so I eased him back and held his cock with both hands while he pinned me back with his hands on my shoulders. His cock was uncut and I pulled his foreskin up and down and held his balls while I did so. He was also about 7” and I could get both hands around it. He slid back into his own seat and leaned over and took me in his mouth and went right down until I felt myself deep in his throat. This man was an expert. I had hit the jackpot!

Sitting up quite suddenly, he said, “We go home, Ja?” I was just a trembling body, devoid of thought processes and incapable of making any independent decision! I nodded. I just wanted to leap out of the car, strip him naked, and run my hands and cock all over him. Lick him, suck him, thrust my cock between his legs, wank him and fuck him!

He grinned, adjusted himself, started the car and swung back onto the track and back to the road. He held my cock one last time before I got myself back together and we drove some miles to his home town, not much more than a large village close to Munich. As we approached he said, “I have friend here, OK?”

“A friend?” I questioned.

“Ja. We make three, OK?”

I gulped. Struggled to get my brain back. It was still in my cock as I had been rubbing his thigh and imagining our coupling as we drove to his home.

“OK?” he said.

“A friend?” I said again.

“Ja, we make three.” he repeated. “You like to make three?” In my fantasies I had, but never in reality. He obviously knew all about it. “OK?” he said again. My brain was racing and still I didn’t answer. He rubbed my thigh. “We have fun, it’s OK. You don’t make three before?” I had only ‘made two’ a couple of times or so.

He shot me another of his great grins and I surrendered. What the hell? “JA!” I shouted, loud, into the wind that the car eddied around us. “JA!” It was a very nervous, yet exultant shout. Yes, Yes,Yes! My gut was saying, while my head reeled.

He laughed at me and shouted back, “JA! O - K!” He grabbed my thigh and then my crotch. He took in my face that must have expressed many emotions and reassured me with a wide smile and said again, “It’s OK, we make fun.” He pulled into a narrow lane next to an old, neat cottage on the outskirts of the village.

“Come!” he said, as he climbed out. I opened the car door and stepped out, taking in the cottage and surroundings, though all was a bit of a blur in many ways. He waited while I came around the front of the car and he took my right arm firmly and looked into my eyes. “Come”, he repeated, and opened a small gate that led into a back garden, kempt, though almost overgrown with shrubs and flowers and a heady scent hung in the air. He stopped, turned to me and gave a low chuckle, “Your name?”

“Curtis.” I said. “Curtis”, repeating it, like an echo, as if I was suddenly recognizing who I was. I wondered if I should have given him a made up name.

“Ah! Curtis”, he said. “Yes”. “Rolf,” he