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Under The Bridge

by Freddy N. Willing


I am a decently looking young man of 19 years plus and, until a few weeks ago, a closet boy. It took a warm almost spring like day here in Las Vegas to change all that and bring me into the mainstream of man and man sex.

You will forgive me, I trust, if I don’t use any place names in this story. After all I still live with my folks and there could well be a neighbor who reads these exotic stories who would be able to trace me to my home.

As I said, it was indeed a great and very early spring day that enticed me to go to one of the local parks for a bit of sun. As you probably have read or seen on the TV the past few weeks have been either wet or cold and usually both so that warm sun on my face and neck made me want to strip off my T shirt and feel it on my back and chest.

As it was early afternoon, I knew that I would not be shocking any old ladies or gentlemen with my lack of modesty. To be sure that I would have privacy, I moved down a winding path that lead me to a large group of trees and some gullies where I figured my watchers would only be birds and squirrels.

While most of Las Vegas is almost flat, there are a few places where rain storms in the past have made what I refer to as gullies and on this path there were a couple of crossings that required a bridge to cross and the park people had provided the necessary bridges by making them rustic and woody by using logs similar to telephone posts. Under the second bridge I was to cross, I noticed some bare feet out in the sun.

I was curious about those feet so I left the path and walked, almost falling a few times, to the bottom of the gully and then made my way towards the bridge. There was enough light under the structure to see that a man, I judged to be at my age or maybe a year older, was enjoying having his feet toasted in the warm sunlight. I made a noise and the man was startled and looks at me with apprehension but the look softened when I greeted him.

“Bet that warm sun feels great,” I said as I gave him my best of manners smile.

“Kinda wish I was barefooted also since it looks so good.”

“Yeah, it does feel good but a hamburger and a coffee would make me feel better all over and not just on my bare feet,” the man’s voice replied and I sensed it was the voice of a person from Mexico even though the words were in perfect English.

I moved closer and I saw that the man lying there before me had a bedroll and a knapsack that gave evidence he was a homeless person who had found the space under that out of the way bridge to be a good spot for some rest. The trousers the man had rolled up were well worn denims and were as unkempt as his shirt that was opened to the waist and showing his brownish skin without any body hair to be seen.

That look of fear returned to his eyes as I lowered my head so I could come into the space he was occupying under the bridge. I saw he had spread some tarp over some newspapers for his bed. A bottle that had held wine was now filled with water. A close inspection of the young man lying there showed he was clean shaven except for a few facial hairs. His black hair was mussed but then he had no way to comb or brush it. All in all, my companion under the bridge was a pretty good looking guy for the condition he was in financially. I felt my cock engorging slightly as I wondered if this good looking man would be willing to give of his self for a few dollars.

Just think for a moment. Here was a man in need of some food who was at least fairly attractive and we were a long ways from anybody who might be in the park for a walk, and there I was, remembering that last night I had struck out on every attempt I had made to join up with some guy for a sex party. Now, do you see my situation? I had a few extra dollars that this guy could use and he had thing under his belt that I would be glad to use for him.

I guess I looked that guy in the eye for over two minutes as his eyes changed from apprehension to questioning to being baffled at my silence.

“Is there something here you want, Mister?” my companion asked me finally and his eyes never left mine as he awaited an answer.

After being in different parts of Mexico in my travels, I knew something that would save both of us a lot of talk and get us to action, if he was willing, almost immediately. “Fellow,” I started, “I am a puto and I will help you get some food if you are willing to let me suck your pinga.” As I spoke, the man smiled and his white teeth made his whole face light up.

“I have not had a cocksucker since I left Nogales a week ago. I can tell you that is harder to not have someone giving my pinga pleasure than it is to be hungry in my stomach. Well, maybe only nearly as hard,“ and then the young man pulled his feet in out of the sun and stretched out on the tarp. “My last cocksucker,” my companion spoke as he unzipped his worn levis, “was a man old enough to be our grandfather and he did it without his false teeth which made up for being as old as he was.” The boy was almost in a laughing jag as he thought of that experience.

“I m sorry,” I had to reply “but I have all my teeth. However, I have not had any complaints about them after my first experience a few years ago.”

My companion had let his pants fall open and was pushing them down to his knees. His once white briefs were now gray and they soon followed his levis. His groin and the appendages attached were mine to do with as I pleased. I used my hand on his cock until I felt it swell as much as it could swell. It felt soft and somewhat silky in my palm. “My name, Buddy, is Raul and I am from Los Angeles born and raised. I just got back from going to Juarez to see my Uncle.”

I licked my lips and said, “Nice to meet you, Raul. My name is Freddy and I live here. You are a very pleasant surprise to find under a bridge.” From then on, I was too busy with my mouth to say much more unless you thing moaning in pleasure is speaking. While I was busy doing my thing, Raul was telling me that he had had many blow jobs before but I was doing as good as the best he had ever had. The boy cautioned me that I should not expect him to reciprocate as a guy’s cock was not appealing to him but he did mention that he could, maybe after that hamburger, get up the strength to give my butt hole a good pounding.

“You will get all the hamburgers and cokes you can handle, Raul,” I took time to tell him and we will be in my workshop at home where we can get you dressed in clean clothes,” I took a breather to tell the man I was servicing under the bridge.

Well, let me finish by saying, when Raul gifted me with his hot soup, we wasted no time getting dressed and going back through the park until we came to a Jack in The Box where Raul had his fill of hamburgers, French fries and coffee while sat there and watched, amazed that anyone could eat as many Jumbo Jacks as my friend. Of course, it goes without saying that Raul had a reason to build up his strength so I did not complain at the bill.


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13 Gay Erotic Stories from Freddy N. Willing

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Under The Bridge

I am a decently looking young man of 19 years plus and, until a few weeks ago, a closet boy. It took a warm almost spring like day here in Las Vegas to change all that and bring me into the mainstream of man and man sex. You will forgive me, I trust, if I don’t use any place names in this story. After all I still live with my folks and there could well be a neighbor who reads these exotic

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