Date: Mon, 7 Sep 2015 22:23:12 +1200
From: Ben Highlander <dampies1960@gmail.com>
Subject: Scratching That Itch 3

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Well, now that you know how I came to appreciate dick, you have to know
that I spent almost every waking moment since then daydreaming about my
next encounter with somebody who would be in possession of that most
wonderful of all instruments of pleasure, or how to meet such a person. Or
specifically, man.

Gabe and I hooked up a few more times and every time it was a mind-altering
experience, as it was the first time. But my need quickly overcame Gabe's
ability to provide me with my fix, and I knew that I would have to start
searching further afield. Thanks be to godd for the wonder of the cruising
app. That changed my life: I was like a kid in a candy store, but quickly
learned that the pool was so limited as to be more or less ankle deep at
best. Guys were so picky.

"No face pic, no chat."

Well, what the fuck's that about? I'm married and I'm not going to put my
picture out there for everybody to see until I more or less knew that my
wife wasn't going to be hearing of my extra-curricular activities. And then
some even took exception to my "discreet" status. Self-righteous gays took
it upon themselves to question how I could live with myself, being
unfaithful to my wife by hooking up with men. As if I didn't berate myself
enough for that simple fact. But I was hooked so there was no going back,
regardless of how much I tried to resist the temptation that strutted down
every sidewalk and in every mall, sat in every pew and wore every school
uniform.

But I quickly realised that there was a serious shortage of the one thing
that I craved: a top. Gabe was right, I was a bottom boy and the fact that
I could give my wife a good rogering meant I didn't just want to swop a
female hole for a male hole. And the same went for most men. If you've ever
been through the app cruising experience, you know it goes something like
this:

"Hey"

"Hey, what's up?"

"Nm, you?" (Not much, you)

"Same. What you looking for" (duh?)

"Hookup"

"top/btm?"

And this is where it usually went bad. Most men were vers (versatile) at
best, which as you know, meant they'd prefer a dick up their poophole but
were prepared to get it up to do the fucking because if they didn't it
seriously limited their options. Yeah, believe it or not, most gay men
wanted to be fucked. The serious dearth of tops was a problem that soon
became apparent to me.

And you'd think that if you found a bisexual or even a straight male that
plays with men (there are some) that they'd want to be active but no, they
use women for that. When they hook up with men, most of them want something
stiff in the rear end—and having experienced the joy of that role, I could
only concur that it was preferable.

The games on Grindr were also quite tiresome. The conditions and
limitations each guy had, made it possible to sift through possibilities,
it's true, but with such a limited pool of people in any given area, it
soon lost its charm.

Being married also proved to be an obstacle in ways that I didn't
anticipate. Besides having to be careful of being outed by not being
discreet enough, it also meant that I didn't have anywhere to hook up
safely and comfortably unless my partner could provide the ubiquitous
"venue". So I was generally constrained to meeting guys in toilets or on
the odd occasion that things played out as they did in the last chapter
with Gabe, venue remained a problem.

Initially I also considered trying to find a regular fuck buddy, but soon
realised that this wasn't a situation that was easily achieved. Most men
are simply too horny to remain `faithful' to one buddy and I wasn't
prepared to endanger my wife's health by exposing myself to trusting
somebody just because he said he was safe. I was shocked a few times when,
a supposedly `safe' partner would admit that they went with the flow and "
*mostly* didn't bb" (bareback—fuck without a condom). "Mostly? What good is
that? Once is enough and then there's no going back.

To make matters worse, I was discovering a deeper itch, as I mentioned
before. What I mean by that is that I was no longer satisfied to be only
fucked; I was silently beginning to yearn to be loved by a man. A strong,
silent giant that would make me feel safe and loved, haunted my dreams. He
would hold me in his arms and I would know that the world was as it should
be. When my dream self saw him I felt complete. I never saw his face, but
he was always huge and protective.

This was disturbing to me to say the least. I had always considered myself
to be a straight man with a curious side. Then, when I had sucked my first
cock and swallowed the delicious cum, and felt a thick tool up my bum, my
illusions were shattered. Something deep and primal overcame the protests
that I tried to make to justify why I felt the way I did. I didn't even
question whether I might be gay or bisexual. I just knew that I was made to
worship dick and that was that.

