Jon's Path (part 2) by tanj
Okay, so it's the same thing as last time, right? This story is pure fiction with the exception of a few place names. Fictional story, fictional characters, fictional consenting sex between teens who happen to be males. Exclusively. Don't like it? Don't read it. Nuff said.
My thanks to all those who gave their encouragement, but the vast majority of my gratitude is reserved for that singular person whom has made my life complete. You know who you are - am I right, sexy-boy?
And now, back to the path...
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Jon sat in the cubicle in somewhat of a daze. The stranger that had occupied the neighbouring stall had escaped in total anonymity leaving Jon with a few cum stains on his shirt, a softening cock and a warm glow of satisfaction centred on his crotch. His first thought - after his brain reactivated - reminded him that it was early summer, and he need not wear a splotchy shirt all the way home. It could be shoved into the backpack for the bike ride. Jon's second thought was less trivial, however.
He was mortified to think that his life was becoming queerer and queerer before his very eyes while there was apparently nothing he could do about it. As was usually the case, Jon shrugged it off thinking that if he couldn't swim against the current, he may as well relax as he drifted down stream. At times like this, he often thought of an interesting article he had stumbled across while performing some rather unfocused research for a biology project a year ago. It was from a medical journal on the topic of genetics. The author of the article claimed to have found evidence that homosexuality was an inherited trait - a certain area of the brain that was smaller and less active in homosexuals than in "normal" people.
At the time, Jon's father had seen the specious flaw within this claim almost immediately. "How could it be genetic? Homosexuals don't breed, do they? If your belief in evolution were right, then this feature would have died out millions of years ago, wouldn't it? I don't know whether to blame your teachers or you, but I refuse to take responsibility for it!" The memory of his father's voice echoed off the tiles of the empty washroom.
Screw this, Jon thought. It had been a most excellent day so far, aside from the tumble from his Schwinn that morning. Warm and sunny, an easy calculus final, the last day in this dump of a school and he had gotten his rocks off in an extraordinary fashion. What more could he ask for? More riding, that's what.
Jon exited the washroom and then the building altogether with a sense of sneaking secrecy, certain that if anybody had spied him they would somehow identify his indecent act. Prosecution wishes to enter the stained shirt as exhibit A, your Honour.
His bike was just as he had left it, locked to the rack with two or three other stragglers. In practiced, fluid motions, Jon unlocked his bike, set the front wheel back into the fork, and re-attached the seat at the perfect height. Within seconds he was on the street, travelling at the same speed as the traffic.
About two kilometres south on Fourth Street, Jon left the road for the path that wound through Centennial Park. His legs felt a slight burn as was ordinary for a fit seventeen-year-old. He could hold this pace for hours on end, never tiring enough to be forced into a rest, enough power left over for a sustained burst of pure speed if it became necessary. The one thing he needed was water. Carrying large quantities of it was wasteful - far better to carry it inside the body.
Jon stopped at a drinking fountain and filled his stomach with cool, clear water without getting off his bike. Here he paused, resting one foot on the edge of the child sized fountain, the other still on a pedal, while he watched the joggers, 'bladers, bikers and elderly strollers pass by in the sunshine.
From his left came the distinctive sound of a skateboard rolling across pavement. Jon glanced in the direction of the sound and was at once rewarded by the sight of a young skater, sixteen tops, no shirt and baggy knee-length shorts, battered sneakers with no socks inside them, shoulder length dirty blonde hair tossing fitfully in the wind created by the kids motion. Without a doubt, summer is the greatest of all the seasons. Jon admired the strong butt that was hinted at beneath the fabric of the shorts each time the kid's right leg reached forward to pound at the path.
As he watched the cutie dwindle to his right, a voice reached him from near left.
"Scuze, man. Thirsty out - Whoa! Dude! It's you again!"
Jon looked over into the face of a young roman god on a Trek, the same kid that had forced him off the path earlier that day. No shirt, well proportioned smooth chest, Jon's prick immediately twitched in recognition. "Hey. Mind if I stay on my bike this time?"
