Blonde Boy

My happiness has long been tied to the whim of others.

I don’t cruise those bushes in the local park because I’m horny, although that’s the premise. Those bushes aren’t just to cover my late-night indiscretions, but also to hide my loneliness.

If I were just wanting to get a load off, I’d dump it in the nearest hole and run. There’s plenty of them, depending on how selective you are. I’ve been desperate, and made that mistake that many of us won’t admit we’ve made. The one that you quickly brush aside, but every now and then your mind tries to recall it, and you learn to push that memory away.

But that memory you so artfully learned to push aside becomes a marker for just how low you’ll go.

Blonde Boy of just above driving age made his occasional appearance on that fateful night. And when I say occasional, in the several dozen visits spanning five years, I’ve seen him a total of three times.

This was the third time that the slim, ridiculously handsome boy tentatively pondered the cruising area’s discretionary edges and the first time that he acknowledged me.

I’m not invisible to most, but I'm not the prime rib that many seek.

I only envy that Blonde Boy would turn heads, no matter where he walks and who ends up with him.

If you’re in the right place at the right time, and the stars align, and the winds come from the right direction, you may get lucky beyond your own expectations.

Blonde Boy was the pinnacle polar opposite to my low.

My heart leapt when he noticed me. Triple-somersaulted when he slowly followed me. I checked back, as I walked the path into the bush, where not even the moonlight dared to follow me.

But he did.

Accustomed to the lay of the land, and in a part of the cruising area that was known only to the hardened regulars, that would not attract accidental late-night walkers or any other type of interruptions, I turned and expected him to walk on by.

He bent to clear the overhanging branch and entered my space.

I put my dick out, because he’d struggle to see it and at this point it was, ‘see by touch’.

And touch he did.

His surprisingly warm hand came out, which had obviously been warmed by his pockets, because even though the night wasn’t that cold, it was chilly enough to require coats. Summer was still coming.

I swear I nearly jizzed when his hand touched me, like I was some inexperienced boy, and not the just over thirty-year-old man lusting after those youth.

So I stepped in and reached out, feeling his bulge which hadn’t been released yet and was only just starting to notice me.

It was big, probably about 7 inches. My tentative, but experienced hands felt for a button, then a zipper, and undies. He smelled so good, and my mind conjured the image of him from earlier, and tried to envision him in that darkness, standing there, with his zipper down and my hands reaching into his pants.

As I grabbed his cock and it pulsed and pushed into my hands, he moved in closer too, so that we were touching. I was happy to rub our cheeks, and to share that intimate moment, while we worked the rest out. There was always that fear they’d run away, which happened on occasion.

But he didn’t run, nor did he move away from the overly intimate way in which I moved my face too lose to his and breathed against his neck. In fact he shocked me in more ways on that mid-spring night than I could ever have expected.

He turned his face to mine and pressed his lips against me and kissed me.

Again, my mine conjured the imagine of him, his face, what I thought were blue eyes, vaguely dark-blue, and his strong jawline, high cheekbones, slim but potentially defined body and cute, beyond description face.

When he kissed me, my arms instinctively wrapped around him and pulled him into me.

In the embrace, our dicks pressed against each other, pressing into our lower bellies, and feeling the warmth of him from under his coat as it intermingled with my warmth, and then his hand reached behind me to bring me in closer too, as his tongue pushed through my lips and met mine.

I was out of my depth with this guy.

I’d scraped the bottom of the barrel, and only put in the bare minimum, but at the top of the pinnacle, I was willing to throw in my entire being.

He kissed like a champion. His tongue was so hot, and exploratory, and his hands were insistent and tender. Not the profile I’d dressed him in.

Then he dropped to his knees and took my dick in his hands, which would have been only about an inch bigger than his, and potentially thicker, though I’d only felt his dick for a few seconds so wasn’t that sure.

His mouth wrapped around it, tenderly kissing the tip, before I felt his warm mouth slide down onto my cock and the sensation was out of this world.

Sure, he’s not got the mouth of an experienced sucker, but with an angelic face like his, just touching it felt like a gift that I should savour.

If I could give this guy some lessons, I’d tell him to watch his teeth, bring the mouth in tighter into an ‘O’ and firm, but not too tight, and slowly push down onto the cock, while using one hand to gently stroke the cock.

Perhaps one day I’ll become an Instagram or YouTube influencer instructing many on the art of sucking dick.

To say that I looked forward to him stopping and coming back up to me would be incorrect.

I looked forward to him kissing me again more than I’d enjoyed him sucking my dick.

And as we resumed that surprisingly passionate kiss, my hands squeezed his arse, and I was not disappointed to feel that it was like holding two rock melons.

Again we rubbed dicks against the other, and I figured it was my turn to suck his, so I dropped to my knees and was surprised to discover that his dick was bigger than I’d estimated.

I’d say we were both around the 8-inch mark, and both had foreskin, and both quite thick.

Essentially, I sucked my own dick, which was a scary thought.

The head was really hot, and delicious, as it slid right to the back of my throat, and I expertly let his dick slide into my mouth.

It would be fair to say that I wanted him to draw parallels between our sucking skills, given we were so similar.

He moaned as I took the entire dick all the way in my mouth, squeezing in the right places, while ensuring my teeth were not in the picture.

