Those Secret Places

From: Shaun Fleming

Picture: Kent

Published in: Indulge, Autumn 1995 (issue 04)

He tugged at the waistband and adjusted himself. I stared in awe as a virtual monster appeared, crawling several inches past the convex button of his navel.

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Nothing quite tops the adolescent mind when it comes to creativeness. Most young men seem to find a variety of secluded hideaways to privately vent their irrepressible sexual urges, as well as numerous methods to release them. I can't remember for certain whether I learned how to pop zits or my load first. I do recall, however, which activity consumed most of my waking hours as a teen--as well as the various lengths I went to just to achieve my frequent orgasms.

The first requirement, of course, was seclusion. I jerked off in the local apple orchards of Southern Jersey. I sowed my seed onto the hay bales in our neighbor's run-down barn. Sent a multitude of tiny, white tadpoles swimming down the meandering stream that gurgled beneath an isolated railroad trestle.

My second necessity was some type of lubricant to apply to my demanding young cock. I pressed into service a variety of substances. Dish soap, three-in-one oil, shaving cream, Noxema--often with less than desirable reactions. But I was young and ambitious and there were still many tunes to be played upon my organ. If "Big Willy," as I referred to him at the time, occasionally became irritated due to constant abuse, it was merely a temporary inconvenience.

It just so happened, nearly fourteen years later, that I stumbled upon one of those "secret" places, similar to those that I had frequented as a horny youngster.

I was on a reconnaissance survey with the Department of Transportation. I was working closely with my partner Bill, a humpy number whose dick snaked nearly to his kneecap. We worked along with three other crewmen, staking out a stretch of county property when I discovered the location. Tucked away in a small clearing, amongst a grove of maple and chestnut trees, I ran across a rusted lawn-chair. A half-used container of aloe hand lotion was nearly buried in the fallen leaves beside it. The scene brought back a flood of old memories. I recalled my teenage years and the man escapades into the woods to release my pent-up frustrations.

I couldn't help fantasizing about the occasional occupant of the chair. I wondered if he were blond or brunette, stocky or slender, straight-as-an-arrow or still banging on the closet door. Like I was at that age.

"Hey, Mikey. Are you gonna stand there all day or are you gonna give me a hand with these measurements?"

I snapped out of my daydream. Turning to do a little surveying of my own, I examined the six-foot frame of the dark-haired instrument man. The furry chest that was partially exposed beneath his unbuttoned, flannel shirt. The narrowness of his hips. The bulging muscles which threatened to break through the thin material of his tight jeans.

They say that opposites attract, and Bill was certainly the antithesis of myself. Whereas he was dark, muscular and hairy, I was smaller-built with sun-bleached hair that curled about my collar, maintained a trim, but well-toned and relatively smooth body, and boasted what some people referred to as a "baby" face. My pert, upturned nose was centered between soft, hazel eyes. My full lips and slightly rounded cheeks blushed with a natural, rosy glow.

"I'm ready when you are," I shot back insinuatingly, turning from the scene with a slight regret.

We would be moving on to another job site after the weekend, somewhat to my dismay. The encampment continued to haunt me and, by the end of the day, I had developed a plan.

Bill inventoried the equipment and supervised the loading of the various transits, levels and plumb bombs, as well as the brush-clearing tools. I worked out the last bearing and azimuth figures on my calculator, recording the information onto the field notes. We headed back to the D.O.T. office with the other crewmen.

Declining my co-workers' offer to join them for a cold beer after work, I left their company. Making a brief stop at a neighborhood drugstore, I arrived back at the site shortly before dark.

I unwrapped my parcel, leaving two, plastic-covered "physique" magazines (one male, one female), as well as a fresh bottle of my favorite hand and skin lotion by the chair. Hopefully, whoever found them would put the articles to good use. Then, with a warm feeling of goodwill, I headed for the house.

I hadn't planned on returning quite so soon, but throughout the next afternoon my imagination kept working overtime. I envisioned some curious young stud venturing into the hideaway to discover that his "secret" place had been violated.

Giving into my nagging fantasies, I finally drove the nearly twenty miles to the survey area. Passing an occasional cottage or farmhouse, I wondered if one of them housed a strapping young man who might be frequenting our last job site to seek his own fulfillment.

Parking my Jeep Cherokee at a safe distance away on the gravel access road, I cautiously slipped through the woods. In the windswept grove I peered through the thick branches.

The eighteen-inch stake markers were still in place, as well as the ties we had nailed into the surrounding trees. But the magazines I had propped against the chair were now fanned out on the leaves before it.

