Date: Sat, 24 Jan 2004 16:07:50 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Angel in Flight

			      ANGEL IN FLIGHT
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     Angel gave his cycle a few revs, hands twisting his handholds and then
he jumped his bike forward off its kickstand, the rear tire skidded him
around and he was tooling down the path toward the ramp. I watched him as
he hit the steep incline of the ramp at high speed and launched out into
space. As he left the ground, he let go of his handlebar and gave a couple
of quick "wing-flaps" of his hands and arms as he stood up on his
motorcycle, then sat quickly back down, grabbed his handholds and landed
with a jar and went out of sight behind some bushes beyond.
     Not much of a trick stunt for motocross jumping, was it? Well, Angel
was capable of plenty of other tricks, he was doing this to teach me how. I
had learned how to take a ramp and land safely, now it was time to teach me
the tricks. For this, he had the kindness to take me to his personal jump
ramp, well in the back of his mother's sizeable estate, a well-graded and
well-maintained short stretch of dirt road and a single, regulation-sized
jumping ramp. Angel could have afforded an entire course if he'd wanted it,
but when I asked, he'd shrugged and said, "Then everyone would want to
borrow it. This way, it's all mine." And it was. When Angel wanted to run a
full course, he joined the groups at the local motocross arena and waited
his turn like a normal mortal human being instead of the god-on-wheels that
he was.
     I heard him stop his cycle and gulped, gave my own motorcycle the gun
and headed for the ramp. This was an easy stunt, I told myself as I headed
for the ramp, just make sure your motorcycle is balanced and steady when
you leave the ramp. Then keep your center of gravity steady as you let go
and stand up on the motorcycle, hanging on with your legs on either side,
and extend your arms.
     Simple stuff, huh? I left the ramp and felt that I was falling. The
motorcycle's pitch beneath me damped down to a low rumble almost
immediately, I was still rising. I let go of the handlebars and
straightened my legs, gripping the bike with my legs.
     Don't do it, my stomach begged me as I straightened my body out. My
nuts tried to crawl up into my body while every pore of my body
simultaneously decided to exude a rank-smelling sweat.
     But I did it, I got my arms outstretched, and then I could feel I had
begun to fall-you get such a short time up in the air on a jump, a second
or so is all-and I hurriedly sat back down and grabbed my handholds,
unintentionally giving the gun to my motorcycle (a mistake, you have to
land with the motor idling and THEN give it the gas after you have finished
landing) and I let go for a second, the motorcycle landed with a heavy thud
that shook my body, and I clutched for a hold, and bounced slightly and
unintentionally gave it the gun again in the air and then I was down and
the bike jerked beneath me, the steering column wobbled and I skidded,
lurched, barely got it under control again and hit the gas (best way to
stay steady on a bike is to be moving, your own momentum acts like a
gyroscope), and finished up with something approaching Angel's easy elan.
     I stopped my bike by giving skidding around a quarter turn so that it
was facing to the left-and facing Angel. He sat there like a white guardian
angel on his white motorcycle, dressed in white leather decorated with
powder blue and just enough red to keep the eye moving over his body, his
helmet was white with red stripe, and I knew beneath that visor was a
gorgeously handsome young man with blond hair and an easy, clean smile as
wholesome as summertime and as caring as your favorite pet dog.
     "Not bad for a first jump." He said to me kindly.
     "Are you kidding?" I grimaced. "I stunk."
     "Hey." He said, lifting the visor and I got a glimpse of eyes the same
shade of blue as he wore on his leather jumpsuit. Should have used yellow
instead of red, I thought, to match his hair, a sunny-gold yellow that was
the color of sunbeams trapped in a dense forest .
     "What did you say?" I stuttered.
     He shook his head and I knew though I couldn't see it that he was
grinning. "I said you have to learn to crawl before you can walk, and walk
before you can run." He said. "You were okay until it came time to grab
hold again, then you were overeager and grabbed too hard, that's all. The
motorcycle is stable if you've taken off right, trust it to land stable
even if you don't have a good hold on the handlebars just then. I know guys
who do the entire jump including landing without their hands. With a good
course, you can do that when you're good enough."
     He shut down his visor and said to me, his voice blurred by the
helmet. "Want to try it again?"
     "You bet!" I said.
     "Then let's go." I think he said, but the roar of his engine drowned
that out. I followed him back over the ramp, this time at a granny's pace,
for the ramp wasn't as even on this side as it was on the other. Even at
this slow speed, I felt the bike want to jump into the air with me as I
crested the hill.
