He could probably see that I was tentative, not sure what should happen next. He spoke a little "come on" and we walked. Naked-walked in the woods, unapologetically into the clearing.
In about 270 degrees of our surroundings, now, there was complete visibility of this spot, for a long ways.
Moonlight illuminated everything in a blue-silver light. It was like a Faerie Glade, another world. I was biased, it was a special night and all of my senses were going haywire with anticipation; colours were brighter, scents were stronger, and I could hear every sound in the park. That alleviated my shyness just enough to keep enjoying that we were naked in very open land. Before us were evergreens and oak trees, and bridges across ponds made to look like luckily fallen trees, and lush grass over fresh soil. I took care to analyze the ground, and I was relieved at what I found: any moisture came from dew. The soil wasn't muddy at all, it was just condensation liquifying into tiny beads over the surface of everything. I needed to appraise the ground, because I had planned to spend some time there.
For a time we were two men wandering wilderness, like a mentor and an apprentice, teaching the ways of survival or tracking. I liked that framework. It was completely incidental to Jack that, while his body was calm, at rest, in our walk, my penis was as we sojourned through the park in a sustained alert erection. It had subsided only for a worried few moments before I encountered Jack, while I was alone and certain this would all end in a troublesome and ridiculous explanation to some night watchman, but there were so many moments that sent my body to the limits of its ability to be chill: taking off my clothes as I entered a park, encountering wildlife and eventually another naked man, wordlessly planning our next few orgasms... I had already shared a respectable amount of sex with this man in one 18-hour period, and he had still managed to reignite within me a heart-thumping sense of This Is Really Happening.
We honestly enjoyed walking through this nature, feeling soil and air, feeling free. But my extremely aroused penis was the elephant in the room... park.
"So where are you at, Kevin? Do you want to explore more, or relax some place?" He must have noticed my demeanour: I was by now shivering, with both nervousness and anticipation, my knees and shoulders vibrating. I knew he saw this nervous excitement. I trusted him with it. It didn't make any sense: I was streaking in a park during a booty call - I was essentially officially cruising, although only for one person - and yet I was incredibly bashful about sexual contact. But I was also bold now. Jack had taught me boldness. I closed my eyes, and with a smile I heaved a long breath through my nose, and let it out through my nose. I opened my eyes. With my smile broadening now I politely kneeled on the grass, wide eyed but calm. My bum cheeks touched and rested on the soles of my arched feet, my soiled knees held me up, and my balls began grazing beads of dew in the grass. The cool ground was pleasant - even the midnight air was too warm for my tastes, naked and damp though I was.
Since the afternoon I first met Jack in person, the feeling of grass and the smell of soil was extremely erotic to me. I hadn't found another chance to feel that again: grass tickling my bum, wet knees, the scent of my own penis, and the scent of another penis very nearby. Tonight, I wasn't just in a position to have sex again, I was surrounded by the various sense stimuli of my first and previous sexual encounter, except colder and theoretically more hazardous, and I was nude in populated wilderness with the man I readily permitted to lead my actions.
This was only our second adventure together, but it already felt like a ritual: kneeling in the grass and silently, humbly requesting to taste him.
I watched Jack's face, and I watched his penis. Seeing me parallel to it must have woken him. In the coming seconds, I watched the head flinch, and then grow larger than the rest of the shaft, the difference subtle under his long and shrouding foreskin. I watched his shaft rise up, soon staring directly at me. I watched his gorgeously ample balls tighten a little, gathering themselves together into a defined double sphere.
I felt proud. I did that. All I did was kneel suggestively and his wish to feel my mouth ignited that lovely penis half hard. I only knew Jack's enlarged and standing shaft was only half hard because I knew now what it was capable of becoming. As much as I enjoyed our original online chats and teases, I admit it was that organ that first hooked me onto Jack. It was Just. Beautiful.
I didn't proceed aggressively, I just waited for Jack to step closer, near my face, and I gingerly, finally, took Jack's shaft into my cool hands. It was piping hot. With no pressure in my fingertips at all, I grazed and caressed it a little, on the sides and on the revealed belly-of-the-beast, low down and just below the top of him, where the smooth surface was dewy with brand new precum. For a lingering moment I felt the silky bottom of his balls, feeling it just for the texture, but enjoying his happy little breaths and tiny moans.
I was by now just experienced enough not to be skittish about what happens next: I still had a smile in my eyes, pointed straight up at his face, as I opened my gentle mouth and gave the foreskin and the fuchsia flesh within slow, open-mouth kisses. Again. Again. Wetter. Slower. A little deeper. With more tongue. Again. I closed my eyes like I were romantically kissing. Tongue hidden but active beneath closed lips, thanking him with my swoon. This whole act made my body produce a silly amount of saliva, which cascaded down him, tickling him and making him glisten in the low light. I was already tasting precum. He was full in my hands now. I opened my mouth now somewhat more broadly, and, slick as can be with new saliva, and nuzzled him deep inside me.
My joyous, needy little swoons vibrated everything in my mouth and I felt him pulse and flex. This muscle in my hands and mouth communicated so much to me about what it wants - no matter how aloof and bashful the man, a penis talks and requests and gasps its thank-yous. But if I'm being completely honest, in that first moment I wasn't at all seeking Jack's pleasure. I was having a wonderful dessert, in no hurry, taking small mouthfuls in comfortable silence. I had once masturbated with a dildo in my mouth, just to feel like I was worshipping a penis while mollifying my own. I wasn't able to take it in me, but its purpose was now an idol to kneel to. And now the real thing.
