park-trough

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Subject: Chance encounter with chub at park trough Spotting the restroom was a welcome relief. I had been hiking these trails for hours, with tree fatigue messing with my eyes. It was the beginning of summer and not yet a squelcher of a day. But I had already worn through both my water bottles. And they were now wearing on me. I had found myself a clearing about an hour back, well off a remote path but with enough of a view to spot someone coming up it. I fished my dick over the waistband of my running shorts to take a leak — only to hear an audible gasp. How did I miss the couple hiking just down the bluff from me? I stuffed myself back in my pants, my hustle back toward the path turning into a fairly urgent jog. My search for a safe place to pee took me much deeper into the forest than I had planned. Each potential piss spot down the trail turned into multiple switchbacks, elevation changes, and eventually a flat open gravel area that was probably a quarry. I had never been to this part of the park, and it definitely was not what I had I mind. But the brown-roofed shack just ahead would more than take care of the pressing need in my pants. The Pavlovian response as I approached the men’s side nearly caused me to burst. I let my cock out as I continued stepping in toward the finish line. When I saw it. It was an ass cheek like a stubbly pale basketball, huge and round in its profile. Shocked, my eyes hit the floor reflexively as my penis peed away into the end of trough urinal. Panning upward at the figure just a few feet away at the urinal I caught cotton shorts around swollen ankles, dramatically tapering white legs that swelled to his midsection, punctuated by the bulbous overhang of the bottom of his belly that peeked under his shirt. “Sorry, I … ,” I said, struggling to get myself to stop peeing and leave this gentleman in peace for at least a minute escort ankara or so. He didn’t appear to be peeing, and I could feel the surprise bouncing off of him when I had stumbled up to the trough, my stream starting even before it reached the receptacle. “No, no, keep it going,” he said, turning his round head over his left shoulder so the flat bald spot faced me directly. He peered over the top of his aviator sunglasses that stuck above his stubby nose like it was pinning them to his face, with a thick but short mustache underneath it. “It helps to hear that! You get to be my age, and you need a little inspiration to get ‘er started. This thing don’t work as well as it used to.” I guess it was because he was drawing attention to his “thing” that my eyes drifted to his crotch. I couldn’t make out his cock. But it was impossible to not notice his giant balls. They were by far the biggest I had ever seen, like tennis balls drooping snugly in a loose bag. I became instantly aware that I was checking out the chubby man sharing the urinal with me and flipped back in shock. Here I was with my own sweaty, loose cock on full display as well, desperate to piss. And suddenly that piss slowed to a trickle, the pressure of my bladder still pounding but with nothing to show for it. I shot a glance down at my dick. What’s wrong with you? Let’s do what we came here for. Instead, the head of my dick had grown into a distinct upside-down-heart shape, reddening. The sound of my piss hitting the steel had given way to nothing, silence, for what seemed like hours. “You want me to start making water noises? Blurrrrrrgggh, hsssssssssssssssssssss,” he said, his belly and balls jiggling as he giggled to himself. A beat. And he side-shuffled in my direction. His hand touched mine, lifting it off of my cock. He replaced my grip with his. His fat fingers rubbed up and down on sincan escort the shaft of my hardening cock, slowly moving up to the head. His hand felt like a soft pillow, the bones insulated as he pressed harder and released, slowly stroking. “We might as well get something out of this, eh?” he said. I had realized now that his other hand had a vice grip on his own cock, pumping so wildly that I could hear the squishing of his fatpad. The deep purple of his dick head poked out sporadically through his fist and chunky foreskin. His balls were the size of a coconut, ready to be juiced. He was looking me in the eye. “Is this OK? Do you like this?” I was stunned, motionless, my shorts sliding down ever so slightly as he continued to jack my cock to rock-hard state. He shifted to face me, and me him. His mouth was agape, likely at the amount of precum spurting out of my dick, coating his hand and making his handiwork ever so slippery. I could smell the remnants of his deodorant, the fabric of his shirt wet with sweat as his ample girth pressed against my flat chest. “Oh my god,” I said, as I felt my cock tighten and prepare to spasm. He lifted his shirt to reveal a mammoth belly, decorated with tufts of brown hair and glistening with his own sweat. He pressed it into me. It didn’t take me much more. Huge strings of cum shot from my cock to the heights of his chest, outlining the valley between his tits and spurting small lakes of white on his belly fat. I could hardly keep my eyes open as my load spewed out of me, his fist squeezing the last of it from my slit. He rubbed it gently against his slick chest, exhaling in large swaths. He pulled back, my hard cock thudding back against my chest. I took a good look. “I bet you never seen balls like this, sonny,” he said, fondling the globes with his fingers. True. “How about you finish this off?” demetevler escort He placed his palm against the back of my head and gently guided it downward. I took the cue, dropping to one knee and bringing my face to his crotch. His small cock was a stiff rod, and I slid it into my mouth, the sweat of his foreskin salty on my tongue. He had to be about ready. I traced my index finger along the bottom of his giant balls. “Here it cums, here it cums,” he said under his breath, his hands on my shoulders. As the first shot of warm jizz hit my tongue, he lurched backward, catching his balance as his left foot hit the ground flat and hard, his hands removed from my shoulders and his palm now slapped against the wall. His mouth was agape again, surprise undeniable behind his sunglasses. Gobs of cum dripped to the floor like a river that had just started to unfreeze from his foreskin. He grabbed a wadded paper towel from his pocket and wiped the edge of his dick, his exposed belly still sticky with my huge load. “Wellll,” he whispered. I put my cock back in my shirts, turned to the sinks, and washed my hands. As I grabbed a towel, I turned to see him, still in the same position, one hand on the wall and the other on his hip, his cock having shrunk back behind his mountain of a ball sack, his head reared back as if he was silently asking himself, “What did I just do?” “You alright?” “Oh boy,” he said, catching his breath. “Am I ever.” I stepped outside, expecting my new friend to soon join me. As the mental image of his cum droplets oozing from his ball sack floorward began its residency in my head, I was startled. “Hi there,” she said politely, gently, and by account of the tone, oblivious. She was just over 5 feet tall, plump and pear-shaped, holding an empty water bottle in each hand as she sat on the stump seats outside the women’s restroom to greet me. I nodded, smiled, continued. “Hon, you just about done in there?” she said behind me, her voice slightly raised as she trudged to the men’s side. I caught the barely audible “yes” as I returned to trail, savoring the new taste in my mouth.

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