A Tale of Two Meatings: Part One

Last summer at the prairie was slow. Low traffic.

During the winter months, I would keep myself occupied by recounting the number of men I had contact with from May to October at the prairie. A total of 33 different guys. Which, in light of past years, felt a bit on the light side.

I could point to a number of factors to help explain this downturn in attendance: I’m getting older, there was an STI scare mid-summer (someone was passing around gonorrhea), and there was a lot of development (landscaping, equipment) in the immediate area due to a new activity-oriented organization which seemed hellbent on making the prairie just another pedestrian park. All of these could help account for the low turnout. But that did not deter me. I love the prairie, whether I am by myself or surrounded by men.

Oh, and about those other men - that 33? Only five delivered exceptional experiences. Four of them were outright bails, as in, oh, I am too nervous/this is too public for me. Several were mere make-out sessions and there were also a number I consider ‘charity work’ - meaning, they were in need and I wasn’t doing anything, so… what the hell.

In short, it was not a great summer.

Among those exceptional five…?

I was on my way to the prairie on a Sunday afternoon. It felt late and I wanted to get there before everyone had left. I’d just returned from Europe and missed two weeks of prairie time in July - rather peak season at the prairie, so I was anxious to make up for lost opportunities.

I was walking along the blacktop trail to the grotto which led to the railroad tracks, when out of the mouth of the grotto emerged a tall, slim, muscular, black dude with shoulder length braids. I eyed him as he passed me on the path and we made eye contact. It felt electric. He smiled. And kept walking.

I took another two steps before stopping dead in my tracks. I turned around just on the chance he turned around and, lo and behold, he did. Game on.

This is a major pathway, typically filled with bicyclists, joggers and hipster-kids making their way to the nude beach which is downhill from the prairie. However, on this Sunday afternoon, at this moment… it was people-free.

He grabbed his dick through his shorts and gave me a wicked, knowing smile. My heart stopped.

We began walking toward one another, our eyes locked. My heart was leaping out of my chest. This dude was exceptional. Standing face to face we both said ‘hi’. He glanced over his shoulder and then whipped out his dick. It was a beauty. Nine inches, cut and thick with lowhangers. I had hit the fuckstick jackpot! I did a quick scan of my surroundings before reaching over and grabbing his cock. Within seconds, I was bent over and throating it.  

He smelled wonderful… of fresh air and fresh funk. His cock easily slid down my throat and was hard in no time. This seemed so perfect. No struggle to accommodate. Slick. Easy. Like a wet dream. His moans of approval let me know he was enjoying it too. As he expanded in my throat, I grew more and more excited. I shoved my shorts down, so he could check out my ass. I wanted him to know that it was on the table, too… if he was interested.

At that moment, out of the corner of my eye, I caught some movement down the blacktopped path: a bicyclist had just turned the curve and was heading toward us. I quickly jumped up and jumped back away from Mr. Braids. Fuck. It figures. If something is too good to be true, it is. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the biker and wrestled his python back into his shorts. His dick, pendulous, simply hung there, tenting out the front of his baggy shorts. Such a waste of talent.

I began making small talk. He was on his way to the bus stop and had to be somewhere by a certain time. I asked which direction. I was familiar with the area he wanted to go. It was about 15 minutes away. Immediately torn, as I continued to learn more about him, in my head I was trying to decide whether I should offer to give him a ride. But doing so would cut into my time at the prairie and I was almost there… but this dude! How could I pass up the chance?

Ultimately, I let him walk away because I really missed the prairie. He promised he would see me again, soon. I shared with him when I was typically at the prairie, where he could find me and we parted ways.

I instantly regretted not giving him a ride. He and his awesome cock stayed on my mind. He was new in town and didn’t know very many people. Hey, I am ‘people’. Get to know me!

The next day, I even went so far as to post an ad on Craiglist’s ‘Missed Connections’, just out of the odd chance that I had stayed on his mind, as well…

Wirth Parkway / Twin Lake (Golden Valley / North Minneapolis)

Hey. We met accidentally on Sunday on the black top pathway near Wirth Parkway. I was on my way to Twin Lake and you had just come from there. You had to go catch a bus, and I have been kicking myself since then for not giving you a ride. You said you would be at the lake again... fingers crossed. If you see this, get in touch. I am sane and a nice guy... I just want what you got! Would love for you to give ME a ride. Send a description of yourself and what we were doing when we got interrupted by that bicyclist. Really wanna follow-thru and finish what I started. HMU.

Yeah, desperate, I know, I know… but I thought, what the hell. Give it a shot.

I did get a reply. It was from some anonymous fuck who wrote: “This never happened.”

Well, it did.

And I wanted it to happen again…

…and, fortunately, it did!

- End of Part One - 

When Will I See You Again - The Three Degrees