Dog Days

It is not even August, but the last few days here have been hot. Africa hot. It’s amazing to me that pushing 100 degree weather would deter people for looking for dick. Or mouth. Or ass.

Saturday I went out for some park cruising but didn’t get far. There were so many trolls out there I was just waiting for the three billy goats gruff to appear. Maybe I’m delusional , but I don’t see myself as a troll. Maybe to some 19 yo I am – who knows?

A second park I went to had a ranger car sitting in the parking lot. No ranger inside, which I suppose means he/she was patrolling the woods. Damn. I just left and found other means (see my bookstore story).

Sunday was even warmer and I went on my merry way to another set of parks in another area of town. This place was still pretty desolate. What gives? In the area was one guy sunning himself next to his bicycle. Soon enough another car pulled in and right next to me. Eventually he walked into the heavily wooded area, followed shortly by the bike guy (not BikeGuy). Just as I was about to follow, a hot MF pulled in to the lot. I tried to make some kind of contact, but he wasn’t having any of it.

I decided to head back to the wood hoping Hot MF would follow and there would either be a group or an audience…..or both. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. As I hit the edge of the woods, the first guy was already heading out. Guess the bike guy didn’t do it for him – though they couldn’t have been back there long enough to figure this out. Maybe they had prior encounters. Remembering these woods – after awhile, everyone knows everyone, if nothing else – by site.

But the biker was still back there and a possibility that the Hot MF might follow both of us. Alas, that did not happen either. But I did find the biker guy….or more accurately, he found me.

My back was up after the first guy exited the woods. I thought maybe one of them was a cop. Bikeman didn’t ask me if I was and just started rubbing me…all over. I didn’t touch him. I should have asked if he was Johnny Law, and I know it is necessary in these situations, but I think it is a mood-killer and secondly, I think cops lie about it anyway. I just try for the other guy to make the first move.

External rubbing is not making the first move. Unzipping and hand to fleshy tube is what I consider the first move when it comes to establishing entrapment issues. Soon enough, his hand found my fly, then my penis. Soon after that, my shaft hit daylight and he had a firm grip on it. Still I didn’t make a move. I wanted to see how far he would go.

It seemed he’d go pretty far. Before I knew it, he was on his knees and enveloped my cock in his goateed mouth. He did a pretty good job, but not quite all the way down. After a few minutes he got up off his knees. I wanted him to resume but he was hesitant. He said he wasn’t that into sucking. Gimme a break. He did it too well to not be into it. So I asked him if he did do it, would he take my load. He had to think about it but ultimately said ‘no’. I put my piece away and said ‘later’. I don’t jack off (or rarely), do you think I’m going to spray my load on the ground? Je don’t think so! I took off.

Hot MF was still in the parking lot, but still no getting his attention. I took off to another part of the park, which was even more desolate. I sat at a picnic table and took a pic of my semi-soft dick, just for fun.



[PHOTO REMOVED DUE TO BLOGGER / GOOGLE NAZI TACTICS)

Just then a minivan pulled up. The guy must take his grandkids around with it, or he has a trophy wife at home. Yes, I’m saying he was OLD. But more importantly he was massively unattractive. Call me superficial, but the guy had nothing going for him unless he had a 14” shlong. I wasn’t going to find out.

He meandered into the woods just as a big ass pick-up pulled in. Out came a very well built black man. From a few hundred feet away and under his shirt, you could see how well developed his chest was and you could easily see that his arms underwent a continual work out.

Without even checking to see who was around, he made his way into another part of the woods. He never looked to see if anyone was following him. He either didn’t care or arrogant enough to assume someone would. I did.

I found him in the brush a ways back, occasionally groping his crotch through his shorts. Like the biker, I waited for him to make the first move. He took his dick out and showed it to me. I sat on a log, silently inviting him to come my way and knowing he’d know I was at the level we both wanted me to be. I’d say he took the hint, but it was more like a 2x4 being hit over his head.

He had a beautiful dick. Big and thick. Everything that is stereotypical of a black dick. I do not say that with any disrespect – just admiration. He let me take a pic of it.



[PHOTO REMOVED DUE TO BLOGGER / GOOGLE NAZI TACTICS)

I’d look up at him playing with his own nipples through his shirt and watched his tattoos flex over his biceps.

What he did next threw me. I assumed he was rough-ish trade. But he stood me up and went down on me! Not well, but it clearly wasn’t his first time either. He took more than a few swipes at it, but eventually he wanted me back down on his dick. I’m ok with that. Obviously.

I wasn’t down there more than two minutes when he gripped my head. I knew it was coming…and cumming. It was a good sized load and tasted pretty good. I was stroking my own shaft the entire time I worked on him, so I was really horned up. Too much so. I couldn’t hold off.

I stood up and he watched as I popped my nut in ribbons that went up to and over 3 feet. For someone who had cum less than 24 hrs before, even I was impressed by the size and force of my ejaculation. So was he.

But I had places to be..and I assumed he did to. This kind of situation didn’t warrant idle chit chat anyway. It was one of those – do it and get out. And that kind of shit, I love!