With my heart racing a bit faster than normal, I hurried over to investigate. The plastic wrap of the "girlie" magazine was still in place; the male pictorial appeared as though it had been through the wringer.

I pried open the pages of the publication, the circumference of my confined cock stiffening with growing excitement. I examined the freshly cum-streaked photos.

Realizing that I had just missed the zealous visitor, and unable to control myself any longer, I dropped my pants to my ankles. Reaching for the lotion, my pale, blue-veined cock throbbed to attention.

It had been many years since I had done the dirty deed "el fresco." Just the thought of exposing myself outdoors, with the fresh breeze whipping across my swollen balls was enough to cause my expanded prick to drip with anticipation. I slowly commenced stroking myself.

I was so preoccupied with satisfying the urgent needs of extended boner that I failed to detect the quietly approaching footsteps behind me.

"So, this is how you occupy your time off!"

Reaching for my fallen jeans, I whirled about to find my immediate supervisor shaking his head disparagingly. He captured me in my moment of impulsiveness.

"Bill! What are you doing here?" I blurted out.

"Just looking for a piece of equipment that I thought we might have left behind," he smirked, confidently. "But I wasn't expecting to find a tool like this!"

I felt the color flushing my cheeks as my hard-on began to droop under the discerning glance of my partner. I was at a total loss for words.

"Don't be embarrassed, Mikey," Bill consoled, rubbing the hefty bulge that swelled against his thigh. "I could use a little action myself, and you're just the man for the job."

I felt somewhat dizzy as my burly partner made his confession. This was partially due to the fact of being discovered, but mostly from the lust that I felt for my hunky companion.

"Well, here I am," I announced rather feebly. "You've got me where you want me. What are you going to do with me now?"

Never much for wasted words, Bill simply pressed his muscular body against mine. His thick, fleshy tongue parted my lips to explore the warmth of my responding and eager mouth.

Without breaking our connection, he lowered me onto the fallen leaves. Dexterously, he slid my bunched-up jeans over my construction boots.

"You don't know how frustrated I've been; working beside you every day with that cute butt of yours constantly reminding me of my hidden feelings!" He breathlessly admitted. Holding my face between strong hands, his baby-blues examined me from behind dark lashes.

"I never suspected!" I sighed, still somewhat shocked by this turn of events. "I've often fantasized about being you, but never dreamt that it could actually happen."

"This," he grinned, "is virtual reality at its finest."

"You're about ready to burst through your pants," I laughed. "Get out of those clothes and show me what I've been missing all this time."

Bill willingly obliged, towering over me as he unbuttoned his checkered shirt. Beautifully sculptured pecs with perky, dark nipples that peeked out through a generous amount of short, brown chest hair were revealed.

He was solidly built, to say the least. Bulging biceps and a concave stomach that rippled with strength. But I was even more impressed when he kicked off his pants.

His finely chiseled, muscular thighs and calves were covered by a soft sheen of dark hair. The cotton pouch of his skimpy jock-strap swelled magnificently across the bulging contour of his dick and balls. A fringe of dark curls along its woven border exposed.

Sitting half-naked on the ground before him I softly began chewing on the material of the confining garment. I traced the outline of his thick cock while he groaned with approval.

He tugged at the waistband and adjusted himself. I stared in awe as a virtual monster appeared, crawling several inches past the convex button of his navel.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "I could use that thing to take field measurements with."

"Actually, I'm better at zeroing in on crosshairs," he boasted.

I longed to feel his stiffness inside of me, but for the moment I contented myself by playing with his fat cock. The thickness of it filled my encircling fist as I sucked the swollen contour of his nut-sack through the saturated fabric.

"Come here," Bill ordered, pulling away from me and lifting me to my feet.

He slipped his massive hands beneath my shirt, massaging my back with strong fingers. The fullness of his lips found mine.

Kissing me deeply, his tongue surveyed the entire cavity of my mouth. He charted my body with his hands, caressing the smooth curves of my pale, rounded buttocks. Fondling the furrows of my low-hanging balls, he brushed my stiff nine-incher with feathery strokes.

"You're driving me absolutely wild," I gasped, coming up for air.

Bill rested one hand on my shoulder for support. Pulling one leg at a time free from the straps of the supporter, he finally released his trunk-like cock and heavy balls. I stared in amazement. "Put this on for me," he smiled shyly with a secret purpose in mind. He handed over the garment.

I did as he asked and Bill knelt behind me, kissing and biting the exposed orbs of my butt cheeks. He probed the tight crack of my ass with his extended tongue.

"Well, if it's good enough to eat, it sure as hell is good enough to fuck!" He announced. His breath was hot upon my backside.

"There's lubricant handy," I proudly announced, indicating the fresh bottle of hand lotion on the ground. "But what about some kind of protection?"

