Wednesday, October 10, 2012


He had to be in his early 20's. He had dark Italian skin and hair and a baby face with deep dimples, rivaling my own. He had the lightest, brightest blue eyes. His smile was clear and blinding. And to this day, I dream about his dick. It was just perfect.

It was my first time cruising for something anonymous, an idea I got from an ex. I wasn't sure what the protocol was. I passed him on the trail and he smiled and sort of bumped into me as he passed. I stopped. I briefly remember having the thought that this kid wasn't cruising, he was just out for a walk and kind of clumsy.

It felt like hours. But I finally made myself turn. I walked in the direction I heard him heading and got to an overgrowth of stump and weed and spider. He cleared his throat behind me.

He was leaning up against a tree, out of sight from the trail, his pants around his knees, his cock in his hand below the light blue striped polo, and the sweetest smile on his face.

I dropped to my knees in front of him and he let go of the most absolutely perfect dick for sucking I think I've ever known. The perfect hint of vein, soft and supple and hard and red and tasty. I wanted to take it home to show it to my mother and prove to her that beauty does exist in the world. I opened my mouth and he shoved beauty down my throat. I gagged a little, but quickly recovered as he retreated and invaded me again. He grabbed my head and started really fucking my mouth, alternating between hard and fast and soft and slow. He slapped my face with his glans. I sucked at his balls, I kissed up his shaft, I sucked gently at the head. And then he pulled me to his groin, implanting himself as far as possible in my throat. And he came.

I could feel his core pulsing. He didn't just come from his crotch. My hands, which were grasping his waist to steady myself once he took his final plunge, could feel his entire torso rock with his orgasm. I heard his breath catching, barely audible. I could taste him as he pulled out and was briefly disappointed that he didn't cum shallower so I could taste more. He pulled up his pants as I stood. He pulled me to him and kissed me hard, his tongue searching my mouth for leftover remnants of himself. And then he turned and walked away.

I kept cruising on several different occasions, to find him. To find someone like him. I never did. It eventually occurred to me that I was missing the whole point of cruising. I wasn't suited for it. And that each experience failed to deliver like the one before. The fear and excitement was slowly replaced by a different type of fear and an overwhelming sadness. It only took six different strangers for me to give it up completely.

I could run into any of the six guys I sucked off anonymously on the street and I wouldn't know them. There would be that nagging feeling that I knew the first from somewhere. I'm fairly sure I wouldn't know from where.

I wouldn't recognize the second at all. I wouldn't know that the guy standing on the bus with me has choked me to gasping tears with his cock while roughly pawing at my breasts under my binder and talking incessantly about watching out for cops and how it's so hot that I'm a trans woman. I seriously stopped trying to explain that after him if there weren't prior knowledge. I learned to redirect quickly.

I wouldn't recognize the third at all. I would have no recollection of the guy standing in line in front of me to get coffee begging me for train fare in broken English after squirting the most horrible-tasting cum I've ever had the misfortune of swallowing down my throat. I wouldn't remember how his hand ineffectively groped my shoulder and legs and I wouldn't remember the mix of desperation and fear in his eyes before we even started.

I might recognize the fourth, but I wouldn't remember that the guy I'm interviewing with was the man who was hesitant when I climbed into his car in the church parking lot because he wasn't sure how I'd react to finding his cock encased in panty hose. I won't remember how silky smooth his cucumber-and-watermelon-lotion-scented cock felt in my mouth, or how his fingers felt playing with my dick and fingering me. I wouldn't remember how the guy decided to drive away when I hopped out to get a condom from my car after he had agreed to fuck me. I wouldn't remember how disappointed I was and how much I ached for meaningless penetration.

I wouldn't even be able to pretend to recognize the man who came to the house and dropped his pants in the living room. I couldn't tell you how tall he was, or how old. I'm not even 100% sure what his race was. His cock fit nicely in my mouth and I was able to deep throat him easily without gagging. His cum tasted really good. But he was too easy. He was not a challenge at all. His wedding ring dug into the back of my head. My brain went to bad places while he pulled his spent self out of my mouth, zipped up, and walked out.

I would probably recognize the last. But I may not remember from where. 

He was in his sixties, at least. His hair was still red. I briefly caught his eye while driving around one preserve, but there were cops out in droves that day. I caught his eye again, when coming around another bend, only to be disappointed by a family picnic. I left the preserve. And then I saw him again, on the highway, passing me, signalling way ahead of time for another preserve.

I had already resigned myself to going home and this preserve didn't have any good places to hide. It was much busier and less wooded. I pulled in after him anyway.

I saw him get out of his car and walk behind the bathrooms that were locked for the season. I saw a small trail through the brambles that I had never seen before. He stopped when the trail disappeared where the rest of the park could seen. It had obviously been made by animals or cruisers.

I squatted by his legs and looked up at him.

"I was hoping you'd follow. You seemed to have given up," he said.

I didn't respond. I unbuttoned his jeans and lowered his zipper.

"You have a doll face. Are you sure you're old enough?"

I nodded as I pulled his jeans and underwear down to reveal his cock. "Are you going to card me?" I asked as I encased his soft dick with my hands.

"No. I choose to trust you right now."

I laughed, took my hands from his dick and planted them firmly on his ass, which I didn't expect to be so well-toned. I maneuvered down and up again to catch his dick head in my mouth. Letting it sit on my tongue, while he caught his breath. I licked his frenulum with the aid of gravity. I encased his dick in my mouth, expecting it to swell and grow.

It did not. I accepted this as a challenge.

As I worked on him, I glanced up at him from time to time. His eyes were closed. He was not thinking of me. I heard a moan escape his mouth as I lightly scraped his shaft with my teeth. He started to get hard.

I worked at him more roughly now. I didn't avoid teeth, though I didn't intentionally use them. I handled his balls as if they did not have any nerve-endings. I licked up and down his lengthening cock and tugged at his fire-red pubic hair. I stuck a finger in his ass. And he came. And his moan came out so loudly I thought the model airplane enthusiasts 50 yards away might rush into the brambles to find out what had happened. His torso collapsed a bit once the last of his come had emptied onto my tongue.

He caught is breath as I pulled his pants up and carefully rezipped and buttoned them.

"I just came to suck. I haven't had a hard-on in years," he said

"It was my pleasure."

"It's supposed to work the other way. The old guy is supposed to suck off the young guy."

"Not in my world."

I left him and started to walk toward my car.

"Wait!" His call after me sounded desperate. As if he was trying to find any reason to keep me there.

I turned.

"Don't you want a blowjob?"

"I don't like blowjobs." I could see him trying to confront the loneliness that was beginning to engulf him. I could hear his brain grinding away, trying to think of some way to get me to stay. I imagined I could easily dominate him and he would have no choice but to submit. I could get anything I wanted from this man.

I turned away and walked to my car.  And I cried for him on my forty minute drive. I cried for him at a time where tears did not come easily for me. Before I got home, I dried my eyes.

I immediately walked into the bathroom. I washed my hands and face before I sat on the toilet. I brushed my teeth. I picked brambles off of my shoes and jeans for a half hour. I decided that this would be my last time. I drank water right from the tap, suddenly thirstier than I'd ever been before. I hopped into the shower and made the water as hot as I could stand.

When I was finished showering, I made dinner, discussed my afternoon with my partner, and watched a movie. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.


  1. Hot and fascinating and sad and lovely.

    I love the vulnerability of the pretty boy, even though he is cocky with it, the risk he takes is stunning.

    Beautifully written.


    1. Thank you, Ferns! Your thoughts mean so much to me!