This story is the sexual equivalent of a visit to a Sizzler Steak Bar with side tales instead of side plates. Of course there's the mouth-watering main course with a huge hunk of sirloin but you'll also find a lot of tasty dishes spiced up and lubricated with great dollops of mayonnaise, honey mustard, sour cream and the like. Actually, when you come to think about it, there's something pretty phallic about the way we consume our food. All that sucking and munching and licking of fingers. I mean you only have to think of a tightly coiled Philly sandwich exuding juicy delights as it unravels in your mouth. Not to mention the pleasure derived through a straw and the holes everywhere for our cokes and sodas. See what I mean? Get my drift? Read on.

I'm just back from what promised to be a fruitless trip to Portland. I was there to sort out an unfortunate legal matter and seeking sexual consolation. Normally there's not a whole lot going on. Oregon is pretty conservative. But during the summer there's a happy invasion of wind-surfers in Hood River and the Columbia Gorge and things perk up more than a little. No fooling, this trip had my mouth verily drooling. In fact 'gorge' is probably the operative word. Gorge and gorgeous. Some of those healthy young surf-studs seem carved out of stone, they're so body-beautiful! Fortunately it's the kind of stone that melts under a hot tongue. Like vanilla ice-cream straight from the fridge. I tell you man, surfing can work wonders for the adrenalin and I like to hang out where I can go with the flow and catch those jocks when they're hot which can be any time, any place. My dick is always on the ball and never misses a trick. In fact I've had quite a lot of private fun in public places. Hence the title of this story.

As luck (and fuck) would have it, I was staying in an inexpensive motel where they don't have showers in the rooms but at the end of every floor. Actually I caught my first jock-fish when he was freezing cold after his battle with the river. He dripped and chattered past my room as I was coming out the door so I dived back in and grabbed a towel. Fortunately there was no one else around. When I got to the shower room I saw he was having difficulty getting out of his protective wet-suit. Those things sure do cling. Naturally I offered to help him and he was so cold he didn't think twice. In fact, after sweeping a cursory glance over my well-toned gym-trained body, he most gladly accepted.

I found the perfect solution following some advice my grandmother had given me when preparing preserves. She told me that in order to unscrew a resistant preserve jar lid you had to put it under the hot water faucet. So I put him under the hot shower and unscrewed his lid so to speak. Helped him peel off his suit and in the process peeled off some of his uptight inhibitions. It wasn't exactly easy but after the inevitable initial protestations, with him telling me at least three times he was straight, I managed to straighten him out and we did some sexual wind-surfing of our own. There's something deeply erotic about unwrapping a sturdy young stud under the shower and he was soon as hotly aroused as me. It didn't take me long to get my lips round his dick and my hands round his buns and blow him like no wind had ever cum near to.

His name was Russ and his parents had financed the trip. He told me it was their present for his eighteenth birthday. This made me feel something of an errant parent myself. I'm thirty-six. It also reminded me of a French song by Dalida where after a hot night with some great guy she realizes that she's 'deux fois dix-huit ans'... twice as old as he is. However that thought didn't bother me for too long and by the time I'd finished with him he had at least twice as much experience. Can't be bad.

His chest was like a smooth slab of marble and his ass cheeks full and firm as breakfast muffins but between soap, pre-cum and spittle he became molten clay in my hands. He roared like an erupting volcano when I entered him and I half expected a visit from the rest of his buddies but it was that quiet, twilight zone hour in the afternoon when nobody ever seems to be around. In fact he'd only come back himself because he was so cold. Fortunately for me.

I think my dick must have been a little too much for him as he almost fainted between the pain and pleasure of it. I picked my little flounder up in my arms and took him back to my room. Just in time too as I heard his friends making their rowdy return. Meanwhile we were soon making out again as he had revived and seemed hungry for more of my dick. He may have been a novice but he sure learned real quick how to chomp on my dick and make it rise like a phoenix from the ashes. I put my fingers in his ears and helped him pump me to the rhythm I've become accustomed to.

Soon my own personal wind machine was surfing my dick and bringing me inestimable pleasure. It took me a while to cream his mouth like I had creamed his ass but the effort was worth it. I came slow but sure. Meanwhile he jacked himself off and, as I climaxed, I saw a white sail of his jizz unfurl across the room. I was green with envy. The young are so resilient. They recover so quickly. However I must say their attention span leaves a little to be desired. I mean just as I thought we were going to be joined at the dick for life he got up and left the room. It was just like when you spend a few hours with someone in a departure lounge and then ignore each other when the plane arrives. Which reminds me I did something just like that on my way back from Portland. Don't know when you'll be reading this but it was during the recent liquid bomb scare. They even confiscated my Rembrandt toothpaste.

