Down @ the Station

Tooley and I were chumming for cock when we met the nympos. We laughed our asses off at each other because here we four were in spandex bike shorts and loose tops showing side nipple and pushing borrowed bicycles through the park. They pointed at our obvious semi-hardons (troll bait) and we smirked at the wet patch of their obvious camel toes. Of course none of us rode a bicycle, they were props for the wardrobe. If you're chumming for strange, you have to display something good to eat. It's the rule of that jungle.

Sunday mornings make good fishing usually for wandering cock. This state wilderness park is massive and wild with tangles and thickets and marshlands, miniature valleys and arroyos peppered with oak and sage and cactus forests. Windy days along the coast keep the shrub walls in constant rippling motion. If some bush is shaking no one pays any mind.

If you pick your way down the rock strewn path from the cliffs to the shoreline, you can't miss The Station. It's jammed into the cliff about two-thirds down the height. Somebody said they thought it was built in the 1930s as an ocean-view pool club where swingers had nude orgies away from voyeurs' eyes. Somebody else said that was bullshit and it was built during World War II by Seabees and lifeguards as a fuckhouse for local factory girls.

There's also a story about it was taken over and spruced up with oak panels and velvet-lined rooms for the elite gay crowd who donated it to the S & M community when they moved back to the city.

Whatever. Somebody called The Station back in the day and that's what we call it. So, Tooley and I, and Roni and I forget her name, Makialan or something – are building our game as we step into view of The Station.

Stretching our shorts to the max so they hugged tight asses, moist pussy lips and semi-hard cocks, we started tossing ourselves as bait for the hungry prowlers.

The thing is, the nymphos and me and Tooley share a common hangup. Or issue. Whatever. We do double blowjobs. In tandem, in varied choreographies. Because it's fucking hot to do.

We haven't seen the nymphos in action yet, but we've heard them through the thin apartment walls. When you can hear blowjobs through the walls that's kind of impressive. Tooley and I haven't figured out how yet, but we'll work on it.

Ideally then we're looking for that lone guy on a stroll or a pair of buds on their weekly early morning walk-and-talk. Straight, bi- or gay has never applied @ The Station. Men and women undressed as boldly as they dare pass up and down the path past The Station. And back around again. Strolling, trolling, cruising, looking for a good hard fast fuck in a deserted door arch or a pretend secret blowjob behind a pillar. The ruined setting – rusted here and crumbling there, with shreds of stained velvet and broken dark wood – blends fantasy with the furtive and hurried sex acts.

Half-hard Tooley's dick is as thick around as one of those Starbucks frappuccino bottles. It looks like he's smuggling contraband in his tight pink bike shorts. He wheels his borrowed bike inside the main room of The Station and lights up a harsh smelling cigar as he sits on a broken clump of concrete and scratches his balls.

Fucking subtle, I pretend to check the air in the front tire and bend over at the waist sticking my ass out and up until I can feel the bike shorts cut into my nutsack.

Preliminary moves over, we started to check out who was circulating. Every Sunday lately it seems The Station has become the grazing pasture for what we used to call society's misfits and now are – well, aging trendies. Who still want to rock out with their cocks out.

Me and Tooley and the nymphos from next door like that. We like having an ever-changing jungle of cock to prowl among and pounce on.

I mean, well, duh. We're cock stalkers, double blowjobbers, a pair of perfect mouths to worship cock with. And we will rock you.

Like I said, I didn't know except from what I heard as far as the nymphos' sucky-suck was all about, but their side boob flashes and wet spot crotches were making the strolling players restless and cocks were stirring.

I did a quick scan and saw that about eight guys were homing in on the nymphos as they fluttered and gyrated around their bicycles. Three of them were already walking like they had hardons. My scan also noticed two single guys standing apart and looking at me intently. Now mine was the cock that was stirring.

Except now we – Tooley and myself – have to mutually decide which guy we suck off. About the time we exchange numbers, there's a hullabaloo at the foot of the cliffs and the sound of approaching sirens along the top of the cliffs. Well, shit. Some protestors of some kind, carrying signs and the usual crap, are climbing up the path while huffing and jogging down the path come the cops.

The Station became uninhabited in seconds; some scrambling up or down along hidden pathways; others simply vanishing in the shorebrush.

Tooley and I play a game with the two new guys starting with sending them sexts and pix of our mouths in sucking puckers. Or with tongue.

A guy that's been frontloaded all week with "cm fk m mth" is more than ready for a killer double blowjob on Friday night. Thursday we video Tooley and me cockworshiping a realistic dildo and send it to both of the new guys.

We're to meet up and hook up Friday night at Merino's, of course. Merino's always smells like fresh fetish. The leather has that new smell and feel. The mirrors are polished and gleam as brightly as the crystal. It's the kind of private club where gentlemen fuck women like animals privately or publically. And where ladies transform into erotic creatures of limitless pleasure and sensuality.

When Tooley and me walk in, we see the nymphos next door are already rubbing the new guys' cocks in a booth. We say our hellos, order a round for the table, and sandwich ourselves in the booth, so it's me and Roni on the sides of new guy – the blond. And Tooley and Maliakan or whatever on both sides of new guy two – the redhead.

As we're chatting and drinking, four hands are groping and stroking each of the new guys' dick and balls. I don't know about the other new guy, but ours was hard as a steel pipe. I curled two fingers over his cockhead and I swear I could feel it throb.

Roni's tongue is all over the guy's ear and I can just catch the random word from her breathy whispers. She says the word cum a lot and pinches his nipples through his shirt. I hear the word suck and see her starting to dip her head below the table. Fuck this, I hear myself say and lower my head, too.

She's already got his pants open and is just pulling out this thick long cock that's still hardening in her hand. Her eyes widen for a moment and I swoop in and wetly kiss the head of his cock. She actually hissed at me and then snaked out her tongue to lick a droplet of precum from his tip. Sneaky.

I licked my hand and began rubbing it over his ballsac, my thumb stroking up and down the root of his shaft. I heard and literally felt his groan and looked up with a smile until I saw nympho lips sucking on his enormous cockhead.

Up and down just on the head, she bobbed.

I couldn't resist and grabbed the back of her head and pushed her mouth all the way down his cock. She just gagged slightly, swallowed, and stuck her tongue out to lick his balls.

When she pulled off him, I did the same thing.

When the server came by, we righted ourselves and ordered drinks and some snacks. The nymphos excused themselves and Tooley and I settled on opposite sides of new guy – the blond. Our drinks and the nymphos arrived at the same time. They were giggle whispering and licking the ears and neck of new guy – the brunette – their hands dipping under the table to fondle and stroke his cock.

Now, at least, we're set up to do our double team thing. We're a little exposed even for Merino's clientele – it doesn't get more obvious than two guys sitting upright at a table for six and four moving lumps under the table cloth. We weren't officially kicked out, but invited cordially to leave for the evening to the sound of golf claps from scattered club members.

Before the blond and brunette came, naturally. It was getting absurd too fast. So we all went back to Roni and Makialan's apartment and I think they drugged us, me and Tooley. Because when I came to the next afternoon, I was naked face to face with a naked Roni whose mouth was on my cock. And I let her, thinking, wow, I'm bi-sexual.