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(also known as horny_dad or lexxjld on some sites)

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Stuttgart in Germany has several underground shopping centres, built as part of their metro system. Thoughtfully, they’ve also provided public toilets, some ideal for cottaging.

One such is on the outside of an underground section, the entrance door facing the castle park — excellent for just lazing on the grass watching the world of men come (hopefully cum) and go. Just after dusk the castle park is an excellent place to take your latest conquest behind a tree and do what comes naturally.

There are people around, but it’s too dark for them to see what’s going on just yards away from them. Anyone aware of such things might be alerted by the occasional groan or “Oh fuck” (in several languages), but the general public isn’t usually aware.

This is the first tale of encounters in that cottage and park.

===

I was on my way back to my hotel, at the far end of the park, and just happened to drop in to the cottage … to see what might be available. It was almost nightfall, and very quiet, so I didn’t hold out much hope of getting any action. The urinal is metal, with no partitions, in a U shape. I stood myself at a corner where I could see the door and waited hopefully, with a half-hard-on. And waited, and waited.

Patience is a virtue, and virtue brings its own reward (they say). And, on this occasion, so it did. A lanky black man came in, looked round and saw me (I’d more or less hidden my cock with my hand) and took up position halfway along one side of the U, closer than most straight men would stand. He pulled out his cock and pissed, looking down at his cock so that I had a chance to stare sideways at it. A nice long floppy dusky hosepipe with a bunched foreskin.

He shook, but continued to stand there — it doesn’t take long to make it clear that you’re not just there for a piss — and I stared more openly as his cock swelled and lifted. Soon he glanced over at me (by this time my cock was fully erect and jutting out fiercely) and he seemed to like what he saw. He grinned, and tucked himself (with some difficulty) into his trousers and walked outside.

I quickly made the decision that he’d definitely been interested, so I wedged my hard-on across my thigh and followed him. He hadn’t gone far — just away from the lights near the shadow of some trees, and he was looking back at me. Casually I wandered towards him; he stepped completely into the shadow, and as I reached him and my eyes became used to the gloom I saw that he had his cock out and was stroking it gently.

Dropping to my knees I slid his still half-hard erection down my throat until the musky smell of his crinkly pubic hair was right under my nose. He groaned softly, but then said with an American accent, “Not here. You gotta place to go?”

“My hotel is at the other end of the park,” I replied, standing up and adjusting my own erection, which by this time was agonizingly uncomfortable.

“OK, let’s go.”

As we wandered across the park he told me that he was a US serviceman on leave for the weekend, and that he’d had no sex action for nearly a week. I drooled.

Luckily, I had my own key to the outer door of the hotel, so we were able to go in unobserved. Up to my room, in, and lock the door. We both quickly stripped and he lay down on the bed. Kneeling between his legs I sniffed at the strong musky odour of his crotch — a great turn-on. Again I slid his half-hard cock into my mouth and throat until I gagged slightly, which made him groan as my throat muscles massaged him.

Despite my best ministrations, I couldn’t get him any harder (and never did, all the time he was there). My arse winked with disappointment, as I knew I could never get a half-hard cock into my tight hole. So I just continued sucking him, holding his big balls pulled away from his groin, enjoying the taste of his copious pre-cum and the fantastic sexy smell of his body.

Just as I was going to suggest that he move down the bed so that we could 69, he started to thrust his hips up rapidly, a long stifled moan came from him, and he absolutely filled my mouth with tangy cum. “Damn,” I thought, “that’s the end of his interest in this evening’s fun!” When he finished coming, which he did in one long stream, not in separate spurts, I backed my mouth off his cock and swallowed the huge load. Very tasty, thick and satisfying.

I lay down beside him, assuming that he’d get up and dress and leave, but he rolled over towards me and grabbed my erection, which by this time was leaking pre-cum like a waterfall. He rubbed the fluid over the head of my cock, which very nearly made me come, and kissed me, tasting the residue of his own cum.

“Gotta condom?” (A man of very few words.)

“In the bedside table drawer.”

He tore open a condom packet and rolled the rubber on to my rigid cock, then bent down and slurped the whole thing into his mouth, dribbling spit everywhere. I was nearly hysterical with lust by this stage, Manavgat Escort and hoped he wasn’t just going to suck me off into the condom (an extremely unsatisfying feeling!) But no, he squatted over me (facing me), located the head of my cock at his hole, and slid straight down until he was sitting on my hips.

