Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000 17:23:29 GMT
From: Woodrow Harrison <woodrow_h@hotmail.com>
Subject: Caught in the Act

The following is a work of fiction.  It is not intended to be read by
anyone not legally entitled to do so nor by anyone offended by common
gendered sexual activity.  Comments and constructive criticism to:
Woodrow_h@hotmail.com.

			Caught in the Act

August in northern Illinois can be a brutal time.  Temperatures often flirt
with the hundred degree mark, and high humidity contributes to the
oppressive "heat index": a term dreamed up by TV weathermen to remind us of
how miserable we should feel.

This year was different.  The mercury stayed well below average and the
rain passed by to the south.  The weather was quite pleasant.  The low
humidity discouraged the normal explosion of the mosquito population,
making outdoor recreation a distinct pleasure.

One Friday I found myself pretty much caught up at work, so I took the
afternoon off.  Changing from my business suit into shorts and a tee shirt,
I headed for the forest preserve midway between my office and home.  This
particular grove is popular with gays, so when one ventures into the woods,
he is apt to be followed by someone with a sexual tryst in mind.

The parking lot was almost full as I pulled in, though at least a quarter
of the cars there were occupied by a single male.  A quick count told me
that there must be about 15 people in the woods, for none of the picnic
tables was in use.

I parked, locked the car, and began walking into the woods when I heard a
car door slam behind me.  No doubt I was going to have company on my
stroll.  About fifty feet into the forest, shielded from the parking lot by
the dense foliage, I turned to look at who might be following me.  Contrary
to what you find in the average porno story, not all gays are hunks.  Some
of them can be fat pigs slovenly, dirty, or downright ugly.  I'm not all
that picky, but I do appreciate good grooming and enough self esteem in a
man to keep his weight reasonable.

This fellow, as I observed him approaching easily passed my criteria.  He
was grey haired, I'd guess late 50's early 60's like me.  He was short,
barrel- chested with a small belly that did not droop over his waist.  He
wore clean khaki shorts, revealing a pair of stout legs, covered with a
fine down of grey hair.  His shirt was off, thrown over his shoulder,
giving me a view of his lush chest and stomach thickly covered with soft
grey fur.  He wore a baseball cap and sockless sandals.

As he neared me, I smiled and asked him how it was going.  He smiled back
and said OK.  He stopped next to me and we exchanged platitudes about the
weather, consciously inching closer to each other until our feet touched.
That, since neither of us moved back, was the ice-breaker.  We knew what
each other wanted, and were willing to do it with each other.

I stripped off my tee shirt and we pulled each other into an embrace, our
hairy bellies grinding into each others.  His breath was sweet, his tongue
insistent as it explored the inside of my mouth.  I could feel the hardness
at his groin pressing onto me and my own stiff cock pressing right back.

Without breaking the kiss, he hooked his fingers into his waistband and
slipped his shorts to his ankles.  He wore no underwear, and a stiff 6" of
hot meat sprang up.

I dropped my shorts as well, and taking both our boners into my hand, began
rubbing them together, side by side.  Now he reached down taking mine in
one hand and his own in the other, began rubbing the tips together.  I was
getting really hot and squirmed a little.  He must have thought I was going
to cum, as he dropped his cock and went down on me.

He sucked me for a minute or so then I stood him up and went down on him.
We alternated like this a few times, then took each other in our arms
again.  The kiss was even more passionate than the first.  Our stiff cocks,
glistening with each other's saliva touched as our tongues jousted.  This
time I was on the verge of shooting my wad when we heard a footstep!

Shit!  Caught red handed!  We broke apart and hastily pulled up our shorts.
It was a vain gesture.  If it was a cop he had us dead to rights already.
Fortunately, it was just another guy cruising.  He walked by us wordlessly,
as if he had seen nothing amiss and disappeared into the woods.

Getting caught is always a hard-on shrinker for me, and the same effect was
evident in my friend.  There was nothing to it but to leave.  We were so
flustered, we didn't think to exchange names, but I did notice his truck
and wrote down the license number.  You can bet the next time I see that
particular vehicle, I'm going to make a diligent search for its owner.