|Blogs > MrLear > Soft Cell|
Saturday morning and the weekend is free! George opens his eyes to his well kept room. George lays in bed with a glazed look on his face. The room, a little different than most teenagers rooms, I mean on the surface the football paraphernalia; hot posters of chicks and cars, looks normal enough, but it’s just too clean and organized to feel normal. The trophies of a athlete doing well enough, sitting in row, and carefully placed on the dresser are just a little to perfectly set up: exact distance apart from each other and not a spec of dust on any of them.
George rolls to his side of his bed and knowing his parents have gone away for the week he strategizes for a moment, “just do the lawn by Sunday evening and the rest is George time.”
Over a bowl of corn flakes George sitting at the big clean dinning room table starts to wonder about most of his gang who have already left for their summer holidays. His best friend Johnny is gone and having never been apart from Johnny since the 1st grade, George sits quietly chewing this over trying to bat away that little voice that does all the worrying for him.
George decides, even if it is Saturday, he needs to go for a run and clear himself of all this thinking.
His knees kick up as the shadows fall in patterns above each step. George heads down Cameron Ave until hitting 5th ST. then follows 5th down to the river valley.
It’s a sunny Saturday morning and George maneuvers with quick precision through the light foot traffic along the walking path. Finding his pace George starts to breathe a little better. He moves along the rivers edge feet springing off each step. His strong lean arms loosely fold aback and forth at the hips swaying in a loose rhythm to his long lean figure erect and focused. George concentrating on his technique tries to work each little bounce out of his stride while gliding along the pathways. His body takes to the rhythm, feeling at ease with the work passing under him, chest in the air, it takes very little thought at all. He cuts off the paved pathway and heads across the grass toward the rougher terrain of the tree area.
His heals kick higher towards the tops of the trees as his pace quickens through the thicket. Each short cut between the uneven trees is met in stride having gained the focus from the years of training and jumping through hoops. Down through the river valley, along side the moving water, his mind mulls over what will become of him. He runs through the trees dodging, jumping and like following the back of his hand he easily meets up with the paved pathway again. Without Johnny what will George do to fend for himself? What will he do when his parents come back, get a job? Will he do anything fun this summer?
He pushes it for about a 500 meters, pumping his legs harder, kicking back further, strides quickening, lungs expanding, his arms stabbing atthe air; his whole body tense, hitting the wall, fighting to get over it, fighting to push through it, and grabs and pulls inside himself until it collapses on him almost taking him down with it; he staggers to a stop. George walks off the burn in his legs and thighs while catching his breath. He wanders over to the bench he has occupied every morning Monday to Friday for almost a year now. After positioning his feet correctly he starts his stretches; first into some deep squats holding each one for about twenty seconds. The burn from the back of his leg feels good as he leans into another stretch. Sighing as though ready to melt he flips over repeating the experience on the other leg.
Deep into his breathing George is startled a bit by something flashing through the bushes. Thinking it is probably just another runner he goes back into another deep stretch. Catching the blur of another figure in the trees George this time stands quietly trying to focus his eyes. There is something in the trees but he can’t make out what it is and then it's gone. Standing there he waits and because nothing more happens he bends forward into the burn. Finding his breathing George slowly descends pushing out harder this time.
A sound, a sound of an animal or something gets George standing still listening again with his whole body. Then nothing. He peers around from where he stands and curious George quietly steps into the trees.
Damp and dark George now inside the edge of the tree line waits a moment for his eyes to adjust. Seeing nothing around he decides to venture a little further and quickly finds out there is nothing around but bushes and trees. More relaxed George walks silently, trying to listen to the distance and comes to a thinned out forest area with a few evergreens to cut out the wide view. Feeling safe and surprised at how beautiful the forest is he starts his stretches again. Breathing out with a sigh he pulls a knee up to his chest, holds it for the count then lets it down again.
Suddenly he hears a mans voice and that sound again. The sound is close and this time it’s more human like than animal. George slowly and quietly moving through the old growth forest makes his way to the back of a tree where he peeks around the thick base catching up with the noise.
There on the other side of the tree and about 30 feet away two men can be seen. The one man is younger and bent down in front of the other who is visibly much older. The boy is rubbing the front of the man's crotch and the old man is just standing there. George watches the man on the ground undo the pants of the man standing in front of him. The old man standing with his back to George steps out of his pants and underwear.
Shocked by this George ducts back behind the tree. Holding his breath George's heart starts to race and he finds himself getting excited.
The older man moans and the noise from the mouth of the younger man can be heard from behind the tree. Slowly George moves to look again. The young man’s hands massage the older man, his big thighs, ass and slowly his head starts bobbing in and out of view.
George unable at this point to look away suddenly feels a slight burning in his crotch. Surprised and slowly being taken over by these feelings his warming crotch soon grows into something a bit more serious. Heated he stands their watching the young man sucking, buckling his head back and forth working in rhythm to the soothing moans of the older man.
Georges heart rate quickens when the older man turns around, his huge cock swinging itself into view, pink and fat much bigger than anything he’s seen in any dressing room. Unable to look away the quick glimpse of this mans cock sears itself into George’s memory.
Instructed to take off his clothes the young man does so, undressing very quickly. George notices that the young slim man is folding his clothes neatly and carefully places them to the side. Focusing on this George looses concentration for a second and when he returns the older man is now standing over the young man knelt at his feet.
To get a better glimpse George slips forward to the back of another tree.
“Position,” the older man barks out and again without hesitation the younger man lays down on his back, putting his head back slightly arched up off the forest floor, arms slip above his head with hands clasped and slowly, ever so slowly, his legs, wide apart and bent at the knees, are lifted.
The older man while taking his shirt off seems at the same time to be inspecting this. Strutting over holding his chest high and looking down at this boy he simply says, “Nadu.”
