Date: Mon, 22 Nov 1999 03:48:49 PST
From: L RH <lrhco@hotmail.com>
Subject: Galahad of the Goldmine

Galahad -  An anecdote -

Travelling South yesterday from Auckland to Tauranga, I stopped at a rest area
by a lake an hour north of my destination.  I went into the small public toilet
(1 stall, 1 double urinal ) and sat in the cubicle looking through the GH at the
urinal and quietly jacking myself.  In the parking area had been a camper van
with what looked like an elderly couple having a tea break, and a lone youngish
guy in his car.  I hadn't looked around too long, so as not to attract
attention, and didn't know whether there was any chance of striking lucky.  A
shadow appeared on the floor, and then a guy stood at the urinal.  I was
frustrated because he stood so close, and I couldn't see much except jeans and
what looked like an old grey woollen sweater.  I didn't want to do anything too
overt until I was a little more sure of the situation.  Being Gay in NZ is
legal, but sex in public toilets is not, and police do tend to set up entrapment
scenarios.  I was trying to see more - was he playing with himself?  Abruptly,
he moved away and went back outside.  The time he spent there wasn't very long,
and he could have been pissing or wanking, and I had missed my chance.  I left a
minute or so later and went back to my car.  It was starting to rain lightly
again, so I got in my car quite quickly.

The camper van was as it had been, but I noticed the car was still there, but
now minus driver.  I looked around and saw him standing beyond the toilet block,
ostensibly looking at the lake, despite the fact that light rain was falling
quite steadily.  "Bloody Hell" was my immediate reaction.  It didn't look like a
police set up, so I put on my rain jacket, made a wish and got out of the car
again - locking the door and "strolling" along the indistinct path.  I didn't
dare glance at the camper van, so I don't know if they noticed me or not.  The
guy was now out of sight, and I started to chicken out.  However, as I had
already armed myself with an "I needed to stretch my legs after 2 hours of
driving, and the rain isn't that heavy" excuse, I continued on my way around the
lake.  He was just out of sight, sitting on a bench looking at the water.  I
strolled nonchalantly behind him and over a small footbridge.  There are some
thinly spaced trees, but I figured there was enough cover for a quick blow job
if I got lucky.  When I looked back, the seat was obscured by some trees, so I
didn't know whether he was still there or not.

Now I'm in reasonable condition, but it can't be denied that I won't see 50
again, and now that he had seen me, he may have lost what interest he had had.
Sure, he didn't look at me, but I perfected that trick years ago myself - you
know - you don't look, but you can see if you really want to.  I was beginning
to think I wasn't fated to have any luck, when I saw denim through some of the
branches.  He was coming, so I headed a little more into the trees, but still
completely visible to him if he was interested.  He wasn't tall, but I still
wasn't sure if he was the police or not.

Dammit - he stopped on the foot bridge facing away from me, so I moved a little
further in still.  I was starting to get worried, but I saw that he was about 30
and was quite sexy - beside which, I was as randy as hell by now.  I started to
play with my cock inside my track pants, and he glanced over several times, but
made no other move in my direction.  This was getting frustrating.  I decided to
pull my cock out and let him see me wanking - there's nothing too complicated
understanding that situation, surely?  At last he turned around, put his hand in
his jeans pocket and started playing with himself.  It looked very healthy to
me, but he hadn't actually brought it out.  He was about 6 metres away, and if
he had shown me his cock, I would have moved closer, but as it was, I still
wasn't sure if I were being set-up or not.  Were his buddies in the camper van
and now coming down the trail?  I had only briefly seen a man in his late 60's,
but others could have been sitting out of sight.

