When I retired a few years ago, my wife encouraged me to take “a good long walk” every morning. I enjoyed the exercise and, among the various 4- or 5-mile routes I took, I found a few that included parts of the county park near my neighborhood. The park was a particularly pleasant place to walk, with well groomed paths, a playground, sports fields, and a varied landscape. And there were always people around involved in various activities or just walking, like me.

The path I enjoyed most wound through a rather heavily wooded area of the park. Though it was a lot less busy there, I would occasionally pass people on the path or see someone sitting on one of the benches in the shade of the woods. These were invariably older guys like me, or even older, and we would usually exchange a polite greeting when I encountered them.

One warm day, I had extra time to kill; my wife had gone shopping in the city with her sister. “We’ll be having lunch downtown today, so you’ll have to get your own lunch,” she had told me quasi-apologetically. I didn’t mind.

So, walking my favorite path through the park, I decided to stop and take advantage of the cool shade. I sat down on one of the benches for a while, probably three quarters of an hour or so, and watched the wildlife and the occasional human creature. After a while, a pattern emerged. I saw an old man leave the path and go into the woods on what looked like a deer trail. Later, another old guy did the same. And then I saw someone coming back onto the walkway at the same spot, another older dude. He glanced my way - furtively, I thought - before hurrying off in the opposite direction.

Curious now, I decided to investigate. I found the trail easy to follow as it meandered through some pretty dense woods that eventually thinned as I neared a clearing. I stopped and listened; I thought I’d heard a voice. Was that moaning I heard? I stepped forward cautiously and that’s when I saw one of the guys I had seen entering the trail - a tall, lanky fellow in a recognizably loud Hawaiian shirt. What was he doing?

I stepped to the side, behind a tree, to get a better angle. It felt sneaky, but I didn’t want to be noticed. I’d heard another moan and it was coming from somewhere else. And now I could see what the man was doing. He was masturbating!

He was standing with his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned and his pants open, staring across the clearing with his cock in his hand. I could see him stroking its evidently prodigious length. What was he looking at?

I stepped farther to my right, around the tree, and spied what he was watching. It was another man facing in my direction with his pants around his ankles. He too was masturbating. He was evidently the source of the moaning; he moaned again as I watched. He was bending forward a little and I saw that there was another guy behind him. Very close behind him. He was fucking him! I could tell by the way they moved together that they were fucking. Right there in the open! And they were letting the other man watch them fuck. And they were watching him watch them as they shamelessly copulated like rutting beasts.

I felt a flush of excitement. My dick was hard, straining in the confines of my jeans. I had never seen anything like this and was surprised by my visceral, erotic reaction. Gays, I thought. And the short guy is letting the big guy fuck his ass! Why did that turn me on? Gay sex had never interested me in the least.

But I found it fascinating! There was a look of utter bliss on the face of the guy getting fucked - did it really feel that good? - and the one fucking him was beginning to thrust more forcefully. He grunted as he accelerated, making his partner moan even more. “Yes! Fuck me!” he said, as he thrust his ass back at his assailant.

My dick certainly liked what I was seeing even if another part of me was saying, ‘This too weird. No, don’t look.’ But looking is exactly what I wanted to do! I felt a tremendous attraction to all three of these guys, old guys like me, pleasuring themselves in the open air. What harm could there be in watching a couple of old fags fuck? And if Mr. Hawaiian shirt could take out his cock, why shouldn’t I?

I unzipped and pulled out my dick. The fresh air felt liberating. I gripped it and stroked a little, but my pants were kind of in the way, so I unbuckled and pushed them down to my knees. There, that’s better, I thought. My dick felt big, hard, and very demanding in my hand. My balls felt heavy, in need of release. Every part of me was getting excited, like I was a teenager again.

The Hawaiian shirt guy stopped jerking. Holding his pants up with his left hand, he crossed the clearing to the copulating couple and took hold of the smaller man’s cock, pushing its owner’s hand away. They just kept on fucking. The little guy moaned again. Hawaiian shirt guy dropped his pants and then dropped to his knees and lowered his head to take the cock into his mouth.

I watched, stroking my dick with growing abandon as the guy in the middle started babbling, “Oh! Oh, yeah! Suck it, baby! Yes, yes, fuck me!” and the like in various combinations, culminating in, “Oh, I’m going to cum! Yes! Fuck the cum out of me, daddy! Eat my cum, cocksucker! Fuck me! I’m cumming! Fuuuuck!”

I was on the verge of cumming myself. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hear the guy coming up behind me from the trail, until a twig snapped sharply under his boot only a few feet away.

“Heyyy, buddy,” he said in a deep, soft voice, “Let me help you with that...”

I turned my head and saw a burly man wearing denim overalls without a shirt. In the second or two before he had his arms around me, I noted his bulk and his beard. He was about my height, but bigger in every other dimension.

I’m pretty average: 5’10”, 165 lbs, fairly trim and in shape, though not athletic. I have a fringe of white hair and a full white beard trimmed short and neat.

This new guy must have weighed 220. He had a round, protruding gut and thick, muscular, hairy arms that reached around me and pulled me back against his chest as he gripped my 6-inch boner and squeezed it. I felt his belly press into the small of my back. His bushy red-grey beard tickled my neck. The scent of his musky man-sweat enveloped me like a warm blanket. I felt his hot breath in my ear; it smelled of cigar smoke. “Yeah, buddy,” he whispered huskily, “let me feel your cock!”

My dick erupted almost the moment he touched it, prodigiously; copious amounts of cum spurted from my pulsating organ onto his fingers, into his hand. He cupped his palm to catch as much as he could. My whole body was quaking. I almost swooned; my new buddy held me tight, keeping me from collapsing. “Yeah! Yeah! That’s it, baby! Cum for your daddy!” His deep voice resonated loudly in my ear as my vision blurred and my head swam.

