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Book Ends: The Summer Knows....

Ah, August... you bring thoughts of autumn and of having to relinquish my days of sun and fun. I have a kick-ass tan this year; though I am thinking this may be my last year for tanning. I don't want to end up looking like I'm made of leather.

As the season winds down I keep thinking that what was there at the beginning is now returning, sort of like bookends to the season. And after my adventure yesterday I am more than convinced that summer is folding in on itself, and repeating itself in the most delicious way.

Let me backtrack.

At the beginning of the season, and it began quite early this year (I was actually out there at the end of April getting my tan on), I was at the prairie, playing around on my cell phone and soaking up the rays. As an experiment I had put out a quick ad on a hook-up site I have come to prefer (or at least, at that time I liked it).  Basically I was adopting my "Little Whore on the Prairie" persona and hoping someone would wander into the woods and take me up on my offer. My ad caught the attention of all the usual players, those that claim interest, ask way too many questions, and then, for some vague reason, just can't seem to make it on that day at that time. Players are part of the landscape when hooking-up on-line and I am getting pretty handy at spotting (and remembering) them. Most of the sites I frequent have a limit to the number of emails you can send back and forth, so I don't waste my time with certain people anymore.

Pretty much convinced this is going nowhere, I am about to give up and go home. It is way early in the season and none of the regulars have appeared on the scene yet (as many would not this year), for the prairie grass was not very high. It was still showing signs of being butchered last fall when the parks and wrecks department had had a field day re-landscaping and manicuring the space into something more family-friendly. Hard to say what they had in mind, but the result was, and this would remain true for the whole summer, that likeminded gay folk in search of a little something-something in the woods stayed away in droves. So, mission accomplished parks and wrecks! You suck. And we gay dudes that love sex in the great outdoors, did not get suck much at all.

Thinking of packing it in, I get hit up on by this black dude on-line, someone I had never talked to before. He asks the usual questions and I am about to write him off as a time waster, but since I am not doing anything else at the time, I decide to see where it goes. Once he's googled the spot I am occupying and determines where I'm at, the conversation dials down ending on a vague, "I will see what I can do" note. Well, that holds more promise than anything else I have going on, so since nothing is going on but the rent, I stay put and chill out for a bit longer.

Twenty minutes later, I spy a nice-looking black dude walking down the main road that leads to the beach. I'm seated in the perfect spot to catch any and all activity on the prairie. Sometimes when seated there I feel like a giant spider waiting for some poor innocent to stumble into my web. Anyway, my spidey-senses pick up on this one immediately. I watch as strides forward. I know he caught a glimpse of me, but his eyes do not meet mine, and I am thinking he is probably on his way to the lake. But I do not lose hope, and in fact find my heart racing. Is this the dude I spoke to on-line? Possibly.

See, my phone is small, which means the pictures on it are even smaller. The glare of the sun, washing out my phone's display doesn't help matters either. That said, I have no idea exactly what the dude on-line looks like, despite the fact that he had pictures posted in his profile. Still, you don't see a ton of black dudes on the prairie, so, for that reason alone, I hold out some hope.

He matches the stats of the dude on-line: 5'10", 170, bald head... oh, yeah - and black. Even without my glasses and at some distance, I can tell he is fairly good-looking. Generous lips, kind eyes. I don't get a sense of anything mean about him. His body is stocky - meaty. He turns off the main road onto a path that leads behind me. I play coy and keep my eyes averted in the opposite direction. Now, either he will circle the entire prairie or disappear down one of the paths that lead into the woods. I turn and look, catching a glimpse of him as he vanishes into the trees. Did he look back at me? Not sure.

So part of me is thinking I should just stay put and the other part of me wants to chase after him. Chasing after him means leaving my stuff out in the open, but then I consider the fact that nothing else is going on and nobody else is around, so maybe I should go for it. Then I realize that by weighing my options, I have probably lost any chance of getting him because he is probably already halfway down to the lake by now. Indecisiveness is something I am not comfortable with, so I grab my poppers, a condom, a tube of lube, and head on back into the woods.
A few yards in, I am thinking he is gone and that I am wasting my time. I almost turn around and go back to my blanket, but in for a penny, in for a pound, right? I walk another couple yards and glance to the right and left. To my left, I catch a glimpse of something other than flora. With my hopes rising, I wind my way down the path. Up close, he's even lovelier than I imagined. I figure he's about 32 and his skin is beautiful and smooth. I like his hunky form - a real man - not a gym bunny, but muscular and masculine. His lips part into a smile. It's killer and my knees automatically bend as if to assume the position.

