Wednesday, November 9, 2016

A Voice In the Dark of Night

The Wilds of Ontario—September, 2016

I stayed the night at SteamWorks.  When my alarm went off, I went to find a shower.  The halls and rooms were deserted.   It was, after all, a Monday night now Tuesday morning.  I cleaned up and checked out before needing to renew.  It was just after 4:00am as I walked to my car through the sleeping streets of Toronto.  I napped a little in my car in its secluded parking spot.  And then, before I left town, a good full breakfast with a different kind of Canadian sausage.

I was not headed to my usual area for my camping this year—but to a big gay campground in Ontario.  Fortunately, for peace and quiet, it was after their main season.  Unfortunately, for dick and ass, it was after their main season.  I was meeting a fellow top.  (We often play when I head to the bookstore which is half arcade/half bathhouse.  He loves to share ass with me and likes my oral skills on his big dick…).  He’d been on his campsite there for a week in his big, new trailer.  I pitched my little tent next to it, so his dogs could keep their beds inside. 

We both knew this week was about relaxing—not getting guys into the outdoor play area. And thank goodness we weren’t really looking—for the place was pretty much deserted.  There were a couple of very large bears who came in on day passes and who sat at the pool.  My friend did point out a young couple who were cabin sitting for friends.  One was drop dead gorgeous and one was biker-chic hot.  We always nodded to them on our walks, but that was that.  Instead, my f-bud and I read.  I went to the theatre one night.  Other nights we had a campfire—something I hadn’t done in years.  We walked the trails—during the warm days and in the cool, star filled evenings.  It was great to pause in a late night walk and give him some head in the middle of an open field—the only light being those stars and a distant plane that moved slowly, blinking red, across the sky.

I was still having trouble sleeping—left over from my stressful summer.  I would go right to sleep but be wide awake at 4 in the morning.  Occasionally, I could go back to sleep, but usually I had to get up and do something.  This particular mid-week morning, I grabbed my computer out of the car and took it to the recreation building—the one public place with electricity.  I set up and began writing a blog post.  The only light in the place was from the screen of my laptop.  My only company was a rather tame chipmunk who was less surprised to see me, then the other way around…

I’m writing about a bookstore encounter.  It’s coming easily and I’m remembering what I did in vivid detail.  I am typing away.  I don’t get hard—but my cock is certainly plumped inside my jeans.
“Hey—there’s someone in here.”  The voice in the darkness is loud, even though he said it under his breath.

I look up, startled.  “Hello.”  I can’t see the speaker.

“Are you the guy in the tent?”

I admit I am.

The voice comes closer.  It’s two of them, actually.  I can finally make out that it is the young couple.  The tattooed Biker looking one is speaking.  “You horny?  My boyfriend wants to watch me suck some dick.”

I tell him I could be persuaded.  And ask him where.

“At the cabin where you’ve seen us weeding.   Ten minutes.”  And they are gone.

I pack up and tuck the computer into the car.  I piss against a convenient tree and go hiking around the semi-circle drive to their cabin.  They are both there on the screened in porch, sitting on an overstuffed couch.  They start stripping off as I come in the door.  Both are likely mid-30’s.  The gorgeous one is a Hollywood-pretty blond.  Ripped—without going crazy.  The Tatted one is decently put together, too, but with too many random tats.  But at this moment, he is giving off a great sexual vibe.

“He’s a top,” the Tatted One tells me, pointing at his partner.  “I am too, but I get fucked by him.”

I nod.

“But I love to suck…” and he stops mid-sentence as I pull my pants down.  “Fuck, dude.  I thought you were packing and I was right.” 

I finish stripping down to my socks. 

The Blond gets up off the couch, hefts my dick and says, “Fuck his face with that thing.”  The Blond steps out of the way and begins stroking himself to hardness.  The Tatted One gets on his knees to get me fully hard.  He’s good.  Repeatedly to the root.

“Get on the couch,” the Blond tells his partner.  The Tatted One knows just what he wants.  He lies on his back, his head on the arm of the sofa.  I step up on the couch and fuck into his mouth.  The blond steps forward so he can see my dick enter his partner.  “Damn, if I didn’t have to go to work, I’d let you pump that up my ass.”

Just the thought of fucking the Blond makes me fuck into the Tatted One’s mouth harder.  I pull out and let the Blond replace me fucking into his partner.  I lean over and position myself so my tongue is reaming the Blond’s ass on his backstroke.  He groans.  And it makes him shoot all over the Tatted One’s face.  He mutters a ‘thanks’ to me and goes off to clean up for work.  The Tatted One is mopping the cum off his face and licking his fingers.

He gets up and checks to see if other men are around.  It’s not yet 5:30am.  I’m pretty sure not.  I get him to settle back down and work on my dick.

He gets up again.

When he comes back I offer to eat his ass, too.  This finally keeps in place for a bit.  But soon he is up and checking the “noise” he’s heard.

His partner comes in, fully dressed, thanks me and leaves.

Now it starts in full force.  The Tatted One is everywhere but where he should be:  On my dick.  He’s at the window.  He’s whistling for the dog.  He is trying to find a bottle of water he swears he had (and I’ve never seen.) 

It sinks in that he’s high.

I get him back on my dick for a moment.  When he moves off me again.  I jerk myself.  On his trip to the other side of the porch, I corral him for a moment, sit him down and shoot on his face.  He barely notices.

I excuse myself, get dressed as fast as I can and go back to my sleeping bag.

And sleep.


On the day I left I did get my f-bud back to the play area in the woods.  He loves gloryholes…and the slurp ramp style GH’s there did the trick.  We had far better sex in those few minutes than I had with the two supposedly hotter men.

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