Date: Sun, 29 Dec 2013 16:39:09 -0500
From: Jeff <jbbugz1@cogeco.ca>
Subject: I Spy

"I spy, with my little eye; something greyed and wrinkled.
Tim spoke, as Steve stood in curiosity but said nothing.
"I spy, with my little eye, something that is hidden." There was no
response. Tim waited for a reply but there was only silence except of
passing cars.
"I spy, with my little eye, dirty rugged curves."
His friend Steve couldn't take it anymore.
"What are you going on about?" He questioned with a raised brow. Tim was
now satisfied.
"It's a game of minimal risk and can be highly addictive," Tim added.
"Seriously, you need medication." A slight giggle escaped from Tim's lips.
"Do you see that guy standing over there by the other bus shelter
wearing a black and white stripped sweater?" Steve took a moment to look
in the direction that would appease his friend,
"Okay, what about him?"
"Don't you ever watch people? I mean, I stand at the bus stop and watch
guys walk by all the time and think of all their daily stories. For
example; That guy over there may look well-dressed and in control, but I
can tell you, him and his girlfriend had a falling out last night, and
although he may look fine, deep down, he's scared that he is not going
to get a piece of ass regularly, anymore."
"And you know this how?" Steve played along.
I have this gift of knowing people by imagining what stories are hidden
within the bulge in their pants. There's a lot to be said about how a
man shows off his manhood underneath his rugged khakis, dress pants or
denim."
Tim was mortified at the outcry of honesty, and it scared him.
"Oh my God. After all this time together, I find out the truth. You're a
psychic, and a pervert."
Tim held back his laughter and continued, "That explains the other night
at Greg's."
With Steve's wild eye's of uncontrollable laughter that couldn't
suppress any further, he waited for a rebuttal from Tim.
"No. It doesn't. That was a one-time experience. I'm trying to forget
about it." He tried to minimize his guilt by justifying.
"Seriously though, I would be careful; not everyone needs to know that
you are a slave to your sexual and psychic addiction." With only seconds
of silence, he vocalized his words to anyone who would listen,
"Tim's a pervert."
Neighboring eyes looked at the two of them waiting in line for the bus
to pull up to the stop. Steve poked him on the arm, laughing all the
while, pushing. He walked toward the back, but held his distance in the
middle as he watched Steve continue to walk pass him towards the back to
sit down. He acknowledged him while dismissing the invitation to sit
with him; he took the moment to himself. Tim wasn't surprised that the
bus was busy at this time of day, and he knew sooner or later someone
would have to get up from their seat. He decided to stand a while
holding onto the bright yellow pole scoping out all the passengers
seated in perfect rows now. To pass the time, he figured that he would
play a game of elimination. It was a game that was played many times
over and had different outcomes each time. Today he felt a bit
destructive in nature, so he let his imagination take over. The bus
closed its doors and started to move from the platform.
The game was now on.
On the verge of his imagination, he figured that there was going to be a
horrific accident, leaving only a few survivors. The scene on his mind
played out. If the bus crashed, it would leave everyone dead, except ten
male survivors. The fun of elimination game was to decide who would be
the one sole survivor whom he would like to sleep with? Firstly, he
would have to validate all ten survivors by their masculine figures, and
before eliminating one by one, he had to decipher which ones he thought
were gay and which of them were straight. Of course gay men would be
much easier to fulfill sexual desires, but the challenge of a straight
man would be an exceptional high. His mood played the erotic of
affection, today, rather than the sexual deed itself.
Three men were eliminated right from the start. They stood at the front
of the bus in a group and shadowed the look of three bulky truck
drivers. There was no questioning that they were all straight. He could
envision them leaving the bus to meet up with their other beefy
beer-drinking buddies to watch the NFL game on the big screen in some
dirty low down bar.
The count was down to seven very quickly. Two others were eliminated
instantly because they had beards that were left to the wilds and not
groomed.
The count was down to five.
The game was on and was getting more difficult with the choices he had
to make. Two guys were university students who sat next to one another;
all dressed up in their designer clothes. Before reckoning a decision,
Tim relished the sexual concourse of the two of them experimenting with
each other in their dorm room. Although it was sexually appealing, it
was also the inexperience of love, lust and passion that lost the vote.
