Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2012 19:35:48 -0700
From: Paul Crumrine <purple-prose@hotmail.com>
Subject: Blazing Bicycle Seats from David Holly

(Note: "Blazing Bicycle Seats" is one of the stories in my e-book titled
The Dream in the Heart of the Forest. Check my website http://gaywriter.org
for more information.)


Blazing Bicycle Seats
By David Holly


   I left my apartment at 6:00 A.M. and pedaled my ass through the pre-dawn
streets. The morning air cooled my face and freshly shaven legs as I thrust
my Bianchi bicycle ahead of the morning traffic toward the Springwater
Corridor trail. By the time I reached the precipitous access path, I was
sweating in the sunrise air. I slid around the barrier that prevented
motorized vehicles from entering the trail, let go of my brakes, and flew
down the steep path.

   My ass was up and the wind was whistling through the slits in my helmet
when I saw a bicyclist coasting obliviously toward the intersection.
Instinctively, I thrust my butt back to balance my weight and squeezed my
brakes. My tires squeaked horribly. Though the approaching cyclist skidded
sideways, my rear wheel rose and I sailed over my handlebars and landed in
a thicket of blackberries. The crash knocked the breath out of me; as I
drew a laboring gasp, I did not for a moment know where I was or what had
happened. Gradually I became aware of a voice hailing from beyond.

   "Holy shit. You took one hell of a spill," he exclaimed. When I failed
to respond, he called, "Hey, are you hurt? Can you talk?"

   After a minute's reflection I concluded that I was not receiving a
greeting from an angel. The words "holy shit" rendered a heavenly encounter
unlikely. "I'm okay," I assured him, but when I tried to move I discovered
that the vines were holding me. I heard the sound of ripping Lycra and felt
a painful stinging sensation, accompanied by a breeze.

   "Wait," the voice called. "Stop moving. You're ripping your shorts.
You've got blackberry vines wrapped around your waist, and they're clinging
to your ass."

   Still, I attempted to free myself, but I was entangled and every tug
resulted in further tearing and more pain. Whenever I got a grip on one
long green vine, another stalk attacked me with its thorns.

   "Hold still, man. You're tearing yourself up. Just wait. I'm coming in
to help you."

   Like a conquering hero, the stranger braved the blackberry bushes and
pulled long, thorny trailers aside while I struggled clear. Clutching my
arm with one strong hand and supporting my ass with the other, he helped me
rise. If it hadn't been for the thorns, I would have warmed to the touch of
his hand.

   "Ouch!" I yelped as he grabbed a particularly sensitive spot on my right
buttock. In spite of my embarrassed howls, he assisted me back to the
asphalt path and examined my wounds.

   "Oh shit, your skin is all scratched, and your ass is hanging out of
your bicycle shorts. You'd better strip so I can pull out the thorns."

   The morning mist was lifting, and I could see six bicyclists
approaching, not to mention mothers pushing strollers, two riders on
horseback, a group of dog walkers, and several hikers with backpacks. While
my body is nothing to be ashamed of, I didn't want a gaggle of prudes
honking that I was corrupting their offspring.

   The helpful bicyclist saw my hesitation. "How about under the bridge?"
He pointed toward the bridge over the creek that stood only a hundred feet
away. "Nobody could possibly see us there."

   My new friend helped by wheeling both bicycles, while I limped along,
wincing from the thorns. As we veered off the path and along the wooden
ramp, I told him my name that my name was Mark and he gave me his.

   "I'm Brad."

   "Brad, I'm sure sorry. I came off the bluff like I owned the fuckin'
trail; I never dreamed anybody else would be coming along so early." As I
glanced again at the assorted groups enjoying the Springwater Corridor, my
face burned. "I was really stupid."

   Brad grinned. His grin was the kind that lit up the world. "I've blasted
down that same path a few times, man. It's a rush. I'm just lucky I haven't
taken a digger myself."

   I smiled ruefully. In spite of the thorns in my ass, I was feeling a
familiar fomenting of the glands. "I wasn't so lucky this time."

   "I don't know about that," Brad demurred, a suggestive smile playing
around his mouth. I knew right then that he was interested in
me. Automatically, my eyes wandered down his body.