To add to my frustration, I was no longer hard, because I was nervous, so
objectively, what he was presented with, was a grey haired 50 year old guy,
under the trees, with a soft cock in his hand, not making any further moves.  I
wonder if he thought I was the fuzz?  I don't look like a cop in my  eyes, but
who can tell?  This is a small township, and he may have been as uncertain of me
as I was of him.  Then he stopped rubbing himself via his pocket, and strolled
on over the bridge.  Great, but he went to the trees on the other side of the
path to me.  Damn!  It was only lightly drizzling now, but I thought I would
give up and made my way back to the path.  He had stopped in the trees on his
side, and was standing with his arms folded, looking at the lake.  He heard me
coming out onto the path and looked my way.  But he didn't smile, just looked
briefly then looked away again.  I decided to stroll past him, and stand in the
trees closer to him - how subtle can one get?  I was now about 2 metres away
from him, and I put my hand down the waistband of my track pants and played with
my still soft cock.  He looked at me several times, but made no other moves.  He
then walked away and I thought, Oh well, I didn't pass muster.  But dammit
again, he stopped a few metres away, and carried on with the "occasional glance"
routine, with his arms still folded.  Finally, he strolled back down the path,
over the footbridge and towards the parking area and toilet block.  I though
maybe he was heading back to the toilet, so I followed at a distance, but he
carried straight on to his car and got in (the camper van was still there), but
didn't drive away.
I gave up at this point, got into my own car, and drove off  to Tauranga.  If
you think you're frustrated by this tale, imagine how I felt.  That night, I
jacked off to the memory of the episode and thoughts of what might have been.

I returned to Auckland today (an overnight business meeting) still frustrated as
hell, and my cock now relentlessly hard - where were you when I needed you?  As
I approached the rest area from the other direction, I made a point of seeing if
his maroon car was there again, accompanied by the camper van.  Nope - neither.
There were however 4 or 5 cars, with families and children running around
feeding the ducks and such.  I decided to get a cup of coffee a bit further on
and to come back after that and try one more time. This I did, and a car loaded
with kids and dogs etc was pulling out just as I pulled into the area.  This
left only one car and it was empty.  I wasn't feeling too optimistic, but I
needed to have a piss anyway, so parked and went into the toilet.

The cubicle door was closed!  Was I going to be lucky this time?  I stood where
my tease had stood yesterday and pissed.  I have several fetishes, but water
sports is not among them, so I cleared my bladder, while trying to peer through
the glory hole.  I couldn't see much, without risking pissing on my shoes, but
what I could see was interesting.  Red and grey striped briefs, pushed down to
his ankles,  and sports shoes, which seemed a fairly small size.  One for, one
against, as I'm not into paedophilia either.  When I finally finished pissing
(the coffee didn't help!) I shook myself dry, then did what my tormentor the day
before should have done, I moved away from the hole to the far end of the
urinal.  Definitely a much better view.  His knees were apart, although his hand
was over his lap and it didn't seem to be moving.  I was on more familiar
territory now, and slowly started masturbating, and thank god, my cock behaved
(or misbehaved) and got firm.  I was just starting to twist and bend in order to
see more, when the lock on the door changed from "engaged" to "vacant".  The
moment of truth.  Was this a child (no thanks), was it someone who seemed dirty
or threatening, would he see I was older and lose interest pronto??  You know
that feeling - one of the big turn-ons with  this sort of escapade.  I mentally
crossed my fingers, because my right hand was otherwise occupied and stepped
back.

There was a teenage boy, sitting with his pants and briefs around his ankles,
looking at me.  Now I prefer older men, and this guy only looked about 18.  I
started to think - "no way", when he indicated with his head that I should join
him in the stall.  I was so horny by now, I would have gone with almost (!)
anyone.  I went in and locked the door behind me.  It was a wheelchair access
cubicle and there was plenty of room for me to stand out of sight if anyone else
had come into the toilet then, without showing my feet to anyone unless they lay
flat on the floor to peer under.

This young man was a beautiful but masculine specimen.  I thought - "OK, he is
horny and wants to shoot, and will settle for anything - probably with no
reciprocation".  That was OK by me, but then he stood up and moved closer to me,
and reached for my cock while I was still locking the door!!  Whoever he is, he
has been brought up properly!