"Ha haaa! Not at all, man. Mind if I smell yer foot while I drink?" the kid grinned back.
"Oh... sorry..." Jon nearly stammered as he removed his foot from the fountain. His wit was slowly overcome by desire and the fantasies playing out in his head. Jon watched the kid bend over the fountain in the same manner as he had moments before: ass still on the seat and one foot on the edge of the fountain. He watched the glistening back muscles and neck tendons standing out. He watched the young arm, finely muscled, as it caught the stem of the fountain, watched as the thumb pressed the valve button. He studied the beads of sweat on the boy's forehead as they gathered themselves into drops that slid over the high cheekbones one by one, some dripping off the majestic nose, falling into the stream of water as it entered the mouth and down the throat in repeated bobs of the Adam's apple. He gazed at the hair peeking out of the boy's armpit, then to his leg, bent nearly double, showing off the knee and developed calf muscle covered in fine light brown hairs. Jon slowly shifted his stance, repositioned his pedals to raise his left leg, hiding his growing erection.
"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh! Jeezuz, but this city has good water, eh?" The boy straightened out, leaving his foot on the side of the fountain.
Get a grip, Jon. "Uhh... Yah... You're not from around here?" Brilliant. Fucking brilliant, Jon. Another witty repost from the gay-boy at his finest.
"Naw, dude. Winnipeg. Not as many hills to hump over out there, but way more places to take a swim when you get hot. Is there anywhere around here for that?"
Jon considered the question for perhaps an eighth of a second. "Sure, but it's gonna be damned cold. Think you can handle it?"
"Helllloooo! Dude, I'm from Winnipeg! If it's liquid, it's warm enough to swim in!" The kid smirked in a way that made Jon laugh out loud.
"All right, mano. Try to keep up with me!" Jon replied with a smirk of his own.
There was no suppressing Jon's teenage competitive instinct. He immediately sent his entire weight onto the cranks. Distorting the frame ever so slightly, he shot off in the direction he'd come from, back into the heart of Centennial Park. He quickly cycled through the gears until the last rear sprocket, about the size of a loonie, was giving the drive wheel about six revolutions for every one of the pedals. Zipping around a jogger, Jon spied the young 'boarder ahead and coming up fast.
"On your left!"
WOOOSHHH!
Jon looked back over his shoulder to see the skater's expression. His new friend was still with him and Jon begrudgingly admitted that he was pretty good on his bike. Then, to his amazement, he saw his cycling buddy give the younger skater a swat on the butt as he passed.
"Out of the way, little dude!"
Jon guffawed at the look on the poor kid's face. Much better than anything he could have produced by simply zooming past at excessive speed.
Another two kilometres at this speed went by in an amazingly short time span. Jon dismounted on the other side of a small hump-backed wooden bridge that crossed the creek just upstream of where it widened into a pool. His new friend was right behind him. They were both blowing hard. "Hey (puff). You're not bad on that thing."
"Yah...well," the kid replied sarcastically, "I've been (huff huff) studying since I... (huff) ran over you this morning. (huff) Now I can correctly identify (huff) a bicycle eight times out of ten (huff huff). Of those times (huff), I can pick out the front end about half the time. (huff)"
"Half the time, eh? (puff puff)" Jon asked, getting into the game, "Then you're probably (puff) just guessing. Odds are (puff) you'd be right about half the time (puff puff) 'cuz there's only two ends on a bike (puff)."
They both laughed as their cardio-pulmonary rates quickly resettled to normal levels. They set their bikes down on the grass (kick-stands are for pussies) and Jon waved an arm expansively at the pool of water. "It's all yours, mano. Dive in!"
"What about you? You're not going in?"
"No way. I'm not from Winnipeg." Jon stated.
"Have it your way, dude." The boy said as he waded thigh deep into the water. "Aw, hell... It's not th-th-that bad!"
Jon's laugh died out in amazement as he watched his friend slowly sink down to a kneeling position, the chilled water reaching nipple level. The small nipples stood erect in tiny buttons of perfectly formed flesh as they alternately appeared and disappeared behind the small waves. "Jesus. You've got more balls than brains!"