Both of us groaned slightly at the hot full stuffed feeling, then he grabbed my nipples and started to do squat-thrusts. American military training is extremely good for one’s sex life, I decided, as he continued doing this long after my muscles would have cramped up. I held on to his cock, still slippery with the remnants of his cum, and it returned to that firm but floppy state that seemed to be the limit of his erection.

I couldn’t move much, as he sat down on my hips each time he bottomed out, but he was doing such a good job I didn’t need to move at all. My mind and body just fused into a gigantic cum-machine, waiting for the trigger to make it explode. After a good ten minutes of this action, he reached behind him and squeezed my balls, just as he was at the bottom of his thrust. A feeling that I at first thought was pain, then a throbbing urgency, then a set of wild spasms, and then I came.

Oh god, how I came! And so did he — out of that hosepipe of a cock sprayed another vast load of creamy cum. His arse tightened round my cock as he came, and I came again! I pulled the pillow over my face to stifle my scream (I’m a very noisy cummer!) and we both panted with the exertion.

He pulled off me, took off the condom, emptied it on my chest, and lay down on me, belly to belly, chest to chest, squishing his cum and mine between us. The wonderful bleachy smell was almost overpowering, and we kissed frantically as our heartbeats returned to normal.

It would have been nice to have a sleep and then do it all again, but sadly he had to leave. I offered him a shower, but he wanted to keep the spunk on him as a memory of a fantastic encounter. As he left we had a kiss and a hug, and I collapsed back on the bed, smearing the remnants of our cum-loads off my belly and chest and then licking my hand clean.

The following day I didn’t wash it off, and all the time I was shopping I could smell, rising from inside my shirt, that wonderful sexy odour. I was half-hard all day.

===

Whipped Cream: Two

It was quite late. I’d had a good dinner and some beer with friends from the conference I was attending, and was walking back through the pedestrian underpass towards the park and my hotel. I needed to piss anyway, and I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to check out the action, so I popped into the cottage which faces the park.

To my disappointment, nobody else was there. I pissed and then stood with a half-hardon showing, hoping for some action. After a few minutes an old man came in, mumbling to himself, had a piss all over his shoes, and went out again.

Then a man came in who made my cock firm right up immediately: about 6 feet tall, big but not fat, extremely dark-skinned with fantastic hairy forearms, and an interesting face with a big slightly hooked nose and deep brown eyes. He stood so close to me in the (quite large) urinal area that I knew he must be looking for cock, just like me, so I didn’t bother to hide myself or hide my interest in him. And what a cock came out of those trousers! About 7.5″, straight, fully erect, and extremely thick. My mouth watered.

But just as I was about to move towards him and take hold of his cock he tucked it away and went out. Damn! I quickly zipped up and followed him outside. He headed towards a semi-circular seating area surrounded by dark bushes; the lights outside the cottage hardly illuminated this far, so it was quite a good place to meet. Anyone coming towards us would be in the lit area and we would see them long before they saw us.

He sat on the back of a bench with his cock drooping out of his fly. I knelt on the seat in front of him and sucked him right in. Soon I realised that I couldn’t possibly take all of him in my mouth once he was fully erect, which happened very quickly. His cut cock oozed huge amounts of pre-cum that tasted of exotic spices, and I lapped it up eagerly. After a while my jaw was getting tired, so I pulled off him and sat down.

Sitting next to me he tried to speak to me in German. I quickly realised that his German was even worse than mine, and this wasn’t going to get us far. “Which country are you from?” I asked, in German. “Maroc,” he replied. Ah, Morocco, so I switched to French, assuming (correctly) that he would speak quite good French. We had a short chat, but soon it was down to business again.

He knelt in front of me and pulled down my trousers and underwear. He licked and then sucked my cock, but not with any great enthusiasm or skill. Then he raised my legs and started rimming me with a hard wet tongue. This was delicious and made me extremely horny, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he tried to fuck me with Manavgat Escort Bayan that monster. Much as I enjoy being fucked, his cock was just too thick for it to be anything other than agony for me, and probably not very satisfying for him, either.

