I was out walking the dogs during summer last year, and... well, let me set the scene.
There is a lodge house at the old entrance to a large house. Typical English large house setting, if you can imagine. The lodge is surrounded on three sides by woods, with a single-track road running 2 miles through them to the main house, which is now a wedding and training venue. The track is no longer used and basically leads nowhere, becoming a bridleway at the end. The lodge house is nice and small as you would expect, and the occupiers are no longer staff of the house, I assumed. Probably, privately owned now because they had two cars and a small garden in a very peaceful setting.
I didn't know the owner, but this would change very soon and would lead to us becoming accidental friends with benefits, and in terms of kinks, he would embrace my desires in a way that I still find interesting from a stranger.
So, back to the true story, having set the scene.
I came across the fields from my farm. My dogs were off their leads and trotted ahead as I followed the hedge line towards the woods. As I rounded the bend, I stepped onto the track, the lodge coming into view. And there he was, a man, bent over the bonnet of his old Volvo estate. The hosepipe snaked across the gravel, water glistening on the ground as he was washing his car.
Nothing unusual with that, you say.
But he was virtually naked, wearing only white Marks & Spencer Y-fronts, sagging heavily with absorbed water. Rivulets of water snaked down his calves onto the driveway, forming reflective pools around his bare feet. He scrubbed vigorously at a mud splatter on the bumper, muscles bunching in his back with each stroke, and I gazed upon his bottom, covered by stretched white cotton fabric.
"Nice arse, I thought," as my dogs, being Cockapoo's, ever friendly, trotted straight over and gave Mick's wet leg a customary sniff. Mick straightened abruptly, startled, and he turned to face me with his eyes, wide and slightly alarmed.
"Girls I shouted, as I looked at him.
He looked amazing in his wet Y-Fronts. The soaked cotton clung obscenely, plastered to thick thighs and outlining every contour. Water darkened the fabric to near-transparency, revealing shadows and shapes beneath that left little to the imagination, and he radiated a raw, unselfconscious masculinity that was impossible to ignore even though he had to be in his early 50s.
His startled expression softened into amused embarrassment as I closed the distance. "Sorry about the dogs," I called out, unable to suppress a grin. "They're friendly but..." My gaze drifted pointedly downward before snapping back to his face. "...I have to comment. Didn't expect this type of view during my afternoon stroll today."
His startled expression shifted to surprise, then warmed with a slow, appreciative grin. "Caught red-handed," he chuckled, wiping sudsy hands on his soaked underwear. "Better view than the usual sheep in the fields, I hope?"
I laughed, stepping closer. "Honestly? Much better," as I cock my head, I added, "I'm amazed your wife lets you prance around like this."
"She's out with our daughter, shopping in the Galerria in Hatfield."
"I see," I said. "When the cat's away, the mice do play," I responded with a chuckle. "She's a very fortunate woman from what I can see, having a man like you to wash the cars."
The innuendo wasn't lost on him. "Sorry," he said, running a wet hand through his damp, greying hair, leaving soapy streaks. "If it offends you, my being like this, I'm sorry." His gesture encompassed the clinging underwear, the wet driveway, and his entire vulnerable state.
"Oh, not at all," I told him, stepping onto the gravel. "I quite like the transparent and macho look."
His grin widened, less apologetic now, tinged with genuine curiosity. He leaned casually against the dripping Volvo, crossing one bare ankle over the other. The soaked cotton strained obscenely across his thick thighs, outlining the swell of muscle beneath. "You never washed your car wearing just your underwear?"
"I have, to be honest," I answered, "and I enjoyed the erotic feeling too, but I get no walkers passing through my garden."
"I'm sure you did, and I'm sure you look equally good. Just like me."
"Perhaps, but I've never.....," I told him.
I'm not sure what triggered his physical response. Maybe my lingering gaze, the bold compliment, or just the absurd intimacy of the situation, but I could see he was starting to become aroused. The damp cotton was straining further against the burgeoning swell.
