American Boy Part 1

He was young. Too young. Only in London for an exchange semester during the summer and hot to trot.

We met the first time in a pub near Smithfields Market. He was late and got me to buy him a drink. Great start, huh? He moaned about his course, his parents, the papers he had to write and pretty much everything. But he was cute. 

We left the pub and walked around Clerkenwell. He told me we couldn’t go back to his as he had roommates. So it had to be outside. We passed dogwalkers, couples, parties, cyclists and cabbies on one of the most beautiful walks I’ve ever been on.

Dusk was falling and he led me to a beautiful park I’d never been to before. Considered planting and climbers trained to grow up screens, arbours and undulating verges. We sat on a concrete wall and he started to kiss me. I suggested we move to a bench. His cock was hard already through his board shorts and he adjusted it as we settled down on the bench. Dusk was falling and the temperature dropped.

We kissed and I turned away from him at a noise nearby. Next thing I knew, his cock was out of the shorts and he encouraged me to pay it some attention. I needed none.

The bench was awkward so I ended up kneeling on the springy child-safe floor of the park, grabbing his cock and guiding it into my mouth hungrily, in the half light of the evening. Noises from the nearby tower blocks floated past, as did people over the other side. Each time I stopped, we both looked around and then I carried on. 

He came pretty quickly, with little ceremony. Maybe a grunt? He walked me back to the tube and we said goodbye.

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