California Lloyd – by Bulge Voyeur

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2017 true gay sex story: California Lloyd – by Bulge Voyeur. Where the Good Samaritan becomes a night-time voyeur…. I make no apology for the fact that I have an eye for a young man. And me being a creature of habit, it will come as no surprise that this one was about 20 and travelling with his parents when I encountered him – not once but twice on the same trip.

2017 true gay sex story: California Lloyd

by Bulge Voyeur

Genres: True Story, Boy, Exhibitionism, Gay, Masturbation, Teen, Teen Male Solo, Voyeurism

Coincidence? Perhaps, but I’m not one to “pass by on the other side” when a young man needs a helping hand, so to speak!

I was on one of my photography and sightseeing trips and I had spent a few days on my own in the ever-beautiful San Francisco. Now I was off in the direction of Yosemite National Park. I had booked in at a small family-run hotel a few miles outside the Park, a rather quaint old place with a timber frontage and antique furniture everywhere. It was about 9.45pm and I was sitting quietly enjoying a drink after dinner in the hotel lounge, reading the Yosemite National Park Guide and planning my route for tomorrow, while out of the corner of my eye, I was people-watching – you know, the way you do.

The lounge was quite small and the main Reception desk was in the corner near the front doors and I could see people coming and going. There wasn’t a lot of activity though, it being a very small hotel and most guests having already checked-in but there ventured through the doors a tired-looking middle-aged couple accompanied by a young man of about 19, presumably their son. Suddenly, my Yosemite Guide was but a blur to my eyes, as I listened intently to the conversation now taking place at the desk.

It seems they had been travelling all day; they had flown-in from Atlanta, then driven here from San Francisco. They had booked rooms in another hotel but had not paid a deposit and had arrived much later than expected; consequently they had found their rooms let to someone else; an unhappy set of circumstances at any rate, from which they now needed rescuing rather late in the day.

The desk-clerk was very sympathetic and clearly wanted to be helpful.

“Well,” she said to the middle-aged guy before her, “I do have one room available for tonight and it has a King-bed; I guess that would suit you and your wife but I’m afraid we don’t have any other rooms available and the room I do have is far too small for another single bed – even if I had one – which I don’t, I’m afraid. I’m awfully sorry.”

Meanwhile, I had been sizing-up the young man. I had already put him at about 20. He was about 5’ 10” and I guessed about 165lb. He had a tanned and well cared-for complexion, while his hair was short, though not quite military, his “hard” look was reinforced by rather fetching camouflage pants and a white vest; his smooth bare arms and the tight-fitting nature of the latter declaring that the lad probably worked-out; not a lot, just enough to build some substance to his otherwise lanky frame.

Obviously weary and somewhat at a loss for an alternative, I could hear the mother and father discussing something about a sleeping-bag and talking to their son. They appeared to be considering taking the room, provided their son could sleep on the floor. I stood up.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but I couldn’t help overhearing your dreadful story. I’m sorry you’re in such a pickle; you must be so tired.”

I had their attention, if for no other reason than for my English accent!

“I’m passing through here myself,” I continued, “and ….. erm….. well, it so happens I have twin beds in my room but I only need the one. If your lad doesn’t mind sharing a room with a stranger, he’d be welcome to have the use of the other bed in my room. It is only one night after all. It’s rather late – and it would avoid all three of you having to share the same bathroom too.”

As I said this, I looked at the young man and found him looking thoughtfully back at me through half-closed eyes. After a short pause, I added a diversionary remark,

“How come it took you so long travelling from Atlanta anyway?”

The father was quick to spot an opportunity, not to mention a polite foreigner,

“I say! That’s real accommodatin’ of you sir!” he exclaimed with something of a Southern drawl.

He turned to his wife for affirmation but the mother was more cautious. As she looked slightly sideways at me, she looked me up and down, while she spoke to her husband,

“Henry, dear. We haven’t even been introduced. We don’t know anything about this gentleman.” She turned and smiled at me,

“Please don’t be offended,” she said.