Jack was still the only person I had ever had any kind of sex with, but I can't overstate just how much I adore and cherish Jack's lovely penis. It's beautiful, its precum is sweet, and the whole area around his penis smells strongly of pine tree. The balls beneath are full and strong and... actually just beautiful. I think you can tell that I feel that way by how long I've been talking about it.
That last thought reminded me of another favourite pass-time, and I lifted the skin of Jack's penis up so I could put each ball in turn in my eager, patient mouth. I enjoyed my soft tongue against his soft skin, I enjoyed the taste of his perspiration and the scent of him, and I enjoyed those little moments when I could overwhelm this older man with my inexperienced ministrations. Soon though the towering shaft over me was too lovely a sight and I brought my face up to indulgently taste him from the top down again.
I loved the feel of him between my tongue and cheeks, but I would do this just to have the taste of his penis in my mouth. I would stimulate the bottom of his balls just to watch the tip of his penis further grow and flex. Jack was slow to emote, but his penis always told me the truth. He loved how much I loved this, and he liked what I did to him. It was a nice little symbiosis we were forming.
This should have felt submissive, powerless, vulnerable: naked in the woods with a larger older man, kneeling at his request and taking his penis in me to massage it with my tongue, prostate and consenting to his specific desire as I knelt and waited. But this was potently empowering. I had chosen this; all this had happened because I chose it. I chose to respond to his friendship, and to his specific plans for us. I had readily agreed to remove my clothing and take an elicit journey in public, searching for the man I wanted to have sex with me. I had told him my specific boundaries and what I personally enjoyed. I had chosen, all by myself, that tonight I would taste Jack's precum, feel air on my bare skin, and give my orgasm to a man. And I would: Jack liked my penis too, I could tell, and he enjoyed watching me overwhelmed with pleasure, and he liked my funny little journey into sexual awakening, and he would choose an orgasm for me on his own time. I in fact knew in my heart he would choose two orgasms for me before we said goodnight.
And so I lavished Jack's penis, slathering it slowly. It was even more empowering to know that, despite the misdemeanour of public nudity, we would absolutely take our time. I didn't have to rush to get off: I reassured my eager, anxious penis that someone lovely would make it feel wonderful, soon, and once that was certain, I just leaned into my knees, and slowly satisfied my curiosity about cock.
These meditative thoughts loosened all my muscles, including in my face, and my adoring kisses made Jack slick with arousal, and so Jack's shaft had begun naturally sliding rather deep into my mouth. It was a funny feeling, being filled up past my tongue, but I liked how Jack sighed and guffawed and shuddered when he was this deep, so I kept him there for long moments, nuzzling back and forth. The penis would always come back out saltier, sweeter, wetter from its own juices inside, and would slip back into me with even more ease.
Crack.
Another stick had cracked. Maybe a branch had finally had it and fell from its tree. Or maybe something stepped on it. Jack didn't look nervous like I did, but like two wolves we quickly stealthed away - I soundlessly leapt up from my kneel, and we found shadows among the trees, rushed deep into the brush, and sought another area. The whole time our wagging erections belied the drama of the chase (that was likely never a chase).
At the next break of foliage we stopped just short of a kind of drop-off, with visibility of the majority of the forested park. It seemed still. The moon shone right in front of us. It was not safely secluded. I had just enough bravery to scan the area for a moment for an optimum place to sneak to.
A familiarly huge hand slid its palm and fingers across my penis from behind me. With barely any pounds-of-pressure at all his whole hand grazed me again, bottom-to-top, balls to head.
After a moment my tightly-shut eyes relaxed open into a calmer pleasure face. I watched the park ahead of me, scouting and scanning and monitoring, as Jack's fingers separated and started independent grazes all along my penis and balls, each an initial prologue of needed touch, never consummated with a wrapping-around and pistoning... just grazes.
I dashed my eyes to a distant tree whose movement was probably branches swaying in the wind, as Jack harvested my precum with what was probably his thumb and spread it around my head. I surrendered my balance to his body and nuzzled the back side of me into his chest and tummy and penis as he tickled my balls, tenderly. I swooned and groaned with increasingly failing stealth as I waited for any sign of movement ahead to investigate. I sought out his penis and easily found it with my hand, unable in our awkward position to actually stimulate it with any skill, but holding and analyzing it to enhance my own arousal. He was still a little wet from me... still very erect, hopefully from the memory of my worship ritual.
Jack's hand and Jack's touch never became swifter, stronger, more elaborate. Every touch was like the first erogenous touch of a sexual encounter. Somewhat rapidly my body was rushing towards an orgasm, my head a-buzz and pressure within my shaft and balls pulsing. I was too far in my trance to vocalize or control what shape to give my own pleasure, at what pace. I was Jack's. In great rushes of breath, I groaned and heaved, squealed and heaved, shuddered and heaved, giggled and heaved, whispered and heaved. All the while kneading Jack's wonderful scrotum with the full balls inside it.
Jack's five fingers now vertically surrounded my shaft, and grazed upwards, upwards, until the touch was gone. The touch was gone. I wobbled and arched as Jack's body came into view, a foot or two in front of me. My heaves were still happening, my orgasm was still rising slightly like a cake still baking atop the stove, and only gradually did my groans and air-humps plateau and subside. Jack watched me. I sensed now wasn't the time for initiative. I politely waited for my body to accept the interruption, politely watched Jack watch me. I needed to orgasm immediately but I somehow enjoyed the delay even more. I let my eyes eye-fuck Jack, longing and not quite angry and needy and affectionate and trusting and patient and horny and trusting.
