My First Time with a Man in a Park

For years I kept saying that my relationship was fine, and in almost every respect that was true. We understood each other, lived together without drama, and from the outside looked like a solid couple. The problem appeared when we closed the bedroom door. In there, everything became scarce, routine, and sometimes simply frustrating.

It wasn't that I was obsessed, but I did have a sexual hunger that kept building. I masturbated far more than I admitted, almost always in secret, and porn became an easy outlet. I started with the usual stuff, then began looking for things more specific, more intense, and eventually I found myself getting more turned on by cocks than by anything else.

That was what confused me most. Men, in general, didn't attract me as a romantic idea. I didn't fantasize about kissing them in the street or having a boyfriend. But seeing a good cock drove me crazy, made me hard instantly, even more than any heterosexual video.

For weeks I kept telling myself it was just a kink. Curiosity. A fetish. Something that could stay on my phone screen and in my hands beneath the sheets. But when a kink is fed every day, it eventually starts asking for more than imagination.

One afternoon, while I was home alone, I downloaded an app for talking to men. I told myself it was just to be curious, to see what people said in there, to get myself worked up for a while and that was all. I started replying to messages without really knowing how to handle the conversation. Some men moved too fast. Others made me embarrassed.

Until one different man appeared.

He called himself Iván, although that probably wasn't his real name either. He had a partner, little experience with men, and the same mixture of fear and desire I was carrying around. That disarmed me. I wasn't being messaged by someone who seemed to have the situation under control; I was talking to someone who wanted exactly what I wanted and who was also crossing a line.

We started talking every day. First cautiously, then in detail, and finally with a rawness that left my cock hard inside my trousers while I read. We talked about hands, mouths, cumshots, what we would do if we were alone. I replied with a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety. Sometimes I would turn off my phone, promising myself I wouldn't continue. An hour later I was writing to him again.

What finally broke me was the anticipation. Knowing that on the other side there was a man wanting exactly the same thing, describing how he would suck me, how he wanted me to grab his cock, how much the idea of doing it far from everything turned him on, with the fear that someone might appear. Those messages left me trembling.

When he suggested meeting, it took me several days to answer yes.

I lied at home. I said I had to take care of an errand after work and would be back later. As I said it, I felt a dull guilt, but beneath that guilt was an excitement so strong I could barely hide it. All the way to the meeting I alternated between thinking I was crazy and thinking that if I didn't do it that afternoon, I would go on dreaming about it for months.

We arranged to meet in a half-abandoned park between two towns, near a stretch of countryside where hardly anyone passed during the week. I arrived first. I parked far from the main path, got out of the car, and leaned against the door, pretending to be calm. In reality, my pulse was racing and my cock was beginning to swell just from thinking that in a few minutes I was going to watch another man take his out in front of me.

When I saw him arrive, I felt a blow to the stomach.

He wasn't spectacular or dressed up to impress. That was precisely what turned me on more. He was an ordinary adult man, discreet, with a few days' growth of beard, a tight T-shirt, and the same nervous expression I must have had. He parked, got out of the car, and stopped a few steps away, smiling awkwardly.

—I thought you were going to stand me up —he said.

—I thought about running away too —I admitted.

We laughed out of sheer tension. We talked for a couple of minutes about nonsense, just to get used to being there. The conversation didn't matter at all. We both looked too much, too quickly, and then looked away. I kept noticing his package. He kept noticing mine.

—If you want, we can take it slowly —he said, lowering his voice—. Nobody's forcing you to do anything.

I nodded. My mouth felt dry. I looked around: trees, a patch of dirt, a broken bench in the distance, and the silence of midafternoon. The air was cool, but I was hot inside.

—I don't even know how to start —I confessed.

He took another step toward me.

—We start by taking them out. That's all.

The directness with which he said it made me swallow. I leaned more firmly against the car, lowered my zipper, and pulled out my cock with a trembling hand. It was already very hard, completely stiff, the tip shining. He let out a low breath, as if he genuinely liked what he was seeing.

Then he did the same.

When he pulled his out, I understood why I had come there. It was a long, thick, heavy cock, already half-erect the moment it was freed from his trousers. He gripped it confidently and began stroking it slowly while looking at me. I stood frozen, fascinated. Seeing it in person was nothing like seeing one on a screen. It was real, less than a meter away, and I could smell sex, the clean sweat of the afternoon, the air brushing against our balls.

—Do you like it? —he asked.

The truth slipped out of me without a filter.

—Very much.

He barely smiled.

—I like the way you've got yours. Touch it. I want to watch you.

I started jerking off while looking at his cock. A lash of instant pleasure shot through me. The kink of being in the middle of nowhere, of doing something I had never done and wasn't supposed to do, had me on the verge of coming almost from the first minute. He masturbated calmly, letting the skin slide up and down the shaft while the head grew redder and redder.

—Come closer —he said.

I took two steps and we stood facing each other, trousers open, cocks out, breathing harder than normal. I could see his hand working up and down. I wanted so badly to touch it that my fingers hurt.

—Do you want to grab it?

—Yes.

—Then grab it.

