A Connoisseur's Feast

By now, I could no longer ignore the urgency and inflammation that this spectacularly mesmerizing performance was stimulating beneath my shorts and about my jock strap. My lower torso demanded attention. Zipping down and removing whatever other inhibitions of fabric, I removed my turgid throbbing male parts, now damp with their own effluences to enjoy the warm sun and be swept by the graceful breezes of the summer afternoon. I looked over to my trail mate and he too had withdrawn his swelled arousal. Great minds think alike! His of course was the most statuesque of all present company. Any normal application of autoeroticism to suit the situation was completely impractical now. Any pleasing strokes that we would apply to our throbbing cocks would jilt the tools that enabled us such an irresistible view. In order to remain focused as diligent voyeurs, the best we could do was apply squeezes and tiny strokes about our tender demanding flesh.

By now the bearded man had stood up, one of his hands about the crack of his partner's ass at all times. With his other hand, he spits on his finger and slathers his cock with his own saliva. He then bent over to view the underside of his companion. Still bent over as well, he reaches underneath with his free hand to the end of his lover's cock and digitally robs him of the excitement juices spewing from the pee hole, the lover's nut sac languidly draped over his forearm. Pulling his arm back, the bearded man straightens up and applies the moisture collected on the palm of hand and fingers and applies that to the head and shaft of his cock as well. He then spreads his legs slightly and with his free hand he lines the end of his mushroom top like knobby headed large glans to the crack of his lover's ass, still spread open by the fingers of his other hand. In one quick movement of his hips, he pressures this cock end against the ass of his companion. The bent over man about to be impaled clings desperately to the tree wincing, "Ahhhoooo".

They both step about unsteadily, for this first effort at breach appears to have failed. The bearded man takes one step back, having let go of his cock; he returns his fingers to his mouth applying more saliva to them. He then has both hands back at his lover's ass and appears to be applying the newly derived liquids about the crack. He steps back in place, cock in hand, presumably ready for another attempt. This time, he applies pressure with his flexed hips at the strategic point without interruption, his hands tightly about the waist of the lover whom he was invading.

"Ugghhaaaaaahhhhh!!" The loudest moan yet. We could see the substantial dickhead of the bearded man was now buried in the orifice of his friend. The stiff barrier had given way. Not moving for a few seconds, the bearded man speaks something unintelligible to his penetrated lover. Bent over and clinging about the tree in seeming desperation, he responds by nodding up and down with emphasis. This is the signal for his impaler to begin stroking the ass tunnel with deeper thrusts. They both begin uttering audible grunts. The recipient picks up his head and distinctly yells "harder!" The bearded man increases the pace in and out of his lover. By now his strokes are deep enough to thrust his hilt against his companion's ass. His inordinately thick man bush is cramming the ass cheeks and his own low hanging balls are slapping into the sac of the recipient. The ass propped up by all the steady pummeling is raised in a manner that the invading party must begin to undulate his exceedingly narrow sinuous hips in order to retain the frantic pace of stroking. At the maximum depth of each thrust, both performers utter throaty grunts and groans emanating from their very viscera. Both lovers now look about, open-mouthed, trance like expressions, lost in a haze of euphoric delirium.

In the clandestine audience, populated by two peeping toms, the binoculars could well have become surgically planted extensions from our eye sockets. Completely overwhelmed in fascination, an earthquake could not have wrested those aids away from our faces. We could not lose one second of the breath taking explicit renderings before us, normally conducted in discretion and privacy. The gritty thrustings during the most intimate of human couplings ravishes the bowels of the recipient, finally stimulating him to a turbulent climax. His stretched cock bobs up and down like the baton of a frantic orchestra conductor. At its high point it throbs and squirts out a long streak of sun dazzled jism, much of which strikes the trunk of the tree he clings to.

"Arrrrrgggghhhhh," he groans in his ecstasy. Before he concludes his groan, his fuck buddy begins one. Completely withdrawing his cock from the doubtlessly tight tunnel that housed it, he grabs it giving it one pressured sweeping stroke, shooting out his own first streak of joy juice on the back of his mate now lost in the throes of physical passion. While most of the invader's spasms in ejaculation, discharged about the small of his mate's back and upper ass, the penetrated remained bent over; his over excited cock still flinching up and down in wide sweeps, ever smaller portions of liquid climax spewing from his pee hole. After a minute, they collapsed, rolled over to meet each other, and clung together in intimate embrace.

As an old saying goes, the fat lady had sung. We were now free to drop the artifices required for our observation and attend to our own urgent needs of male physical release. Watching Bob intently stroke about his awesome phallus, I required less than a half dozen strokes to force the tension and sweet heat of my loins through my groin, the base of my dick, the shaft of my cock, and finally released through my expanded pee hole in a splash of warm white earthily aromatic liquid. Resting for a minute, we slowly and surreptitiously gathered our effects. Again, aspiring to Indian style grace, we retreated in attempted silence, but when looking back, I noticed that we must have made some noise to alert them of our presence. They both were still on the ground but had covered themselves with clothes, distressingly looking about the terrain, presumably to discern the source of the noise.

Back on the main trail, we excitedly celebrated our good fortune by recounting our impressions of what we saw. We laughed and joked, accusing each other of comically lewd responses. "I saw you with those binoculars glued to your face," my trail mate uttered accusingly. "Your cock was bouncing around under your little shorts, I thought you were going to cum right then and there. I nearly wrecked the whole show. I was going to shout out, 'Blonde, whip it out man. Let it loose!' Then you finally had the sense to remove the damn thing on your own."

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Epilogue

In the SUV, when my excursion friend drove me back to the ranch that evening he was despondent. He tried to think up an account of our social exchange, radically different from actuality to recount to his girlfriend. "Anne, least of all, should know little about what really went on." I suggested he tell her that I kept asking about the ranch routine and inquired about my uncle's business. This was partly true. He told me that he thinks Anne might have enjoyed the unexpected intrusion on the gay sex, but he believes it was much more fun to watch it with me. We both laughed as we tried to imagine what her reaction would have been to his follow-up bout of masturbatory frenzy. Before reaching the long drive on the ranch grounds when there was no other traffic, he slowed down the car, and kissed me full on the lips. Before we opened any vehicular doors at the ranch house, we embraced in a warm hug, unobserved in the night darkness.

Just as I had alerted Bob, the remainder of the week was absorbed in close consultation with my uncle. I was carefully demonstrating to him the software operation and explaining how his business data integrated with its design and operation. I had given Bob my web based e-mail address, so he was able to send me messages describing how he was relating to his girlfriend and what he decided to tell her about me. As expected, he wrote that he missed me and especially missed my attentions to his sensation hungry cock.

I elaborated on a topic I had already discussed during one of our nude evenings together. I explained that many different 'personals' web-sites could be researched where he would be matched with any number of willing and ready cocksuckers just about anywhere in the country. The next Saturday afternoon, I had my little car packed and ready for my return home. I planned my departure to coincide with Bob's conclusion from work for the weekend. He rode with me as far as in town.

"I don't want to meet up with just any cocksucker. I want a blond who will be fanatical about it like you." I told him when I returned home, we would refine our search to seek out just the right cock man. We hugged many times as I pulled into the parking lot of his rustic landscaped apartment building. He pleaded with me to make plans to return as soon as I could.

"Blonde, I promise you that I will do the best I can to find a swimming hole before you come back. I may have to search pretty far a field, but I promise it will be a swimming hole we both would enjoy."

That is my story: the story of my favorite conquest. I hope you are now convinced that I am a connoisseur of cock. On this occasion, I was able to savor a connoisseur's feast.