Junction

Ch. 02: Under Cover Nurse. Part one.

Summer days in temperate climbs like my home can be unpredictable, so the occasions when I can escape to my favorite cruising ground and be guaranteed a clear sky, warm weather and strong sunshine, are precious and all the more exciting.

As school holiday periods lead to nerves for the men who are aware of the real danger of children allowed to explore on their own, I go there only when I know that kids are where they should be; under the watchful gaze of a responsible adult. When there is no pressure from such fears as I hate to be interrupted at my pleasure.

Walking well trodden paths, often through battered vegetation and occasional litter left by inconsiderate individuals. Unlike used tissues that quickly rot away, spent condoms and drinks cans are left to lie, they become ivy covered monuments to the impermissible. Another reason for not sticking around in the area close to the rest stop.

Before I realized there was much more to this place I'd cruise there and brazen out the crowd of nervous men with insistent, considered, premeditated, naked fucking where furtive mutual masturbation or an occasional over hasty suck was more the norm. It was tough and frequently interrupted.

Then I followed a guy he beckoned me right through the wood, down a path along the edge of a green wheat field, over a stile and into another wooded area of a different kind.

He was big and rough looking tousled brown hair with a wisp of grey at the temple. In shape but not a fanatic, by which I mean a physically active man without either excess weight in front or behind him or the attitude that too often accompanies the gods of gym mountain. He carried a small pack, wore stout boots and walked purposefully secure in the knowledge of precisely where he was going. His powerful frame moved easily 20 meters or so ahead of me and he looked back occasionally to be sure I had not been left behind or mistaken a turn in the trees as here the path was not as distinctly trodden.

From the dappled shade, the crack of a twig and a sudden glance would reveal figures between the trees some waiting, some moving some watching our progress, some busily fucking or being fucked, sucking or getting sucked or both. Still I followed, however distracted, as the powerful denim clad rump ahead led out into bright sunlight, around the edge of another field and through a broken fence, onto a scrub hillside high above the road below along which we'd all driven to the rest stop but probably a mile from the car by now. How I was rewarded!

A few more meters and he stopped between two wild bushes, dropped his pack, unbuttoned his flannel shirt, revealing a broad, densely hairy chest, hesitating, he crouched to unlace his boots and stepped out of them onto the clover and grass, which I could now vividly imagine as our bed. Reaching into his pack he pulled out a small, tartan rug which he flicked open and spread, unpacked baby lotion, wipes and drinking water and then returned to his stripping.

The shirt was rolled into a sausage and I could see the strong upper body of the man, pale as he was, I could clearly see from my 10 meters distance the hair on his chest and belly extended to shoulders and back, unusually also down the upper arm as well as on the forearm. Body hair in luxurious whirls at his navel and hiding his broad nipples , frothing over the belt of his jeans and clipped strictly at the line of his shirt, this was exciting me as I chose to move a little closer unsure if his invitation to follow through the wood included touch as well as look.

He unbuckled and shucked down jeans and boxers together in a gesture totally unselfconscious of nakedness, I took another couple of paces towards the figure, bent double busily removing the final garment, his thick woolen boot socks. As he unfolded, I gasped with lustful pleasure at the sight of his total nakedness. I'm a whole body man, to me a big cock is just a big cock. This man was sex.

Powerful thighs darkly pelted in the same brown hair which pooled in a torrent on each leg as the quads cave into the knee, then either side of the shin bone and thinning over big calves, refining and diminishing out over the instep to his toes, he turned to place his clothing thoughtfully and his strong butt mapped as intricately as the legs in dark profusion, held my full and hungry attention. Body hair defines the shape of a man and it sickens me that hairy men wax and shave it away. The hair on his back filing neatly in to the dimples at the base of the spine and then cascading into the mysterious ravine below. My mouth was watering. I moved in close.

I kicked off my shoes and had my shirt off before he turned around, looking up, his broad delighted smile greeted the sight of my semi nakedness and nearness. He reached a strong hand towards my chest and thumbed my right nipple. In response, I put out my right arm put it around to his warm lower back and pulled him towards me pressing my chest to his and crushing his mouth with mine, invading him and dueling tongues. The bluish stubble on his lower lip scratching mine as I enclosed his mouth, the bristles of my beard and mustache tickling his face, his fingers opening my cargos and releasing my stifled member with a surprising delicacy. No underwear, my precum already dotting the front of them, the pockets jangling with keys, the cargos slid down to my feet, the loose fit helping me step out of them in just my socks without opening my eyes or unlocking out jaws. If a man's tongue is as invasive as mine, I know he will be as keen to fuck me as I am to fuck him and that puts me to work with a vengeance. This man knew what he wanted, had no hang-ups about it and gave himself up to that purpose, that moment, completely. What a fine example to us all.

