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2009/04/16

Once in a Blue Moon... Random Acts of Hotness

Why cruise for sex? Why spend all that time in the hopes of landing something that may or may not be available at a given location within the limited time constraints life imposes on us all?

Why spend all that time in a familiar environment, dodging trolls, ignoring those that won’t take no for an answer and getting pissed off with those guys who give you the cold shoulder on a consistent basis (they are there looking for the same thing you are – right?). So? Yes or no? I don’t have time for your mind games.

Why bother?

Well, first there is that whole great outdoor adventure thing. Now that the weather has turned nice and spring has sprung that wonderful glow and promise hunting for dick has always possessed has returned renewed. I love being outside. Not one for car sex (too cramped and limiting), I always yearn for the freedom of wide open spaces and the heat of the sun beating down on my man parts. I love the woods, the smell of the earth, decaying leaves, slight breezes and the inspiring textures of nature.

The other thing that appeals to me and keeps me coming back for more: random acts of hotness.

It happens. Every once in awhile, and just often enough to keep me coming back for more.

I’m talking about those rare occasions when you happen upon someone who is way out of your league, but for some reason (desperation? naiveté? a devotion to public service?) they choose to have sex with you anyway. I always walk away from these encounters breathless and giggling like mad. It comes so out of the blue. Usually during the peak of a dry spell, just when you start to feel that maybe you should give up the whole hunt because your shelf-life has past; you’re expiration has come date due.

And then, out of the blue, a wonderful creature will come along and restore your faith in the whole process. It’s like having your limited warranty renewed.

One such instance happened about three years ago. It was the weekend of Thanksgiving, on a Saturday, at dusk. There was snow on the ground, but there had been a recent thaw. It was nippy, but nice; the snow melted in places leaving icy mounds of white. I was at one of my usual cruising spots, feeling sorry for myself because I had been there for two hours and scored zilch. Had not even been approached. I was about to call it a day when this little black sports car came streaming into the lot. It came to an immediate halt and parked itself about twenty feet away from my vehicle. We were the only vehicles in the lot.

Seated in out cars, we exchanged glances. He then got out of his car and began to slowly walk down an incline to a nearby picnic table. He was really well dressed – dress shirt, tie, great dress slacks and beautiful black shoes. He has a full head of beautiful, slightly curly black hair. He’s tall and height/weigh proportionate. From the backwards glance he sends in my direction, I determine that he is either handsome or very cute.

My heart sinks just a little. He’s way out of my league. I’m thinking that this is a waste of my time and his, but I dutifully get out of the car and saunter over so he can check me out. I am pretty sure his reaction will be negative, and that he will bolt back to his car and race off. But, hey… I get rejected a lot. I live with it. And when I get rejected by someone as good looking as this man, I take it as a compliment. You know, that weird, I-have-no-self-esteem, thank-you-for-sneering-at-me kind of compliment. And I will take rejection over being ignored or being given the cold shoulder any day. At least with rejection you know where you stand and where not to waste your energy.

So, I approached fearing the worst and waited for his eyes to meet mine so that I could register his distaste and go home. To add to my further feeling of hopelessness, he turned out to be quite young – probably in his early twenties. He was gorgeous. Pretty. Sweet looking. All that beautiful black wavy hair. Exactly the type of guy that never looks my way (and is usually filled with repulsion or pissed off when I look his).

He smiled. Shyly.

We made small talk. Very small. After a few halting questions met with equally vague answers, I decided to just put it out there, and asked, “So what are you up for?”. I don’t remember his exact answer, but it was ambiguous enough for me to not be sure who was the top and who was the bottom, if anal was even on the table, and just who would be sucking whom. But I told him, cool… and that I would be right back (I had forgotten my stuff – lube, condom, poppers, cock ring – in my car). I kind of raced to the car. As I did, I took note that it was kind of chilly – nippy really – but anticipated sexual encounters have this way of nullifying such concerns. I grabbed my stuff and returned to the picnic table before this incredible vision vanished.

I mention how cold it is. He agrees and tells me it is now his turn to run to his car. He tells me to start up the hill and he will catch up. Inside I’m thinking: oh, this is how it ends. He’s had time to reconsider his purchase. He’s going to make a quick getaway while my back is turned. But I do as I’m told and start up the hill – which is wet, a little muddy and covered in icy mounds of semi-melted snow. I’m starting to think this whole thing might fall under the category of ‘this is a really bad idea’. I’m halfway up the hill when I turn around to see if and when I am going to have to start my lonely trek back to my car. Instead, I see the object of my erection fluffing out a small blanket, wrapping it about his shoulders and moving quickly towards me. The little blanket has long fringes and it is striped just like a… no, it is – it’s a tallit. A freaking Jewish prayer shawl. My head starts clicking – it’s dusk, on a Saturday, he’s dressed to the nines and … OMG! He’s just come from temple. He probably wanted desperately to get away from his family and do something gay and dirty.

