Date: Wed, 2 Aug 2006 22:29:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: E. Rex <speedorex@yahoo.com>
Subject: Cyclist Zack

I don't remember exactly when it was when I first saw him, but I remember
when I really started to notice him.  A group of us guys, competitive
amateur cyclists would get together several times a week for training
rides.  Most of us had black cycling shorts and whatever team jersey was at
hand.  We had great bikes, sure, with the latest in lightness and
technology, titanium, carbon fiber and all that, but we had basic cycling
kit.

He was different.  When he rode up to the group the first time I really
noticed him, and when I did, I started to stiffen in my own lycra shorts.
He had a sense of style, a sense of slickness and hipness for cycling that
was incredible.  He also had a hot bod, sculpted by hours of cycling,
surely, but also clearly by hours of lifting in the gym.  Of mid height,
from the his neck to his ankles his body screamed fitness.  He rode up the
first time in bright, lime green, slick looking cycling shorts.  Matching
shirt, cool sunglasses and hot looking shoes completed his pretty boy
cyclist look.  As he dismounted his bike that first time, I noticed the
sleek curve of his bubble but, sticking out in just the right places, his
glutes curving with muscle, so alluring, so appetizing, so cycling ready...

For the first several weeks we didn't talk.  He would arrive just before
our little practice peloton got underway, and we would take off at top
speed.  I would admire him from afar, and he would take off right after the
rides.  He was just so perfect in every way.  I quickly fell for him,
fantasized about him, wanted to be like him.  This jock with such a sense
of style apparently had a secret source for the hottest in cycling clothes.
I searched for his latest outfits online, but was always frustrated. I also
thought "this guy has got to be gay," as he was just so perfectly male in a
bravado sort of way, panache, pretty boy style, and pushed the envelope in
stylish gear.  Even his cycling gloves were slick, and shouted "style."
There was just sort of an aura around him, a quiet certainty that he was a
slick jock, a top amateur, one hot dude.  That year Subaru was sponsoring
the Tour de France on TV with some great ads and was very "hip."  What kind
of car did he drive?  A brand new Subaru, of course.  When I finally found
out his name, how perfect could it be?  He was named Zack.

Once on a mechanical stop I looked around for Zack.  We had ridden so far
we had gotten out into the country, in the middle of wheat fields.  One of
us had a flat tire.  I thought this was my chance to get to know him
better, so I looked around, having rehearsed what I might say.  I couldn't
see him among the other guys, but finally looked up the edge of the field,
across the road and up the hill.  Zack was standing with his face toward
the setting sun, half of his lycra clad glutes facing us, the other half
were not lycra clad but shone forth in half moon glory.  Zack was relieving
himself into the golden wheat fields, a silhouette of cycling manliness
filling our horizon.  I have never been interested in urine, but boy did I
want to be down in that wheat field looking up at that moment.

I first met Zack personally one day when I was out cycling on my own.  I
was far out in the country and came across a little town with an ice cream
stand.  I pulled up for a pit stop and to get some fluids.  As I sat there
resting, I leaned back and closed my eyes.  As I opened them, blocking my
vision, who should be there but Zack, with a smile on his tanned and
windburned face.

"How's it hanging?" he asked.

"Not bad" I said.  "You're far from home."

"Yeah," he said, "just getting some solo time, heading away from the city."

"So, you're all alone?"  I said, suddenly thinking that altho I was nearing
the end of my ride and heading back into the city, I would readily ride a
lot longer just to ride with him.

"Nah," he said.  "Well, I'm riding alone, but I got the bimba and bambino
with me."  I turned and there was that hip Subaru, being driven by a woman,
obviously his wife, with a child at her side.

"It's great to have a lead car, or like today a car following with
supplies," he said.  "We switch off," he said, "she'll drive for me and
watch the baby, or I'll drive for her."

"I do most of the driving" she said as she approached us with a wry smile,
obviously looking frustrated and tense.

We chatted about this and that, and got to know more about each other, but
there was clear tension between the two.  I was glad to get the opportunity
to get to know Zack, and he seemed genuinely to enjoy talking with me.
They had met in high school and gotten married at graduation.  As I got to
know Zack better, a couple of times I had to shift in my shorts to "hide my
excitement."  No need giving away your thoughts about prospects with the
wife standing by.  Was I imagining it, or did I see Zack squirm in a
similar way?  We seemed to get along so well and be drawn to each other
through our conversation, through our mutual interests.  I was drawn to him
by his looks and sense of style, he to me, I hoped, by the same thoughts.
After a while we were finished with our rest stop.  Had I been with Zack
alone I would have ridden on, but since it was the family, I said goodbye
and headed back into town.  I had made a show of needing to get going, so
as I left I told Zack I had some cycling questions for him and got his cell
number.