     Would I ever be as good as Angel on his white, sleek cycle? I hadn't
dared to imitate him too much, my own leather suit was navy blue, the arms
were the only decoration, yellow, with red and white flame-shaped stripes
on the upper arms. Even so, the leather suit had cost me $1,800.00, and I'd
had to pay for some careful tailoring on it even after it had been cut to
my measurements.
     I had hoped to capture in blue what Angel had in white. When he moved
it was like poetry. His shining white motorcycle and his white leather suit
was like a vision come down from heaven. I have never met a man who
deserved his name more than Angel, named so by an overindulgent mother
because he was such a pretty baby. Such a name could have been a curse but
Angel grew up worthy of his moniker, more, it was impossible to imagine him
adorned with any other name. (I knew all this from his old school
yearbooks, the pictures his mother had shown me the night before, and any
number of talks with his friends both old and new). He wore his superiority
with style and gracious manners, one gesture of which was to accept me as
his friend when we'd met the past year at college. Other young men in
Angel's position-goodlooking, almost too pretty, well-dressed, gloriously
beautiful in the face and magnificently formed in the body-would have
suffered abuse from envious bullies but nobody bothered Angel. Men and
women alike beamed when he condescended to notice them as a part of his
world.
     Angel had long loved the motocross, and had owned his own motocross
bike since he was fourteen. Now at nineteen, he had a brace of trophies in
his room. Entranced by his movements on the motocross bike, the acrobatics
in the air with such flippant names as "can-can", "barhop", "lazyboy" and
"saran wrap," I had bravely bought myself a motocross cycle and the navy
blue leather suit I wore now, and set out to learn how to ride the damned
thing with Angel's tolerant help.
     Angel made it look so easy! Would I ever get over this sinking feeling
in the pit of my stomach every time I felt the bike slew slightly out of
normal?
     "Tell you what." He said when we were both back in position on the
other side. I could just hear him over the drumming of the engines, eager
to rev up to the mark and fly once more. The motocross motorcycle is really
a lightweight powerhouse, it was easy to make it jump into the air, grow
wings, and take flight. "Let's do the jump together, side by side. Only you
just watch me while I do it again."
     "Okay." I said and we were off once more. Side by side, we tooled down
the stretch. Evenly matched, we rammed up the ramp. I felt Angel's equal
for this moment, just this brief moment, I was in flight with him. When we
hit the ramp's top and began to fly, I barely knew what I was doing, when
he stood up and let go, I did, too, and as he stretched out his arms, I did
the same, and our fingers touched and he looked at me as we both flapped
our arms in freedom flight.
     Then he was sitting down again and I followed him slowly, sitting down
and still looking at him as he gripped his bars, as he landed ka-runch! And
I went spilling.
     A motocross bike is lightweight, and the leather suit is built to
absorb punishment when you spill, that is all that saved me from injury in
what turned out to be only an ignominious pratfall. As for bruises, well,
for the moment, only my pride was battered. I landed like a limp ragdoll,
which saves you more damage than you'd think it would, and my body was safe
from scrapes by my leather suit and the smoothness of the dirt road. It was
no feather bed, but it was better than landing on jagged rocks and prickly
bushes.
     "Josh? Josh!" Angel called out and suddenly, somehow (or maybe some
time passed, I was dazed), he was beside me, bending over me, the helmet
gone from his head, peering down at me like an angel from heaven.
     I felt a silly grin on my face. "Hello." I said.
     "Josh, are you all right? Just lie still for a moment."
     "I'm fine." I said. "Just fine."
     "Can you move your toes?"
     "Huh? Oh, yeah, I can move." I said after checking it. "Just just a
little dizzy."
     "Just lie still for a while." Angel said and took my head on his lap,
holding it there with his hands and arms.
     I was where I had always wanted to be. Months of knowing Angel,
desiring him from that first moment, taking with gratitude the crumbs he
dealt me for being his friend, sharing his life and yet not sharing it
enough. And now I was where I had always longed to be, cradled in his arms.
     Can you blame me, then, for stretching this time out, for playing ill?
I let my eyelids droop so I was only seeing him through my eyelashes, and
the sun in his hair turned it into a halo.
     "You look like an angel." I murmured.
     He only smiled genially at that. "Lie still. You're shaken up."
     "You better believe I am." I said. And my arm went up on its own,
without my telling it to, and cupped his cheek in its palm.
     He didn't brush my hand away. He didn't! He let it stay there,
touching him, smiling down at me. And I started to smile, felt my lips
crackle, licked them and then smiled timidly.
