Date: Sat, 25 Aug 2007 16:37:50 -0700
From: qwb <qwb224@gmail.com>
Subject: '52 Panhead 2

     We parked the bikes in my bay at the garage, had a
quick beer with the boys, and hoofed it to an Italian joint
down the block. Conversation lagged as we waited for our
drinks, reminding me that I knew nothing about this guy
except his first name and that he was a hot fuck. Things
didn't improve much as we ate, and I began to wonder if
that's all this was - a one-night-stand in daytime guise.
Normally that would be okay with me - hook up with a hot guy
for a few days, maybe even a weekend or two, then move along
before things got complicated, but this was different. Evan
was different, and this time I wanted more.
     We made it through lasagna and a couple more beers, and
then we walked slowly - and mostly silently - to my place,
an older house in an improving neighborhood a few blocks off
the main drag. Evan stopped on the porch, turning to look
back down the front walk and out across the quiet
neighborhood. When he turned back to me, I let us in the
door and showed him around the house. As we took a quick
look into my bedroom, my hard-on returned with a vengeance
as I started thinking about how this evening was probably
(hopefully) going to end. If nothing else, I knew he was
good for that.
     When we stuck our heads in the third bedroom that
doubled as my office, he glanced around in silence for a
moment, taking in the computers, the laptops, the
disassembled CPUs, the stacks of hard drives and CDs. "What
do you do?"
     "Build computers. Write code. Trouble-shoot for
companies with more money than brains. Hack a little.
Nothing like that," I added when he raised an eyebrow at me.
"Games, mostly, trying to see if I can figure out the
cheats, that kinda shit."
      "A computer geek, huh?" He looked me up and down.
"Where's the glasses and pocket protector?"
     It was late afternoon, but still warm enough, so we
went through the house to the deck out back. "Chewy," I said
by way of introduction to the scruffy brown dog that came
bounding up to greet us. I was determined to find out if
there was more to Evan than a great ass, so I bared my teeth
in my most winning smile and opened with, "So, you live
around here?"
     "No, down in Patterson," he said, naming a town a
couple hours south as he tugged gently on the dog's ears.
Chewy's an attention slut; he'd sit still for days as long
as you kept petting him.
     "What were you doing up here when you came into the
garage that first time?"
     "Business. I'm an attorney." He cut me a quick look.
"No lawyer jokes, please; I've heard 'em all twice."
     "Wouldn't think of it." I held up a hand in peace,
chuckling. "And the second time? More of the same?" I wasn't
going to let this go.
     He was quiet for a minute, then turned to meet my gaze.
"No... no, the second time I came to see you."
    I stared at him as the implications of that statement
sunk in. "You drove two hours, spent an hour with me, and
then drove back home?"
     "Yup." He was looking away again, and I could see only
his profile. A small smile curled the corner of his mouth as
he added, "And it was worth every fucking mile."
     That shut me up.
     Something was happening here, something more than a
quick fuck in the woods - however exceptional that fuck had
been. His comment about needing me to find him, the
evasiveness when I asked him if he topped, and now his
admission that he'd driven four hours to spend a hot hour
with me in the garage all had me real curious about this
guy. I had fantasized about finding him for months, yearned
for him through more sleepless nights than I cared to
remember, and now that he was here right in my own Goddamn
house, I wasn't quite sure what to do with him.
    So we spent another hour out back, shootin' the shit
about motorcycles. He'd ridden dirt bikes as a kid, tearing
around the scrubby pasture outside Patterson where his uncle
ran a few cows. College brought an end to those days, but
when he'd graduated, a bike had been the first thing he'd
bought, and he'd had one or another since. Just a few days
after our garage hook-up, he'd gotten the Fat Boy that was
parked at the garage.
     When it got dark, I took his hand and led him down the
hall to the dim bedroom, pushing him down onto the quilt
fully clothed. I threw a leg across his, put a hand on his
chest and propped myself on one elbow, looking down at him.
Then I asked him the question he had put to me earlier.
Although I spoke softly, my voice sounded loud in the still
room, and not as casual as I wanted it to.
     "What now?"
     He lay his hand over mine, running a fingertip up and
down between my fingers, pinching the loose skin of my
knuckles gently. Then he curled his fingers over mine and
squeezed, not meeting my eyes.
     "Can I stay? For the weekend?"
     The weekend?!?
     When I didn't reply, he glanced up at me. "I still need
to fuck you, remember?"
