Black Leather BDSM Camp, Part III: Hot Male On The Trail

Friday, 5:30 am – 3:30 pm (cont.)

I’m not sure what it was, but something about this dude tripped my triggers.  And the deeper we got into it, the hotter it became. 

Joe was a few years my senior, and his body was stockier than I’d first thought.  Still, I loved the salt and pepper of his fur.  He was balding, and hence the cap, but that made him seem more virile and sexy as hell in my eyes. He was as real a man as it gets.

Kissing a dude that is shorter than me while standing is always a challenge, but I would have happily risked straining my neck muscles to kiss Joe.  He met me every step of the way, fire for fire.  If the night before had been a mild glow, then this was a wildfire out of control from the first spark.  I was also a tad smitten, which never hurts matters, except for having to operate with this tiny bubble of excitement just under my lungs – a bubble that at this point felt ready to burst at any moment. 

The kisses were wet, but not too much so, with just the right amount of abandon.  I was holding a vial of lube, a condom, and some poppers, all of which I dropped to the ground.  Who needs poppers when the kissing is this good?

Feeling the need for more, I fell to my knees and took his dick in my mouth.  It was nice; a good eight inches and reasonably thick.  It definitely gave my throat a nice stretch.  Working my arsenal of dick tricks, he was rock hard in no time and, to his credit, remained hard for the entire time we played.  He definitely appreciated what I was doing with his dick, and once he had thoroughly explored the pleasures of my mouth, he bent down and began stroking my cock.

 

I stood and let him at it.  Taking me in his mouth, the man gave as good as he got.  I removed his ball cap and tossed it to the ground.  I liked that sexy bald spot, so much so, I leaned down and gave it a kiss.  My own dick was responding quite nicely.  I’d like to give all the credit to Joe’s oral skills, but it may have been echoes of the Viagra I had taken the night before. In any event, I was nice and stiff. 

Joe rose and we kissed some more while playing with each other’s junk. The thrill of being outdoors, on a beautiful day, completely naked, and with no fear of arrest was new to me… and I was enjoying it to the max.  This was sex the way nature intended. 

After another round of servicing each other, I remained unsure where this was all going.  Joe was aggressive enough that I thought perhaps he might be a top; still, he’d given me no indication that was the direction we were heading.  Maybe sucking was all that was on the menu today. 

We explored each other’s bodies, working each other’s nips, checking out our pits; sniffing around like a couple of dogs.  And then he grabbed my ass, spread my cheeks and touched my hole.  I let out a grateful moan.  I was pre-lubed (hey, you go for a walk in the woods at this place, you better be), so his finger slid easily into my ass.  Our lips locked again, acting to muffle my sounds of gratitude.  I hadn’t been fucked for a good two weeks and was eager for a good plowing. 

First, he turned me about, crouched low and ate my ass.  His tongue expertly worked the insides of my hole, making me gasp.  There was something animal and primitive surging forth, as I began pushing my spread ass cheeks onto his face.  He was more than up for the challenge, relishing each and every push.  I love a man who knows how to eat ass!

Satiated, he then stood.  Knowing what was coming next, I reached for the poppers.  Joe was just thick enough that I felt I might need a little help, but he entered me before I got the opportunity to uncap them.  I was right… it hurt, and I immediately eased off his dick in order to quell my pain. After taking a hit of poppers, we continued.  Sinking in slowly, his dick hit me right where it mattered.  Buried deep, he held it there and it felt like heaven.  

He commented on how great my ass felt before slowly pulling out and then easing his way back inside.  By this point, I was completely relaxed and eager to pick up the pace, but let him drive.  Gradually his tempo increased and soon we had a nice rhythm going.  After a point, greedy little bottom that I am, I began fucking back onto his dick.  Soon I was slamming back into him.  His sturdy frame withstood my assault easily.  I fell in love with the sound of my ass pushing back onto his cock.

Arching up, I turned my head for a kiss.  He leaned forward to meet my lips, but the height difference caused his dick to plop out of my hole.  He scrambled to re-insert himself and I widened my stance in order to crouch lower and allow him maximum penetration without having to stand on his tip toes.

Resuming the pace we’d established before, I let up and allowed him to pound my ass, if only to demonstrate that I knew exactly who was the real boss of this operation.  I love it when a top takes control of my hole, and while Joe was somewhat vocal, definitely indicating how much he was enjoying himself, I never got the sense that his dominance was anything but totally natural.  We were not sub and dom; merely two naked dudes in the woods enjoying each other’s manly bodies. 