"Not any more, dude. Ever heard of river-dick?"
Jon laughed again. This guy was funny as well as good looking. He couldn't tear his gaze from the kid's nipples; try as he might, until his friend stood up to wade out of the water.
"See what I mean?" the boy asked, "The water makes it disappear!" He gestured at his crotch and wet jogging shorts.
Jon averted his gaze and twiddled the grass, once again afraid of being outed. The boy plopped down beside him to soak up some warmth from the sun. "Thanks dude, this is a great spot for a cool-down." He said. "Hey, ummm... my name's Anth. What's yours?"
"Jonathon. Call me Jon." Still not trusting himself to glance at the boy, he asked, "Anth? As in, Anthony?"
"Yeah, that's right, but I'll deny it if you ever repeat it. I can't take 'Tony' so I stick with Anth. Nice to meet you, Jon!" Anth stuck out his hand.
Jon took the offered hand and looked into Anth's eyes as he shook it, marvelling at the strength and feel of the wet and cool hand. "Yah, nice to meet you, Anth." It was all he could do not to run his eyes down the length of his new friends bod, lingering for special attention at the wet crotch area.
"Is it safe to whiz in the bushes?"
Jon's daze was broken by the abrupt change in subject. "Uhh... sure, I guess... I mean there's no cop station on the other side or anything."
Anth produced his smirk and got up to search out a spot to mark. When he returned, he sat down with his back against a tree and facing Jon. He kept his left leg bent at the knee, thereby lifting the drying shorts off of his right thigh. Jon was stunned. He had a clear view of his new friends 'nads. Anth seemed to be totally unaware of the fact that he was exposing himself so completely. Besides that, he seemed to be straighter than Jon's roomie Kev!
Jon stared as long as he possibly dared. Long enough to see the underside of a cut cock lying on its side over top of a shrunken sac. The same brown hair that covered those legs thinly surrounded the cock and balls he so avidly observed. He also noted a strange dark spot of irregular shape on the shaft of this beautiful tool. God, he had to stop looking! Anth would surely notice. But mano! Look at that thing! Jesus, he could even see some hair in the crack of Anth's ass below his tight bag. Was it always that tight? Maybe it was just the cold water...
"... the look on that kid's face! ...Dude...?"
A shot of adrenalin pumped Jon's chest as he realized, with a fatal certainty, that his new friend had caught him looking. "Yah!" he said, far too loudly, snapping his eyes back to Anth's face. He was no longer smiling. "That was... uh... that was great." Jon burned with anxiety. Anth had noticed. Was he going to condemn Jon as a fag? Snarl a remark and throw a punch?
To be sure, Jon had spent very little time looking his new friend in the face. Even now, at a time when that was the only place he should be looking, Jon's eyes found themselves glued to Anth's chest. The rapid breathing had drawn his eye, and now his mind was racing. Shit! What am I doing? He's going to think I'm a fag. Christ... I am a fag! Shit shit shit!
Anth had arrived in Calgary less than a week before. His father had been transferred but had managed to delay the move until Anth and his younger sister Sonya had completed the school year.
He couldn't complain about his new city, the scenery was like nothing he had ever experienced before, but the bike paths! They were a dream come true. A diligent cyclist could explore every sector of the city, but it would take months at least. The only problem was the fact that he had left every single friend he'd ever had behind in Dullsville.
The people were different, that was certain. Take, for example, that prick this morning. Telling him how to identify the front end of his bike as if there were still training wheels on it! Sure, Anth thought, maybe he could have been paying a little more attention to his surroundings, but still! Back home, they would have been stumbling over each other to apologize.
Anth had spent most of the day exploring his new environment. He realized that the altitude would take some getting used to. The air was thinner, and that made the hills that much tougher to pump his bike over, but it sure as hell didn't affect his sex drive. At sixteen, he pulled off at least twice a day, and today was no different.
