Author, Author

My fourth-floor condo overlooks a fifteen-acre park in South Tulsa. It's a lovely wooded sanctuary with a creek running through it and several grassy lawns dotted by picnic areas and playground equipment. Jogging paths and trails crisscross the park, making even the forested corners accessible to the intrepid. From my balcony, I watch families enjoying the green expanses, joggers plying the paved paths, and single, furtive men disappearing into the trees. I'm not naive. I know what those men are up to.

I am a thirty-eight year old former college tennis player. I was once ranked thirteenth in the Big Ten Conference, which is impressive but not good enough for the pro tour. Thus, I gave up my dreams of hoisting championship trophies and started a career writing semi-literary novels in the mystery/suspense genre. I enjoy a faithful audience of readers and two of my books have made it to the big screen. Again, impressive but no chance of hoisting a Pulitzer Prize.

The close proximity of the park is ideal for me. Once an athlete, always an athlete. I run the paths almost every day and utilize the playground equipment for calisthenics -- pull-ups, sit-ups, etc. One day, I was hanging by my knees doing an abs workout when a man sat down on an adjacent bench watching. My T-shirt dangled, and I could feel him ogling my flexing six-pack. I had seen him before, eyeing me before wandering off into the trees. He was a smallish fellow, in his sixties (I would guess), trim and well-groomed with a salt and pepper goatee and a full head of silver hair.

I swung down to the ground and walked tight circles as I caught my breath. Our eyes met and we exchanged a smile. "Nope," I said. "Not today".

"Nope, what?"

"I know what you're up to. You seem like a nice guy looking for harmless fun, but nope."

"I'm Terence, by the way, and I don't know what you mean."

His coy smile elicited a chuckle from me. "Look, Terence..."

"Terence sounds too formal between friends. Please call me Terry."

Since when had I been elevated to friend status? "Look, Terry, I know you want to suck my cock. I don't think there's anything wrong about what discretely transpires down those paths, but no. Not today."

His tongue made a moist, lurid circuit over his lips as his eyes sought mine in a languid gaze. "You're right. I would like to suck your cock. I promise, you'd enjoy it, as well. Cut?"

"What?"

"Your cock. I'm guessing you're cut -- circumcised -- with a scrumptious, pillowy cockhead. I'm right, aren't I ...?"

His question tapered off seeking to illicit my name. I glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot. The park seemed strangely deserted. "My name is Marc, with a C. Yes to being cut. The rest is not up to me to say."

He was obviously a cultured man, the sort who enjoys a glass of fine wine in the evening while Mozart plays, or maybe Thelonious Monk. His eyes had a devilish glint that was both knowing and beguiling, while long, delicate fingers stroked his upper thigh. "I'd be happy to take a look and let you know, Marc. You know, as a friend. I'm guessing it's a very impressive specimen, just like the rest of you. All you'd have to do is mosey down that pathway. There's a cozy little nook where I would give you a look-see, then a long, luscious blowjob that you would never forget."

Normally, I'd tell a guy to fuck off, but I reserve rudeness for the ill-mannered louts. Terry was certainly not that. Instead, I grabbed my towel from off the jungle gym and wiped the sweat before continuing my run. "Nope, not today. Happy hunting, Terry."

"Well then, another day. Enjoy your run, Marc with a C."

As I settled into my gait, I realized that he had ended our encounter with a statement, not a question. Obviously, Terry was intent on crossing paths with me again and again. Rather than feeling stalked, I felt vaguely flattered, appreciated, like a bottle of fine wine.

That evening, I sat on my balcony with a cold beer and watched the goings-on in the park below. A couple of families were gathered around the picnic tables; the fathers grilling burgers while the mothers supervised kiddos on the swings. A trio of long-haired teens threw a frisbee with practiced grace. Some distance away, an occasional man scurried into the woods with a quick glance at the parking lot, hoping not to see a familiar car or a dreaded undercover cop. Those men usually emerged some fifteen or twenty minutes later and loped quickly to their cars. I could imagine their satisfied faces and drained cocks as they drove off, thrilled to have gotten away with another clandestine debauch.