Eventually, I arched up and tried for a kiss again.  But, just as before, within moments of Joe leaning in to meet my lips, his dick missed its mark.  Now this was certainly not an issue of size, for Joe was nearly eight inches and nicely thick, so it had to have something to do with our height variance.  This time, I turned around and fell to my knees, taking his dick in my mouth.  My ass was clean as a whistle, so I had no issue with ass-to-mouth, and neither did Joe. 

I sucked on him deeply for a bit as I contemplated our next move.  As his hands gripped both sides of my head, his dick felt totally at home in my throat.  We were very in-tune with one another.  What I really wanted was to lay on my back and throw my legs in the air so he could kiss me as he fucked me.  But the idea of a back full of embedded twigs, leaves, and sand did not appeal to me at all - especially in light of the fact that we had both worked up quite the sweat. 

I suggested we walk back over the footbridge to use one of the tables in one of the empty campsites.  No one was camping out in this section, so we would have the whole place to ourselves and, even if someone should walk up on us (the thought of which excited me more than a tad, I must say), what of it?  The sight of two dudes fucking should be rather expected given the environment and event.  I know it’s a sight I would welcome discovering accidently.

He followed me to the table I had in mind – one of those giant spools on which cabling is transported.  Sans cable, they make nice tables.  I sat on the spool, facing Joe, as he stood between my legs.  We began kissing once more.  The kissing was now all-consuming, our lips, tongues, and mouths meshing perfectly.  It felt great, messing around in the great outdoors with what I considered a real man.  My legs wrapped around his body, as my dick pressed against his fur-covered abdomen. 

I definitely wanted him to fuck me - hard, but before we got to that, I wanted to try something else.  I flipped around and, with my back on the table top, laid down so my head was hanging over the table’s edge.  Sometimes this position can prove to be the perfect throat fucking configuration.  Joe was game.  As he slid his cock down my throat, my eyes welled up and I felt my gag reflex activate.  This was a bit unusual, but then I must admit, I was out of practice and hadn’t tried this position in some time. After a brief period of adjustment, my throat relaxed and Joe went to town.  As he rammed my throat, he reached over and began played with my dick.  My knees instinctively drew back, and soon, with his dick still buried deep in my throat, his fingers found my well-fucked hole.   

We remained this way until I had to come up for air.  Pushing him back, I decided my little experiment had run its course.  It was time to get back to the meat and potatoes of fucking.  Flipping about, I lowered my ass off the edge of the table enough so Joe wouldn’t have to strain in order to find my hole.  As luck would have it, it turned out to be the perfect height.  Leaning back on my elbows, I found the poppers and took a hit, preparing for the onslaught to come. 

Joe didn’t disappoint.  And I was sure glad I hit those poppers.

The man could fuck.

Given that I was in no position to fuck back, Joe was completely in charge.  He changed up his game frequently enough that I was totally enthralled and soon gasping for breath.  He wasn’t a one-note fuck, but played with the nuances of angle, depth, tempo, and thrust. What had begun as a simple stroll through the woods was turning into an epic fuck.

I was enjoying the hell out of it.  That’s part of the pleasure of being a bottom; when you can totally surrender to your top and become aware of all the various sensations a good fuck can produce.

When Joe announced that he was getting close, he asked for the poppers.  I love a top that uses poppers.  Something about it – maybe the sound, or seeing their face open up to abandon - is so fucking sexy.  As his the tempo and the power of his thrusts ramped up once more, I began concentrating on my own dick, beating it for all it was worth.  It didn’t take much.  As he unloaded deep in my gut I fired off the first volley of my own orgasm and before I knew it my abs were coated a pearly white. 

Joe, panting and in recovery mode, but still working my ass, scooped up some of my cum with his fingers and fed it to me.  I took it, like a good boy, and swallowed it down.   Still pumping in and out of my hole, he started slowing considerably until he reached the point where it felt natural to pull out.  As he did, a current of electricity sprang through my body, causing my head to jerk back.  God, that was good! 

Quickly, I jumped off the table and took Joe in my arms.  We embraced and kissed for a bit more while our bodies’, slick with sweat, cooled in the gentle afternoon breeze.  Part of me wanted to stay longer, but I also knew I needed to squeeze in a nap if I wanted to be at my best later that night. 

Joe chose to exit the way I came in, while I opted to explore the rest of the trail. Still flushed with excitement, we parted, promising to see each other later.  I don’t know why we didn’t walk out together.  It’s not like we had anything to hide.  It was probably that part of me that is always afraid of getting too close to someone right away for fear of seeming too needy.

