Canada--Wednesday In the Woods

Lake Ontario—August, 2012

I had time the next day to head back to the dog walk/conservation area.  Two cars were in the lot.  I read for a bit, then decided to walk around and see if there was any “trouble” to get into…

 I walk away from the lake, across the expanse of sun parched field and into the new growth of trees.  As I round the first corner, there they are:  two men and a Boston terrier.  Just talking.  I smile and nod and continue on down the trail.  The man doing all the talking I recognize from previous years here.  He is older than I, short and balding, with quite a few extra pounds.   He loves to talk and tell stories—stories that ramble until he has lost track of why he is telling that particular tale.  I love the look of the other guy:   he’s taller than me, thin, with a promising bulge in his track shorts.  He’s in great shape for being in his late 60’s.  He tosses a stick for his dog to chase as I amble on down the brambled path. 

I give them a little time—then make a U-turn and head back.  I duck under a low branch—and there they are.  The short guy is on his knees, sucking the very large cock of the tall, grey haired gentleman.  The dog is scampering around, licking at the big guy’s crotch, as Daddy gets head.  They wave me over to join them.  I unzip.  I pull out my growing cock.  The large guy goes from one to the other.  It feels good, but I’m not fully hard.  My mouth is on Daddy’s nipple.  My hand is on Daddy’s hairless, totally smooth ass.

I know what I want.  I kneel behind those long, long legs.  I pull apart his ass cheeks and begin licking.  He looks at me over his shoulder.  Then he bends over, surrendering to my invading tongue. His cock pulls out of the Talker’s mouth—Daddy doesn’t care—he just leans on his former cock sucker’s shoulders.  I feel a hot tongue on my balls.  There is no way the fat guy could bend that far over…

Nope, it’s the dog.

Damn, he’s good, too.

I shoo him away, but he’s back instantly.  I ignore him and spread his cheeks apart with my hands.  His hole tastes great, salty and moist. 

Then the cock sucker starts talking.  He goes on and on about another cruise place, and it deflates both our cocks.  The dog starts barking—warning us of approaching dog walkers.  We clothe ourselves in plenty of time.  The terrier scoots away to welcome a standard poodle.

We try to wait out the intruders, but they are playing catch right by the entrance to the path .  No more sex for now.

“I remember you,” says the talker.  “We had a long talk last year.”   And then he proceeds to resurrect the entire conversation.

I nod.  And nod.

“I remember your tongue,” says the tall man.  “You rimmed and fucked me at the bathhouse in Fort Erie.”

I smile and nod, not remembering him at all. 

But now I write a blog. 

And I think I will.

 

I promise that I’ve never had the dog before…