But this further development cast a quite different shadow over my life and
I wasn't sure what the implications would be for my future. Where would my
wife fit in? Did it mean that I would have to leave her? Did it mean that I
would have to go through what I was discovering to be the extremely
perilous journey of finding a man that would love me and stay faithful to
me for the rest of my life, and risk losing what I considered a very good
relationship with my wife?

I tried not to think of it too much and sought to plug the leak in my
psyche by filling the hungry cavity in my posterior.

It was in an effort to achieve just that, that I had met up with my
handsome young stud in chapter 1. After that wonderful experience I had
been loath to spoil the memory with him by hooking up with anybody else.
For the first time in many months, I had gone several weeks without making
an effort to find somebody to scratch my itch. Maybe it was my imagination
but I had felt a connection that I hadn't experienced since my first
unexpected hookup with Gabe.

What's more, the faceless lover in my dreams now had a face, and spoke
Afrikaans when he spoke words of love and comfort to me. It puzzled me how
I could attach such significance to a man who was clearly so much younger
than I was. It was extremely unlikely that he would be capable of, much
less interested in playing the dominant or securing role in a relationship
with a man 20 years his senior. And it wasn't as if I was fem or something.
I was a normal masculine man.

Oh crap, what's the point of mulling it over anyway? I had looked for him
on Grindr again and again, and had never seen him. I concluded that he must
have been passing through on his way to one of the larger cities north or
south of where I now lived with my family.

In the meantime life went on as usual. Having recently moved to a new
country from South Africa, we were all adjusting. I had the better time of
it because I was (or had been) assertively searching out new company in the
form of one night stands, none of them which could, by definition, lead to
any friendships. Even the one guy that I knew who lived in the same town as
us, refused to allow us to be seen together because he thought it was just
too risky. Who was I to argue anyway?

But my daughter really struggled. She was shy by nature and the tiny town
where we found ourselves had lots of young people, but they only came out
at night and frequented the local bar. She rightly felt that it would be
suspect if she went to the bar by herself even though it was less than 100m
from our front door and even the thought of me taking her out for a drink
was enough for her to almost have a stroke.

So she was reduced to either staying at home, or attending a youth type
event at the local church with her cousin who lived just down the road from
us. I was just too glad that she finally did something to alleviate her
chronic boredom, so I encouraged her. Much to my surprise she arrived home
later looking decidedly excited and I knew better than to ask, since it
would only start a fight. I knew her mother would let me in on the details
later.

Of course, I was right. When we turned in for the night I couldn't contain
myself any longer.

"What was Abby so excited about?"

"She really had a good time tonight. She met quite a few nice kids.
Apparently not what you'd expect at a church youth group. They were fun and
outgoing and not boring at all."

"I'm really glad. I was worried she would be disappointed and that we would
be back to Square One."

"Me too. But the best news of all is that there seems to be a young guy
that caught her interest."

"Are you serious? I thought she was much too picky to like anybody that
wasn't perfect. Tell me about it."

"I would if I could. She wouldn't say much, but I've learnt to interpret
what she says. When I asked her if she met any nice guys, after all the *`oh
moms'* she did admit that there was maybe one that didn't totally suck."

"Coming from her, that's high praise! Will we meet him?"

"Yeah, sure, as soon as hell freezes over. I'd want to see where this goes
before I would ring the wedding bells."

"I suppose so. She's just so lonely. I really hope for her sake that she'll
meet a nice guy that she could have some fun with."

"Don't hold your breath."

I put the light off and kissed my wife goodnight. I was tempted to make
love to her but the face of my dream lover kept on floating into view so I
rather surrendered to dreamland to meet up with him.

The next morning my daughter was more cheerful than usual. She hadn't been
entirely happy with our move to a new country. She had left behind all her
friends and if you knew Abby, you would know that she didn't make friends
easily. As a result she had been blue for quite some time and to see her a
bit more like her old self was encouraging. I knew better than to say
something so I just enjoyed the welcome reprieve.

Later on it became clear what the cause for the good mood was. Apparently a
group of the kids she met at the youth group had invited her to go and have
drinks with them. I inquired whether it was normal for "church youth" to go
drinking and was told that youth is a loose term, since apparently even
young adults up to the age of about 25 were inclined to attend. Well, I
determined to not look a gift horse in the mouth and encouraged her to
enjoy herself. When a group of "kids" swung by later to walk to the pub
together, I was having a quick shower so I didn't see who was there.