He marveled in the sexual intimacy of the dream, but ultimately, it left
the countdown to three. He moved on to the others while keeping their
fresh figures in his mind. It wasn't long before Tim's eyes bore a stare
at man in his early forty's sitting beside a Vietnamese woman holding
two shopping bags between her legs. The man had his faced turned toward
the window, and all Tim could see was his perfectly groomed dark-brown
hair that kept a wave of bangs to one side. Eyes roamed further down to
a navy blue T-shirt that read `Randle's Quest Mechanics.'. It held his
perfectly muscular frame inside. His eyes continued to sight his crotch
area, and within his button fly dark denim, a mound of fabric indicated
nothing short of worship. He wondered for a moment, if he was straight,
but to be honest, it really didn't matter because of the tingling in his
groin, he was experiencing. An inside grin sparked an alert because he
couldn't believe that the game of elimination was actually making his
manhood rise. It was supposed to be a game of innocent make-believe and
not sexual fulfillment. His eyes continued to devour every pixel and
while his eyes never averted the smooth mound of denim, someone had
accidentally nudged him forward caused by the sway of the bus. He heard
a soft gentlemanly, "sorry." With disregards to the person's clumsiness,
Tim didn't look around; He only smiled in courtesy. Never averting his
attention from the game, he continued to stare at the manly figure
sitting in just below him. Tim had to move his gaze onto other things
because with the constant stare of curiosity, his cock was beginning to
show the shape through his jeans. With a billboard sign that read `Child
Pornography Abuse' just above his head, it did not lessen the
stimulation he was hoping for. Thankfully, the bus came to a complete
stop, and his Mr. Mechanic turned his face away from the window to look
forward, and with a shocking surprise, a sigh escaped Tim's mouth. The
man's flow of wavy hair, and perfectly erotic frame, turned out to be
only a disguise of a God-like statuette. His facial features were quite
shocking in respects to the pale blue eyes that were almost closed from
what seemed like too many drugs and the lack of sleep. The upper lip
shadowed a forest of hairs that grew out from his shiny nose. He knew he
was over exaggerating, but defined his Mr. Mechanic, now, unappealing.
It took every effort not to suggest a facial cream for oily skin, or
directions to the corner discount store to purchase a nose hair trimmer.
The game was still on, and the countdown back at three.
The bus turned the corner and was coming to a complete stop when Mr.
Mechanic stood up from his seat and walked toward the exit door, taking
the Vietnamese woman with him. Tim did not hesitate to move into the
vacant spot before fresh arrivals took over, giving him a brand new
comfortable perspective of his surroundings. He still had to locate a
winner. Within seconds, an almost full-frontal view of two possible
contestants was sitting next to one another in the courtesy handicap
seats ahead of him. Beneath their feet were RW and Monaco's bags, and
one of the guys with blonde hair pulled out a watch and was trying to
remove it from its casing. His more dominated passenger took it from his
and helped his friend put it on his wrist. When they looked at one
another, there was an instant fairy dust glittering all around them. It
did not take an education or further deduction to answer the question,
if they were queer. It was obvious the two young freshly queers were
hungry for one another. It was kind of gross, yet proudly satisfying.
Because of the once upon a time and happily ever after a fairy tale of
gayness, it was conclusive that they were eliminated from the game.
The game was down to one.
While standing and holding onto the rails only moments ago, a gentleman
took the seat next to Tim. Politely, Tim moved his body frame over to
allow the man the comfort within his own space. He had always
appreciated boundary's.
They both smiled. It was tenderly shocking when the man sat down that
his right leg presumably and possibly, accidentally brushed against his
own. The warmth and bold touch that connected them sent erogenous
impulses to places that were inappropriate in pubic. Still, Tim did not
mind. At least, this time he was sitting.
He instinctively tried to move his head to the left in order to catch a
glance of the stranger beside him, but without becoming obvious. Tim was
afraid that any sudden movements or invasion might result in the man
reacting out of discomfort and removing his leg from his, so he opted to
stay focused straight ahead. It didn't matter if the stranger was
intentionally flirting or utterly rude and disrespectful; he was
enjoying the sensation of his touch too much.
Explicit sexual fantasies culminated around in his head against the heat
from this stranger's leg as it continued to press firmly against his.
