Hot Wog Boy in Lygon Street

I went walking in the afternoon, for some exercise and some Malaysian food. I was doing the Swanston Street circuit, giving my knees a rest from running. The sun was shining. I ran through the park on the grass, then I walked.

I headed up Lygon Street for an ice cream, lemon and passion fruit gelati. I'm sure it was probably too cold for an ice cream, but the old chick running the place laugh a too-many-cigarettes laugh and said "Nah, I've already had two today."

One could perhaps tell from her girth.



A cute young wog boy in grey track pants was walking up Lygon Street. He had a bag flung over the shoulder of his blue t-shirt. The t-shirt hugged his chest. The track pants hugged his arse, nice it was too. I was just looking back at him, at the bulge in the front of those grey jersey pants, it hung down long and I reckon I could see the head finishing it off, when his eyes met mine.

I think he saw what I was looking at.

Nice eyes. Handsome face. He had nice olive skin tight on his stubbled jawline. He held my gaze. He was keen, I could see that, as his eyes flashed.

I was just out for exercise and some food, that was it, but he sure was cute. And looking keen.

I smiled.

He smiled.

I stopped at a shop window.

He stopped and took the longest time getting his jacket out of his bag.



"Hey," I said.

"Hi," he replied.

"Whatcha up to?" I asked. He seemed a little nervous, but not surprised, not questioning, or quizzical. He knew why I was talking to him, he didn't try to pretend.

He smiled. "Not much. I just finished lectures and I'm heading to Readings."

"RMIT?"

"Yes."

Fuck it, I wasn't going to beat around the bush, I wanted to beat around his bush, for sure. "You're cute."

He blushed. "Thanks. So are you."

"I was just going for a walk, getting some food maybe." I smiled. "But, I just live around the corner."

"Around the corner?" he repeated.

"Yeah. Come back with me."

He looked around, as though he was checking for something. He almost looked hesitant, for a split second I wondered if I had misread him. He shrugged. "Okay. Sure."

We got back to my place, I asked him if he wanted a drink? He shook his head. "No... thanks."



I pulled him to me and pushed my lips onto his as soon as we got in my front door. He hesitated again, but then just kind of let go and his soft lips parted. He tasted sweet, warm, wet.

I pushed him backwards against the kitchen cabinet. I pushed myself onto him, as I kissed him some more. The kid had a big hard dick in no time. I rubbed my thickening cock against his hard on. He moaned. I kept kissing him, he tasted sweet.

I dropped to my knees and reached across to him and rubbed his big, fat cock. He sure had a big cock. I slid his track pants down, they just slid easily, he didn't have the waistband cord tied up. His jocks were filled with his hard dick. I grabbed the shaft and squeezed it in my hand.

"Nice cock."

"Thanks."

I pulled his jocks down and his cock just sprang out at me, thick and hard. I grabbed with a firm grip. It was hot and hard. I sucked the knob into my mouth. He shivered. It was hot and slippery with precum. I sucked the sour taste away. I sucked his shaft down the back of my throat. It is thick in my mouth. He took hold of my head and pushed his cock back into me as soon as I slide my mouth off it. Gag!

Okay, I think I'm up for it.

I pulled the buttons open on my jeans and pulled my cock, hardening up, out of my jocks. I dropped a gob of spit into my fist and rubbed it down my shaft.

He pushed his cock again into the back of my throat, his knob bashed into the back of my neck. Big and thick.

Fuck it felt good, shiny and slippery, I could almost taste the slick shiny.

His shaft slipped backwards and forwards on my lips. His skin was like chamois, smooth, but it was stretched thick over the blood that pumped hard inside him, like a baton.

I sucked him up and down, as I pulled hard on my own cock. He had a great fat cock, seemingly indestructible. He could have beaten smaller guys to death with it, it was so hard.

His balls fitted into the palm of my hand, as though they were made for my fist. I pulled them down, as he shoved his ridged pole back into my mouth.

He jammed it in again and again and again. I was taking a beating.

"OMG!" he said as I sucked on his cock like a starving Ethiopian. "FUCK!" He gasped for breath. "FUCK!" He gasped for breath again. His legs started to shake. His cock went rigid like concrete. Then his knob was all wet and shooting fluid, bitter, rancid tasting fluid. I opened the back of my throat and swallowed. The sour tasting fluid slid down the back of my throat like an oyster.

Fuck it was hot! It didn't take so many jacks on myself to make myself cum after that. I spoofed on the floor in pools of cum.

He kept shoving and shoving and shoving his dick into me, wet and slippery and with that, what I always think of, broken flavour, congealing in my saliva glands and on the taste buds all down my tongue. The sour flavour that I lapped at enthusiastically, dissipated.

His cock dropped and fell out of my mouth with a plop. He sat back against the cupboards. I sat back on my arse nearly in the middle of the kitchen floor.

He pulled his track pants up.

"I've got to go."

"Oh... do you want a drink?"

"No."

"A wash."

"No, I'll be fine." He had his bag over his shoulder and was already a few steps towards the front door.

I saw him out without too many words more. I think a thank you... may be. No, there was.

Truth is I was happy for him to leave. Go. I've got nothing else to say to you. I didn't want him hanging around, making post coitus small talk. Good that he knew, even just seemingly, the order of things. I don't know. He was gone and, you know, that was that. We both got what we wanted.