Date: Mon, 15 Feb 2010 04:06:42 -0800 (PST)
From: Julian Otero <ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Boy and His Bike

A Boy And His Bike
A fourteen year old boy captures
the heart of a thirty-two year old man


    I was walking up Lincoln Place when I saw him. His name was Noah. Noah
James Madison. He was on the bike I bought him for his birthday and wearing
the outfit. He always wore it when he rode. The trees made dappled light on
the street but I could still appreciate his young body in the snug
spandex. He was proud of his body and I was proud of him. He was just past
fourteen. He could be my son. "Come to me, my little bed-head beauty" I
thought to myself. He rode magnificently, like a champion. I thought often
about his hot little asshole pressed down on the hard narrow seat of the
bike, and grew hard myself.

    When he saw me he rode away, circled back, and passed me at high speed
not even glacing my way. Yesterday I saw him with a girl outside the movie
house and--I'm not sure--I think he gave me the finger.

    The little bitch. He could have at least said hello. Fuck you, you
little cunt. Now you don't know me, now you got what you wanted so bad. He
made me feel like shit. I pictured him crashing the bike. I pictured him
hit by 18 wheeler, his fine body squashed like a bug all tangled in the
bike. Dead. Blood all over. Bitch... Ok... ok. I take that back. I don't
want you dead sweet boy. Or hurt. But Noah, rejection is hard to take from
a little fourteen year old prick. Now I know I love you.

     The bike was a gift. He earned it. I remember how.

    Noah lived a few blocks away. I'd see him from time to time, noticed
him because he was cuter than average and had a great little ass. It
reminded my of my girl friend's. My ex-girl friend. Another bitch.

    One day Noah stopped me on the street. "Mister, excuse me. You got any
errand or little job I can do for you?" He looked like he was twelve. I
could see it wasn't easy for him to ask.

    "You need money?"

    "Yeah. I don't mean to bother you. I could use a few bucks."

    "You're not bothering me." He looked away, embarrassed.

    I regarded him with a sweep of my eyes. "Well, let me think...I'm sure
there's something." Up close he was even cuter. My glance catalogued many
desirable traits quickly: I'm a sucker for dimples and freckles, for long
lashes and bedroom eyes, prominent cheek bones and full lips.

    "What do you need money for?" I'm a sucker for white teeth too. "No
allowance?"

    He glanced down at his sneakers, which were in a pretty used-up
condition. I'm a sucker for worn and ripped jeans that hang from the hips
and are snug in the crotch. It looked liked he never combed his hair--bed
head--but it fell around his face attractively.

    "You know, I was just on my way to get a few burgers. You want to come
with me? My treat. We can talk over what job I have for you."

    "Yeah, sure." He was as eager as a puppy.

    McDonalds. On the way we learned each other's name. Named after his
father, he was thirteen, went to the Catholic school by the railroad, liked
to play baseball, liked to ride his bike. It was beat-up. He was saving for
a new one.

    We sat over two ¼ pounders, fries, shake, more fires, soda. More
soda. All for him. I had coffee. The kid could put it away but I had no
idea where in his slim frame it all went.

    Stuffed with food he became drowsy and the conversation lagged. Until I
asked about his bike.

    He told me a long sad story about how old and fucked-up it was; that
his mother had bought it for him used--all she could afford--and that he
was ashamed of it, it needed fixing but he didn't know how. But he had to
ride it. Riding made him feel good. He gets away on it when his mother
drinks too much. Gets away and rides when the dirty sheets, dirty dishes,
dirty underwear, ripped furniture depress him too much.

    There were all these "really cool dudes" his age "that race for
trophies and stuff" and he was envious, and could never afford the right
bike and outfit like they have. "Like you know, I can ride good. Maybe not
as good as those guys yet, but I'm pretty good." His pretty eyes took on a
far-away look. "Those outfits are pretty cool." He talked about racing.

    I knew what he meant. I had seen those kids on the web and indeed they
looked "cool," or rather hot--very hot. Young bodies clad in lycra spandex
that fit like skin. I imagined him dressed so.

    "Can't your father fix it up for you?" But I already guessed the
answer.

    "He's not around."

    Wheels began to turn. You'll get your bike, kid. It'll be a fair
trade. The outfit too. I'm already seeing you in it.