I assured her I wasn’t offended but the ice had been broken and an amiable conversation quickly unfolded, the upshot of which was that it was agreed that the son, Lloyd was his name, would share my room and the bill would be split 50/50. I tried to be nonchalant about the deal but, needless to say, I couldn’t wait to see what the young man looked like without the camouflage pants and white vest! My imagination was working overtime already and I was thinking of him sleeping on top of the sheets, like all self-respecting Marines, in nothing but his jockey-shorts! Preferably with his junk accidentally hanging out of one leg!

As the deal was sealed, I shook hands with the young Lloyd and a little jolt of electricity passed through me as I felt the firm grip of his hand and the warmth of his touch. He looked at me without blinking and I saw into his beautiful steel-grey eyes, the pupils of which were, interestingly, heavily dilated. He was either rather randy or, as was more likely, rather wary of this “strange” Englishman more than twice his age.

In the small confines of the room upstairs, I could feel the heat of his body radiating his musky masculine aroma and I tried to distract myself by making casual conversation with him. He seemed a bit shy at first, so I showed him quickly where he could stow his stuff and then diplomatically offered to let him use the bathroom while I went down to make some tea, as there was no equipment in the room. I offered to get him something but he declined politely. By the time I came back, he was already in bed, bare-chested and covered up to his waist by only the top sheet, the folds of which revealed the outline of his legs. The blanket was neatly turned down and his clothes were folded in a tidy pile on the chair. There was no sign of any underwear on top of the pile, as he lay back against the pillow, his muscular arms behind his head and his almost hairless chest laid bare for me to admire. His pecs were not over-developed but his shoulders were broad and his chest showed only a few tiny hairs around his nipples.

Drinking my tea on the bed, I chatted to him some more, trying not to look too directly at him. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help admiring that chest, the profile of his smooth face, his silky brown eye-brows, his button nose and his perfectly luscious lips. At last, I was managing to engage him a little and when I eventually made him smile, he showed his beautifully white teeth. My mind was now beneath the sheet, thinking about his other attributes; American, probably circumcised – I hadn’t played with a circumcised cock in quite a while, I thought. Then I admonished myself. “And you’re not going to tonight either!” I told myself, as I sighed and said “Goodnight,” to him and turned out the light.

Not surprisingly, I had trouble sleeping that night. I listened to every sound from across the room, as Lloyd lay there in the dark. He shifted in bed, trying to get comfortable, but he seemed restless. Eventually, after a couple of hours, he quietly threw back the sheet, sat up and lowered his legs over the side of the bed. In the shadows, I could now see he was wearing cotton shorts and I thought perhaps he was going to the bathroom but he got up and crept softly barefoot out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

I failed to mention that this hotel had a rather lovely 1st floor porch which led off the landing, just outside my room. In fact, my room looked out over the same porch and earlier that evening, I had sat there briefly in the cool breeze as the sun went down before dinner. I now recognized the feint sound of the screen-door being opened, as Lloyd let himself out. By my travel-alarm, I saw it was 1.15am and it was dead quiet everywhere.

I sat up in bed and wondered if I should follow him. I was certainly curious but I had no idea how he might react so I peeked through the slats of the blind to see if I could see him on the porch. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on the bench just beside my window, his legs outstretched in the shadow cast by a nearby streetlight. The light seemed to glisten over his taught body, which was entirely naked apart from his cotton shorts.

As he sat there, legs outstretched in front of him, his arms and hands were slowly caressing his body in the warm night air; first his neck, then his chest, his rippling stomach, across the top of his shorts, over and around his thighs, and then back to his shorts, where his hands now did a kind of circling motion over the mound that appeared to be growing within them. It was as if he was making love to his own body, gently but passionately; intently and oblivious. I was mesmerized.

The mound that was within his shorts eventually seemed to give birth, as his hands caressed his manhood and it rose from its nest, proud and erect, glistening like the rest of his body in the shadows. He was circumcised, for sure; I could see clearly the outline of the engorged helmet of his tool, now held upright in his grip. My heart was missing every other beat and I was sweating profusely from the excitement. And I now had an aching erection in my pj’s that was dribbling pre-cum all down my leg. The thrill of being a voyeur to his secret was better than any porn movie I had ever seen – because I knew he wasn’t performing for me or the camera, but for himself – and for himself alone.

