A gay story: Trail Blazer “Oh, thank you!”
I looked up to see who had steadied me. He was younger than me, wiry. His grasp was strong.
“Saw you going over,” he chuckled.
His laugh was easy, not harmful, but friendly, as if to say, “it could have been me”. But it was his eyes that made me stare. Clear blue, wrinkled, caring, helpful, loving.
“Thanks,” I repeated.
He was still holding my hand, though I was no longer in any danger of falling. And I held his. “As long as you want!” I thought, my smile matching his as it grew across his face.
When the seconds ticked by, I felt the blush in my cheeks, hoped he wouldn’t notice, since I was hot, sweaty, and sunburned from the morning’s work.
“John,” he said, giving my hand a gentle, friendly squeeze.
“Jack,” I answered.
“Hey you two! We could use some help moving this tree!”
We both quickly dropped our hands, looking over to our leader. We were out for the day on trail cleanup, something I loved to do. I used the trail often, and felt a need to give back, to support the trail. So I had signed up for a volunteer work day. I hadn’t planned on meeting anyone. I wasn’t much of a social person. My wife and I were homebodies. But since the pandemic, I wanted to get out more. My wife didn’t see any reason to, and left it to me to do what I had to do.
“Okay, on three,” our leader said. “One, two, three!”
The six of us, though not spring chickens, worked well together. The tree budged, then swung. We quickly had it off the trail.
“Great work!”
I was smiling at John. He was smiling back. “God, he’s good-looking!” I thought.
“Okay, Jack, Joan, and Keith, I need you to clear the trash from here to that red flag. Shelly, John, we’ll trim the low-hanging branches and bushes. I’ll show you how.”
I smiled, now embarrassed that I had been ogling John all this time, and headed off with Joan and Keith. Joan and Keith were a married couple, in their 80’s. I was a very fit 65, and didn’t mind that I picked up twice the litter they did. It took us another hour, and the sun was bearing down.
“It’s getting hot,” our leader said, bringing us some bottled waters. “We can call it quits.”
Joan and Keith moaned a sigh of relief, were already heading back to the parking lot with their bag of collected litter. I looked at the red flag. It was only 50 more feet down the trail.
“I’ll finish this up,” I said. “To the flag.”
The leader smiled, patted me on the back.
“Thanks,” she said.
I continued my quest, finding that I worked even faster when I wasn’t keeping an eye on the older couple. I was done in just 30 minutes. As I stuffed the last bit of plastic into my trash bag, I looked back down the trail we had just cleaned. My heart sank as nobody else had stayed.
“What did I think?” I mumbled to myself.
But I HAD been thinking, for 30 minutes of uninterrupted, focused bending over, picking up, putting in. I had been fantasizing, about John, especially when I bent over…
“There you are!”
I looked up, having tied the garbage bag. It was John! I swung the garbage up over my shoulder, onto my back, and walked briskly, tall and strong.
“I thought everybody had gone home,” I said.
“I thought I better come out and see if you were all right,” John said.
When I reached John, he took the bag from me, hefting it on to his back with much more ease than I had. He led as we followed the last bit of trail to the parking lot.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” John said, turning to look over his shoulder.
I was beaming! My stomach felt warm and cozy. He had been waiting, for me! He stopped, turned to face me. His face became much more serious.
“I’ve been getting some mixed signals,” he said.
I took a step towards him, coming up closer than was normal.
“Are you… flirting with me?” he asked.
I watched his face, uncertain if he was upset with me. Then there was a twinkle in his eye, his lips curled into a sly smile. My heart leaped as I realized HE was flirting with ME.
“I’m…,” I began.
How to say this, I thought. I was very attracted to him. But I had only discovered my interest in men ten years ago.
“I’ve… only been… with one,” I said, looking down at the ground, then lifting my eyes to look into his, “one… man,” I finished.
He smiled, kindness pouring from his eyes. John was the one, I thought. But I thought that about Alan, too. Better to be honest, right out of the gate.
“We were both… bottoms,” I said, struggling not to sound too afraid to talk about such intimate details with someone I had only met a few hours ago. “We… loved… but it… didn’t… work,” I stumbled on.
“I love bottoms,” John said, with another easy chuckle.
“And…,” I continued, “I’m married… intend to stay that way… just… need some fun.”
I searched his eyes as I winced at my choice of the word “fun”. But I needed him to know: (1) not public and (2) not permanent.