   Brad was built like a professional bicyclist: broad shoulders, flat
stomach, powerful legs, and a sturdy round butt meant for hard pedaling.
Like mine, his legs were tanned and shaved. When he took off his bicycle
helmet, I saw that he had thick, carrot-colored hair, trimmed short. He was
wearing a red, white, and blue jersey with blue bike shorts. The bulge of
his buttocks rounded his shorts in back. His thick cock and balls formed a
fascinating bulge in the front.

   Under the sheltering curve of the bridge, Brad propped our bicycles
against the railing. The waters of Johnson Creek, a turbulent stream,
burbled as they ran toward the river.

   "Okay, Mark, pull off your shorts. Let's check out the damage."

   I took off my helmet and set it on the boards. Then I peeled off my
jersey. Brad grinned and hummed stripper music. I felt my cock stiffening.

   "You sound like you're in a hurry to get me naked," I teased.

   Brad smiled mysteriously. Then he kneeled and unfastened my shoes. He
took them off and set them aside. I moved to roll down my black cycling
shorts but Brad caught my hands.

   "Let me do it." His fingers slid into the waistband, and a thrill shot
through me. As he slowly pulled down my shorts, he tried to avoid
scratching me further with the attached thorns. Clearing the restraining
fabric and pad, my cock popped free, stood proudly, and bobbed only a few
inches from Brad's mouth.

   Brad's smile reminded me of that of Leonardo's Mona Lisa, which had long
conveyed a coded message to cocksuckers. After Brad pulled my shorts over
my feet, he examined the rips. "These shorts are shot to hell," he
pronounced, poking his finger through a long tear. When he raised his head
toward me, his lips were only an inch from my cock. Without warning he
kissed it.

   "Oh, yes," I moaned. His kiss made me forget that I was seven miles from
home with nothing but atmosphere between my skin and the sky.

   "That kiss was just a promise," he said. "I'm still checking for
thorns."

   He turned me around and plucked blackberry brambles out of my butt
cheeks.

   "You have a few nasty scratches. Nothing that won't heal." He ran his
hands over my hot ass mounds. "You have beautiful buns, Mark. It's a shame
that you grazed them."

   "I'd endure ten million scratches to feel your hands on my ass."

   Brad's lips touched my ass affectionately before he turned to examine
the scores on my arms and chest. "These are deep," he said. He ripped open
a tube of antibiotic ointment and treated my wounds. "Does that feel
better?"

   "Yeah."

   While he looked me over, his hand glided sensuously down to my stiff
cock. He slowly closed his hand around the shaft; then he ran his thumb
over the head.

   "Oh," I murmured as a needy agony filled me and a thin stream of pre-cum
leaked out.

   "Yum," he whispered pinching my dick head between his thumb and
forefinger. "How do you feel?"

   What a question! I felt like my dick was going to explode.

   "I'm feeling lots better now," I said. As his fingers toyed with the
head of my cock, a long moan escaped from my mouth. "Wow. Oh, yeah,
man. I'm feeling really good."

   Brad continued gripping my dick shaft with his left fist. With his right
he twisted my dick head as if he were unscrewing the lid of a bottle. I
thought that I'd explode right then. Nearly unbearable tingles coursed
through my midsection.

   "I can make you forget about your blackberry scratches. I'll suck out
the pain. Would you like that, Mark?"

   "Oh, yes. Please." My cock was tingling with anticipation. The
anticipation of gliding it over his lips and into his mouth drove out the
pain from the scratches and punctures.

   Looking down, I watched his lips approach my swollen cock. Then his pink
tongue emerged and he ran it around the head. I felt another stream of
pre-cum jet from my dick as he tormented the rim with his expert tongue.

   "Suck me, Brad," I moaned. "Suck my dick. Suck me off."

   Brad gripped my muscular thighs with both hands. They felt cool on my
burning flesh, but my heat soon warmed them. Then Brad slid his hands over
my ass, forgetting my scratches in his passion. I didn't care, because I
had forgotten the scratches too.

   Brad turned his face up and winked at me. "I want you to hold my head
when you get excited. I like guys to feed me."

   My ball sack was tight and my cock was throbbing. Brad was rubbing his
hands over my butt cheeks freely and tickling my crack with his index
finger. Then he slid his soft lips over my cock head and rotated his head
gently back and forth.

   "Oh, Brad," I groaned. "Oh, yeah. Suck me like that. Yeah."

   His muscular shoulders wobbled as his head bobbed to and fro. I slid my
hands over his shoulders and down his arms. I love to stroke a man's
bulging biceps, and Brad had plenty to stroke. His strong arms bulged as
his hands kneaded my ass and his fingers tantalized my horny crack.