    Well, my dick certainly remembered, dancing around in
my jeans at his words. If he was gonna be here another
couple days, I had plenty of time to pry his story out of
him. I leaned down and kissed him. "Fuck, yeah, you can
stay, dude. That'd be great."
    We got up, pissed, brushed our teeth, and met back up
at the bed. He walked slowly around to the far side and
began to unbutton his shirt. As we undressed separately and
silently - that was getting to be a disturbing trend - I
wondered how this was going to go. It didn't take Einstein
to figure out there was something about topping that he had
problems with. I didn't think it was performance related,
since he'd had no trouble getting it up and keeping it up,
even when I was balls-deep inside him. Maybe it was just the
idea of sticking his dick up some guy's ass. A lot of boys
who loved to get fucked wouldn't dream of trying it from the
other side.
    I studied him as he tossed his clothes onto a chair.
Physically, he was just what I liked - dark haired; tall;
lean, hard muscles; broad shoulders to hang onto when I
fucked him; nice round ass that my fingers sank into when I
gripped it. His face was a little too normal looking to be
beautiful, but his eyes and mouth were compelling. He held
your attention, and made you want to find out what a smile
looked like on those lips. In a word, he was seriously hot.
     Okay, okay - two words. Jesus.
    When he turned to me, I felt my cock begin to rise in
response to his intent gaze.  He watched it swell and lift
until I was hard, and then cupped his balls in one hand,
squeezing them and tugging on his sac. As he lifted his eyes
to mine, his cock followed along to stand erect, swaying
slightly with his pulse. I walked slowly to him, my heavy
dick leading the way, weaving in front of me like some kind
of thermal divining rod, seeking his heat.
     I kissed him lingeringly, sucking his tongue, then sank
to my knees and pressed my face to his belly. His stiff
prick bumped against my neck as I gripped his ass and took a
deep breath of him. Despite our dip in the creek, he smelled
of sex from the woods with a faint touch of soap from his
morning shower. I dropped my nose down to his balls where
the scent of our earlier fuck hardened me completely, and my
dick kept time with each beat of my thudding heart. I
groaned into him, mouthing the underside of his dick,
licking my way to the top as he held my head with both
hands, his fingers spread behind my ears, moving softly in
my hair.
     I sucked him for a while, enjoying the involuntary
clutch of his hands on my head when I flicked the tip of my
tongue into his slit, then almost reluctantly got up and led
him to the bed. I flopped down on my back so that he could
come to me and handle this however he wanted. He crawled
partway up, stopping with his legs straddling one of mine
and his arms braced stiff, lightly trailing the tip of his
dick up my leg, leaving a shiny precum trail behind. As he
tipped his hips to drag it back down, he watched me, smiling
just a little. He did that a few times and my cock bounced
wildly up and down on my belly as his dick tickled its way
up my thigh, ruffling the hair on my leg. Nobody had ever
done that to me before and it felt fantastic. I've always
gotten off on having my legs stroked, and for this
particular man to do it with his oozing cock was one of the
hottest things I've ever experienced.
    He dropped down and began to thrust along the bunched
muscles of my thigh, grunting softly at the top of each
stroke. When he bent to lick my nipple, I groaned and
scrubbed my cock up the tight ripples of his stomach, eager
to get things going. He left my chest, pushing my knees up
and apart, nibbling his way down the inside of my leg until
my balls were in his mouth. Rolling them with his tongue, he
hummed softly, vibrating them in the liquid heat of his
mouth, and I felt my eyes roll back in my head.
     He put his hands under my ass and lifted me to his
mouth, dragging his warm tongue repeatedly from my hole up
to my nuts, using his thumbs to spread me open. The feeling
that washed over me when he slid his tongue into my ass was
almost enough to make me shoot. His tongue was firm but
resilient, pushing its way in past the bazillion nerve
endings there. He withdrew it, flicked it up and down
several times, then made slow circles, sucking lightly. It's
at times like this that I think about that first crazy homo
caveman who thought, Let me lick this dude's hairy ass and
see what happens.
     Anyway, my point is that whatever Evan's problems with
fucking, he sure as hell had a handle on the preliminaries.
Boy, did he ever.
     Finally, I couldn't take any more and pushed him back a
little, sitting up with a bottle of lube in my hand. I
poured some into my palm, taking my time slathering his
steely rod with it, pulling up snugly on the head of his
dick in quick little jerks, smiling at his tight-faced
winces. I shoved a fingerful of lube into my ass, tossed the
bottle aside, and looked at him. He met my gaze, his eyes a
darker grey than I'd seen them so far.
