Rest Stop

Two young men, yet this is no more or less than the old story of human love and encounter, only different due to the explosive nature of male passion. Love 'em and leave 'em could be the theme for this adventure, but did the heroes know it was going to hurt so very much? Years later, they meet. They do not recognize each other for the changes time has brought, but they are still strongly attracted to each other, and spend half of an evening in pleasant conversation. In the end, they separate, each going home to his own family, never to know that the hot stranger they met long ago was he. But now.....the memories..... I am hot and tired, I have ridden more than 300 miles What is that? 500 kilometers? but I am bone weary and ready for a break. It is cool today, early fall and the colours are wonderful, I have a new bike and its performance is still surprising me. I wiggle in the new leathers I have bought in the south, the leather capital of the world, I remember, laughing, and a good price. I look like a real bikerdude now. The pants have begun to conform to my body, and now feel like a second skin. I have perversely not worn any underwear. The sexy new smell and the cool day, I am treating myself to the sensual.. Each move to shift or break caresses my penis and reminds me of how long it has been since I have had any sex. I enjoy the randy feeling, I feel powerful, and tough. I try to relax, knowing I look an imposing figure. Two wide turns bring me down into a little valley. The bike roars out a throaty cough of power as I downshift. I can see a roadside rest stop ahead. I remember a rest stop two summers ago. I have been wishing to find another experience like that one. My cock hardens some at the memory. I pull into the side off, slip of the bike, leaving pack and all go strait into the small toilet. There isn't any one there, it is clean, and there is no hole between the stalls. I relieve myself of 100 miles of piss stretching and yawning as I let the stream find its own way to the urinal.. I pull off the coat and vest and getting my pack, wash the road grit from my face and chest. The water is cold and it feels good. I soak my hair, shaking the water with vigor from my head. There is a mirror, of sorts, and I examine my reflection, hair a bit too long, but curly and black, even wet it is full and manly. I need to shave, but the dark shadow is masculine and attractive, but even so, my razor is dull from packing it up wet, and without hot water, there is little hope of scraping clean the dark stubble. Eyes dark green and thick lashes, Momma's always going on about my long lashes, if a girl had those she would exclaim with pride. I suppose they do make me look even more Italian and sexual. My teeth are very white and strong and straight. Nothing looks better on a man than a clean smile. This bit of advice from Dad. That and don't leave cum stains in the bed to embarrass your mother are the closest to advice on sex he had ever given me. I consider pulling on some underwear to keep my new leathers clean, but decide to wait, the warm leather on my cock is so nice, I will chance some sweat.. I go out into the fall sunshine and stretch out on the grass next to my bike. It is perfect and I begin to drowse in the warm sun. I consider taking off my coat for a pillow, but am too lazy to move. I feel horny and push at my cock through my pants. I work it up to the top of my thigh so there is room to get hard and drift into vague memories of sex. I am nearly asleep when the sound of a motorcar stopping and reversing bring me back. The car pulls in, parks and a young man gets out. I can see him without moving through nearly closed eyes. I raise my hand in a friendly salute; he returns it with a smile. He is very handsome, but seems nervous. He is about my same size and has a beautiful build; for a moment I regret again I never had a brother. This man is enough like me to have been a brother. I drowse off again as he heads to the toilet. Something wakes me, and as I slowly open my eyes, I can see the stranger sitting rather too close and he is looking at an area that can only be my new leathers. I open my eyes and smile at him. I have no intention of approaching him. I may have mistaken his glance, and in any case, I am getting hard and don't want him to see my response and offend him. I am in no mood for an altercation. I casually get up and pulling my pack from the bike walk out through a hedge to a quiet private area with dry soft grass. I toss the pack, and turn, the man is 3 yards behind me and is looking directly into my eyes. I know that this is not a mistake. I sit on the grass and watch him approach. He pulls off a light jacket and drops it as he comes closer. I lie back in the grass and close my eyes. I am unable to do anything, and my cock is now so hard I am trembling. I can hear and feel him sitting next to me. He touches me, not on the leg or penis, but more intimately, on my cheek and trails his fingers down to my throat, feeling my pulse, brushing my skin lightly. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. I want to leap up and tear off my clothes and revel in some sort of mindless orgasm, but I lie still. He leans close to me and he breaths in the scent of my neck and hair. He is too close and I can smell the scent of him. He is too male and full of sexual urgency. My mind and feeling reel with pleasure and surrender... He touches under my throat and down the top curve of my chest. I unsnap or he does, I can't remember, the vest and somehow my chest and belly are bare. I feel the sun and the slight breeze, then his breath as he lowers his head to my body. His breathing is ragged and yet he is still and controlled. His tongue touches the hair line of my belly that leads to my cock, but he goes up t my chest and the inside of my arms. I shrug out of my vest and coat and stretch open to him. His tongue is hot, and so wet as he traces up to the armpits. The lightest of touches with his face and fingers send shots of pleasure coursing down my ribs and inside my thighs. He doesn't stop and I am crazy with desire to give to him. Somehow I squirm out of the pants that are so tight, yet slip off, and now I pull at his clothing. His shirt and pants are not off without effort. I feel tangled in my pants and boots. he seems to know and as I reach for the boots, he brushes my hand back, and takes them off slowly, pulling the laces and opening for my foot and leathers to fall free. I am suddenly aware that we are both naked in the sun. He has the most beautiful cock I have ever seen. It is thick and the skin is pulling back from the head in its excitement. There is a pearl of shining liquid at the end that as I watch rolls down the side of the head. His hair on his belly and chest is a mat of masculine swirls that hold his scent and I shudder as I grasp at his body. He lets me pull him to me, and I push my cock too hard against him and feel his push against me. This frustrates me further, and he pushes me back onto the dry smooth grass. My cock is leaping with each touch and the clear pre cum is rushing out of my cock. I see it stringing from the head to my belly. He sees it too and touches it with his tongue. He licks it and touches the head of my penis for the first time and I cannot stand the promise of it. He lowers himself to my balls and then begins to lick and suck at the edges and the sac and I pull my legs up as if wishing to be fucked. He reaches down to the skin under my balls and follows down to my ass. I am straining for oxygen, and he begins to lightly touch me with his finger, his tongue, his face and the stubble of his beard, my balls tighten as my body begins to send the semen pounding out of my cock. He knows, and only then he closes his hot mouth over the head and as he slides it deep into his throat, I writhe in a pleasure I have never felt, and I shoot load after load into his hot throat, and just as it begins to finish, it begins again with a second double orgasm that nearly sends me unconscious with the incredible pleasure of it. He is arching his back and I feel the hot spurts of cum hitting my leg and he moans as he blows warm sticky white cum onto my leg. I know then he feels it as strongly as I do. He pulls up beside me and we nestle against each other, two big muscled hairy men, spent and smelling of sex. I close my eyes and as we fit together, not moving we both drift into a light sleep. It is later, but not much, I awake and carefully, slowly, untangle myself from this beautiful young giant. His cock is still big and it is still wet with cum. He is sleeping soundly. I bend over him without touching, and drink in the scent of him, his hair, his chest, his belly and cock, and even his ass. The hair of his legs has a fresh and inviting scent, like clean jeans, and more. I know I can never recapture this, and picking up my clothes and pack, walk slowly away. I stop and pulling on my clothes watch him, wishing he would wake and fearful he will. I know he does not even speak English. I return to the bike and make it all ready. I am mounting the bike, and I see a small red flower. I pick it ÿnd walk quietly back to my sleeping man: I lay the red flower as close to his penis as I can. Will he see it and know that he has had some kind of virginity from me. I wonder. I start the bike and leave in a shower of gravel gone, alone again, safe from a passion I didn't know I had. And so it ends. Is it a beautiful moment of passion, one that each will remember and cherish? , or is it some degrading scene, not witnessed, but somehow allowed to speed the descent of man to the level of a beast. I do not know, and long and hard I have thought of my passion. I was the man, the sinner and the lover.