A deep breath cleared my head quickly. I was still excited. He let go of my softening cock, but it didn’t go all the way down, nor would it for some time. He brought his cum-covered hand to his lips and tasted it; I heard the slurp; I heard the “Mmmm,” humming in my ear. “Here, have some,” he said, putting his hand to my mouth. The smell of my cum, although not completely foreign to me, had a novel aphrodisiacal effect on me. Far from being repulsed as I would have expected, I licked his hand greedily, gratefully, savoring the nutty flavor, my first taste of cum, as I cleansed his palm and fingers with my lapping tongue.

“Oh, you like that,” he said matter-of-factly. “You want some more, hungry boy?” he asked. He turned me around to face him. It seemed effortless on his part; I felt the strength in his burly arms. He pressed me gently to my knees. The huge bulge down his left pantleg caught my eye while he unbuttoned the straps of his bib and let his overalls fall to the toes of his big black boots. He was naked underneath.

Impressions come quick. I was instantly aware of the hairiness of this husky man. It was not just his chest, which was dense with grey hair, but even his belly had a dusting of reddish-brown fuzz that grew thicker and darker lower down, forming a rich jungle in his crotch where his big balls nested and out of which, like a mighty oak, stood an enormously thick trunk of a cock. It must have been seven or eight inches long with a most impressive girth. It was uncut; its foreskin was stretched by its full erect state, showing a beautiful, pink head peaking out, displaying its little round piss-hole, which I suddenly desired to explore with the tip of my tongue.

“I got some for you right here, little buddy,” he said, taking the back of my head gently in his big hands and pulling me into him. “Help yourself.”

I did. I leaned in and for the first time in my life I tasted cock. I licked the little hole with a tentative jab and then swabbed the head with a broad stroke of my tongue. The flavor of his cock-flesh combined with the heavy musk of his groin’s ball-sweat made my head swim with lust. Who knew? I had no idea cocksucking could be so seductive! I wanted this huge slab of man-meat in my mouth. I opened wide and slipped my lips around the wide shaft, caressing the head with my receding tongue as I made room, welcoming him in, filling my mouth with it, though it was only a fraction of his big cock.

I felt a palpable joy: the knowledge that I could give this man pleasure. I wanted to make him cum. Not, as he implied, because I liked the taste, but because I wanted to please him, to pleasure him, to be the source of immense satisfaction. This is what a cocksucker feels, I realized. I wanted to be doing this, to be his cocksucker.

I sucked hard and I twirled my tongue all around that mouthful of hard cock as I tried to take him deeper, choking a little while swallowing the excess of saliva that flooded my mouth. I felt his precum oozing from the opening and I tasted it: clean and smooth and delicious. I swallowed that too.

He must have wanted to go deeper too, because he was helping me. He held my head still as he pressed gently, firmly into me. I thought of the sword-swallowers I had seen on the TV variety shows of my youth in the 60s. I relaxed my throat, a supreme act of will, willing him to take me, to fill my throat with his massive girth. My throat spasmed as he pressed through. My eyes watered, my nose ran, but I succeeded! He was all the way in! My nose was pressed hard into his fragrant fur. His balls bumped against my bearded chin. Breathing through my nose, I was filled with the scent of him; his musk was almost as arousing as the stretching in my throat and the firmness of the shaft against my stroking tongue as I sucked him.

My own dick was as hard as his now. We were one, united in this ritual, Man and Cunt. Yes, that’s what I felt like, a cunt. It was exhilarating. But it got better! He withdrew his shaft; the head popped back out of my throat into my mouth, precum flowing where I could taste it again. Then he pushed back in all the way. The friction at my constriction point no longer made me want to gag. It was an erotic tremor that went straight to my dick. And soon he was fucking me, thrusting in and out, long-cocking my face like the pussy it had become.

My dick throbbed with every stroke of his manly thrusting in and out of my throat. And when he came, my dick jumped - I almost came too. His thrusting slowed down, and then, with one last lunge, he held my face to his crotch and pumped his sperm deep into me, breeding my gullet. I felt each pulse from my lips to my tonsils, shooting down the thick shaft, injecting his seed into me and making me his. it was an amazing feeling. And I just kept sucking...

When the pulsing stopped, my feeder pulled his cock out of the depths of my gullet and its head through popped into my mouth again where my continued sucking milked out the remains of his cum. I could taste it now; It was subtly different from mine: a little stronger and saltier. I swallowed it gratefully. I looked up into the man’s eyes. He looked pleased and satisfied. He reminded me of my grandfather, I suddenly realized, although I guessed him to be a year or two younger then me. He had made me feel like a child, a child in his care, dependent on him. I hoped I looked as grateful as I felt. He had opened a whole new world to me.

“Who’s your new friend?” I turned my head and saw that Hawaiian-Shirt-Guy was standing next to me. His pants were all the way off now. His cock, partially soft, hung in a graceful arc, out and down; it looked like a good ten inches, but not as thick as the one I’d just sucked. I had to tear my eyes away from its magnificence to appraise the rest of him.

“What’s your name, buddy?” grandpa asked me.

“I’m Calvin,” I replied, looking up at the taller man. He was wearing nothing except the open shirt. His chest, slightly concave, had some sparse grey hair, more noticeable around his brown nipples, and he had a small pot-belly. He looked sturdy, though, and tall, over six feet for sure, even with his slight stoop, the way some men get from decades of desk work. He had a keen, intellectual look, like a writer or an academic.

“Calvin here is a great cocksucker,” grandpa said. And to me he said, “I’m Barry, but everyone calls me ‘Bear’.” He held out a hand to help me to my feet.