Two men in a hammock.

 I was just a 19 yr old dragging Main. I saw a guy with a tricked out YodaTruck, sitting on the tailgate, his hood raised.

It being a Summer nite, he was only dressed in a short pair of cutoffs, white crew socks and tennis shoes, a pukka-shell necklace, a crew cut, and some Swedish good looks!

I rolled into the parking lot, "...something wrong with the motor?"

He tilted his lantern jaw, "Have a look!"

By the time I got parked, and walked over, he had come around to the front of the truck.

"Whew! Slick!" I exclaimed.

"These trucks came with three engine choices, inadequate, run of the mill, and big."

He lifted a foot to the lifted-truck's bumper. Right then, a jock-pouch, filled with nuggets of joy, fell out one leg of his cut offs, while he continued, "This one's big."

"I'll say. It's packed in there, fer sure. I'm Paul." 

"I'm Trent, I'm just hanging out," (I'll  say!) "...watching the Saturday parade, y'know?"

He gave his balls a half-scratch. Through the mesh, I could clearly make out each.

"Yeah, my old 4-door hard top here, is all stock. But, ya gotta love the cuss, I bought it in Coloraduh, a 455 high-altitude-engine. Down here, at the Coast, she gets 21 miles a gallon!"

He came back, "Awe, I don't race, I just sit back and look for buddies to drink beers, and talk gears....once in a while find queers."

"We had one in high school."

"Ya ever get him to suck your dick?"

"What? No."

"Man, I never turn down an opportunity to poke my pole in a pie hole. Women, ...men, ...the ladies auxilliary.....a blow is a blow, it's not like we're having sex."

"You want a ride down, see the  new construction on 9?" I offered.

"Let me button up." 

(Awe. I liked his shorts staying up with his top button undone. ...AND his mesh jock hanging out)

He closed the hood, the tailgate, and rolled up the windows.

With his shorts still unbuttoned, he hopped in my calaboose.

He was sitting in the front seat, back leaning 3/4 on the door. 

I had a smaller, if direct, view of that pickle pouch.

"Boy she sure glides. Love these lead-sleds." His abs articulated  the sentence.

But, when he asked, "Can ya keep your mind on the road, while pulling out your dick?"

It was a curve ball.

Let's  face it. The guy had charm, charisma, and we could really end up with something. (I know right now, I want to watch him take his dick out, and jerk off, ...and I'm straight!)

"Yeah. Are you gonna..." He reached up a leg of his shorts, stretched out a jock, and cleared the way for his uncut, white meat, to loaf on my red upholstery.

I pointed the car down the almost empty side street, and used both hands to tug my fly, an flop out my balls and way too firming rod. "Allright! I've road-jacked with my buddy, Tim once."

He stretched across the bench seat, and his lips fell onto my shaft.

I was aware of driving, but, all of a sudden, I just preferred to pull over.

He felt the car slow, and stopped sucking and pumping, "What's wrong?"

"I just wanted to pull Over, ...and enjoy this."

"Road head isn't called Parked Head." He peeked his head up. Looked around. When he straightened up. His uncut glide-rod was throbbing hard.

"See what I mean? Getting a dick-suck, is a dick suck...nothing gay about it."

(I was reminded of me, and Tim Road-Jacking. Tim had reached over, and in a complimentary way, gave my balls a heft, and felt my pole with his calloused hands. "You've got some nice meat, Paul.")

I wanted to grab Trent's, but asked, "You're stopping?"

"You stopped 1st, remember?" He slowly stroked his erection, his pink head glistening under the street light, playing peekaboo in and out of that white protective hood.

"Oh. So If..." 

I could just take him back to his truck.

Or, I could drive thi journey ahead, and see where it goes.

"Look, I'll drive to the point. I know a clump of hammock where we can park just off of a service road."

He lit up, "Now you're talking."

Ripping off my t shirt, I aimed the Beast to the point.

He aimed his lips onto my point.

We were rolling down the lonesome highway, cool wind whipping around in the car, while his warm mouth was so snuggly vacuuming my slobber-covered shag car pet.

We got within sight of the lighthouse, and I backed the car into a nearby hammock.

While I was backing the car, his shorts and jock magically fell onto the floorboard.

I was glad I had flung my shirt in the back seat. I was yanking my drawers to below my knees, before Trent said, "Well, this is cozy. Man, you gotta feel how hard my dick got sucking yours!"

(Like I say, I had felt Tim's cock when were were jacking off, driving down on Biscayne road one night. It felt like super soft skin over a solid steel pipe!

Save the shoes... Tim was sitting there, full boner completely naked.)

I needed no further coaxing, to have a casual, social feel, and so, grabbed Trent's rod. It felt nothing like Tim's. Instead of tugging back and forth the skin kept popping over the head and my hand slipped entirely off!

It was like tryin' to grab a firm hold on a fish!

I had to learn a new way to hold-on to a dick, with that slippery sneaky-snake skin slurking and sliding in my palm.

"Your hands are having trouble, you oughta use your mouth."

"I don't suck dick." I firmly explained.

"Well, you actually said, a guy never sucked your dick before, and you liked that, ...at least your dick was having a good time." 

"Yeah, well...."

"So, what secret thing were you wanting to do, for a little fun, when you brought me to this heavy-hideout? Butt-fukkin?"

"Whoa! NO!"

"So, you had already felt another guy's dick. You only felt mine as a comparison? Do you eat puss?"

"I've been known to...."

"To me, dick tastes the same, 'cept easier to breathe..." (Trent looked around,) "...this kind of opportunity doesn't come around just everyday."

It was right there. There wasn't  a single thing wrong with it.

The size was on the larger side of average. The whole thing looked  clean and blond and handsome. The saggy balls had just yet perfect amount of squirrely blond hair to not be bald.

I had, only just gotten able, to grab and hold on, to the ivory tower pointing skyward.

I was enjoying the lumpy feel of the rigid shaft, as I was lazily jacking the wand of wonder.

My mind strayed, only for a split-second, and I suddenly realized my mouth was already enjoying the way it felt as well.

I swear I'd never sucked a cock before, never even wanted to. (Unless you count that time I was jacking off alone, thinking about fuckin' Tim's wife. He walked in, and caught me, and face-fukked me before I could get her fat ass off of me to protest...but, I wouldn't call that WANTING to suck his dick.)

It felt so perfectly fitting, as it slid into, and back out of my mouth...my hand exploring the marbles in the soft kid-leather blond sac.

When the nuts tried lifting and pulling away, I firmly clenched them, wanting them to stay.

Okay. Now I'm stuck.

I contemplated my desires as I felt the throbbing spurts, and the salty tang-ed blobs surrounding the white cock in my mouth.

•Do I release the spike? I don't  really want to.

•Can I get one or two more pumps in before it starts to soften?

•The copper flavor of this blob is rather pleasant...but, is it safe to swallow?

•The flippy little tip is so much fun for my tongue, I don't want to take off my mouth.

I gave on last lick before releasing my lip-grip...and suddenly Trent's hips bucked.

I involuntarily swallowed. 

His meaty paws mashed my nose into the fragrant blond pubes. 

I felt the hard-pressure leaking out of this mouth-rocket, as it softened upon my pallet and loosened in my throat.

I gave a shaft-legth lick, and as I approached the tip, it squeezed itself to freedom, glistening in the moonlight.

"Gears, Beers, n Queers" was my new mantra that Summer. 

If you enjoy my BJ/JO storytelling,  tell your buddies, (if not shoot me an email.)

If you've  had similar experiences, comment below.