A carpool area, next to public park, becomes a hotspot for homosexual pickups. Straight, sex-starved Marvin learns there are likeminded women there, too!
Part One
Sometime around 1980 when I was in my early forties, the provincial governments in Canada began a big push to encourage people to incorporate carpooling into their daily ritual of travelling to and from work. It was all part of a grand scheme trying to lessen highway traffic and reduce air pollution, both laudable goals. Accordingly, many carpool areas were conveniently established where coworkers could meet up, park their cars free of charge and just take one vehicle to their place of employment instead of two, three or four. For the most part, the idea was well received by the public.
In my area, just on the outskirts of the city of 55,000 inhabitants, there was a sizable parcel of land that was turned into a combination carpool and public park. It was officially known as Suffolk Park, named after a recently deceased city council member who had long advocated for carpooling. All one saw from the highway was an enormous paved parking lot for the carpoolers, but adjacent to it was a huge park that was vastly underused. It had meandering jogging paths, a nature trail, a playground, and a picnic area. All of these attractions were basically ignored by the general public.
In time, Suffolk Park was slowly taken over by homosexuals who were interested in using the secluded area solely for impromptu sexual get-togethers. My neighbor, a gay male about the same age I was, went there almost daily for casual sex. He wasn’t the only one. It became such a hangout for gays and lesbians looking for meet-ups that Suffolk Park became known as Sodomy Park to the locals. When that became common knowledge, it became even less used by families.
On some level, I was envious of my aforementioned neighbor, William Hilborn, who frankly told me one day, “If you travel to Suffolk Park looking to hook up with a fellow gay male and fail to do so, you aren’t really trying.” The culture there was that pervasive! I, Marvin Curtis, was as straight as an arrow, so gay hookups fell well outside my sphere of interest. Homosexuality had always baffled me. I thought it was patently obvious that human anatomy and biology made it quite clear that males and females were supposed to have sexual relationships—not same-sex duos.
I myself had a very high heterosexual sex drive, but unfortunately for me I was physically unattractive—and I always had been. I was short, pudgy and had a very plain face. I even had unappealing, wiry, rust-colored hair that tended to stick out in places. Needless to say, I was single and I wasn’t getting much carnal action in my personal life. I sincerely wished there was a similar place for people like me to regularly hook up with likeminded females for quick romps. I didn’t care if the females looked like NFL linebackers. I wanted casual sex, too!
One warm, springtime Sunday morning I was sitting on my porch reading a newspaper, when I saw William, who lived directly across the street from me, headed for his car. I had a pretty fair idea where he was going. We had a friendly relationship, so I could kid him about his sexual preference. “Off to commit buggery again, William?” I shouted at him jokingly.
“Of course, perhaps two or three times if my stamina holds out!” he responded with a cheeky grin. Then he added, “Want to join me, Marvin?”
“William, you know damn well that homosexuality doesn’t compute in my brain,” I told him. “Now if you were going somewhere where there were horny heterosexual women with loose morals, I’d tag along with you in a heartbeat.”
William gave me a surprising answer. “There are women who go to Suffolk Park for sexual fun, you know.”
“Yeah, they’re called lesbians,” I retorted. They’re not interested in me—and I’m certainly not interested in them.”
“Some of them are bisexual, my friend. They like to get rammed by penises just like straight women do.”
That had never occurred to me. I always figured a person was either a homosexual or heterosexual—and nothing in between. Some of these vague options were a mystery to me. I asked William what I thought was a legitimate question: “How can a person tell which females hanging around Suffolk Park are bisexual and which ones are just your run-of-the-mill lesbians?”
William replied, “They don’t carry signs advertising how they’re wired, but if you simply ask them if they are interested in hooking up with you, you’ll find out in a hurry.”
I had nothing on my agenda that Sunday morning, so I silently figured, “What the heck! I might just get laid!” I told William to please wait a minute or two—then I’d join him for the ride to Suffolk Park.
Part Two
I went inside my house, got a light spring jacket because it was the middle of April, and grabbed a new porn magazine that had arrived in the mail the day before. I figured a few glimpses at the photos and some of the steamy stories and articles it contained would get me in the proper mood and physical condition for some impromptu, utterly meaningless sex with some strange female—if I was lucky.
William had a great sense of humor. The first thing he said to me as I approached his car was, “I guess this counts as carpooling, so we’re using Suffolk Park precisely as it was intended to be used!” I openly laughed at that witty remark.
