Date: Sun, 18 Aug 2002 12:21:55 -0400
From: David Land <ltrain2827@hotmail.com>
Subject: Summer Storm

It was weird. This kind of thing never happens to
me. But it did. And certainly not when I was expecting
it. It was hot, outrageously hot. One of those New
York August days that make you wonder why you'd ever
want to live here. I'd dragged my ass all over town
that day, in and out of the suffocating subways,
uptown, downtown and finally back to Brooklyn.
I waited until just before the sun went down
before I went out for a run. I rode my bike the short
distance over to the outdoor track. There were a lot
of people out. The Puerto Rican kids playing handball,
the Poles walking their long loops, the Mexicans
playing soccer in the middle of the track, some of the
moms and the little kids running around, lots of
people running. I locked up my bike and found a little
piece of asphalt to stretch on. Just stretching out
made me sweat. I took a swig of water at the fountain
and started my run.
I like to run at the track. I kind of fall into a
trance at the monotony of it. I count. A quarter,
half, three quarters, one mile, quarter, half, three
quarters, two miles. I like to come around dusk and
watch the sky change as I go in these circles.
Today the sky was turning an angry red. At the
northeast corner of the track the clouds turned dark,
dark grey behind the tiny needle of the Empire State
Building in the distance, across the river. On the
other end of the track there was a thick grouping of
trees that blocked what little breeze there was, and
with the humidity, it felt like running through a
steam room.
I was on my third mile when I noticed him. On the
west end of the track there's kind of a makeshift
workout area. A pull-up bar, some planks for sit-ups,
some steps, and a couple of other things jury-rigged
for working out. Usually there are a couple of Puerto
Rican guys working out there who make the west end
particularly interesting.
At this point I was completely soaked with sweat.
My tank top was drenched, my jock was dripping
underneath the thin shorts I was wearing. The fountain
is by the workout area and I stopped for a second to
get a drink. After I was done, I turned to see a man
doing pushups against a waist level bar. I could only
see him from the back, but that was a lot. He wasn't
wearing a shirt, just a pair of dark soccer shorts. In
the split second I stood there I took in the sight of
his big arms, huge shoulders pushing against the bar.
He was dark skinned and his skin glistened with sweat.
There was a twitch down below and I kept running. The
sky was getting darker and the color began to drain
from the sky. As I came around again he was facing
towards me, waiting for someone else to finish his
set. He wasn't that tall, maybe 5'9, he was older,
maybe late 30's, he had a moustache, definitely Puerto
Rican. He was standing with his arms crossed over his
chest. He had big solid pecs with that slight bit of
roundness that comes with a steady diet of cervesas.
His belly protruded just a bit, a thick trail of hair
leading down to -- I passed again and turned over his
image in my mind. As I came around again he was doing
pull-ups. His biceps strained to pull him up, as he
came down his whole torso extended and I groaned as I
saw something heavy swinging in his shorts. I passed
again. When I came around again he was just dropping
to the ground, he lifted his arm up to wipe the sweat
from his brow, exposing one hairy armpit. He was
dripping with sweat. As he lowered his arm, time
slowed down a bit and I thought, maybe, he looked my
direction, at me, he thinks I'm checking him out, and
of course I am, but I'd like not to get my ass kicked
today.
My heart races, I'm going a bit crazy I think.
I'm also losing steam -- two more laps. It's verging on
night, and the Mexicans are running, chasing the ball,
most of them are not wearing shirts -- everyone is wet.
This isn't helping. It's almost night and the track
lights mixing with the fading colors of the sky make
an odd mixture, like it's a movie or something.
I am approaching again and I am looking, not
looking. He's doing sit-ups on one of the planks and I
think this is good because he can't see me not looking
at him. I slow down a tiny, to make the moment last. I
study his legs, bent at the knee, sturdy and thick.
His arms behind his head, showcasing the biceps. His
torso strains to pull him up. I think I'm in the clear
to continue my admirations. As I am passing I am
looking right at him, trying to see if I can catch a
glimpse of something between the legs. Again, time
slows down and as I am craning my neck in what must be
the most obvious fashion, he stops at the top of his
sit-up and looks directly at me. I look quickly away,
but am I imagining that he is watching me as I pass?
