A night in the park

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A night in the park
We sat side by side on the cast concrete picnic table in the park. His hand gently crept up the inside of my leg. Every hair follicle on the inside of my thigh discharged to feed an electro-gasm of horny. His hand slid under the seam of my shorts, seeking, questing.

My own hand was busy at the juncture of his t-shirt and sweatpants. My fingers slid over the waistband to twine in the thick treasure trail that grew around his navel.

It was dark and the park closed in about an hour. We had to be circumspect. We could be seen from the road but the adjacent street light was out, casting us into shadows. We were visible but indistinguishable to the cars driving past.
I started to follow the furry river up his stomach to the rich tangle between his pecs.

“You’re headed the wrong way,” he growled softly.

Instantly I reversed course, my fingers scrambled under the waistband and struck throbbing pay dirt about the same time he did.

“I’ve got to stop wearing underwear,” I mused silently. Undeterred, his hand burrowed under the leg band. Thumb and finger encircled my balls. He tugged and my foreskin slid back. The fabric rubbed my exposed cock head and flare, igniting a thousand nerve endings.

We rubbed and pinched and played for a while, feeding the ravenous tension in our groins.

“Hold on for a second,” he said. He disengaged, kaçak iddaa got up from the bench and moved to sit on the table top. He faced me; his legs a V on either side of me as I leaned into his crotch. I warily eyed the traffic on the road, but not so much as a brake light hinted they saw us.

I started mouthing his bulge through the fleece fabric.

“Fuck that,” he said.

“But the porns show I’m supposed to…,” I protested with mock sarcasm.

“FUCK THAT!” He hooked the waistband under his hairy balls and thrust a thick, thick richly veined cock up to mouth level. My forefinger and thumb couldn’t encircle it completely. Average length, but extraordinarily thick. Uncut head smaller than the girth, a bead of cock drool glistened at the piss slit.

I scythed the bead of precum with my tongue, then began the lip stretch to get this flesh torpedo in my mouth and down my throat. I was determined to bury my nose in his cock hair. I willed myself to salivate enough to lube the way. I couldn’t. I backed off, frustrated.

“I’m hard to handle,” he said. “Most can’t do more than the tip.”

“You’re hard,” I replied. “That’s enough. Watch this.”

Laugh if you want to, but I fished in my pocket for a tube of petrolatum lip balm and that lubricated my lips enough to stretch around his cock and take the whole length into my mouth and kaçak bahis throat. He was patient. No thrusting. He knew I was struggling on his behalf.

Once I had engulfed his full length, I took a few seconds to get used to it, then started a slow bobbing up and down. There wasn’t enough room to use my tongue to lash the frenum and nerve endings on the flare. But this was getting the job done.

I detected ragged breathing after a few minutes. This wasn’t going to take long. I fed my own body hair fetish by running a hand up his stomach to his pecs. I found a nip encased in a jungle of chest hair and flicked it. He shuddered.
I didn’t increase my speed. Just slow, methodical and rhythmic slobbering up and down on his dick. Another flick; another shudder. Some guys nips are wired to their cocks. He’s one.

Suck, flick, shudder. Suck, flick, shudder.

“I’m close.”

Thanks for the alert, buddy. I want to take his load so I can taste it. That means dick tip on the front of my tongue where the taste buds are. Nothing beats the flavor of semen. It might be a struggle,though, because he loves it when he’s at full deep throat.

I backed off to flavor prime position, tugged on his ball hair with my other hand and flicked his nip again.
“I’m coming!” Flashflood! Salty, bleachy flavorful spooge filled my mouth. I savored it as long as I could, güvenilir bahis then swallowed. He’s put his hand on the back of my head trying to force deep throat again. I resisted. I can’t taste his load that way. Ok, three squirts and I’ll compromise. I couldn’t even feel the fourth and subsequent blasts as they hit the back of my throat, much less taste them. Oh well, I got most of what I wanted.

His heaving and ragged breathing subsided. Damn! He went soft faster than any other cock I’ve sucked, but stayed thick. Kind of like a nerf penis in my mouth.

“Your turn,” he said. He rose from the table top, swung a leg over my head and we exchanged places. He sat on the bench; I sat on the table. He was at the center of the V that my legs formed. He unbuttoned and unzipped me to free my own raging boner.

He lifted his t-shirt over his head and behind his neck to reveal my fetish dreamscape of a thick tapering triangle of chest hair.

He didn’t suck, but jacked me furiously. He shifted his gaze from my cock to my eyes. That’s it!

I went deaf and blind, my balls imploded as I hosed his hairy chest with squirt after squirt of scalding cum.
When I regain my hearing and sight, he had returned his t-shirt to the front. He jumped up from the bench and jiggled my spent balls with a cupped hand.

“I’m wearing this home,” he said as he smoothed the t-shirt into the cum spatters. He turned and walked away to where the cars were parked.

I sat to recover a few moments, recomposed by clothes and went home to jack off and cum again to the memory of that night. I still do.

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