"I've got that covered, so to speak," Bill replied, reaching for his discarded pants. "I always pack a rubber in my wallet for emergencies."

"I'd say this situation qualifies," I sighed, anxious to get his stiff yardstick embedded in me.

Bill quickly unwrapped the condom and rolled it onto the impressive length of his m cock. Greasing it with the tentatively he lubed the puckered entrance of my fuck-chute.

"You may need a little, too," he grinned, squeezing nearly half of the contents into the pouch of his jock-strap that I now sported.

I found myself upon my knees, draped across a log in a nest of leaves. My willing buttocks were upturned and ready for penetration. The fleshy protuberance between my legs was surrounded by a sea of hand cream.

"I'm ready, big guy. Let me have that range-pole of yours."

Bill did exactly that. Slowly, he inserted the bell-shaped head of his enshrouded cock into the tight portal of my butthole. Gripping me firmly about the waist, he skewered himself deeply into my bowels.

"You have no idea how good you feel," I gasped, acclimating myself to the intrusion with practiced expertise.

"You should be on this end," Bill exclaimed. "Talk about a great piece of ass."

He started slowly, sliding that strapping hunk of man-meat deep into my innards only to withdraw back to the gripping rosebud at the entrance. With every thrust of his mighty hips he accelerated the rhythm of his movements until he was hammering away as if pounding home a stake!

I spread my outstretched legs even farther apart as he continued to ram me, reaching into the greasy pouch of the jockstrap to grasp the throbbing length of my dick and enjoying the slick feeling of the lotion as it squished between my fingers.

But before I could get a good grip on myself, Bill shoved me forward, scraping my belly across the rough bark of the log, and plowed farther inside of me than anyone had ever reached before!

They must have heard him in the next county when he let loose that gut-wrenching growl and I actually felt the tip of the overtaxed condom swelling inside of me as it filled with the onrush of his orgasm.

But he wasn't finished with me just yet, hauling me to my feet and reaching around to yank down his loaned out supporter, his irrepressible organ still embedded in my rectum.

With one hand encircling my waist and the other caressing my greased up cock, he continued to pump me at both ends simultaneously, the tempo of his slick cock matching the beat of his encircled fingers.

I fell back against him, my senses reeling with pleasure as he jacked my dick, bracing my feet against the fallen tree branch for support with my horny ass lifted skyward.

"You're fucking fantastic!" I groaned as I twisted back against his pounding loins. "I'm ready to blow my load and second now!"

This only served to encourage the man as his fist became a virtual blur upon my tenderized cock, whipping the hand lotion into a froth with rapid movements.

"Oh shit, baby! I'm gonna shoot my load!"

That description hardly did justice to the flood that came gushing out of me. Never in my sexual lifetime had I ever released a torrent like experienced that day.

Milked by Bill's gripping fingers, a virtual shower erupted from my tortured cock, repeatedly squirting forth thick cords of jizz as if in slow motion to splatter onto the curled up leaves and the log between my feet and pelting into the sand like heavy raindrops.

I came continuously as Bill shoved that big cock of his halfway through my body, blasting forth one stream after another until I released a final squirt of oozing semen as he continued to rub my dwindling dick.

"Ohhh, stop! That tickles!" I cried, prying his hand free. "Get that thing outta there; you fucked me raw!"

Bill slowly withdrew and I was amazed to see that he was just as hard as before we started.

"Doesn't that thing ever give up?" I laughed, turning to rub against the hard furriness of his broad chest.

"No--neither do I," he replied, catching me in another lip-lock. "But tell me something, why did you decide to come out here to jack off, anyway?"

I explained about my teen years and the secret places that I had found where I could release myself and admitted my purpose in returning to the site.

"What made you think that you'd find someone out here?" Bill asked, lighting an after-the-act cigarette.

"Well, it worked, didn't it? You found the magazines that I'd left and evidently got a little worked up before I arrived."

"It wasn't me. I never got here until after you. I parked behind your truck, as a matter of fact."

"Well, if it wasn't you, then who found them?"

We heard a small cough and turned to find a rather striking, young blond standing in the trees on the outskirts of the clearing, wearing a midriff T-shirt, tennis shoes and flannel jogging shorts with a rather obvious wet spot in staining the front of them.

"This was my place until you guys came along," he smiled impishly. "But I have to admit that the two of you put on a pretty good show!"

My partner and I gazed at each other with raised eyebrows and similar thoughts racing through our minds. Bill was the one who spoke first.

"Come on over here," he grinned, welcoming the newcomer. "You haven't seen anything, yet. We can show you a few secret places of our own."