O.K., I am definitely not wanting to get my ass
kicked, but is it the delirium of the heat that made
me believe that maybe -- no, couldn't be. One more lap.
Then cool down. The crowds are thinning. People are
going home. The sky is tuning that strange green-grey
it gets before it storms.
I am approaching again. He is finishing his sit-
ups. He is standing up. He adjusts what looks to be
something big in his shorts and he looks at me as I
pass by. He is definitely looking at me. No mistaking
it. I almost trip over myself. He doesn't smile but
something passes over his face, which I recognize
distantly.
I pass. I do the last quarter lap. I slow down to
a walk. My heart is racing and it is not from the
running. I continue to walk around the track. I
normally do this to cool down, so I try not to feel
queer about doing it now as if it's some ploy to see
him one more time.
I am approaching again. He is leaning against a
bench. He is watching me approach. Someone says
something to him in Spanish, which I cannot quite
catch. He turns his head to the other guy and says
something quickly and the guy saunters over to a small
family near the soccer players. He turns back to me.
His stare is so intense. I am sure, now, that
something is going to happen although I'm not sure
what. As I am passing he nods his head at me. I nod
back, and because I can't think what else to do I keep
walking.
Footsteps behind me. I feel holes bearing into my
back. I am suddenly very self-conscious of my shorts,
which I am sure you can see my strap through.
Footsteps closer. I'm rounding the bend near the
grouping of trees. He's right behind me. He's next to
me. His hand on the small of my back. A light shove
towards the trees.
"Vaminos," he says.
I look over at him. His face. His eyes dark and
hungry. His skin so smooth and shiny with sweat. I
look into his eyes and all I can think is, yes.
We walk towards the trees and into them. He
pushes me forward. We walk in a bit. He stops. He
turns and he leans against one of the trees. He grabs
my wrist and pulls me around to him. A smile curls up
faintly on his lips. He pulls my hand down to his
crotch and -- holy shit! He can see the desire grow on my
face and he knows I want it. He knows I've always
wanted it. I'm panting and feeling breathless. His
lips full and dark, barely smiling, enjoying watching
me crumble.
"Bajate" he says quietly.
And I do. On my knees. We are hidden, but only
slightly. If anyone were to pass through here, we'd be
busted. But that was the last thing on my mind. He
pulls the waistband of his shorts down to expose more
of that dark trail. The first inch of his dick. My
mouth opens instinctively. He reaches in and hauls out
his dick. He's already half hard and I am
disappointed, only because I would have liked to see
this go from absolute soft. It's about six now and
fat. The head is still covered in his thick skin. He
peels it back and reveals the shiny head. With one
hand he pulls my head closer and with the other he
wipes the head of his prick against my lips. The
smell, oh God. He slaps his fat cock against my face a
couple of times and then lines it up with my mouth. He
slides in, smooth as silk, and we both groan.
He starts with short strokes, teasing my mouth.
His thick rubbery cock making short jabs. Then longer,
slipping more of his meat into my mouth. And then
back. I work my tongue over the head and then fall
onto more of it. It's a fucking mouthful. I breathe in
through my nose and inhale the smell of him. Sweat
runs down his chest and stomach, mixing with my spit
on his cock. He pulls me off. He reaches in and hauls
out his huge hairy nuts. They are perfect. Oval eggs
hanging low in that thick hairy sack. I angle myself a
bit lower and get to work on his sack. The pungent
smell of his sweaty balls makes me weak. I get one of
the huge orbs in my mouth and roll it around like some
exotic delicacy. His hand on his heavy rod, pumping,
one hand on my shoulder steadying himself. I can't get
them both in my mouth at the same time so I go to work
on the other one. I am stuffing my self. Trying to get
all of him.
He pulls me off his nuts and I rock back on my
heels a bit. I look up at him. His muscled flesh
rippling and shining in the dim light. That big cock
standing straight upwards now. It's gotta be at least
eight. Fat at the base and tapering gently towards the
head like some kind of perfect missile. The thick
veins pulse under his soft skin. His bag hangs down
low and full, making this quite possibly the most
perfect package I have ever seen. A drop of moisture
appears at his slit and I take that as my cue to get
back to work.