   "Oh, suck me. Suck my cock."

   Brad's mouth never left my dick when he grabbed my left hand and pulled
it toward his ear. Understanding, I slid my hands behind his head and held
him as he wanted. His red hair was silky to the touch. I stroked his hair
as he took more and more of my cock shaft into his mouth.

   "Oh, Brad, you're going to make me do it. You're going to make me. Oh,
Brad, you're going to make me do it in your mouth."

   Brad sucked more vigorously as I talked. I couldn't stop running my
mouth even as his mouth worked ferociously at the head of my dick.

   "I've got a load, and I'm gonna blow it all," I moaned.

   Brad nodded as he worried my agonized dick head with his lips and
tongue. His finger tickled my willing asshole while he blew me.

   "I'm going to blow wads, Brad," I shouted. "Wads."

   My big balls were tight, and they tightened harder, and my dick seemed
to stiffen even more. It grew heavier and felt like it would burst in
Brad's mouth.

   "I'm going to come, Brad. Nothing can stop me. Oh, Brad, you're making
me do it. You're making me come in your mouth."

   Brad gripped my buns with iron hands as he directed my orgasm. Tingles
of rapture coursed through my burning cock head and up my shaft. I was
beyond stopping it, beyond stopping anything, as I wiggled my ass and
thrust it, fucking Brad's lips, tongue, and throat. Then the powerful
muscles at the base of my dick contracted and my first blast of jism
covered his tongue.

   "Oh, Brad, I'm shooting big wads into your mouth. Oh, my gods, I'm
fucking you in the mouth."

   My muscles contracted again and again shooting great gouts of hot
spunk. Meanwhile, Brad never gave my tortured cock a break, even as I
humped and fucked his mouth like one possessed. Even as I thrilled over the
threshold of agony, he popped his hard lips over my cock head and forced me
to drain my balls.

   "Oh, Brad, I'm coming so heavy. Oh, Brad, I've never had it like this."

   Indeed, I thought that I would pass out or die. Everything went dark
before my eyes as heavier ripples of sexual ecstasy transported me, as
though my very self would shoot out the hole in my dick as it spurted more
cum than I'd ever believed any human man could blow.

   Then exhausted, drained, spent, I collapsed against the lichen covered
concrete. Brad still held my butt with both hands. Slowly he moved his
mouth away from my cock. Then his hands slid off my butt, and I stared into
his face. I love the cute grin that comes over a guy's face after he's
given world-class head.

   My cock was slick, and a final drop of my semen oozed from the hole. I
touched my finger to it. It smelled stronger than ordinary, muskier. It was
more pungent than usual, and it had a distinctly tangy taste. I licked my
finger clean. Brad grinned as he watched me eat my cum drop.

   "Wow, man, I do that too. When did you start eating what you shoot?"

   "Since the first time I jerked off. I was rolling around on my bed and
playing with my dick. Next thing I knew, I felt this yummy sensation and
unloaded all over my tummy. Then I heard my mother coming up the stairs, so
I wiped my hand over my cum and licked it off. It's hard to believe that
that some guys have never tasted their own cum."

   "They're afraid, Mark," Brad confided. "They're afraid that they'll like
cum."

   "Of course they'd like it. The damn fools don't know what they're
missing."

   I rinsed in Johnson Creek. Green-headed mallards swam by while I was
cleaning my hands. They quacked at us, and I could hear the roar of the
small waterfall that lay a hundred yards around the bend.

   "God, what a beautiful morning," I exclaimed as I picked up my bicycle
shorts. When I pulled them over my ass, the rips grew.

   "Holy shit, Mark. You can't wear those," Brad said, laughing at my
protruding cock. "How do you feel about red?"

   "Huh?"

   "I was at the bike shop yesterday and bought some red cycling shorts. I
haven't even worn them yet."

   "You brought them with you?" It seemed strange. "I mean, who carries
extra bicycle shorts around?"

   He explained, "I biked to the shop, and the bag is still in my pannier."
He removed a bag emblazoned with the logo of a local bicycle shop, and
pulled out a pair of red cycling shorts. Hot shorts. Expensive shorts. I
could never have afforded those shorts. I wanted to wear them, but I also
felt guilty. However, Brad read my expression accurately.

