My fourth-floor condo overlooks a fifteen-acre park in South Tulsa. It's a lovely wooded sanctuary with a creek running through it and several grassy lawns dotted by picnic areas and playground equipment. Jogging paths and trails crisscross the park, making even the forested corners accessible to the intrepid. From my balcony, I watch families enjoying the green expanses, joggers plying the paved paths, and single, furtive men disappearing into the trees. I'm not naive. I know what those men are up to.
I am a thirty-eight year old former college tennis player. I was once ranked thirteenth in the Big Ten Conference, which is impressive but not good enough for the pro tour. Thus, I gave up my dreams of hoisting championship trophies and started a career writing semi-literary novels in the mystery/suspense genre. I enjoy a faithful audience of readers and two of my books have made it to the big screen. Again, impressive but no chance of hoisting a Pulitzer Prize.
The close proximity of the park is ideal for me. Once an athlete, always an athlete. I run the paths almost every day and utilize the playground equipment for calisthenics -- pull-ups, sit-ups, etc. One day, I was hanging by my knees doing an abs workout when a man sat down on an adjacent bench watching. My T-shirt dangled, and I could feel him ogling my flexing six-pack. I had seen him before, eyeing me before wandering off into the trees. He was a smallish fellow, in his sixties (I would guess), trim and well-groomed with a salt and pepper goatee and a full head of silver hair.
I swung down to the ground and walked tight circles as I caught my breath. Our eyes met and we exchanged a smile. "Nope," I said. "Not today".
"Nope, what?"
"I know what you're up to. You seem like a nice guy looking for harmless fun, but nope."
"I'm Terence, by the way, and I don't know what you mean."
His coy smile elicited a chuckle from me. "Look, Terence..."
"Terence sounds too formal between friends. Please call me Terry."
Since when had I been elevated to friend status? "Look, Terry, I know you want to suck my cock. I don't think there's anything wrong about what discretely transpires down those paths, but no. Not today."
His tongue made a moist, lurid circuit over his lips as his eyes sought mine in a languid gaze. "You're right. I would like to suck your cock. I promise, you'd enjoy it, as well. Cut?"
"What?"
"Your cock. I'm guessing you're cut -- circumcised -- with a scrumptious, pillowy cockhead. I'm right, aren't I ...?"
His question tapered off seeking to illicit my name. I glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot. The park seemed strangely deserted. "My name is Marc, with a C. Yes to being cut. The rest is not up to me to say."
He was obviously a cultured man, the sort who enjoys a glass of fine wine in the evening while Mozart plays, or maybe Thelonious Monk. His eyes had a devilish glint that was both knowing and beguiling, while long, delicate fingers stroked his upper thigh. "I'd be happy to take a look and let you know, Marc. You know, as a friend. I'm guessing it's a very impressive specimen, just like the rest of you. All you'd have to do is mosey down that pathway. There's a cozy little nook where I would give you a look-see, then a long, luscious blowjob that you would never forget."
Normally, I'd tell a guy to fuck off, but I reserve rudeness for the ill-mannered louts. Terry was certainly not that. Instead, I grabbed my towel from off the jungle gym and wiped the sweat before continuing my run. "Nope, not today. Happy hunting, Terry."
"Well then, another day. Enjoy your run, Marc with a C."
As I settled into my gait, I realized that he had ended our encounter with a statement, not a question. Obviously, Terry was intent on crossing paths with me again and again. Rather than feeling stalked, I felt vaguely flattered, appreciated, like a bottle of fine wine.
That evening, I sat on my balcony with a cold beer and watched the goings-on in the park below. A couple of families were gathered around the picnic tables; the fathers grilling burgers while the mothers supervised kiddos on the swings. A trio of long-haired teens threw a frisbee with practiced grace. Some distance away, an occasional man scurried into the woods with a quick glance at the parking lot, hoping not to see a familiar car or a dreaded undercover cop. Those men usually emerged some fifteen or twenty minutes later and loped quickly to their cars. I could imagine their satisfied faces and drained cocks as they drove off, thrilled to have gotten away with another clandestine debauch.