As I watched through the blind, he slowly stood up and dropped his shorts to the floor. He was facing away from me and I cursed under my breath, as I was given the half-profile of his behind, glistening like another moon in the shadows. But it was such a beautifully smooth and rounded behind that I just gazed in awe and sighed to myself in admiration.

He stepped away towards the hand-rail overlooking the front of the hotel, both hands in front of him, obviously holding his dick, and he stood there with his back to me and his head on one side, as he began masturbating his cock over the rail. This went on for what seemed like ages and I was soaking my leg with pre-cum, my own organ twitching with excitement and my whole groin aching for release. “Turn around – please!” I found myself whispering. And as if he had heard me, he turned and leaned against the wooden column of the porch. At last, the whole front of his naked body was revealed in the half-light.

In his hands, he held the most magnificent circumcised tool, which he was now lovingly stroking. He spat into one hand and, using his own saliva, he was now lubricating the head of his cock and becoming more earnest in his stroking action. His knees were bending slightly, as with one hand he caressed his hairless chest, his nipples and stomach, rippling in the shadows before my eyes, and his other hand continued his now hard and purposeful action.

His head began to swing from side to side, as he passed into his own private delirium, his back pressing against the column and his feet now spread apart, knees bent, as one hand stroked the inside of his thighs and then grasped and caressed his visibly hairless balls, now tightly bunched-up into the dark forest of pubic hair around the base of his throbbing organ. My goodness, he was well into his “zone” – and I was transfixed.

Involuntarily, I grasped my own slippery tool with one hand, as I steadied myself against the wall beside the blind, my gaze welded upon this naked vision of beauty, seen through a tiny gap between the slats of the blind. As he continued his ardent stroking of his glistening dick in the half-light, he arched his back against the column, as he raised his manhood to point up across his stomach and I watched as his body seemed to jerk forward in the shadows, as his cum erupted like a small fountain from his tool, up across his stomach, in glistening jets caught by the light of the lamp across the street. Two, three, four times I saw his body shudder as his spunk shot up across his stomach. Suddenly, in agony, kneeling on the bed, cock in hand and my body almost in cramp, my own orgasm exploded uncontrollably from my insides and I shot load after load down my leg and onto the bed as I clenched my eyes shut in a mixture of ecstasy and agony, while I desperately tried to stay still without disturbing the blind.

When I opened my eyes moments later, he had gone and I heard the sound of the screen door again. He was coming back to bed! Quickly, I collapsed into my bed and pulled the sheet over me, only then realizing that it was soaking-wet from my own spooge. Uncomfortably, I just lay there in the dark, pretending to be asleep, as he quietly crept back into the room and slipped into bed, soon to drift into the sleep of the innocent – and the unaware. I now considered what I was going to do.

I must have at last fallen asleep though, because the next thing I remember was hearing him unzipping his bag and then disappearing into the bathroom, later to emerge in the daylight, wearing clean jockey-shorts and a fresh vest. I watched him through half-open eyes, as he raised first one leg to put on his camouflage pants, then the other leg, revealing the tantalizing black shadow of his pubic hair and pink of his hairless balls through one leg of his shorts. Then, just as quickly, the glimpse was gone, and he was buttoning-up his pants facing away from me, as I now got a view of his fully-clad, rounded behind, lit by the morning sun through the slats of the blind. I thought of the view I had of that same behind last night, glistening in the shadows on the porch, and my organ started springing back to life.

Taking a deep intake of breath, I let him know I was awake.

“Sleep ok?” I asked.

“Yeah, fine thanks,” he replied.

A short while later downstairs, we were all helping ourselves to breakfast and chatting politely. Lloyd’s father gave me cash for half of the room-charge and I established that they were all, like me, heading for Yosemite. But my initial excitement was quickly cooled when I learned that they were staying just one night at the Ahwahnee Hotel in the Valley, while I would be 2 nights at the Yosemite Lodge. The next day, they were going on to King’s Canyon and Death Valley, before heading for Las Vegas, whereas I was coming back to San Francisco to head home.

As we said our goodbyes that morning, my final act was to shake Lloyd’s hand (picturing, of course, in vivid detail what that same hand had been doing just a few hours previously!) and when I was sure no-one could hear, I quietly said to him with a knowing smile,

“By the way, I saw you on the porch last night.”

