Doug's last day of summer

Doug’s last day of summer.
He heard the howk, and then saw the gob of spit land on the ground just to the
right of his wellies. He’d been – well not really dozing. His eyes were closed
and he had been enjoying the feeling of the sun on his eyelids, the warmth of
the sun on his bare arms and through the overalls he was wearing and the gentle
heat building up in his wellies. It was a great September afternoon. Great
after the summer they’d had as well: all rain and no sun. Now though, it was an
Indian summer and he had come out here to make the most of the afternoon. He
had found a wee corner out of the way, out of the wind too. And so he sat on
the low rocks with larger rocks at his back making a nice suntrap that he was
making the most of. His scruffy bag was down there on the ground at his feet,
on the left and he was just soaking up the sun and its warmth. Ahead of him,
the sluggish waters of the estuary glinted in the sun’s rays in the distance;
closer to hand the light glistened too on the exposed mud flats.

The gob of spit came from the guy who was standing just a few feet away, to his
right, the sun lighting him up as it settled lower in the afternoon sky. He was
a little over six foot, built to match. Scrubby hair matched a couple of days’
growth; more like he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days rather than designer
stubble. The man was wearing black rubber waders and a faded green pair of
overalls – not that different from Doug’s own blue overalls. The man’s hands
were shoved into the slits that gave access to trouser pockets. But by the
looks of things the man wasn’t wearing anything beneath his overalls. Some
chest hair was visible at the top of the overalls where all the buttons weren’t
done up, and it was clear that the man was playing with his cock. The heavy
outline of it was visible through the thin cotton of the old overalls and it
was growing and becoming more solid and erect. The ring at the bell-end was clear
now where the man moved his left hand as he stroked his cock, his right hand
circled tight round his balls and the root of his cock.

Doug smiled; it looked as if he might have some company for the fun he had planned
for this afternoon.

‘Alright,
mate?’

Well the opening salvos were always a bit of the corny side, thought Doug, but hey,
the man was horny and sure looked up for it. Doug felt his own stirrings down
where his own cock was nestled in his tighty-whities, though truth be told they
weren’t strictly ‘white’ within the meaning of the act. Doug had known what he
had planned for this afternoon and so the pants were yellow piss-stained where
there had been fun before. But with the sun still warm and the hunk of man
standing a few feet away playing with his cock, Doug’s own cock gradually
filled and pressed against the soft fabric of his pants before starting to tent
the faded blue overalls.

The
man gave a half-grin of his own. He knew that Doug was hooked even if the
details might take a little negotiation. It was going to be a fun afternoon.

‘Great, mate, great. Rain’s fine for some things – and it can be neat going for a walk
in the rain, but it is nice to have some warm weather for fun before the winter
arrives. Too many layers sort of spoils it, you know?’ Doug knew the rules,
alright; keep the momentum going, with small increases in the hidden meanings.
Not too much too fast so as not to frighten the horses but enough so that they
both knew that there was interest and possibilities were emerging (as well as
other things).

‘Too right!’ the man agreed. His right hand let go of his cock’s bell-end and
appeared out of the slit in his overalls. He rubbed his fingers on the top edge
of his thigh-high waders. ‘You look as if you’re dressed for a bit of fun. You
up for it? A bit of fun like.’

Ah,
the ‘approach direct’, though Doug. Well it sure as hell beat shilly-shallying
around. He flexed his knees, stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed
his welly-encased legs at the ankles. Shifting position drew attention to the
wellies and what they signified and also pushed his packet into full sunlight.
A quick re-adjustment let his cock fill out a little more. ‘Aye, mate, that
would be good; just what I’m looking for, day like to-day. Got a good place in
mind, have you?’

