Cemetary Man

[Toon]

This happened just a little over a year ago, but I can't definitely say for sure. It was perfect and so much like a filmed porn fantasy that I almost think my brain made it up.

I write novels and short stories, but you likely haven't seen any of them. I'm not very successful even though my agent Rachel had doggedly tried shopping my work to publishers everywhere. She suggested I write something lighter that would appeal to women. My usual stuff was mostly dark, macho and veered ever so close to what you might call "homoerotic".  I knew my writing had a very narrow appeal. I would sit in the darkness with only my laptop and a pack of generic cigarettes. I was almost broke so I decided to break the routine. Shake things up.

I got up at 8 am (way early for me) on a Friday morning and made the decision to get out of the apartment and go get inspiration somewhere scenic. I lived just up the street from a famously beautiful cemetery that predated the Civil War. The trees were lush and wildflowers were blooming like crazy everywhere. Scenic as fuck.

I sat at a small wooden table, polled a notepad out of my book bag, and started scribbling right away. Maybe a cemetery wasn't the best idea because I immediately started thinking up zombie stories ( and I'd already attempted a least a dozen of those. I tried to think  of what a woman would want to read, but that led me to think up stories that were too "Twilight"-ish. I resorted to my old trick of doodling instead. It's just to keep my pen moving and see if inspiration could find me instead of me chasing after it. Birds were singing and there was almost no traffic noise. I got into somewhat of a trance and felt so mystically receptive to ideas. It was a tranquil state that i'd only rarely experienced when trying to create.

Then the lawnmower started. Goddammit. I know cemeteries need to be mowed, but I was still pissed off. I mean. the grass all around me and around the stones was very groomed...so why mow it again? Just so I'd always be poor?? I swiveled around, looked behind me with a scowl and saw there was a guy mowing the ditches and hills along the edges of the property. Oh. He was on one of those mowers where you have to stand up. You know the kind I mean? I was no longer pissed once I noticed he was a young, light brown young guy with a decent build and had strikingly handsome facial features. He was scenic all on his own. Screw the wildflowers. So I moved to the other side of the table and just watched him work. I guessed that he was at least partly Latin.

I maybe tried to write a little in case he looked over and saw me staring, but he was just so mesmerizing.  I can't tell you how long I was looking. It was possibly 10. 20 or 30 minutes before he finished. He left the mower right over the spot where he stopped. He took of his baseball cap to reveal gloriously black hair that had a little curl at the edges. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a red hankie and stretched his long arms above his head after twisting his neck a few times to work out the kinks. It was a nice show and I almost felt like applauding excep thst  he was now  walking in my direction. There was no way I could keep my gaze fixed on him now so I started writing in my pad again. I think I wrote "Oh My God" about seven times before he reached the table and sat across from me. Oh My God, indeed.

 He opened with "Pretty hot, isn't it?" with no trace of a latin accent.

"It's nice", I replied even though I did suddenly become aware of sweat dripping down my back.

"You're some kind of writer, right?"

I said nothing. I just gazed into his dark brow eyes which almost had a bit of an asian slant.

"A lotta creative people come here with their notebooks and sketchbooks and shit", he said with a knowing smile. His teeth were perfectly white.

"I..I just came here for inspiration. I'm trying to write something for women".

"Oh I could tell you some stories about women, my friend".

"Now that you mention it, it is a little hot out today".

"Well let's go cool off then". He stood up instantly and I noticed how tall he was. 6'3" at least.

We led me toward what I assumed was a tool shed. I was thinking that it that wouldn't be much cooler in this aluminum death box. He produced a key from his front pocket and unlocked the metal door that led to pure blackness. He disappeared into the dark right behind him. I inched along ynril I heard a click as he flipped a wall switch that power up a very small, industrial over head light eith a long cord hanging from  the side. It wasn't all that bright but enough to illuminate a bunch of gas cans, rakes and huge white sacks of what I assumed was fertilizer or herbicide or something like that. "People get murdered in places like this", I thought to myself.  Then, with another key, he unlocked another metal door that led into  what looked like a small. old, but well-kept  motel room. It was carpeted and there wasn't really much in it except a made bed, a dresser with a tv on top of it and one of those little refrigerators. There was a tiny window air conditioner that the cemetary man immediately switched on.  It gurgled and clanked but a little wave of cool air soon wafted over us.

Suddenly he leaned over and his handsome face was close to mine. "This job pays shit, but I can stay here for free with no bills. Plus it even has an address and I can get mail."

He seemed really proud of the place. I tried to convey that I was likewise impressed but I think my facial expression showed only confusion. He laughed warmly and then sat on the edge of the bed and took off his giant black work boots and white socks, He stood and I couldn't help but notice how massive his bare feet were. I mean, they looked even bigger than the work boots he'd taken off and I couldn't imagine how he got them on.  I didn't ponder sbout that very long because he started taking off his t-shirt. I can't day for sure but I think he took it off deliberatrly slow -- like he was in a movie or something.  His torso wasn't toned and muscled so much as it was just "bulky". He wasn't fat, just BIG. Also hairless. Naturally hairless except for the black, black tufts of armpit hair I could glimpse.