"What did he look like?" you may be wondering, if you have stayed with me thus
far. I was in love with his thighs immediately.  He had coffee coloured skin,
but I don't think he had Maori blood in him - although that is sheer guess work.
He looked Mediterranean, maybe Italian, maybe Iranian - who knows, but he had
the Latino look that I jerk-off over on the net so often.  I gave my all-purpose
"I may not look much to someone your age, but I promise you a good experience"
look, and he returned an amazing smile.  I was so surprised, and he was groping
me though my track pants.  I had to run my hands over his marvellous  thighs -
taut skin over smooth well developed, verging on bulky, Quads, and with a
moderate coating of fine black hair.  I haven't felt muscles like that for a
long time.  His cock was a healthy 6.5, and that was more than fine by me, and
was surrounded by a moderate growth of black pubic hair, including his balls.  I
know shaving your balls is supposed to make the hunks on the porn pages look
like they have a bigger cock, but I LIKE licking balls with a hairy covering.
He had no hair on his abdomen or chest, which is what makes me think he was
(excuse me, I just had to wipe pre-cum off my keyboard - How did that get
there?) relatively young.

This has taken much longer to write, than it did to happen, because by now, I
had reached for his lovely cock with my left hand, and was feeling it tighten as
I did so.  I pulled my cock and balls over my waistband with my  free hand, and
he returned my ministrations.  He had a remarkably delicate touch for one who
seemed so young.  Often (OK, not so often these days) I find that young guys are
super vigorous and have a lack of technique which can be endearing, but which I
don't really enjoy that much.  The violent jerking of a stranger's hand can be
quite uncomfortable at times, but this young man had learnt the finer points of
masturbating and wasn't afraid to use them.  I let go his cock, and ran my hands
over his outer thighs, up to his abdomen and under his white T shirt.  He was
using his left hand to rub my chest through my own T shirt, and I have to admit
I sucked in my gut so as not to put him off.  I try to keep fit, but I have to
admit that instead of a "six pack", I sport more of a "chateau cardboard" wine
bladder if I'm not careful.  Partly to avoid his coming to grips with my
slightly softened abs, but mainly as a "thank you" for his invitation,  I bent
forward and started sucking his lovely cock.

Usually guys stand up straight and let me get down to it, hopefully enjoying the
sensations I am able to produce.  I love sucking and being sucked, and if you
like doing something, you tend to get quite good at it.  I meant to show him a
good time, as compensation for not getting someone nearer his own age.  But no -
he immediately started running his hands over my shirt-covered back.  I have
yucky back hair, but he will never know that.  Once again I was struck by his
sensitive touch --I was getting two shots of pleasure - one from sucking this
lovely dark cock, and one from the sensations he was eliciting by his
ministrations.  No, make that 3 shots of pleasure, because the mere fact of his
reciprocating so soon, made me start to feel special.  I ran my hands up and
down his trunk, then progressed back to his thighs again. I used both hands on
his right thigh, and gently ran the flat of my hands up and down his beautiful
quads.  I was enjoying myself immensely.  Looking down as I sucked, I could see
his red and grey briefs at a closer distance (another big turn on for me) and
noticed he had cotton pants of some sort - a patterned blue material, with very
little bulk.  I couldn't tell if they were modern long shorts, or long trousers,
but I didn't really care to be honest.  My right hand slid up to his right inner
crotch where it meets the thigh, and my left hand slid up to his butt.

BUBBLE BUTT!!!  It is an overused phrase, but in this case it was the first
thing to come to mind, and let's face it, I was not about to stop what I was
doing in order to find a less hackneyed phrase.  His Gluts were as muscular and
tight as his quads, and were covered with fine hair.  I wanted to bury my face
in his crack and lick between his cheeks and really appreciate his fine rear,
but I decided against this.  I remember how unsettled I was the first time
someone rimmed me.  I actually asked the guy involved to stop, and he had
thought he was giving me a treat.  I wasn't very long in the scene, and this was
too much for me.  My, how we change.  I didn't want to put off my lovely young
man, when I was so ready to explode and didn't know how long he would stay with
me.

Sure enough, around about this point, he pulled away.  OK, well, it had been
nice while it lasted, even though I had only just started.  But no!  I told you
he was well brought up.  He pulled my bent body into the upright position,
grabbed the waist band of my pants and briefs, and dragged them quickly to mid
thigh - obviously not an underwear fetishist, but hey, no-body's perfect.  HE
then bent forward and started sucking my cock.