I remembered Terry bragging of his prowess at fellatio and was convinced that it was no empty boast. The man had the air of a purveyor of pleasure, the lusty swagger of a gourmand who was excessively fond of cock and savored a good one with gusto. In my college days, I had succumbed to several invitations from gay men to munch on my Johnson. I had been a handsome, virile Jock and happy to have some discrete fun. In my senior year, there was a guy from my Econ class who I hooked up with several times. He was funny and smart, and he loved my cock. Once I got past my inhibitions, I enjoyed kissing him. More than once we wound up splayed across his bed in a steamy make-out session before he would go down on me with such finesse that I would be gasping for release when he finally allowed me to cum gloriously down his throat. He was far more talented than any of the women I dated, and possessed an array of techniques. He would slowly swirl his tongue atop my cockhead, and tease the frenulum, before sucking my seven-and-a-half inch member into his throat and make swallowing motions that sent paroxysms of ecstasy coursing up my spine. Once, he suddenly stopped a blowjob, crawled atop me, and slowly took me up his tight, cloying ass. He didn't ask, he just did it, and once I was ensconced deep inside him I wasn't about to object. He rode me hard and fast, and it was all too quick before I shot my load. It was the hottest sex I'd ever had and as we lay in the afterglow of that spectacular fuck he asked if I was ready to fall in love with him. The question startled me. I explained that my emotions didn't run that way. He winked and said, "Just wait". We fucked a couple more times that semester and, good god, each time it was fabulous. However, I could see in his eyes that his hopes for me grew higher. I broke it off for his sake but he was hurt and angry. From that moment on, I curtailed my amours to women. It was satisfying enough and the romance was there but, I admit, there were times ...

As expected, I saw Terry from time to time on my runs. I assumed he had synced up his visits to coincide with my regular workouts. Terry would tarry on the edge of the woods until I jogged past. With a wink and another appearance of his moist tongue, he would beckon me. My cock would invariably swell with hot blood but I forced myself to continue on. Time after time, until ...

He was standing there, smiling seductively as I approached down the path. "This could be your lucky day," he said lustily before his plump tongue flicked at his upper lip. I slowed my pace until it was a mere walk. I was captured by his smoky gaze as he smiled with satisfaction and walked into the trees. As if trapped within a tractor beam, I turned and followed.

After a few turns down the meandering trail I came upon him at the entrance to that cozy little nook. It was off to the side, shielded from the path by tall bushes that lent privacy. With an inviting smile and a sweep of his arm, he welcomed me into the privileged sanctum. I was nervous and the butterflies fluttering in my stomach rose in the quivering of my breath. "Come in, Marc. There is no reason to be shy with me."

With a hand on my elbow, he led me to a large rock in the shadow of an oak tree. "Just lean here and relax.


Terry managed to lower my shorts with a fell swoop as he sank to his knees. I watched spellbound as he leaned back to appraise what he had waited so long to see. "Oh my, that is a nice hunk of man meat."

With the cup of his hand, he lifted my cock. The tenderness of his touch sent tremors through my groin. Hot blood rushed in and my flesh began to harden and rise. He leaned in as he inhaled deeply with hooded eyes. "The manly musk of sweat and funk." As he exhaled, his warm breath enveloped my shaft. It was now fully hard and throbbing, and with delicate fingertips he caressed its length.

"Very nice. I'd guess a full eight inches and a truly splendid cockhead. Marc ..." Terry's eyes latched on to mine, "it is all that I had hoped for." As his gaze commanded mine, his tongue lapped at my frenulum. "Salty with sweat." Those plush lips sucked the cushion of my cockhead as the air was driven from my chest. "So pillowy and warm."

My head fell back as he teased my crown with lips and tongue, sending ecstasy sweeping through my core. Clouds skittered through the sheltering branches as waves of pleasure skittered up my spine. Terry's mouth caressed my soft tender flesh for several minutes, and his tongue made clever darts over all the right places. Then he took me deep and sucked on my shank until I thought the blood might burst from my pores. I gasped and curled my torso over his head, craning my cock further into his marvelous, juicy mouth. My fingers found purchase in his silver hair. I quivered, throes of rapturous sensations rocking my hips. Then, with the audible pop of suction lost, he pulled off my cock and looked up. His smile reflected his pride as he considered my gaping mouth and googly eyes. "Having fun?" he smugly inquired as he planted a tender kiss to the underside of my cockhead.

"Good god, yes," I stroked his hair. "I've never experienced anything quite so ... so ..."

"At a loss for words? Good. I love a good cock and you, Marc with a C, have a stellar one." His lips traced the underridge from tip to base then back again, before returning to nibble the dainty nerves at the root. After that, he gently engulfed my crown several times while holding my gaze with his. When Terry was satisfied that I was sufficiently enthralled, he said, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to suck the devil out of your beautiful cock until cum spews from your aching balls."

He never gave me a chance to respond before plunging his mouth deep down my shaft again and again, sending a whirlwind of pleasure roiling within my loins. With alacrity, he brought me to the edge of explosion before calming me to a luxurious delirium, only to drive me to the edge again. I heard myself pleading for climax, begging for exquisite release. He toyed with me until I was on the verge of swooning before he sent me soaring over the edge of ecstasy as I erupted into his mouth.

What transpired next could have been minutes or mere seconds, I don't know. What I do know was that when I regained my senses he was holding up my slumping body. Our eyes met and he asked, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Between gasps I managed to say, "Yes. You?"

"I had a great time. We should do this again, don't you think?"

