Date: Thu, 2 Aug 2007 18:16:25 -0700
From: qwb224@gmail.com
Subject: '52 Panhead Ch 1

'52 Panhead

Ch 1


The guttural throb of the '52 Panhead pulsed through the
still air of the old garage. I scooted my ass back on the
seat to put my feet up on the highway pegs, grabbed the
bars, and imagined I was flying down the road, putting the
miles behind me. Several of us rented space in the red brick
historical building - mostly guys into old cars, but a few
with bikes, like me. This particular mid-January night at a
little after eight, I was alone.

After a moment, I thought I heard something in the stroked
motor and slid forward so I could listen better. My crotch
made contact with the gas tank, and the growl of the engine
vibrated my balls and dick right through my jeans. I
scooched a little further up so that the base of the tank
pressed just below my nuts, and after a few moments, I had a
pretty good hard-on going.

Just as I shoved a hand down my jeans to straighten out my
dick, a low voice asked, "Am I interrupting something?" A
guy was standing at the edge of the light cast by my
fluorescent. "Wouldn't want to come between a man and his
Harley." His voice was deep and there was humor behind the
words.

"Uh... no" I stammered, yanking my hand out of my pants.
"Thought I heard something in the motor." Turning off the
engine, I slid back on the seat and faced him. "Lookin' for
somebody?"

"Nope, just heard the bike. Sounded like a stroker and
thought I'd take a look. Early `50s Pan?"

"Yeah, '52. And it is a stroker - 84 inch."

I looked at him more closely, but he was mostly in shadow,
and all I could see were the polished toes of a pair of
black wing tips. It was an odd moment - him standing
silently just out of sight, me watching him - and something
about it seemed almost familiar. I waved him closer with my
hand, and after a slight hesitation, he stepped into the
light.

Christ, he was gorgeous. He was wearing dark suit slacks
that fit him well, with the jacket slung over his shoulder,
and the loose tie hanging from his unbuttoned shirt collar
made me instantly think about undressing him further. He
looked to be a few inches taller than my 5'10", with black
hair curling over the collar of his shirt. His face was
strong, his jaw a little heavy and covered in black stubble.
More black hair peeked out of the neck of his white t-shirt,
sprinkled the backs of his hands, and disappeared up his
forearms into his rolled up sleeves.

He was lean, with the leggy, broad shouldered body of a
swimmer in contrast to my heavier, more muscular build. The
slacks hugged his thighs as he squatted down by my leg near
the back of the bike. He had a nice package going in his
trousers, and I gave it a considering look while he was
checking out the pipes.

Glancing up at me as he stood, he held my gaze a split
second longer than necessary, then wandered over to the
bench, looking at the tools I had scattered around. My tool
was responding to him, stretching its way up my belly as I
watched him. When he picked up a torque wrench and ran his
fist leisurely up and down the stainless steel shaft, my
cock hardened so quickly that I groaned.

He shot me another glance, put the wrench down, and as he
began walking toward the door, I realized he had a slight
limp. When he passed me, he reached out a hand to touch the
gas tank right where my balls had been. For a wild moment I
thought he was gonna grab my crotch, but he kept walking,
and when he brought his hand back, his arm brushed across my
belly as he passed me. At his touch, my gut clenched tight
and my dick jerked.

I sat there staring at the door as the sound of his foot
steps faded away. Jesus, I hadn't reacted to someone that
strongly in years. I have a pretty active sex life - mostly
with a few guys I know, and occasionally with a guy I don't
- but shit, this dude turned me inside out in less than five
minutes, and he was gone before I had the wits to get his
name, number, or any other damn thing.

Fuck.

I cleaned up and put my tools away, stopping to run my hand
up and down the torque wrench, wanting to feel what he'd
felt in those few seconds. As I gripped the wrench, I looked
across the circle of light to where he'd stood, remembering
again the odd feeling I'd gotten. I tried to put my finger
on it, but finally shook my head in frustration, unable to
nail exactly what I'd felt.

I had a beer when I got home, sitting at the kitchen table
with the dog at my feet. Since my cock was still half hard
from my encounter with the mystery man, I unzipped my jeans.
Knowing it was about to get some attention, my dick came
fully to life, pushing insistently up my belly. I closed my
eyes as I kneaded my nuts, thinking about the contours of
the bulge in his trousers.

