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23 Ağustos 2022, 22:42
Subject: Why Don't We Do It In The Rain? Part 1 First, importantly: support Nifty. Make financial or literary contributions to the benefit of all. This is a work of pure fiction intended for adult readers of legal adult age, at least 18 years-old and older if your Jurisdiction requires you to be 21 or more. Anyone younger should leave now. My stories involve sex in various forms between consenting persons and should not be construed as a guideline for living anyone's everyday life. WHY DON'T WE DO IT IN THE RAIN? Part 1 By Greylock Writer I'm a weather freak. A thunderstorm turns good sex into GREAT SEX for me. There's nothing like a big flash of lightning and the loud crash of thunder as you put the boost to a wild young stud. Or two. And that fits into a pet theory I have: the wetter the better. It goes back to when I was much younger. The first time I went in the woods and dared to strip off my clothes and beat off bare-ass, it started to drizzle. Those raindrops falling on my hot young body were like thousands of little fingers giving me the most sensual massage imaginable. When I came, I shot my big load clear across a creek. I was left breathless... and hooked! There is something exhilarating about being outdoors in the buff that never fails to excite me. Walking around au naturel can be a quiet pleasure as well as a big turn-on. Being unclothed doesn't have to turn into a sexual experience -- either with someone or solo -- but it sure as hell doesn't hurt! I've visited a few nudist colonies but it wasn't the same. Somehow, the very acceptability of being naked diminished its fascination. Most naturist outings in the 60's were as interesting as walking through a mall on a Saturday afternoon: there might be some riveting sights but rarely did anything ever come of them. And overt sex was usually discouraged or forbidden. I understand activities are far different today -- especially at the gay venues -- but I haven't visited them. Maybe it's time, though. I have always walked a lot because the views and opportunities are better. I've generally lived in big cities and use my feet whenever I can and public transportation (another source of wonderful visual delights!) only when I must. When I want to get away, I take a hike. I've hiked all the Appalachian Trail, much of the California coast, the Sonoran Desert, the Big Bend area of Texas and New England, and took a summer hopping the Greek Islands (and some Greek gods) before exploring the Aegean coast of Turkey and partaking in a few Turkish delights. Not to brag, but my legs are stacked rocks and my ass is chiseled marble. It's a surprise how firm it is when some hunky dude grabs ahold of me. The rest of me is solid but unspectacular. My upper body isn't as well- developed as my lower, but it's not bad. After all, it's hauled around many a backpack. My balls are average, but hairy, and my dick runs about seven inches, close to eight when I get extra tingly during a massively fierce storm. Sometimes I go out looking for foul-weather friends, hoping someone else is crazy enough to want sex with rain splashing all around. Usually, I find them under bridges, covered pavilions or in other semi-protected areas where there's a misty spray but not a full deluge. My favorite experiences have come when I went out never even thinking about finding a partner and the most unexpected happened. I'll start with one of my first memorable "accidents" that might give you the picture. Just after my first year in college I toured several wonders of the ancient world. My grandparents gifted me the trip thinking it was time to sow some wild oats before I settled into deeper studies and a serious career. I had hitched and hiked down to Ephesus on the west coast of Turkey. tuzla escort (https://hnuu.net/) Ephesus was a glorious city, second biggest in the Roman Empire for a time. Its extensive ruins are fabulous. The streets were paved in exquisite marble, rising through several hills from the harbor where a very sexy, determined Cleopatra barged her way in to woo Marc Antony. Over the centuries silt has filled in that wonderful harbor. But the city was very much intact and continuing excavations showed how truly advanced the "ancient" world really was. The excavations are a wonder from the huge amphitheater, the grand library, the baths of Hadrian and the many private and public buildings in various states of restoration. I visited in early summer. It was already broiling hot. And dry most days. Dusty. I climbed high into the hills for cooler air, a grander view of what a patrician might have seen two thousand years ago, and for a break from the throng of tourists soaking up history. I noticed a young man studying me at several junctures but didn't think too much of it. Maybe he hadn't seen many American men traipsing around in Bermuda shorts like they kind of owned the world. I didn't feel that way, but perhaps that was what he saw in his observations even though he seemed to be wearing shorts, too. With