I remembered Terry bragging of his prowess at fellatio and was convinced that it was no empty boast. The man had the air of a purveyor of pleasure, the lusty swagger of a gourmand who was excessively fond of cock and savored a good one with gusto. In my college days, I had succumbed to several invitations from gay men to munch on my Johnson. I had been a handsome, virile Jock and happy to have some discrete fun. In my senior year, there was a guy from my Econ class who I hooked up with several times. He was funny and smart, and he loved my cock. Once I got past my inhibitions, I enjoyed kissing him. More than once we wound up splayed across his bed in a steamy make-out session before he would go down on me with such finesse that I would be gasping for release when he finally allowed me to cum gloriously down his throat. He was far more talented than any of the women I dated, and possessed an array of techniques. He would slowly swirl his tongue atop my cockhead, and tease the frenulum, before sucking my seven-and-a-half inch member into his throat and make swallowing motions that sent paroxysms of ecstasy coursing up my spine. Once, he suddenly stopped a blowjob, crawled atop me, and slowly took me up his tight, cloying ass. He didn't ask, he just did it, and once I was ensconced deep inside him I wasn't about to object. He rode me hard and fast, and it was all too quick before I shot my load. It was the hottest sex I'd ever had and as we lay in the afterglow of that spectacular fuck he asked if I was ready to fall in love with him. The question startled me. I explained that my emotions didn't run that way. He winked and said, "Just wait". We fucked a couple more times that semester and, good god, each time it was fabulous. However, I could see in his eyes that his hopes for me grew higher. I broke it off for his sake but he was hurt and angry. From that moment on, I curtailed my amours to women. It was satisfying enough and the romance was there but, I admit, there were times ...
As expected, I saw Terry from time to time on my runs. I assumed he had synced up his visits to coincide with my regular workouts. Terry would tarry on the edge of the woods until I jogged past. With a wink and another appearance of his moist tongue, he would beckon me. My cock would invariably swell with hot blood but I forced myself to continue on. Time after time, until ...
He was standing there, smiling seductively as I approached down the path. "This could be your lucky day," he said lustily before his plump tongue flicked at his upper lip. I slowed my pace until it was a mere walk. I was captured by his smoky gaze as he smiled with satisfaction and walked into the trees. As if trapped within a tractor beam, I turned and followed.
After a few turns down the meandering trail I came upon him at the entrance to that cozy little nook. It was off to the side, shielded from the path by tall bushes that lent privacy. With an inviting smile and a sweep of his arm, he welcomed me into the privileged sanctum. I was nervous and the butterflies fluttering in my stomach rose in the quivering of my breath. "Come in, Marc. There is no reason to be shy with me."
With a hand on my elbow, he led me to a large rock in the shadow of an oak tree. "Just lean here and relax.
Terry managed to lower my shorts with a fell swoop as he sank to his knees. I watched spellbound as he leaned back to appraise what he had waited so long to see. "Oh my, that is a nice hunk of man meat."
With the cup of his hand, he lifted my cock. The tenderness of his touch sent tremors through my groin. Hot blood rushed in and my flesh began to harden and rise. He leaned in as he inhaled deeply with hooded eyes. "The manly musk of sweat and funk." As he exhaled, his warm breath enveloped my shaft. It was now fully hard and throbbing, and with delicate fingertips he caressed its length.
"Very nice. I'd guess a full eight inches and a truly splendid cockhead. Marc ..." Terry's eyes latched on to mine, "it is all that I had hoped for." As his gaze commanded mine, his tongue lapped at my frenulum. "Salty with sweat." Those plush lips sucked the cushion of my cockhead as the air was driven from my chest. "So pillowy and warm."
My head fell back as he teased my crown with lips and tongue, sending ecstasy sweeping through my core. Clouds skittered through the sheltering branches as waves of pleasure skittered up my spine. Terry's mouth caressed my soft tender flesh for several minutes, and his tongue made clever darts over all the right places. Then he took me deep and sucked on my shank until I thought the blood might burst from my pores. I gasped and curled my torso over his head, craning my cock further into his marvelous, juicy mouth. My fingers found purchase in his silver hair. I quivered, throes of rapturous sensations rocking my hips. Then, with the audible pop of suction lost, he pulled off my cock and looked up. His smile reflected his pride as he considered my gaping mouth and googly eyes. "Having fun?" he smugly inquired as he planted a tender kiss to the underside of my cockhead.
"Good god, yes," I stroked his hair. "I've never experienced anything quite so ... so ..."