The man smiled again and stepped closed. ‘Yes’, he said. ‘Not far from here. Round
that bank of trees, there.’ He nodded with his shaved head. There’s a small
bay, then another bank of trees that comes down to the high water line. Just
beyond that there’s a space. Mud well up to the high water mark, hidden by all
the trees and scrub. And you can’t get it without walking across a bit of the
mud and so it is out of the way and no one goes there. And there’s a bit of
water that fills every flood so it is easy enough to get cleaned up a bit
before going back to ‘civilisation’. Sound alright? You game for it?’ The man’s
left hand fingered his waders, while his right returned to duty tugging on his
cock, but outside the overalls this time. He moved closer, feet splayed to
either side of Doug’s own feet. Doug could see the traces of dried mud on the
man’s waders. ‘Yeah, I’m good to go.’ Doug stood and moved forward. Standing
between the man’s wader-clad legs, Doug’s right hand stretched forward to grab
the man’s ass. He felt a mound of muscle and pulled the man towards him. Yeah.
About a height and about a size. Their cocks, still trapped in their respective
overalls, mashed against each other. Their mouths sought each other out and
kissed. The man’s arms closed round Doug in a bear hug. After a moment, they
broke apart. ‘Come on then,’ the man said. He turned and moved left towards the
line where the grasses stopped and the mud started at the high water mark. Doug
bent down, grabbed his bag and followed. He was mesmerized by the thick thighs,
filling the black waders, the mounds of muscle, encased in pale green
cotton  flexing as the man strode towards
the mud-line.

‘We’ve
both got boots on,’ the man said; ‘no need to worry overmuch about sticking to
the grass, eh? A taste of things to come!’ He laughed and continued walking
along the mud-line. Here the mud was shallow. It only coated the soles of his
waders and being shallow had drained and dried in the late-September sun. Doug
followed. Each step broke the thin crust of mud and the boots settled each pace
into the thin layer of estuary mud. Now round into the small bay the man had
mentioned, they continued walking on the mud, avoiding the grass. Cutting
across to where the trees and scrubs came right down to the high water mark, it
was quite with only the quiet noises of nature drying out in the sun. The mud
was a little deeper here – only inches though – but there was now enough that
there was a gradual build up over the feet on the waders and the wellies. They
soon came to the point that divided the two little bays. The man stopped and
Doug came to stand right behind him, up close, his wellied foot in between the
man’s waders. It was only a short walk, but the heat of the day and their
exertions enough so that Doug could feel the first trickle of sweat down his
back into the crack of his arse and could feel the heat radiating from the man
in his thin cotton overalls. The next bay was not so large but ran deeper
inland. The expanse of mud was clearer, with no rocks or stones and extended
flat back to the deep indentation where the trees and bushes started, an
impenetrable wall of greenery, with the top leaves of some trees starting to
change colour. It was secluded, though the autumn sun still reached back to the
trees.

‘No one comes here. Well, only people like us!’ Doug kneaded the solid muscle of
the man’s ass and pulled him back towards him. ‘Come on, let’s do it properly!’
the man said and started forward into the mud-flat. Doug followed him. The mud
was getting deeper. Each step was more of an effort. The man, in his waders,
was able to keep a more fluid stride going, lifting and sliding through the
mud, rather than the more precise ‘lift, clear the mud, forward and then back
down’ that Doug was having to accomplish. Still Doug was able to keep up mostly
as the man made his way deeper into the mud and away from the brackish water
behind them, moving to the middle of the little bay. The man’s carefree
stompings meant that the mud was gradually making its way higher and higher up
his waders. ‘Sexy’ thought Doug.

The
man stopped and half turned. The mud was just about up to his knees. He was
moving the feet of his waders to stir up the mud and to make it fluid. Doug
moved in close. He cupped his hand round the man’s large cock and squeezed. ‘Oh,
yes!’ escaped through the man’s parted lips in a whisper as he bent round and
sought Doug’s own mouth. They kissed hungrily, forcefully, their tongues
seeking out the warm wet interior of the other. Doug could feel the mud closing
back round his feet and ankles as his wellies settled into the mud. The man
broke away from the kiss and looked Doug in the eyes. He used his hands to
spring the popper-fastenings on Doug’s overalls and catching glimpse of Doug’s
piss-stained pants, smiled briefly and said: ‘Kinky.’ Doug didn’t really have
time to say anything in reply as the man started tweaking one nipple with one
hand, sucking on the other with his warm wet mouth and was rubbing Doug’s cock
through the yellowed briefs. The man took a couple of steps backwards. Doug
kept pace and pulled the man’s own overalls apart. As Doug had worked out, no
pants, and the man’s cock with its bell-end ring sprang up, free at last. The
man’s cock was hard but it got harder as Doug pulled it and ran his thumb over
the clearly sensitive bell-end, gently scraping with his nail along the ridge
now free and clear of the man’s foreskin. The deep moans from the man showed
that Doug was doing the needful. His own cock was pushing hard against the
elastic waist-band of his pants. Reaching down a little further the man hooked
the waist-band with his thumb down and behind Doug’s balls so that his cock was
now, too, free and upright. The man broke off and stood back. ‘You got some
piss?’ he asked. ‘If you have, I want it.’ Doug felt the man’s warm wet mouth
close round his hard cock. This is going to be hard he thought; it is never
easy pissing through a hard cock and even more difficult when there is a hunk
hanging off the end of it. ‘Still nothing ventured nothing gained,’ Doug thought.
He looked up at the clear, Carolina-blue sky and arched his hips forwards. He
closed his eyes. He felt the man move, his mouth taking more and more of Doug’s
cock into its warm wet embrace. Doug closed his eyes and concentrated on
relaxing those sphincter muscles. It would take a while he knew, but he had
tanked up before coming out – pot of coffee and what amounted to several litres
of water. It was in there; Doug just had to encourage it to come out. The man’s
tongue was doing little figures of eight round and round the head of his cock
but he knew to leave the piss-slit alone. It would come. Give it time.

