An Honest Freak

Note: This is the last entry in this year's prairie series. I meant to post it earlier, but life got in the way. Man, do I miss the sun. Enjoy.

Another late afternoon spent at the Prairie. It’s a hot, moist Friday and I am so relieved to be off from work for the weekend. I settle into one of my favorite spots and immediately spy someone of interest.

I’ve never seen him before. He is long and lanky with very pale skin on his body. His face sports a good two-days growth of beard and is deeply tanned. He’s cute, almost handsome, with a boyish air that disguises his true age. His blue eyes are pure and a bit cold. As I was approaching he had been putting back on a pair of shorts – perhaps preparing to leave, but upon seeing me, the shorts are shucked off, revealing a black thong with an inviting bulge.

I don’t bother with introductions or even a cursory ‘hello’; I just kneel before him and run my tongue along the cup of his thong. He responds with a sweet groan and I am figuring that for once, I have read a situation correctly.

His body is basically hairless. Once his dick slips out of the thong, I notice that he has taken great care to shave everything. His dick is not that large, but it is serviceable. He mentions almost immediately that his balls are very sensitive, so I ease up just a bit. There is not an ounce of fat on the dude and while I am almost certain he is a total bottom, I am pleased that he is allowing me to be of service. I instantly fall in love with his voice, which is gravely and masculine – the kind of voice that conjures up the image of someone who has spent years ingesting a steady diet of whiskey and cigarettes.

Before I really get into my task, we are walked up upon by a guy I call John Deere. He has earned this name because he is always wearing a yellow, faded t-shirt with a John Deere logo blazoned across his chest. His body is all taut muscle and steely reserve. I’ve played with him in the past and while he is a walking wet dream, the experiences have always left me wanting. His handsome face reveals so little emotion, and there is never much dialogue between us. Fully clothed, he crouches behind me and watches. He traces the crack of my ass through the cloth of my shorts with his index finger several times, with increasing urgency. Then he walks away, toward a wooded area, where we have fucked around before.

Like a dog responding to the call of a man he thinks might be his master, I pause after he leaves and wonder whether I am meant to follow. I rise up from my crouched position and catch a last glimpse of John Deere as he disappears into the shade of the wooded area. As the Clash so eloquently put it… should I stay, or should I go? The man lying spread eagle before me is of interest, but not exactly lighting my fire. I also sense a lack of commitment on his part, as in, he understands the nature of casual sex and hook-ups in this environment and he will understand.

“I’ll be right back”, I say, knowing full well that ‘right back’ means once I find out what John Deere wants, if that be anything at all.

I stop in at my blanket for a quick wipe down with a wet wipe, a gargle of Listerine, and to re-lube my recently cleaned ass. I am ready for a good fuck. I make my way to the wooded area and find John Deere searching among the little grassy enclaves. He spots me approaching and makes haste toward our usual meeting spot. As I approach, he leans his handsome self up against the trunk of a tree and I notice that his fly is unzipped. Soon we are groping away at each others crotches and I wonder if I can get my John Deere up and running at full speed this time. You see, for all his physical perfection and rugged exterior, John Deere is a bit skittish and has a horrible tendency to only get half hard. I pull his limp dick from his open fly and move to my knees to begin working what I hope will be magic. I refrain from taking a hit of poppers and really concentrate on changing up my game as much as possible to see if I can find the secret code that will unlock his ever evasive hard on. To my total amazement, after a mere five minutes, I hit jackpot. John Deere is at full throttle and it is a beauty. My mind immediately moves to thoughts of his beauty ramming up my backside doggy style.

Unfortunately, our favorite spot is also quite near a major mountain bike trail. While there is little chance the bikers would notice us or see anything of value as they sped by (there are a number of layers of trees between us and the trail), the sound of the approaching cyclists spook John Deere and the magnificent hard on I have managed to awaken is quickly stuffed back inside his jeans. He immediately strides off toward the opposite side of the prairie and once again I try to determine if I am meant to follow. I walk out to the edge of the prairie and watch his back for any sign of encouragement. I catch the tiniest jerk of his chin, indicating that I am to follow and do so with haste, praying that his elusive hard on is still safe and throbbing away.

I reach the far corner of the prairie and find John Deere, chin in the air, scoping out the lay of the land like a hunter. This particular spot is a well-trodden area hidden behind a grouping of trees where those who are looking for a blow job wait for those willing to provide said service. The floor here is bare dirt. Behind it, there are a series of narrow trails well suited for hidden trysts and the swallowing of cum.

