Sunday, March 23, 2008


The face under the hood was invisible. He walked past and leant against the rail. In the dark he was unsure. He ran his hands over my head, my lips and cheeks and chin, then my gut. It was enough. I followed him along the track, got my hands under his shirt, pulled his hips toward me, stroked his face. Then a surprise: he took my hand, led me up the track, put his jacket on the stones, lay on it and pulled me down. I moved my mouth over his chest and belly and neck. There was a tremble each time I touched a nipple. He pushed his jeans right down and pulled me on top. He wanted my skin against his. When I took his dick in my mouth he trembled again. He moaned quietly as I took it down deep and pumped him. I moved up and straddled his thighs, moved his dickhead against my hole. He moaned again as the head went in but pulled out, said he couldn't.

The group in the distance was now closer and louder. Hoodie was on his feet pulling his jeans back up, cursing quietly. The group moved on up the other track but he was still nervy. I told him there were places up the side of the hill. The grass up there was damp under my bare feet. We tried several places. Finally he chose a spot under a pine dry grass and leaves. He pulled off jacket and shirt and pushed down jeans. I stripped.

He still trembled and moaned when I used my teeth and tongue on his nipples and flanks and pushed up as I sucked him. He was running his hands over my head and body. I put my tongue down under his balls and then went deeper. He spread his legs then lifted up his hips. I went for his hole, pushed my tongue in, licked and sniffed and nibbled around it. I moved back and forth between his arse and his dick, him squirming and moaning the whole time. I pushed a finger in, slid it in deeper. His hole was smooth and slick. l lifted his hips. He pulled his ankles back to his head as I feasted on his arse and balls and dick.

We took a pause. Up the side of the hill there was more light from the stars. He was a lot younger than I had thought. We talked and touched. He had only done this a few times before. His girlfriend was out of town for the weekend. Now I knew why he wouldn't fuck me raw. He liked holding and being held by a man. We talked about the taste and feel of it. We laughed about the craziness of it, clothes spread around us, naked under the sky. I told him his girlfriend was lucky to have him and wished him well.

He had gone soft while we talked but stiffened when I started again. I took him in my mouth, sucked him deep into my throat and pumped him. I wet a finger, pushed it in and finger-fucked him. He bucked and moaned but finally came jerking himself off.

I walked home smiling. I wasn't sure why. I hadn't got a fuck, hadn't got a load, hadn't even got myself off. But he was a sweet kid. When was the last time a pick-up at the beat wanted to hold hands and talk? How long since I had hooked up with a kid who was so horny and so unused to being touched by a man that any touch would make him shiver and moan? I'm still smiling.

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