Fore Play 4

The fifteenth and sixteenth holes at our golf course run out and back. Hole fifteen goes west 400 yards; the sixteenth runs back in parallel, 400 yards the opposite way. Between them is a strip of scrub brush and trees, delineating the boundaries for both.

Although the clubhouse and proper washrooms are only a 10 minutes or so away from both holes in terms of golf playing time, it's not unusual for beer, coffee or other influences to bring about a man's need to take advantage of the convenience of Mother Nature to get rid of that unwanted baggage. And so it happened on that brisk fall day, on a near empty golf course, that Joe went into the bush on sixteen, as I did the same on fifteen. We were both there simply to take care of business.

I heard him before I saw him. The sound of branches snapping and steps on dry leaves told me someone or something was nearby. Concerned that it was a woman or someone who'd be offended, I awkwardly but quickly pushed my dick back into hiding, behind my hand and sort of inside my pants. I peered through the bush in the direction of the sound. And as I pulled a branch back, my eyes locked in on Joe's eyes. I could not help but glance down seeing his hand on his dick. He had evidently finished doing what he needed to do, and was shaking it, as guys do.

But it was more than a glance. Not a stare, but more then a glance. It was the glisten of the tip, the motion of the shake, and the nature of his return eye contact that gave me a start and caught my attention. He did not divert his eyes, the way many shy people would in that situation. No, it almost seemed that his gaze became more intense. Surprise but also something primal. Neither one of us said a word but something had been communicated.

Given that I was playing the hole behind him, it would follow that he would be done with golf for the day about ten minutes before me. Normally I shower and change clothes after the game, and with the chill of the fall I was looking forward to an even longer hot shower. I cut across the parking lot from the eighteenth green to get to the clubhouse, noting that there were only three cars: mine, the manager's and presumably Joe's.

Down a long corridor past the banks of lockers are the showers. There are four shower stalls at the club. Each stall provides some privacy by way of a plastic opaque curtain. Within each stall is a small area, between the curtain and actual shower, for undressing, furnished with a wooden bench. The club makes sure there's a stack of fresh towels provided, on each bench.

As I started down the stairs down to the locker room, I could hear the sound of a shower splashing. Midway down the stairs the sound stopped. It did not take Sherlock Holmes to figure out it would have been Joe finishing his post game refreshing, probably grabbing a towel to dry off.

As I went past the lockers into the shower area corridor, something weird happened to my state of mind. It was like some science fiction movie where a rational person all of a sudden becomes controlled by some alien. Joe was in the first of the four showers; I could see his silhouette behind the plastic curtain. I should have continued on to one of the empty shower stalls, but I didn't. Without any rational, planned thought, as I was aside the first shower my whole being decided to make a turn and push the plastic curtain to the right along the curtain rod.

Joe was slightly startled, but interestingly, his gaze held mine as it had in the scrub trees. He was toweling off his cock and balls and he continued to look into my eyes. He didn't stop or try to hide anything.

I have always had a fantasy: that a freshly showered, clean, warm cock is the best kind. To be able to play with it, suck it hard, getting a whiff of soap scent would be amazing. And here I was, in that moment, in my fantasy. I had no particular plan, beyond being in that moment, letting things go where they might, me allowing the primal me to simply act and enjoy.

Joe was still drying his shaft and balls, still making absolutely no effort to be modest and hide. He continued to hold my gaze. So, I moved into the stall, and undid my belt, dropped my pants and underwear, took off my shirt, becoming fully naked in short order. I dropped to me knees, pulling the towel aside and tossing it on the floor.

I was not going to rush this. I had one thought in my mind, and that thought was to suck him off so amazingly well that he would remember this time for the rest of his life. I wanted his balls to twitch and his eyes to betray him if, at some point in time in the future, he happened to be in the restaurant with his wife and I passed by their table to simply say hello.

The lights were bright, as they would be in a shower area. As I moved in on my knees towards his shaft, I could feel the heat from the shower, and Joe as well. The base of his shaft had a color of pink, the kind of pink that happens when you rub your skin roughly. I gave a deliberate hot breath to the base of his shaft right where his cock met his body. His balls had dropped from the heat of the shower, and as I gave another hot breath, I could see his ball sack start to tighten, in tandem with the first throbbing twitch of his cock getting harder.