   "Try them on," he insisted, pressing them upon me.

   I stepped into the shorts. They were thinner than my old black ones. The
pad was less bulky and when I adjusted my dick Brad gasped.

   "What?" I said.

   "Oh, Mark, you should see yourself," he sighed. "Those shorts sure do
fit your ass. You look good enough to fuck."

   Though it hardly seemed possible, I felt the renewed stirrings of
horniness. How many times had Brad referred to my ass? I'd lost count, but
the sum would have proved that he was an ass man. An ass man who gave a
wonderful blow job, but an ass man none the less. The thought of his
lusting after my butt filled me with dreamy sensations.

   Brad patted my butt and gave me a sweet kiss. "Consider the shorts my
gift," he insisted. I was about to protest, but he refused to hear
it. "Money isn't an issue, Mark."

   I wasn't sure what he meant, but I'd already thought of a way to repay
him. If he wanted my ass, he was going to get it. But first I was going to
tease him with it. I was going to work him up until he could hardly stand
it. When he finally did get his cock into my ass, he was going to think
he'd gone to heaven.

   "Come on, Brad," I urged. "It's time to sweat. Let's pedal out to the
boondocks." Cautiously, I planted my butt on my bicycle seat. Fortunately
the thorns had wreaked their damage more to the sides of my buttocks, so
bicycling was no discomfort. I jammed my foot down hard and shot away from
Brad. I had no doubt that he'd chase me, especially when I rose an inch
above the seat and showed him my curves. True to my predictions, he pumped
like a maniac until he caught up with my enticing butt.

   We passed the trailhead and pedaled hard past the lumber yards, scrap
yards, gravel quarries, power substations, and industrial parks. The
bicycle trail was bordered with a variety of native plants, but the most
prevalent were the blackberries. The bushes were blooming prolifically,
since we were riding in June and the delicious nemesis did not ripen until
August.

   Passing other bicyclists, strollers, joggers, and horseback riders, we
rode single file. Abruptly, Brad passed me and took the lead. Was he bored
with watching my ass? Or did he want me to admire his for a few miles?
Admire it I did, for his powerful buns worked enticingly as he stood to
pedal through intersections. Next to cross country skiing, bicycling is the
best exercise for working the buttocks; cyclists frequently end up with
firm, rounded rear ends, and I couldn't stop drooling over Brad's
super-duper caboose.

   After we passed the final junkyard and pedaled into the country, I
decided that it was time again to dangle my own rear end before Brad's
face. We had only a few miles to go until we reached the spot I'd
selected. Brad didn't know it yet, but I was planning to seduce him under a
canopy of trees. His dick would be travelling up my ass quite soon.

   "I'm taking the lead," I yelled as I sprinted past him. Standing on my
pedals, I thrust my ass back toward Brad's nose. Three white geese honked
from behind their fence, and a couple of speckled horses studied us
warily. Did their animal brains comprehend that the human in front wanted
to be caught by his pursuer? A young coyote poked his nose through the
scotch broom and watched as if he could read my intentions. I could feel
Brad's eyes on my butt; however, I pretended that I wasn't trying to seduce
him.

   "Isn't it beautiful?" I breathed admiring the twin green buttes rising
like Earth's buttocks before us and the taller hump of Mt. Scott painting
the sky to the South.

   "Yeah," Brad moaned. "It's beautiful."

   "It's so green and primitive."

   "What are you talking about?" Brad wondered.

   He had not even noticed the scenery. His mind was so focused upon my ass
that he would not have known whether he was bicycling through the mountains
or across the desert. Again, I floated my ass over my seat to give him a
better view and pumped my pedals like the devil.

   "Oh, yeah, baby, ride that thing," Brad called. I heard the pace of his
wheels quicken. "Yeah. Ride it. Oh," Brad moaned, losing all sense of
decorum as he chased me.

   "My ass is yours any time you want it," I offered when I knew that he
was directly behind my rear wheel.

   I waited only a stopped heartbeat to hear his reaction, but in my
impatience, his response seemed to take an eon to arrive.

   "I want it now, Mark. Right now."

   My asshole puckered, and a thrill of expectancy shot through my
belly. Hitting my brakes madly, I screeched my bike to a halt. Brad braked
beside me, and stood close. His sweaty thigh rested against mine, and his
hand found the rear of my shorts. As he stroked my buns through the Lycra,
I leaned my mouth toward his. Our lips met. Slowly I slid my hot tongue
into his eager mouth, and he met it with his own. My dick hardened in my
shorts; glancing down, I saw Brad's shorts protruding outrageously. I
wondered what massive organ he planned to drill up my ass and my heart
raced with excitement.