So far, he had seen the downtown core, which was just down a steep incline from his new home. He'd seen the General Hospital, the long, long climb back up the damned hill on Edmonton Trail, seen Peter's Drive-In, where he was shocked by his order of fries. He had asked for a large fries, and that's what he got -- practically a shoebox full of them. He'd seen what he had realized was his new school, Fowler High, and naturally, it was built on the side of a hill. After that, he had cycled through a large park and found nothing of interest on the other side.
Damn it, he deserved a good whack after all that work! He decided to head back into the park to find a nice secluded spot for some fun in the sun. It didn't take him long to find just he spot. A small area on the side of a creek surrounded by trees and bushes.
Anth peeled off his t-shirt and sat down on a tiny patch of grass. He was half hard already. After a pause to listen for other people nearby, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his nylon jogging shorts. No underwear because he loved the delicious feeling of being less than fully dressed in public, not to mention the feel of the silky material against his cock as he pedaled. Shorts down around mid thighs, Anth flipped his semi-wood over to the other side and watched as it grew and slowly worked itself back to the left with small bobbing motions. It wasn't long before he was extended to his full six and five-eighths inches - he had measured it to exacting standards many times.
"How's my buddy doin'?" Anth mumbled. He scrutinized his dick with a practiced eye. The patchy pigmentation was an oddity that he had not fully come to grips with yet, but he knew - from experience - that some time in the sun would help blend the differing shades.
Anth heard a rustle in the bushes somewhere in front and slightly to his right. His body immediately froze, but his mind thrilled at the thought that somebody was watching him. His cock had similar sentiments; it immediately became almost painfully hard. He pretended not to notice the intruder and started slowly stroking his cock with his masculine hand. His other hand gripped his bag, loose and hanging, and gently rolled his nuts around each other. He tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes to mere slits, knowing that anybody more than three metres away would think they were closed.
His rod was throbbing pleasure throughout his body as he stroked it and covertly studied the bushes across from him. He never would have seen the trespasser if she had not moved. Instantly, Anth's shielded eyes focused on the motion, picked out the outline of a girl with shoulder length hair, stealthily repositioning for a better view.
Maybe two seconds later, Anth realized that it was a guy in the bushes, not a girl at all. He had no shirt on! His cock erupted as this thought formed, the first shot going straight up, rotating end over end to land with a splat - half on his shorts, half on his thigh - just as the next volley lifted itself over his navel and onto his chest. A barely audible gasp from the kid in the bushes only served to intensify Anth's climax and the next three or four blast landed on and around his toned body.
Having seen all he could, the hiding boy scrambled to extricate himself from his cover and rush back to the path. Anth heard him drop a skateboard and frantically pound away over the pavement. He sat there a while pondering the intensity of his burst. Why had it felt so damn good when he saw that it was a boy? Would it have felt the same if it really was a girl? What the hell was going on here?
After a time, Anth cleaned himself in the water but was unsure what to do about the spot on the hem of his shorts. Riding with wet shorts was a total drag. It chafed. He decided to forget about it - all of it - and just ride home.
Later, leisurely coasting along the path, Anth spied a fountain at which another biker was resting. Yup, time for fluids, all right. The guy was staring off in the direction Anth had been cycling and didn't see or hear him approach.
"Scuze, man. Thirsty out" here today, his mind finished as his mouth formed the words, "Whoa! Dude! It's you again!" Here was the guy that had dumped himself off the path in order to avoid colliding with Anth.
"Hey. Mind if I stay on my bike this time?" The kid said.
So, going to remain in the role of the righteous, are we? Well... I suppose it was more my fault than his, Anth thought. "Ha haaa! Not at all, man. Mind if I smell yer foot while I drink?" Anth cocked his head at the guy's foot resting on the edge of the fountain.
"Oh... sorry..."
Aww, shit. The guy thinks it was his fault! Anth bent over to swallow water and thought about how to explain to this dude that he should have been more careful. His mind remained a complete blank. All he could think of was, "Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh! Jeezuz, but this city has good water, eh?" Oh, yah. Like these Albertans don't think I'm hick enough already. Shit, man! What a stupid thing to say.
"Uhh... Yah... You're not from around here?"