“I’m not saying not deep,” I quickly added. “I’m okay with deep.”
Both John and I laughed, as the double-entendre sank in.
“I like deep, too,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder. “I liked deep the moment I saw you!”
The parking lot was empty, except for my car, and presumably John’s. I waited as he tossed the garbage bag into the dumpster.
“You want to see my place?” John asked.
My face lit up! I gave a quick nod.
I followed John’s car to the other side of town. He lived in the outskirts, with heavy woods beyond. As I drove his long driveway, I enjoyed the old-growth oaks. His car disappeared around a tight curve, which ended at his house. It was more of a cabin, wood-sided with a rustic screened-in porch, nestled at the edge of a small meadow clearing. It all looked very friendly, welcoming, and peaceful.
“Sorry about the flowers,” he said, pointing to some past-their-prime wildflowers against the house. “I only plant natives, so they’re not real showy.”
He stopped at the steps up to the screen door and waited. I looked over his garden, ending with a scan of the filtered sun on the meadow. Standing still and turning my ear, I could hear the quiet trickle of a nearby creek.
“It’s so… peaceful,” I whispered, then thought to myself, the perfect place to lose my virginity…
When I turned back to John, I was blushing. He offered his hand. I put mine in his, and followed him up and inside. Still holding my hand, he led me on a quick tour. There was really only a main kitchen/dining/living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. We ended up in the bedroom. John caught me eyeing the bed.
“Let’s clean up, first,” he offered.
I blushed, again, this time because I knew exactly what he meant. Even though my first male sexual experience had been a meeting of two bottoms, or maybe because of that, I had been given instructions on proper preparation.
“You shower, first,” John explained. “I’ve got some house cleanup to do.”
I had noticed the unkempt nature of his décor, but just figured he was single. John got me a towel, pointed me towards the bathroom. I went in, closed the door. It was small, a sink, a toilet, and a shower stall. The shower had a curtain, and a shower head, with an attachment. I smiled. My previous lover had explained about douching. The distance from shower to toilet was gratefully short, and the floor and walls were tile, making any cleanup easy. I was finishing washing the rest of my body when I heard a knock.
“Can I come in?” John said, already making his way inside.
I heard him getting undressed, then saw his feet beneath the curtain. But when he didn’t come in, I peeked out.
“Sorry!” I yelped, finding him seated on the toilet, doing his business.
“No problem,” he said.
I heard the flush, then the shower limped along with the drop in water pressure.
“Join you?” John said, his voice low, calm.
I’m not used to being naked. I quickly covered my crotch with my hands. John chuckled. I gave a nervous smile.
“You mind?” he asked, soaping up his hands, putting them onto my shoulder, gently washing.
His fingers were magic. He followed the shape of my muscles, giving me a delicious massage, from my shoulders, down my arms, to my hands. He washed each finger, then took my forearm in his hands, and massaged the muscles back up my arm. He knew just how hard to press, especially when he found tight, overworked muscles. By the time he did the same to my other arm, I was relaxed. He pulled me closer and my eyes widened as his stiff penis found my limp one.
“You ARE a bottom,” John chuckled, rubbing, then lowering his soapy hands to gently fondle my penis and ball sack. “And shaved, too!”
I was about to protest, since I didn’t shave, just trimmed short, but his lips met mine. His hand came up behind my head and pressed us hard together.
I must admit, kissing has never been my strong point, at least, kissing men. I held the French custom, that kissing was more intimate than sex, so if I were queen, I’d rule that there could be no kissing until after the sex was satisfactory. But his swirling tongue, now inside my mouth, circling my tongue, was giving me an erection. He felt it too, squeezing my cock with his soapy hand, then grabbing both our cocks, and squeezing them together. When he moaned, I was afraid he was going to cum right then and there, so I pulled away, turned, leaned against the wall, and spread my legs. His hands were slippery with soap, as was his cock.
“The soap…,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I answered, and it was.
Losing my virginity, in a quick few thrusts, in the shower, from behind, with a soapy cock, wasn’t what I had imagined. But it wasn’t bad, either. His cock had fit nicely, filling me, without banging. I had practiced for years with a larger-than-life dildo, stretching and making sure I could take any man without pain. Though his cock was smaller than my dildo, it was attached to a real man, who had a real orgasm, and pumped me with real sperm and cum. And the sensation of his sudden shrinking, pooping out like a turd, was sensational. I pinched my ass closed, hoping to hold his gift as long as possible, at least until the next installment.