I'm a leaker, and by the time I moved my hand to my cock,
the front of my shorts was wet with precum. I slicked it
down my pole and started stroking, tightening my fist over
my cock head each time until I was right on the edge. Then I
pulled my t-shirt up, tweaking my nipples for a few minutes
while I finished the beer. Once, when my dick bobbed
frantically up from my belly, desperate for relief, the dog
tipped his head and gave it a quizzical look.

Finally, I put the empty on the table and got back to
business, gripping my balls in one hand as I stroked quickly
with the other. Less than a minute later I was spewing cum
onto my bare chest, a couple hard shots followed by several
long drizzles, panting all the while. When I was good and
drained, I wiped up with a napkin and went in to bed.

You know how sometimes you get a terrible yen for something,
but you're not even sure what it is? One of those longings
that makes it tough to fall asleep, and nibbles at the edge
of your thoughts when you're stuck on hold or sitting in
traffic? Well, I had it bad. The next few weeks I was
restless and irritable, and I had no fucking clue what the
problem was, except I figured it had something to do with
this guy. Night after night, I found myself glancing at the
door every time someone came in, but Fate is a moody bitch,
and he didn't show, so finally I quit looking.

January petered out in gray, rainy days that drained the sky
of color and reminded me of his eyes, the little I'd seen of
them. February started out the same, but improved steadily,
so that by the 18th, the sun was out more than not, and the
trees were starting to think about greening up.

Around 10pm, when I'd almost convinced myself I'd never see
him again, I heard boots headed my way. They were just a
little uneven, barely enough to notice, but I heard it. I
didn't turn around, just kept wiping my hands on a rag - but
my dick stirred and I knew it was him. The boots stopped a
few feet away, and my heart thumped real hard against my
ribs a few times before I put down the rag and turned slowly
to face him. He was standing just inside the light, his eyes
roaming over my face, stopping on my mouth for a moment,
then coming back up to meet my gaze. Tonight he was wearing
black jeans, a snug white t-shirt, and a pair of well-used
Doc Martens, and he looked even better than he had the first
night.

That odd sensation swept through me again, and I thought,
This. This is what I want.

I wasn't sure what the hell he was doing back here again, I
just knew I was glad to see him. We looked at each other for
a few tense seconds. He didn't seem inclined to move from
his patch of concrete, so finally I leaned back against the
bench and spread my feet in invitation. He studied my boots
for a moment like he was thinking about it, then stepped
between my legs. Now we were staring at each other from a
foot apart, and my heart rate went nuts again when he licked
his lips.

The anticipation was killing me, but there was something
going on here, something I didn't want to disturb, so I
didn't grab him and shove my tongue down his throat like I
wanted to; I just stood there and waited for him while my
dick leaked into my sweaty underwear.

Our gaze held as he tilted his head and leaned slowly toward
me, closing his eyes a split second before our lips met. Oh,
my God. We weren't touching anywhere else - just our mouths
- and there was so much going on in those first few seconds
that my knees started to shake. I clenched my hands into
fists as something moved in the pit of my stomach, something
I'd never felt before and couldn't put a name to.

Jesus, this guy could kiss. His lips were soft and warm
against mine, and his tongue was hard, probing my mouth
insistently. When the kiss wound down, I pulled my head back
slightly, took a shaky breath, and demanded, "What the fuck
is your name?"

He chuckled, a low, throaty 'heh-heh-heh' that stirred the
something deep in my belly again. "Evan. Yours?"

"Jeff." I smiled back at him. "Where'd you learn to kiss
like that?"

Instead of replying, he kissed me again, and this time I was
ready for him. When we broke apart, we were breathing hard
and he was rubbing his dick through his jeans. I reached
down and pushed his hand aside, shoving my fingers deep
between his legs and pulling his whole package forward,
squeezing gently.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned softly and leaned into me, his hands
braced on my chest, and then he bit my neck hard enough to
make my dick lurch.

I pushed him back a step, far enough to yank his belt apart,
popped the buttons down his 501s like I was being timed, and
stuck my hand in his pants. His cock sprang up to meet me,
slapping into my hand with an enthusiastic smack. He snorted
in amusement as he moved his hands to my nipples, working
them gently through my t-shirt.