"Shame, your wife isn't here, she might enjoy helping you with that," I said, now sniggering out loud, as his cock had grown by then into a full erection, sort of hidden behind his Y-Fronts.
"Well, she isn't here sadly, but in fairness, she wouldn't anyway," he answered.
"Oh. I guess you will have to knock one out when you finish, later," I suggested, more as a statement than an offer.
A sudden silence settled between us, thick as the afternoon humidity. An awkward moment, to say the least.
"I might have too, unless....," He started.
"Unless, what?" I demanded, wondering if he might like a man to settle his desire.
"Unless you want to offer assistance, if I'm reading the vibe incorrectly," he said.
"Very astute of you," I said as I looked at him, assessing and gauging his possible response. "I would love to, if you don't mind. I wouldn't mind dealing with that, and it looks like you need the release, mate. I'm also very good at what I do."
"Call me, Mick," as he pushed his Y-Fronts down, declaring, "It's all yours," as they fell to his ankles.
I couldn't resist and stepped towards him, dropping to my knees. He groaned softly as I took him in my mouth, one hand braced against the wet Volvo’s bodywork. My dogs, blissfully ignorant, shuffling through flowerbeds nearby, their tails wagging at unseen wonders in the hydrangeas, as I started to deep throat him towards a quick orgasm.
His taste flooded my senses as my jaw stretched wide to accommodate his girth, but I relished the strain, the rhythmic bob of my head punctuated by his ragged breaths. Sun-warmed gravel dug into my knees, the scent of wet earth and cut grass sharp in the humid air. Mick’s fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding, just anchoring, his hips jerking involuntarily each time my throat swallowed him whole.
His arousal thickened further, pulsing against my tongue as I worked him with expert suction, driving him towards his release. When it happened, Mick bucked sharply, his release hot and sudden, flooding my mouth with a bitter saltiness as I swallowed greedily.
He shuddered, legs trembling, one hand slapping against the car’s hood with a loud slap that echoed off the lodge stones. For a long moment, he slumped against the Volvo, breathing hard, while I remained on my knees, licking him clean. His softening cock glistened in the sunlight. He offered a shaky laugh. "Bloody hell," he breathed, voice thick with disbelief. "You weren’t exaggerating about being very good at what you do."
I stood up and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. "I never joke, and thanks for the....moment. Thank you."
"You leaving already?" he asked. "What about your own arousal?"
"I will deal with that in the woods, but the dogs have to come first before they get bored," I stated, as I looked at them both, lying on his lawn, waiting patiently.
"I could come with you if you fancy," Mick declared as he pulled his Y-Fronts up.
"You're okay, Mick. You'd better finish washing the car before your war office arrives home. If you are interested, though, when you finish, come and find me. I am walking the loop around the woods."
"Fair enough, but I don't know your name."
"It's Steve, and I will be very happy to share a walk in the woods. Depends on you, though. But if you do decide to have some fun, be prepared, it's like beefy guys, just like you, and you have to replenish yourself"
I walked off with the dogs following. My cock ached for attention, tenting not just my Amazon Essentials but my shorts too as Mick stood trying to absorb what had just happened. My own thoughts are absorbed with the idea that I blew a guy, washing his car and the fact that that doesn't happen that often.
Mick shouted after me, "How will I find you on the loop?"
"I turned to him, walking backwards for a moment, "Seek and ye will find. I will leave some clues."
"Clues? What clues? Tell me, Steve. Quickly."
"You will know," I continued. "I like being fucked in the woods. Just follow the clues," and at that, I turned facing forward, smiling to myself, certain he would come looking, as I walked into the woods, the dogs ahead of me now.
Cutting through the trees, I joined the circular path that loops around the woods.
My dogs raced ahead, noses to the ground, tails whipping through the bracken. The ache between my legs was insistent, a throbbing counterpoint to the crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot. The humid air pressed close, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine resin. I adjusted myself discreetly, the fabric of my shorts rasping against my erection. Mick’s taste lingered in my mouth, salty, musky, a visceral reminder of his desperation against my tongue. Would he come? The uncertainty buzzed under my skin like static.