I explained that he was too big to fuck me; he looked disappointed, but contented himself with sliding two fingers inside me while continuing to suck. By this time I was ragingly horny, and I asked him if I could fuck him. “Non, non!” he exclaimed, “Jamais [never].” Pity, his cheeks were solid and muscular, and it would have been a lovely tight fuck.

He stood in front of me and fed me as much of his cock as would fit, thrusting it in and out just a little. I slid my tongue along the underside of his meaty frenum, which created little spurts of delicious pre-cum, and his cock got even harder and thicker. I could tell that he wasn’t going to last long.

After another few minutes of this, he grabbed hold of my ears and started thrusting more forcefully. Three strokes and he grunted, then yelled, as five hefty spurts of cum shot into my mouth so quickly that I didn’t have time to swallow between them. As he withdrew his still-leaking cock I swallowed quickly and then licked his cockhead to get the residue.

I looked down at my own cock, hoping he would get me off, too, but he just grabbed my nipples and watched as I wanked myself just a few times before shooting cum up into the air. Fantastic orgasm. I sat for a moment to recover, then stood up and went to hug and kiss him, but he pulled away. (A lot of Arabs will not hug or kiss or be fucked.)

We made an arrangement to meet in the same place the following night, but he didn’t turn up. However, what happened instead was worth waiting for …

===

Whipped Cream: 3

I was frustrated — seriously frustrated. Even my legendary patience waiting for something to happen at the Stuttgart cottage was becoming exhausted. It was early evening on a Thursday, and I was hoping for some horny men to finish doing whatever shoppers enjoy doing in shops, and come and satisfy me. I hadn’t even had a solitary wank for 2 days (almost a record for me!)

The tree against which I’d been leaning to observe the (in) action was gnarled, scratchy, and uncomfortable. Few men had even entered the toilet; none had stayed long enough to be searching for the same thing as me — spunky cock.

Ah hah! At last! Now who’s this …? So blond that he must be Scandinavian, a fringe of beard on a beautiful suntanned face, red and black plaid shirt, and tight jeans. He came nearer along the path: tight, *tight* jeans, no underwear, cock straining the material down his left leg, and when he turned to go into the cottage such a wonderful taut bum was displayed that I felt precum spurt into my own jeans. Please, god, let him be gay. Please, god, let him be cruising. Please, *please*, god, let him fancy me.

I rushed towards the door — as fast as one *can* rush with an erection that threatens to tear its way out its confinement. He was still there, halfway along the curved stainless steel urinal. I resisted the urge (barely) to sidle up behind him and cup his buns in my hands, and settled for a position at the urinal that didn’t quite overlap his personal space.

And I ogled him shamelessly. If he was straight and offended let’s just hope that he would zip up and leave, rather than using violence against this outrageous lecher (me!). I’m not a small man, but he was a good three inches taller than me, heavier and fitter, and if he hit me I’d go down like a log — well, a log with a branch sticking up.

He didn’t zip up; he didn’t leave; he didn’t hit me; he didn’t even look at me. But, yes! He was plainly cruising — that cock was now so erect that he couldn’t possibly get it back inside his jeans. Not such a huge cock, about six inches, but straight and smooth with creamy skin and a big fold of foreskin pulled back from his cockhead. A very good mouthful, my mouth told me as it produced enough saliva to suck off an elephant.

It was about now that I realised that I hadn’t even taken my cock out, not even to pretend to piss. I wrestled my mean monster (six and a half inches, uncut with a short foreskin and a big fat plum head) out of its prison. This took some time and not a little pain, as I had to bend it to get it through my fly. He looked on in amusement. Yes! He looked!! And his cock throbbed up and down a few times. Yes! He’s interested!!

I stood there, my crotch thrust forwards, just holding the base of my cock. If I’d even touched the head I’d have come all over the place. Dangerously close to losing it, I breathed deeply and waited for the urgent spasm of lust to subside. Precum dripped from my slit, then turned into a single column of drool that almost reached the floor. I longed to gather it up on a finger and savour it. I longed for my Norse god to gather it up on *his* finger and savour it. Even more I longed for him to wrap his sensual lips Escort Manavgat round my cock and siphon up anything I had to give.