I pushed his underwear down so that I could see him. His
cock was beautiful - dark pink, lean and toned like the rest
of his body, with a head larger than the shaft. Just the way
I like 'em. He didn't have a porn star cock, huge and veiny;
instead it was just average sized, a little smaller than
mine, which was kind of reassuring since the rest of him was
so delicious. His black bush was trimmed, and his balls were
hairless, heavy ovals that hung low over the front of his
jeans when I lifted them free.

My left hand jerked his cock steadily while I undid my own
pants and sank to my knees in front of him. As I buried my
face in his crotch, he ran his fingers through my hair, then
cupped his hand around my head, and slid his other hand up
his chest. I sucked on his balls and licked his belly,
occasionally running my tongue up his dick. The smell of him
was potent and it worked on me like a drug, blotting
everything else from my mind.

While I was circling the tip of his cock with my tongue, he
was watching my mouth with an expression close to pain on
his face. I slowed down and waited til his eyes shifted up
to mine. After a second, his face softened a little and he
blinked at me, so I got back to business. When I got serious
about sucking his cock, he spread his feet and gripped the
edge of the bench. As he got into it, he began fucking my
mouth, so I got a finger wet, then reached deep and poked it
in his ass.

He let out a strangled cry and began to pump hard, ramming
himself down my throat, his nails leaving marks in the
bench. I swallowed the first shot, then spit his cock out
and finished him by hand. His second and third shots hit me
in the chest, and the rest pulsed out over my fingers and
dripped onto the floor, making little white puddles on the
dusty concrete.

I wiped my mouth as I got to my feet, then hoisted myself up
onto the bench. I was rock hard and leaking precum like
crazy, so I sat there slowly stroking and dripping while he
got his breath back. Finally, he turned to me and said,
"Where the fuck did you learn to suck cock like that?" - a
parody of my earlier question. I just grinned at him and he
turned toward me, replacing my hand with his own on my dick.
He let out a quick breath and looked down. "Fuck, dude,
you're hung."

He looked into my eyes for a second, then back at my dick,
shaking his head slightly. He growled softly as he ran his
hand up and down, the engorged veins of my penis pulsing in
his fist. His other hand wandered over my chest, and when he
had me twisting into his hands and moaning, he slid his
tongue out of my mouth and bent to my cock.

In my not-so-humble opinion, a really good mouth is better
than an asshole every time, especially if the guy pays
attention. Then he can fine tune things and just blow you
away, no pun intended.

Well, Evan paid attention, and by the time I was ready to
shoot, my toes were cramped, my molars ached, and the
muscles in my ass were clenched so tight I was trembling. He
stayed with me as I unloaded and I could see his throat
working, trying to keep up with me. When he lifted his head,
my cum glistened at one corner of his mouth. Fuck, I almost
came again just lookin' at him. I pulled him to me, licked
it off, then kissed him, tasting us both.

When I figured my knees would hold, I pushed him back a
little and hopped off the bench, stuffing my dick back in my
pants and zipping up as I headed for the fridge. When I got
back with two long necks, he was sitting bare-assed on the
bench where I'd been, his jeans puddled on top of the Docs,
looking down at his hands. I handed him a beer and hopped up
next to him, putting a hand on his leg and giving him a
squeeze. He swung his head toward me and said, "Thanks"
softly, smiling at me a little. I didn't know if he was
thanking me for the beer or the blow job, so I just nodded.

 "I been hoping you'd come back. I was pissed that I hadn't
asked your name or anything." I stopped, feeling like a
virgin teenager with a schoolboy crush. "Anyway.. fuck. I'm
glad you're here."

Jesus, Jeff. I rolled my eyes at myself and looked away in
disgust, wishing to Christ he'd say something. The silence
stretched out, and finally my nerves started to go, so I
lift my hand off his leg, but just then he curled his
fingers over mine and squeezed hard.

I turned back to him, meeting his mouth as he kissed me long
and deep. He slid my hand slowly up his leg until I was
palming his cock, which was about half hard. Holding my hand
in place, he pushed up into it, groaning as the pressure
increased and he got harder. He was still kissing me, his
groan vibrating into my mouth, when I felt his hand on my
fly. He pulled my cock out and started stroking me slowly,
his hand warm and snug, and it felt fucking great.

After a few minutes, I slid off the bench and tugged on his
dick until he hopped off next to me.

"Lose the jeans," I ordered.

My voice was rough with arousal, and I dropped my pants as
he quickly untied the Docs, toed them off and stepped out of
his 501s. I put both arms around him, running one hand up
behind his neck and spreading the other low on his back. He
worked my nipples with one hand and kissed me as he stroked
my dick slowly.