each sighting he seemed a bit nearer to where I headed. As I reached the ruins of a house perched at a precarious angle overlooking the city, rare summer clouds bunched up and a light drizzle started falling. I entered the house, amazed by the sensual mosaics in the floor. Several voluptuous nudes romped through a lush orchard. I examined the floor as the drizzle intensified. Were they in a state of ecstatic foreplay? They sure exuded sex. I felt a jolt in my groin. Finally, I decided to stow my backpack to keep it dry. I saw a small overhang in a corner and headed that way hoping for a quick, secluded jack off session. Only then did I notice my handsome young stranger standing in the shadows. He wore khaki shorts and sandals. Was he a tourist? A native? A guide? He beckoned me out of the rain into his darkened shelter. He had a neat beard and dark eyes that looked like thunder. The rain started to fall in sheets. We were facing each other not knowing what to do. Finally, he backed farther under the overhang and motioned me closer. I closed the distance until we could feel each other's hot breath making us sweaty and wet. We were about the same size, an inch or so over six feet. And we were both firm, muscular lads although I suspected he had a couple years on me. He had the blunt masculine face of so many young Middle Eastern men. His smile was sure and mysterious. And adventure danced in those deep, dark eyes. We stood toe to toe. Our eyes locked. His sweet hot breath became heavier and tickled the front of my neck. My knees nearly buckled. He looked solemn. Then, as my obvious discomfort increased, a half-smile lit his face. He licked his lips. My stare shifted to their inviting wetness. I looked back up to see him watching my gaze. His head moved closer. He blew softly into my face and eyes. My eyes closed and I sighed. Then, without wavering and without reservation, his full lips pressed on mine, his hot tongue probing into my mouth. His kiss was experienced, intense. We were greedy, sharing lips, tongues, and spit. I was lost in him. In his unexpected tenderness. He ran his hands up under my shirt exploring my firm hairless chest, then carefully lifted off my damp pullover. He slowly drew down the zipper of my wet shorts, then yanked them below my knees in a sudden strike. His tongue danced down my throat then across my pecs to suck on my small nipples. After some intense play his tongue wound down my moist chest, past my navel through my bush and to my rigid tuzla escort bayan (https://hnuu.net/) prick. He licked the tip of my cut cock, then up and down its length. He licked and nibbled at the crown, then quickly sucked he it into his mouth. He held it fully down to the back of his throat he began an up and down suction, gradually accelerating the velvety slide of his tongue and lips. The lush wetness of his sucking teased me to an excited brink. I squirmed while gently guiding his head up and down. "Suck it, nice," I encouraged. "Suck it deep. I'm still a ways away." I realized he probably couldn't understand a single word I said. The wind shifted and rain drove into us harder. The sting of the rain and the action of my new friend's mouth made me wild. His teeth strafed the pulsing veins in my cock as his tongue swooped all along my raging hard-on. I rammed into him and out, my dick a pounding piston and his mouth, an airtight suck chamber. When I neared a climax he eased up his heavy suction work and went to a gentle slurp and suck. He hoped to make this last as much as I did. I pulled us down onto the exposed mosaic floor as he kept my pulsing erection in his mouth. I pulled his shorts down and he wriggled out of them. In one quick motion he plunged his tasty cock down my greedy throat. I washed his shaft, then let the tip of my tongue tease the head of his dick. His foreskin hadn't fully retracted. I slid my tongue inside the hood. It had been bathed in some refreshing ointment. I pushed back the foreskin and the delightful aroma of roses filled my head. He used a sweet-scented soap or lubricant. He had come looking for an opportunity like this and had found me. How lucky could I get? The rain drummed and as we sucked each other's pulsing shafts, sweet raindrops dribbled into our mouths. We rubbed along the mosaic nudes as we grappled with each other. The rain spanked our bodies. The wetness made for wicked, exciting popping noises that rivaled our groans of pleasure. "Fuck my mouth," I urged him, still realizing he couldn't understand a friggin' word I said. "Shove that big, uncut prick down my throat. Don't stop, man. Fuck it in and out. Just stroke it hard until you shoot, fucker. I want all your cum." But it was hard for me to talk. I was groaning and grunting like a pig. He drove his cock in long, hard strokes, pumping it in down to his pubes then pulling out until my tongue hit his piss slit. Up and down. Then, just as we were close to mutually shooting he pulled out. He motioned me to relax. He smiled until I smiled back. The rain slacked off a bit. He pointed to himself. "Ahmed." I nodded. "Ahmed." I