Regardless of whether he decided to come or not come, I would have to seek re; ease at some point, but I decided to leave clues just in case, and so, I kicked my sandals off, enjoying the sensation of grass and leaves against my feet as I left them where I had discarded them.
Privacy wasn't a concern. My family had owned these woods for generations, part of the sprawling estate bordering Mick's rented lodge. Few locals used the paths; Mrs Henderson's arthritic spaniel might hobble through on Sundays, or old Tom Fletcher foraging for mushrooms in autumn. Today, the green cathedral belonged to me alone, as my cock strained urgently against my shorts as I pictured Mick finishing his car wash, that towel-draped Volvo gleaming under the afternoon sun. Would the thought of finding me make him hurry?
I continued to walk while the dogs explored the undergrowth. My senses heightened, my desire unrelenting as I pushed my shorts with trembling fingers over my bottom, allowing them to slide down my legs until I stepped out of them, leaving them equally discarded where they lay. Overhead, a wood pigeon cooed lazily, oblivious to the fact that I was now wearing just my t-shirt and white Amazon Essentials briefs.
I would subsequently find out that Mick had decided to follow me. As Mick would describe later, he finished cleaning the car, put the hosepipe and bucket away and then headed into the woods, dressed as I had left him.
As I continued to walk, my cock strained obscenely against the thin white cotton, damp with sweat that clung to my skin from humid exertion, and leakage of precum. The dogs paused, ears pricked toward a sound, tails wagging cautiously, and I wondered if they knew something I didn't.
I walked on for a while and decided another breadcrumb was required, so I removed my t-shirt. The humid air prickled against my bare torso, sticky and close as I dropped it on the path. My discarded shorts lay a quarter-mile back, sandals forgotten near the trailhead. Each piece was a promise, a beacon for Mick if he dared to follow.
The dogs trotted ahead, oblivious to my escalating desperation. My cock strained against the sweaty Amazon Essentials, damp cotton clinging to every contour. Pre-cum slicked the fabric, darkening it where it stretched taut over the flushed head. I paused beneath a twisted oak, heart hammering against my ribs as I imagined Mick discovering my trail, sandals first, then shorts, each discarded garment a siren call to venture deeper into the woods. Would he recognise the game? Would he hurry?
As Mick would tell me later, he entered the woods and almost tripped over my sandals, and he then worked out what I had planned as he followed the path, leaving my sandals for collection later.
The briefs felt like a second skin now, sweat-slicked cotton clinging with suffocating intimacy. Every step sent friction buzzing up my thighs, the fabric rasping against my swollen cock with maddening precision. Pre-cum soaked through the thin material, plastering it dark and translucent against the flushed head. How long had it been? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? The ache had deepened into a visceral throb, primal and insistent. Overhead, sunlight dappled through the canopy, painting shifting patterns on the path ahead. A woodpecker hammered somewhere distant, sharp staccato beats syncopating with the frantic pulse between my legs.
"Enough," I muttered to myself. One way or another, my cock would be dealt with, as I muttered, "Time to lose the briefs, me thinks."
With anticipation making my fingers tremble, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the Amazon Essentials briefs. In one swift motion, I pushed them down past my hips, thighs, and knees and stepped out of them completely, leaving them lying crumpled on the fern-strewn path. I strode forward naked, fully exposed to the humid woodland air. My erection stood thick and flushed, bobbing slightly with each step, a stark declaration of vulnerability and intent.
Without the confines of fabric, the sensation was electrifying; every whisper of breeze, every dangling honeysuckle vine that brushed against my thighs, sent fresh jolts of desperate arousal coursing through me. I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Mick emerging from the green gloom, drawn by the trail of discarded clothes. But only my dogs, noses buried in a fox's scent trail near a cluster of foxgloves, acknowledged my presence.