I slid my hand down, grabbing a handful of his hard, round
butt, and then slid a finger into the crack of his ass. He
clenched for a second, then spread his feet a little more
and leaned into me so I could reach him easier.

His asshole was warm and soft, still a little wet from our
first round, but I pulled my finger back and shoved it in
his mouth next to my tongue. We loaded it with spit and I
slid it in more gently this time, rubbing just behind his
balls with my other fingers. It wasn't long before he was
pushing back against my hand, so I loaded him up with
another finger, and after a minute he broke the kiss to rest
his forehead on my shoulder, breathing hard.

Turning his face to my neck, he said softly, "I want you to
fuck me," his breath hot on my skin. "I gotta see what that
thing feels like in my ass."

Don't have to ask me twice. I jiggled my fingers in him,
making him first gasp, then groan with pleasure. "I was
hoping you'd say that," I replied.

Turning him toward the bike, I watched while he climbed on,
standing on the pegs. I slid on behind him and pushed him
forward til his head was out over the headlight and his ass
was in the air. The view from where I was sitting was
spectacular, and I admired it for a moment. The dark pink
weight of his balls swung between his long legs, and his
round white ass just begged me to bite it, so I did, making
him jump a little and chuckle again, 'heh-heh.' He reached
back between his legs and dragged a finger across his hole a
couple times, then cupped his nuts in his palm and stretched
them down. That little show got my attention, and I buried
my face in his ass.

Evan moaned when I ran my tongue from his balls up to his
hole and circled a couple times. While I worked on his butt,
flicking my tongue, then sucking my way down to his nuts, he
jerked his dick slowly, a thin strand of precum hanging from
the tip, making a shiny pinstripe down the side of the rusty
tank.

Grabbing his hips, I pulled Evan back toward me until his
asshole hit the tip of my cock, and then I eased up to let
him control the action. He kept coming slowly until the head
of my dick popped past the tight ring of his pucker. Taking
several deep breaths, he slid down another couple inches,
then a little more, until pretty soon his ass was settled
against my belly. I gripped his shoulders and pulled him
slowly back against my chest, wrapping my arms around him as
he relaxed. His heart was pounding hard and he was shaking a
little.

"You ok?" I said softly.

"Yeah," he replied in an unsteady voice. "Just give me a
second."

He sat still for a couple minutes before sliding his hand
down to touch where my dick entered him. I could feel his
fingers tracing around his hole, then down my cock to stroke
my balls lightly. My cock flexed inside him, making us both
grunt with pleasure, and I could see him smile a little.

He began to move then, rising up about half way and sinking
slowly back onto my cock. About every fifth time, he'd go
clear up til just the head of my dick was still inside him,
then he'd make several short, quick strokes, gripping me
tight with his ass muscles.

I took that as long as I could, then grabbed him around the
waist, and held him down tight in my lap, gritting my teeth
in concentration. When he gave me a questioning look over
his shoulder, I shook my head. "That's too good."

I stood up, lifting him with me, pushing him forward, and
wrapped my hands around the front of his thighs. I pulled my
hips back, then yanked him back against me, driving my cock
deep. He gasped and dropped his head, pulling himself a
little farther forward over the bars as I started pounding
into him, fucking him hard. I watched my cock slide in and
out of his ass, and felt my balls banging into his. His dick
was slapping up against his belly with every thrust,
slinging precum all over the tank, and the wet, smacking
sound it made finally tripped my trigger.

"I'm gonna.. pop," I managed to grind out before I held him
tight against me and froze for a second, just on the edge.
He clamped his ass tight as my nuts emptied into him. When
he felt my dick pulsing, he gave his cock a couple quick
pumps. His first shot cleared the bars and landed out in
front of the bike. By the time he was finished, cum trickled
down both sides of the tank and pooled in the indentation
around the gas cap.

My knees collapsed and I pulled him down with me, my dick
still in his ass.

"Jesus H. fucking Christ," he muttered as he leaned back
against me. We sat there til my dick softened and slid free,
then we both got off the bike and cleaned up with a couple
of shop rags. We dressed silently, and when he had his boots
back on, he stood up, took my chin in his hand, and kissed
me. Pulling away, he looked into my eyes for a long moment,
his face expressionless, then turned and walked to the door.