Now I have to admit I was very surprised.  Sure, if you're polite, when someone
stops sucking your cock and stands up, that is the signal that it is your turn
to reciprocate.  But this young guy didn't wait for the formalities - he was
apparently eager to suck my cock, and wasn't prepared to keep it one sided.  I
know it wasn't love I felt at that point, but man was I grateful - talk about
spicing up one's ego.  And get this!!  He sucked as well as he masturbated!  Not
a sharp tooth, not a gag reflex, just smooth sliding up and down on my cock -
and he wasn't beating himself off, he was gently massaging my balls and rubbing
my thighs in return - such talent in one so young.  Maybe he is really in his
20's and just well preserved, but my goodness, I was getting far more than I had
anticipated.  I ran my hands up and down his spine, then slid the hem of his T-
shirt up his back to touch and feel the wonderful skin there.  I slid my hands
around his waist, and those taut abdominal muscles were just as lovely from that
angle - he was a picture of healthy manhood.  I reached further to feel his cock
again, and gently played with it, and squeezed it, and slid my hand up and down
the length.  Believe it or not, I couldn't really tell if he had a foreskin,
because he had that youthful hardness all this time and if a foreskin was
present, it was not very long.  My preference is for cut, but I wouldn't have
objected - he was scrupulously clean.  My feeling is that he was circumcised,
because afterwards (see later), when he was squeezing the remaining cum from his
cock, although skin went past the head, it was probably just being pulled up by
the squeezing action.  All in all, his body was a work of art - thank god I
won't see him again because I could see me making a total fool of myself over
him - not a good look!

All this time, I was still fairly nervous of someone coming in and catching us.
To tell the truth, it also involved potential feelings of  disappointment if
this particular mood was broken.  It was my turn to pull him back to the upright
position -wouldn't you know he would be reluctant to stop??  I whispered the
stock question "Is there anywhere safer?"  I thought he said yes, but he
misheard me, because when I said "Where" he admitted there was no-where
suitable.  I didn't like to suggest going into the trees outside, because with a
fine day, the chances of passers-by were much higher, and I didn't just want to
suck his dick poking over his waistband - no improvement on our present
situation.  He continued to rub my chest while we were whispering - I was so
turned on.   So I crouched in front of him, and began licking his inner thigh,
up to his balls.  They were lovely - drawn up tight in his ball sac, and covered
by his fine pubic hair - black, clean and very very inviting.  I licked either
side of his balls, I licked his balls, I licked his cock and travelled up to the
cock head and swallowed it again.  This time, his thighs were right in front of
me.  I swallowed him deeply, and had the pleasure of feeling his thighs against
my face.  My hands slid forward and backward around his pelvis, and once again
fantasised about rimming this perfect butt.  I slid my hands around to the front
again and stretched up to his pecs - not as developed as his wonderful legs
(possibly a cyclist rather than a weight lifter) but still firm, manly and oh so
desirable.  He was rubbing my head (no. 2 crop) and my shoulders as I was
enjoying his body, and once more I was aware how much we were able to share in
these circumstances.  If only I had had a Motel or something, but this was not
an option in such a small town, where everybody is known.  Once again, he stood
me up (gentle, but FIRM) and returned to sucking my cock, and playing with my
body.  It sure as hell wasn't his first time sucking a cock - and he must have
either had a good teacher, or was very aware of what people had done to him.
When I stood him up, to look at him and enjoy his presence, I couldn't help
telling him what a great body he had.  In a way, it was almost an insult
restricting my compliment to this one facet, because not only did he have a
magnificent body, he was also devilishly handsome, had a great cock & balls,
wonderfully sensitive hands and an overall technique which made me feel special.

And would you believe it, he gave another lovely smile and thanked me for the
compliment.  Not self deprecating, but appreciating being appreciated and
thereby respecting my assessment.  Whenever I used to get compliments (in the
past), I would be so overcome with confusion, that I almost always said, "No I'm
not", thereby questioning the other guy's honesty or taste or both.  Acceptance
of  a compliment is a talent it took me many years to develop.  This young prize
package has got so many things going for him.  I was really smitten (as I said,
not seeing him again is probably best, but .....).  As I couldn't offer him
unlimited wealth, a rewarding career and eternal happiness, I settled for
licking his stomach instead - which he seemed to like!  I once more started
sucking his cock and holding his legs, back, butt and anything else I could get
my filthy paws on.  He grabbed me by the waist, and I even forgot to be
embarrassed by my incipient love handles, as I continued to enjoy his wonderful
body.