    During the next weeks I found a few tasks for him to do and always
overpaid him. He seemed a little dazed all the time; not sure if he had a
right to exist. He was more polite around me than necessary. He was starved
for affection. And starved for spending money. He had friends but felt
always on the edge of things, ashamed of his poverty and his home. I
worried because he had a body too beautiful for a boy and in a neighborhood
like ours it could get him into trouble. He'd easily get ass-fucked by some
of the older teens he couldn't defend against. His ass was looking pretty
good to me, even.

    When he showed up unexpectedly and there was no work we sat and talked
over a soda, talked about this-and-that and sexual topics soon came up. I
was accepting of everything he said and Noah opened up a little about his
sex life which was normal, but mimimal for his age.

    I gave him a few rides on my Honda 1100 and the feel of his slender
body pressed against my back gave me a hardon each time. I knew I had to
have him. I'd broken with my girlfriend four months ago and hadn't fucked
anything but my hand since. Suddenly boy pussy looked pretty good. I could
imagine his tight little butt around my dick.

    Almost a month after that first meeting I just came right out with
it. I'll buy the bike I told him, the one he had his heart set on. He could
pay me back over the next year doing odd jobs. But it was obvious to both
of us there really wasn't much for him to do.

    He looked at me and smiled. I could see he was silently weighing the
proposition, making some private calculation, deciding something for
himself.

    "Yes," he said finally, "cool. I'd like that. Thank you." Smile. I felt
my heart melt. When he stood I looked at his crotch and he saw me
look. More smile. Or smirk?

    The bike wasn't cheap. But neither was Noah.

    He was more excited and appreciative than it thought he'd be. I felt
like Santa Claus. He rode for miles everyday and ended with soda and talk
on my back porch. I waited for an opening.

    "You know, you need one of those outfits they wear. Supposed to be
comfortable more than regular clothes. I'll buy one for you if you want."

    On-line we found what he liked, a blue and orange deal, with stripes
and chevrons and logos, and I bought it. As soon as it came he tried it on.

    "Go look at yourself in the mirror in the bedroom, dude. You look
pretty tough."

    My plan was going smoothly and my cock was beginning to grow.

    I heard him say "Cool!  Thanks Al! These are really great."

    I went to look. He was twisted around looking at his ass. All I could
do was hold my breath. Cool wasn't the word. Hot was the word. Very hot. He
turned and admired himself again. I stood close behind gazing over his
shoulder at the spot between his legs. The outfit was all I had hoped it
would be. The light blue spandex molded around his cock as if painted
on. The knee length shorts were like slippery skin. Now I had second
thoughts: if he goes whizzing around in this outfit he's gonna maybe get
some unwanted attention, and bring some on me too.

    As I mused on this I could see he was starting to grow a bone. A nicely
outlined teenage erection angled sideways, leftward. I thought I could even
see the nice little head. Circumcised.

    "You gotta wear something underneath, Noah."

    "Uh, yeah, I guess."

    Here's the opening. Courage, I thought.

    I placed my hands on his shoulders and felt the coolness of the
fabric. The tight fitting jersey displayed his torso, his nipples,
temptingly.

    "You're gonna have all the hot girls looking at you in this," and I
slid my hands down and felt his nipples. "And I bet some boys too."

    He sort of snickered at this and made no attempt to move away.  I could
go further. My lips touched the back of his neck. Momentarily I let my
tongue make contact. Noah made a small noise which sounded like a titter a
girl would make. But he stayed put. Down along his body my hands traveled,
hesitated for a brief second at his waist, then around to his warm groin.

    He felt very large, and I told him so. I told him how sexy and
beautiful he was, how desirable, how I was attracted to him. How I loved
his laugh, his eyes, his cute nose, the way he walked, and his tempting
ass. There was no sign that this made him uneasy. In fact, he leaned into
me and we joined our bodies from our thighs to our shoulders. I held my
breath. I could feel his body surrender into me. I thought, "I'm about to
fuck a young boy, Carol. I'll bet he's a better fuck than you, bitch" Carol
and I didn't part on the best of terms.

    Noah was small and I made some adjustments which ended with my semi
hard cock between the cheeks of his ass. That's when I sensed some pulling
away. I thought I would loose the moment unless I put him in charge.

    I went down on my knees and turned him slightly into my face. The
silkiness of the spandex was very erotic. I nuzzled into his crotch,
kissing and pressing, rubbing with my cheeks and lips. He got incredibly
hard and I could tell I'd be able to fit him in my mouth and ass easily.
Maybe it was five inches, or a little over, and nicely thick. Despite his
disorganized home life he was clean and his smell reminded me of a puppy.

