Good-bye to Nashville

Nashville--December, 2011

The Professor and I tried to meet up again on my last night in Nashville. Unfortunately, it did not work out. Having had the two men the night before, I just stayed home on my last Saturday. Sunday morning I packed the car, and took my cup of hot tea to read in the park. I love symmetry. I wanted my last moments of Nashville to end as they began. And they did…
　
It has been cold. Unseasonably cold for Nashville. But Sunday is warming right back up. The previous gray days are giving way to one last sunny one. It’s somewhere in the high 50’s just in time for me to drive back to the frozen North. It’s early in the park. A few runners go by on the nearby track. An elderly couple walking two cocker spaniels wave at me. The hillside in front of me is a mass of gray trees, with an evergreen peeking through here and there. I have some green Chai tea and am reading an odd play by Christopher Fry until it’s time for Says You! on the local NPR station.

I am answering most of the questions right along with today’s panelists as a rather beat up car turns the corner, pauses and then heads straight for me. It’s not going the cruising speed, so I expect another dog owner. But it’s a lone man, who parks right next to me. A good country boy with flannel shirt and a John Deere baseball cap. He looks right at me. His window goes down.

I lower mine.

He stares.

I wait.

I turn the radio down.

He looks away.

I stare at him.

He looks at me.

I hold his gaze.

Then return to my book.

“Do you suck cock?”

I turn to him. I just smile.

“I want to get off.”

I get out of my car and walk to the woods edge. I take the path that has the most vegetation left on the branches. I hear him open and close his car door. Soon he’s coming down the same path. He’s undoing his pants as he appears in the clearing. He is semi hard just at the thought of it. It’s a thick dick, with a lot of foreskin covering half the head.

“Make me feel good.” He strokes it twice, pulling the foreskin back and exposing the deep red of the helmet.
I kneel. He’s freshly washed, but I can smell the musky scent that, after all these years, still makes my cock stir. I take him in my mouth. My tongue works around his cock head. My left hand goes to his thick shaft and forces some of the foreskin back in place. My tongue works between it and the cock head. He loves this. I can also sense he’s almost there.

He likely was ready to shoot when he rounded the corner in his car.

He grunts.

I deep throat him.

I come up slowly. I want to taste his seed. Two more swirls of my tongue across his flaring cock head and he’s shooting. More sweet than salty. I still am gripping his cock with my left hand. I don’t let go until I’ve milked and swallowed every drop of cum out of his spasming dick.

He zips and is gone. I stay in the woods a moment. I hear his car start up and retreat.

I love symmetry. The first thing I did in town and now the last.

Hello Nashville--and Good-bye.