Wow. This dude was really upset. Better make friendly-like. "Naw, dude. Winnipeg. Not as many hills to hump over out there, but way more places to take a swim when you get hot. Is there anywhere around here for that?" Anth smiled hopefully. No hard feelings?
"Sure, but it's gonna be damned cold. Think you can handle it?" The kid answered immediately and smiled.
That's cool, Anth thought, he ain't such a hard-ass after all. Anth made a wisecrack about Winterpeg only to receive a friendly challenge of cycling skills. The dude took off like a bat out of hell and Anth hoped the grade would remain somewhat level on the way to the swimming hole. He'd seen enough of the damn hills already!
"On your left!" the dude yelled out at someone just in front of him and swerved around a kid on a skateboard, missing him by millimetres.
Holy shit! Anth thought, that's the kid who was spying on me! As he passed, Anth gave him a sound smack on the ass and hollered, "Out of the way, little dude!" That'll show him, little bastard. Anth didn't look back for fear of being recognized, but he caught his new friend's look of utter astonishment.
A few minutes later, they had reached a spot on the creek that was wide and deep enough for a swim. Trading jibes and jokes; Anth suddenly remembered the spot on his shorts and the fact that he had forgotten his shirt back in the trees. Better get into the water.
And damn, it was cold! But he had no choice. He sunk down to a squat and surreptitiously rubbed at the stain to work it out of the material. Dude was having trouble looking Anth in the eye. Was he still feeling bad about the incident this morning? Anth waded back out of the water and cracked another joke about how cold it really was. "See what I mean? The water makes it disappear!" He gestured at his wet shorts laughing at his own double entendre.
The dude still didn't respond, just sat there twisting grass around his finger. Anth wanted to apologize, but all that came out was a timid, "Thanks dude, this is a great spot for a cool-down. Hey, ummm... my name's Anth. What's yours?"
Anth found out his new friends name was Jonathon, Jon for short. They shook hands and Jon finally looked him in the eye and gave him a crooked little - very little - grin. "Is it safe to whiz in the bushes?" Anth asked, hoping for a laugh.
"Uhh... sure, I guess... I mean there's no cop station on the other side or anything." Jon replied. No laugh, but Anth got that crooked grin again.
Anth got up and took a leak, returned to his new friend, and sat back down with his right leg stretched out in front of him. "Man, that was priceless, eh? That kid on the board? I saw you zoom right past him and I sure as hell didn't wanna be outdone! I mean... the look on that kids face! ...Dude...?" He noticed Jon was staring at his shorts with a slightly stunned look on his face. Aw, shit! Was there still a cum stain visible there? Should have scrubbed it harder! Jon's going to think I'm a perv or something! Shit!! What if he knows that little dude on the skateboard?! What if they were talking about me before I showed up at the fountain? Shit shit shit!
Anth tried to retrieve some semblance of normality. "Umm... dude... look, I gotta get home. Maybe we can get together later and hang a bit?"
"Uhh... Hey, look, man... I'm really sorry. Really I am, but I should make tracks too. Maybe I'll..." see you around. "Later, mano." And with that, Jon picked up his Schwinn pulled the disappearing act for the second time that day.
Fuck, thought Anth, burning with shame. We would have made pretty good friends, biking buddies at least.
Jon lay in his bed in a black mood. Just my luck, he thought, a sexy, smart, friendly guy like that, and I have to let him see me drooling like some queen on an American sitcom.
Despite his shame, or perhaps because of it, he decided that if he insisted on acting so queer, he might as well be that queer. It was one in the morning, and he was going to take his bike down to the park.
Jon lifted his Schwinn from the wall and let himself quietly out the door. He pushed the bike around to the front of the house, mounted it and rode like the wind. He went to the cliff edge, found the path that led obliquely down the face of it, cycled across Princess' Island Park, through the nearly deserted downtown core, across the lively strip centred on Eleventh Avenue, and turned onto Thirteenth.