I wrapped my hand around his cock, and it was like closing my fingers around something I had imagined for far too long. It was hot, truly hard, with weight to it. I began jerking him off awkwardly, testing the rhythm, feeling the skin move beneath my palm. He let out a brief moan and lowered a hand to my dick, imitating me. The exchange was immediate, brutal. My body responded as if it had been waiting years for that scene.

—Fuck —I murmured—. I didn't know this would turn me on so much.

—You can tell —he said, squeezing me a little harder.

The way he was jerking me off unraveled me. I kept his cock in my hand, growing more confident, but I could barely concentrate. He had enough experience to read my body. He stroked my balls, squeezed the base, varied the speed. Every time I watched his cock rise and fall between my fingers, I felt myself edging dangerously close to the brink.

—I'm going to come —I warned, embarrassed.

—Then come. Don't stop.

That finished me. I kept moving my hand over his cock while he sped up on mine, and I came suddenly. I let out a hoarse moan, lowered my head, and began emptying myself in spurts over my hand and belly. The orgasm made my knees buckle slightly. It had been a long time since I had come so violently. He didn't stop touching me until I finished trembling.

—Holy shit —he said through his teeth—. You really were horny.

I breathed deeply, embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

—Sorry. I didn't last at all.

—Sorry for what? —he replied—. Watching you come like that turned me on so much.

He looked at me with a mixture of hunger and patience.

—Now tell me the truth. Have you been wanting to eat it this whole time?

He didn't give me time to answer in words. I was already kneeling in front of him.

***

The first time I brought my face close to another man's cock, I felt a surge of nerves that tensed my entire body. It was right in front of me, completely hard, the tip wet, with a strong, clean, masculine smell that aroused me even more. I stuck out my tongue and licked it slowly, tasting the flavor, the texture, the reality of it.

He let out a sudden breath.

—Fuck... like that.

I kept licking from the base to the tip, slowly, as if I didn't want to miss anything. I closed my lips around the head and began sucking carefully. At first I was clumsy, but my desire made up for any lack of technique. I wanted to feel all of it in my mouth; I wanted to know why the idea had driven me crazy for so long.

And as soon as I took more and more of it in, I understood.

Feeling his cock filling my mouth, heavy on my tongue, brushing my palate, got me hard all over again. He gently grabbed my hair, not to force me, but to accompany the rhythm. I moved my head up and down, alternating deep sucks with licks at the tip and wet kisses along the shaft. I took my time. I wanted to enjoy it.

—You're a fucking wonder for your first time —he said, his voice already breaking.

That turned me on even more. I hugged his thighs and kept sucking him, more confidently now, letting saliva run down the base and wet my lips. Every so often I pulled it almost all the way out just to look at it, shining and hard, then sank it back in as far as I could. I felt his breathing quicken. His legs tensed every time I swallowed a little deeper.

Although I had come not long before, my cock was already stiff again. It hung between my legs, hard and sensitive, throbbing just from the pleasure of sucking. The air outside hit my balls and intensified the kink savagely. I was in a lost park, on my knees before another man, with a cock in my mouth, and I didn't want to be anywhere else.

—I'm going to warn you —he said—. If I keep going like this, I'm going to come.

I looked up at him with my mouth still around the tip and kept sucking. I didn't want him to pull away. I didn't want him to slow down. I had fantasized about that moment too many times to stop right then.

He understood my answer.

I started moving faster. I jerked the base while sucking the upper part, alternating strong sucks with long strokes of my tongue along the frenulum. His moans became dirtier, more open. He swore through his teeth. He asked me for more. He called me a bastard with a pleasure-shattered smile.

—I'm coming, I'm really coming —he warned.

I pulled his cock from my mouth for a second, breathed, and put it back in as far as I could. I wanted to feel the beginning. I wanted to earn it. He barely thrust his hips and came with a long moan, shooting hotly over my tongue and into my mouth. I swallowed some by reflex; the rest escaped at the corner of my mouth and dripped onto my chin. He kept coming for several more seconds, spattering my face, neck, and part of my chest.

The taste, temperature, and violence of his orgasm went through me. I felt brutal pressure in my cock and, barely touching myself, came for the second time. Semen leapt onto my belly and the hand still holding the base of his cock. I stayed there, panting, my mouth half full and my face sticky, unable to believe what I had just done.

He looked at me as if he couldn't quite believe it either.

—You're fucking kidding me... did you come again?

I swallowed what was left in my mouth and nodded, still on my knees.

—Yes. That had never happened to me before.

He helped me to my feet. He had the smile of someone completely satisfied, but also a look of disbelief much like my own. We cleaned ourselves as best we could with tissues and with what little dignity remains after a scene like that. I thought maybe it would end there, that our first encounter had already given me enough to remember for the rest of my life.

I was wrong.

He looked at my cock again, which was beginning to harden once more.

—I'm not leaving without trying it myself —he said.

I felt my legs tremble.

—After coming twice, you can still do it?

I looked at my dick rising slowly, responding on its own to that voice, that setting, that promise.

—Looks like I can.

