I was visiting my mum by the seaside on a late autumn/early winter day of limited warmth and light. Everything was quite sombre in the wake of my father's recent funeral. The large house still had much of his personality in it, shelves of old books - The War Years and many other austere works mixed with some good poetry and prose, lots of old touring maps.

We talked a while about sorting out financial affairs and other practicalities over a pot of Earl Grey tea.

I said I would take a quick walk along the shore before the light faded, and headed off at a good pace along the sand dunes in a stiff breeze. I was quite deep in thought about life in general.

Few people were around by the time I reached the car park by the old swimming pool & toilets. I went into the gents for a pee and found I was not alone there. At the other end of the open trough-type urinal was an older gent. I went about my business with some relief, and noticed that his coat was open to reveal his cock being massaged gently. He looked along in my direction, then down at my own cock.

I was in a sort of motionless state, though could feel a sense of excitement as my own cock started to harden a little. At the sight of this, he moved up beside me and stretched his right hand over to caress my cock, which gave me a new sensation and a shortage of breath. Almost in a trance, I let him massage my cock until within a few minutes it exploded into life with a jet of thick cream hitting the side of the urinal. He moved away, unconcerned, went outside and lit a cigarette. I looked down to see that I was probably not the first that day to experience his expert sensual touch. I left with a brief nod of appreciation and a pleasurable feeling of relief. I knew these places could be worth another visit, however out of character it seemed for me. It brought back memories of various brief encounters in earlier years before family life responsibilities had needed so much attention.

Within a month or so I found myself back in the same territory several times, mainly just watching what was going on, seeing that a regular stream of visitors dropped in there hopefully.

I chanced to be in again when this time a younger, taller dark-haired man was to my left as I looked along. His large cock was totally erect, and there were no pretenses. When I saw it, my own stiffened up, and he moved beside me to take my own cock in his smooth hand for what I thought would be a repeat of my last experience. Not so, he asked if he could suck me - again I was breathing shallowly, and anticipated a new sensation for the first time. He was obviously an expert at his art, and sucked slowly along my shaft, right down to my balls.

I don't normally come quickly during sex, but in these situations it is probably best not to linger. I pulled back to signal that I was about to ejaculate, but he said that was fine and he wanted it in his mouth. No sooner had he resumed sucking than it let go a continuous spurt of cream which he gently held on to until my cock went soft. I stood back, a little worried that someone may come in. He did not actually swallow my juices, but swirled them round in his mouth like tasting a fine whiskey, and spat them out into the trough, resuming his original position at the wall. I wrote down my mobile number, gave it to him and said thanks, then left. It was, I thought, like a sticky spider's web promising both pleasure and a certain element of risk to those who ventured into the male underworld to explore their sexuality.

For a long while after that, things went back to near normal, with an added fantasy element about male encounters. Approaching retirement, though still very fit through cycling & running, my latest ambition was a six-pack for 60. Long summer days in the north lend themselves to peak performance.

On one of my trips, I was approaching a deserted picnic area outside a village with a public loo still open.

As I parked my bike at the side and did a couple of leg stretch exercises, I saw another racing bike round the back with no rider in sight. I went in and was surprised to see an older tall lycra-clad gent pulling up his breeks round his bare arse. Apologising I went about my business as he left.

There is something about the glancing look of `recognition` that clicks in the mind from previous encounters.

Continuing on the cycle route, I caught up with him walking his racer, and asked if there was a problem. He said no, just enjoying the warm sea breeze on his open-fronted top; so I walked with him, introducing myself. Jon was in his early seventies & pretty fit at that. We got to talking about lycra wear and how awkward it can be in such places when you need to piss. Jon said he did not mind who saw him. I replied that I was a bit shy about such things.

Remounting bikes, we started to climb inland until we reached the shade of the country park woodland where we stopped for a drink by one of the streams, relaxing into the long grass. Jon went for a pee, dropping his lycra shorts to reveal an ample-sized, clean-shaven cock, with his hand lingering on it longer than needed when he saw me watching.

My own shorts were bulging when he came back, and he put his hand on the bump which then hardened to a full erection. We were out of sight of the main path, so I let him continue as it felt great being massaged.

I stroked his own erection through the lycra, and we shared a mutually pleasurable `rest`. Neither of us came, though I was closest. However, there was some distance left to cycle so we set off again a little hot between the legs. Another 20 miles and we were back in Paisley.

Jon stayed nearby and said that I could stop off for a shower at his place and a cup of tea. It was an offer too good to refuse, as I could catch a train home, and perhaps complete my quest for being serviced by a friendly cock.

In the sitting room, Jon had switched his telly on, and there was a good DVD playing with a mmf bisexual threesome going for gold.

I went to have a quick shower and was soaping myself down when Jon came in to share the tiny space, and continued his massaging technique, which was only going to end in one thing. I could now feel the full size of his member hard against my backside while his hand was wrapped around my own. He turned me round and knelt down to suck my cock, which took me to the edge. I motioned that I wanted to return the favour and we exchanged places. It was my first mouthful of real cock, warm and wet. I licked the shaft and put my mouth around each ball in turn, then sucked away on the hooded head for what seemed like ages.

We went back through to the couch as I said I wanted to feel his cock inside me. Jon produced some lube, and I bent over the seat while he rubbed it on to my butt-hole and pushed his thumb inside with more. He tried to push the head of his cock past my sphincter, but our positioning was too awkward, so he sat on the couch with his well-lubed cock bolt upright and motioned me over. 

After one or two unsuccessful attempts sitting on the shaft, he turned me round to face him with my legs spread wide and my balls resting on his stomach. I felt myself opening, then it was inside me, and I could concentrate on my own cock being massaged to perfection. It did not take long before my balls started to tighten and my creamy cum shot onto Jon's chest and hand - which was one of the best experiences for me. Jon loved the taste, and his cock was ready to come as he slipped out of me.

Hopefully the start of a sporting relationship.