Date: Sat, 30 Apr 2011 15:26:29 -0700
From: webbrohmer@hotmail.com
Subject: The Adventures of Pete Pants Part 3: Five-Star Fuck

Bicycling is great. I wouldn't stop it for anything. The problem is that
when something goes wrong, it REALLY goes wrong and there's no car to sit
in and wait for help.

So when my chain broke, flipped and wrapped around a spoke, I was not
happy. I was even less happy when I had to get my hands greasy. Now I don't
mind greasy and dirty hands but not on my way to work. All I could do was
to rinse them off with my water bottle and dry them on my bandana.

Next problem: what to do with that wet messy bandana. I decided to stuff it
into a rear pouch in my jersey. Of course, it was yellow, my favorite
color, so I'd be advertising that fact to any knowledgeable person passing
but I had no other place to stash it without getting other things gunked
up.

The frustrating part of this incident was that I'd passed a bike shop half
a mile back. Like all the other bike shops, it didn't open until
mid-morning. Those of us who ride to work at a considerably earlier hour
are considerably screwed. I had to walk the bike to work, hoping a brisk
pace would burn off my irritation.

Several friendly cyclists slowed as they passed but they couldn't help me
so they rode on. One fellow stopped-a nice-looking burly sort-to ask where
I was going. I told him and he told me about a bike shop a block from my
destination. It wasn't open yet (no shit) but would open at ten (Duh!
Really?). I smiled and thanked him with a handshake-which lingered a second
longer than usual; a smile wider than usual from him and a direct look into
my eyes.

He appeared a bit older than I, rocking a reddish-brown beard flecked with
grey and looked damned sexy. His tight biking shorts displayed a thick lump
between his legs. In other words, he was a hot man and I got the feeling
his friendliness was more than altruism. As he rode off, I found myself
jealous of his bicycle seat. My cock stiffened down my leg and I promised
myself a slow, magnificent beat off in his honor, following a prolonged
(but imaginary) piss-soaking session together.

By the time I reached the office, my lump had softened as had my mood. My
only worry was whether this shop could fix the bike by the end of the day.

Since I free-lance, working on contract there, I don't get benefits or paid
time off. If I wanted to get paid for a full day's work, I'd have to work a
full eight hours. By the time I'd washed up and changed, I was behind
almost an hour and I had a lot of material to work through. That would keep
me here at least until 6:00 pm.

By the time 10:00 am arrived, I was well into my work and I'd forgotten all
about the bike until after 11:00. I still needed my 15 minute break so I
grabbed the bike and walked it to the elevator.

The bike shop indeed sat a short block from where I worked but off my
route. No surprise, then, that I didn't know about it. As I walked into the
shop-PEDAL PUSHERS-I saw two good-looking guys working there. One stood
behind the cash register and another was talking to a customer. A third, a
cute scruffy-bearded cub in biking shorts, approached.

When I told him why I was here, he nodded. "Dan said you might be in," and
pointed me to the back, the service department.

By the time I got there I'd put two and two together. Of course Dan was the
burly biking hunk who'd stopped that morning. Even though we hadn't
exchanged names he must have told ScruffMuffin that some shithead mangled
his chain and would be in some time during the day. I didn't need gaydar to
tell me the other fact I wanted to know: no straight man would name a bike
shop "PEDAL PUSHERS." The name was so catchy and campy that no gay man, no
matter how butch, could pass it up.

If Dan had called me a shithead he didn't act like it. He seemed pleased to
see me. What surprised me was how good-looking he was even out of his
biking togs. Instead of jeans and a shirt, he wore light cotton khaki
coveralls. Although a zipper ran all the way down to his amusement park, he
kept it unzipped an inch or two below his clavicle, just enough for me to
see hair poking up. I'd already worked myself up over his beard and now he
teased me with even more aesthetic and tactile delights. My curiosity was
also piqued to see what he wore underneath, but the clothing was loose
enough that I couldn't tell.

He knelt to examine the damaged bike. "Chain's definitely toast. That's
what broke, wrapping around a gear and a spoke. See?" He pointed as I
squatted beside him. He smelled of sweat and bicycle oil but I was more
interested in getting close than seeing what had happened to my bike; I
already knew that.

"Looks like it bent a spoke; fan belts on cars'll do the same thing. If
they break, they'll flap and can cause a lot of engine damage."

I nodded.

"New chain, truing the spokes, checking the gears; not too bad. I've seen
chains break that'll stop bikes dead, sending their riders tumbling."

At this point, I didn't care how much it cost. I just wanted my bike to get
me home tonight.

"We close at seven but it'll be this afternoon before I can get to it. I'm
kinda busy today."

