Joggered

"Open to me. Open to Daddy."

And I spread my legs for him.

Before that, he had pushed me back gently onto the thick carpet on the moss covering the little sun-spackled glen. He had me kneel before him and take his beautiful, huge cock into my mouth, where I worked it up to over nine inches of hardness to the sounds of the birds twittering in the trees and the other jogger emitting little sighs and moans of pleasure.

It had been that big, beautiful cock that had melted my defenses and inhibitions and that opened me to him. I had been jogging the wooded river trail three days a week for several months, drawn there by the need to release tensions from my graduate school studies, by the waterside park's beauty and isolation, and by ever seeking to lose that last pound and bring pure definition to that last muscle. I was usually all alone out on the trail in the early afternoon. But in the previous week my schedule had coincided with that of another jogger, someone who also attended the same gym I did. We had never spoken to each other, but he had always had a ready smile for me, and I always took pleasure in seeing him work out. His body was the one that I sought. He was nearly two decades older than I was, probably pushing forty-five hard, and was graying at the temples already. But he was handsome and had a body to die for.

I have no idea how we wound up on the same jogging trail at the same time, but one day, there he was. We'd pass each other going and coming from the two ends of the trail, and he'd give me that wondrous, mature, experienced man-of-the-world smile, which I would return with a smile of my own and a wave of my hand.

Then on the fourth day that our runs overlapped, he made his move. At the half-way mark in the three-mile jogging course, a sturdy wooden picnic bench was positioned right beside the trail where joggers could take a rest. As I ran the trail the first time that day, he was sprawled out on the picnic table, cooling down from his run. He'd taken off his T, and his perfectly cut torso muscles glistened in the sun. We exchanged our customary smiles. When I jogged back on the return stretch, he was still sprawled on the top of the table, his feet up on the bench toward the trail, but now he was fully naked. I stopped dead in my tracks, as surely he intended me to, and his eyes willed mine to go to his pelvis, which I couldn't have avoided doing even if I'd really wanted to. There, dangling between his legs, was a magnificent long, thick cock, half hard and uncut. I gasped, and he smiled and pointed his hands at his manhood, making me an offer. But I was too shocked to respond. I just smiled weakly at him, resumed my jog, and quickly got in my car and drove off when I'd reached the parking lot.

If I wasn't tempted—at least subconsciously—I would have changed my jogging trail—or at least have changed my running schedule. But I didn't. The next day of my normal routine, I was back on the jogging trail, doing my regular run. It was my routine to stop at the picnic table in the middle of my return run and to use the picnic table to do some stretches.

I was doing a leg stretch with my right heel on the rim of the table, when the jogger came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. One of his hands went up under my T-shirt and latched onto one of my nipples, while the other palmed across my naked belly for a moment, savoring my intake of breath and trembling, and then moved on down to cover my basket, tracing my engorging cock through the fabric of my running shorts. His pelvis was pushed into my butt and I could feel the power and urgency of his manhood. His lips went to the side of my neck.

I should have said something, made some countermove, pushed him away and run off. But I did none of these things. I just threw my head back and enjoyed what this rock-solid, experienced older man was doing to my body, arousing my senses, making me very, very horny in a very, very short time. These were all new sensations to me; I'd never done this before.

I turned my face toward his, and we went into a long, wet kiss. I could feel the tension draining out of my body, and so could he. He could sense me becoming compliant to his wishes and needs, bowing to his confidence and domination. The hand at my basket withdrew, and he must have pulled his shorts down in front, because I suddenly could feel his ram rod coming up between my thighs, and he began dry humping me between my butt cheeks. The hand came back, but this time, it went beneath my waistband and encircled my cock, bringing me to life there.

We disengaged from the kiss, and I found my voice at last. "No, we shouldn't. Someone could come along and find us. And I've never . . . with one that big," I croaked.

The jogger's response was to virtually frog march me back behind the table, through a wooded area, and to a small glen carpeted with moss. He gently pushed me down on my knees in front of him, stepped out of his shorts, and rubbed his cock against my closed lips. His foreskin was pulled slightly back from his huge cock helmet, and I could see a small dab of precum on his piss slit.

I opened my lips slightly to him, and he opened them wider by pushing the helmet of his cock into my mouth. I used the inside edge of my lips to push his foreskin back behind the rim of his helmet, and he grunted for me in pleasure, putting his hands on my head and helping me to work his dick into my mouth. I let my cheeks glide down the sides of his cock, taking him a bit farther into me with each slow stroke. It was very awkward at first and I did a lot of gagging, but I soon got some sense of the technique and rhythm. His cock moistly encased, I cupped his well-rounded butt cheeks in my hands, and we became an efficient face-fucking machine.