A few days later, during a crucial mountain stage of the Tour, I asked some
of my best buds over.  We had all been friends since we were all coming
out, and had supported each other for a long time.  We were all decent
athletes and good looking, I was the best cyclist, but we all enjoyed
watching 180 men clad in only lycra riding through the French Countryside.
I invited Zack, and asked the guys to be cool.

"Should I bring the family" he asked.  I said

"You could, but it will be all guys."  Maybe this could be my chance, I
thought.

When he arrived he explained his wife was going out with friends, and they
had found a sitter for the "bambino."

That night was a lot of fun.  We cheered our favorites on.  My friends
started to drink heavily, with Belgian beer I had bought for the party.
Me, in training, didn't drink.  As things loosened up there was some
affection between us, back slaps, sure, but a kiss here and there.  The
first few times Zack had a look of scorn on his face, but then he quieted
down and seemed to ignore it.  When he got bored with the cycling action,
my studly weightlifting friend Clint started to make comments about the
lycra, about the boners, real or imagined that the cyclists were throwing,
and making general comments on the size of cycling equipment compared to
other athlete equipment.  Once again, this seemed to annoy Zack at first,
but then he dealt with it by ignoring it.  One of my more sober friends
started to ask about the cycling kit, technical questions about fabric,
fit, etc. Knowing it would be easier to show them, I asked for Zack's help.
He protested, but I took him in my bedroom (oh how I had been longing for
this since I had seen him first).  To quiet him down I threw an outfit at
him, the very cool looking yellow and black and metallic white outfit of
the dismatled ONCE squad, one of the few cool outfits that I owned, and was
it ultracool....  This I had complete, from the socks to the shorts, the
jersey to the gloves.  At that point, he stopped protesting.  That pretty
boy cyclist with the sense of style just had to try it on.  As he stripped
completely I kept my eye one him, not directly but through the
strategically placed mirrors throughout my bedroom.  I got a complete view
of his tanned and naked body, from his seven inch cock to the stylized
tatoo he had on his back, just below the neckline.  His ass stuck out
prominently.  Clearly he had no padding under those shorts, at least not
there!

I started to get charged up, so I quickly threw on a pair of my inky black
bib shorts, staying shirtless, so the straps running up to my shoulders
framed my pecs and my washboard abs.  I quickly ducked out of the bedroom
and held my lips to my fingers to my friends, as I adjusted myself down in
front of them.  Zack then came out, geeked up like a pro.  We explained the
parts of the cycling kit to my friends, and they kept making suggestive
comments until the end of the stage on TV.

I thought maybe he ignored what my friends were saying.  Actually, he heard
every word.  As my buds were leaving, Zack was lingering, still clad in his
super hot cycling gear.  I still had on the bib shorts, too.  As my last
friend left, Zack asked

"Can I talk to you bud?"  I said

"Sure, what can I do to you, uh, for you?"

Zack said "You're gay, right, I picked that up tonight?"

"Yeah," I said, "what of it."

"Nah, don't wanna be hostile, dude," he said, and he began to pour out his
story, the first love in high school, the supposed pregnancy, the wedding,
the unhappiness, the later bambino, the sexual problems and confusion.  He
never really had close guy friends, he said, because he worried about how
it made him feel, feelings he wasn't sure he should have for other men.
That's why he arrived just before the group headed out and left just after.
That's why he cycled, and did play team sports.  He told me that he had
tried to pour out his confusion into his cycling, but how it didn't always
work, that his wife was frustrated and unhappy.  He said cycling was his
life, but he found himself stirred in many ways by looking at the other hot
cyclists, ways he was unsure of.

"Kinda like your friends were talking tonight," he said.

"I'm so glad we got to know each other, cos I needed a guy friend to talk
things out with" He told me that he so much needed to come tonight, just to
have the feeling of hanging with a guy friend, that he had gotten into a
terrible argument with his wife, and she had told him not to come back if
he left to come to my place.  That's why he was hanging, because he had no
place to go tonight.

As he talked he looked like he was getting more and more emotional, and
finally his macho pretty boy exterior cracked and he began to sob.  His
frustration and confusion of many years was coming to a head tonight.  I
couldn't help but think how lucky I was to be there to pick up the pieces.
I put my arm around him and rubbed my hand across his silky back, and over
to his other shoulder, pulling him close.  Of course, I started to get
horned up, as my arousal at having him so close wouldn't quit.  My nips
started tingling as they rubbed against the shoulder straps of my bib
shorts.  My cock began to slide in its lycra casing as it slithered up to
say hello to a new friend.  I noticed that he, too, was getting excited in
more ways than one.