He stared at me and blinked in stunned realization, his hand still gripped in mine. Then I grinned at him and said,

“You know, if ever you need any help, you know who you can call.”

And as we parted, he realised that I had pressed into his hand a slip of paper with my mobile phone number written on it. But would I hear from him again? You Betcha!

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California Lloyd 2A: Being Good Samaritan has its Rewards

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2017 true gay sex story: California Lloyd 2A: Being Good Samaritan has its Rewards

by Bulge Voyeur

Genres: True Story, Anal, Ass to mouth, Blowjob, Consensual Sex, Gay, Reluctance, Teen, Virginity

The thought of watching Lloyd’s beautiful naked body masturbating naked on the porch last night was difficult to push out of my mind throughout the rest of the following day……

The thought of watching Lloyd’s beautiful naked body masturbating naked on the porch last night was difficult to push out of my mind throughout the rest of the following day but it is testament to the incredible and magnificent landscape that is Yosemite National Park that I managed to distract myself! The sheer scale simply leaves you breathless with wonder.

But I had my mobile phone on, just in case! However, during the day when I checked, mobile reception seemed patchy and I realised I was probably a fool to have even thought I might hear from him.

I checked-in at the Yosemite Lodge about 6.30pm, having had an exhausting day of sightseeing, rambling and, if I say so myself, some stunning photography. After I had something to eat in the restaurant and had a short walk around the Village, I turned in and told myself to stop thinking about him. And I turned-off my mobile phone.

I was up quite early the following morning and while it was nice and clear out, it was quite cold before sun-up, so I decided to take the Valley Shuttle before breakfast, just for a ride down the Valley and back, to get the lie of the land and to see where I might want to go later in the day. Out of habit, I switched my phone on but there were no messages, even though there was a signal. If I’m honest, I hadn’t exactly forgotten about Lloyd but I already knew he and his parents were only staying the one night and would, presumably, be checking-out later today and moving on; so I had told myself (more than once) to give-up on any idea of seeing him again.

That was until about 40 minutes later, when the bus got to the Ahwahnee Hotel and I remembered that it was the hotel he and his parents were staying at!

Perhaps I should also tell you that the Shuttle bus runs every 20 minutes at that time of the morning and I had caught the second one of the day. You know what’s going to happen next, of course?

As the bus pulled-up, 3 people got on; a geeky-looking Japanese hiking couple and a young man wearing a “North Face” parka with the hood over his head. As the young man got on the bus and acknowledged the driver, he removed his hood and I recognized him instantly instantly. It was Lloyd!

I went all light-headed for a second, as my stomach did that “flip, flop” thing, my heart suddenly raced and a shiver went down my spine and disappeared somewhere inside, behind my testicles! However, there were only about six people on the bus by this time and he still didn’t see me sitting towards the back; instead, he moved into the bus and sat down about half-way down.

As the bus moved off, I got up and moved down the bus and sat down next to him.

“Hello again,” I said, “Fancy meeting you here!”

I really couldn’t resist the humour of such an apt but corny line. He turned to look at me, stared blankly for a second and then his face broke into a broad smile as he recognized me. He had such a lovely smile; his whole face seemed to light-up and his eyes sort of twinkled.

Clearly pleased to see me, he said,

“You got my message after all then. The signal round here keeps dropping in and out all the time.”

“Actually, no I didn’t,” I said, “and I noticed that about the signal too. So what did you say, in your message?”

He hesitated before replying, “Er, just that, if you were free, maybe we could meet for breakfast,” he said. I nodded.

“So where are you off to now then?” I asked, “Seeing as how you thought I hadn’t got your message.”

To my amazement, he started to go red in the face. The blush grew from his neck until it filled his cheeks. He was embarrassed! He suddenly looked so cute!

Looking awkwardly out the window, then only briefly at me, he eventually admitted,

“I was comin’ over to your hotel – to get breakfast in the restaurant, on the off-chance you’d be there.”

“Well that’s really nice,” I said.

I wasn’t sure quite what to say next but as the bus was now almost back at my hotel by this time, it just seemed to follow that we both got off there and went into the restaurant.