Here he slowed his pace. He needed his wits about him and the slower speed helped him focus on the shadows surrounding the empty lots, the large, old houses, the apartment buildings. Seeing no immediate dangers, Jon turned into the area surrounding the old Lougheed Residence.
There was a youngish guy, maybe twenty, sitting on the steps at the rear of the building. He let out a low whistle of appreciation at the sight of Jon and stood up to walk towards him. Jon stood astride his bike and inspected the guy as he approached. About five foot eight, one-thirty pounds, dressed in a tight t-shirt and jeans. He couldn't see specifics, eye colour, hair; it was too dim for that. But he did see him rubbing his crotch. And when he got close enough, Jon could see a sizeable bulge in his jeans.
Jon was wearing his black spandex riding shorts and practically nothing else. His hard cock was perfectly outlined under the tight fabric, the head, even the tube on the underside stood out in bas-relief. The guy's hand reached out and gave Jon's meat a squeeze. Oh, yaaahhhh. Jon swung his leg over the bike and walked it back towards the stoop. The stranger followed while unzipping his jeans and producing a cock at least nine inches long, uncut, and hard as a nail.
He placed his hands on Jon's hips and peeled the spandex down his legs, freeing Jon's aching tool. He kneeled down and let out that low, almost inaudible whistle again. "Nice fuckin' cock, man." Jon just watched with an expressionless face.
The young man looked Jon straight in the eyes as he opened his mouth and swallowed whole the prick bouncing in front of his face. Jon took in a sharp breath and rolled his head back, enjoying the warm, silky sensation. The guy pulled his mouth off and whispered, "Yah. You like that, huh?" and reached a hand around to Jon's ass, slipped a finger into the crack and pressed it against Jon's hole.
Jon flinched and tightened his sphincter while reaching down to wordlessly removing the man's hand from his ass. With his other hand, Jon pulled the man's head back onto his cock. He thrust into the face a few times, all the while looking into the man's eyes with a vague feeling of violence. The man was stroking his huge cock while sucking on Jon.
Jon pulled his meat out with a pop and sat his naked ass on the cold cement of the steps. The man stood up and pushed his jeans farther down his legs. Jon had never seen a tool this size, so hard, so close up. The foreskin was stretched taught and only covered the bottom half of the engorged head. There was no way he would get his mouth around that thing, so he spit on it and started fisting it while watching the precum leak out of the slit.
"Yah, baby... suck on it a while." The man whispered. Jon had no intention of doing so. He let go and leaned back onto his elbows, inviting the man to resume his oral assault, giving him a crooked grin that came out as more of a sneer.
The man dropped to his knees again and grabbed Jon's cock and held it back so he could lick and suck on Jon's bag. He slipped his tongue a little farther down and teased Jon's ass again. Jon sat up slightly straighter, silently warning the guy to stay away from that area. He took the hint and resumed pistoning his mouth up and down Jon's shaft. Jon lolled his head back, closed his eyes and moaned quietly, very close to blowing it. "Uuuuunnnnnggggggggghhhhhh!"
Jon started cumming. Two shots spurted into the man's mouth and throat, then the stranger pulled off and caught some in his hand, the rest shooting onto his jeans and t-shirt. "Yah! That's it! That's the way...." The man took Jon's fresh juice and covered his own cock with it. He stood up, scrambled to get his cock near Jon's face while pumping furiously with his cum-covered fist. He didn't make it all the way to Jon's face. "Uuuuhhhhh, yah, baby here it is. Take it baby, take it all!" The stranger lost his load in flying gobs, heavy with velocity. Most of it ended up in Jon's hair, one spot on his neck, the rest dribbling out onto his stomach.
They both remained unmoving for a short while, that exhilarating/exhausting body rush slowly washing away. Jon's mood turned suddenly blacker than it was before he left home. He humped his ass up two steps and got out from under this total stranger. He took three quick strides to his bike while thinking, fag! Fucking FAG!!
Jon pedaled away at near light speed... still unsure of whom, exactly, he was calling a fag.
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End of part two. Again, if you have any thing to say about this story - good, bad, or indifferent - the address is at the top. But please, do me the courtesy of omitting any personal questions.