Date: Mon, 23 Jun 2008 21:16:03 +0800 From: Terry Byfield Subject: Kings Park Homosexual, young male sex Adult-youth Interracial If you are under the age of 18 or if it is illegal to read stories of a homosexual nature where you live please do not read further. Kings Park Most cities in any part of the world once touched by the expanse of the former British Empire will have a Kings Park. It seems that there was some need to acknowledge the realm by naming a favourite part of the city after the incumbent regent. Our city was no different in that respect, but the unique thing about our Kings Park in Perth, Western Australia, was that it was over 4 square kilometres in size. This massive park encompassed native bushland, sports complexes, restaurants, botanical gardens, war memorials and grassed parks with remarkable sculptures and water features. More than this, the whole complex was situated in the most remarkable strip of real estate, right in the middle of the city and overlooking the spectacular scenery of both the city and the wide Swan River. My need this particular day was far more primal than the beauties of this fine resource. I had been to, and concluded, an appointment but was now painfully in need of finding a toilet. I have found at 60 years that my bladder is no longer as flexible as it once had been, so when I needed to pee, I really needed to pee. Kings Park was conveniently close to where I had conducted my business, and I knew there were numerous toilet blocks scattered along the winding roadways intersecting the parklands, so I drove my dark Mercedes sedan into the nearest access road and went looking for the first toilet block I could find. It was no more than 300 metres before I saw what I needed, although it was on the opposite side of the road to where I was driving. I continued on to a roundabout and came back to park near the toilet. The toilet was about 20 metres off the roadway, located under towering trees and across neatly trimmed grassland. I had already discarded my shoes because it was my habit to be barefoot as much as possible, so I pressed the remote locking as I began my walk across the lawn to the brick-built facility, my feet already enjoying the sensual texture of the densely planted grass. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another person heading towards the toilet, but they were coming from another direction and were much further away than I was. Besides, the Park was always full of locals and tourists wandering around to enjoy the views and the parklands. I took no notice of the other person, except to note that it was a guy and he was Asian. My relief was immediate when I reached the urinal and released the pent-up stream of piss that I had retained. I didn't even notice the other guy come in to the toilet, his own bare feet as silent as mine had been on the concrete floor. It was when I had finished and was shaking off the last drips that I caught a glimpse of him at the wash basins to one side, and it was then I noticed he was positioned so that he could see me at the urinal. Furthermore, he was watching my dick so intently that he had not noticed I was looking at him. I wasn't worried about him looking at me, in fact I felt a little pleased that someone even thought that I might be worth looking at, so I turned a little and gave myself a good shaking off before I tucked myself away. When I began walking towards the adjacent basin he broke the visual contact and noticed I had been watching him. The boy was in his early twenties I would have guessed. Darker skinned than I was, although not at all black. He would have stood at 165cm to my 180cm height, he had black hair while mine was almost entirely white and I doubt he weighed a gram over 60kg whereas I was battling, and loosing the fight, to keep mine under 100kg. He wore a baseball cap, wrap-around sun glasses, a webbing-type tee-shirt and camouflage patterned shorts. On his back was a small backpack, the kind you might expect to see an avid camera user wearing. All of this I took in like a digital image in the brief seconds it took me to reach the basin where I intended to wash my hands. He had gone behind me and took my place at the only urinal stall while I went to the wash basin. Strangely, there were four wash basins, so I briefly wondered at the architect who had designed such a place with one urinal and one cubicle, yet four wash basins, each equipped with a large wall mirror that, because of the curved wall on which they were located, focussed in reverse on the urinal. This I discovered when I realised I could see very clearly the Asian boy stepping up to the urinal and unzipping his fly. Without having to expend any imagination or effort, I had a full view of him taking his penis out, retracting a little of the foreskin and pointing it at the urinal to pee. It was quite amazing, and I was further amazed at two concurrent events: my own reaction to seeing this happen, and; the fact that as he stood there, the boy was obviously jacking himself, his penis hardening slightly as I watched. I found some excuse to wash my hands a second time while I treated myself to this remarkably beautiful sight. There I had a quite attractive boy displaying himself to me, to all intents and purposes in my full view, even though I had not set out to find such a thing. I realised that I was watching him, and that if I continued to do so I would be drawing attention to myself and anyone else who happened to walk in on us, so I hurriedly dried my hands and began to walk out, glancing just once in his direction to make sure I had not been fooling myself in what I thought I had seen. Sure enough, the boy's penis was now certainly at some extent of rigidity, although not by any means fully hard. He seemed to be concentrating on stroking himself and totally unaware of me being there. I walked out of the toilet block, surprised that no one else had come in while I was there and expecting that there would be others heading in that direction. It was a fine cool day and there were hundreds of tourists in the park that day, but none of them were in the vicinity of the toilet block. I thought