Just as he reached the threshold, he stopped and looked back
over his shoulder at me.

"Maybe I'll see you again," he said mysteriously, stepped
through the doorway, and was gone.

I stood there like a dumb fuck, lost in a post-orgasmic
daze, until it hit me that I still hadn't gotten his Goddamn
phone number.

Fuck!

-----------------------------------------------------------

The next few months passed slowly. I thought a lot about
that night in the garage, about who he was, and if I'd ever
see him again. I jerked off to those memories every night
for weeks, but none of my orgasms even began to approach
what I'd felt with Evan. After a while, the whole thing
started to take on a dream-like quality, and I began to lose
the finer details of his face and voice, no matter how hard
I tried to see him in my mind's eye.

But I worked steadily on the Pan and made good progress. I
liked being at the garage; I felt closer to him there, and
teased myself with imagining him walking through the door.
What would he say? What would I do? Would we have anything
to talk about, or was it all about fucking?

Not so long ago, I'd have been fine with it being all about
fucking, but now.. now, I wanted something else, something
more.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The first weekend of May it was warm enough to ride without
bundling up like Nanook of the fucking North, so I hit the
road. The wind pounded into me as I flew along the old
blacktop road, flattening my t-shirt against my chest. The
muscles of my arms and chest and belly tightened as I held
the big bike into the curve, leaning the machine over as the
engine growled its way up the incline. The mountains were
spectacular this time of year - a million shades of green
and I had blown out of the city early, hungry for some
solitude. Although it was a Friday, the diner at the halfway
point was fairly empty, only a few tourists up and about. I
filled up on blueberry pancakes, bacon, and cold milk, then
hopped back on the bike and motored on up the hill.

The stroked engine sounded even better out here in the open
than it had back in the garage in town. I'd put eight months
and probably too much money into the restoration, but my
dick got hard every time I looked at her, so I figured it
was worth it. The paint job I'd thought up one night after a
few beers and a mediocre blow job from a nameless trick
looked as good on the bike as it had in my head. At first
glance, the bike just looked dark purple, but if you took a
minute and let your eyes roam over the tank, you realized
there were images in the paint, suggestions of a muscled
arm, the taut tendon of a strong neck, the edge of a
stubbled jaw.

It was a man, looking back over his shoulder. It was the
face of a man I'd met twice, a face that I saw in my dreams
on those nights it took me forever to fall asleep. In the
dreams, he'd appear suddenly, as he did the second time in
the garage. I'd been dreaming about him for five months now,
but it was still a surprise when he came around the corner,
or stepped into the room, or whatever the dream scenario was
this time. There was some sort of connection between us,
cause I always knew he was there just before I glanced up at
him, although the dreams were silent.

I looked forward to the dreams so that I could see him
again, but they were frustrating because I couldn't touch
him in them, and I loved touching him the one time we were
together. His skin was warm and smooth where it lay over the
tight ripples of his stomach; his cock was silk over warm
steel, and the feel of it pulsing in my hand was a memory I
tormented myself with on the nights I couldn't sleep at all.
When I closed my eyes, I could feel his mouth on mine, the
softness of his lips backed by the hard press of his teeth,
and the tongue that made something deep in my gut come alive
for the first time.

I woke up from those dreams with my cock so hard it hurt, my
stomach in knots, covered in the precum that his memory
always caused to ooze from my slit. It slicked my hand when
I stroked myself, eyes closed to hold on to the feel of the
dream as long as possible. It didn't take me long to climax,
but I always tried to stretch it out because I was never
sure when I'd dream about him again. I was so fuckin' scared
that each one would be the last, and then he'd be lost to me
forever.

I dreamed of him last night, and the emptiness I felt this
morning chased me from the house. His memory was so closely
tied to the Pan that riding it was bittersweet, but today it
felt good - I was smiling as I blasted down a short
straight, braking into the next switchback. I was pretty far
up the mountain now and hadn't seen a car in miles. The
trees flashed by in a blur of greens and browns, and I
slowed a little to take in the beauty of the mountain in
spring. A park service sign caught my eye - Parker Falls,
two miles. Why not, I thought. I had no where to go and all
day to get there, so I made the turnoff and rode slowly down
the narrow dirt road until I reached a small parking area.