Although I had not felt like hooking up with anybody of late, I was
beginning to feel the lack of cock. Nobody that is unaccustomed to being
fucked regularly will understand the hunger. It will make you do stupid
things, like endanger your relationships to take time out to go out and
meet somebody who will scratch your never-ending itch.

Since my wife had some scrapping she wanted to do, and I didn't feel like
watching TV I decided that I would go for a walk. Behind our little town is
a little hillock with a lovely road that had some biking trails branching
off it, and it is there I headed. I didn't particularly have in mind to
pick somebody up but I would be lying if I said that I didn't fantasize
about meeting some rugged New Zealand farmer off for a solitary evening
stroll with his sheep dog.

I usually stuck to the main path, as I didn't know what windy route the
smaller trails would take me—and how long the walk would last as a result.
But this time I was determined to at least have an outdoor wank if nothing
else, as the danger of being discovered would in some small measure make up
for the lack of cock that I was experiencing.

It was still early enough to be light. The sun set at about 9pm in the
summer and it was only about 7.30pm. There were quite a few people walking
in the sweet sunset and I wondered whether it was such a good idea to try
and catch a quick jerk in the woods with so many octogenarians on the
loose. The only consolation was that I was pretty sure they would avoid the
bike paths because they were too steep and rough and I was most likely not
going to be disturbed there.

I took the first one because I thought that it would most likely be the
longest. I wasn't in the mood to see anybody. There was a hunger that was
eating me up from the back upwards. Where normally a cock would lead the
way, there was only a dumb silence—a mute testimony to a dickless cavity.
Yeah, I know I sound melodramatic. I am feeling that way.

New Zealand has no snakes, but it has spiders everywhere. In the twilight I
had to duck to avoid the webs that festooned the bushes and trees. I was
lightly dressed but soon I was working up a sweat from the steady uphill
climb. The little trail wound crazily through low hanging bushes and I
wondered when I would reach a space where it would be broad enough to stand
and whip out my dick.

I was just beginning to lose patience and consider turning around and going
home when a twist in the road revealed a neat little nook with a largish
rock, which was just big enough for me to sit on. The woods were hushed
around me as I sat down and just took in the silence. The bird life wasn't
abundant but at that time the birdsong was beautiful. I felt at peace and
relaxed slowly, and as a result I felt that my cock was getting hard. I had
thin, soft sweat pants on, so my crotch area had lots of play. The rock was
quite low, so as I sat I could feel the hardness of the rock—particularly
one rough knot on the surface—tantalize my asshole. I wriggled my hips to
try and scratch the itch that I had allowed to develop there over the last
few weeks of abstinence.

I was desperate to have something in there so I decided to take my sweats
down and at least stick a thumb in to alleviate the desperate hunger that
tortured me.

I stood up and looked around carefully to make sure I wasn't being
observed, and then loosened the drawstring. I pulled the elastic away from
my abs, taking the waist of my undies with it and looked at my grateful
cock that sprang free. Then I slid my jocks and sweats down together,
revealing my butt to the cool evening air.

I licked my index finger and leaned forward to gain access to my ravenous
hole from the back. While I palmed my cock from the front I bent over and
stroked over my hole, making small noises of appreciation and craving. I
pulled my hand to my nose and appreciatively sniffed at my finger. The
earthy masculine smell I found there made my mouth water. I then sucked at
it, savouring the blandness of the ass taste I found. Not being satisfied
with the teasing of my forefinger, I slobbered over my thumb, getting it
ready to enter my asshole. I knew this was more of a logistical challenge,
but I was so frantic to fulfill the promise of the earlier stimulation that
I was prepared to give it a go. I mentally kicked myself for not bringing a
dildo to shove up my hungry hole.

I leaned back and found my hole with my thumb, straining to push it in at
the uncomfortable angle. I groaned with appreciation as it entered me and
despite the discomfort of the odd position, it at least felt good.

"That looks good there, mate," a deep voice with a Kiwi accent commented
and I hastily extracted my thumb from my behind and swung round, pulling my
pants up as I did so.

I was faced with a ruggedly handsome red headed man with sharp, humorous
eyes and luscious lips framed by his full, ginger beard. He stood about
three meters away from me. He had managed to walk into the clearing without
alerting me. He wore a short sleeved, open necked shirt that allowed the
ginger fur on his chest to bubble out, and shorts above woolly socks that
ended just below his knees. His feet sported rough work shoes and the
exposed part of his legs was similarly furry. A wicked smile slid naughtily
off to the left.

