I lingered for two or three minutes after the biker zipped up and left. As I exited the woods, I noted the Harley was gone, replaced by a newer model Nissan Maxima. The driver had backed in, so the driver's side was adjacent to mine. The driver had his window down, his elbow resting on the sill.

I offered a “How’s it going?” as I walked between the vehicles.

The driver smiled, answering, “Not bad. Jake and you hook up?” l must have looked perplexed; as he clarified, “The biker, his name is Jake. He’s a friend, of sorts.”

“A friend with benefits?” I laughed.

“Yep, eight inches worth,” as he stuck his hand out the window. “I'm Mark.”

I pumped his hand. “Frank,” I responded.

Mark was a pleasant-looking older gentleman, maybe seventy or so. He was clean-cut looking. His graying blond hair, almost white, was conservatively barbered. He had a pleasant smile with almost too-straight teeth, likely dentures.

His most striking feature was his facial skin. It reminded me of porcelain: milky white, slightly rosy cheeks and no sign of a five o'clock shadow. What came to mind was Ben, a bother-in-law with prostate cancer. After a year of estrogen therapy, he was in remission; but he had the skin of his wife.

Mark dropped his hand down the exterior of the Maxima’s door, inches from the front of my Bermuda shorts. I got the message. I did a three-sixty, then inched toward his beckoning fingers.

Mark rubbed the back of his paw against my bulging fly. I gave him the signal to proceed by humping and grinding my junk against his hand. He got the idea.

Mark rotated his forearm and unzipped my shorts. He wasted no time extricating my junk. He toyed with my semi-erect cock for a few minutes, then pulled his arm and hand back in his car.

“Step back,” he ordered. As I did so, he opened the door forty-five degrees.

I got the message loud and clear. I did another three-sixty (after all, my boner and balls were visible for all to see), then stepped into the V formed by the door and the Nissan. Mark was already leaning down and outward. The last thing he did before commencing his service was to remove his upper and lower plates, placing them in the console’s cup holder.

I went up on my tiptoes slightly and placed my flexed elbows and forearms on the edge of the roof. To a casual passerby, I'd look like someone daydreaming, gazing out at the calm waters of Indian Bay.

Mark got right to work. I couldn't see what he was doing, but it felt mighty good. This was only the second blow job I'd ever had from a guy, but I surmised the absence of teeth made all the difference. In essence, Mark was able to chomp away with reckless abandon.

Mark made satisfied slurpy sounds while he sucked and jerked my Johnson. I could feel one of his hands squeezing the base of my cock and balls. I could imagine how the veins were distended, the shaft purple and swollen.

I guess the added excitement of airing it out in public was affecting me, because I was super ready to spirt. Out of courtesy, I warned Mark that I was close to cumming. Did he want my load in his mouth?

With his mouth full of man meat, he garbled, “Uh-huh.”

It was clear Mark wanted to please me. Without further instruction, he picked up the pace of his jacking and sucking.

I began to buck back and forth, face fucking him. He took it like a trooper, no audible gagging.

Deep in my taint, I began to sense that difficult to describe feeling of either impending doom or ecstasy.

I closed my eyes. I held my breath. I doubled my fists. I stopped bucking, but instead made slow micro-pistoning movements in and out of his warm mouth.

And then I came.

Seemingly in a synchronized fashion; my eyes flew open, I grunted loudly and I humped forward. I spewed rope after rope of hot jizz into Mark’s hungry maw. I could both hear and feel him struggling to handle the volume.

I let Mark catch his breath, as I caught mine. I did my third three-sixty and relaxed my clenched fists. I took a deep breath and savored that post-coital bliss.

Mark seemed to be in no great hurry to return my meat to its lawful owner, but I was getting antsy. Besides, the head of my cock was some kinda sensitive.

I began to slowly inch backward, planning to avoid any further stimulation of my Willy. Mark had other ideas. He clamped down with his toothless gums and milked every last drop of spew from my hose.

I thanked Mark for the wonderful hummer.

His response? “You're very welcome. I enjoyed it. If you also enjoyed it, maybe we could do it again sometime. I'm out here a couple of times a week. If Jake’s here, though, you'll have to wait in line.”