Ahead, nestled under the spreading branches of a beech tree, stood a couple of heavy, plastic water butts, used to supply water to young pheasants but now, my temporary destination. The ache in my cock was a constant thrum, demanding release, and the smooth, curved plastic seemed perfect to sit on as I pushed one over.
Sitting astride it, the cool surface grounding my bare skin, I reached down and wrapped my fingers around my aching cock, a low groan escaping my lips. The touch was pure relief, slick with sweat and pre-cum. I began a slow, deliberate rhythm, stroking myself with practised ease, lost momentarily in the primal sensation. My gaze drifted upwards, unfocused, taking in the canopy overhead.
Both dogs’ ears snapped forward simultaneously. Before I registered anything, they bounded through the bracken toward a gap in the trees, tails whipping with eager recognition. Only then did I hear the crunch of approaching footsteps. My hand froze mid-stroke. Turning slowly, I saw Mick emerge from the dense undergrowth, his eyes instantly locking onto mine, wide and hungry. He hadn't changed: still clad only in those sagging white M&S Y-fronts, now sweat-darkened at the waistband. His own arousal was unmistakable, pressing urgently against the soaked cotton, tenting it obscenely upward.
Sweat traced paths down his thick chest, glistening in the dappled sunlight. He breathed heavily, nostrils flaring as he took in my nakedness. Perhaps fifty feet away, he pushed his Y-Fronts down, kicking them to one side as he approached me.
"Thanks for the breadcrumbs, Steve."
"I wasn't sure if you would come, Mick."
"I couldn't resist your offer, and once I knew you planned to be found naked, the urgency became almost unbearable," he responded.
"I assume you approve?" I asked. "Like what you see, and what have you in your hand?"
He stood in front of me as I rested on the water barrel, his fingers now pinching my nipples. "I do indeed, and you look....so ripe for taking, and I brought a small tube of lube."
"In that case, you'd better take me then, all of me," I told him, dying to be fucked by this beefy guy I had only met that day.
Without waiting for a further invitation, Mick bent forward, taking my cock deep into his mouth in one swift, hungry motion. His lips sealed around me, hot and wet, sucking with an urgency that stole my breath. The sudden heat engulfed me, a searing contrast to the woodland air. I dropped backwards as my hips jerked involuntarily off the barrel, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. Mick groaned around me, the vibration humming through my core. His hands slid to my thighs, fingers digging into flesh as he worked me steadily. The sounds were obscenely loud: the slick slide of his mouth, my ragged gasps mingling with distant birdsong.
His nose pressed against my lower abdomen with each deep plunge, breath hot against my skin. I tangled my fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, guiding but not forcing, feeling the powerful flex of his neck muscles. Mick’s urgency was palpable; this wasn't tender exploration but raw, pent-up need finally unleashed.
His eyes flickered up to mine, dark and intense beneath furrowed brows. The pressure built swiftly, coiling tight in my lower belly. Distantly, my dogs rustled through ferns, oblivious chaperones to this primal scene as my cock throbbed against the insistent suction, filling Mick's mouth.
He gagged softly but didn't retreat, swallowing around my intrusion. The wet heat intensified, the rhythmic bob of his head accelerating. My fingers tightened reflexively in his hair, pulling him closer as my hips bucked upwards. He moaned again, the sound muffled, vibrating through me. Release hovered agonizingly close, a white-hot point of inevitability. Every nerve screamed for it. Mick sensed it too; his movements became frantic, desperate. One hand slid up my chest, fingers grazing my nipple. His eyes locked onto mine, burning with hunger. "Cum for me," he gasped, the word ragged and thin.
The command shattered my control. My spine arched violently, lifting me off the cool plastic barrel as a guttural cry tore from my throat. Hot pulses surged into Mick’s waiting mouth. He swallowed greedily, his throat working against me, eyes clenched shut in fervent concentration. Each spasm ripped through me, leaving me trembling and weak. Mick held on fiercely, milking every drop until the shuddering subsided. Only then did he pull back, lips slick and swollen, breathing heavily. A glistening trail escaped the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with his finger, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Told you," he rasped. "So ripe."