   We kissed again, our tongues burning passionately against each other,
our cocks straining the fabric of our shorts, and our blood singing to the
throbbing excitement of nature. Breaking apart was a torture that we had to
endure; we were too exposed. Then I pointed toward the green hill of old
growth forest that stood before us, the place I had selected. "Let's go
into the woods."

   Blazing with fervent lust, we pedaled painfully toward the path into the
butte. Two 600 foot hills stood side by side, the bicycle path dividing its
route between them. Again, I imagined them as two massive green buttocks
rising in the sunlight and casting their shadows into the cleft through
which we rode.

   We soon reached a dirt path lined with gooseberry and plum and pedaled
down the lane of buggery. Several hundred yards in, we reached the first
strand of ancient trees. Under the hush of gigantic trunks supporting high
canopies of boughs, we leaned our bicycles against the cyclopean trunks,
drank deeply from our water bottles, and locked our streaming bodies into a
tight embrace.

   Brad kissed me deeply, his tongue fucking my mouth. Kissing him back, I
slid my hand into his shorts and gripped his hard dick. The shaft felt
unbelievably thick in my fist. Sticky fluid leaked out of his dickhead and
washed over my hand. I used it to lubricate my palm, and gently stroked his
cock.

   Brad's hands were busy exploring my ass. He rubbed his hands over my
butt; then he slowly pushed my shorts toward my knees. He kneaded my hard
buns like a baker and let his magic fingers wander into my crack.

   I pulled my mouth away from his. "Oh, Brad, I want you inside me. I want
your big cock pounding my asshole. I want you to blast me in the ass,
Brad."

   As I stripped him naked, he finished undressing me. We tossed our
clothing onto the branch of a fallen tree, its immense waist-high trunk
sprouting living boughs from the ruined bark.

   "Do you have everything we need?" I asked hopefully.

   With a flourish, Brad produced extra-strength condoms and a tube of
water-based lubricant. I washed our hands from my water bottle. Then I
unrolled a condom onto Brad's fat cock. It hardened even more as I wrapped
it, and I watched the skin stretch tight. I squeezed a dollop of the
lubricant into my hand and royally gooped up Brad's dick. I fingered a
generous amount of the lube into my asshole.

   "How do you want it?" Brad asked, his voice husky with desire.

   I bent over the trunk and hugged the ancient moss covered bark while
poking my ass toward Brad. "Fuck me like this, Brad."

   "Oh, wow, you really do want it, Mark." His strong hands caressed my
buns and invaded my crack. His clever fingers traced a line from the small
of my back downwards.

   "Give it a wiggle if you want me to fuck it," Brad teased.

   I wiggled my ass for all it was worth. Brad grabbed my butt cheeks with
both hands and touched his dickhead to my asshole. I pushed my hole open,
and in he came; his thick cock kept sliding in and in as my asshole
stretched wider around it. It didn't hurt, but I felt fuller than I ever
had in my life.

   "It's almost all in, Mark," Brad gasped. "I can't believe that you're
taking it all."

   "I'm built for it, Brad. My body was designed to take big cocks. Drive
it in to the hilt."

   Drive he did. I thought that he had rent me when–with a mighty
plunge–he rammed my buns with his lap and his balls pressed against
mine.

   "Oh, yeah, that's great," I moaned. "Now, fuck me. That's it,
Brad. You've got your cock stuck all the way into me, so fuck my gay ass."

   With supreme gumption, Brad did so. He drew his cock back and reamed me
again. As he took up a pattern of steady drilling, stuffing and emptying me
with each lunge, I was flooded with sensations of pure pleasure. I wished
that all my friends were there to watch how I took Brad's cock.

   "Oh, you're really sticking it to me. That feels so good. Keep it up,
Brad. Fuck me. Fuck my gay ass."

   "I love the way you beg for it," Brad grunted, his breath hot in my ear.

   My own breath was rasping in my throat while I kept begging him to fuck
my ass harder and faster. Every stroke sent ripples of pleasure through my
body and into my brain. Brad's cock was inside me, filling me in ways that
transcended the mere physical.