There was another bike parked already, a new Fat Boy with
bags, and I almost turned around and left. I wanted solitude
today, not some loudmouth biker wrecking my mood, but I
stopped anyway and sat there for a moment after I turned off
the engine, listening to the sudden silence. There were
several trail signs, all leading eventually to the falls, so
I took the one that looked least traveled. The woods were
quiet and still, just the occasional squirrel chattering at
me from a treetop, pissed that someone had the balls to hike
around in his forest. I was wandering along, looking off
into the trees, when I realized I could hear the falls. I
glanced up and stopped dead in my tracks.

A shirtless man leaned against the fence at the edge of a
drop off, and as he looked back over his shoulder at me, I
felt a cold chill; it was the painting on my tank, the face
from my dreams, the man I had begun to think I'd only
imagined. He wore his black jeans low on his hips with the
Docs I remembered from before. His hair was a little
shorter, his eyes pale; his bare back was a smooth expanse
of pale skin over well-defined muscle. His face was still as
he watched me, and I swear to Christ I wasn't sure if he was
real or not.

I stared at him for a full minute before I dared walk closer
to him. He watched me approach, his eyes roaming over my
face, and a slow smile began to widen his mouth. I stopped a
few feet from him, looking into his eyes, seeing again the
things about him that had attracted me from the first those
amazing grey eyes, the squarish jaw, the full mouth. He
hadn't taken his shirt off the one time we were together,
and now I could see the firm curves across his shoulders,
the harder angles of his chest defined by a light dusting of
black hair fanning out to small, dark nipples. A fine trail
of dark curls fell past his navel, dropping down into his
jeans to spread into the trimmed bush of his crotch, which I
remembered in cock-hardening detail.

My heart rate had increased the instant I saw him, and now
my blood was hammering at every pulse point in my body. I
reached out a not quite steady hand and ran my fingertips
down the firm curve of his upper arm. He was warm and solid
- a real man, not a mirage conjured up by my desperate
imagination. His smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the
corners, and I smiled in return, stunned at having found him
here, in this unlikely place.

I opened my mouth to speak, but had to swallow and lick my
lips before I could get a word out. "Evan. What.. why didn't
you ever come back?"

"Because I needed you to find me," he replied cryptically in
the deep voice I remembered so well, raising a hand to grasp
my wrist firmly. "And you did. You did. It's really good to
see you again, Jeff."

His words broke something free in me and I stepped forward,
grabbing his shoulders, pulling him to me and kissing him
hard, three months of need making me rougher than I meant to
be, but he met me with the same bruising passion, fisting
one hand in my shirt and gripping the back of my neck with
the other. We fought through the kiss, hungry for each other
in a way I'd never been for someone. When we broke apart,
breathing hard, I pressed my forehead to his, eyes closed,
jaw tight, fighting for control. Month after month of
longing, the surprise of finding him here, the potency of
our kiss - all had me at the ragged edge, and I could feel
my knees shaking as I clung to him.

I pulled back a little, looking at him for a moment before
kissing him again, more gently this time, drawing it out,
tasting him, moaning into his mouth when his tongue slid
across mine. He ran his hands down my back and under my
shirt, pulling it up and over my head as we broke apart for
a second. His spread hands kneaded the muscles of my chest,
pausing to stub a thumb across my nipple, tightening it and
shooting little thrills to my nuts.

The feel of his long back under my hands was familiar,
although it had been months since I'd touched him, and then
only briefly; but still, I knew how the furrow of his spine
would feel as my fingers slid down it, down into the waist
of his jeans and onto the upper slope of his round ass. If I
had any doubts that the man in my arms was flesh and blood,
my cock sure as hell didn't, surging wildly up my belly to
press uncomfortably against my jeans.

We kissed for several minutes, grinding against each other,
our hands becoming more insistent as we explored each
other's bodies. I thumbed open the top two buttons of his
fly, then slid a hand down the front of his jeans, bumping
immediately into the slippery head of his cock. He sucked in
a breath and quickly opened his pants, shoving my hand
between his legs to cup his balls. He closed his fingers
over mine, squeezing hard, shuddering a little.

He exhaled and let go of my hand, wrapping his around the
back of my head and pulling me to him. His skin was faintly
salty when I ran my tongue up the center of his chest to the
hollow of his throat, kissing the soft skin there. When I
circled his belly button and nipped his taut stomach, he
groaned and closed his fingers in my hair. I chewed on his
nipple for a moment, and then tugged his jeans to mid-thigh,
running my hands up his legs to grab his ass, feeling his
muscles tense as he swayed slightly.