He's sequestered himself in a tiny alcove off the main path; just big enough for two, but no more. It offers, even this early into the season, plenty of privacy, or at least enough to get the deed done. His right hand is casually toying with the magnificent tent in front of his nylon shorts. In a flash, I am on my knees servicing his his dick. My new thing is to open my mouth as wide as I can and swallow the whole member right off the bat. I must be really eager and ready to get it on, because in spite of his dick being a good eight inches, I still manage to wrap my throat around it without any struggle. He moans. They usually do. After all these years, I do believe I am now as a good a cocksucker as I am a kisser. Yes, on occasion, they both get a little too wet - saliva is a good thing, until it is not - too much never being a good thing.
I work my way around his tool as my hands wander under his shirt and up to his nips. I give them a squeeze and he likes that, too. The shirt comes off. I really like his biceps. Not sure exactly what he's up for: is it just a suck and go? Does he want to fuck me? After ten minutes on my knees, I decide to try and entice him with my ass. I rise, keeping his dick in my mouth while angling my ass to his right side. Bent over, this gives him easy access to my hole, should he want to poke around back there. Much to my pleasure, that is exactly what he has in mind. His right hand slips under the waistband of my shorts, as his index finger finds its way to my lubed hole. He's good with his fingers and I am pretty sure he's going to want to fuck me. Now it's just a question of bareback or covered.

I'd dropped the lube, condom, and poppers on the ground next to us when I first fell to my knees, so I'm pretty sure he's aware that they are there. I stand upright in order to shuck down my shorts. As I do so, our eyes meet and soon our lips are melded together. He grinds his dick into mine, all the while; his hands are spreading the cheeks of my ass, his fingers expertly opening up my hole. "Fuck me", I say. I keep it quiet; it's not a question, but a request. He doesn't say anything, simply turns me around so I'm facing away from him, bends me over, and starts teasing my hole with the fat head of his dick. I reach for the poppers and lube, hand him the lube, and take a hit off the poppers. I offer them up to him as well, but he shakes his head no. His slicked up dick slides its way slowly into my hole. Fuck yeah, just how I like it. A nice easy entrance. No pain. No ugly surprises. He pulls out just as slow. It feels like heaven, which makes me wish I hadn't done the poppers, for when the experience is that sweet, why dilute it with chemicals? From that point on I decide to discontinue using them for the remainder of our session.

In and out. He picks up the tempo until he's pounding my hole hard, pulling back on my hips, forcing my ass to meet his dick. He's so strong. I feel like a fucking rag doll in his hands. I arch up and turn my head, searching for his lips, but he's so intent on fucking me, such intimacy is the last thing on his mind. "You want it?" he asks me. "Fuck yeah", I respond. He loads my ass up and continues to ram into me. He wants me to get off, too. Thankfully, I haven't been doing any additional poppers, and the pressure against my prostrate has me hard as a rock and on the edge. He fucks the cum right out of me... and since I hadn't cum in a week, it's a nice load, leaving a nice pool of glaze on the forest floor as testimony to the great time we just had.

I ease my ass off his dick, turn around and am on my knees to do clean up duty, taking his dick in mouth all the way to the root. This, in spite of all the health risks, has become one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes dudes are too sensitive and beg off, but this man is digging it, even pulling me off his dick and redirecting me to clean up his balls, before deep fucking my throat a bit more.

Completely satisfied, he pulls me up. Eye to eye, he kisses me, deeply. Despite our precarious surroundings and the possibility of being seen, he's in no rush. His embrace is all-consuming and manly. I feel used, in the best sense of the word.

Shorts are pulled up, sundries collected. He walks out the way he came in. I follow and watch him as he exits the prairie. Still reverberating with pleasure, I hear a little voice in my head say "come back." He doesn't, of course. And he never does. I return to the prairie numerous times that month and run the same ad on that site, but I never hear from or see him again.

Fast-forward to mid-August. I'd given up on the prairie for some reason. It is a bit more of a drive for me to get there and I found that I wasn't meeting quality people. I tried changing things up by going down to the lake quite a bit more than I had in previous summers, but people drink down there and, if I want to hang out with intoxicated gay guys, I will drag my ass to a gay bar. Instead, I begin spending my time after work at another park, this one on the Mississippi. I have a spot I always sun in and... I am the only dude that does so. It's on a small hill facing the west with a picnic table at the bottom and a trail beyond the picnic table that leads down to the river. It's an ideal spot where I get plenty of sun between the hours of 4:00 and 6:00 pm. No one else suns here, mainly because it's right out in the open: there are no trees or underbrush to serve as cover. Not that I have anything to hide. I put it right out there in the open. I don't mind the attention... and I do get a fair amount. Some of it unwanted.

There are a lot of trolls that frequent the parking lots. I have befriended a few of them, but most, I keep at arm’s length. Some of them are much older than me, the others, simply not my kind of fun. Have I developed standards? Goll, I would have to say, yes. In fact, this summer, I have spent more days outdoors, sunning and NOT having sex, than I have actually having sex. The decision to do so was mine; motivated by one too many STD scares and a desire for a healthier sense of self.