   "Oh, yeah, pound me like that. Oh, you're fucking me like a bitch. Don't
stop. Don't ever stop. I love your big dick up my horny ass."

   "Yeah, take it, Mark. Oh, yeah, I love the way you talk while you're
taking it. I love fucking your hot butt."

   Our rhythm was perfect. I pushed with my asshole as he thrust into me,
and squeezed him hard when he pulled back. As I milked his cock with my
anal sphincter, I heard his breath grow harsher. I was getting him off, and
my cock was rock hard and dripping from the massage he was giving the
little buzzer up my ass.

   "Ah, Mark, I'm getting close. I'm going to shoot big loads up your gay
ass, gayboy. I'm going to blast a gallon of spunk."

   Loving the way he called me "gayboy," I gripped the tree trunk with
whitened fingers and made my ass answer his strokes. He started fucking me
faster, his big knobby cockhead milking my prostate, but I met his
pleasures with my own, gasping, groaning, and whining from the exquisite
torture of approaching orgasm. Brad was going to blast his load up my ass,
but I was going to shoot first.

   "Brad, you're making me come," I howled. "You're giving me an anal
orgasm. Oh!"

   I moaned, nearly sobbing with delight, as I fucked his huge cock with my
asshole, and my dick grew heavier as the tingles of pleasure radiated from
my asshole to the base of my cock. My dickhead tingled; then the first
waves of my orgasm hit me. My muscles contracted, not just the powerful
shooting muscles at the base of my cock, but my asshole as well, locking
tightly around Brad's fast stroking cock.

   My dick jerked as I shot a burst of juice onto the tree trunk. Squirt
followed squirt as I blasted loads of sticky jism onto the bark, my
throbbing asshole milking Brad off too.

   "Oh, that's hot. Your cock is hot. Yes, it's so hot. Yes," I affirmed in
the rapture of my orgasm. `I love it, Brad. I love hot cock."

   He whimpered as my grainy asshole polished his dickhead, pulling him
beyond the point of return and turning him into an insane animal of lust.

   "Oh, Mark, I'm going to blow my load. Ah! Here I come. Oh, Mark, you
wonderful gayboy, I'm coming in your ass. You're making me spurt in your
horny gay ass."

   "Shoot it, Brad. Let fly."

   "Ah, I'm coming so heavy. Oh, Mark, I've never come like this. I didn't
know it could be like this."

   When my cock had shot its load, I felt Brad slowing his strokes. He
humped me slowly for a few thumps; then he carefully pulled his cock out of
my hole. My asshole made a popping sound as he drew out his
dickhead. Turning, I saw that the tough condom was swollen with semen.

   "You sure shot a load, Brad."

   "Yeah, I never had an ass like yours, Mark. You really put it out."

   I grinned. I've always been proud of my anal skills. I rested a naked
buttock on the fallen tree while Brad packed the used condom and wrapper in
a disposable baggie. He wiped the excess lubricant from my fresh-fucked
asshole and added it to the garbage.

   "You give great cock, Brad," I assured him, rubbing his softening cock.

   "Do you still feel me inside of you?"

   "Oh, yes," I said, pulling on my jersey. "I'll be feeling a shadow fuck
for the rest of the day."

   Before I could pull on my red shorts, Brad kissed me again, his callused
hand petting my ass cheeks. I felt an overall warmth anew as he lovingly
stroked my ass.

   "You have a beautiful set of hunkies, Mark," he whispered after pulling
his tongue from mine. Our cocks were semi-stiff once more, but for the
present we'd exhausted the juices in our balls.

   "My butt sure does attract the guys," I bragged. "But you're the best
I've ever had."

   "I wish I could keep my dick up your ass forever," he said. "I liked
sucking on your cock, too." Suddenly he placed his lips close to my ear and
shyly whispered a secret longing. "I want your big cock up my ass. I've
never been fucked, but I want you to stick it to me the same way I gave it
to you. Not right now, but soon."

   We dressed and left the eerie realm of ancient trees. As we were
pedaling back the dirt single track toward the paved corridor, a mule deer
stood beside a young aspen tree and watched us retire from his domain. A
flock of wrens took flight from the blackberry bushes as we rejoined the
asphalt bicycle path.

   I pedaled hard and the powerful muscles of my buttocks drove my bicycle
forward. My asshole felt wet and a little sticky, and it ached pleasurably
from the terrific pounding it had received. The sensations made me smile as
I pedaled.