Minutes later, we were chatting over breakfast about what we had each seen yesterday. He hadn’t initially struck me as the sort to be moved by beauty in a landscape but every so often, as we talked, he got quite animated and enthusiastic. I was really warming to him. He went on to tell me that his Mom & Dad had a Family Room at the Ahwahnee, so he had shared with them last night.

“No more nocturnal wanderings last night then, I take it?” I said, rather cheekily.

His expression changed. He looked at me and blinked slowly.

“Just how much did you see the other night, anyways?” he asked.

I just looked back at him, smiled and raised my eye-brows.

“Hmm. Thought so,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I should have kept quiet really – I don’t know what got into me.”

He nodded slowly, then said, “Anyway, thanks for not saying anything to my parents.”

Puzzled, I replied, “Why would I want to go and do that?”

But he didn’t respond. Instead, he now seemed to get a bit pensive. He looked down at the table, thinking; he was trying to summon-up courage to say something. Then he looked up and blurted-out,

“You ARE gay, I take it? That IS why you’re showing all this interest in me?”

I smiled and nodded in simple admission.

“Are you?” I replied softly.

Instantly, he started to go bright pink around the neck again.

“What gives you that idea?” he said, with a look of abject horror in his face.

There was what seemed like a long silence, while both of us felt awkward, not knowing quite what to say next. Then he surprised me by breaking the silence.

“I did have this mate in High School though – actually, he was my best mate really. Well, it turned out he was, you know, gay, and he tried it on with me…….and I er……..well…….let’s just say I didn’t deal with it very well and…….well, we’re not best mates any more!”

I wondered if he was warning me to back-off but on the other hand………….. I paused a second or two while I thought for a moment and then I asked,

“When was this?”

“’bout a year ago,” he said.

Then I risked asking the real question,

“Did he hurt you?”

He looked surprised and, shaking his head, he said,

“Oh no! Quite the opposite. I beat the living crap out of him! That’s why we aren’t mates any more!”

I was now taking stock of my own position and realizing I was in the company of a well-built young man who might just as easily “beat the living crap”, as he put it, out of me too! But evidently, this wasn’t what was on his mind. Realising what he had just implied, he was quick to reassure me.

“But don’t worry,” he laughed, “I’m not gonna do that to you!”

“I’m relieved to hear it!” I said, feigning a look of fear in my face.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Go ahead,” I said, thinking he was going to ask me something about my being gay – you know, the way straight boys sometimes do, just out of curiosity.

He said, “You aren’t Mormon are you?”

“Good Heavens, no!” I replied. Then it all began to fall into place. “Why – are you? Is that what all this is about?”

He now looked like the guilty school-boy, discovered by the Head-Master. There was a long pause and he then said,

“It’s just that, well, I haven’t been able to talk to anyone this way about it ‘til now.” And then he went on,

“Y’see, ever since that time a year ago, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and, well……..wondering, you know.”

“Wondering what?” I asked him.

He shuffled in his seat, looked around to make sure no-one could hear.

“You know,” he whispered, “…..what it might be like …….”

He looked down at the table and covered his eyes with his hand, as if ashamed. He picked up his coffee, took a sip and winced when he realised it was cold.

He was such a lovely guy. He was obviously quite sensitive and inexperienced in these things, and that clearly bothered him. He had also revealed he was a Mormon, and I knew very well what torment this meant for him, if he was questioning his own sexuality but was, as likely as not, surrounded by people of such closed minds and firm convictions.

He didn’t look as if he had shaved this morning either, although his skin complexion was so soft and smooth that I was longing to touch it; to stroke it. And I’m ashamed to say, I was half-thinking about that cute masterpiece I saw in his hands, by the light of the street-lamp at 2.00am the other night, through the slats in the blind!

“It’s quite natural to be curious,” I reassured him. “And it doesn’t necessarily mean anything – if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I was about to ask him if he had a girl-friend and stuff like that, when he pre-empted my line of thought.

“When you said goodbye the other day, you said, ‘if ever I needed help’. What did you mean by that?”

The conversation had now entirely lost its humour and it was getting very serious, so I didn’t try to explain the humour of my remark at the time; for one thing, they say (we say!) that Americans often don’t understand English humour anyway, so I simply replied,

“It was just a figure of speech – friendship, that’s all.”