The stroking picked up in rhythm, and I was having increasing difficulty accommodating his length at the back of my throat. Before he became fully engorged, however, I had deep throated him to the point where my lips were being tickled by his pubic hair, and I just held there for a long moment, while the jogger trembled and groaned his approval. When he was fully engorged, however, there no longer was any hope of deep-throating him, and I took him at the root in one hand and ran my tongue up and down the sides of his cock, tracing bulging veins, while the other hand rolled and pulled at his low-hanging ball sack. I alternated the side tonguing with brief passes of my tongue over his piss slit to collect the precum bubbling up there and an occasional intake of the upper half of his cock into my mouth and vigorous stroking that slid his loose cock skin up and down.

When the jogger couldn't take this anymore, he pulled my T-shirt off and gently pushed me onto my back in front of him onto the moss. He pulled my shorts off and threw them to the side and stood there, hovering over me, his smiling face peering at me above the gigantic battering ram of his. I smiled back weakly, both fearing and anxious for what was likely to come.

"Open to me. Open to Daddy."

And I spread my legs for him. I was his. He came down on his knees between my legs and started running his hands over my torso, belly, and thighs. He was murmuring to me. "Sweet boy; Such a sweet boy. Daddy's going to be good to you."

One of his hands went to my cock and encircled it and began to gently stroke it. My cock answered by quickly engorging.

"Ahh, sweet cock; big, luscious cock," the jogger whispered, and I saw his head dip down and felt his lips part over my cock and travel on down to my root. I felt warm and wet down there, and I lurched and gasped as his soft mouth ran up and down my cock. After a while, my cock came out of his mouth and he encircled my dick with his hand and gently squeezed and stroked it as his tongue went to my balls. I felt my balls, in turn, drawn into his mouth with a sucking sound and sensation, and I moaned and sighed my pleasure.

I turned my head and took in all of the life of nature around me, as I enjoyed being sucked off and used my hands to travel up and down my own torso and to pinch and pull at my nipples. My hands were pushed aside by the jogger's tongue, though, as he moved his head up to my chest and tongued my torso and nipples, slowly working his way down to my belly and navel and then back to my cock very briefly.

This time when his mouth left my cock, though, he said in a very hoarse voice, "Open your legs wider. Open to me."

I lifted my legs and opened them as wide as I could, holding them open with hands under thighs. His lips and tongue went to my asshole now, and he was wetting me down there and opening me up. At length his tongue was joined—and then replaced—first with one finger and then with more. They were going deeper and deeper, and pushing my canal walls apart more and more. The pad of a finger found my prostate, and I trembled and grunted, as I felt the precum bubble up and over in my cock. I had never felt such sexual pleasure before.

"It's time. It's time for Daddy to do his little boy."

"No," I whimpered, remembering the size of that cock of his.

"You want me to stop right now?" the jogger asked in a low voice. "You want me to just get up and walk away right now?"

"Yes . . . No. Oh, no. Do it, but slowly, please. I don't know if I can . . ."

"Well, I know I can," the jogger answered. And then the three fingers in my ass passage spread the opening wide, and that bulbous helmet of his cock was at my asshole, rotating around and sinking deeper in the space widened by the fingers, with each revolution. I cried out in pain, and he stopped momentarily, waiting for me to open further to him. And as I did, his fingers retracted and his cock, alone now, pushed in deeper and deeper. Until eventually he was all the way in, and I was gasping for breath, sausage stuffed to the very edge of my endurance.

"There, you see that you can, don't you? Oh, that's nice," he whispered to me, "Such a nice, tight ass. I could hold it in this sweet ass forever." Although there still was pain, it now was being mostly masked with the pleasure of being filled with that big, beautiful cock.

The jogger started to pump me deep in short, slow strokes. He took my legs in his own hands, as I was trembling too much to keep them spread myself, and stroked away inside me. I felt his loose foreskin sliding up and down my ass canal, giving me added pleasure—a loose membrane working back and forth over a thick, long, solid rod. His knees must have gotten tired, because, after a short time he pulled out of me and told me to come up on my hands and feet and turn my back to him, and he entered me from behind, and unrolled that long, thick hose of his to the very center of me. Now he was taking longer and quicker strokes, and I was widening to accommodate him to the point where all I felt was the pleasure of being fucked deep and fully. He reached a depth I'd never yielded before, and he tarried there, his dick motionless in stroking but throbbing in a rhythm that matched the throbbing of my heart. His hands went to my pecs, and he pulled my torso up to his chest. I turned my face to his, and we engaged in another long, wet, tongue-probing kiss as he held his dick still, deep, throbbing inside me. One of his hands went to my cock, and he stroked me off. My ejaculate arched out over the green moss in front of us.

He pulled me down to the ground after that, not losing purchase of his cock up my ass, and gently side-split me, one hand holding one of my legs up in the air to allow a close fit of his groin against my butt and the other hand wandering all over my body. He came deep inside me with three separate floods of warm, lubricating semen, and then we just lay there, drowsily listening to the wind in the trees and the birds on the fly.

I slept, and when I awoke he was gone. I lay there for several minutes, savoring the totally fulfilling fuck, calculating when my next scheduled jog was, and wondering if the jogger, that amazingly experienced daddy, would return then as well.