"I've been so confused" he sobbed.  And added "I always thought all those
feelings I had for other men were wrong."

"Shhh."  I said, as I calmed him down.  "Just go with what you're feeling."
I brought his hands to my pecs then I massaged him through his silky
jersey.  Then, I sensed the incredible attraction between us, as I leaned
in close and pressed my lips to his.

"Wait" he moaned,"

"Just go with your feelings" I assured him.  He leaned in then, and pressed
his lips into mine, I heard him groan as he pressed his body into mine, and
slithered his tongue into my mouth.  We kissed for some time, as I could
tell each of us got harder and harder.

Finally I said

"Zack, you're such a manly stud, such a cyclist, I am so glad to know you.
I wouldn't want to jeopardize what we have together, but I can show you so
much more, if you want it.  Just go with the feeling"

His moan told me all I wanted to know, so I pressed on.  I lowered the
zipper on his jersey, and slid it over his neck.  As soon as that was done,
I rubbed his pecs with my bare hands, and circled his nips with my fingers.
Leaning in I sucked at them until he started to purr almost, or that's what
it sounded like.  I straightened up and layed him the rest of the way out
on the couch, as I drove my still lycra clad dick into his...

"Unh, that feels so good" he groaned as I slid my warm body down over his
and ended up at the hem of his shorts, actually my own shorts which I had
craftily gotten onto him.  Now I would just as craftily get him out of
them.  I rubbed him through those shorts, as I leaned in and then slid down
his waistband and took his now nine inch cock to my lips.  I tongued at his
sweet spot, and then down his shaft to his balls, taken them both into my
mouth.  Then, I tongued back up and quickly took his head into my mouth,
and then sunk his entire cock, well almost entire, into my throat.  He
moaned

"My wife does this, but nowhere near as good."  And wriggled his toes and
thighs in ecstacy.  His glutes were still captive in his shorts, and I
rubbed these globes with my hands.  He began to rub my head and pull it
closer.

"How does it taste" he asked, "I always wondered how a man's cock would
taste," he said.  I slid up and kissed him again, and then pulled on the
back of his neck, his hard cock sliding against my cock which was hard, but
still clad in my bib short...  Kissing him deeply, and flicking my tongue
through his lips, I pulled him past the TV and into my bedroom, and said

"If you want to taste another stud's cock, the time is now."

I pulled down my shoulder straps and peeled off my shorts, letting my cock,
now at full masted attention, spring around unbound.  He had stripped out
of his shorts then, and came in for another kiss.  As he pressed his lips
to mine, I began to feel pleasure, from top to bottom.  This is what it was
all about!  He sucked at my nipples as if he would never again have the
chance to taste a real man.  As he moved downward he even stuck his tongue
in my belly button, and then followed the treasure trail downward with his
tongue.  As he took my cock into his mouth, just once I had to say "watch
the teeth," and then he was like a pro about his business, surely imitating
the expert lessons I had just given him.  After about ten minutes of pure
bliss, I was near the edge.  I pulled out of his mouth and breathed in long
enough to say

"69?"  He looked up with a question on his face.

I said "lay down on the bed."  Then I lay next to him in position, took his
cock back into my mouth, and guided my cock to his lips.  He finally worked
out the rhythm, and began to suck for all he was worth, as he experienced
exploring a buds ass with his hands for the first time.  We went at it for
some time, glorious man-sex passion, cyclist passion, jock stud passion.  I
knew I was getting close and I knew from the way he was writhing that he
must be, so I took his hard cock out of my mouth long enough to say

"After I cum don't spit and don't swallow."  As I finished, I wetted my
index finger, and as I deep throated him again, I reached around and
fingered him, then thrust my index finger into his hole, pulling on his ass
flesh with my other hand.  I could feel the vibrations of his pleasure on
my cock as I did this to him, he was humming or purring or whatever, and it
gave me spasms of pleasure, and then we released a the same time, with
spurts of milky white cum coating our mouths and our lips.  When I knew he
was finished I turned again so that we were manhood to manhood, pecs to
pecs, lips to lips.  I pressed my lips into his and my tongue into his
mouth, and had him taste his own man juices for the first time.  As we lay
after in a daze, he said

"Aw, I didn't know anything could be this great."

"Zack," I said, "it only gets better."

As I drifted off to sleep, I realized that I might have stripped
completely, but good old Zack was still wearing the hip cycling fashion
accents I had thrown at him before: the ONCE socks and the very pretty boy
looking black, yellow, and metallic white cycling gloves...


If you like this let me know, if you want more, also:

speedorex@yahoo.com