Coasting Along

The taste of his cum was still fresh in my mouth as we made our way along the tangled overgrown path, crouching under twisted tea-tree branches and other obstructions until we came out of the thicket and back onto the regular trail. 

He walked slightly ahead of me and I was able to admire his firm shapely buttocks encased in his long shorts as he bent over and dodged the various trunks and branches, the sight filling me with a sense of regret. 

Ordinarily I would have spent quite some time between those beautiful cheeks, rimming and kissing his “mancunt” (being a married man he liked to use that term) before fucking him until we were both drained and exhausted. But needs must, and neither of us had been able to host this time around. 

The thicket and its jumbled almost impassable trail had provided us with some semblance of privacy for our long overdue rendezvous. He lived on the coast and I had a small beach house in a nearby town, so we generally managed to catch up three or four times a year, although matters had intervened of late and it had been way too long between fuckings.

We met in a cafe close to the beach and it was good to be with him again, even fully clothed. He has a few years on me, and I’m in my late sixties, but he exudes a lived-in vitality which I find as attractive as his handsome face and compact body. 

We chatted amiably over coffee and cake, not quite knowing how things might develop given our “homeless” situation, but I knew that I wanted to kiss him, real bad. He’s very kissable, and there have been times when we have kissed for hours, before during and after sex.

Fortunately the day was blustery and slightly cool for the time of year, so there were fewer people about than there might ordinarily have been, which happily suited our purposes. Strolling along the foreshore I put my arm around his shoulder and he put his around my waist, taking pleasure in a rare moment of public intimacy.

Noticing a barely discernible break in the riot of tea-tree and gum that separated the beach from the road he led me up towards it and we disappeared into its sun dappled depths. An overgrown path barely worthy of the name snaked its way into a small clearing, a jumble of shrubs and branches that seemed to cut out the wind and all sense of the world just beyond.

Turning to me we embraced and kissed and held each other as if we never wanted to let go, our tongues twining almost desperately, feeding off each other. I held his head in my hands and drew back briefly, looking at him intently, telling him how beautiful he is. Both of our cocks twitched noticeably.

We kiss again as I run my hand over the shape of his stiffening penis inside his shorts. I fumble for his fly and pull it down, happy to find that he isn’t wearing anything underneath. The warm flesh of his cock feels so good, a hint of precum seeping from his piss-slit too much for me to bear. 

Dropping to my knees I pull his cock out and just stare at it for a moment. He knows that I love his penis and chuckles as I gently hold it in my hand, savouring its weight, leaning in to smell its scent and lick the juice from the tip. 

His cock is fleshy and heavy and far bigger than mine, with a wide dark circumcision scar around the shaft which I find erotic and irresistible. The last time we’d had sex at my house he very graciously allowed me to suck and fondle his spent tool for a good 30 minutes after he’d blown in my mouth, and even then I’d only stopped because he had to get home to his wife.

If I allow myself to linger on his cock for a while longer (and what better place to linger….), I can remember the first time I saw it and held it in my hand, put it in my mouth. He is not a big man, though fit and well defined, and his cock hung down between his legs thick and long and heavy, and very beautiful. A big man’s penis, serious and needing to be taken seriously.

Despite this he is far more centred on his bum and loves to be rimmed and fucked and spanked. He is one of the few men who has brought me to a double-orgasm within the space of a few minutes while still inside him. He can work his sphincter like a hand, and sometimes when I’m fucking him it feels as if I’m being jerked off by an expert.

He tried fucking me once, and did infact succeed with the help of copious amounts of lube and much loosening up on my part. He confessed that he’d never fucked a guy before and preferred to be fucked, which was hardly a secret. He came almost as soon as he was inside me, which was a relief, but we were both pleased to have managed it at least once.

But I’m a cock man when all is said and done, and I love his cock whether it’s hard or soft. His balls, perhaps surprisingly, are tight and compact like him, although I have managed on a number of occasions to take them into my mouth and suck on them, gently. He can be quick to orgasm, so when I’m sucking or jerking him he is careful to let me know how he’s going, in case he shoots too soon for what we have planned. 

I was sucking him now as we stood in the middle of our secret glade, my hands up the legs of his shorts fondling his balls and fingering his puckered hole. I know how much he wants me to fuck him, but that would have to wait for another day. 

His cock is leaking precum into my mouth, salty and sweet. He’s very close. He runs his fingers through my hair and tells me that he can’t hold on any longer. I suck harder, tonguing the taut underside of his engorged knob, guaranteed to bring him to orgasm. 

His entire body jerks and my mouth fills with his hot rich cream, spurt after spurt, sweet and smooth as it slides down my throat. He cums again and again until at last his spasms wane and there is no more to swallow. 

I want to keep his softening cock in my mouth, but aware of our uncertain situation he lets it slip from between my lips to hang heavy and wet and dripping in front of my face. I lick it clean, letting it slide one last time into my mouth before I stand up to kiss him again. 

Looking down I ask if I can take a photo of his sloppy dick, which he laughs at but allows before manhandling it back into his pants.

Aware that I have yet to cum he rubs the front of my shorts and asks if I need a bit of relief. Almost an afterthought, so intent had I been on pleasuring him, I pull down my fly and bring out my stiff prick, the foreskin already pulled back from the leaking head. 

I turn around and lean against him as he puts his arms around me and starts running his fingers up and down my slippery shaft. I reach back and put both hands inside his pants, running my fingers through his luxuriant bush; another passion. 

I shoot almost immediately, watching the ropes of cum arc into the air before disappearing amongst the leaves and bark that covers the ground. He holds me for a few minutes, kissing the back of my neck while I recover. I fold the skin back over my knob, shaking off the strands of jizz hanging from it, before putting myself back together.

Turning to him he smiles and thanks me, as if I didn’t have the whole world to thank him for.