This queues the boy to slowly lower his legs which he does shaking from the strain and bringing them back to their starting position. He then quickly gets back up on his knees with hands clasped at his back.
“Position!” the man again barks and this time the young man rolls over onto his stomach spreading his legs out and bringing his hands back out to his sides he from the tips of his toes and the palms of his hands towers his ass into the air fully exposing his privates.
The boys cock now fully hardened is offered to the old man to inspect and is done so by looking closely at the balls and cock and asshole, and even going so far as to smell him, “Good,” he says while walking over to his pants to pull loose his belt.
“Lesha!” The young man goes to his knees bends his body forward holding it up off the ground. He places his arms behind his back remaining exposed to the old man. The silver haired man walks over to the side of the boy, "Lesha," and the boy lifts his chin and turns his head up so the now folded through belt can easily be slipped around his throat like a collar, “Good!” He tightens it around the boy’s jugular and gives it a quick tug which sends a buckling through the young mans already tense body. Holding onto the belt and kneeling down to position himself the older man takes the boys hands and cuffs them.
George fully excited and not really thinking clearly slowly moves from tree to tree so as the get around for a profile. On his belly he crawls under an evergreen and moves in closer.
The young man is now in plain view and George is surprised to notice he’s never seen either of these two before in his whole life. About 17 and well built the boy has dark hair and is of mixed race, Spanish or something. The older man a Caucasian in his fifties could easily pass for any aging constriction worker.
Staying focused the old man slowly presses himself against the opening. The boy tenses up and moans out a soft whimper.
Watching the muscles in the boy thighs tighten sends Georges hand down to his cock now stabbing to get loose. Passing his fingers over the bulge in his pants he grabs and strokes at himself through the stretched tight material. The hand circles over and over the head of his penis as he watches the boy again buckle against the old man.
The older man massages the boys ass with his free hand and again slowly pushes into him, first the head of his cock and then part of the shaft. He pauses for a moment then starts to slowly move back and forth inside. The boy twitching from the pain instinctively kicks up his leg. Very aggressively the old man repositions the boy, pulling back on the belt and leaning his weight forward. From where George is hiding he can sees everything and looking right into the boys face he watches the expression change. The strained brow softens and his full lips starts to part. He moans a soft cry as his face starts to flush. The old man tugs at the belt and George can see it pinching the boys skin at the buckle. Suddenly and slowly the boy starts to move. Slowly the boy pushes back on the man to help push the hardened cock further inside him. He wets his lips with his tongue and stretches his spin back as the old man tightens the grip. The boys breathing quickens in unison with the old man who is starting to pick up his rhythm. Face beat red, mouth open wide, the young man gasps for air as he rotates his hips gyrating back and forth. Faster and faster the two build together, their breathing loose and heavy now starts to mount together in a chorus of moaning and grunting.
While George quietly touches himself, the sight of the huge cock slipping in and out of the young boys ass long and very thick entering again and again is almost too much. Socked at the size of the cock George again looses focus thinking of what he knows of his own ass and wondering how the old man can fit himself in there at all.
The old man tugging back harder on the belt almost lifts the boy off his hands, the fingers straining at their tips to balance the weight. The strokes quicken and suddenly the bodies are clamoring towards one last great stride. The old man smacks the boys bottom with his free hand and like riding a bronco he grinds back and forth inside leaning back on the belt pumping and pumping until, suddenly in one quick stab his whole body tenses up, "uhhhh." The old man gasps out loud, arches his back curls his toes and collapses.
Surprised by the quickness of everything George finally realizes how exposed his position really is and starts to panic. Quickly and slowly he retreats back through the trees and once out of range he starts to run, and run, run like he has never run before.
He cuts past the trees in a blur until he finds himself back at the bench, safe again. Standing their panting and gasping for breath. Looking down at himself his hands move to cover the very obvious bulge in his pants. George quickly sits down on the bench to cover up.
After catching his breath the little voice inside him takes no time to start up, making itself heard. Sifting through the confusion of what just happened and holding his cock in his hands waiting for it to subside he tries to shake off the nagging fear of these knew feelings and what they might involve. Why was he so turned on by this? He’s never had these thoughts before, has he? He searches through his mind and to his surprise he realizes he always thinks of his best friend Johnny. Why does he always think of the one time when they fooled around together sharing a tent while camping? He thinks about that experience and realizes he has been mulling that event over and over in his mind since it happened, at least once a day, why?
Disturbed George stands again to walk away but again the sight of his crotch quickly changes his mind.
“Have I always thought this way,” he thinks to himself, “What if I’m gay?
I can’t be Gay! I’m not a fag! I play football and….” Then listening to the little voice he asks himself, “Why don’t I try to pick up Sally like everyone else does? Why am I a virgin? Am I virgin because I’m gay?” Sitting there for a long time and thinking through his past he struggles with his memory and comes to no clear conclusion. “What am I going to do?”
George thinks of his father, his mother, the whole family, “Who am I going to talk to about this, Father Smith?” He shakes his head knowing this is impossible knowing in less than a day everyone around for miles will know about it.
Suddenly from behind the tree line the young man now alone walks out onto the path towards George. Paralyzed buy fear and shame, George forces himself to make no eye contact. He can’t even bring himself to look in the direction of the young man.
“Hey,” the young man says cracking a little smile while picking up his pace.
“Hey,” George says in return almost off the audible scale.
The young man swiftly walks past George saying nothing more with his head held high. George watches him, his long strides pulling and shaping the jeans tightly around his ass, blue work shirt fitted around the waist also pulling and bagging with each stride. Disappearing around the corner and out of sight George can see by just looking down at himself that the young man might be out of sight but he’s not out of mind.