    I put a fingertip to his cheek and he turned his head
slightly to bite the pad of flesh at the base of my thumb.
"You okay with this?" I asked him. He nodded slowly,
watching me solemnly, and I looked back at him, wondering
about the things he hadn't told me yet, and a little amused
to realize that I was nervous. In less than a day together,
Evan mattered to me more than I was ready to admit.
     He leaned forward and kissed me wetly, licked my mouth,
then pushed me down onto the bed, lifted my legs, and
scooted up to my ass, angling his cock to press snugly
against my pucker. He stayed like that for a long moment,
looking down at the meeting of our bodies, and I thought
maybe it wasn't going to happen, but then he closed his
eyes, wrapped his free hand around my leg and pushed firmly
into me with a soft grunt.
      The feel of him wiped everything else from my mind. He
was incredibly hard, and his cock got a little thicker
toward the base, so the sensation of it sliding home just
got more and more intense. He didn't stop until his balls
were squashed between us, and when I looked at him, he was
motionless, barely breathing, with his eyes still closed.
His jaw muscles were knotted tight and the death grip he had
on my leg was starting to hurt, so I tapped his hand and he
loosened up some, but still didn't look at me.
    I watched him for a few more seconds as I adjusted to
his girth, but finally I couldn't stand it. "Hey, man," I
said softly. "Evan."
     His eyes opened slowly, and I was surprised to see them
awash in tears, his black lashes wet and spiky, his irises
the turbulent gray of a stormy day. He took a few deep
breaths and blinked a couple times, then gave me a lopsided
smile.
     "Sorry. It's been a long time..."
    He didn't volunteer any more, and I let it go because
he started moving in slow, gliding strokes that put
delicious friction on every nerve ending in my happy, happy
ass. He kept it up for a long time, not going anywhere with
it, just swinging his hips in a steady cadence that sent me
off into some other place. He stroked out until the head of
his cock tugged at the muscles of my hole and I tightened on
him each time, enjoying watching his jaw muscles clench
rhythmically.
     I began to breathe with the strokes, and I got the
weird feeling that we were two parts of the same organism,
moving and breathing together, in tune in a way two separate
people couldn't be. When he eventually quickened his
strokes, I was right there with him, my breath coming short
and hard, and after he angled himself to catch my sweet
spot, it was all over in about ninety seconds.
     When I came, I cried out loudly, something I hadn't
done in years, and convulsed under him, coming up off the
bed with each pulse of my cock, dragging the sheets loose in
my fist. I didn't even feel him pull out - I just felt his
hot spurts skidding up my chest further than my own had.  He
was braced over me on one quivering arm, gasping for air,
drops of sweat flying from his face as he jerked shot after
shot from his swollen cock.
     When he was mostly done, I pulled him down to me,
wrapping my arms around his back, and buried my face in his
neck. He relaxed onto me, but it was only a moment before I
felt him start to shake, and then his ribs heaved under my
hands. I held onto him until the worst of it was past, then
pushed him partially off me, and shoved a handful of tissues
at him.
     After he blew his nose, he fell back on the bed next to
me, but only a moment or two later, he rolled to his feet
and started yanking on his clothes, his movements quick and
jerky.
    I pushed up onto my elbows. "Evan, what the hell are
you doin'?"
     "Gettin' the fuck outta here."
     "Ah, come on, man, don't go. Evan!"
    But my words fell on deaf ears because he had turned
the corner into the hall and disappeared. I stared at the
empty doorway for a second, and then fell back, stunned at
the sudden end to what had been such a promising day. This
is why you pick up tricks in bars, I reminded myself,
because then you don't give a flying fuck when they get up
and leave. I stared at the ceiling, going over what had just
happened, remembering the feel of being speared on Evan's
cock, but then it hit me that I hadn't heard the front door
open and close. In the next nanosecond, I realized he
probably didn't know exactly where the garage was from here,
since we'd detoured to the Italian joint in between. Add to
that, that he didn't have keys to the building, and I was
out of bed in a flash.
     I peered around the corner into the living room and
there he was, sitting on the edge of the sofa - elbows on
spread knees, hands dangling, shoulders hunched, head
hanging low - the pictorial definition of dejection. Chewy
was lying there with his chin resting on Evan's bare toes, a
mournful expression on his face; he whined softly when he
saw me.