But the lad is upon me before I can even begin to contemplate the moral implications of any of this. He has a beautiful smile on his face with eyes to die for… so all such thoughts are pushed aside. I comment on the mud and the fact he is so dressed up. He suggests we go no further. It is a bit darker now and in his presence I just go with the flow. We move to behind a large tree, offering just enough cover that no one driving by could be able to see us. I stand with my back to the tree and he presses in close to me. We tentatively grab each other’s crotches. His dick is hard as a rock, while mine is happy but a little intimidated. He wastes no time. I undo my jeans and he crouches down and takes me into his mouth. My dick responds immediately, but I am distracted, too, playing look out and wondering where all this leads. He spends a few minutes on my dick, his hands pressing my ass cheeks greedily. His technique is… well, it’s just okay. I feel his teeth on occasion. I pull out my dick and tell him to lick my balls. He does and then goes back to my dick. I feel close to shooting (prematurely), so I pull it out of his mouth again. He returns to a full upright position.

Then he says the words every cocksucker longs to hear… “Suck me, bitch”. He’s undone his dress slacks, jerking himself while he slobbed up my dick, so the meaty head of his cock is poking out. I take a hit of poppers and dive in. He makes the kind of noises that send me over the edge – little grunts and coos punctuating each new oral maneuver. I work all my usual tricks: concentrating on the underside of the head of his dick, deep throating his dick, pulling slightly on his ball sack, constricting my throat around the shaft of his cock, etc. After a few minutes of this, he forcibly, bodily picks me up and says “I want to fuck your ass”. He then moves in for a killer deep kiss, pulling up my sweater and t-shirt in the process.

I’m stunned. And in heaven. I hand him the condom and he quickly shucks it onto his dick. I then realize to my horror – no lube! Bad bottom, I reprimand myself. Without even mentioning the lack of lube, I bend at the waist and engulf his latex encased fuck stick. I lubed it up as best I could with my saliva (which, is considerable – I drool) and then standing up, I spit in my hand and rub some on my hole. I turn around, facing the tree, take the cap off my poppers (it falls to the ground) and, preparing to hug the tree issue the warning, “Go slowly!

He heeds my advice, drooling his own spit onto my crack as the head of his dick tests the rim of my ass. Suddenly, he crouches down, spreading my cheeks wide and goes to town on my ass with his mouth. I take a hit of poppers and then hold my ass cheeks further apart for his sweet face. He lubes me up big time, working his magic mouth like a starving man. He then stands and slowly inserts his dick. He’s not huge, but very nice – probably seven inches. It is cosmetically a very pretty dick. And it feels wonderful. I take another hit of poppers and he asks “You like that? Huh?” I’m not sure if he was asking about the poppers or taking his dick up my ass, but at this point, I figure I owe the dude some major answers, so I pull out my porno talk dictionary to see just how far I can push this amazing Jewish cherub using my hole.

It turns out to be just the ticket. He happily bangs away with me spouting encouragement and then announces he’s going to cum. He pulls out and rips away the condom. I instinctively turn around and crouch down in front of him. He manhandles his dick a bit and asks me in a choked voice “Where you want it?” I offer up my chest. The first spurt flies high and hard, hitting the right side of my face, the second my chin… then, with diminishing returns, the next six stream down my chest. I’m jerking my own and coming at the same time. One drop of my jizz hits his perfectly polished, expensive shoes and I immediately move to wipe it away with my thumb.

Completely spent, we are both grinning like mad dogs, and giggling as we quickly store our equipment and go about readjusting our clothing. “Fuck, that was great”, he says. What can I say? I agree, still feeling the effects of the intensity of the poppers and our frenzied fuck.

I tell him to go ahead, that I have to find the cap to my poppers. Don’t worry, I say, I’ll get rid of the condom. It is almost pitch dark now. I grope about in the dark as he, (kind of – could have been wishful thinking on my part) reluctantly heads to his car, commenting that it is too cold. I find the cap, but not the condom. I return to my car. He’s waited in his car until I am in mine (such a gentleman). He turns on his lights, waves and exits the lot. I am in my car… shivering, spent, giggling, and overrun with elation.

I love that feeling of – wow, did that really just happen?

It is precisely that feeling that keeps me cruising. Because you never know when you are going to totally luck out and nab someone that just blows your mind while you are blowing their dick.

There are other similar instances I will share at a different time. They are equally amazing (to me). I just remember this one so clearly, because at the time I thought… this is one I will never forget. When I am old and wrinkled and too damn ugly to pull in anything… this is one of those moments I will remember… one that will warm my soul.

Ahh… Jewish boys and their beautiful dark hair.

It makes me feel just like that old perv on ‘Family Guy’.

Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm. (Indeed.)

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