He was obviously reacting to me. After a minute or so, his cock was on its way to being fully hard, and his balls continued to pull up. I decided to take this slow, working his whole package to excitement in tandem by breathing on his shaft, licking near the base, caressing his balls, getting him gradually in a state where his sack was tight and his cock head full and brightly colored, throbbing and waiting for next stages.

I was moving slowly enough to have time to think and plan while he was getting harder. I knew that the next stage I wanted to get to would involve him producing a beautiful, huge drop of precum. Getting the size of pearl I wanted could take take time. I wanted that pearl to be big enough that it was about ready to fall to the ground. But it wouldn't, because it would be my first taste treat. After that, I planned to milk and squeeze a second drop up the shaft.

With me, the slower I get myself aroused, the more I produce precum and the longer I can milk that precum. I was going to do the same with Joe. I started with my tongue wide and wet, dragging it slowly across the underside of his cockhead. And then I did it again, and again. I made my the tip of my tongue stiff, and rubbed it along the groove where the cockhead joins the shaft.

I like the feel of a light, soft jerkoff and so I made a circle with my index finger and right hand thumb, wrapping the circle around his shaft. At first, my strokes were slow and long, all the way down to his balls. As I pulled down towards his body, I opened my mouth wide and took half of his cockhead between my lips. He gently thrust forward. His hips extended and withdrew, pumping the air, feeling my circled fingers, experiencing the wetness of my lips. I could see his ass clench and relax as his thrusts became more extended and deliberate.

I knew that his fucking action would probably be priming his prostate to get the precum flowing. I pulled back from letting him feel the warmth and wetness of my lips. I pointed his cock slit at my face and began to very lightly and quickly jerk him off, imagining it erupting with cum, smelling that cum, feeling that cum, tasting that cum.

It was time for me to milk out precum. I stopped jerking him, pushing his cock against his stomach, putting my right index finger down to the underside of the base of his cock. I pushed with some pressure against the vein on the underside, moving my finger up. As my index finger took the trip up to the halfway point between the base and cockhead, the tip of Joe's cock began to glisten, then ooze, then get wet, and then dribble with a stream flowing down to the groove of his frenulum down the edge of his cockhead.

I wanted him to get a view, to see his cock on my face and lips, dipping my tongue in his precum. I pulled back, looked at him in the eyes, pulled his cock forward, and milked the precum onto my wide tongue. He groaned. Then I went up the shaft again with my finger, milking a second drop up the shaft and out of the cock slit. This drop I kissed, pursing my lips as my lips detected the pearl, making sure I spread it across my upper and lower lips, then licking them.

I had him now. I was telling myself that his cock was mine, and he would remember this orgasm for the rest of his life. His thrusts were more involuntary. His breathing was different, a little raspy. I felt like I was in control of that cock and I wanted him to know his dick was mine. I pulled back and told him, "your cock and cum are mine".

All of this was getting me going. My cock was rock hard and I knew it was time to move on to the next part of the plan. This would involve me getting into the action, for this to be a hot memory for me as well.

I made sure I was squarely between his knees at cock level, and reached up with my left hand, grabbing his ball sack firmly at the base of his shaft, so that I could direct his movement, and add a different sensation. I coaxed him forward with my left hand, lifting his cock into my mouth. With my right hand, I reached down to my own cock, which had its own precum drip. I pulled my precum onto my finger, then brought it up to his cock. I rubbed my precum over the head of his dick, then putting his cock back in my mouth and my right hand back on own dick. My precum had the effect of making his cockhead even slicker.

He started dribbling more, and as I licked the third drop of precum, while stroking myself, I looked up at him and told him (in no uncertain terms) that he and I were going to edge for a while. The pace of our action picked up. I wanted to stroke myself and Joe as close as I could to the point of no return. Once again, I was imagining some future moment where I'd see him with his wife, knowing he would recall being almost tortured by my control of the timing of him busting his nut.