Friday, 3:30 - 8:00 pm

 

I made my way to the other footbridge (this one in need of some considerable repair), and then retraced my steps back to my campsite.  No one else was about.  It appeared Bob had gone into town for something.  Good.  I didn’t feel like talking.

Naked and covered in man juice, I made my way to the restroom to clean up.  I wanted to feel fresh for my nap – a rest I felt I had definitely earned.  Clean and cozy inside my tent with the flap open, I was elated.  Joe was exactly the type of experience I had hoped for when I signed up for this event back in late April. I saw it as a sign of good things to come. 

I was about to drift off to sleep when the air around me was split with the piercing cry of a circular saw biting into wood.  The screech brought me out of my idyllic state.  The perpetrator was one of the campsite’s maintenance men.  He had chosen that particular moment to begin cutting 2X4’s for a wall he was installing on one end of a nearby pavilion.  It went on for what seemed like hours.  I wanted to bound out there and say something, but reminded myself that he was probably a volunteer and this may well have been the only time he could work on it.  Needless to say, I did not get my nap, though I did rest.

After an hour, I got up, not feeling a bit refreshed.  Bob was back and hiding in his tent.  If he came out, I decided not to mention my afternoon tryst. I’d worked up an appetite, so I got out some fruit and whole grain crackers.  While doing so, I noticed that my cooler was in desperate need some fresh ice.  On my way back from the bar the previous night, I had noticed a couple of coolers advertising ice for sale.  I’d have to stop in the office later and buy some.  As I was washing my snack down with orange juice, Bob made an appearance. 

I told him about the new arrivals and that I had spoken to a couple of people during my walk.  I thought things were looking up, however, this didn’t seem to buoy his spirit.  So I invited him to dinner, (provided the restaurant was open, which Mick had assured me was the case). Bob was noncommittal, and I decided not to press.  Instead, I used the excuse of needing ice to head off on my own. 

First I hit the restroom, brushed my teeth and freshened up.  Across the road from the restroom stood the restaurant and there was a sign in the window that had not been there before stating that it was open.  Because I knew I was going to buy ice and, therefore had to carry my billfold, I had donned a pair of shorts out of perceived necessity.   Glad I did.  I walked into the restaurant.  It was nice.  Cute booths, a nice counter, some tables scattered about; much nicer than I would have anticipated.  The female cook greeted me and I inquired about the ice situation.  She said she’d be happy to help me.  As I waited for her to get her keys I scanned the menu.  Not a lot – burgers, fries.  The only thing I could eat was the grilled cheese.  Oh, well, that would be fun.  And the price was certainly right. 

I got my ice, promising the woman I would be back later for dinner. 

Back at my campsite, I drained the cooler, placed the ice at the bottom of it and rearranged things.  Then I got out my laptop, sat down, and listened to an old Goldfrapp CD as I sorted files.  The CD brought back memories. 

The woman at the restaurant said the wi-fi only worked near the restaurant.  I was anxious to check my emails, so thought that if Bob chose not to go to dinner, I would take my laptop instead. 

Bob was in his tent, napping.  I waited.  And waited.  Finally I walked over to check on him.  Yep, still asleep.  It was now an hour and a half later and I decided to proceed without him.  Slipping on a t-shirt, I grabbed my laptop and padded off to the restaurant.  Ensconced in a booth with a basket of fries and a grilled cheese, I checked on my email and blogger site stats.  I didn’t mind eating alone.  Hell, I was used to it.

Finished, I was in the mood to start a fire.  Bob was out and I informed him that he’d just missed dinner.  He didn’t care.  We talked about what we might wear to the bar that night.  All I had was my boots and a leather vest.  

Bob, on the other hand, had a plethora of leather: chaps, pants, shorts, shirts, vests, harnesses, etc.  He didn’t offer to lend so I did not ask to borrow.  Maybe there’s some unspoken rule about that in the leather community – I don’t know.  My fire roaring, Bob went off to the restroom to get ready for the evening. 

As the flames leapt about and the sky turned from dusk to evening, I wondered what the odds were that my night would be as wonderful as the afternoon I’d just experienced.  And while it did matter, in a way it didn’t.  Joe had been the answer to a wish I had made back in late April.  And while that should have been enough, I still had an entire weekend ahead of me to explore. Sure, the event wasn’t everything I had hoped, but then… what is? 

As it was… I was indeed one happy little camper!

End Part III