to myself: "What the hell. I may as well see how far this can go. Not every day that someone of my age can score!" Padding back into the toilet I half expected the boy would have finished his business and be preparing to leave. I walked over to the basins again and went through the motions of washing my hands again, all the time checking him out in the mirror. I almost did a double take when I saw that he was now at full mast, his penis pointing towards the urinal, a slight bend in the shaft the only detraction from an otherwise perfect and still beautiful appendage. The boy was casually rolling a cigarette, a pouch of expensive, fragrant tobacco perched on the top of the urinal as he completed the task and applied a light. I recognised the tobacco immediately, having smoked the same brand for many years and only a year or so previously given up the habit. It did not bother me to have people smoke near me and I sometimes, like now, enjoyed watching the enjoyment others could get from the drug. The boy drew the smoke deeply into his lungs and blew out blue fumes as he released the intake. I saw, at the same time, his penis throbbing in its extreme state of erection even though he was not handling himself. He was fully aware that I could see him and he was excited by the thought of it. I finished with my pretence at the basin and instead walked the few step towards him. He looked at me, his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses but his face somehow expectant. Another deep drag on his cigarette produced a cloud of smoke between us. I looked pointedly at his penis, the top of the glans poking out of the foreskin but otherwise perfectly composed. I had no idea if he spoke English, and my capability at Asian languages was very limited, so I decided to be candid in my own language. "A beautiful piece of equipment you have there," I quietly said. He looked down at it, sadly I thought, and in perfect English replied "You can have it if you want. Nobody else seems to want it." I was not at all sure what his intention was, nor what he meant by his reply, but I knew without doubt that I needed to at least hold on to that marvellous piece of machinery. I reach out and took hold of his manhood, immediately feeling both the warmth of his flesh and the intensity of his rigidity. He was very hard, and he throbbed and pushed into my grip with desperation. "What would you like me to do?" I asked him. "Anything you want," he panted. I bent down to him, taking the thickness of his shaft into my mouth and feeling the intensity of his erection. A little pre-cum was emerging from the partly secreted slit, and I sucked it up greedily. Venturing further, I descended on his mighty rod, only to gag when he reached my tonsils. I pulled off. "What is wrong?" he asked. "Is there something wrong with my dick?" "I haven't had the privilege of sucking a beautiful penis for over 10 years," I explained. "It will take me a little while to get used to one your size. You really have a beautiful penis." He smoked again as I nursed him, I could hear the deep inhalation followed by a long drawn out blowing as he blew towards the roof. "Will you go down on your knees so I can see you in the mirror?" he whispered. "I want to see you suck me." Apart from being unsure as to the cleanliness of the floor, I really did not want to get too involved in a very public place. I shook my head to tell him I would not get down on the floor, but continued to try and get more of him into my mouth. At some stage he must have realised that I was not overly comfortable in the open area of the facility, so he said "Let's go inside." He took my by the hand and began to lead me towards the cubicle. I reached behind me and grabbed his tobacco, still sitting on the top of the urinal wall, and passed it to him. "Don't forget this," I said as I passed it to him. "Thanks." The cubicle was, fortunately, designed to accommodate disabled persons. It was very spacious, so we easily had room to do whatever we wanted. Before the door was fully bolted he brushed his hand across my trouser front. "Are you hard?" he asked in his quiet voice, not much more than a whisper. I nodded, and he felt deeper into the cloth of my denims until he found my shaft, still pointing downwards because of the constriction of the material but nonetheless engorged with need. He opened the zipper of my trousers and quickly found the opening to my boxers, his warm dark hand eagerly guiding my needing penis onto the open air. It was an interesting contrast to see his skin colour against mine, the deep brown of his natural tan playing off to the pinkish brown of my tool. I did not dwell on this aspect for long, because he immediately began jacking my stiff rod to full erection. His own penis was steel stiff, noticeably throbbing up and down as his excitement built. I took it again in my hand and returned the manual stimulation he was giving me. With his other hand he continued to smoke his cigarette, each time he inhaled the smoke he seemed to become more enlarged and more erect, although that would hardly seem possible. The cigarette reached a small butt and he threw it into the adjacent toilet bowl. Crouching down in front of me, he swung his hat around so the peak was at the rear, took off his glasses, eased off his small backpack and took me fully into his mouth, all in one fluid movement. I was quite surprised: in my limited experience I had always found that Asians were keen to get sucked, but rarely offered the same service in return. With an expertise that could only have come from some considerable practice, he teased and cajoled my dick, giving me sensations I could hardly remember ever receiving before. His brown hand held the base of my shaft while his nimble mouth took care of the rest. I am fairly large, so I did not expect him to try and deep throat me, but he did. Every now and again he would look up at me and wink his dark brown right eye, sending me quiet messages of lust and, dare I say it, a fleeting glimpse of love. After a time he came up for air. He passed me a small bottle. "Do you want some poppers?" He had scrummaged the bottle from the