It's one thing to blow a guy without personally getting into the fun, but its way more exciting to be taking the same train trip. He was looking down at me sucking him off, and I could tell part of what he was watching was my own hand action on myself. I made sure he'd have a good line of sight on my own stroking. The first trip to the edge would involve me stroking my cock in synch with my mouth strokes down his shaft. I felt myself getting close and I wanted to make this as slutty and dirty as I could, so I deliberately started moaning. The sound only encouraged him to fuck my face more forcefully. As I came close to cumming, I pulled my head back and kept my lips about an inch from his wet cockhead. He tried to thrust to get contact, but I withdrew so he was simply fucking air, breathing heavily. His cock was twitching and the head had a shiny, purple look.

He twitched a couple of times, and after a minute or so of his cock hanging in the air I could see the slightest beginning of it relaxing. His cock head dropped a slight amount, and I figured the semi relaxation state would mean that he would offer up some more precum dribble. I was delighted when he did, and once again I gave him a show as I fed on him.

I could feel my own precum on my cock and decided, for the next round of edging, to go all in on getting my own dick wet. I gave Joe some aggressive up and own mouth strokes to get him back into pumping his hips, then I pulled back and spit down onto my cock, knowing it had a healthy amount of his precum mixed in. As I started stroking, the atmosphere of raw man sex increased as we could both hear the sound of my wet cock jacking. That inspired us both to moan and grunt, and anyone walking by would have thought it a very raunchy scene.

But I was not done yet. I had planned to go to the edge twice or more. The sounds of wet cock and sloppy cock blowing drove us closer to cumming more quickly. I thought I heard him mutter "yeah", so I immediately pulled back off his shaft. I'd been correct that he was about to unload, as something white and more than a dribble started to flow from his slit. Had I ruined his orgasm? Not quite. I leaned forward to catch the dribble of white jizz with my tongue as it dangled off the head.

He was squirming now, and as much as I had a plan to extend the fun, I also knew that neither one of us were going to be calm and logical as we descended into raw sex mode. He grunted and asked me if I wanted his load. I grunted back in the affirmative, and he growled back, "yeah, where do you want this?".

Part of me was wanting to have him throb all of his his load into my mouth. I love blow job porn where the cock twitches, and the giver simply holds tight and accepts the cum. But a bigger part of my state of mind wanted him to have a strong visual recollection. I wanted him to remember unloading on my face and lips, leaving me with a messy facial that he would have in his memory forever.

As I moved back about a foot, he instinctively grabbed his cock and started stroking. I spit on it loudly to keep it wet, and ordered him, "spray me, hit my lips and tongue". As I leaned back I knew he could see me jerking my cock. I told him that I would cum when he shot his load.

And that is how we finished. He was stroking furiously. Then he paused as he began to orgasm, holding his shaft to build up pressure for the first shot. I was visually focused on the slit at the end, waiting for the white spurt. It came fast, and just as I wanted, hit my pursed lips. My tongue slipped out of my mouth to taste, and as the sensation and taste of warm, bleach smelling jizz entered my being, I came, into my left hand.

As these things often go, after the intensity and insanity, there was a moment of post orgasmic quiet. "Fuck, that was hot", I said. He grunted agreement.

I stood up and looked at him. I knew my face was a mess of jizz, and that my cock was dripping and releasing the last of my own load. There was a mirror over the sink on he other side of the shower stall hall, and I could see my cheeks and chin covered in his goo, the end of my own cock wet with jizz as it softened. I put my cum covered left index finger in my mouth, to mix our taste. As our eyes briefly locked, I let my tongue slide out, again, to confirm that we were now brothers in raunch, and cumsluts.

It was only next spring when I saw Joe next. He was at one of the small tables by the picture window at the Club restaurant, enjoying a sandwich with his wife. I couldn't help myself, as I had fantasized this moment for a whole winter. I walked over to their table and introduced myself. As we exchanged pleasantries about the weather, I very deliberately made a point of extending my tongue very slightly and casually outside my lips, as one may do as you nod, listening politely to casual, trivial conversation.

I liked the fact that Joe not only noticed, but seemed to flush slightly. Inside my own mind, as I casually conversed with his wife, I kept thinking about how she and I both knew his taste, and how he grunts and pumps as he lets go.