   "I sure put a smile on your face, Mark," Brad gloated.

   His smirk was just as broad. I winked seductively at my new lover, and
we pedaled to the distant end of the bicycle path. There we sat on top of a
picnic table under a shelter, munched carbohydrate bars, and guzzled sports
drinks. We waved and smiled at joggers and other cyclists; in between we
kissed, making out proudly on top of the picnic table.

   Finally, we pedaled back the way we had come. As we neared the Western
trailhead, my heart began to race. Had Brad meant what he said, I wondered.

   "Mark, I live close by," Brad suggested. "How about stopping off for a
shower? We can soap each other up and towel each other off."

   "Yeah, sounds like fun," I agreed.

   Brad led the way, and I followed his curvaceous ass. He had buns like
mine, the kind that come from years of pushing a bicycle. There lay
territory I needed to explore, and I blew a promising kiss at Brad's ass as
I followed him home.

   Brad lived in a traditional log house on the bluff overlooking Johnson
Creek. It looked like the family home of an early settler. We hung our
helmets on our handlebars, locked our bicycles in his shed, and removed our
cycling shoes at the front door. When he led me inside, I was overwhelmed
by the Native American artifacts, wall hangings, and knotted rugs. Two
Corgi dogs rushed to greet us, and after Brad had introduced me to the
boys, he took me by the hand and showed me around.

   Upon reaching the laundry room, he pulled off his shirt and stepped out
of his shorts. I could not restrain a lusty gasp, which made him grin. I
tweaked his left nipple. I felt my cock hardening, and I saw that Brad's
cock was rising as well. I touched my tongue to his left nipple while I ran
my thumb over his right.

   "You like to pitch as well as catch?" he asked hopefully. "Oh, yes,
that's nice, Mark."

   "Yum, umm," I answered. He wanted to get fucked, but he was shy about
asking for it. I thought it touching.

   "I want you," he said.

   "How do you want me?" I demanded, my hands exploring his ass.

   I slipped behind him and kissed the nape of his neck, my erect cock
nestling between his butt cheeks. Instinctively he arched his back and
stuck out his ass like a cat in heat. Then he shyly pulled away.

   "Wait," he said, gasping. "Throw your stuff into the washer. We'll go
into the shower."

   I pulled down my shorts--his gift shorts--and tossed them into the
washer along with my jersey and socks. He added soap and turned on the
washer. Then he grabbed my standing cock and pulled me into a shower that
stood off the laundry room. I followed like a pull-toy.

   Under the spray of hot water, our lips met. The kiss was long and
lingering and seemed to suffuse my entire body until I melted like butter
in the sun. My legs wobbled, and I slowly sank to my knees. Brad's massive,
round buttocks were standing before my face, the water cascading over his
cheeks and down his deep crevice. I planted my face against his crack and
my tongue slid from my mouth as if it possessed a will of its own. I licked
from the top of his crack down to his little rosebud. The tip of my tongue
circled the rim.

   "Oh, yes, Mark," Brad pleaded. "Lick my ass. No other man has ever
touched my asshole, but I want you to lick my ass. And much, much more."

   I licked and tongued him until I had him moaning with pleasure. I darted
my tongue into his asshole even as the water from the showerhead cascaded
over my head and down my face. My dick was throbbing again, and I wanted to
stick it into him just as he had stuck his cock to me.

   "Yes, Mark, fuck me," Brad moaned, reading my mind. "Give me my first
butt fuck. Teach me how to take it."

   "We can't do it in the shower," I said, determined not to allow passion
to lead us into less safe sex. My words sounded silly considering where my
mouth had just been, but Brad turned off the water and grabbed a couple of
towels. We had fun drying each other. Brad's hands traveled over every inch
of my body--as they were meant to do. I nearly ejaculated when he dried
my dick.

   "Whoops," he said. "Let's hit the bed."

   The bedside table held condoms, lubricant, and anal toys--proving that
Brad's asshole wasn't as virginal as he claimed. Nevertheless, we left the
butt plugs and beads alone because we'd had enough foreplay. Brad was ready
to be penetrated, and I was mad with lust. He asked me to lube his ass. His
asshole needed no persuasion. My fingers glided in easily, and I twisted
them as I filled him with a generous quantity of lubricant. When I had him
ready for action, I propped a couple of pillows under his midsection and
prepared hump him.

