Ma Viw

Laurel Marsh

Another stop on my way. A stop before my meeting JJ at Salmon River.  I’d like anyone reading this to get a sense of what happened over about twenty years, the twenty years of my journey to gay pigdom, a journey you may have guessed I am happy to have taken.

***

Laurel Marsh was a public park with hiking trails in Manchester, just off I-84. For a while, I had been seeing ads on Craigslist posted in the m looking for m section, ads suggesting a meeting “on the trails” at Laurel March. The postings on cruisingforsex.com, well, they seemed to say it was hit-or-miss. The hits seemed always good. The misses mostly the usual. “He did not show up.”, or “No one on the trails.”. But there were no postings for police activity. Police activity had closed a cruising place on Avon Mountain and one on the Haddam/Middletown line – this last one had been a good one, and likely a subject of these memories.

It was time to stop reading ads, time to respond to one, and just see what might happen. I did that one September afternoon. It was warm, sunny. A week-day. He said with 50s, mwm, looking for fuck. Meet in the parking lot. I answered. We set a time. 3 p.m. He would be a red Nissan Sentra sedan. I was in my white Nissan Maxima. Now all that was left was to get there. I left early, but not too early. Of course, I prepped. A good set of enemas to get clean. A quick shower to be fresh. I put on my “uniform”. It consisted of a simple tee shirt, cutoffs I had cut shorter just for times like this. They would not work well for walking down a public street; they seemed to work well for this kind of walk in the woods. Today I was trying out a new pair that had a cut in the seat to make it easier for a guy to finger my hole if he wanted, if we started with kissing and rouching. I also brought a small shoulder bag for my wallet, some wipes, poppers, and small bottle of lube. There was no room for condoms. We had agreed we would go raw.

Twenty-five minutes are leaving home, I was there. I pulled into the lot. A few cars were parked there already. This was a popular place. And it seemed not just for men. A woman with two children was getting into a car. I let her leave. I scanned the lot. There was a red Nissan Sentra parked near the mouth of one of the trails. A modest looking guy in a strap tee and shorts and sandals was standing by his car not trying to draw attention. I got out of my car and starting walking toward that same trail. A glance of recognition. He started onto the trail a head of me. After going in maybe ten feet, he stopped, waiting to see me enter the trail mouth. He silently said, “Bob?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

He started off. I followed. Of course. Bottoms follow.

The trail was not too wide. There were only occasional overhanging branches. It felt warm in the trail. I followed. I was there to be taken. I paused to take off my shirt, casually, like any guy might when feeling a bit warm. The lack of the shirt emphasized the scantiness of my shorts. And feeling the breeze on skin. I had to touch my nipples. I felt my cock respond. Though I did have to keep it from peeking out, if I could. It did not help that I had put on a cock ring before leaving home.

He stopped, then turned to the right to go into the woods. I waited a bit. Feeling my cock respond to the invitation to follow. I followed. Turned right. Ten feet in he was standing there nude, getting hard. A clear invitation.

“Bob”

“Yes. Sam?”

“Yes. Suck my cock. Then we’ll fuck.”

Direct. To do what I was there to do.

I had my shorts off. I was on my knees. His cock was in my mouth. He started to fuck my mouth, fast, hard. Yes, to get hard, to get ready to fuck me and to let me know that I was there to suck cock and get fucked - hard.

“Fuck me.”

He picked me up, turned me around.

“On your knees.”

I knelt. He knelt behind me.

“Condom?”

“No. We agreed.”

“Yes.  Just checking. The only way. You’ll get my load. I do not pull out.”

“Breed me.”

I handed him the bottle of lube. A had put some on my hole. He prepped his cock. I felt that precious feeling of a cock head on the threshold of “love.” He toyed with my hole.

“Hot. Great hole. Looks like I am not your first.”

“No.”

And I felt him push in.

I took two popper hits. My hole responded.

He was quickly balls deep. Fucking me with long, sweet strokes, almost pulling out before plunging in again.

“Shit, your hole is such a fuck tunnel. I do not meet a lot of married bottoms with real pussies. Pussies like this one.”

He began an assault on my hole. Sweat began to pour off my body. The extra popper hits just served to inflame my lust. A fucking cock in my fucking hole. Outdoors. Raw. My gay pig hole.

Just then I looked up to see two guys looking at us. Sam looked up.

“Shit.”

His cock exploded in my ass. His whole body seemed to spasm in orgasm.

“Hey” said one of the guys. “That was so hot. What’s next?”

“What do you want?” asked Sam. It felt like we were in no danger. It turned out we weren’t.

“Bob, I have to go.”

“OK.”

I just looked up and said to the guys, “He has to go; I don’t.”

“Then… don’t.”

Sam left, I squatted. I felt Sam’s load flow out of hole.

“On your knees again.”

It did not take them long to strip. One a hot black man. One a scrawning white guy. Nice cocks. Soon one in my mouth, one in my ass. No ceremony. I was there to take their loads.

I did. Wasted. Sweaty, they let me suck their cocks before getting dressed. I love driving home with a load in my ass. I only put on the shorts. No need for the shirt... did I care if someone saw me get out of the car and go into my house almost nude... no.

Could this story have more detail? Sure. But I there is more to write about. And you know I love cock.

Oink.