Graffiti

Tom Clarkson sat on a picnic table in Delph Municipal Park—ass on the tabletop, feet on the bench seat, elbows on knees, and chin in his hands. The sun shone on his brown hair that was streaked with blond. A look he’d achieved by combing lemon juice into his hair and lying in the sun. He wore sunglasses, a black sleeveless tee, ragged cut off jeans and flip-flops. In his ears were stainless steel spear point earrings and he wore a steel chain necklace. He knew he was handsome to a fault and if he had been in California instead of the Midwest, he would have been taken for a model or a movie star. Tom wasn’t in the park to work on his dark tan in the warm late spring sunshine. He was there for another reason: sex.

Tom checked his watch: five to ten. He raised his head and looked around—nothing. No cars, no people. He sighed and leaned back on his hands.

It’s Monday, he thought. Nothing much goes on here on a Monday morning. Not this early anyway. ’Sides, the message said Monday at ten. Not quite that yet.

He’d seen a message on the wall of a stall in the public restroom when he’d cruised the place the previous weekend. It was new. And Tom was always up for new contacts, new experiences with new faces, new bodies to enjoy sexually. He went back to waiting.

At exactly ten o’clock a four-door, late model Studebaker sedan drove into the lot. Tom sat up straight and checked it out. The front door opened and an elderly man got out.

“Shit,” Tom murmured under his breath. He wasn’t opposed to sex with older men, but this guy looked like he might not make it through the summer. I ain’t into necrophilia.That was just a bit too kinky, even for him.

The man looked over to where Tom was sitting and waved. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Tom waved back and called out, “Yeah it is.” But he didn’t get up.

The man opened the back door of his car, and to Tom’s relief, two small, fluffy dogs leaped out, excitedly jumping on their master as he tried to retrieve their leashes.

“Easy there, Sarah, calm down, Sammy. We’re here like Daddy promised.”

Tom smiled as the man and his ‘kids’ took the path to the right and disappeared into the trees.

Good, Tom mused. That path goes all around the lake. If the guy who wrote the message ever gets here we’ll head that way. The dogs’ll be long gone by then.

Tom smiled, remembering the time a couple years earlier when he’d been fucking the brains out of some kid and had suddenly felt something wet and cold goose his ass. A big golden retriever had come up behind him and stuck his nose in his crack. Had scared the hell out of him. Tom and the guy he was screwing had barely got their pants up before a man and woman rounded the corner and called to the dog. They had looked suspiciously at the two shirtless men standing together in the small clearing, trying to appear casual, as if they were studying the flora of the park.

Tom’s thoughts were interrupted when a big Lincoln Town Car crept into the lot and pulled up right in front of the table on which he was sitting.

Tom couldn’t see into the car because the sun’s reflection glinted off the windshield. Nevertheless, his instincts told him this was the author of the note, so he started his seduction. He leaned back on the table and raised his head to the sun as if he were just catching some rays. At the same time, he spread his legs so his ample package was displayed through his tight shorts.

The door opened and a man stepped out. He was tall, wore sunglasses and had on a white shirt and dress pants.

Professional guy or businessman, Tom thought.

He had coppery red hair, streaked with white, was quite handsome and looked to be in fair shape, a little bit of a paunch, but all-in-all pretty acceptable. Tom stood and stretched, flexing his pecs and biceps. The man looked over at him.

Taking his time—walking slowly and sensually—Tom turned and headed for the path into the trees; the same one the man with the dogs had taken. When he reached the entrance to the shaded avenue, he paused and looked over his shoulder. The man was following.

That’s right, Red, right this way.

Tom didn’t want to get too far ahead as the park had many winding trails that branched off the main one. He didn’t want to take a chance his quarry would be separated from him and lost in the labyrinth. When he was sure the man was close enough, he started off again.

With a sureness that came from many excursions along these trails, Tom headed for an area where he was sure they could be alone and consummate whatever sexual favors the man would offer. Tom was getting excited. He could feel his cock hardening in his tight cut-offs. He took a deep breath, exhilarating in the sensations of sexual arousal.

Finding the secluded spot he was looking for, Tom turned and faced the man, who looked around nervously.

“Relax,” Tom said. “We’re safe here.” He reached out and cupped the man’s balls and cock through his pants. He was big and semi-hard. His heavy balls felt good in Tom’s hand.

“You sure?” the man asked, looking at Tom, uncertainty showing on his face. “I saw another car.”

Tom snickered as he continued to massage the man’s stiffening dick. “If you’re wantin’ complete privacy it probably ain’t gonna happen here. But trust me, we’re not gonna be seen.”

Tom took the man’s hand and placed it on his own hard prick and pressed it down. The man shuddered, took a deep breath and began to squeeze the rigid organ through the fabric. Tom reached around and held the man’s ass in his grip. It was firm and round. He pulled him forward and pressed his own package against that of his would-be sex partner.

“Wait,” the man said, pushing Tom back slightly.

Shit! A Nervous Nellie! Tom thought. “Hey, look, if you don’t want to—”

“No, I do,” the man said earnestly. “I just can’t get caught.”

“Shit, none of us wanna get caught,” Tom said, snickering again.