   "I'm ready," he proclaimed. "Ready for your dick, Mark."

   His voice was brusque with lust, and I knew that he wanted it
badly. After slipping the condom over my swollen cock and lubricating it, I
climbed atop him and positioned my dick head against his asshole. My heart
beat fast. I thought about how much I loved receiving a thick cock up my
ass, and how wonderful Brad had made me feel. I wanted to make it as good
for him as he had for me.

   "Slide it in," Brad urged. "I'll be your gayboy. Fill me up."

   I did so. I pushed my loins downward, and Brad's asshole opened around
my cock. Brad emitted a long, low moan of pleasure as I entered him.

   "Oh, Mark, that's wonderful. That's so wonderful," he murmured. "I want
you inside me all the way. Fill me, Mark. Fill me and fuck me."

   I had known him barely half a day, but I knew that I had found my twin
soul. He was the other half I had been seeking for so long. "I love you,
Brad," I whispered into his ear as I drove my hips downward and inserted my
cock to the hilt in his ass.

   "Oh, oh, yes," Brad moaned, shuddering with delight. "I'm really doing
it. I'm taking it up my ass. It's my first time." Then he added, "I love
you too, Mark."

   His ass was rising to meet my thrusts, and I felt like he was gripping
my cock with an asshole of steel. As I thrust into him, my dick quivered
and bucked with anticipation of the rush to come.

   "Oh, Brad, what you're doing to me," I exclaimed in a long groan of
sexual exultation. "You're milking me off. Oh, Brad, your ass is so good."

   "I love the way you fill me, Mark," he was chanting. "It's so good. Oh,
yeah. You fill me so good."

   I could not slow down; I could not stop my ass from driving my cock
faster and faster. As Brad emitted a long, keening moan, the tingles of
approaching orgasm began in the head of my cock. I could not have
stopped. Much as I wanted to prolong the delicious agony. I could not hold
off. Nor could Brad. He was coming from the fucking I was giving him, and I
was willing to let it happen.

   "I'm going to blast cum into you, Brad," I moaned. "I'm going to let
fly."

   "I'm getting my rocks off too," he howled. "Oh, it's so good, Mark. You
fuck my gay ass so good."

   I kept thrusting into those round, firm mounds of flesh as he bucked
with orgasm and ejaculation beneath me. The tingling sensation in my cock's
head grew until it was impossible to stop. I was committed to shoot my
load.

   "Here it comes," I shouted as the first salvo shot from my dick. My
pelvis was contracting. Even my eyelids fluttered as the waves of orgasm
swept over me. It was if my brain had exploded with a thousand nuclear
bombs while millions of tiny rainbows swept from lobe to lobe. Everything
was firing at once as I humped Brad's ass maniacally.

   Still raptures of orgasm swept over me, and if I had been capable of
conscious thought, I would have realized that Brad was experiencing a
similar body rush. Contraction followed contraction as the shooting muscles
at the base of my penis thrust my load into Brad's hot, tight ass.

   After centuries, eons, eternities of half-conscious orgasm, my
contractions slowed. I was still humping with my hips as though my body
willed to massage every possible drop of fluid out of my balls and
dick. Finally, I collapsed atop Brad, my breath coming in great ragged
gasps and my heart pounding.

   "Mark, that was incredible," Brad wheezed. I could feel his body
quivering from the terrific exertion. "If this isn't love, I don't know
what is."

   From that day forth, Brad and I bicycled on my days off, dated three
times a week, and spent so much time e-mailing and talking on the phone
that I received a reprimand from my employer. At the end of two months, I
broke my lease and moved into Brad's house. Brad soon convinced me to quit
my job, which had been teetering on the brink of termination since the day
I met him, and to share the comfortable existence his family trust fund
provided. Brad had never worked for an unsympathetic employer, and he saw
no reason why his lover's time should be so unprofitably occupied.

   Brad and I make love all the time. In fact, we can't keep our hands off
each other, and since we're both sexually versatile--within the preferred
homosexual context--our lives are deeply fulfilling, even as we fill our
bodies with another kind of fullness.

   By the second time we bicycled together, Brad had purchased matching red
shorts. Since then, we have dressed alike whenever we bicycle and other
riders frequently ask if we are part of a team. We reply in the
affirmative, and sometimes we explain what kind of team we are. In fact,
Brad recently came up with a great idea. We're going to buy a tandem.



The End