I pulled up my shorts and managed to smile with a nod. Then, with a haste that bordered on panic, I stumbled out of Terry's cozy little nook. Wobbly, but gratified legs carried me through the rest of my run. The jogging path doubled back across the park. Terry was waiting on a bench when I passed by again. With a wave and a wink, his delightful tongue made a circuit of his plump lips. I chuckled at his brazenness and waved back.

I have always thought of myself as a man of restraint and discipline. In college, I become 13th seed in the Big Ten through focus and effort, and my standing was higher than my talent alone would warrant. Two decades on, I was only eight pounds above my rigorous college days. Most of that was muscle because I work on free weights now rather than my backhand.

So why was I becoming obsessed by this stately gentleman with the marvelous mouth? He would suddenly pirate my thoughts as I was trying to work and inhabit my dreams in the most luridly resplendent ways. Why? This was not like me. I didn't even know his last name.

What I did know, however, was that he was obsessed with my cock. Never particularly vain, I took to considering myself naked in front of the mirror. My phallus hung a respectable length but I had spent enough time in locker rooms to know it wasn't the biggest cock around. I would stroke myself erect and examine it from every angle. It was nearly eight inches and almost a handful in girth. There were two blue veins beneath the translucent skin, and muscularity in the way it jutted arrow-straight while stretching slightly upward. Its best feature, I had to admit, was the cockhead that was puffy and perfectly formed with the cum hole precisely in the middle. Certainly a decent cock but nothing so remarkable as to illicit Terry's fawning devotion.

Seeing Terry in the park became a regular event. There was always a lecherous enticement in his continence -- a wink, a gesture or that ever-suggestive tongue. Often I ran past with a wave and a shake of the head, but on an increasingly frequent basis my resolve would surrender to the twitching in my loins. Then, I would slow my pace to a walk and Terry would disappear in the trees. Nonchalantly, I would reverse my course and, as discretely as possible, follow him down the path. He was always waiting in the nook with a seductive grin and a salacious twinkle in his eye. As quickly as possible, he would have me pinned to the rock as he wrenched my shorts down. There was no need to coax my cock to tumescence. I was already hard and my cock would spring free of my waistband practically slapping Terry in the face. He would take a moment to admire it and comment adoringly "There's my Little Precious. I've missed you so much." I could tell he genuinely hungered for my cock. It was in his gaze, his touch, his eager juicy mouth. What followed was never the same. Sometimes he would attack my cock with a voracious zeal. Other times he would savor every inch of it with varying ministrations. One time he just kissed and caressed it as he described its allure in an almost poetic soliloquy before feasting on it slowly and deeply.

We assumed a habit of making small talk afterward as I hiked up my shorts. I complimented his leonine head of silver hair, his wondrous talent for fellatio, his gentile patrician manner. He would comment upon my physique as he kneaded my pecs and delts, and the blue of my eyes as he longingly pored his feelings into them, and he would try to inveigle his hands back down my waistband in inducement to linger awhile.

And so it went. As our lusty trysts continued, we became more familiar with each other as people rather than anonymous satyrs cavorting shamelessly in the shadows. An intimacy developed. A sort of relationship emerged. Finally on one occasion, as I was swept up in the euphoria of his veneration, I hooked his chin with my fingers and urged him to his feet. Before he could ask what was the matter, my mouth was on his as my arms pulled him tightly to my chest and my tongue started an Apache dance with his. Terry hugged my neck as we moaned in sync. Feral longing ground our lips. A horny tango rocked our groins. I tore my lips from his only to bury them in his nape, leaving sloppy kisses over every inch. He growled his lust into my ear in hot breaths.

"Marc, I want you to fuck me. I want to feel that beautiful cock inside me."

"Oh god, yes. I've got to ..."

In the bat of an eye, Terry stripped his pants down. Spinning, with one hand stretching a cheek aside, he pressed himself against my slick cock and sank. A velvety tightness engulfed my cockhead and slowly devoured the shank of my flesh. With the deliberateness of an anaconda, my cock was consumed by Terry's wonderful ass. My entire being became centered upon my phallus and the rapturous cloister that swallowed it. Stairway To Heaven echoed in a far off corner of my mind. My breath failed me.

When he was fully impaled, Terry rested his back agains my chest and took a deep, calming breath. I felt his inner self accept my manhood into his. He looked up with heavy-lidded, smoky eyes. I gaped into his. "Happy?" he cooed.

I answered with a stroke of my hand across his cheek and my lips skating atop his. Our mouths opened. Our tongues began a slow dance accompanied by our soft moans. Terry kegeled my girth. His hips began to sway. I broke the kiss as my head fell back in rapture.