I struggled to redo the drawstring of my sweats, embarrassment colouring my
face and ears. For some obscure reason I turned my back on him, hiding my
fumblings from him although I had just given him a view of my hairy hole
with my thumb up it.

"No, mate, don't do that," he admonished and stepped up to me, placing his
hairy hand on my hip, and I could feel a hard, oblong object prod my one
ass cheek.

"You're a real picture out here in the woods with your pretty rear end in
the breeze. Let me help you to scratch that itch of yours. I have just the
ticket."

He stepped directly behind me and put the rough palm of his huge
work-hardened hand on my behind, easily cupping the melon-shaped glute in
it.

"Godd, no, this is so embarrassing, I've got to get back home," I replied,
my face flooding with shame once again.

"No worries, mate, every man knows what it feels like to need some
attention from something stiff. Let me help you out—I wager you'll like
what I've brought along with me for the job," he said and lightly slid his
cock across the smooth material of the sweats that covered my rear. He was
right. It felt from this angle as if it was particularly suited to
satisfying my hunger and I felt my resolve weaken and my embarrassment
abate somewhat.

"Why don't you check out my takle and see if it meets with your approval?"
he murmured languidly and turned me around and looked me lazily in the
eyes. There was a bit of late golden afternoon sunlight that stippled
through the forest above us and it caught him in the face. He had golden
eyes, with flecks of green and navy that peppered the irises and drew me
into their depths. He took my hand and led it to his crotch. He pushed the
back of it into his groin and rubbed it up and down the pole that nestled
there like a truncheon.

"Ya like to kiss, pretty boy?" he asked in the same mesmerizing tone and I
could only nod mutely. His words, laced as they were with his Kiwi accent
were like an incantation designed to produce a horny stupor.

"Mind if I take a quick peck? Ya got real pretty lips for a man."

I shook my head from side to side, drowning in the golden depths of his
eyes, and his breath, which had the faint smell of beer, rustled the beard
around his mouth. He was a full head taller than me and as he leaned
forward to kiss me, the locks of bright red hair that weren't restrained by
the green woolen cap that perched on his head, fell forward to tickle my
cheek. His gaze held mine as he inched closer, the epitome of masculine
beauty and strength, until his lips touched mine.

"So, glad I took this wee detour, are you?" he breathed into my mouth. He
cradled my chin in his big hand guided himself towards me like a ship
docking into a berth.

I moaned my `yes' as his lips touched mine. As I breathed in I could smell
his beard, like straw and forest, and as he opened his mouth and his soft
lips melded with mine, I tasted his beer breath and the sweet indefinable
taste of a sexy, self assured man.

We traded spit for a while and he took charge of my mouth and kissed me so
thoroughly that I felt my knees buckle. He caught me in his strong arm and
scooped me towards him.

"Ya like a strong man, don't ya, mate? I can see that ya really appreciate
a sturdy farm lad. Wait until ya see my equipment."

He pushed me gently to my knees. I was at face height with his work-soiled
shorts and I caught a whiff of his farm-freshness.

"Go ahead, be my guest, he won't bite," he joked and put his hand behind my
head, pulling me in to connect with his bulging groin area. I lifted a hand
and slid it in the bottom of his work shorts and felt my way up towards his
trouser snake, which was straining to escape the confines of his
underpants. I worked my hand in the leg of the undergarment and found his
balls filling out the confines of his underpants very substantially. I
played with them in his shorts for a bit, blindly appreciating the heavy
hairiness.

"Let's get to it mate, I fancy feeling your hot mouth on my knob. Ya don't
mind, do ya?"

He gently pushed my head back and swiftly loosened the top and remaining
buttons of his shorts and pushed them down, stepping out of them in short
order. A healthy bush of electric red pubic hair was visible above the line
of his workman's undies.

I didn't hesitate to pull down the elastic and out lunged the biggest,
veiniest, pale horse dick I had ever had the privilege to encounter. I
caught my breath and just put my hand under the thick trunk to bring it to
face level, since gravity was winning the fight to stay upright. The pout
formed by the thick foreskin around the rose-coloured tip, collected clear
precum that begged to be sipped. I complied.

I stuck my tongue out and licked the tip of the majestic monster.