pointed to myself. "Jim." He smiled and shook my hand, "Jeem." He laughed and reached over to his shorts. He pulled out a plastic bag and fished out several green rubbery looking pieces. He handed me a few and kept the rest. I took them reluctantly. He popped one in his mouth and urged me to do the same. I held off as he began a slow, sexy chew. "Feeeg," he said. "Feeeg." "Figs?" I asked. He nodded. I ate one. It was dead ripe, sweet yet exotic, and a bit pasty with a host of minuscule seeds. His mouth worked the figs in a slow, sexy circular motion. "Good," I said and he smiled. I nodded a bit. "Merci!" "Much tasty," he agreed. "You, you are.... British? No?" "American," I said, pointing to myself. "Me, I am Turkish. From Anatolia," he said, proudly. "So, you speak English?" I wasn't sure if I should inquire. "Just a leettle," he said. "My brother learns this from Peace Corps men. He practice with me." The Peace Corps was pretty new and was helping Turks learn English, drill wells and other basic practicalities. "Have another feegs. Or two?" he asked. "Thank you," I said accepting a couple more, wiping some rain escort tuzla (https://hnuu.net/) from my eyes. Were these true aphrodisiacs? Maybe, if he thinks so, they are. But Ahmed's smile soon faded. When he finished his handful of figs, he plunged back onto my cock. It sprang to life harder than before. Now my dark friend's mouth started with soft, careful sucking but soon grew even more sensational. The figs made his mouth sticky. His gooey suction was fantastic. The pasty seeds were like something -- tiny teeth or invisible knives or very fine sandpaper -- that made me tingle in almost painful delight. My dick had never felt such diffused sensations. It was almost like some new drug had been discovered that focused on arousing a man's cock. Rain came again with greater force. There was incidental thunder with fairly close lightning strikes. Wind gusts drove it into us. Raindrops attacked like a million little pins. My whole body wanted to orgasm. I clamped my mouth on his hard rod and hoped to make Ahmed feel half the sensations I felt. My cock buzzed from top to bottom. Ahmed had hidden fig paste in his cheek and liberally reapplied more on my cock. My moans were loader, more guttural. "Suck me harder, Ahmed," I grunted. "But when I shoot my load, man, I may blow your head right off." "Ahmed, suckee," he assured me. "You go boom!" He laughed. Yet he wasn't much for words, but rather actions. He cupped my balls with one hand and pulled me toward him with the other. His middle finger played along the wet crack of my ass, teasing my vibrating hole but not entering. My hands played with his stiff nipples and combed through the wiry forest growing on his wide chest and chiseled abs. The rain had me excited. The sticky fig seeds had me at the edge. Ahmed sucked just hard enough -- just soft enough, too -- to keep me peaked until his excitement caught up. I reached to play with his nuts and felt them drawing up. We were both right..... there! "I'm ready to shoot," I warned him. "I'm going to cum, Ahmed. Watch out for my cream. Oh, God, I'm going to cum." "Come. Yes," he insisted. "Ahmed cum for you, too. Both cum." And he shot, his first wad splattering the back of my throat as my cock juice boiled up my prick and fired. My pleasure had me at the threshold of pain. I tried to push him away. It felt too good. But Ahmed kept on sucking. The rain kept on pouring. And we both just kept on cumming in heavy, violent jerks. My spunk roared out its chute. Ahmed swallowed every drop, with a greedy hunger. Finally, we stopped shooting, stopped oozing, stopped sucking and both fell back exhausted. Occasionally, we'd lick a dribble from each other's cock. The rain was suddenly over. Ahmed gave up a wide, dazzling smile. I laid back gathering strength and wondering. If that mouth was this talented, what might his ass be like? As the sun peeked out, I intended to find out. Unless he wanted to nail me first! But voices murmured up the trail. Some brave tourists already were heading our way. Rain wasn't about to stop their adventure, just as it hadn't deterred ours. Ahmed held a finger to his mouth. I wrung out my clothes and slipped back into them. I was combing my hair as the visitors plodded in to examine the mosaic floor in the suddenly dazzling Turkish sun. I turned to see if Ahmed wanted to follow me to an even more remote, more private site. But he was gone. I peered out from the ruins but could not spot him. I scrambled out and around the immediate area. No luck. I waited a while, hoping for his return. Again, no luck. Finally, I continued my exploration of the grand city. What an experience! That evening, as I walked down the marbled main street out past the last arch of Ephesus, I saw a small figure waving from a distant ridge, backlit by the setting sun. I waved back and smiled. I shook my head, happy but spent. Then, I started hiking north hoping to see what new Turkish delights ancient Troy might yield the next day. ********* Copyright 2021 by Greylock Writer