MORNING RIDE
By John Candu

I'm thankful for the ride.  You've saved me a three-mile walk.  It's a 
sweltering August and you said we'd beat the oppressive heat and 
humidity by switching color guard practice to early morning.  

I'm wearing yellow jogging shorts with no underwear and a muscle shirt.  
The thought that I might sprout a boner in the shorts never crossed my 
mind.  

I feel privileged to hop a ride with the assistant band director  -- and 
in a sports convertible no less.  As we pull away from the curb, you 
smoothly work through the gears, finally letting the back of your hand 
rest against my left knee as you hold on to the stick shift.  You crank 
up of the volume of your stereo and then I feel your hand rest atop my 
brown thigh.

There's not much room in your Triumph, so I think nothing of the 
touching until your hand gently massages my leg with your fingers 
trailing upward toward my crotch.  I feel my cock come to life.  I also 
begin to panic, fearing that you'll see my erection.  I hope I don't 
have the wrong idea -- your hand feels good.

You smile at me, holding eye contact as you move your hand up and down 
my leg.  You begin to bop the steering wheel in time to the music and 
drum your fingers to the melody on my thigh.  I drum the console as I 
get into the sound.  You ask if I want something cold to drink as we 
pull into a McDonald's.  Sure, I say.  

You give our order at the drive-thru speaker and pull behind a long line 
of cars.  Your hand returns to the stick shift, then to my knee.

You're saying something about how well-chiseled my body is from working 
out.  But I can't pay attention to what you're saying with your fingers 
tickling my balls.  My cock leaps from the leghole of my shorts -- right 
into your hand.  There are only two cars ahead of us.

Your hand makes a fist around my shaft.  You begin jacking me, and I'm 
helpless to stop you.  I moan and arch my butt toward you.  I become 
your slut.  I begin to hunch my young hips to the rhythm of your 
cock-stroking hand.  Your thumb rolls across my pee slit, smearing 
precum around and around.  I'm breathing faster and you're jacking 
harder.  I feel my cock getting harder.

Now we're only one car away from the window, and the attendant is 
handing a bag to the driver.  She could merely gaze down and see you 
beating my meat. You jack my meat faster, harder, and my precum is 
flowing heavily.  I'm on the verge of panicking at the thought of being 
caught -- but exhilarated as I approach orgasm.  I am your willing 
prisoner.  Anything goes.

The car ahead of us pulls away and you ease toward the window. I spurt 
ropes of cum onto your console.  Globs of white spunk hit the stereo 
knobs and leather dash.  Five times I spurt.  The last eruption coats 
the stick shift.  Your fist is coated with my thick white cream.  You 
slow the car at the window as I slide my cock back into my shorts.  I've 
left a trail of cum drops on my brown thigh and the front of my shorts.  
The drops will stain when they dry, and I wonder if the other kids will 
know...  I sink deeply into the seat, panting.  You pay for the drinks 
and slide an icy pop between my legs.  I pick it up and suck the straw 
greedily.

You don't even wipe the cum from the stick shift.  You grab it, 
spreading spunk with your palm, and run through the gears as we pull 
away.  I notice your tent, and I grab your shaft through your poplin 
trousers.  I see myself doing this as if I'm dreaming.  Surely that is 
not my hand holding your dick.  You moan softly and smile at me.  I 
place the drink in a holder and unzip your fly.  Your cock springs out.  
Like me, you're not wearing briefs.

Your dick is a lot bigger than mine.  You're at least eight inches and 
fat.  I lean down and take your cockmeat into my mouth, tasting a man 
for the first time.  You put your right hand over my head as I pump my 
mouth up and down on your man-meat.  I lick at your slit and taste your 
precum and run my tongue back and forth beneath your head.

You tool along slowly in third gear as I cram as much of your meat as 
possible down my throat.  I gag and pull back, but your encourage me to 
go on, and I suck harder and begin jacking you with my hand.  I feel you 
thrusting upward now, and your precum tastes so good.  I am so horny and 
I am hard again.  

You continue the gentle pressure against the back of my head, and I 
fight for breath as I swallow you down my throat.  I hold you there a 
second, my nose buried in your pubes, then pull back and gasp.  My head 
bobs up and down.  You cock goes in and out.  Faster. My saliva is 
making your cock dripping wet.  I beat your meat faster as I tongue your 
head.  I feel your cockhead flair and then you flood my mouth with 
cream.  I drink it down, gulp after gulp of your thick cum.  I feel your 
car make a right turn and hear the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.  
I lick the last drops from your cock and wipe the excess from around my 
mouth with a napkin.

I sit up in the nick of time as we pull alongside another car  near a 
crowd of my classmates gathering for practice.  You zip your fly and 
smile.  As my taste buds savor the last of your cum, I look forward to 
the ride home.

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