"Ya like what ya see?" my red headed lover asked redundantly, as I opened
wide and feasted on the best present since my gift to myself of an 8 inch
dildo for my birthday. I vainly tried to nod and suck at the same time so I
pulled my head back and for the first time expressed a preference.

"Please don't waste any time. Fuck me."

"I couldn't have said it better myself. Get up and bend over so I can do
the honours."

I didn't delay. I spat on my hand and leaned back to work some into my
hole. He did the same from his side. I was a bit scared that he would split
me open with that ginger pole. It was bigger than any real cock I'd had up
me but I was determined to do the beauty justice.

My top positioned his flagpole at my rear and after finding the hole,
pushed. I felt as if I would split in half, but I had long since realised
that I was built for this, so I focused on pushing back and sure enough it
slid in with a satisfying feeling of fullness and a satisfied groan from my
penetrator.

"Fuck, mate, you're a pro at taking it up the chute. Never fucked a man
before but you might just swing me!"

He pulled out and I felt my intestines resume their normal position in the
absence of the ginger baseball bat that vacated the premises. I needn't
have worried: he pushed it back and the stretch in the walls of my anus was
deeply gratifying. And to boot, I had a talker.

"Ay, fuck, mate, ya have a really hot bugger-hole. Ya like, this farm boy
to give ya a good rogering?"

"Yeah, give it to me, you fucking hunk," I found myself responding. He had
his right hand on my shoulder to pull me into him and his left around my
waist, holding onto my cock, which was slippery with my precum.

"Yah have a tasty cunt, to be sure, sexy man. Ya were made for this, to be
used by a strong man like meself," he said while picking up the pace. He
had a steady rhythm going and I knew that I might be here until dark or
later.

"Slowly does it, no good in spilling the beans before the time is right,
now, is it?" he confirmed my glorious suspicions. I had found that many
tops couldn't keep it up before cumming too soon, by far, and I had to
bring myself off manually.

"I'm going to fuck the spunk right out of your pretty little pussy, trust
me," he answered my unasked question.

"No need for ya to be putting a hand to your little pricklet."

The long, thick love-truncheon slid in and out, in and out, with a
determination that promised an explosive climax. I had my hand against the
bole of a thick tree that stood at the edge of the small clearing.

He'd been quiet for a while in concentration, so I found myself saying, "Do
you like fucking a man, handsome farm-boy?"

"Ya look good from this angle, with my tool disappearing up your pooper,
city boy," he managed through his efforts, which seemed to be testing the
limits of even his farm-fitness. But I was mistaken, as he picked up the
pace and seemed to go deeper into me, finding spots that I never knew
existed.

I felt the inexorable tinglings of my orgasm begin to crawl up my thighs,
and couldn't contain myself anymore.

"Oh, fuck, farm-boy, I'm going to shoot all over this tree," I all but
shouted.

"Well, then its time to flood your city-boy guts with my wholesome milk,
now isn't it?"

His thrusting increased in urgency and depth, and suddenly it felt like my
balls wanted to climb out of my cock. His pole hit my prostate like a
jackhammer and I absently wondered how a straight man knew how to do that.
His vocalisations lost coherence and he started to growl deep in his throat
and with a last, superhuman thrust that punctuated the peak of my
preparation for ejaculation, we squirted our juices simultaneously.

"Take-that-city-boy," he said in rhythm to his last thrusts and pulled me
back into his embrace and kissed and then bit my neck. I didn't care about
marks at this point and welcomed the pain of the love-bites in a symphony
of ecstasy.

All at once he rapidly pulled out and flung me around and pushed me up
against the tree, attacking my lips with a hunger and desperation of a
starved man.

"By godd, sexy city-boy, you've shown me the error of me ways," he
whispered into my mouth. He sucked my tongue and we slurped at each other's
mouths and faces with an unfettered desperation.

"You've unleashed a man-hunger in me loins," he growled and ravished my
mouth with his bearded lips.

"Next time, I want you to show me what it feels like to play receiver. Give
me your phone."

I did as he asked and he typed his name and number into my device. Then he
took a handkerchief out of his pocket and turned me around again and wiped
me clean. Then he proceeded to clean himself up, pull his pants up, and
with a wink, disappeared into the forest. I wondered whether I would see
him again. I could call him if I wanted to.

I had a feeling I would.

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