Since I was late to work I could keep myself busy until then. "That's fine;
I'm glad you can do this. And that you're close."

He smiled and unzipped to scratch his hairy torso. Or was he teasing? The
zipper opened further down than necessary for an upper chest scratch so I
looked to see how far down I could see. Not far enough, dammit.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself back into the present. "I try to check the
chain regularly and...."

"Sure. Chains get looser as they get used, but it still takes experience to
actually know how much is too much." He touched my shoulder as he
stood. Quickly, I followed suit, afraid I'd pop a boner if I didn't move.

Dan walked me back to the front of the store, a hand resting gently on my
back. I didn't complain and had no intention of moving it either. "Just get
here by seven. If you can't make it, call me ASAP. I might be able to wait
for you."

By now, Cute ScruffMuffin was behind the cash register, waiting. "Shane,
give Pete here my card.  Remember, Pete, call me if you have to. I want to
take care of you, just right."

We shook hands, his firm grasp lingering, his gaze holding until he broke
off and turned away. I could have sworn I saw a lump form down his leg. As
I turned to take a card from Shane I found myself trembling and my own hose
hardened. As I walked out I read his card: DAN MARSHALL, OWNER. It was
going to be a long afternoon, especially if my dick wouldn't go down.

It didn't want to, either, since I couldn't stop thinking about Dan and
Shane. The set-up was perfect:

(Right after the shop closes, Dan takes Shane back into the service
center. He slides out of his coveralls, his massive meat swollen and
throbbing. Shane pulls down his shorts and his own tool springs free. Dan
bends the boi over the counter and, his cock dripping now, probes, pushes,
then mounts him, doggy-style. Shane grunts and Dan grabs a handful of the
boi's hair as he drives to his destination. Accelerating, his animal grunts
increase to a growl and Shane's whimpers become moans. Dan erupts,
roaring. Shane, smashed against the countertop, thrashes until he blows his
own load, screaming and smearing his spooj. Dan leans forward, pressing
himself even tighter, releasing his long-pent piss up the boi's ass. Shane
clenches his cheeks tight and, good boi he is, holds still until Daddy's
done. Once Dan is empty, Shane pulls up his shorts. After an embrace and a
kiss, ScruffMuffin rides home, unloading BossDaddy's cum and pissloads into
his shorts.)

Chris kept noticing my distraction and my bulge until he asked what was
going on. The situation was embarrassing because Chris, a graphic designer,
worked here and had recommended me for this gig. Besides being a friend, I
owed him this. He was also a piss buddy (funny how I find so many of them),
so I quietly but quickly filled him in on what was happening.

He laughed at my story. "Geez, Pete; I thought you were worried about
something insignificant; you know-global warming."

"Oh shut up."

"Seriously, guy; focus, focus. You'll have a chance to act that out later,
with you in the middle, of course, and then drench yourself on your ride
home, if you still have the stamina."

Of course, Chris was right, and even talking about it got some pressure off
me. I mouthed a quiet "fuck you" and went to work. The only trouble came
whenever I had to pee. Standing at the urinal, dick out, I kept thinking
about how I'd much prefer peeing inside a certain set of coveralls rather
than waste it down the urinal. Every time I finished, I had to stuff my
partially hard shaft back into my pants.

Despite my diligence, I was well aware that I'd have to work late to meet
the deadline anyway. Chris lingered before leaving, torn between jealousy
and curiosity. As I shooed him away, I stiffened inside my pantleg. I would
have released a trickle right then but decided that really wouldn't be a
good idea.

The final hour and a half flew past, fortunately, and I also kept up my
water intake. You never know when you might need to pee.

By the time I needed to get out or else, I'd caught up on my workload. I
forced myself to eat my dinner-a deli sandwich-slowly, then changed into my
biking togs.

Bike shorts, of course, are made of Spandex and are skin-tight for some
very good reasons. My favorite reason is because they display a man's
junk-especially if he's big and horny. The closer I walked to PEDAL PUSHERS
the harder I got until I didn't think even the Spandex would keep it
down. I definitely didn't know how I kept from shooting down my leg. Dan
had better be worth this-if not in reality at least in my fantasies.

My timing was perfect. Shane was behind the counter again, waiting on two
people. He looked up as I entered and nodded, before executing a perfect
double-take as I walked past, obviously catching sight of granite groin
here. My erection was so obvious my shorts seemed unnecessary.

Dan was puttering around the service counter, unzipped halfway down his
chest. Both his face and torso smiled as I approached. "Pete! Scattone 330
roadbike. Just getting ready to call you."

I looked around the bikes and bike parts but didn't see it anywhere.

He stabbed his thumb toward a back room. "Back there. Didn't have a lot of
room out front. Leave your gear here."