"Get undressed", he said in a tone that was suthotitive but friendly. I made slow work of unbuttoning my shirt as I watched him remove his jeans. I had to turn around so I could focus on the basic motor skills it took to take my clothes off. Somehow I ended up naked all under my own power. 

I turned back to see his fully naked body spread eagle on the bed. It was a sight to behold and I took a thousand mental snapshots for my brain to hold forever. Forever. His cut dick was full, hard and healthy-sized. It pointed straight up at the ceiling and visibly throbbed a little (though that might have been my imagination).

"There's pops in the fridge if you want one", he said as he vaguely gestured with one arm. I didn't respond because I was frozen and unaware that my mouth was hanging open.  He laughed again and them rolled over onto his stomach. "Give me a backrub. I been working since 8 and I'm sore all over. Please?"

Well, sure.

I climbed in the bed next to him and started kneading his shoulders. I'd never given a massage before and was only initating  what I'd seen in movies and stuff.  He nade grateful noises so I guess I was doing an okay job.  While most his body was hairless, there five or so tattoos on his back. I guess there was a theme going on. Oceanic. There were stylized tides, a dolphin and s few others like that. And there was one more right above the crack of his beefy round ass: a biohazard symbol. I briefly thought it might be a statement about water pollution, but I secretly knew what this tat meant. I grew lightheaded and it was mainly because I'd forgotten to breathe.  I moved down to massage his huge feet and he made mad groans of pleasure.

"Sorry my feet are so gross", he said with a small voice that was muffled a little by the pillow his face was buried in. 

"They're fine", I answered. But actually they were a tad gross. His callouses were hard and yellow-ish. He was for sure a working man. I could feel my hands getting tired and wanted to stop, but then, what would come next? What would cpme next with the biohazardous cemetary man?  I mustered a casual voice and asked "Are you a surfer?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh, I just noticed your tats and it seems like you like the ocean alot".

"I do. I definitely do, but I got those back when I lived in Hawaii. My mom is a native Hawaiian and my dad was white."

Oh. Okay. He talked about it a little bit more and noticed that whenever he said the word "Hawaii", he added an accent and an extra syllable. Kinda hot, actually. But the biohazaed tattoo was still on my mind. }So are you worried about pollution?"

"I used to be". Huh? But not any more? What did that mean? 

He lifted his head,turned over and started jacking his fully hard dick.  He motioned for me to get back next to him and I did. We embraced and I could smell the cemetary on him....grass, pollen, gasoline, assorted chemicals and sweat. It was almost overpowering. As if he could read my thoughts, he announced that he needed to shower. "Don't you dare" I responded. With that, he climbed on top of me and kissed me so hard. I tasted the Pacific islands and couldn't get enough. The worrisome tat was banished from my hrad, forgotten.  He pulled his mouth away from mine and straddled my face with his crotch. With his hands on the wall, he thrust that big member of his past my lips and mouth and a little way into my throat. I couldn'y really breathe and was afraid I'd maybe die or vomit right  there and then. Hw pistoned in and out of my face for a few more seconds. He got off of me and I was noticing that I was still alive.

He was standing on the floor at the foot of the bed with that big intruder between his legs looking wet, red and ready to continue. He pullled me down to him and raised my legs and spread them over his shoulders. I'd fooked around before, but never gotten around to having actual butt sex. I always found the idea of it embarrassing and was afraid of the pain. And the STDs. But here I was. I almost wanted to warn him that I probably wouldn't be able to finish this, but at that moment the naked head of his dick rammed into my hole. I screamed. It hurt like broken glass was being forced into me. This had to stop. I tried to use my words to tell him I couldn't do it. I'd promise we'd try another time and that I was so. so sorry. But all I could do was cry.  I tried again to say things when I realized he was he was still inside of me and further inside. I looked up through my tears and saw his eyes closed tight , squinting with pleasure. He was miles away, over the ocean somewhere, and couldn't hear anything I said anyway.  It was way too late for words now. I knew this for sure when his breathing got faster and the thrusting of his wide hips got more intense. For reasons only my primitive knows, I reached around, grabbed the fleshy mounds of his butt and pulled Cemetary Man closer to me. It was an erotic gesture that came almost too late because he was suddenly done without so much as a groan or an "I'm coming".

He was still inside of me but not moving. His big, friendly brown eyes were open and dmiling.

Another ocean was polluted. 

I left he cemetary about ten minutes later with a new kind of inspiration. I went back for more inspiration almost every week that month. Early last year, the doctor found something inside me that was definitely not a story. Or maybe it was.

 

 

 

 

[dad4BBTop]

absolutely love spontaneous hookups that end in a hole full of cum. 

[lynn1964]

Lord have mercy!!!! The fantasy of hundreds , if not thousands, of us gay men everywhere!!! Doing your own thing, bothering no one and BAM, the man from the cover of one of those WalMart cheap of romance paperbacks that sell in the thousands! Right there, for you to devour or to devour you! And it happens! And it is one of the fucks that stays in your mind til you breath no more! One of those "important" ones!

So hot Toon. I was there, in the little shed/home, stuttering, shuttering, cumming!