A Beemer and A Bike
At 19, I was only just starting to experiment with sex with other guys. Id been having sex with girls since I was 15, and was pretty up on that, but my experiences with other guys were hesitant and somewhat clumsy affairs. They happened by coincidence, accident or seduction. I didnt know how to cruise, had no game, and was generally pretty clueless. That would get addressed quickly, but on this particular day, I am very horny, in desperate need of another mans touch, and with only vague ideas how to go about making that happen.
I rode my motorcycle to a small village near the city where I live. To get to it, I passed through an abandoned military installation. Riding along, I saw a BMW 3-series coming towards me. Closing speed of 50 mph each, I had only a momentary glimpse of a blond man in a tank top. All he could have seen of me if anything was my eyes behind the visor of my helmet. I continued into town and gazed longingly at hot tourists and men working shirtless on their sailboats. Tan skin, hairy chests, and the little curly patches of hair at the bases of their backs. Still with no idea of how to connect, after an hour or so I gave up in frustration, to head home to another afternoon of compulsive masturbation over porn.
I decided to stop inside the abandoned base and smoke a joint. I parked on a promontory with a spectacular view of the bay, fired up, and let the smoke ease into my mind. As the pot buzz washed over me, my frustration eased up and I relaxed. But, suddenly, I had the peculiar sensation that I was being watched. No cars or other motorcycles had passed me. I looked around, and saw no hikers, joggers, or bicyclists in any direction.
Just about to give it up to pot nerves, I sensed movement at the top of my peripheral vision. There was sheer cliff on the other side of the road and at the top of it about 200 up stood a man. Silhouetted by the hot afternoon sun, it was impossible to tell who he was, what he was wearing, or what he looked like. He gave me a long, broad wave. I waved back. He made an equally broad come up here motion with his hands. I made a broad shrug how motion with mine. He gesticulated pointing to his right.
The bike was parked the opposite way, so I got on and turned it around. I looked up at him and he pointed again. I went about 1/8 mile down the road and, in a small clearing, I saw almost hidden in the foliage an unlocked and open gate. Easing the bike forward, I went up a deeply rutted dirt and gravel driveway, completely shrouded on all sides with trees and shrubbery. The bike slipped as the rear tire gained and lost traction, but I eased up the hill, and all of a sudden emerged on top of the hill into bright sunlight.
The blue BMW Id seen earlier was there, deserted. I parked next to it, took off my helmet and jacket, and looked inside. Inside was a tank top, and a couple of gay porn mags. I walked over to the edge of the cliff, to his vantage point where he had just been looking down at me. The grass was still compressed from where he had stood.
Looking to my right, I saw an abandoned compound of demolished buildings all either just the concrete foundation pads, or else just some stubs of the first floor walls. The whole area was fenced off, but I noticed a cut fencing section and was able to squeeze through. I took off my t-shirt and wandered in, wearing just jeans and sneakers. I got about 100 in and he came around the corner.
Id guess he was in his early 30s blond, but unusually hairy. He was just wearing a pair of small green gym shorts and some sandals. He bent to take off the gym shorts and stood up, naked. He picked his penis up by the base and began twirling it, helicopter style. He walked over to me and said, I see you found me. I could tell he was as stoned as I was, and I reached out to grab a handful of his chest hair, and flick his big brown nipples.
At this, he groaned, and one long thick rope of pre-cum slowly drooled out of his penis,dropping and swaying in the hot afternoon breeze, until it attached itself to his furry kneecap. Bending down, I took the strand in my mouth and scooped it in like a long strand of spaghetti, kissing the head of his penis to break it free. He was instantly erect, as was I. In a moment I shucked off my jeans and jockey shorts and stood naked, but for my sneakers.
Wow. Youve got a really hairy penis. he stated simply the lust and admiration obvious in his voice and his gaze. He led me by the hand into the maze of buildings to one that had to adjacent walls still standing, facing the afternoon sun. Inside it was glaringly bright. In the corner of the two walls was a foam mat, an ice chest, his pot supplies, and some more porn. Obviously, he came here to work on his tan, and hed been busy getting baked and sexed up when he heard my bike. And now, here we are.
The improbable nature of this encounter, the taboo of being outdoors, his incredibly hot body, all sent me into a wave of mental, emotional and physical turmoil and desire. We began kissing, licking, biting and sucking each other all over biting each others nipples, eating hairy assholes, and licking swollen cocks and balls. Falling onto the mat, we were a tumbling, contorting, thrusting, gasping, sweating co-mingling of two male bodies at the peak of sexual desire.
There was no way a moment like this was going to last long. Im sure it was at least five minutes, but nowhere near 10, before we were both grunting and groaning our mutual simultaneous orgasms as the heavy jets of sperm squirted all over our hands and bellies and bodies.
Regrettably, in that early stage of my development, the moment I got off I needed to get out. Ive gotten over that *smirk* but it was an almost visceral need to flee at that time. Jumping up, babbling something stupid about being worried about the bike, I ran to collect my clothes and rode down the bumpy hill and then straight home.
Even now, I can relive that moment step by step as if it was yesterday. I have little to regret in life either sexually or otherwise but I do feel very badly that I didnt at least take some time to talk to him, find out his name, perhaps find a way to connect again. At that time, long before the internet and craigslist, it would have taken a coincidental miracle to find him again. I went back every weekend for months, but the gate was always resolutely padlocked. I never saw him again.
Comments? More? This is actually one of the tamer ones. Ive really gotten into some shenanigans over the years.