Doug felt the pressure building up from his bladder and passing down his cock. The
point now was to keep the flow going. Thinking of waterfalls and flowing taps,
Doug opened his eyes and looked down. The man had stopped the tongue patterns;
just as well Doug doubted if he could have kept the flow going as well. He saw
the man wasn’t just bent down to suck the piss out of his cock. He was kneeling
down in the mud and the silt was up round the top of his waders. Some of the
mud was on his overalls, making them stick to the body underneath. Doug
shuffled forward a pace. He felt the mud surge over the tops of his own wellies
and start to pool on the inside as the rivulets worked their way down past his
sea-boot socks. The man settled lower onto his haunches. Doug knew that now the
mud was up round his ass and must be cradling his hard dick. ‘Keep the flow
going,’ though Doug but it was hard with the thoughts of the wet mud rising
round the dick and arse of the man kneeling at his feet. The pressure falling,
it was clear that there wasn’t much piss left. The man let some of the hot,
steamy piss escape from his mouth to run down his chin and onto his hairy chest,
where gravity eventually drew it down to the mud. ‘That’s almost your lot,’
said Doug. The man clamped his lips back round Doug’s petering cock and held
Doug’s piss in his mouth. A final spurt, then the man let Doug’s hard dick go,
and stood, the mud falling away from his cock and arse, though both were well
covered with the wet, sticky mud. Gobs of mud slid from the man’s waders as he
stepped closer to Doug, tugging on his cock, tweaking his tit and ready to pour
some of Doug’s own piss back into his mouth in a slobbery, soppy kiss. Their
tongues fought, but as Doug reached forward and grabbed the man’s mud-spattered
cock and started working it, the man pushed forward and grunted: ‘Oh, yeah,
man. Pull on my cock. Make me come!’

Doug
grasped the hot muddy cock and worked it backwards and forwards, now running
his thumb against the glans, nudging the heavy cock-ring, then using his
fingers to circle and trap the muddy balls. The stick of Doug’s piss rose
between them, then the man locked his knees and leant forward. ‘I’m gonna
shoot, man!’ he grunted as his cock went rigid and hot his hot spunk came searing
out. The gobs of stringy white cum landed on Doug’s belly and cock. Doug
thought that maybe that was that, but as the man’s breathing returned to
normal, he bent down and went to work on Doug’s cock again. ‘Let’s see you
shoot!’ the man said as he worked over Doug’s cock and balls with this pissy,
mud-spattered hands. ‘Gotta see you come, before I hose you down with piss!’
the man stepped closer, one muddy wader on either side of Doug’s right leg.
Doug’s overalls now were well muddy too. He felt the usual tightness in his own
cock as the man slide his muddy hands further back and into Doug’s briefs,
forcing his cock up and forward. The man leant forward, breathing ‘Come on,
man, you can do it!’ before enveloping Doug’s willing mouth in a hot wet snog.
The stench and the hand and mouth and mud were enough to push Doug finally over
the edge. His hard cock began to spasm and his cum started pumping from the end
of his cock to land on the end of the man’s dick. ‘Yeah, man, that’s fucking
ace! Keep it pumping.’ As Doug came down from the orgasm and the last spurt of
cum came from his dick, the man used a muddy hand to hoist his own swelling
dick once more and the stream of piss hit Doug’s belly and started running down
his cock. The man laughed and rubbed his other muddy hand under the stream of
piss where it mixed and ran down Doug’s ass and legs, soaking away into his
overalls and pooling in his wellies.

Shaking
the end of his cock as the stream died, the man stood back and grinned. ‘Good
way to end the summer eh?’