Leaning forward with hands on knees, Terry began to swirl his hips, first to the right, then the left. I watched in blissful amazement. His ass was supple and firm as it gyrated in perfect circles with my cock buried deep within. I was lost within the abandon of being ridden, swung to and fro within the cloying, soft, slick sheath of his fundament. Like the tea cup ride at the carnival, I was being helplessly tossed and twirled within the licentious embrace of primal lust, dizzy within a carnal swoon. Moaning. Ecstatic.

Terry had the ass of a teen. It was smooth, flawless, and round with a muscularity that undulated with athletic ease. It commanded my cock as I was pinned to that rock leaving me defenseless to its divine ministrations. My heart pounded. I was enraptured by the beauty and grace of its dance.

Then Terry began to twerk. His ass cheeks clinched as he hunched forward, his sheath tugging at my shaft. Up and down, it clenched and released. Rapturous bolts shot through me. For minutes that seemed like hours, Terry enslaved my cock within the silken confines of his luscious depths.

Suddenly, his ass cheeks clenched and his sheath swathed my cock in a death grip. He rose until my cockhead nearly burst free only to plunge until I was buried fully within him. His ass cheeks would plump as they crashed against my torso but they never unclenched. Again and again, he rode the length of my shank, squeezing against the hot blood of my craning, yearning cock.

"Breed me, Marc. I need your cum," he croaked breathlessly.

Passion welled in my loins like magma, and rose feverishly within my cock. I resisted. I clenched trying to press it down but it was relentless, insistent, demanding. I grabbed Terry's churning hips and pulled him tightly against me as my breath exploded from my lungs and I erupted cum into his wondrous depths. I quaked with quivering gasps until I was spent, empty.

Terry collapsed against my chest. My arms encircled him as my hands caressed his chest. I left wet kisses atop his neck. He wrapped his arms over mine. Our hearts calmed together as the blood drained from my sated cock. When it shriveled fully and fell from his ass, my arms fell to my side, exhausted. From somewhere there appeared a red paisley handkerchief in Terry's hand. He lovingly wiped my cock clean before giving it one last kiss. He then wiped my splooge from his leaking hole and gave my lips a fleeting kiss.

"I'll sleep like a baby tonight," he said with that devilish twinkle in his eye. "And you'll be there with me in my dreams. Thank you, Marc with a C, for a stellar fuck."

"I did nothing. It was all you."

"Au contraire. You inspired every moment. You are my muse. You have been for a while."

He left me leaning against that rock in waning bliss as he disappeared from that hidden nook. My thoughts gathered and I marveled at the events, the path if you will, that led me to this sequestered spot of repeated debaucheries. I would never have imagined something like this happening to me, a man of restraint and discipline. Yet here I stood with my jogging shorts still around my ankles, dazed and confused, lost and delirious, thankful and blessed.

I was startled by a voice. "Ooo-oh, I want me some of that."

A man stood at the entrance of the nook ogling my dangling cock. He was leering and oafish, a randy toad compared to Terry. I quickly pulled up my joggers and brushed past him with a sneering "Fuck off" as way of saying good-bye.

Terry became a milepost along the way of my daily runs. Sometimes I would just shake me head and he would pout coyly with a lewd wink. Other days, I would blow him a surreptitious kiss. He would be gone when I doubled back and made my way discretely into the woods. I would find him at our familiar spot. We would exchange a quick kiss with dancing tongues before he freed me of my shorts and dropped to his knees. Magic is how I would describe what happened next. With marvelous lips and tongue, and a welcoming throat he would transport me to that realm of euphoric exaltation. Terry would adore my cock wetly and lushly until we both reached a peak of excitement. I would urge him up and lavish his mouth with the same zeal as he had my manhood. Then we would fuck with the same rutting fervor of beasts in the wild. He would lean over the rock as I took him from behind. Or he would lay me atop a towel as he rode me forward cowboy, or backward cowboy, twerking and twirling, grinding and gyrating. Or he would lie atop that towel and we would fuck missionary so I could kiss him deeply while I emptied my roiling, hot loins into his delectable inner self.

"Would you be my guest for dinner?", he asked one day. "I'm rather a good cook."

"I'm going out of town tomorrow."

"Are you really or are you just saying that?"

"No, I really am." I resolved not to tell him I was going on a book tour to promote my latest release. Though our trysts had become more intimate, we still hadn't exchanged last names and I wanted to keep it that way. In my mind, anonymity was the fuel for our passion and the candle-lit dinner that I am sure he desired was the last thing I wanted. "I'll be gone for seven weeks."

"Such a long time," he pouted. "Then we should exchange numbers and you could call me when you get back."

"Maybe we should just leave it this way and let our paths cross when they may."

Terry didn't mask his disappointment. As we parted, he threw his arms around my neck and gave me a deep, delicious kiss, the kind that left its memory on your lips. He was doing his best to assure that I would think of him throughout my travels. It was a hell of a kiss and I almost tore his pants off and fucked him again right then and there.

"Don't forget me," he said tremulously.

"I'll be thinking of you every day."