side pocket of his backpack. I had never used any kind of assistance in my life, so I did not want to try something that I could not predict the results. I held on to the bottle, but did not use it, as he resumed his miraculous work on my now desperate penis. Running my hands through his thick black hair, I massaged his head while he gave me a workout to write books about. It seemed all to quick, although it was probably 15 minutes, before I was ready to shoot my load. I told him I was about to cum, expecting again that he would not want to take my sperm in his mouth as had been my experience in earlier years. Instead, he grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me in to him further than I had been before, his darting tongue forcing the most exquisite sensations out of my throbbing manhood. With this attention it took just a few more bobs before I exploded. Deep in my groin the blast began, shooting wildly through the network of passages along the way until it blasted out of my swollen glans and into his waiting mouth, skating across his tongue and down into the depths of his gulping throat. When he had sucked and licked every last drip of my ejaculation from my wilting penis, he let it go and stood up. Immediately I saw that he was in need of the same release. Pre-cum was leaking from his tool in extravagant amounts, dripping onto the concrete floor between his feet. I knelt and let him find his way into my mouth. He put his hands on my head, much as I had done to him, and fed himself into my mouth. My tongue found the gap between his foreskin and the glans and tickled his frenulum. He writhed with the pleasure of the contact and pushed deeper into me. I gagged again, still unable to quickly adapt to a previously frequently enjoyed pleasure, finding now that the years had made me forget how to take him fully as I wanted to. He was impatient, and pushed again, his need overcoming any hesitancy he may have felt about my own capability. Reluctantly I had to pull off him. "I am very sorry, but I just cant do it deep. It really has been too long and I would have to practice to get it right again. Please let me just suck you as far as I can. I really am sorry." "No worries," he said in colloquial Australian. "I am enjoying this anyway, so just go ahead." I resumed my work, finding delight in every part of his rampant tool, the spongy hardness of the glans and the soft velvety texture of the foreskin. The stretched shaft and the drawn up balls. Every bit of him was intoxicating. I reached around him for his arse and he quickly released the catch on his shorts, letting them fall away to his ankles. He wore no underwear, so I had immediate access to all of the beauty of his tight buns and the smooth skin of his thighs and groin. Briefly letting him out of my mouth I found his balls and took them into my mouth, massaging them with my tongue as I sucked them gently. He was well endowed, so one ball at a time was all I could manage. Seeing how this made his other need more imperative, I returned to the magnificent shaft that awaited me. He sighed as I took as much of him into the warmth of my mouth as I could. Reflexively he pushed again, then quickly stopped himself when he remembered that I was unable to take the extent of his penis into my throat. I appreciated his thoughtfulness and determined to give the best of my rusty ability, swirling around the now-exposed head and making my throat accommodate as much of him as I could before the gag began again. There had been a myth floating around when I was younger that Asian generally have small dicks. It was often touted in the same breath that Africans have large dicks. I suppose it meant that the rest of the world had average size dicks. Whilst my experience with other men has been fairly restricted, I have still managed to meet up with guys of most nationalities. The thing that surprised me most was that, with few exceptions, most guys are about the same size, and that the larger and smaller ones did not fit into the categories they were rumoured to. Here, on my knees in front of this great looking young Asian, I found proof again that size does not depend on nationality or colour. This boy had a larger than average dick, and as I ministered to it, it was continuing to grow. The time of his culmination was quickly approaching. I noticed his toes clenching the floor. His dick swelled in my mouth and hardened to the texture of marble as he toppled over the crest of his orgasm. His hands gripped my hair so he could keep steady and I held his buttocks tightly so he would not fall away. Five or six massive eruptions from his swollen head plastered my tonsils and the back of my throat with thick creamy juice. The salty taste was tinged with the bitterness of his tobacco, but I like that taste and remembered how special it was to savour. His whole body sagged as the impact of his ejaculation drained through him. When he had finished and recovered his sensibility, he pulled out of me, the action pulling his foreskin closed over the tip of his glans. Picking up his tobacco, he offered me a smoke but I declined. He rolled himself a neat cigarette and soon the room was redolent with the fine aroma of his tobacco. I noted that he must have been financially comfortable to be able to afford the luxury. Soon he reached down and pulled up his crumpled shorts, fastening them with his dick still sticking out. He went across to the bowl and peed into it, releasing a stream of clear urine that cascaded into the water there. I helped him shake it dry and then put it away in his shorts. Picking up his backpack and readjusting his hat and glasses, he reached over and patted me on the back. "Thanks for that. It was real good." While I was thanking him, he opened the door and strode off into the woodland area of Kings Park. I waited just a moment and then made my own way back to where my car was parked. When I looked back to see where he was, the boy had disappeared among the trees. It was then I realised we had not exchanged names or any other way by which we might get together again. With a feeling of sadness I climbed into my car and drove away.