odor that says "I am aroused and want to bust this nutt!"
What's more I could detect the smell of his hairy balls in the humid night air. I could make out the scent of his nuts as the pheromones wafted up while we were doing that dick on dick action.
Again, I guess he was getting overheated, because he said he was close to cumming.
All the while, I am thinking to myself "Baby, hold that load. I ain't read to come yet. Your greased-up dick on top of mine feels so perfect. So ... nasty. I am enjoying this shit!"
But seriously, my dick was getting that tingling feeling letting me know an orgasm wasn't too far off.
So here we are standing on the bridge leading out of the clearing, folks walking by with THEIR dicks out and jacking off to the spectacle of us--but in that moment, I was only focused on him. Only focused on the exquisite feeling in our dicks and nuts. My nuts were churning, boiling, and ready to blast out a copious, warm, syrupy nutt. I wanted it. I could smelled it--him and me. I felt it in my dick ... and from his growls of satisfaction, he was feeling it too.
I was two-fisting our dicks together in one moment, then solo jacking them side-by-side, the next. Nothing like two dudes fucking each other's hands. His slicked-up dick with mine with it. Shit felt good, not gonna lie.
While he was sporting a dick only slightly-smaller than me, I'd say we were pretty-evenly matched in the length department and he was already precumming on my dick.
I ignored his second and third utterances that he was close. I was in a trance jacking his dick on mine. Damn, it felt good in my hand.
He had rubbed some sort of lube on his dick and it got on mine too--fuck ... I wasn't gonna last long either.
He said (again) that he was close to nutting, but I really didn't believe it. I should have though.
I had that "Spidey Sense" to pull away and it was just in the nick of time. Damn if he didn't start nutting like a firehose. Spurt after spurt. I counted 9, but honestly, I lost count and nutted soon after--lost in the grunts, groans, and that sweet relief only a nutt can give you. I was hearing and witnessing others on the bridge coming to climaxes as well, in a glorious union of blissful cum, groans as each of them shot their wads, one after another.
I finished jacking him off and his spunk had gotten all over my hand. I didn't have a tissue or a napkin handy, so I wiped it on my undershirt--I can be a nasty fucker.
We parted ways with him walking back into the night and me feeling more relaxed, standing on The Bridge, and watching the stars come on as night continued to fall.