***

He pressed me back against the car and crouched in front of me. Watching a man kneel to suck me after everything we had just done turned me on in a completely new way. I had fantasized about cocks, mouths, cumshots, but not the exact image of another adult man willing to give me pleasure with such concentration. And when he opened his mouth and ran his tongue over the tip, my toes curled inside my sneakers.

—Fuck —I blurted, putting one hand on the roof of the car.

He didn't answer. He kept working. He licked my tip, my shaft, the vein underneath, then swallowed several centimeters in one sudden movement before drawing it out slowly, leaving it coated in saliva. His technique had nothing to do with my earlier clumsiness. He knew exactly how hard to press with his lips and how to move his tongue so that every suck traveled up my spine.

I was already rock-hard again. Painfully hard.

He spread my legs a little and stroked my balls while sucking me, combining his mouth with his hand. Every time he took more of my cock into his mouth, I had to resist the impulse to thrust into him. Being outdoors intensified everything. We heard every distant noise. A car passed far away along the path, and we both froze for a few seconds, my cock still between his lips, my heart racing.

When the sound disappeared, he smiled against my dick.

—That turns you on too, doesn't it?

—Very much.

—I can feel how it throbs.

He put it back in his mouth, deeper this time. The sensation pulled a filthy moan from me. I grabbed his hair carefully, just to keep my balance. He moved his head up and down in a steady rhythm, and every so often looked up at me from below, as if he enjoyed watching me come undone. It was humiliating in the best possible way: being there, surrendered, letting another man milk me with his mouth in the middle of a place where I shouldn't have been.

—I'm going to come again like this —I warned him.

He pulled my cock out, kissed the tip, and said:

—That's exactly what I want.

Then he went back to sucking with more hunger. He swallowed as much as he could, jerked the base, squeezed my balls, and every time I tried to catch my breath, finished me with a slow lick over the glans. It didn't take long for me to feel that brutal pressure in my groin again. There was no way to hold out with the mixture of kink, guilt, cool air, and the skill of that mouth.

—I'm coming, I'm coming now —I said through my teeth.

He didn't pull away.

On the contrary, he took more of me into his mouth and spoke with my cock still between his lips.

—Come inside. Fill my mouth.

That command broke me. I felt my whole body tense and began coming with almost animal violence. He kept his mouth sealed around the tip, swallowing what he could while I shot in spurts. I felt my cock emptying again and again, spasmodic, endless. When he finally pulled it out, semen was still dripping from his lower lip. He wiped it away with his thumb and smiled with satisfaction.

I remained leaning against the car, trembling and without strength.

—Three times —he murmured—. Not bad for a first date.

I laughed, still panting.

—I don't even know how I'm still standing.

—Because you've needed this for a long time.

I didn't know what to say. The sentence hit me because it was true.

We took a few minutes to pull ourselves together. The silence was no longer awkward. There was a strange, intimate, immediate trust between us, born from having watched each other come without hiding, from having tasted each other with an honesty I hadn't even had with myself. We talked about how intense it had been, how absurd it was that we had understood each other so quickly, and how much it had helped that we had both been honest about the kink.

He told me the blowjob had been one of the best he had ever received. I confessed that no one had ever sucked me like that, that I couldn't remember having three orgasms in a single afternoon, and that I could hardly believe my first time with a man had been so wild. We looked at each other with the complicity of people who knew they had just crossed a serious boundary.

Before we left, he touched my arm.

—If you want to do it again, you know where to find me.

I nodded, but didn't promise anything.

***

The drive home was very different from the drive there. I was no longer consumed by anticipation, but by an uncomfortable mixture of satisfied pleasure and guilt. I could still smell him on my fingers. My skin felt sensitive, my balls empty, my head full of images I knew would stay with me for a long time. And alongside all that was the weight of having cheated on my partner.

I didn't regret what I had done with him. It would be a lie to say that. What troubled me was having done it through lies, hiding, using an excuse to live something I desired. That was the difficult part to swallow when I got home and acted normally.

Even so, no matter how guilty I felt, I can't deny that it was one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life. Not only because of the kink of doing it with a man, but because I discovered a part of myself that had been pounding from within for years. I had spent half my life telling myself that certain fantasies could remain fantasies. That afternoon I learned that when they become too insistent, they eventually find a way out.

I kept talking to him for a while. He suggested meeting again, and more than once I was tempted. All it took was remembering his cock in my mouth or the way he ordered me to come for me to get hard again. But I also remembered my partner's face, the lie, the knot in my chest when I returned home.

So I left it there.

I told him it had been incredible, that I would never forget it, and that precisely because of that, we shouldn't repeat it. He understood better than I expected. He didn't insist much. Perhaps because he knew, just as I did, that what we had experienced had been real and enough to remain etched in us even if there was never a second time.

I don't know whether that defined my orientation, and I don't even know if I need to put a label on it. The only thing I know for sure is that cocks turn me on tremendously, and that afternoon I stopped imagining and confirmed it with my own mouth, hands, and entire body. I went to that park thinking I was only going to get rid of a question. I left with three orgasms under my belt, the memory of a brutal blowjob, and a certainty I can no longer deny.

Some things a kink awakens never go completely back to sleep.