I dropped to my knees and immediately nuzzled his navel, his groin and having wallowed in the scenting of his manliness, I swallowed his cock. Slightly curving to his left and down, its large head, somewhat like a circumcised tool, completely revealed in erection. There was a sharp intake of breath from above me as his engorged rod slid straight down my throat and stayed there, a dramatic gesture perhaps but effective and controlling. Assertive and safe(on my terms), I like to steer sex and have never thought of getting fucked as a passive situation. No one has ever put me through sex I didn't want. This was no exception.

If you care about the way sex feels for yourself I find it hard to believe you would not want to do the best you can for someone else. I'm a craftsman, by profession so I guess that means the quality of what I do in any situation is important to me, a source of pleasure as well as pride that my skills please other people. When it comes to sex, my own cock sliding into a guys mouth is a familiar sensation and the feeling which that warm, wet place transmits to my body from his is familiar and I know how it feels for him when the glans touches my tongue, when my hot breath rushes over its super sensitive skin, when he presses against my lips, slips into my mouth and then on into the gateway of my gullet. So if a man is willing and a little inexperienced, I am happy to explain and cajole my sucker into a gentle thoughtful approach to my precious organ. Occasionally, I have been enveloped in the velvety gorge of a man of culture.

A man who understands well what makes a good blow job and has perfected a technique can be heaven to receive. He may not always have conquered the 'relax and swallow' required to sheath a sabre completely. If he's having a nice time wetting my dong, it's all good. As with most skills, some have it by nature, find it easy to relax their throat and can work up a tortuous ecstasy in a man, deep throating him again and again with a slow delight in that ability to give exquisite pleasure. Others need to work at it to be good, practice makes perfect! Maybe they can't manage the cock down the throat, with a large piece it can be a trial, but the willingness to delight and the enjoyment of giving enjoyment is a wonderful thing. Empathic. I love that. It's where I'm coming from when it comes to giving head.

My first sexual experiences were giving head to big butch men and really getting off on it myself. I learned as I went on and had so much fun, not to mention nutrition from the learning. Good head can be gasping, panting, breathless and choking or it can be calm, slow, very deliberate and controlled. It doesn't need to include deep throat! Giving head or receiving it I've had blissful variations of all of these and excepting the few occasions when enthusiasm overwhelmed technique and I got my dick savaged, I never failed to be carried away from it. Enthusiastic suckers use the lips tongue and teeth as well as the throat and can do so much artful work without it. As with any gift we give or receive, it's the thought that counts.

The comfort one feels with ones prick nestled in another man's hot mouth is so sensual that one's thinking is completely derailed and I know that some men in this position will start fucking like a maniac without the least consideration for the man taking the length. Bet your life he's no idea how to give head himself. If a guy does that to me he can wave goodbye to any further effort on my part to please him. I love to get my face fucked by someone with whom I have an unspoken understanding about the way it goes, breathing and a delicate balance between the feeling of possession and the excitement of being choked by the monster which only a sucker can understand.

After a long soak, I will back off and allow the head back into my mouth licking and sucking there and up and down the shaft before slowly pressing forward again until his bollocks are bang up against my beard. It was in this manner that I treated my new companion that beautiful sunny afternoon. I gripped his gonads in my right fist and gently pulled down, increasing the pressure in his pulsating rod as it slipped back down over my tongue. A guttural sigh slipped through his lips and his eyes rolled upwards and closed in total abandon.

Although I was delightedly pleasing his penis, my mind was full of the forested cleft on the other side of him and my oral ministrations on his boner had to be terminated in order that my mouth could be engaged in that new arena of pleasure. With a last lick I turned him around and motioned for him to bend over. Happily his trance like state required no further redirection as this was certainly familiar territory in his sexual experience. Knees slightly bent, he presented his musky, fur clad arse crack to my waiting, delighted face.

To be continued.