     His face lowered itself down to mine, his lips his lips were warm as
sunshine, soft as a mother's hand upon her infant's back while he slumbers,
he pressed those lips, those wonders, against my own, and his hands
tightened and pulled me up toward him.
     I went with those hands how could I not? Had it meant my death, I
would have risen up as I did, to a semi-sitting position, with Angel
kneeling over me, reaching my face up to his, our lips becoming one
melding, melting, joining in tender delight.
     His arm at my back snaked down to grasp me, my arms reached up like a
tulip's petals to cup his shoulders, his hand on my chest slid down to
grasp oh, God! To grasp me there, oh, God! If this was a dream, let me
never awaken again!
     The zipper on a leather suit is in two parts, the top one starts at
your throat and runs down to your navel. There a single snap fastener holds
the waistband together, and from there a second zipper runs down as a
regular fly. With both zippers unzipped and the snap unsnapped, the leather
suit opens up like a banana peels.
     Angel's hand was feeling my cock through the leather, stirring my
groin beneath, then his fingers caught the tab of my zipper and the new
shiny metal obligingly rasped down for him.
     "Oh, God!" I gasped as his hand reached inside, before he had even
fought his way through the barricade of my jockstrap, even as his fingers
wrestled with the elastic band, my body shuddered in anticipation that was
as acute as any masturbation I had yet experienced. And when he touched it,
touched my dong. "Gah!" I gasped, lowering my head so I could see this, see
his white-leathered arm against my navy-blue-leathered crotch, see the hand
of an Angel upon my manhood. I was panting like any old, feeble asthmatic
geezer would, trying to summon up words, trying to encompass the orgy of
sensations racing around my body, trying to do anything other than what I
was, lying here in Angel's arms while his hand lifted my prick into the
warm air, the cockhead boiling red with inflamed fury, and he pumped my
prick.
     And I sprayed my wad right then, like an overeager teenager. Like a
foolish youngster who had never felt anything like this before, and when
the sensations hit him he was lost. Like like me.
     Angel took it as a compliment, he pumped me even harder and as I was
spasming in his embrace, he urged me onwards. "Come on, Josh, shoot it,
man, shoot it hard, yeah, get it all over yourself, come on, yeah, man,
yeah!"
     Done, my face flushed, my brow coated in sweat, my energy ebbing down
into the sewer, I had to look up into that angelic countenance, had to
smile at him, ashamed to my very core at my adolescent reaction, so that
one touch from him had sent me into orgasmic ardor.
     "Oh, man!" I heaved. "Oh, man!"
     "Man, you really were hot, weren't you?" Angel seemed to think it all
a good joke, my situation.
     I closed my eyes in agony. "I'm sorry." I gasped out.
     "Sorry for what?" Angel wanted to know.
     "You touched me and I just just lost it."
     "Hey." Angel said to me. "Don't worry about it. As much as you've been
panting after me, I didn't expect you to last very long."
     "You knew?" I asked him.
     He laughed. "How could I not know? You strip me with your eyes every
time you look at me. My face and my crotch, you look back and forth every
two seconds, whenever we're together. What's not to know?"
     "I'm sorry." I said again.
     "Don't be." Angel said. "You're here, aren't you? You think I invite
everyone back to my house to spend the summer?" His mother had commented on
how he never invited anyone out to visit with them before, but it had been
part of a long diatribe from her, and I hadn't thought about it.
     Angel helped me up to my feet and I stood before him, my come in
pearly globs on my leather suit, my cock hanging out, looking at him in
virginal white, like a bride. And he was mine he wanted me!
     With that thought, strength surged again in my watery bones like a
jolt of lightning and I felt a confidence that belied my soiled state, I
reached out brazenly and tugged down the long top zipper, to expose the
clean flesh beneath Angel didn't wear any undershirt!
     My hands fought the leather apart, it wanted to embrace his supple
skin the same as me, but I tugged it away from him and my lips reached for
one distended nipple, caught and suckled the tender nub. Angel's hands
cupped my buttocks and pulled our crotches together, he ground up against
me, ramming his dong against mine.
     Hell, I didn't need any hints on what to do next. It was his turn Or
should I say, my turn to do what I'm dreamed of every night since I'd met
him last fall.
     Leather kneepads sewn into the suit protected my knees as I fell to
the ground. His snap at the waist popped with a happy noise and his zipper
gave way eagerly no briefs or jock either! He was nude under this suit!