Before I could gather my thoughts, Mick stood. His own erection stood thick and flushed, straining towards my nakedness. Sunlight caught the sweat beading on his shoulders.
He stepped forward, pushing my legs apart wider against the barrel's curve. His hands gripped my hips, calloused fingers digging into my skin. The scent of our exertion mingled with decaying leaves and damp earth. No words were needed. His intent radiated from him, primal and unmistakable. He squeezed the tube of lube deliberately into his palm, slicking himself roughly.
He pressed forward bluntly, thick and insistent. The initial stretch burned, sharp and breathtaking. A ragged gasp escaped me. Mick froze, his eyes searching mine. "You alright?" His voice was gravelly, strained.
I nodded mutely, teeth gritted. He pushed deeper slowly, pain yielding to an intense, stretching fullness that stole my breath. Inch by relentless inch, he pushed himself fully inside me, panting. His head dropped forward, forehead touching mine. His breath was hot, smelling faintly of salt and soap. "Christ, you are snug", he breathed.
He began to move, slowly, deep thrusts at first, testing the resistance. Each withdrawal was excruciating, each penetration a relief. The plastic barrel groaned beneath our combined weight. My hands scrabbled for purchase on its smooth surface. Pleasure began to thread through the discomfort, coiling low in my belly.
Mick groaned, low and resonant. His pace quickened, thrusts becoming harder, faster. The slap of his hips against my thighs echoed sharply off the trees. Sweat stung my eyes. He gripped my hips tighter, pulling me forcefully onto him with each drive. The friction ignited, burning away the last of the pain, replacing it with a desperate, mounting urgency. His thrusts lost rhythm, became urgent, frantic jerks.
His breath hitched, a harsh, choked sound. "Steve..." His fingers dug deeper, bruisingly hard. He was close, I could tell. The sounds filled the clearing, skin slapping skin, Mick's ragged grunts, the wet slide echoing obscenely loud against the quiet woods.
He slammed into me one last time, deep, impossibly deep, burying himself completely. His body locked rigid, a shudder ripping through him. A strangled groan escaped his lips, followed by a low, guttural cry as he pulsed inside me, flooding me with sudden, wet heat. I felt each throbbing release, intense and intimate. He slumped forward, forehead pressed against my stomach, his entire body trembling against mine. His cock twitched weakly within me as he emptied himself.
For a long moment, he stayed buried, breathing hard, his weight heavy and spent against me. The cool plastic of the barrel pressed into my backside, a sharp contrast to the heated sweat slicking our bodies. I ran a shaky hand up his damp spine, feeling the powerful muscles relax under my touch. He lifted his head slowly, eyes dazed, pupils blown wide.
A lazy, utterly satisfied smile spread across his face. "Christ, Steve," he breathed, voice thick and rough. "That was... bloody perfect," as he pulled out slowly, gently, leaving an aching emptiness and a slick trail down my thigh.
Mick leaned against the water barrel as I continued to lie on top, my fingers now playing with his pubic hair as I asked. "I guess you have cum for quite a while."
"Steve, I have to be honest, I have never been with a man before, and since my wife isn't interested in sex anymore, I had thought once or twice about... well, you know, and then, you happened to pass by."
"And, how do you feel now after shagging me?" I asked softly, not allowing him to judge his sexuality too roughly.
"It felt strangely good and natural in a different way, Steve," Mick said, his gaze steady on mine as he traced a finger along my finger, playing with his pubic hair. "I also had the best orgasm I have ever experienced, and now, talking to you, I desire more. Call it what you like, closeness, understanding, I don't know, but I have a desire to have a close friendship with occasional benefits."
I nodded slowly, understanding the unspoken need in his words. "Would you like to shag me again, Mick?"