I approach John Deere and cup his crotch in my hand. The hard on of lore is once again absent and I wonder if I can make lightening strike twice. I work in vain. He is half hard, but horribly anxious. I drop my shorts and offer up my ass, as he has digitally been paying attention to it again through the cloth. He tells me he doesn’t have a condom. I produce one and dutifully slip it on his semi-hard dick. He says something about no lube and I assure him I am pre-lubed. I also, for good measure, take his condom wrapped dick into my mouth and wet it with saliva. It is orange flavored and reminds me of Skittles. I turn around, grab my poppers and prepare to be somewhat fucked. Without warning, he rams into me, causing me to wince just the tiniest bit. Normally when a dude thrusts the full length of his dick into me, I protest a lot, as it hurts a great deal. But due to John Deere’s semi-state of arousal, I take it in stride. He pumps away, pushing me forward into the depths of one of the trails. In the back of my mind I know this isn’t all that magical a fuck, but I pretend I am having a good time and keep up a good string of clichéd porno phrases.

He is working up into a mean fuck; lots of pounding, but very little in the way of sensual pleasure. After a particularly forceful thrust sends both of us off balance, John Deere withdraws and moves back into the clearing. I stand up and wonder what the fuck he wants now. He motions for me to join him in the clearing with the dirt floor. He quickly reenters me and pushes down hard on my upper back. After a minute or so of the usual hammer thrusts, he orders me to my knees. I comply. He then begins thrusting away again, pushing down on my back and then my head. Finally he has me on my knees with my face literally in the dirt. The right side of my face is being pushed into the dry earth as John Deer moves up on his haunches and begins to pile drive my ass. He makes some moans and his thrusts sufficiently slow as to indicate that he has unleashed his load. In my present position, I am unable to pay any attention to my dick, so am no where close to cumming.

John Deere climbs off and whips off the condom quickly and tosses it into the bushes behind us. It gets hung up on a tiny twig of a branch and he retrieves it and purposely throws it even further into the underbrush. He zips up, pulls up his jeans and strides off.

Now I have a rule… whatever you bring into the forest needs to leave with you. So I have every intention of retrieving that condom and disposing of it properly. I also am curious to see if John Deere’s desire to rid himself of the condom might have anything to do with the fact that he just faked an orgasm. I retrieve the bright orange condom. Yep. He faked it. I gather up my poppers, right my shorts, wipe my face and knees with the wet wipe I brought with and head back to my blanket.

What a freak. What a dishonest freak. What the fuck? I am used to John Deere walking off in mid-fuck, so why did he go to the trouble of faking an orgasm and tossing the condom? Probably because he’s ego based; his self-esteem tied to his performance. In any event, I decide that’s it for him. I’m still processing how I feel about having my ass banged while my face is being ground into the dirt, when I catch sight of another fool I know.

We’ll call him ‘Steven’. Steven is tall, built like a brick shit house, handsome with the squarest jaw I have ever had the pleasure of smiling my direction and one of the shiest people I have ever fucked around with. Steven is only into oral. When I first met him, he was only into sucking dick wearing a blindfold. That happened in my garage one brisk fall evening. At first I thought his shyness was due to a need to be discreet; maybe he was in the closet. He’d seen me several times at the prairie throughout the summer – and always walked the other way. I figured that was just as well, as I was looking to suck and assumed we were competition for one another.

On a hunch I follow Steven to the corner where John Deere had just fake-fucked me. As I come into the clearing, Steven is standing on the very spot I had my face fifteen minutes ago. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a nice, worn, tight t-shirt, hiking boots, a b-ball cap and a shy smile. I stand next to him for a moment and then move off to the side down one of the narrow passages engulfed by the shrubbery. Then I turn around and stare back at Steven. All I can see is his lower half, due to the encroaching branches. Steven turns to face the mouth of the trail and then begins to rub the crotch of his shorts. I do the same. He approaches and I get down on my knees. He unzips and hauls out his equipment.

Now keep in mind, I have never had the pleasure of sucking Steven. He’s always sucked me, usually on his knees while jerking his own meat. That said, I have never had the pleasure of seeing his fuck stick up close. OMG! It was an incredible eyeful; as in, it is a massive slice of prime dick. He grabs it at its base and rams it into my waiting mouth, repeatedly. Fortunately I am already kind of salivating, so it makes for an easy entrance.

I deep throat him and wrap my tonsils around his thick shaft. But he won’t let go of the base of his dick. Finally he pulls his meat out of my mouth and begins to power stroke it, fast and furious. I switch to his nuts, which hang nice and low and are a real treasure, rolling each succulent ball around in my mouth. Steven than pushes on my forehead to raise my face to his dick and, once in position, he jams his dick in my mouth and begins to shoot a huge fucking load. Dude shoots the largest load I think I have ever had the pleasure to wallow in; my throat is absolutely loving every pulse his cum-filled pole has to offer. He’s gasping, I’m gasping. I swallow.

I comment on what an amazing load he just delivered and the beauty of his massive appendage. He is blessed. Steven gets all shy. But then says something that just thrills me. He tells me that not only has it been too long, but that I owe him at least ten blow jobs! Happily, I tell him that will not be a problem, just say when and where. Steven packs up, zips up and tells me he is heading to the beach for a swim. I watch his massive shoulders disappear down one of the trails.