Anyway, I saw this long length of a black college stud from Boise University. They sure seem to build them tall nowadays. And well hung. He smiled as he sat down beside me and thrust out his long muscular legs in front of him. His hot thighs were only a pubic hair's breadth away. My dick rose like the early morning sun. I don't know about you but some people have a really potent effect on me. Just one look at them is enough to make me cream my pants. His burgeoning bulge was very evident despite his baggy shorts and his pecs were palpitating provocatively through the sides of his loosely hung wife- beater. I couldn't wait to see him naked and hopefully beating me senseless with his iron pylon of a dick. We chatted amiably and from time to time he flashed his pearly white smile at me. He had absolutely no need of Rembrandt toothpaste.

We parted when the plane finally arrived. When we boarded I noticed he was in a window seat uncomfortably squeezed between the side of the plane and a portly middle-aged couple who looked like a pair of double cheeseburgers with extra French fries on the side. During the night flight I made several visits to the toilet hovering hopefully in the aisle thinking he might join me but to no avail. He was fast asleep and tightly wedged in. I was sitting in an aisle seat next to a couple from Nigeria. Most of the time the wife sat with her head buried in her husband's lap. This made me horny as hell thinking of what I might be doing if fate had let me sit next to my half-naked black stud. I'm sure that between us we would have created quite a bit of extra turbulence. No such luck. Life can be a bitch sometimes.

Still all was not lost. We were in transit and supposed to pick up our bags at the baggage claim. However neither of us had any baggage to claim. Just carry on items. I think he must have been having horny dreams about me too as without a single word we both headed straight for the men's restroom and proceeded to carry on ably claiming our unclaimed liquid items in a cubicle reserved for the disabled. Surprisingly, not a soul entered the entire time. Everybody was obviously busy claiming their own baggage. Man, by the time it was all over he'd claimed me bag and baggage and all. Strange isn't it, with all the new safety regulations they never seem to have video cameras in the john. Or maybe they do and they're really well hidden. If so somebody sure got an eyeful while I was getting first a mouthful and then an enormous ass-full.

For starters I sat on the porcelain throne ready to worship whatever came out of his pants. He stood totem pole tall in front of me. He was wearing a jock strap so by the time I got his dick out he'd already started coming in my face. It was also quite a job trying to get his slithery ten inch pole to fit in my mouth. I'd never tasted black dick before but soon discovered that love is a many flavoured thing. It was great. Once I'd manoeuvred it in that is. Fortunately over the years I've developed quite a malleable mouth. My jaws kind of change gear according to what they're clutching.

I made a hearty breakfast at his soda fountain and then moved on to make a full feast of his horny pits and prominent pecs. I tell you, those juicy black cherries were really something. I got him so hot that unexpectedly I found his lusty black tongue thrusting its way down my throat and his fingers forcing their way into my ass. Before I knew it I had my head half way down the toilet as he fucked the living shit out of me. Yet another demonstration on how quickly the young recover. Wish I could say the same about my ass. His dick was so thick it made my eardrums burst. Just as well we were in a cubicle for the handicapped as I had to hang on to those support rails for grim death. I wanted to let out a roar like an impaled jungle lion but, for obvious reasons, had to contain myself while I did my best to 'contain' his dick.

Talk about too much too soon. It would have been great to take his greatness long and slow but circumstances were against it. I gave him my address in Boston in case he wanted a repeat performance but he's probably working his way through a list of college studs all too eager to get their butts busted.

But aside from mind-boggling dicks and ass expanding adventures my third story was the real highlight of my visit. That's why I've left it till last. It took place in a swimming pool in The Dalles, Oregon. In fact you might say that my 2006 trip embraced land, air and water. I've got a thing about water. Whatever I'm uptight about, my angst slips away whenever you put me near a lake or a river. This year I was feeling particularly uptight as my ex-wife had just gained custody of our three-year-old son. She won the case by claiming I was promiscuous. Maybe she's right but I've never been unfaithful to her with another woman. Still in Oregon it's enough to be gay to render you an unsuitable parent so I surrendered little James to the arms of the law.

I was given permission to see him three times a year and get to keep him from mid-July to mid-August. So you can imagine it was a disgruntled, unhappy camper who left Portland this year. That's why it was so easy for me to have sex on the rebound. It helped stifle the pain of separation. While there I took James to a fun park which included water chute and swimming pool. The swimming instructor was super endowed and stunning.

