He saw the guy leaning against the tree at the edge of the park, smoking and staring straight at him. It was past midnight, the paths mostly empty except for the occasional jogger with headphones. The guy was built like he lifted heavy, thick arms and a tight shirt stretched over his chest. When their eyes locked, he flicked the cigarette away and nodded toward the darker cluster of bushes twenty yards off the path.
No words at first. They both knew the drill. The stranger pushed through the branches first, and he followed, heart already pounding from the risk. Anyone could walk by and hear them. The stranger turned, grabbed him by the belt, and yanked him close.
"Get on your knees," the stranger said, voice low and rough. "Suck my dick before someone comes."
He dropped fast, hands already working the stranger's jeans open. The cock that sprang out was thick and half-hard, veins standing out. He wrapped his fingers around the base and licked the head, tasting salt and skin. The stranger grunted and pushed forward, shoving more into his mouth. He opened wide and took it, sucking hard while his own cock strained against his zipper.
"Fuck yeah, deeper," the stranger muttered, hands gripping the back of his head. "Choke on it."
He gagged but kept going, spit running down his chin as he bobbed. The bushes rustled every time the stranger thrust. Footsteps passed on the path maybe thirty feet away; he could hear voices but didn't stop. The danger made his balls ache. He reached down and freed his own dick, stroking it while he worked the stranger's shaft with his tongue.
The stranger pulled him off suddenly. "Turn around. Pants down. I want that ass."
He stood, shoved his jeans to his thighs, and braced against the tree trunk. Cool night air hit his exposed skin. The stranger spat on his fingers and rubbed the wet over his hole, pushing one thick digit inside without warning. He hissed at the stretch but pushed back, wanting more.
"Quiet," the stranger warned. "Or I'll make you louder."
A second finger joined the first, twisting and scissoring. Then the blunt head of that fat cock pressed against him. One hard shove and it breached, sliding in deep on the first thrust. He bit his lip to stay silent as the stranger started fucking, hips slapping against his ass in steady, filthy strokes.
"Take it," the stranger growled, one hand gripping his hip, the other reaching around to jerk his cock. "Your hole's so fucking tight. Bet you do this all the time."
Every thrust shoved him harder against the tree bark. Leaves brushed his face. Another set of footsteps crunched closer on the path; they both froze for a second, cock still buried balls-deep. The footsteps kept going. The stranger laughed low and started pounding again, faster now.
He reached back and spread his own cheeks wider, giving the stranger better access. The angle changed and the next thrust nailed his prostate. Pleasure shot up his spine. He stroked himself in time with the fucking, precum dripping onto the dirt.
"Gonna fill you up," the stranger said, voice tight.
"You want that load in your ass?"
"Yeah," he rasped. "Give it to me."
The stranger's rhythm broke. He slammed in three more times, buried himself to the root, and came hard. Hot pulses flooded inside him, thick and wet. The stranger kept grinding through it, milking every drop. The feeling tipped him over; he shot across the tree trunk, cum streaking the bark while his ass clenched around the still-hard cock inside him.
They stayed locked together for a long minute, breathing heavy. The stranger pulled out slow, cum already leaking down his thigh. They both tucked themselves away without ceremony.
"Same time tomorrow?" the stranger asked.
He wiped his mouth and nodded. The stranger disappeared back toward the path. He waited a minute, then followed, the wet mess in his pants a secret reminder as he walked into the night.