He thought for a moment, still stirring his coffee – even though he knew it was cold.

“The thing is,” he began, “I mean, I know I’m not…..well, I don’t think I’m, that way…….but sometimes I just feel like I want to find out what…….” and he tailed-off in mid-sentence; then, lowering his voice and looking down at the table again, he whispered, “…..you know, what sex with a guy would be like.”

With a kind of pleading look in his face, he looked into my eyes and said,

“Have you any idea what it’s like to be a Mormon and feel like this?”

And then to reinforce his point, he added,

“I mean, what I’m telling you…..all this…….what you saw the other night……..we’re all taught that it’s an abomination; if I don’t repent, the Lord will abandon me. If anyone found out…….well, I could be ex-communicated. Even my family – my own parents and brothers and sister could never speak to me again if that happened!”

I nodded.

“As I said,” I tried to reassure him, “It’s quite natural at your age to be curious about sex – all kinds of sex.”

Then I tried to lighten the tone by smiling and adding,

“It’s a very sexy time, being 19! And in this day and age, it’s too much to expect a young chap like you to be strong enough to resist. It seems to me that your beliefs shouldn’t need to be so strict.”

I wondered if he was expecting me to give him more of a philosophical argument but he sighed, clearly not convinced, and remained silent for a while, as I sat back in my chair and tried to read his expression. He looked at me with those lovely steel-grey eyes. For some reason, he had decided to unburden himself on me, a relative stranger, and I was both flattered and touched. But there was something else; he had a motive; an agenda, even if he wasn’t sure of it himself.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked him in a gentle tone. He pursed his lips and bit the inside of his cheek, as he pondered for a moment and then, looking round again to make sure no-one could overhear, he said,

“I suppose you’ve had sex with lots of guys then?”

The directness of his question embarrassed me a little but I composed myself and replied,

“Being gay isn’t all about sex, you know!” I thought I would match his directness with a little of my own,

“But since you ask, yes, I suppose I have.”

“Look,” I carried on, “You obviously want me to help you; and I will, if I can,” I assured him. “We can stay in touch, if you think that’ll help.”

Looking down at the table, he glanced up at me and then, looking down again, he seemed to be getting a little irritated or impatient. Then, he muttered half under his breath,

“I just need to find out. I need to do it with someone who I can be sure won’t tell anyone I know.”

And he looked across into my eyes with an almost mournful expression; I finally realised what he was asking.

Part of me felt I should say “No” and encourage him to respect his beliefs and just try harder to put it from his mind. But the greater part of me just wanted to take him in my arms and cuddle him, kiss him and love him; and to tell him to make up his own mind how he should reconcile his beliefs with what he knew in his heart he had to do.

So I checked that he was free from his parents for the time being and then said,

“I think we’d better get some fresh coffee and go back to my place, don’t you?”

So we did.

When we got back to my Lodge, I told him to make himself at home, as I closed the wooden slats of the balcony screens, blocking-out the stupendous view now being illuminated by the morning sun. There was another son, inside the room, that needed illumination instead! The pale, diffused daylight permeating the room made his skin seem even more soft and smooth. He had taken off his parka, revealing the white-vested torso I was already familiar with. He was also wearing the same camouflage pants as the other day and at that moment, I chided myself for thinking, “I hope he’s showered or at least washed properly this morning!”

I sat on the bed next to him, sitting there with his coffee in his hand, the shimmering liquid surface revealing that his hand was shaking. I put his coffee to one side and gently put my arm over his shoulder.

“It’s ok,” I reassured him. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

His face turned to me and his soft features appeared now almost boyish; those silky-brown eye-brows, that button nose and those luscious lips. Now he seemed so exposed and vulnerable. And his expression made me want to just cradle his face in my hands.

As I did so, I moved toward him, and made as if to kiss him, and he turned away, gently touching my hand and moving it away from stroking his cheek.

“No,” he said, “I’m not ready for that. I can’t do kissing.”

At about 5’ 10” and about 165lb, he was quite a big chap; compared to me at least, but all of a sudden he seemed so small and cute – and lovable.

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