His throbbing dick slid in and out of my mouth with typical, youthful vigour, and I was all for it. One hand cupping his balls, which were smooth and hot, and tight, and another caressing his arse, feeling around the crack, and gently probing towards that ultimate of goals.

I sucked, and he moaned, while my sneaky finger rubbed around his hole. He spread a little, letting me know he was liking it, so I continued.

It really did throb, getting hotter as it filled my mouth, while my finger came back and I added saliva, before sending it for further exploration. I’d had a good sniff too, because you need to assess whether it’s clean, of course.

So far so good.

His hole felt so tight, and so smooth, and so moist, with barely the tip of my finger massaging it while I sucked at the front. He opened his legs more, so I licked the opposite hand’s index finger and pushed that through his legs and upturned it direct to his arsehole.

He opened up for me like a flower.

So I explored a little more.

A quarter of an inch entered, while about 8 of them slid down my throat.

He held my head gently while fucking my mouth, and I helped him propel it in with a firm hand, and a finger up his butt.

That finger got in a bit more, and it got dry, so I licked it again, and still was happy it was fresh, so went back for more.

I know how these things work without having to ask.

He was going to take my cock.

Somehow, I could tell he wasn’t too far off nutting.

I slowed, and stood. He rewarded me with a big kiss, pressing up against me, once more letting our dicks get acquainted.

My hand squeezed his arse, and when there was a small pause, I moved to his ear and licked it, then whispered. “I really want to fuck you right now.”

The moonlight had found me. Or rather, fragments of it had found Blonde Boy’s face because he was suddenly illuminated, reminding me what handsome features I beheld in that dark space.

He shook his head.

“Not here.”

At first, I was disappointed.

Damn.

I was sure he was going to let me fuck him.

Thinking he needed persuading, I kissed him again, and he was back into the kiss.

We had the connection, he was clearly a bottom, and he was clean, and I was ready and more than up for it, so what was the problem?

As our kiss deepened, into a passionate one that had me wondering how I’d feel once he walked away, and he pulled me in tighter, perhaps to ward off the evening chill, my hand went around to his arse, and to that pleasure centre I know we’d both enjoy if he’d let me.

Wait. ‘Not here’ he’d said.

I pulled away from the kiss, and tried to see his face, which was difficult with the moon playing 'hide and seek' through the bush.

“Where and when can I?” I asked, pushing my luck.

“Your place?” his response was quick.

My heart tried to exit my chest and nod vigorously.

“Sure. Now?” I asked, expecting him to say he couldn’t.

“Yeah. I got the bus here though…” he started.

“I drove, and live nearby,” I finished.

In response, he kissed me again for a few seconds, while I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was feeling like an over-excited toddler.

And when he took my hand and pulled me after him as he walked out of the bush, and I realised that he meant right now, my legs trembled a little too.

We walked out into the dim light, and followed the path. He let my hand go but walked beside me.

“I’m Brett,” he said, which he added with a cute and adoringly innocent smile.

“Hey…” I said, realising I was struggling to get simple words out. Then, realising I hadn’t offered my name, I added, “Oh, I’m Scott.”

I do have a nice car, thanks to the mini-boom my new business had experienced over the holidays recently, I’d purchased a battery-powered, highly technical, almost fully autonomous car. It gleamed in the night alone in the small car park by the river.

“Nice car,” he said, appraising me differently.

When I started the car, I’d forgotten I’d had a nostalgic Britney playing.

“Baby hit me one more time,” she bellowed in the small space.

“Nice tunes,” he added, as I turned the volume down, and scrambled for an excuse that would un-emasculate me.

“Oh…um, yeah…I was…she…” I’m not that smart.

He laughed. “I like Britney,” he was smarter than me.

“How old are you?” I asked, realising I may have pegged him wrong.

“Twenty-three. And you?”

“Oh wow! I thought you were way younger!” I stammered, glancing at him with surprise before navigating the sleek car onto the main road.

“You like little boys?” he asked.

I turned to gape at him, realising I’d trapped myself.

“What? Oh! No! I meant…”

Fuck.

A mining excavator couldn’t get me out of this one.

But the smarter one in the car, did.

“I’m stirring you. I like older guys.”

I liked him instantly more, if that was even possible.

“And you didn’t tell me how old you are, Scott,” watching me as I drove the short distance to my house.

“What…? Oh…yeah, sorry. I’m thirty. Wait! Thirty-one!”

“You sure?” he asked with a grin I wanted to lick.

“I’m sure I’m not very good at talking,” I said, and instantly regretted having spoken at all.

Brett laughed, and put a hand on my leg and I assumed it was a pitiful, ‘there, there now’ pat.

Like batman, I have a lane way that leads to my hard-to-find driveway, with double-garages that my controller can open, but cannot be opened otherwise. Security cameras activated, as did the auto-lights.

Unlike batman, I did not have an impressively tidy, expensive home.

I had not expected visitors, and so had not done the dishes, was pretty sure my floor was still waiting to be cleaned, and had gotten out of the habit of making my bed long ago.

My compulsion was to run around and clean up, but I turned to him with a sheepish expression hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Where would you like to fuck me?” he said, with a glint in his dark-blue eyes.