"What today? Now?"
"No, you silly bugger. I'm offering you a friendship with benefits if you keep fucking me like that."
Mick chuckled, the sound rough but warm. "Friendship with benefits? Sounds perfect." He ran his hand along my thigh, his touch lingering. "When....? When can we meet again?"
"It was that good, was it?" I demanded to know.
Mick chuckled softly. "Bloody hell, Steve. Like fireworks going off inside me." His fingers traced lazy circles on my thigh, sticky with sweat and lube as the afternoon sun filtered through the leaves onto his flushed, muscular shoulders, highlighting the sheen of exertion. My dogs reappeared nearby, tails wagging as they sniffed curiously at Mick’s discarded Y-fronts.
"Let's walk and chat, and collect my clothes", I suggested softly. My legs felt pleasantly wobbly as I slid off the cool plastic barrel. Mick watched me stand, his gaze lingering on my nakedness with undisguised appreciation as he grabbed his Y-Fronts and put them on. The white fabric immediately tented from his cock's arousal. "Damn, Steve," he muttered, adjusting himself awkwardly. "Just looking at you does it for me," while a faint blush crept up his neck.
I gathered my crumpled, dirty briefs from the fern-strewn path, then scooped up my discarded shorts a quarter-mile back. The sandals waited near the trailhead. Instead of dressing, I draped the clothes over my arm, enjoying the humid kiss of the woodland air on my bare skin. Mick walked beside me, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brushed. Every touch sent small sparks through me. His forearm, thick with muscle, bumped mine again as we navigated a patch of nettles, and without a warning, he spanked my bottom. "I tell you, you are a naughty man and thank you for being naughty."
"Glad you think me naughty," I grinned, my cock stirring anew at the possessive roughness in his touch.
Ahead, the dogs zigzagged through shafts of sunlight, noses buried in rabbit scent, as Mick smacked my bottom again. "I have to tell you, Steve, you have a lovely bottom."
"Well, if you play your cards right, you can enjoy it anytime you fancy. Before we say goodbye for today, a quick question for you. Do you have any kinks?"
Mick paused, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The blush deepened on his neck as he glanced sideways at me, a slow grin spreading. "Dunno about kinks... but seeing you naked in these woods? That does something fierce to me. Especially," he dropped his voice lower, "knowing anyone could stumble across us."
"To be honest, not much chance of being caught here because I own the woods and there's only a couple of people who use them."
"I thought I recognised you. Now it all makes sense why you are so relaxed in the woods here."
With Mick's confession hanging between us, we reached the trailhead. My dogs circled impatiently, noses twitching toward home as Mick collected my sandals. I dressed slowly, the air cool against flushed skin. Mick’s gaze lingered on my every movement as I slid my briefs over my hips, as if committing each detail to memory. I remained t-shirt and shorts as his own arousal remained obvious beneath the thin cotton, pressing insistently against the damp fabric.
"Do you want me to deal with that before we part our separate ways?" I asked.
"I'm fine, Steve, really, but tell me, what kinks do you have? Just out of interest."
"Mick, besides outdoor sex, I love underwear, especially white classic men's briefs. Some BDSM, like candle wax and, of course, having guys cum on me and golden showers."
Mick raised an eyebrow, intrigued as he adjusted himself. "Golden showers? Peeing?"
"Yep," I answered while smiling broadly.
Mick chuckled again, a low rumble that vibrated through the humid air. He scratched at his sweat-darkened chest hair thoughtfully. "Peeing? I did that once. A girlfriend years ago was really into it. It turned her on something rotten."
"Did you enjoy it?" I enquired.
"Mate. She used to love me straddling her thighs, wearing nothing but her underwear and me mine, and then badgering me to pee myself and indirectly her. By the time I finished, she was beside herself with desire. Fucking fantastic sex. Anyway, that all fell apart, and I met my wife, and we have been married for 38 years and no sex for so long, I've forgotten the last time."
