A club not called the Blue Wolf, but something similar, famous for a spinning mechanical bull, attracted many drunk dumb horny straight boys. I rode with two buddies. Young guys clubbed for sex. With friends around, we discussed girls, but I eyed the male talent when alone. We separated and mingled to hunt.
I met eighteen-year-old Marc at the bar, disappointed he shaved his magnificent golden locks.
Even though hot, I never fantasized over him, knowing I never stood a chance.
“How are you getting home?” he asked.
“I’m walking. What about you?”
“Same, I’ll walk with you.”
When the club emptied, we left.
With two drunk “straight” dudes, the conversation steered to pussy and which girls he’d fucked. Marc’s far-fetched stories fascinated me, and I enjoyed him recounting his sexual adventures.
We cut through a wood thick with weeds and tall grass overgrowth. The popular shortcut formed a sandy path. Once we left the main road, Marc pulled out his fat eight-inch uncut cock.
“I’m so fucking horny,” he said with a zealous smile. “Pull out your dick. No one will see.”
I played along and let my knob hang out. “My thing isn’t hard like yours. Maybe I had too much to drink.”
Marc jerked his fat boner while we walked, “My hand feels good on my dick. I wish I were fucking a wet pussy right now.”
With twenty minutes till my apartment, I played along, “Have you ever fucked a girl in the ass?”
Marc grinned, “Nah, but I want to. Have you?”
“Yeah, I have; it is amazing,” I lied, imaging Trevor’s butt.
“How was it?”
“It’s so fucking tight. You will not believe it. It feels different from pussy.”
“None of them let me. They wouldn’t even let me try. How old was she?”
“Not sure, around our age.”
“That’s nice,” he smirked, “how you get her to do it?”
My brain rushed, “She just let me.”
“She must be slut if she’s that easy.”
I chuckled, “Dunno, maybe she is.”
“Cock up the bum means no babies.”
“Yeah, man, who wants babies when we can have fun.”
“I don’t want babies; I want to fuck someone’s ass.”
Although drunk, I never lost my decision-making abilities.
Marc said, “Your cock’s so much smaller than mine.”
“No way, I’m a lot bigger than you.”
He laughed, “No way, man.”
“We should measure.”
“With what?”
“We hold our cocks together and see who’s bigger.”
He walked toward me, “Here, see.” I moved my cock closer to his, with both of us staring and comparing.
He grabbed our cocks and pushed them together, “Look, mine’s longer and fatter than yours.” He turned and continued walking. “Every girl told me I’m the biggest she ever had,” he said.
Wondering if I might entice him to grip my knob again, “I’m not proper hard. I had too much to drink. When I’m hard, my cock’s a lot bigger than yours,” I said.
He walked over and yanked my dick, abusing my knob. His glazed eyes gazed at me, “Come on, get hard, come on. We can measure.”
“Be gentle with my dick, and I’ll get hard,” Marc, a deer in the headlights, snatched his hand from my shaft and continued walking.
“**You** must make your cock hard. **You** must. So, we can measure. Go on. Make it hard.”
“Why don’t we stop and jack off? Then we can measure.”
“Yeah, let’s jerk off,” he faced me.
Our cocks side-by-side, he jerked himself and yanked my cock — rough, his tight grip painful.
“It always feels better when someone else jerks it,” I said, excluding him.
“Yeah, someone else must do it,” Marc stopped jerking himself but continued abusing my dick, “you do my cock.”
I stroked his warm rock-hard thick knob but struggled to stroke with my left hand, facing him.
“Lean against the tree,” I said.
I stood on two feet, bent at the knee, and pounded his dick, closing my eyes as he blew on my cheek, nose, and eyebrow. I stopped jerking with my hand, still gripping his shaft.
“Why you stop? That was nice.”
“You just came on my face.”
“Sorry man, don’t stop. I wanna finish.”
I moved to the side, avoiding another facial, and continued jerking him rapidly. He shot past my face, and I continued stroking him.
“Don’t stop, oh, don’t stop. Yeah. Don’t stop. Mmm,” Marc said while twisting his face. Cum oozed from his cock and formed a puddle by his feet. My fingers were sticky with his oozy spunk and my face soaked with thick clumps of sperm.
He gazed at me, “Thanks, man. That was good. Is better when someone else does it.”
“I also want to shoot.”
He yanked my cock, “How long you take to finish?”
“I take a long time.”
He stopped, “Nah, you do it,” and continued walking. “You know it’s better when I’m fucking a girl.”
“Yeah, fucking a girl is better than everything except pounding an ass.”
“I dunno.”
“A hand is better than no hand.”
“Your hand’s good.”
In deep, I added, “A mouth feels even better.”
Marc’s head turned. Imagine a dog smelling food. “Whose mouth?”
“Dunno, any mouth. A mouth is a mouth.”
Marc daydreamed over being blown, “What’s it feel like?”
“What does what feel like?”
“Getting your cock sucked. My cock’s never been sucked.”
“I only got sucked once, and it was awesome.”
“Did she swallow?”
“Nah, spat it out.”
“Yeah, cum doesn’t taste good.”
“You tasted your cum?”
“Nah, I don’t like it.”
“How did you taste cum?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t like it.”
“My cum was salty. I tried it.”
“Why you taste your cum?”
“I was curious, and it’s mine, not somebody else’s.”
“I guess,” Marc sighed.
What he said next confused me, “Why you didn’t taste my cum?”
“What you mean?”
“You tasted your cum. Why you didn’t taste mine?”
Stuck on how to answer, I lied, “I tasted your cum. You shot in my mouth.”
Marc grinned, “Nice. How was it? You like it?”
“Nah, man, cum’s disgusting. I spat it out.”
“Yeah, cum doesn’t taste nice.”
“I wanna cum.” We stopped walking, and I jerked rapidly and shot on the ground. “I’m finished. I needed that.”
“Nice,” we continued on the path.
When we arrived at my apartment building, he tried shaking my hand goodbye and stumbled. I never wanted him sleeping over that evening, and he walked home alone.
I never met him again. He joined the army and rumored they killed him in Afghanistan. I never found him on Facebook.
I wanted to experiment with Marc, stopping with fear, with me in the closet. He was friends with my sister.