It was lust at first sight as far as I was concerned. He was tall, blond and handsome but what made him so special were his piercing blue eyes, beaked nose and Indian features. His mother was Swedish and he was a mass of beautiful contrasts. I absolutely flipped the first time I saw him. His pecs were like twin peaks and the voluptuous valley between his rib cage was wide and long. In fact it was like a water chute itself and there wasn't a hair on his body to impede your passage to his pubes. I stood transfixed and stared, then mumbled something about giving my son swimming lessons although it was me that wanted to be set afloat by Svend's bulging biceps. And how.

He said the pool was closed between five-thirty and seven for private lessons. It was too hot during the day. I thoroughly agreed with him. We had our first conversation at ten in the morning and I was sizzling like a sausage on the grill each time I looked at him. I took James on the water chute to recover but lo and behold there was Svend waiting at the bottom ready to catch us. James laughed in delight and my dick soared in flight. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anybody. Except James of course. But that was different. Fatherly love and fervent desire are poles apart.

It might have been wishful thinking but I felt strong vibes between us and physical attraction on his side too. In fact, after a few visits to the pool basking in the sun and the splendour of his caramel body, I was completely besotted and dreaming of a happy life with me, James and Svend forever entwined. James loved his swimming lessons almost as much as I did especially when Svend decided to give us a demonstration and cut through the water like the proverbial knife. I had visions of those javelin-like body thrusts sending me to heaven and back again. All this while accompanying my son to the swimming pool. Maybe the judge and my ex-wife were right. I wasn't an appropriate parent for the child.

Soon the dreaded day dawned when I had to hand James over to Elizabeth. I was absolutely devastated. Late the next evening I went swimming by myself and told Svend all about it. I needed some sympathetic solace from someone. I got it too. He gave me a masculine hug to console me and that was our undoing. We both went hard at each other's touch and were soon fucking and sucking in the janitor's office between the buckets and brooms. The pool cleaner could have come in at any moment and caught us mid-coitus.

Fortunately it was almost closing time when sex reared its beautiful horny head between us and, as Svend shut the big iron gates with an ominous clang, I felt like a sex slave being thrown to the lions of lust and couldn't wait to meet my fortunate fate.

"I thought you were straight," he said happily as he pulled down my pants and dragged me towards him to give me a life-saving kiss.

"I thought you'd never notice I wasn't," I replied as I finally got to run my hands over that massive chest and take my tongue on a torrid tour down his love chute and make a meaty meal of his generous dick.

"Do you like to fuck or be fucked?" he asked as he investigated my hot asshole. It opened like a horny rose to the warmth of his touch. I shuddered with pleasure and sank wantonly down on his penetrating fingers.

"It's up to you." I laughed, finally where I'd longed to belong. "When I'm with you I hardly know which way to turn."

Eventually we did it both ways but only after a long time getting to know each other's bodies and experiencing the joy of mutual possession. Making love to an athlete is a trip in itself and I became quite acrobatic in my efforts to please him. He for his part penetrated parts of my anal anatomy no penis had ever reached. I learned to raise my butt high in the air and wait for his long, strong streamlined dick to come zooming in on me just as if he was taking a high dive from the springboard.

Each time he hit my ass with such a seismic splash it sent my senses reeling and the rest of me soaring to the skies. And as he continued to dive in and out of me with growing rapidity, my grateful love-lock opened its slutty sluice gates ever wider, eager for the next fantastic plunge. The pair of us (me and my ass that is) just couldn't get enough of him. Of course by now we were fornicating indoors and living out of each other's mouths. And the more he fucked me, the more he filled my ravenous, cavernous ass. And the empty void left by the loss of my son. Once we did it under the stars at the top of the diving board. It was death-defying and hair-raising at the same time. I hung on tight to the guard rail as he drove his ten inch pole deep into my ass and jerked me off as he was doing so. First we hit the heights and then the water as we catapulted down still copulating. You should try it sometime. It's pretty dangerous but beats the missionary position any time.

Although that wasn't too bad an experience either as he chained me to his bed and used my legs as oars while he took me on a butt ride to paradise. In fact in our short time together my beautiful Swedish-Indian fucked me hard and strong, for what seemed like hours at a time, in every position and every way imaginable. Soon I was a confirmed and utter butt slut and a salivating slave to his dick. And happy to be so too.

Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end and after three glorious fuck-filled weeks during which my mouth and butt discovered what they'd been missing all these years, it was time for me to leave for Boston. I knew I was going to pine after James and Svend like crazy but consoled myself by thinking I now had two loved ones to come home to. Also Svend has promised to visit me in Boston. Says he'll be there for Thanksgiving. Meanwhile I continue to pursue my search for private things in public places. After all, I have to keep my ass in gear until Svend revs up my engine again.