"That's amazing, Mick. Great story and..... It's been a while since someone peed on me."
"I think we're going to be good mates, Steve."
I moved closer to Mick, so close that my mouth was inches away from his mouth as I embraced him in a hug. "I think we are going to be good mates too," I declared as I tentatively kissed him on his lips.
Mick didn't hesitate. He pulled me tight against him with startling force, his calloused hands gripping my hips like vices. Our kiss wasn't gentle; it was hungry, claiming, tongues clashing with a desperation that surprised even me. A low groan vibrated from his chest directly into mine as he deepened the kiss, the taste of our earlier encounter mingling with the damp earth scent clinging to him. One hand slid possessively up my spine, fingers tangling in my hair, holding me firmly in place as his mouth devoured mine.
With a powerful sweep of his leg against mine, he unbalanced me instantly. I gasped into his mouth as he pushed me backwards, my shoulders hitting the soft, cool grass beside the trail. He followed me down without breaking the kiss, his considerable weight settling firmly over me, pinning my hips to the ground. I felt his damp briefs grind against my underwear-clad groin, the thick ridge of his erection pressing insistently against my own cock trapped between our bodies.
Then it came. A sudden, spreading warmth low in my groin, unmistakable and primal. Mick broke the kiss, his face hovering inches above mine, eyes dark and intense, pupils blown wide. A flush crept up his thick neck. I saw the deliberate clench in his jaw, the slight tremor running through his thighs straddling mine.
The warm sensation intensified, blooming quickly into a hot flood. A guttural sigh escaped Mick’s lips as his piss surged freely, soaking through the thin cotton of his Y-Fronts instantly. The scalding liquid spread rapidly, drenching my bare stomach, pooling between my thighs, soaking the cotton of my own hastily pulled-up briefs. The earthy tang filled my nostrils, sharp and pungent, mingling with the scent of crushed grass and Mick’s sweat. I gasped, arching instinctively against the unexpected heat cascading over my skin, feeling the relentless flow.
His eyes never left mine, holding my gaze with fierce, almost challenging intensity. The hot stream splattered against my skin, running in rivulets down my sides. Mick shuddered slightly atop me. "Thought you might like that," he breathed, his voice thick and gravelly.
The flow pulsed, a visible tremor running through him as he emptied himself onto me. My cock jerked violently within my soaked briefs, pinned beneath the weight and heat and raw taboo of it. The grass beneath us grew damp and muddy. One of the dogs barked sharply nearby. Mick just grinned, a predatory, utterly satisfied expression flooding his face as the final spurts soaked us both.
"Fucking hell," I managed, my voice choked, electrified by the sheer audacity and the intimacy spreading across my skin. Mick shifted his hips slightly, grinding the soaked cotton against me, smearing the warm wetness. "Good?" he demanded, his breath hot on my face.
Before I could answer, the distant crunch of footsteps echoed faintly through the trees off the main path – too heavy to be an animal. Mick froze instantly above me, his grin vanishing, replaced by sudden, wide-eyed alarm. We were starkly exposed.
The piss-soaked warmth pooling between us suddenly felt like a damning spotlight. Mick rolled off me with surprising agility, scrambling to his knees as I frantically moved too. The damp grass beneath me was now clearly matted and dark. Panic flared cold in my chest as Mick hauled me upright with one powerful hand. "Steve... someone's coming," he hissed, his voice tight with urgency. His gaze darted wildly toward the sound, his briefs plastered transparently against his thick thigh, still visibly tented despite the fear.
I knew these woods intimately. "This way!" I said, as I grabbed our clothes and Mick's wrist, pulling him sharply off the trail into dense, waist-high bracken. Thorns snagged at my legs as we crashed through, branches whipping against our damp skin. We dove behind a gnarled oak trunk just as two figures emerged onto the main path about thirty yards away: Clive, the elderly gamekeeper who leased pheasant-rearing rights from my family, and his teenage grandson, Billy. They carried feed sacks, chatting amiably, oblivious.