Should he move his leg out of respect? Maybe it was his own fault, and
the guy felt uncomfortable. Was this stranger thinking the same thing as
him? Was there a dirty secret of seduction at play between them? It was
weird that Tim asked these questions to himself because, for starters,
he hadn't ever seen what the guy looked like. He had to know. All that
Tim knew was; in the moment, his cock grew to full hardness. If it took
only a touch from this stranger's leg, then he must be validated as the
winner.
With all the distractions playing crazy in his head, he had wondered,
only for a moment, if Steve was watching him. Could he see what was
happening from behind?
In a deep baritone voice that plunged Tim into a state of panic, the
words "Sorry" escaped from Mr. Perfect's mouth again, as his hand
accidentally brushed against his while searching for an item in his
pocket. It took every effort for Tim not to grab hold of the man's hand
and place it on his rock-hard crotch. It was shameful that he could even
be that horny. Releasing a load inside of his denim, would have taken no
effort at all; especially if this rugged stranger touched him one more
time. With slight hesitation, yet amplified curiosity, he finally had
the chance to look into the man's eyes. He pretended to scope the area
as if looking for some landmark and when he met with his face, a story
unfolded that could only be described as forbidden. Short dark-brown
hair and moustache showed elegance in care, and skin as smooth freshly
woven silk that encased deep hypnotizing blue eyes, would dance in his
mind forever. As if there were nothing else humanly possible to add to
this perfection; his body frame of maturity ruled him as the dominate.
Adding to his manly physic, carefully trimmed eyebrows scored a mask of
intelligence and sophistication that conceals the innocence of his
wanting erotic desires. Was this person even real? As Tim's heart raced
within his chest, desperately he hoped that his guilty desires were not
only his. However lustful, he could not bring himself to advance; he
merely nodded the in the acceptance of touch and waited the journey to
carry them on to the next bus stop. Tim slowly led his arm to his side
and nervously ran his hand down his own leg to symbolize the act of
erotic touch. He thought that if Mr. Perfect was at all serious, then he
would pick up on the gesture and maybe, just maybe, volunteer his intent.
When the bus came to a complete stop once again, Tim knew it was over.
The next stop was his and there was no way that he could miss it. Steve
would be furious. He was already disappointed that he hadn't joined him
at the back of the bus, but knew, that he would be forgiven once he told
the strangely erotic tale of Mr.Perfect. With a surprisingly end to his
tale, Tim watched his lustful friend from strained eyes, placing his
hand on his own crotch and giving himself a small squeeze. It was casual
enough to go un-noticed, but with watchful eyes, it was a revelation of
intent. Instant rockets blared overhead as Tim's cock throbbed inside
his jeans and the only thing that he could do was to smile.
"Excuse me, this is my stop." Mr. Perfect spoke.

"Seriously, that's okay. Talk about bumping into each other?" Tim was
disheartened and embarrassed by the lame comment, but knew he couldn't
do anything about that now.
"We have to stop meeting like this." The stranger smiled to Tim's surprise.
"I could meet you a thousand times and would enjoy it every-time." As if
that wasn't subtle, he thought?
As the doors opened and everyone stepped forwards off the bus, Mr.
Perfect moved away from the exit and stood in hopes that Tim would too.
 From a shock-wave of desire, he did just that; Tim wasn't about to let
this moment go by. He reached into his wallet to remove a card.
Feeling weak in the knees from his obvious intent, Tim couldn't stop
himself from shaking.
"I don't have a pen. However, this is my work number. Maybe we can go
out sometime?" Steve walked straight pass them, rolling his eyes in
disbelief.
"Sure that would be great. My name is Roger.
"Tim, we need to get going. Greg is meeting us at four o'clock. We are
going to be late if we don't get a move on."
"Sorry. This is Steve, my annoying friend" Tim introduced, with only a
nod of recognition, and continued, "We really have to go. Call my work
and we can set up a time to meet." Tim's eyes instinctively gazed upon
Roger's bulge. It was an image he wanted to stay in his mind, until they
meet again.
"I would like that." Roger announced.
Barely back from cloud nine, Tim walked down the street to catch a
connecting bus that would take them to Greg's. It didn't take long
before Steve begged for all the dirty details, and before he could
reminisce the seduction, Tim returned his gaze once again, watching the
perfect man walk away.