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Thursday, August 25, 2011

FREE READ ~ THE JOCK

Hello sweeties! Yes, I know, it's painful to think, but summer is almost over. No more strolls on the beach. No more prancing around wildly in your bare feet. No more picking fruit. Fall is nearing and then it'll be winter... Okay shoot me now. LOL Anyway, to bring you up to speed, here is what's happening. The authors of RLJ (Red Lipstick Journals), which includes myself put together a compendium of really short stories to celebrate the summer. And now that August is almost at an end, it's my turn to post my written contribution to this fabulous anthology. Today I've posted the first part of 'THE JOCK' and August 29 I'll be posting the second and final part of 'THE JOCK'. I'm also posting this hot free read @ RLJ. If you'd like to OWN A FREE COPY of this anthology, just read and follow the instructions at the end of this post! Enjoy!

The Jock
Part One
By: Blak Rayne


A small group of scantily clad women, jumped up and down at the corner of the intersection. They yelled and wiggled their signs to attract the attention of passing motorists. Their signs read Car Wash 4 Charity in chunky, red letters. I drove around the block, debating whether I should have them scrub my car down or just head home. No doubt, the Cougar needed it, six months of filth from the winter and spring caked the black paint. I circled the block once more then turned into the lot. The whole place buzzed with activity–hoses, water, bodies and vehicles, definite organized bedlam.
I drove into a parking spot and cranked the air conditioning to high. The car wash brought back some fond memories from my youth and, a summer I’ll never forget. I realized my sexual preference early on, in childhood. When I hit puberty, my attraction to guys matured as my body did. I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted sex and my first real interest, Tim McKellen. Tim and I went to high school together, the jock and the nerd. Initially, I met him in our grade eight-gym class and suspected he flew the same flag–at least I hoped he did. It took me a year to build up the nerve, and then in a grade nine-science class I finally made my move. The teacher asked everyone to pair up for a biology project and I made certain to sit beside Tim. I couldn’t allow anyone else a chance to worm his or her way in, screw that. I’d waited so long for an opportunity.
A friendship developed during the biology project and over time, that friendship grew into more. Three years later, and we were thick as thieves, inseparable. No one had a clue Tim was gay. But I’m pretty sure our fellow classmates suspected something, especially when he invited me to accompany him to our graduation ceremony and prom. An attractive, single guy like Tim didn’t take a buddy to grad. Tim was six foot two, blue-eyed with deep auburn hair and a tanned complexion, which I later discovered came from his part native background.
We graduated, myself with honours, and Tim, with a sports scholarship. We talked, ate and drank until the evening dwindled away then with my hand in his, we snuck out behind the school auditorium. Tim dragged me to a secluded spot, past a cluster of trees masked by the shadow of the moonlight.
“You planned this…” Utterly dazed, I closed my eyes with a moan. My slacks and underwear were down around my ankles, his hand felt damn good.
“Yeah, so, what if I did.”
Tim got in tight to my body, forced me to the wall and continued to fondle my balls and burning erection. Our cocks stood at attention; pressed together between our tremulous bodies, he tugged and played. I didn’t care, I wanted him and I’d take any piece I could get.
“I read this magazine about gay love,” Tim whispered, kissing my chin. “I want us to do it.”
In the three years I’d known him, we’d touched, but not like this. We were into one another, I just never realized how much until that night. I admit the sex wasn’t perfect, never is when you’re a virgin. You fumble along, utilizing the instinct as a guide. The penetration was painful. We were both anxious with the excitement and Tim’s cock probed like a misdirected missile, but the second round went better. We used the truck as an alternative, which provided a bit more comfort and privacy. My slacks hung off the tailgate, my socks were discarded on the ground and my legs, straight up in the air. Tim held my calves to his mouth with a kiss then he spread my thighs apart. Once our lips were infused, his hips drove me to a whole new level of enjoyment. I’d masturbated and used my fingers, but this was different. This was sex with a partner. Tim’s cock inside me was extremely hard, incredibly pleasurable and very real.
School finished and we spent that summer together. Tim and I worked, went to the movies, the beach, and basically hung out. We also engaged in a considerable amount of experimentation in an attempt to build a more serious relationship. Unfortunately, by the end of September we split up, forced to separate because of ignorance and shame. Tim’s father caught us in the pick-up one night, at the edge of the property going at it doggie style. There was no way in hell he’d accept that his attractive, macho son was homosexual. Tim was torn and scared, and me, well, devastated would be the correct word for my emotional state. I cried and busted up my room, even contemplated suicide during a very weak moment. I felt more for Tim than just the lust. In those three years together, I fell for the jock. Even though we were young he’d become my lover and best friend.
There were other men after Tim, what I refer to as the good, the bad and just plain nasty. I drifted through a promiscuous phase, tried the fuck-buddy thing. When I reached thirty, I wanted a relationship that involved commitment, and cohabited with several. Nothing ever panned out. Most of the men were only into it for the safe sex or my money.
Damn, I miss Tim.


* * * *


A set of knuckles tapped the driver side window. The noise startled me. I pushed the button and the window slid down. This man, scented of the summer heat and soap, crouched low with a hand on the door. His hand was rough, his shirt damp and we stared at one another. What a fine specimen.
“Do you want your car washed or not?” he asked.
“Sure.” I notched my sunglasses down and looked directly into his blue eyes. “Where do you want me to park it?” A flirtatious smile curled my lips even though I tried to hide it.
He quietly laughed to himself, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “The group to your left is waiting. It’s on a donation basis. All the money goes to the local drugs and addiction youth program.” He patted the car door and stood up. “If you need anything, I’ll be around back.”
Yeah, I need something, a cold drink and this gorgeous man naked, begging me to love him. Unbelievable, I couldn’t take my eyes off the guy. I drove the car ahead, parked, got out with a brown paper bag in hand and closed the door. The heat waves rolled across the asphalt; at ninety degrees in the shade, the day was a scorcher. Sudsy water sprayed my car and I wandered to the rear of the lot, beyond the bays, making certain no one noticed. There was an office at the back of the brick building. The metal door to the office wedged open with a rock. The guy had a cell to his ear. Soon as he saw me, he made up an excuse, said goodbye and hung up.
“Hey…” I approached him. “What would be a fair donation?”
“Ten bucks.” He paused. “–you were gone a lot longer than two days, Adrian!”
The gruff accusation meant nothing.
“The meeting ran an extra day.”
“You could’ve phoned at least.” Tim yanked me close by my shirt with a subtle grin. “You had me worried, baby.”
“There’s no need to worry, I’m here.” I produced the bottle of champagne to him as a peace offering. “And besides, it’s our anniversary and I’d never miss our anniversary.”
“You’re always thoughtful.” Tim locked an arm at my lower back, kissed me then walked us past the metal door into the office. “I don’t deserve it–I don’t deserve you.” He kicked the rock and the door slammed shut.
The office felt several degrees cooler than the outside.
We Frenched, and I cracked open the champagne. It foamed and we laughed, each taking a swig. All right, so drinking-out-of-the-bottle, not that romantic, but who said anything about romance. Romance was meant for the bedroom and the last time I checked we weren’t anywhere near the house. And, no sexual contact for three days, we were both pumped for action.

Blak Rayne
‘Taking erotic to a sinful new level…’
Copyright © Blak Rayne 2011

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.


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2 comments:

  1. Loved the short. Can't wait for you to post the rest!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Glad you like, Katheen! And thank you for stopping by!

    ReplyDelete