I dropped my panniers behind the counter and followed. The air was stuffy,
smelling of rubber, clean metal, hair and sweat. My already hard tool
drooled and I trembled.

"Good as new. Lemme show you the chain." As we knelt beside the bike I
realized Dan had unzipped even more, down to that place where his mat of
curly body hair meshed with his tangle of pubic hair. No underwear in sight
but a lump extended down a pant leg, bigger than mine. He pulled a
handkerchief-a yellow one, just like mine-out of a pocket, using it to
gently lift the chain. "See? Not a lot of play now; normal gap between
links. If you get more than half an inch it needs replacing; much like a
fan belt in a car."

Defensiveness flared up in me. "I told you; I checked."

He placed a reassuring hand on my leg-right on the wet spot from my leaking
hose. "Oh, I'm sure you did; but not everyone realizes how little slack
that is."

His hand on my thigh didn't move but his other one must have because his
cockhead now peeked out the of the zipper. I forced my eyes away from his
winking sausage long enough to look into his hazel eyes. He was smiling. "I
understand," I said, breaking into a sweat now.

"You warm? Gets a bit stuffy back here."

I nodded, pretty sure I knew where this bus was going and willing to get
aboard.

"Store's closed now. Strip."

That was all it took; I unzipped my jersey and pulled it off.

"Only thing I need to do is take a piss; haven't had one for a while, stuck
behind the service counter and working on bikes."

I was on the verge of pulling off my shorts but stopped and scooted close;
the smell of his sweat made my head swim. "I'd prefer you leave one."

A half-smile curved his lips and an eyebrow cocked. I pulled out the front
of my shorts as my face burned. Dan peered into the opening and
smiled. "Looks promising; certainly big enough. Got just the place."

He stood and grasped my arm, helping me to stand. His other hand unzipped
his coveralls all the way to his groin. His meat fell out and waved at
me. "Love it this way; as close to naked as I can get sometimes."

"Bet Shane loves it."

Dan laughed. "Law says no; fantasy say differently." He pushed open a door
and flipped on a switch. He'd brought me to a small lavatory-toilet and
sink with mirror, ventilating fan, a drain in the middle of the floor and a
mop and bucket in the corner. I was surprised to see the room so clean.

"Sit." He pointed to the toilet. I squatted over it and pulled open my
shorts.

"Wait." He grabbed my armpits and pulled me up. "Stand up."

Dan peeled down my shorts to check out my own tool. He growled in
satisfaction, one hand clutching the pole and the other gently cupping the
balls.

"Hefty. Nice weight. No manscaping. Good, good." His hands slid up my
torso. "Nice bod; hairy." His eyes stopped at my face.  "Great beard; first
thing I noticed about you." I actually blushed.

"Okay. Turn around. Let's see that biker butt."

I rotated around the toilet until I faced the wall. I felt a friendly swat
on my ass, followed by strong fingers kneading my cheeks. Dan murmured
appreciative sounds.

A finger poked my hole. "Now spread 'em."

Before I could open my hole as far as it could a fat finger squirmed its
way in. I grunted before relaxing.

"Nice and tight." His other hand kept stroking my cheeks. "Not much gets up
your plumbing."

"I'm actually a top...." I started to say, but was stopped by a stinging
slap across my ass.

"Usually a top," he growled in his smoked whiskey voice, "but I think
you'll bottom for the right dick. And there's nothing better than riding a
tight biking butt. Now swing that schlong around here. I've gotta piss
realllll bad."

My dick was more than happy to comply; much to my surprise, so was the rest
of me. Dan was every inch a man, and I was quite willing to bottom for him
to get what I wanted. I pulled my shorts back up and squatted again.

"Ahhh." With that sigh, Dan unleashed a spray of hot piss. Its force pushed
me against the tank and I barely had time to pull my shorts open. Piss
gurgled as it filled the lycras. He aimed his stream across my chest then
up to my face. The piss was bitter and strong from several hours of
storage.

Dan cut off his stream and I rubbed his smell all over me. He watched,
grinning. "Okay, over the toilet."

I lowered the lid and kneeled, supported by my elbows.

Something warm and wet tickled my rectum, then probed deeper. I gasped,
certain a good fucking was coming. Instead a tongue lapped at me. I
grunted, stuck my butt out and pushed my asshole. That got a return grunt.

Dan lapped away until a wet finger slid in, then two...three. He waggled
and flexed them inside me. Between my groans and moans, I relaxed my
sphincter more and more.

He withdrew suddenly and I sighed as tension flowed away. From behind, I
heard a familiar crinkle. "You've got a two-star ass," he rasped. "I'm
ready to try for three." Dan poked and I managed to open even more. He
grasped my hips and, growling, pushed in.