I struggle a bit to bend it back down to my lips.
My tongue flicks out to taste his lube. Salty and
slightly sweet, thick, like some intoxicating syrup.
He slides back in, half way. In, out. I try and work
my tongue around him as much as I can, but it's not as
easy as all that. There's suddenly a great crack in
the sky -- thunder. It sounds like it's on top of us.
The wind picks up a bit. I adjust myself a bit on my
knees and my thighs rub my jock and I realize that I
am near to shooting.
He presses more of his hard smooth flesh into my
mouth and my lips savor every ripple and contour of
his thick shaft. His cockhead touches the back of my
throat. He seems a bit hesitant, but then not as he
pushes to see how far he can go. I gather up all my
strength and do my best to open myself to him and the
head begins to slip down my throat. My eyes water.
"Oye," he moans.
He gives me a second to breathe and I take the
opportunity to slide back up and work my tongue around
his thick foreskin. Another crack -- louder even and
longer and then a flash. Some screaming and scrambling
in the distance as the wind really picks up now. He
grabs the base of his cock and leans it back deep in
my mouth. Now he is less apprehensive as he shoves
more of his meat down my throat. He gets it in all the
way which surprises me, I feel his heavy nuts against
my chin. He pulls back a bit and lets me play with his
dripping cockhead. By now, there's a steady flow of
dick juice and I wonder if that's what enabled me to
swallow his snake. My hands wander up his tree trunk
thighs, massaging his hairy legs. He's pumping now. In
and out. Dragging his dickflesh across my lips.
Shoving it in. I reach around and grab onto the hard
smooth flesh of his round ass and feel his muscles
working as he pumps his engorged shaft in and out of
my wet mouth.
Another crack of thunder, and even though my eyes
are closed in the most intense concentration of
enjoying and pleasuring this man, I see the lightning.
The first drops of rain hit my shoulders.
In the distance someone yells, "Carlos."
He moves faster now. His hands reach around my
head as he holds me still and fucks my face. Long
strokes as I feel all of him slide in and out my
mouth. The smell of him sweating over me. He's
grunting now. The salt of my own sweat stings my eyes
as I open them and strain to see this man. His eyes
are closed and his head is back. Every muscle is
tensed as he focuses all his energy on his goal. The
rain begins to fall a bit harder.
A child yells, "Papa."
I feel it swell, and I know its coming. He's
moving faster. The groans from up above become more
intense. He's all the way down my throat and I feel
him jerk. I reach up and give his nuts a squeeze and
he bellows. He's swearing a blue streak in some mix of
Spanglish. He's coming. I feel his juice pulsing out
the long fat shaft and down my throat. I pull back on
his cock to get more of it in my mouth. He's pumping
his hips as he shoots long hot streams of cum into my
mouth. The intensity surprises me a bit and he's
digging into my shoulders with his hands as he
continues to pump my mouth. The salty thick taste of
his man juice covers my tongue and sends me over the
edge as my own thick cock starts spraying my jock
wildly. He's still coming and it begins to spill out
of my mouth as I struggle to get all of it. Hot jets
of cum erupt from that big meat. He slows his pumping
allowing me to really work my tongue around his meat
and get every last drop. I pump his thick rubbery
shaft with my hand as I try to squeeze out the last of
it.
"Papa," a chorus of little voices, then,
"Carlos!"
The rain is really coming down now. Thunder,
lightning. I'm breathless from trying to swallow all
of him and my own exhausting orgasm. He deflates a
tiny and pulls out of my mouth. He reaches down and
tousles my hair with a look of I don't know what. He
stuffs himself back in his shorts, turns and runs
back, towards the soccer field.
I stand still among the trees and watch him run.
As he approaches the soccer field a woman yells to
him, "Aye, Carlos, where the fuck you been." The
little children scramble around in the rain dancing
around him yelling, "Papa, Papa!"
They all run off together, Carlos, arms around
the woman as they disappear into the storm.
I stand still letting the rain drench me, feeling
my cum run from my jock down my leg, and thinking,
"Damn!"