    The kid was watching in the mirror which is what I wanted. I wanted him
to see me down in front of him, submissive, appreciative, worshiping. Look
at me, big dude motorcycle guy, on my knees with a boy who could be my
son. I didn't need any dignity at this point. Noah, darling, you little
cub, you little boy-pussy, you can have my mouth whenever you want it. When
you're ready you can have my ass too! Step by step. Don't scare him!

    I felt him push forward at the hips. That's a good boy, that's it. Feed
it to me Noah. You're a natural. Now's the time to roll down those sexy
shorts and see that adolescent dick of yours. That dick that you caress
every night. That dick that won't leave you alone. That dick that gets hard
in geography class you don't know why. That dick that gets stiff every time
you ride your bike. It went into my mouth like it belonged there.

    He watched the mirror. Like what you see, Noah, what boy wouldn't? He
liked it even more with my hands on his ass, those firm round cheeks that
always fill out his jeans. I was able to press him into my mouth so that
that nice mauve head started to go down my throat. Smart boy, he learned
fast and started to fuck my face without any more urging from my hands. He
shivered and shuddered like a little colt.

    He squealed to warn me. And then he came.

     A quick little dude. No surprise. A flood of sweet cum. Fourteen
year-old thick white sperm, millions of tadpoles looking for a young girl's
egg. The taste was tangy, sort of sweet and spicy, like bacon? As I
swallowed it I thought, "Ah, Noah, someday you'll make beautiful babies
with this dick."

    I suggested we rest.

    He lay back on the bed, legs open, receptive. Very pleased with
himself. The slim shoulders rested against the headboard. His pretty hands
rested on his chest near his nipples as if to guard those dark and very
hard-pointy looking pubescent buds. His flat tummy looked so kissable and
dotted with an inny belly button that made the tip of my tongue tingle. A
little cloud of downy pubic hair lay behind a still very hard adolescent
cock all shiny and engorged. His skin all over was smooth, radiant and
blemish free. In short, Noah was a very special jewel and probably not very
aware how he aroused me, or anyone for that matter.

    Though I wanted to come I knew I had to go slowly. If I had to wait
until he left to take care of myself, so be it. We lay side by side for
awhile listening to the street sounds on that warm spring day.

    He offered no resistance when I began to pet him and made sounds of
appreciation and satisfaction. Propped up on my elbow I gazed over his body
and again told him he was beautiful, told him how proud his boner looked,
and he was pleased. He was ready for more judging by the look on his face.

    In a voice as seductive as I could manage I asked him to turn on his
side. I smelt his hair. Kissed his ears, nibbled on his shoulder, licked
his neck. He giggled and sniggered. I took little playful bites on his back
and ran my tongue down his spine. He knew where I was going because he
opened his legs a little--just a little, as if not sure he should be so
suggestive. This may have been his first time but he had educated
instincts...

    He squealed again when the tip of my tongue then my fingers traveled
the warm clef of his ass. That valley was very deep and made my cock
stiffen and tingle. If I can just get it in your ass little dude I'd be so
happy. I need relief. I need to forget about my bitch girl friend. I need
to forget about girls.

    He signaled permission by lifting his right leg and letting my middle
finger hit its mark. The contact made him shudder again.

    I warmed some gel on my middle finger and slipped it in, deep. He
gasped and I could feel his body surrender. Perhaps he was a virgin--I
didn't know--but I knew he'd be a deflowered boy when he left my bed. After
some slow and gentle finger fucking and without my asking he turned face
down on the bed, opened his legs and lifted his ass. Yeah baby Noah, you
are a beauty and you're making me so happy. Feel my dick up your ass when
you ride your new bike!

    It hurt a little at first and he grunted and sweated. On his own he
discovered how to squeeze and let go so I could penetrate him all the
way. Maybe this wasn't his first.

    Now that my cock was in him as far as it could go I stopped and savored
the moment. Here I am I thought, as heterosexual as the next man--so I
thought--with my cock buried in this young boy, and it felt so fuckin'
good! A whole range a complicated thoughts ran through my head. I felt as
though this kid was an extension of myself through my dick, that I was his
father, and his mother too--that I'd given birth to him! He was me and not
me. Weird!