The trolls I have befriended? They are sweet and fully realize that absolutely nothing of a sexual nature is ever going to happen between us. On occasion, they have been very helpful. I lost my keys once, and one of them helped me find them. They also go out of their way to inform me whenever they suspect an undercover cop is lurking about. Whether there's any validity to their suspicions? That I can't say. But I appreciate that they have my back. They kind of serve as my gay guardian angels.

Last Thursday, I only had an hour to sun bathe. I take a rather intensive two-hour naked yoga class once a week on Thursdays, so, rather than my usual, leisurely hour and half to two hours, I really had to watch the clock. After weeks of blistering heat, this week has been rather mild, with temps only in the high 70's, and I have really been enjoying my time outdoors, even more than usual, and I don't want to miss a single day.

I change my clothes in my car, pack my duffle bag, and make my way to my usual spot. There are lots of cars in the parking lot today... all minus drivers and passengers, which indicates, to me, that they are probably all down below, near the river, busy cruising and getting their freak on. I recognize a number of the cars, but there are several I do not. There was a time when I would have made my way down to the river, just to check out who was about and what they were up to, but no more. I figure if they are interested in seeing me, they know where to find me and whatever it is they are up to down below... well, that's their business, not mine.

At my usual spot, I unfurl my blanket and start my usual routine, the details of which I will spare you. The entire time, I am keeping my eye on the comings and goings near the parking lot, mostly because I am curious to see who is out and about. I strip off my shorts and remove my tennis shoes before coating my body with lotion. Today, rather than baby oil (which I know is so bad for me) I am using cocoa butter. I'm just starting on my feet, when a young black male appears from the woods near the parking lot. Even at such a distance I can tell that he is cute and a bit on the young side. He spots me right away and rather than continuing to the parking lot and his car, he pauses on the blacktop path.  Without thinking, I raise a hand in greeting, and yank it down just as quickly. I don't recognize him. He could be a cop, for all I know. He doesn't respond in kind, but he is intrigued enough to start strolling down the path toward the picnic table at the bottom of the hill.

Part of me is hoping he will sit on the picnic table and stare at me for a bit. Then I can give him a show. See, I have taken to sunning this summer wearing a sort of jock strap made by a company called Pistol Pete. It looks like a pair of bikini underwear or a speedo from the front, but the ass is totally exposed and nicely framed. Therefore, I typically only get to sun lying on my back, with my legs flat and usually held close together. That is, except for those occasions when someone who piques my interest sets his butt down at the picnic table. Then I like to put on a little show; the kind that indicates to them that I am a bottom who likes to get fucked. Now this is not a daily occurrence - again, it's rare these days that I find myself sexually attracted to someone. And sometimes the show is all they get, as in, either circumstances don't allow for more (too many people about), or I am not in the mood for more. Today, despite my time constraint, that is not the case. It's been a full week since I got fucked and I am not going to turn down an opportunity to do just that. Given that, I am very tempted to just turn over and put my ass in the air, but then I don't know this dude at all, so I hold off.

He reaches the picnic table and then does what so few before him have done - he starts walking up the hill towards me! As he draws closer, I start taking note of his stats: black, 22-26 years old, swimmers build, great skin tone, nicely shaped head, killer eyes, good hygiene. His hair is buzzed short and his lips are... luscious. I greet him and ask him how it's going. He stands before me wearing sweat pants that hang nicely on his hips and a tank top which shows of his smooth arms. Two sentences into a discussion of the weather and I decide to go for broke. I spread my legs wide on the blanket and slowly bring one of my knees up, exposing my nicely framed hole. His appreciation is instantaneous. This encourages me to reach over, take a dab of cocoa butter and rub it on my pucker. He drops down to the blanket and sits between my legs. Tentatively he takes his index finger and presses my hole. "Is it safe to do this here?" And, yes, he has a point.

The black top path runs the length of the park, and while we have a great view right and left of anyone approaching, they eventually will have an equally great view of us. "It is as long as nobody comes walking down that path." He smiles as his finger presses more firmly against my hole, until it opens up and allows him inside. We check around us. No one in sight. Once he buries his finger in my hole, I decide to up the ante. I raise up my hips and literally begin fucking his finger. He's way into this. So much so, he removes his finger and wrestles down the waist band of his sweat pants in order to show off his hot, hard dick. Oh, be still my throbbing asshole.

Checking the landscape for interlopers and seeing none, I dive mouth-first down the length of his cock and hold him there. I constrict my throat and swallow just to show him what he's in store for should he decide to comply with my next suggestion. After working my throat up and down his shaft a few times, I pull off and ask him if he'd like to continue this somewhere a bit more private. He's game and clueless as to where to go. I tell him to head down the path directly behind the picnic table and wait for me. He packs up his tool and heads toward the river.