"Jesus," Mick breathed against my ear, his chest heaving against my back. His hips pressed tightly against my arse, his persistent erection unmistakable even through the soaked layers of our briefs. The scent of piss mingled sharply with crushed bracken and Mick’s sweat. Clive paused directly opposite our hiding spot, pointing toward the water barrels. "Check the level on that far butt, Billy lad," Clive instructed. "Looks like someone's knocked one askew."
Billy trudged toward the barrels, kicking aside Mick’s discarded tube of lube lying near the base. My dogs, sensing tension, whined softly nearby. Mick’s fingers dug into my hips, his breath hot and rapid on my neck. My own cock throbbed painfully against the wet cotton, fuelled by adrenaline and Mick’s insistent hardness grinding against me still. Every rustle Billy made near the barrels felt excruciatingly loud. Mick shifted slightly, his swollen cockhead slipping beneath the soaked waistband of my briefs, pressing hot and slick against the small of my back. A desperate groan escaped me, muffled against the rough bark.
Billy fiddled with the barrels for an agonising minute before calling back. "All fine, Gramps! Just needs topping up." Clive grunted. "Right. Let's head north, then."
As their footsteps retreated slowly. Mick’s hand slid possessively around my waist, calloused fingers brushing my piss-sticky belly. "Bloody close," he murmured, his voice thick with lingering desire. "What a rush."
I looked at him, smiling. "Yep, indeed it was, bloody close."
Mick didn’t pull away. Instead, his hips rocked forward deliberately, grinding his trapped cock firmly against me. "Now... where were we?" as his other hand slid down to cup my straining bulge. "You liked that, didn’t you? Getting marked?" his low voice rumbling through my spine, with promise and danger tangled together.
The bracken rustled as Clive’s voice faded. My breath hitched, half terror, half delirious arousal, as Mick’s fingers hooked into the waistband of my soaked briefs. "Not here," I hissed, glancing toward the distant path.
Mick chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing my shoulder. "Why not? They’re gone." His touch was relentless, kneading my cock through the piss-drenched cotton. "Look at you," he breathed. "Still hard as oak."
I twisted in his grip, facing him. Sunlight slanted through the canopy, catching the sweat-slick planes of his chest, the dark trail of hair leading to his tented briefs. The earthy scent of urine clung to us, sharp and primal. My hand found his erection, hot and rigid beneath damp fabric. "You’re no better," I whispered.
His eyes locked onto mine, pupils blown wide, hungry. "Then finish what you started, Steve."
We sank back into the ferns, hidden by the oak’s gnarled roots. Mick pushed me onto my back, bracken crunching beneath us. He yanked my briefs down roughly, freeing my cock. The cool air hit my wet skin, raising goosebumps. Mick straddled my thighs, his own briefs shoved low, his thick shaft jutting fiercely. He spat into his palm, slicking himself with crude urgency before grabbing both our cocks, one calloused hand holding his and the other, mine.
The friction was electric, wet skin grinding against skin, his grip tight and demanding. He watched me, eyes blazing, as I arched against him, the crushed ferns releasing a green, peppery scent beneath us. Distant birdsong dissolved into the raw sounds of our breathing, the slick slap of flesh.
I came first—a ragged cry tearing loose as spurts hit my stomach, mixing with the drying piss. Mick groaned, low and guttural, his thighs trembling as he followed, hot stripes painting my skin. He collapsed atop me, breath heaving, his heartbeat drumming against my chest. For a long moment, we lay tangled, sticky and spent, the forest humming around us. Mick lifted his head, a slow, satisfied grin spreading. "Friends with benefits," he rasped. "Definitely."
In the distance, faint voices echoed, as Clive and Billy seemed to be returning. Mick tensed, rolling off me swiftly. We scrambled into our damp clothes, exchanging quick, electrified glances. The scent of pine and release hung thick as we slipped deeper into the woods, his hand brushing mine, both of us grinning like fools.
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