     I watched Evan for a moment, getting my words together,
then walked over to him. He didn't acknowledge my presence,
and when I lay a hand between his shoulder blades, he
shrugged it off with an abrupt motion. I sat down a foot or
so from him, thinking to give him some space. I was starting
to think maybe this guy had too much baggage to bother with,
but then I remembered the gut-wrenching relief I'd felt when
I saw him in the woods this morning. I wasn't ready to
abandon this just yet, so we sat there silently for a few
minutes before he spoke in a voice choked with emotion.
     "I don't think I can do this. I'm just too fuckin'
scared."
    I digested that for a moment before asking, "What was
his name?"
     Evan turned slowly until ours eyes met and I could see
him make the decision to tell me. "Lucas. Luke." Saying the
name aloud seemed to steady him and he continued.  "We met
in high school when his dad got transferred. He's the only
guy I ever..." His voice trailed off and he gave a mighty
sniff, prompting me to hand him some more tissues.
     "He dumped you?"
    He barked out a harsh, humorless laugh. "No... fuck,
that woulda been great." Great? He sighed, and said more
softly, "No, he was killed."
     Ahhh, shit. You sure can pick `em, Jeff - following up
a dead guy is next to impossible.
     "What happened?" I asked quietly.
    "Car wreck on graduation night. Some drunken asshole
hit us." He paused. "Luke was killed, the rest of us were
pretty fucked up. One guy's in a chair for the rest of his
life; another was burned pretty bad."
     What the hell do you say to something like that? I gave
his statement the moment of silence it deserved, and then
said, "Jesus. I'm really sorry, Evan, but running off in the
middle of the night isn't gonna change anything. Come on
back to bed, and if you still wanna split in the morning,
fine by me."
     He was silent, so at least he was thinking about it. I
tried the hand again; this time he left it there, so after a
second I slid it up to his neck and gave a little tug. He
came slowly to his feet, pushing up from his knees with a
heavy sigh. He hadn't gotten as far as his socks and boots,
so we padded silently down the hall in our bare feet - me
buck naked, swingin' in the breeze; him in his t-shirt and
jeans. When we got to the bedroom, I turned him to me and
pulled his shirt over his head as he unbuttoned his pants. A
long day and lots of sweaty sex had me wanting a shower, so
I turned around and took him into the bathroom with me.
     When I bought the place, I'd knocked out a useless
closet to install a four foot square shower stall and it was
one of the best improvements I'd made. There was enough room
for two guys to move around comfortably, but it was small
enough that you couldn't help but come into contact with
each other now and then. I turned his back to me and
scrubbed him good, working the muscles of his shoulders hard
enough to get a groan of pleasure out of him.
    As I ran my hands down his legs, for the first time I
noticed the jagged scar that rippled down the outside of his
left thigh. Fully a foot long, it was wider and slightly
puckered in the middle, then thinned down towards the ends.
As I traced a finger around the center, Evan glanced down.
"That's where the bone stuck out; it was shattered all to
hell. There's a titanium rod in there now. Aches like a
bitch when I'm tired or cold."
     I looked at it for another moment and then
straightened. I put my arms around him and washed his front,
not loitering too long in his crotch, but giving his chest a
lot of attention, brushing his nipples lightly with each
pass of my hands. Before long, he was slumped against me
with his head tipped back on my shoulder, his hands lightly
gripping my thighs. Just before the hot ran out, I pushed
him under the water, soaped myself quickly, and leaped out
as the water turned icy.
    We dried off, and then wandered back to bed, climbing
in from our own sides like we'd been doing it for years. We
lay down next to each other, on our backs, not touching
anywhere, but after a few moments, he rolled to me, pressing
his face to my upper arm and spreading a hand on my chest.
As he curled up, his knees bumped into my thigh, and he
sighed deeply, making a warm, humid spot on my arm. I
stacked my hand on top of his on my chest, and slid my other
between his legs just above his knees to hold his thigh
loosely.
    I was sleepy, but I just didn't want to let this day
go. Almost no matter what happened tomorrow, it could hardly
beat finding him like I did today, looking just like the
painting on the Pan's gas tank. And the real man was so much
more - warm and gentle, a little mysterious, haunted by the
past. But now I had to worry about whether he'd still want
to leave in the morning. Coming back to bed with me had been
a good sign, but.
     I heaved a big sigh of my own, and without thinking
much about it, brought his hand up to my mouth and kissed
his knuckles. As I was drifting off, I thought I felt him
press a kiss to my arm.

                           *  *  *


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