With it being a Sunday morning, it was only about a 15-minute ride to the carpool, far quicker than had it been a weekday morning with commuters heading to work. Accordingly, I expected the parking lot to be practically vacant. Instead, I was surprised to see that the lot was about one-third full.
I commented, “Wow, I thought no one would be here at this early hour on a Sunday morning.” It was 8:45 a.m. According to a sign located near where the parking lot ended and the park began, the carpool area was open 24 hours a day, but the park was only available to the public “from sunrise to sunset each day throughout the year.” William informed me that the local police diligently enforced that rule—then they pretty much vanished when the sun appeared in the sky.
William, displaying more of his lively humor, sang a parody version of the Billy Joel song “Piano Man.” He warbled, “It’s nine o’clock on a Sunday. The regular crowd rushes in. There’s an old man on a park bench, waiting for me to shove my dick in!” I figured William had missed his true calling in life. He was employed as a university librarian—but he should have been a comedy writer.
William was eager to do what he had come to do, so He sent me on my way, reinforcing that all I needed to do was ask an unaccompanied female if she was interested in having a “hetero romp”—as he put it. I said, “Okay, if you say so.” But I was genuinely afraid I’d get myself into considerable trouble by doing what William had just advised.
I walked in the opposite direction as William. For some reason, I figured where he was going was where the gay males all congregated. Therefore, if I walked the other way, I would encounter females. At first, I saw no one else at all. I found a park bench, took a seat, and began looking at my magazine. It was a monthly publication produced in Norway. It featured lurid full-color photos of busty, young Scandinavian females engaging in all sorts of sexual fun with males whom I figured were the luckiest guys on the planet. The images got me aroused in a hurry—especially a photo essay of a sexy, blonde model who possessed the most desirable breasts I had ever seen. They were perfect!
I figured since I was alone in a secluded area, I’d openly take care of my building urge. I unzipped my trousers and began stroking my rising phallus. It was the only body part of mine that I was proud of as it was marginally larger than an average male’s equipment. I had been tugging away for perhaps 30 seconds while glancing at the open magazine beside me on the bench when I heard a female’s voice to my left and slightly behind me.
“Need any help doing that?” she playfully asked me.
I was both startled and embarrassed. When I turned my head, I saw a plain young woman, perhaps 25 years old, grinning at me. She was not thin. In fact, she was what you would call a chunky girl. My natural instinct was to cover myself up, but she said, “Don’t do that, please! I’m enjoying the show. Keep jerking off. I’ll help you, too, if you want. By the way, my name is Lily.”
For a moment I was utterly dumbfounded. How does a person respond to such an offer under these circumstances? After a long and somewhat awkward pause, I said to my new friend, “Well, if you insist…”
“Yes, I do insist! Let me sit beside you, please,” she responded.
Lily picked up my magazine, looked at the photos I had been lustfully gawking at, and promptly said, “I apologize for not looking anything like this lovely young creature, but we can’t have everything, can we?”
I laughed and told her, “Hey, I’d be satisfied with looking half as good as the male who’s screwing her. I envy this guy!”
“You’ve got a pretty big dick, though,” Lily told me what I already knew. “I’m good at giving hand jobs. Let me finish you off.”
Without saying another word, Lily, placed her right hand on the shaft of my rod and her left one on my testicle sack. She obviously knew what she was doing—and what she was doing was giving me immense pleasure. She only stopped for a moment to remove the plain grey sweatshirt she was wearing. Lily wasn’t wearing a brassiere, so two floppy, jiggly boobs were exposed.
“Help yourself to them!” she said invitingly.
I took that broad statement to mean I could fondle her tits—so that’s what I did. Lily’s jugs were undeniably a rather lovely set. I had always loved female breasts, regardless of shape or size, since I first noticed what made girls different from boys. I considered myself a longtime connoisseur of mammary glands. When I was just six years old, I made a habit of hugging the four-year-old girl next door so I could press my chest against hers. In the 36 years since those days, I had never stopped liking that sensation.
“Suck on them if you like—and I’ll do the same to you in return at some point.”
“Deal!” I said happily. Lily kept tugging on my rod and squeezing my balls as I merrily sucked on her nipples which were rapidly hardening. It was becoming quite an unusual and enjoyable Sunday morning for me!