    But I pushed such thoughts aside and concentrated on the grip his ass
had on my cock. Sweet Noah was moaning and sighing and making throaty
sounds of pleasure so I started to fuck him real good. He took
everything. He started to act like girls I'd fucked. He spread open wider,
arched his ass higher to take me more easily. My lips were near his ear and
I whispered words of love, told him what a hot and sexy piece of ass he
was, that his body was made to be fucked, that he was better than any girl
I'd boned. And lots more. He told me to cum. He spat the words out. No
longer the shy one, he insisted: "fuck my cunt!," and "shoot your cum!, put
cum in me!"

    And I did. A lot!

    My month-long fixation for his ass, that part of him, had now been
completely, beautifully satisfied. I grew soft very slowly and withdrew
from him a fraction of an inch at a time. When I was finally out I lay on
my back and let my vision go hazy. The strong sunlight beat against drawn
shades and flooded the room with brightness. I started to slip into the
most delicious post-orgasm doze. Then everything changed.

    I was yanked back into alertness by crying, and what I heard made a
chill run through me. I turned toward him and spoke his name, but no
answer. Then another sound, like a whimper or a sob. I leaned over and
gently tugged his shoulder so I could see his face. It was red and wet with
tears.

    "Noah what's the matter? What's wrong?"

    At that the flood gates opened. His slim body was racked with
convulsive gasps, and though he tried to smother them they grew stronger
and louder. Jesus, I was suddenly scared. This ain't what I expected. I
drew a blanket over us and cradled him with my body.

    "Noah... Did I hurt you?... Are you all right?" He didn't answer. I
looked to see if there was blood. No blood. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...if I
hurt you. I'm sorry if you really didn't want me to do it."

     In a very small voice he said "No. Its not that." More sobs. He would
say no more. He cried, his body shaken by some deep sad emotion that I
could not fathom.

    Gradually, very slowly, he calmed down. We dressed in silence and
didn't look at each other. I felt horrible. At the front door I noticed
he'd begun to cry again.

    A week later I saw him near the movie theater. He was with a girl from
the neighborhood his age. They turned to go in to see some violent piece of
cinematic shit and without her noticing, he stuck up his middle finger to
me. I think that's what I saw.

    Well, fuck you buddy. You're not the only boy with an hot ass. See if
she blows you as good as me. I made you squirm and whimper.  When your ass
itches for a nice warm cock, what will she do for you?

     Weeks went by and turned into months. He didn't come around again. I
missed him, his smile, his body, but finally knew he was never coming back.

    Time passed, a lot of time. The boy became a man.  And for me, I
discovered I liked boy pussy as much a girl pussy.

    We met on the street by chance. Six years had gone by. Noah seemed
somewhat glad to see me and I invited him to a drink at a neighborhood
bar. He was back from Iraq. We talked about that for an hour. Finally I had
to ask him what had been on my mind for six years. I asked about the
crying. It relived me to hear his answer and was what I suspected.

    "It didn't have anything to do with you... or the sex. Actually, I was
ok with that part--it was exciting. I was a kid. You were kind to me. I
really felt I had done something cool, grown up. I liked it. It wasn't
that. I was confused about other stuff."

    He said as he lay in the bed facing the wall a whole lot of buried
hurt--stuff that he hadn't even realized--began to well up in him. There
was a great deal of lingering pain deep down that overwhelmed him. Mostly,
it had to do with his father--the abandonment--being left alone in the
world. Scared and little. Living with a mother half out her mind, drunk,
uncaring, maybe even hating him. Noah was only nine when his father
abandoned the boy. Gone so suddenly. There was no explanation. No one said
anything. It was a trauma the child couldn't understand. He didn't say so
directly but I guessed from hints that his dad may have done some sexual
things with him. He blamed himself for his father's departure.

    "But you know," he said to me over a third comfortable beer, "what
happened was bad, the leaving was bad, and it hurt, but now I've seen far
worse; more shit than you could imagine over there. Kids... dead... without
arms, legs. Even mutilated" And he described some pretty horrible things
involving children. There was a long silence between us. With the dreadful
images he'd put burning in my mind I couldn't say anything.

    We got up to leave.

    "So next to that, my early life, before I met you, isn't so fucked up."

    I wondered what he would do after the Army.


I would appreciate hearing from you about this story. E-mail Julian at
ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com