Stories : Running Under the Hazy Southern Moon
I walked back to my condo on Peachtree Street after a great dinner with friends. We decided to turn the dinner into a wine tasting with all four of us ordering a different wine from the list. After gulping down three reds and one white, I was happy as a cat in the hot summer sun. So, I decided to walk home only ten blocks, instead of catching a ride with one of my dinner mates. The sidewalk was steamy and a bit hazy underneath the moonlight while folks moved quickly to get inside where the air conditioning could cool them down. On one lonely block I saw coming towards me a runner out for a late night jog. He was wearing a tight one-piece track outfit which did not hide his valuable jewels. His locks were long and banded back into a full ponytail that captured his dark wet face.
He approached seemingly oblivious to my slow, lazy walking gait. I could not take my eyes off his powerful body and muscular legs that moved in high, quick steps which made his middle leg bounce heavily in his nylon running suit. It must have been the wine talking that made me whistle when he passed by me or perhaps it was the manly, sexy sweat essence I smelled. Whatever put me in that hazy trance also had me turning around in my tracks to catch a glimpse of his full booty which had me in some sort of hypnotic spell. I just could not continue to move forward to my condo as he turned and smiled back at my glazed over stare. To my surprise, he turned around at the end of that block and headed back in my direction. I needed to turn around and keep moving but could not until he passed me again and suddenly stopped bending over to catch his breath.
Jeez, I was just a few feet behind him and his ass crack was wet with sweat as I clumsily bumped into him. I tried to apologize for running up on his fat booty like that, but he stood up and let me know that he did not roll like that. He told me if I wanted to apologize correctly that I should follow him around the corner to the alley and drop to my knees. I smiled in my trance-like state and followed his perfect body around the corner into a dimly lit alleyway.
I could barely see his next move as this stallion of a man began to unharness his arms from the top of his jump suit, peeling it down below his belly button. Clearly concealed in this urban cave-like space complete with empty boxes piled high, one trash bin and other scattered debris I chose not to focus on, my sense of smell was heightened making my dick grow tall and hard like a stalagmite craving to be deep inside this runners snare. His scent was salty with a fresh hint of grassy-lemon which reminded me of L’Eau D’Issey Miyake cologne. One of my all-time favorite scents in the last decade or so.
Before I dropped to my knees, he grabbed my head and forced it on his left nipple. I sucked on it, nibbling to make him moan as I enjoyed the salty taste. It helped to rid my buds of that too sweet dessert I had just consumed. He pushed me over to the other well-formed pec as my tongue caressed the dip between both solid, manly tits. After a few minutes, we heard something in the alley which sounded like a feral street cat. I started to growl like a tomcat that was letting all the alley creatures know this was my catch, so back off.
He laughed in response, pushing me to my knees. In one awkward move, I grabbed his sweaty track suit and pulled it all the way down his legs to tangle him up at the knees. Just in case he had second thoughts on our outdoors venue for gritty summer sex. His fat meaty dick popped me in the eye hard and firmer than when he was running, announcing abruptly that he was all in for the attack on my wet, smooth tonsils. Wrapping my hand around the base, I realized his dick was fat and long. I let my tongue lap up the sweaty remnants of his late night run. I slobbered on it from base to head until he forced his dickhead deep down my throat. I choked a bit while he held my head tight against his soft curly pubic hairs. I enjoyed breathing deep through my nose and getting high on the smell of a sweaty man’s crotch. He pulled out just as my choking spit splattered all over my shirt.
I moved to stroking his cock fast with my right hand while he let out loud moans. I think he needed me to apologize, fast and furious, since we did not want to get caught by the meddling Midtown cops. I obliged and let him face fuck me hard. The wine helped me relax and open my throat to his deep thrusts. His head started growing fatter and I could taste that salty pre-cum oozing out the wide slit. Suddenly, he removed his long dick and started beating it hard like he was sprinting to the finish line. As he crossed over the line, breathless instructions were spit out for me to open wide and lap up his tangy, pulsing stream of creamy cum. I enjoyed this better than any old fanciful dessert. So much so, I cleaned his dick up by sucking it dry. Not leaving behind a drop. His legs were tired as he pulled up his track suit; however, he was a gentleman and helped me up off my knees. He turned around and smacked that hot ass as he took off to continue his moonlit run. I ran to my condo with an oozing wet hard-on that impatiently forced me into the main lobby bathroom, jacking off a huge load with firepower distance. It echoed off the urinal porcelain so loud I thought the concierge might hear it and creep in on me. But that’s another story on the cooler tiled bathroom floor.
David W. Bradburn aka dwb42461