He turned towards me slightly, and I could see that his balls were out of his fly, too. Smooth skin, just a hint of blond pubic hair, eminently lickable. From somewhere my mouth found more saliva. Frankly, I drooled, from both mouth and cock. He began to slide his fingers up and down his cockshaft. Now he was leaking precum, too. I imagined the taste of his cock and precum, and nearly came on the spot. Brazenly I turned to face him, the shimmering rope of precum swinging below my impossibly hard cock. He licked his lips, and I nearly came on the spot.

Shit! Fuck!! Someone else coming in. I hastily turned back towards the urinal. A man with a kid. Blondie and I both attempted to hide our erections with a strategically placed hand. The kid pissed with his father’s help, then was taken to wash his hands. The hand dryer breathed lukewarm air. Drying his hands took forever. ‘Hurry up, piss off, fuck off,’ my mind clamoured as the man spent whole minutes rearranging the way his son’s shirt was tucked in. But at least they hadn’t looked at us and wondered why we were both standing there with strained expressions on our faces and our hands in a funny position.

At last, at *last*, they left. We hastily turned towards each other, ready to get down to business. Oh no! Another interruption!! We resumed our strange stance. An old man shuffled in, took a quarter of an hour to undo each button (‘for fuck’s sake, get a zip!’) and pissed briefly, then took more aeons to do up his trousers again. At least he didn’t stop to wash his hands — we’d both have turned into fossils before he’d finished!

He wandered out. Just as we reached for each other’s cocks the door opened again. I couldn’t believe our bad luck. This time the Scandinavian shook his head regretfully, and did a curious motion pushing his bum out at the back in order to make enough room to force his erection back inside his jeans. He waddled out, clearly in some pain.

The new arrival was a youngster. I thought at first he was a schoolboy, but as he walked to the far end of the urinal I realised that he was at least twenty, just very slightly built and with no facial hair. Because of the curve of the urinal, I couldn’t see him without actually turning round, so I just stood there, achingly erect, waiting for him to finish pissing. No sound of pissing. Hmmm. I risked a glance over my shoulder. He was standing with his back to me, somewhat hunched over, but there was no sign of wanking action.

Minutes passed. Still no sound of pissing. Surely he must be cruising? I turned right round and pointed my loaded weapon at his back, willing him to turn round. And he did! God is definitely a woman, and she has a sense of humour. Never in my life had I seen such a mismatch as between the lad’s slight frame and his magnificent cock. I gasped. I drooled some more. My asshole twitched, imagining that monster sliding in. I nearly came on the spot. I begged for someone to produce a dildo with those exact dimensions.

He grinned (probably amused by the look of crazed lust on this drooling idiot!) and took a step forward. He started a slow wanking action, just moving the loose skin backwards and forwards on his shaft, making his cockhead peek out of his foreskin at each stroke. His eyes rolled upwards, his head leaned back, he was going to come! I had to have it!! I took two steps towards him …

… and the door opened again. That god woman has an *evil* sense of humour. I went back to my original position, cursing internally like a mute with Tourette’s Syndrome. The new man stood between us, pissed like a horse, shook, tucked in, zipped up, and left.

Quickly I turned back to my young friend. It was too late! He had his back to me, but I could clearly see the involuntary thrusts of his bum as he reached his climax. Now, imagine one of those pressurized cans of spray cream. Imagine emptying the whole can onto the edge of the urinal. That was his orgasm. He shook and grunted as if he were having a seizure, and the spunk just poured out in jets and ropes and swirls, stark white against the steel surface.

Half of my mind was screaming, ‘What a waste!!’ The other, more rational half was saying, ‘That would seriously drown you!!’ I contemplated the effect of drowning in so much spunk, slurping and swallowing as much as possible before the remainder filled my mouth, throat, and nose.

The lad forced his erection back inside his jeans and stumbled past me, giving me a regretful half-smile as he went out. I rushed over and stood above his outpouring. That heavenly smell made my nostrils tingle. I still couldn’t believe how much he had come. Never before or since have I seen so much cum in one place. If I hadn’t been so fastidious I’d have scooped some up and used it as lube on my own erection.

I collected as much of my own precum as I could and just wiped my hand over my cockhead twice. I came so hard that it made my head hurt, and I shouted. Normally my cum oozes out in thick globs all over my cockhead and hand. This time, the first three spurts shot out like rubber bullets and splattered on the back of the urinal. The rest joined the huge pile of whipped cream on the floor.

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