Suddenly, he came in my mouth.  No warning, no spasm of his body, no grunts -
just that ripple in his cock that an experienced mouth can feel with lips and
tongue.  I was pleased, disappointed, surprised ... a mix of emotions.  That
hasn't happened for a long long time.  No, I didn't swallow - I spat it out into
the toilet - but I was reluctant, which surprises me.  I am clean as far as I
know, but I have modified my behaviour over the years, and expect others to have
done the same - naive I know.  But I would love to have swallowed this young
man's cum - any damage would probably have occurred at the first spurt, so I
don't know what I think I accomplished.  I also didn't want to embarrass him (no
fool like an old fool), but my first reaction was to spit once he had finished..
I think I regret this now, but hey - too late.  (For future reference, I would
like him to ask FIRST before coming in a guy's mouth.  I loved it, although I
was taken aback, but it really should be a joint decision.)

Another wonderful smile.  He squeezed the remnants out as I mentioned earlier,
and the next step should have been a friendly pat, trousers up , brief thanks
and exit young Galahad - how many times in the past?   Nope - he surprised me
again.  He beamed at me and  started bringing my cock back to the boil with
those magic fingers.  By this time, we had been together about ten minutes, and
I felt the danger of the situation was increasing.  He had already given me a
really great time, and I would have hated to jeopardised his safety more than
necessary.  I told him not to bother, and to leave before we were caught.
Another wonderful grin, a "thanks" and he hauled up his pants.  They turned out
to be those cotton "weightlifter's" pants, which gave me a lift as a parting
shot.  He left, I re-locked the door and I heard him get in his car and drive
away.  I proceeded to beat off and came quickly.

As I continued driving north, I couldn't stop thinking about him.  If only...

If only  ... I had asked him if he wanted to go out into the park and have a
chat.  Stupid, eh?  But guys in small centres are often very lonely, confused,
and have no-one to talk to.  I would hate to think of him going through the
terrible times others have in such circumstances.  I was lucky.  Sure, I am of
the generation that didn't openly come out until I was in my 40's, although I
had been having wild sex for many many years - especially in toilets - but even
then it was hardly a triumphant work of bravado.  I had moments of depression,
exhilaration, introspection - all that stuff, but I came from the biggest city
in New Zealand, with a fairly cosmopolitan outlook and opportunities for fitting
in.  In retrospect, when I consider the number of young suicides around, I think
I had it fairly easy.

If only ... I could know that he was OK.  I have talked to some young guys over
the years, and hopefully have been of some help in times of stress.  If this guy
needed a shoulder to cry on, it would be nice to think I was of some help.  Not
to be, sadly.

 In the unlikely event that you are on the Internet, on this web site, have read
this memoir (which has changed in character even as it was being written) and
recognise yourself, I would love you to contact me - lrhco@hotmail.com .  As an
identifier - I remember the colour of your car!  And which ear was pierced and
how many rings!  Even if you think I'm a stupid old fart, who took too long to
suck you off in the local bog, that would tell me you were OK.  But unless I
truly am a stupid old fart, my guess is that you wouldn't have that attitude.

If only ... I can fantasise about you and me and my partner of 22 years (Oh yes)
being in the same bed, but also having conversations.

If only ... you have a happy and fulfilling life with not too many "down" times.

What I don't regret is not coming while we were together.  Shit, I have come so
many times over the years - what's one more or less.  As I have been writing
this, I have realised what was just a jerk off story at the start has become
something quite different.
--- A lovely memory.  Who says bog queens (I hate that expression) have no
romance in their soul?

And in case anyone thinks I have totally lost the plot, I should point out that
I have cum once again while writing this, and I am planning on yet another
encore in the very near future.  Concerned, yes. Pure?? NOT!!!!
Jim(NZ)

PS - Hands up everyone who thinks this is fiction.  Believe it or not, it is
true - and quite a bit more revealing of me than I intended.  I really don't
give a flying fuck what you think, to be honest.  :)    I have gained something
today which has made this weekend quite special, and whether you believe me or
not is completely irrelevant.   Anyway, you can jerk off at the physical
descriptions, and consign the metaphysical to the scrap heap! :)