Now I have to get my poop in a group and quickly. He's not going to wait forever and I need to get to him before someone appears on the path and catches me disappearing into the bushes. Why? Because if it is a troll or another cruiser, they will follow, hoping to participate or watch. And if it is a dog walker, a bicyclist, or a casual stroller, then they will see me disappearing into the bushes and probably surmise why I am doing it. On go the shorts and the tennis shoes. I dig in my bag and locate the following: poppers, cock ring, lube, and a condom. I don't want to risk not getting fucked, and since we didn't discuss bareback or safe, I want to be prepared.

Just as I am getting on my feet, I spy a couple of dog walkers - regulars - coming down the path to my left. They are far enough away that I might be able to make it to the mouth of the pathway without attracting too much attention. Swiftly, I make my way toward the picnic table, my heart racing. Once on the pathway, I spot my intended standing with his back to me a few yards away. As I approach, I see he has his dick out and is stroking it. As I pass him, I pause long enough to swallow his eight inch wonder, before continuing down the trail. He follows. I veer off to the left, going just a tad further than I usually do. There is a nice set of large rocks jutting out of the side of the hill and I have always thought they would make for a great spot to fuck.

Turning around, I drop to my knees and get busy. His dick is perfect; nice head, great width and length, with a nice pair of medium hangers. I take in all I can, varying my technique, while spending ample time on his balls as well. He smells fucking hot - a nice, rich, fresh funk. I like it so much I even lick his buzzed pubes. Soon I have his sweat pants down around his ankles. I've already shucked off my shorts and am wearing only my Pistol Pete. He sits down, bare-assed, on the rock above us and I dutifully remain between his legs. I'd placed the lube, condom, and poppers to the left of this rock when we arrived. He spots the poppers, uncorks them and takes a huge hit before offering them to me. We are in a precarious place, one where if we lose our balance it will not end well at all, but I feel pretty secure with him and take a brief hit. Fortunately, the poppers are old - effective, but not mind-numbing. That suits our purposes and situation to a "T".

After a bit, my hands move up to his nipples, and he shucks off his tank top. His body is truly sweet. A true swimmer’s build, I can't help but wonder how the hell his magnificent ass is handling that abrasive rock. But then again, if things go as planned, it's going to get even rougher for him. I'm not sure how we manage it, but soon my Pistol Pete is off and we are pressing our dicks together. The kissing is really electric and it gives me a moment or two to really study his face. He has Eurasian eyes and his eyes are not sunken at all. This makes him even more exotic looking. I'm smitten.

I caress his scalp. He bites my neck. I return the flavor. We're totally in sync with one another. He's playing with my ass and I want to ride his dick. I reach up and grab the trunk of a small tree overhead. Pulling myself up, I situate my feet on either side of him, my hole perched over the head of his dick. His dick is slicked up enough with my saliva that lube isn't necessary and his busy fingers have more than opened up my hole. He holds the poppers under my nose and I take a hit as I impale myself on his cock. Yep, this is awkward as hell and feels precarious to say the least, and yet... it really works. Using the tree in one hand and the top of the rock with the other to improve my leverage, I begin to raise and lower my ass. He's duly impressed and we kiss like mad. It's a hot position, but one with a definite time limit. I keep it up for as long as I can; the muscles in my arms straining, the ones in my thighs cramping just a bit. Fortunately, I think his young ass has taken quite a beating sitting on that rock and he's ready for a change, too.

We stand and he finishes me doggy-style, pounding his hips into me. We would offer quite the sight to any boater happening by on the river below. And who knows, maybe we did - we were too far gone at that point to even notice if anyone was watching. Taking turns, with me fucking back on his dick, and him taking control of my hips and pulling me onto him, he tells me that he wants to breed my ass. I am only too happy to let him do just that. Finished, he pulls out of me and I do my usual clean up. We kiss. He's very complimentary, as am I... we exchange names and he promises to look for me next time he's at the park. We dress. He exits straight up the hill as I retrace my steps, exiting the way we came in. I get back to my blanket, grab some water, return down the path, and clean out my ass. Then I make my way back to my blanket to rinse my mouth with some Listerine.

I spend the next half hour marveling at the weather, my recent experience, and it's then that I recall how the season began, and how this man was like a bookend to the season. I doubt I will ever see this dude again, either. There's not much of summer left.

But, if this were to be my last day in the sun, it sure was a sweet way to end it.

1 comment:

Skilled4Men said...

Oh, Upton... Great post!!! Sounds like your affinity for black men parallels mine with Latinos -and Arabics... Okay, MANY of a foreign persuasion!!! LMAO Lord, how I'm chuckling though... The rocks/twigs/and over zealous eyes done-did me in! I've found Resort Suites to be much more suitable at my age! Do you suppose condoms ever go bad??? ...just askin'!