Fire and pain and pleasure seared me and I both fought him and welcomed
him. Then he was in, deep, filling me in that most intimate act between two
men.

Dan clenched me to him for a moment. "You're up to four stars, stud." Then
he began his pounding drive, slapping my ass with his balls, pushing my
face into the wall. "Ready?"

I groaned an assent, not sure of what he was referring to but ready for
anything.

Still clutching my hips, he pulled me off the toilet. "On the floor; on
your back."

Within seconds, he stripped, spread me like a wishbone and slid up my
chute.

I stretched out to enjoy the view. He'd shucked his coveralls like a second
skin and they hung about his ankles. Sweat dripped off both of us while he
pounded away inside me. My legs wrapped around his hips and he stretched
across me, pinning my arms to the floor. Unable to stroke myself off, I did
the only other thing I could do to enhance the experience: I relaxed my
other sphincter. Within seconds piss shot across my belly, drenching both
of us.

"Goddamn! Five-star fuck!" he roared and popped out of my ass. He tossed
his rubber, grabbed his slab of meat and pounded away on it. Not to be
outdone, I grabbed my own and we beat off together.

He leaned back and roared as he erupted all over me, I arched my back and
gallons of my own man juice spewed across my torso, joining the piss and
sweat. I screamed myself hoarse as my cock spasmed itself dry. Dan
collapsed on top of me, panting and sweaty, squirming across me and
smearing our loads together. Finally he grasped my head and pulled me to
him, beard to beard-a favorite position for us lovers of facial hair. I
clung tightly, stroking the sweaty hair on his back.

After far too few minutes of this, I reluctantly separated. "Gotta clean
up; got anything to rinse me off with?"

Dan pulled back and looked at me as if I'd just undergone a sex
change. "This is a washroom."

"I know. But it's a fucking shame to waste any piss, and you gotta keep the
customers satisfied."

"Duh." He climbed to his feet. "Goddamn, Pete. Sure like the way you
think."

I rearranged myself into a sitting position while Dan aimed his still-hard
hose. As the first splash hit, I cupped my hands and rubbed it all over my
body, rinsing off the stickiness.

While pissing, Dan chatted away as casually as if he were at a urinal. "Saw
your hankie in your jersey; when I had your bike on the stand I thought I
smelled piss on your bike seat. I put two and two together."

"And got five," I chirped.

His grin stretched into a leer.

I stood as his piss dried, cool in the stuffy room. "My turn. Wanna get
your zipper wet?"

Dan tugged himself back into his coveralls, leaving them totally
unzipped. As I stepped close he gripped my asscheeks, pulling me
tight. When I let loose inside his suit, I inhaled as much of his scent as
I could. He sighed, kissing and licking my ear. My piss poured out for at
least a minute, darkening the whole front of his clothing and spilling out
the cuffs. Its tangy smell filled the room.

Finally drained, I kissed him, our tongues probing each others' throats.

When I came up for air, ugly reality set in. "Really gotta go; starting to
get dark and I don't have much light on my bike yet. I've got a half-hour
ride ahead."

"Jesus, I'm sorry." He broke away quickly.

"I've enjoyed myself too much also; don't feel bad." Here I stopped, unsure
of how to proceed. We had, indeed, had a great time together but in the
heat of our lust, I'd overlooked something. "Ummm....how much do I owe you
for the bike?"

"Oh, fuck." He drummed his fingers on his leg for a moment, then
shrugged. "What the hell, Pete. I OWN this fucking place. I can make my own
rules. I can run your card even if we're closed."

"OK."

I started to dress but Dan stopped me. "You're gonna walk out naked. You
look real good like that."

My dick stiffened as my bike and I followed an equally naked Dan and his
thick, waving meat to the front of the store. The blind on the door was
down and the front quarter of the counter wasn't visible from the
window. After Dan rang me out, he wanted a final favor and I was all to
willing to slurp off his big tool behind the counter. He abused his nipples
while I worked away Down Below. Suddenly he gasped, tensed, and grabbed my
head, pushing my face down to his root. I gagged but he pumped into my
mouth, spilling down my chin while he yelped and growled.

Now finally spent, he sank to his knees and licked his cum off my beard and
chest.

"Great customer service," I murmured.

"Helps to have great customers."

Dan, casually naked, watched me while I dressed. Still naked, he unlocked
the door to let me out.

I waved good-bye to the bearded, burly masculinity. Dusk was settling, but
I should still have enough light to get safely home. On my way, I made sure
to wet myself as often as I could, thinking of Dan's dong.

I don't know how I do it, but riding my bike brings me all kinds of good
luck-even when I'm unlucky.