“I can’t resist any, longer!” Lily suddenly announced. “I need to suck on that beautiful, stiff dick of yours.” She emphasized the word “need.” I had no cause to doubt this was a need for Lily rather than a mere carnal desire.
I reluctantly released my hands from Lily’s ample chest so she could position herself to give me fellatio. She chose to kneel directly in front of me to perform this particular sex act. Within two seconds of her putting my manhood inside her mouth, I could tell Lily was equally skilled and experienced at doing this task, too. I placed my hands on the back of her head to encourage her to take me as deeply as she could. She got the idea and complied.
“I’m going to come in about ten seconds,” I told her. “Where to you want it?”
Lily didn’t bother to answer—and her moth was full of me. Therefore, I did the only thing I could possibly do under the circumstances. I strongly shot a load of warm semen deep into her mouth. I loudly moaned in ecstasy as I fired three ropes of jism down Lily’s throat. This affectionate gal was a real pro as she didn’t gag in the slightest—which amazed me. If she was that used to a having her mouth filled with sperm, I figured I was about the hundredth male to come in her mouth. That made no difference to me at all. I hadn’t come to Suffolk Park to find a virtuous woman.
Lily proudly opened her mouth as wide as she could to show me that she had swallowed every last drop of my load. “Down the hatch!” she exclaimed triumphantly before breaking into girlish giggles.
I immediately lifted Lily off her knees and moved her body forward so I could have a second round of sucking on her tits. She took my right hand and placed it inside her panties so I could finger her vagina. After what Lily had just for me, I was more than happy to reciprocate with any sexual act she desired!
I must have been just what she wanted because my combination of sucking on her boobs and fingering her pussy pushed Lily to a substantial orgasm. She shoved her jeans and wet panties down to her ankles so I could taste my handiwork. I did—and I enjoyed it. Now we were both giggling as if we were small children.
“That was totally fabulous,” I told her after taking a satisfying deep breath. “Do you come here often?”
“Yes, I’m here practically every day if the weather is favorable,” Lily replied. “May I ask you an important question now?”
“Certainly!” I said cheerfully. “Feel free to ask me anything you like.”
“What’s your name, sir?”
I was a little bit embarrassed for not having mentioned my name to Lily before we got extremely intimate with each other. I told her I was Marvin Curtis, I was 42 years old, and despite me being a local resident, it was the first time I had ever come to Suffolk Park since it had opened three years earlier. I felt compelled to add that I had just experienced the most pleasurable sexual encounter of my life—thanks to her. Indeed, it had been a wonderfully meaningless sexual encounter, done just for the fun of it. It was precisely what I had desired when I decided to get into William’s car that morning and come along for the ride.
Lily explained to me that she considered herself to be “pansexual”. I nodded knowingly, but that was a bluff. That term was completely unknown to me. (I promptly looked it up in my unabridged dictionary when I got home. The definition said, “having physical, emotional, or romantic attraction to people regardless of their gender.” At the very least, I figured Lily was maximizing her options! Now I completely understood why she said she’d be hanging around the park for another hour or so, this time hoping to hook up with a compliant female.)
Lily departed from my company almost as quickly as she arrived, but before she headed down the pathway, she asked me if I’d be coming to Suffolk Park on a regular basis.
I gave her an honest, and thoroughly lustful answer: “If you’ll be here, Lily, I’ll make sure to be here, too.”
Wiliam and I hadn’t discussed the length of time we ‘d be staying at the park, so I just estimated how long it would take him to have his version of a good time before I headed back down the pathway to the parking lot. I spent the interim relaxing on the bench, staring at the naked Norwegian babes in my porno magazine, and envying their male photo shoot partners. I didn’t jerk off because I didn’t need to. Lily had completely drained my balls for me.
I arrived at the car around 11 a.m. I was standing there alone for perhaps two minutes when William walked toward me. I wasn’t the least bit curious about what he had been doing or whom he had been doing it with, but judging by the expression on his face, he seemed to be a very pleased chap.
“Any success?” he curiously asked me.
“Yes, almost instantly!” I blurted. William seemed genuinely happy for me and patted me on the back.
“Hey, let’s go for brunch somewhere,” I proposed. “It will be my treat, since you suggested I join you this morning and we took your car here.” My offer was quickly accepted.
As we were driving towards a favorite restaurant of mine, I stated, “William, my friend, we should do this every Sunday morning.”
“You mean get together for brunch?”
“Yeah…that, too.” I said with a contented smile.
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