Still savoring the load in my throat, I get up and right myself. I have a date with a bottle of Listerine! I make my way back to my blanket and supplies. As I’m gargling and wiping my face with a wet wipe I glance over to the guy I’d first approached when I arrived at the Prairie – you know, the one I promised I would “be right back”. Apparently in my world “right back” translates to a minimum of one load later.

I honestly can’t remember his name, though I know he told it to me. Me and names… ugh. But for the sake of this posting I’ll just call him Dennis. Dennis was now sporting a bright neon yellow thong. He was busily digging through a knap sack that he had concealed behind him in the brush. I also notice that there was a good-sized pile of used wet wipes that he had stashed over to one side. Intrigued, I moved to go see what he was up to.

Without a word exchanged between us, Dennis lays back, spreads his legs and removes his dick from the confines of his thong. He’s not hard. He reaches over and spurts some lube into his palm, greasing up his dick to begin jerking himself. Apparently this is a one man operation. I watch. His efforts are to no avail. He then pulls a bunch of stuff out of the knap sack. The first items are these tiny clear plastic funnels with tiny rubber bulbs attached. I have never seen anything like them before. Lucky for me, he’s only too happy to demonstrate. They’re some type of nipple pump. He places the funnel portion over his nipple and then squeezes the air out of the bulb. The resulting suction keeps the funnel firmly in place on his chest. He does the same with his other nipple. Then he proceeds to pull out the largest black butt plug I had ever seen outside of a sex shop showcase. Well, at least now I know he’s a big bottom. Just as Dennis is lubing up his ass and preparing to insert the butt plug, who should reappear, but John Deere.

At this point I am in a crouched position just outside the mouth of Dennis’ grassy enclave. With a quick glance over my shoulder I acknowledge John Deere, but then decide to return my attention to Dennis, who doesn’t seem to mind the additional audience member. John stands watching as Dennis slides the oversized butt plug up his ass. I am impressed. As Dennis is busy manipulating the butt plug, John begins to trace the crack of my ass once more with his finger. I’m conflicted. I love getting fucked outside. There’s nothing I like better, so I am conflicted, but not much. I decide that I would much rather spend time with an honest freak like Dennis (and I mean the word freak in the sense that we are all, every single motherfucking one of us, freaks – in one way or another), than to fuck around with a dishonest freak like John Deere.

After a few more attempts at getting my attention, John Deere strides away to the far end of the prairie, where there are a group of trees. I’m beginning to pick up a pattern here. While I’m a tad torn, I feel I owe it to Dennis to remain still and watch his little show. I become more resolute once Dennis proceeds to pull a large, pink dildo from his little knap sack of naughty goods. Normally I loathe one-man shows, but since the dialogue in this case is nothing more than a series of throaty grunts and escaping gasps, I’m cool with it.

And speaking of things I don’t care for… for the record, I don’t like toys. I have never played with them. I don’t own any. I have only gone through the motions when a play partner pulls out an arsenal of latex goodies and insists that they be used on them. But I’m not a snob. If this is Dennis’ thing then more power to him. I say support your local freak, whatever their freak may be. In this case, I am only too happy to play the role of supportive audience.

Dennis deftly removes the oversized black butt plug (clean as a whistle, by the way – this boy knows how to douche!), and immediately replaces it with the large pink dildo. Now this is something I have never seen at the prairie, and as I am all for experiencing most things once, I look on with rapt interest. No one else is about, except, as I spy out of the corner of my eye, John Deere, who is now rather angrily moving toward the other side of the prairie where he last rubbed my face in the dirt. Poor thing. I’m sure he’ll find someone who will put up with his shit long enough for him to get his rocks off – maybe for real this time.

No matter. My gaze returns to Dennis, who was happily indulging in the joys of dildo-hood with all the professional glee of one of those Tupperware ladies demonstrating how to burp a bowl. In fact, the sound the dildo is making as it glides in and out of his well stretched ass makes a sound that is quite similar to just that. I decide right there and then that I’m going to fuck his ass right out in the middle of this field. And when I do, I am going to be standing fully erect (in more ways than one) with him bent forward in front of me, so anybody passing by can see. Why? Because if you’re gonna wave a freak flag, then you damn well better wave it high up where everybody can see.

And I do. I fuck him. With zeal and just the right amount of staying-power. Just because (and because he lets me). You see it’s the principle of the thing.

I would much rather celebrate an honest freak than go through the motions with a dishonest one.

So take that, John Deere. I’m sure you will find plenty of fields to plow for the remainder of the season, but alas, one them will not be mine.

At least… not until next year. When I’m over myself. And forgotten why it is I’m mad at you. And succumb to your devious, silent, dishonest charms once more.

Ahhh, life on the prairie… it sure is hell, sometimes.