As I ran my tongue up the underside of his cock, a fat,
clear drop of precum oozed from his slit. After watching it
for a second, I scooped it up with the tip of my tongue and
moved slowly back until it shimmered between us; then I sank
my mouth down on him. He gave a long, open-mouthed groan and
dropped his head back onto his shoulders, leaving one hand
behind my head and lowering the other to his balls, rolling
them in his fingers as I sucked him, holding them in his
palm for me to lick.

As I blew him, my hands roamed his backside. I ran my
fingers down the valley of his ass, trailing them over his
hole, as warm and soft as I remembered it. As I drew my
fingers back up, he pushed his hips back slightly, and that
unspoken invitation was all I needed. I tugged his jeans to
his ankles just before he dropped to his knees to kiss me,
then lay back in the grass and pulled his legs up to his
chest. I looked at him for a moment, still astounded that we
were together again.

His cock bobbed down to his belly with every beat of his
heart, tugging at his balls each time, and a shiny thread of
precum connected the matted hair of his stomach with the tip
of his dick. I scooped my finger through it and touched it
to his hole, using the slickness to ease into him. I moved
my finger around to loosen him up a little, but he lifted
his head and panted, "Fuck that, do it!" so I pulled my
finger free and grabbed my dick. He bared his clenched
teeth, growling softly as I pressed into him, bottoming out
in one long stroke.

He let out a big sigh and relaxed around me, reaching for my
wrists as I slid my hands up the backs of his thighs to push
his legs further forward. I knew I wasn't gonna last long,
so I angled for his prostate right from the get-go and
smiled slightly when his moans rose in pitch. Sweat was
dripping off my chin by the time his head arched back, and
he came in three shuddering bursts that slathered the tight
ripples of his belly with cum.

His ass muscles tightened on my cock as he came, pulsing
around me, and I had to blow. I pulled out and hung over him
on one arm as my cock fired load after load onto the damp,
curly hair of his crotch. When I finally opened my eyes, he
was watching me with a smoldering look on his face. I braced
my other arm as he curled a hand around the back of my neck
and pulled himself up to kiss me, his booted feet tangled up
in his jeans between us.

By now it was late morning, pretty warm, and we were covered
in cum, sweat, and dead grass. I pulled him to his feet and
we hauled our jeans back up, then followed the noise of the
water until we came out at the edge of the river just above
the falls. Several big boulders made a quiet pool, so we
stripped and waded in, grimacing a little at the chill of
the water. We rinsed off quickly, then climbed onto a flat
boulder and lay on our backs, letting the sun dry us. He
reached out to hold my wrist loosely in his hand as he
spoke. "What now?"

I rolled my head to him. "Come back to my place. I live just
a couple blocks from the garage, so we can leave the bikes
there. I'm not letting you get away so easy this time." He
smiled, his eyes closed to the sun and gave my wrist a
squeeze. "Besides, I haven't had a chance to feel that," I
gave his soft dick a tug, "up my ass yet."

When his smile faded slightly, I asked, "You do fuck, don't
you?  I mean, if you don't, man, that's cool. You give great
head, and I could fuck you all afternoon." I stroked him
until he began to fill a little. "But I'd sure like to."

He sat up and gave me a tight smile. "Yeah, I fuck." He
looked off into the woods. "You hungry?"

I let it go for now. "Sure, let's go."

We waded back to shore and dried off with our shirts, then
walked back down the narrow trail with him in front. His
limp was more pronounced now, and as I watched him walk
along, I wondered what had happened to him. The sight of his
round ass in those tight black jeans gave me another hard-on
which I rubbed as I thought about getting him home and into
my bed, or at least as far as the living room floor.

Fifteen minutes later we were back at the bikes, shattering
the silence of the woods with the blat-blat of the Pan and
the throaty growl of the Fat Boy. On the ride back to town,
I let him stay a little ahead of me, enjoying the sight of
his shoulders and back muscles working as he negotiated the
curvy road. His long legs were stretched out to the highway
pegs, and the image of them pulled back to his chest as I
stroked into him rolled around in my head as we rode.

I smiled to myself. I hadn't had a day this good in years,
and it was barely noon.



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So begins '52 Panhead. What do you think? qwb224@gmail.com