“Next time,” I said, turning to face John, “I’d like missionary.” And when John smiled, I added, “I want to watch your face during your orgasm.”
“And you?” he asked. “How do you get taken care of?”
I blushed. My hands went up and down his arms, then focused on really washing him, ending with his penis and ball sack gently rubbed by my fingers.
“I get my pleasure from yours,” I whispered, my fingers finding his cock head, squeezing gently, where I knew he was most sensitive, just at the ridge of his head.
He leaned forward and we kissed. His penis was getting big.
“Come on,” I encouraged, anxious to have him inside me, again.
I turned off the water, reached for my towel, and began patting him dry.
He made a big show of his erection, and muscles, stretching and flexing, spreading, to let me reach every corner, every crevice. Then it was my turn. He took the towel, motioned for me to raise my arms. He patted my whole body with so much care and attention that we had matching erections by the time he was done.
“You have any lotion?” I asked.
He did.
“Rub some on my butt,” I said, leaning so close that our swords crossed.
He squirted the lotion on his hands, reached down and grabbed each buttock. He gave me a delicious squeeze, enough to let the cool air reach my inner asshole. I hummed with pleasure. He knew what I meant. He rubbed the lotion over my butt, working his way to my crack. He grasped me tightly and tugged. He was inviting me to climb on, so I jumped up. He helped me wrap my legs over his hip bones, then slid his fingers back over my ass. Spread wide, it was easy for him to find my opening, and in. Two fingers, and they sank easily. I gasped, leaned my open mouth to his, inviting his tongue to find mine. With his other hand, he slid in two more fingers, and tugged my hole wide. I jerked, began rocking my hips, hungry for his cock. Fingers holding me open, he guided me down, until his fingers were joined by his fat cock.
“Yes!” I groaned, relaxing myself onto his pole, four fingers and all.
He chuckled, that same, loving chuckle, and navigated us into the bedroom. He remained impaled, until, falling over on the bed, he snapped out.
“Back! Back in!” I implored.
I scooted to the center of the bed, on my back, then lifted my legs, held my feet, and widened my ass. I pressed, and urged some of his cum to leak from my ass.
I grinned as I watched him slowly climb into bed, stopping to examine my oozing ass. He looked up at my face, and jumped on top of me.
“Inside!” I hissed, and he was.
On my back like that, feet high, I groaned as his cock pushed in, rubbing at my prostrate. I angled my feet to his shoulders, and he guided my heels to seat me high, lifting my butt. He slowly pulled out, then just as slowly slid back in. He was working hard at pleasing me, and I appreciated it.
“More, just like that,” I whispered.
After a couple more slow thrusts, I grabbed my cock.
“Faster, now,” I said, setting the pace with my stroking.
He kept up, until I got frantic.
“I’m cumming!” I gasped.
The pleasure of his cock intensified as my prostrate engorged. Just as I passed the point of no return, John grunted. He was going to cum soon, too. I forced my eyes open, locking with his. My balls spurted with a release I hadn’t felt since the blue balls of my teens. John grimaced, slammed into me. The bed creaked and shook. Our eyes locked, we took turns grunting our orgasms.
When I finally began to relax, the large pool of my cum tickled as it began to dribble down my side. John’s body gave a tremble, and his penis flopped out. As he rolled off of me, I relaxed my ass to let his cum leak from my hole.
John reached his hand up, to my crotch. My hand moved away, letting him do as he wished. He found my penis, squeezed, then rubbed my slippery cum over my belly. He found the puddle I had made, sat up, put his head down, and licked up every drop. His tongue made its way to my limp cock. I twitched when his lips sucked me into his mouth. He waited until I relaxed. Then his finger pressed along my perineum, from my asshole to my penis, squeezing the final cadre of sperm up and out as John suckled my life force into his.
Dry and spent, John released my penis, rolled over onto his side. I turned, spooned, curled my arm under his, resting my fingers, playing with the hair around his nipple. He took my hand, kissed each finger, then guided my hand down, down, to his crotch. He took a long, deep breath, then released a contented sigh.
Holding his member, safely in my grasp, I closed my eyes, remembering him inside me, the look of his orgasm, the power of mine. It was everything I could have imagined, and more. As I drifted to sleep, my last thoughts were of him giving me a blow job, something I had never had, never had an orgasm during. But maybe, John was the one.