God, leather feels good on a guy, but you also want a little cushioning
between you and that too-clinging material. I'd noticed how much a part of
his skin this suit seemed to be without thinking about what that meant, it
was practically glued to him by his own sweat glands!
     His cock boiled in a cauldron of sweat, the heady aroma hit me and
curled up inside my nostrils, steaming like a cobra snake dancing on its
tail, tongue darting out to touch my internal membranes, trailing moist
lines of identification upon my brain this was Angel, the real Angel, all
of him was there, this is who he was. In this way, he gave himself to me.
     His cock came free of its nest to nod its head at me, a purplish-hued
bulb in his so-white body in this so-white suit, it glistened and gleamed
at me, a shiny cherry begging me to ingest it.
     My lips curled around the plump plum of his glans, and the taste of
Angel was there, salty, sweaty, heavy and yet rampant with the energy of
youth, it seethed out and dribbled onto my tongue, dotting my tastebuds
with pre-come's uniquely savory blend of hormones and promise.
     "Uuuh, yeah!" Angel groaned. "Mmm, yeah!" as I began to work the ripe
prick, sending the foreskin seething over the glans and then driving the
fleshy mass back into submission again, it was rich, it was velvety smooth
and creamily soft and when it roiled over his glans again, it was a triumph
of tidal-wave-like assault that bunched over his cockhead and I held him
like that, and stuck my tongue into the tiny hole left there by his
foreskin.
     "Uuh, uh, yeah!" Angel grunted. "Man, you do that so good! Come on,
suck it some more." I was happy to comply with such an earnest wish from
such a beautiful face, I began to work him in a more intense way, now I was
wringing his pleasure from him, and as I plied my skill upon his pud, he
began to sway back and forth in time to my movements, prolonging each
stroke that way, and I deepened my own motions to wring him further and
further delights, his cock burned and seethed upon my tongue until it was a
steel-hard column that didn't bend in the least as I drove it into my
throat, instead it pummeled the back of my throat, and Angel was grunting,
moaning, and I knew he was at the edge of his climax.
     I wanted it, I wanted it all, I caught him by his hips and I drove
that huge schlong into me and I held it deep within me, and gave him only
the slightest movement to bring him on over the top, and Angel groaned,
gasped, strangled, and with an explosion of sound from his lips, I felt the
heavy prick release its flood of jism into my mouth and throat and I sucked
down the salty ambrosia gladly, it was a thick, warm mass that slipped down
my gullet like so much ice cream would, and then Angel was clutching at me,
holding himself erect by clinging to me as well as he could, and it was
over and I had to let him go though there was nothing I wanted less than to
release this body now that I had it.
     But a man has his duties, I carefully tucked his dong back into his
pants before I rose, giving him the dignity of facing me with his face
flushed and his eyes softened by expended desire, and a hitch at my crotch
flipped my own prick back into its confinement, and in that discreet and
modest dress, I wrapped my angel in my arms and pressed our lips together
once more.
     Angel kissed me in a way that was all-out, giving all of himself to
me, and I took it with worship and awe, and returned to him myself.
     Angel's hand stroked my hair like you would a child's, with affection
and tenderness. "Damn." He said to me reverently. "I was wondering if I was
ever going to get you to try anything."
     "I wanted to." I said. "I just couldn't figure out how."
     "I know." He smiled. "You were just so damned shy."
     "So why didn't you try anything, if you knew?" I returned to him.
     He laughed. "Because if I had, you would have creamed in your pants
right then and there, wherever we were."
     "Hey!" I protested. "I was just turned on then. Next time I'll last as
long as you want me to."
     "I'll test you out on that tonight." He chided me, not viciously but
the way two old friends can push each other's limits without offense. "Bet
you'll spurt all over the wall if I'm not careful where I aim it."
     Tonight. I felt a warm feeling in my stomach. "Yeah, well, we'll see
about that." I said. "Bet I'll last longer than you will."
     "Okay, tonight." He said. "Now, let's get back on our bikes. We have a
lot to do if you're going to go with me to Hanover for the rally next
weekend."
     "Can I go as your pit crew?" I said as I followed him. "I have to
admit that I hate riding motorcycles."
     Stunned, he turned and looked at me. Then burst out in laughter as he
understood what I had gone through to be with him. "Okay, then, you can
just watch me practice the rest of the afternoon."
     So I made myself comfortable in the shade of a tree and watched my
angel as he took wing, again and again. Admiring the simple beauty of an
angel in flight.

				  THE END
		   Comments, complaints or suggestions?
		  E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM