The Boy on The Bike
I was 25 and working on a graduate degree and living in Peoria. I lived alone in a one-bedroom upstairs apartment. My girlfriend had recently moved out, retuning to the east coast to start a new job. I had one year left in the graduate program. By age 25 I'd had enough sex with males to know that I was at least bi-sexual.
One humid night in August I was feeling a bit horny and decided to see if I could find any action. Peoria sits on the Illinois River. Although now long gone, at the time there was a large parking lot and river-walk at the bottom of Main St., where it met the Illinois. During the day this park was frequented by downtown workers on their lunch breaks and others just there to take in the view. At night--especially late night--this area turned into the best cruising spot around. Men would either sit in their cars or would sit on the various park benches, checking each other out and looking for the telltale signs of interest.
I pulled in and cruised through the parking lot. I immediately spotted a boy who was probably 19 or 20 leaning on a bicycle and chatting with a guy who looked from a distance to be in his 30's or 40's. They were talking at a bench that was about a hundred yards down from a bridge that connected Peoria with East Peoria. From my car I could see the boy had blonde hair and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I couldn't see much more than that and thought `too bad, that would be nice.'
I parked my car and walked to a bench that was probably a couple hundred feet south from the boy and his friend. I lit up a Marlboro and watched the river flow, occasionally looking northward in the hopes I could catch his eye. It didn't happen so I focused on a long-ass barge full of grain that was probably three football field long, as it slowly made its way past, heading to the Mississippi.
There was a slight breeze that felt good across my skin on this humid summer night. I must have been lost in my thoughts because the next thing I knew the boy on the bike was getting off his ride right beside my bench. "Bum a smoke," he asked. "Sure," I said, "but you gotta smoke it with me." He laughed, looked back toward the guy he was talking to, took the offered cigarette and sat down beside me.
He told me that his name was Bob. I told him my name was Pat. I knew I was lying; don't know if he was. He said that he really was just coming down to ask for a smoke because he didn't think I'd be interested in anything else. I asked him why and he told me he figured if I had any interest I would walk up to where he was talking with the other guy. "Not my style," I told him. I see two guys talking and don't think it's cool to intrude. He laughed at that and told me that I was probably the most polite guy around. "So," I asked, "what if I said I was interested." He laughed again and said then that would make two of us.
We sat and talked and at some point I noticed that the other guy had disappeared. Bob was cute. He had blondish brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. A bobbed nose that looked a little feminine sat above lips that were lush and full. Like me, he was skinny. Probably no more than 120 or 130 pounds. He was dressed in a white plain t-shirt and faded blue jeans that had a tear halfway between the knee and the hip. A red bandana was tied around his leg, above the hole in his pants, at about his thigh.
He asked me if I wanted to go under the bridge and play. I told him that outdoor sex wasn't really my thing. Too many bad things could happen. The cops could come. Someone else could come and interrupt us. In all, it was just too creepy for me.
I live alone, I told him. We can go to my place if you want. He hesitated. He said he didn't like that idea because you hear about all kinds of crazy shit that happens. This was the early 80's--only a couple of years after Gacy reminded everyone that going back to a stranger's house might not always be the best life choice.
We talked some more and it almost felt like it was going to be a dry night. It was going on midnight and while both of us were clearly interested neither of us was into the other's plan for a meeting. Then nature did me a favor: the night sky lit up with lightning just as a thunderous crash of thunder shook us in our seats. "That was close," I said. And as big fat midwestern raindrops began to fall in a fury, I told him we should run to my car, which was only about 10 feet away. We got in (he took a little longer because he had to throw his bike into the back seat). Once inside the car I told him I could either drive him home or drive him to my place, as it was clear the storm wasn't going to pass soon.
He said, "can you drive me home?" and told me where he lived. I knew the area and started off in that direction. We were still just talking about nothing when I felt his hand on my bare thigh. I was in a t-shirt and shorts. His hand started at my thigh and slid up under my right leg, tickling the edges of my tighty-whiteys with his fingertips. I told him that felt nice and then he asked me where I lived. When I told him he said, let's just go there. I asked him what changed his mind and he said that if I was willing to just take him home without getting "pouty or rude" then I must be an ok guy.
We pulled up to my house and locked up the car to protect his bike. He followed me as we ran to the apartment door and then we ran up the stairs. Stopping just inside, I kissed him quickly for the first time. We could each feel the heat from our bodies as we pressed close. We then headed straight back to my bedroom, which consisted of a queen-size box-spring and mattress on the floor, a fan in the window, a dresser and two of the biggest 70's style speakers that served double-duty as a sound source and light-stands.
I flipped on the stereo and jazz from KKGO in Los Angeles filled the room--cable was less than 10 years old and we had figured out that if you connected your cable line to the receiver you could pick up some really cool shit from around the world.
The only light in the room was from a floor-level night light and the occasional flash of lightning outside. It continued to pour outside. Stan Kenton's filled the room with soft, upbeat jazz.
I stepped up to him and lifted his t-shirt over his head. He was thin as a rail with little bit of definition in his stomach. He was naturally bare and his nipples were about the size of a silver dollar and had a slight pink tint to them. A light blond-light brown pleasure trail started at just below his belly button and disappeared down behind his jeans. I leaned down and took first the left nipple into my mouth, sucking on it slow and hard. I then licked and sucked his right nipple.
I reached down and undid his belt buckle and let his jeans fall to the floor. He kicked them away. He wasn't wearing underwear; he had on a pair of bathing trunks that tied in the front. I didn't ask him why. Didn't care. I sunk to my knees in front of him and untied the bathing trunks, pulling them down with both hands. I took them off him as he lifted his left foot. I ran my hand down his blonde-hair covered left leg and gently rubbed his foot.
My hands traced their way back up each of his softly haired legs until they reach his groin at the same time.
His cock was about 6", cut, and thin. It sprang up toward me and at its base was a sparse patch of blond-brown pubic hair. Not curly but straight and barely covering his groin. His balls hung a bit low at the base. I reached out and ran my fingers through his pubes, lightly tracing circles to the side of his cock, which was pulsing in front of me, and reaching down, I teased my fingers back from his balls, across his taint, then his hole. I then grabbed on to his low hanging balls with my right hand and took his shaft into my left.
I stopped to admire his pinkish cock and then guided it closer to my mouth. I licked precum from the hole. It was sweet. I used my tongue to swab his cockhead and licked down the shaft. I then took him down my throat and buried my nose into his pubes. At the same time my hands found his balls and were turning them around as he began to thrust into my mouth and down my throat. This went on for a few minutes and then he stopped.
He lifted me up by my armpits and stood me up. He lifted my shirt over my head. I had some slight chest hair and that was it. He lifted up my arms and ran his fingers trough my armpit hair and leaned in and licked them from bottom to top, first the right and then the left. He pulled back and we kissed, his tongue forcing its way past my lips and down my throat.
After a minute or so of this he again pulled back, reached down, undid my belt buckle and let my shorts slide to the floor. I kicked them away. He reached down and pulled my underwear down and my cock sprang up. Like him I am around 6', maybe a little bigger, and cut. Unlike him, my cock gets really fat when it's engorged, maybe even 3" around, though I've never measured it. My curly patch of pubic hair spread from either side of my groin. He dropped to his knees and took me into his mouth. He must have known that his lips were made for head because he spent a lot of time rubbing his lips up and down the shaft. Groaning as his lips and mouth parted to accommodate my thick cock.
I leaned over and fell on the bed with him still between my legs. I reached down low and grabbed him by the hips, so that we were each on our sides, facing each out in a classic 69 position. I took his young cock into my mouth, again right down to his pubes and my hands found their way around to his ass. I licked the tip of my middle finger and then plunged it into his hole, working my way slowly in and finding his sweet spot. He went crazy. Thrusting his cock deep into my mouth and sucking my cock and balls with a fever.
We stopped, both sensing we needed a break. Then we started again. I came first, shooting volley after volley of cum down his throat. When I was finished, I went to work on him, playing with his balls and bringing him deep down my throat. He was so deep that I barely felt it when he started to cum. We both fell back and I looked at the clock. We'd only been in the room for about 15 minutes. It was going to be a long night. More to come.