fingers snaked out my hardening prick and exposed it to the cool night air. We continued to kiss as he stroked me for a while, spending more time, it seemed, exploring and admiring my cock with his fingertips than actually attempting to grant me pleasure. The tease of his hand’s motions was more than enough to drive me wild, my cock bouncing and throbbing with desire, lubricating pre-cum coursing from its slit.

And just as surprisingly as his hand had gone to my cock, John left the gazebo’s bench and descended to his knees. Leaning across my lap, he took my rigid pole into his mouth and suckled me gently, bestowing upon my member’s tip a series of feathering flicks of the lips and tongue I’d already deemed to be unnaturally precise in their movements.

His mouth’s incredible combination of pressure and control resulted in my receiving the best blowjob I’d ever been given. My whole body was atwitter with the pulsating sensations John’s majestic lips were driving into me through the conduit of my cock. He was systematic and enthusiastic in the way he went about sucking me off, pumping my shaft in long drawls of his vacuumous mouth while his thick, blunt fingertips stretched and groped my scrotum. The genital sensory overload surged within me the need to explode, and with fair warning, I blasted my seed into the back of his throat.

He swallowed my cum with glee, smiling and thanking me between gulps. When he was finished cleaning off my glistening knob, he rose back to the bench. I sought to repay the favor, but he insisted we head back to his apartment before we proceeded.

I was perfectly content to oblige, and so we were on our way. We barely made it inside the front door before we were tearing at each other’s clothes and smashing our faces and bodies together. We burned away the night exploring each other, and at dawn we dressed and headed down to that little café for a cup of coffee and a pastry.