ANGEL IN FLIGHT
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Angel gave his cycle a few revs, hands twisting his handholds and then he jumped his bike forward off its kickstand, the rear tire skidded him around and he was tooling down the path toward the ramp. I watched him as he hit the steep incline of the ramp at high speed and launched out into space. As he left the ground, he let go of his handlebar and gave a couple of quick "wing-flaps" of his hands and arms as he stood up on his motorcycle, then sat quickly back down, grabbed his handholds and landed with a jar and went out of sight behind some bushes beyond.
Not much of a trick stunt for motocross jumping, was it? Well, Angel was capable of plenty of other tricks, he was doing this to teach me how. I had learned how to take a ramp and land safely, now it was time to teach me the tricks. For this, he had the kindness to take me to his personal jump ramp, well in the back of his mother's sizeable estate, a well-graded and well-maintained short stretch of dirt road and a single, regulation-sized jumping ramp. Angel could have afforded an entire course if he'd wanted it, but when I asked, he'd shrugged and said, "Then everyone would want to borrow it. This way, it's all mine." And it was. When Angel wanted to run a full course, he joined the groups at the local motocross arena and waited his turn like a normal mortal human being instead of the god-on-wheels that he was.
I heard him stop his cycle and gulped, gave my own motorcycle the gun and headed for the ramp. This was an easy stunt, I told myself as I headed for the ramp, just make sure your motorcycle is balanced and steady when you leave the ramp. Then keep your center of gravity steady as you let go and stand up on the motorcycle, hanging on with your legs on either side, and extend your arms.
Simple stuff, huh? I left the ramp and felt that I was falling. The motorcycle's pitch beneath me damped down to a low rumble almost immediately, I was still rising. I let go of the handlebars and straightened my legs, gripping the bike with my legs.
Don't do it, my stomach begged me as I straightened my body out. My nuts tried to crawl up into my body while every pore of my body simultaneously decided to exude a rank-smelling sweat.
But I did it, I got my arms outstretched, and then I could feel I had begun to fall-you get such a short time up in the air on a jump, a second or so is all-and I hurriedly sat back down and grabbed my handholds, unintentionally giving the gun to my motorcycle (a mistake, you have to land with the motor idling and THEN give it the gas after you have finished landing) and I let go for a second, the motorcycle landed with a heavy thud that shook my body, and I clutched for a hold, and bounced slightly and unintentionally gave it the gun again in the air and then I was down and the bike jerked beneath me, the steering column wobbled and I skidded, lurched, barely got it under control again and hit the gas (best way to stay steady on a bike is to be moving, your own momentum acts like a gyroscope), and finished up with something approaching Angel's easy elan.
I stopped my bike by giving skidding around a quarter turn so that it was facing to the left-and facing Angel. He sat there like a white guardian angel on his white motorcycle, dressed in white leather decorated with powder blue and just enough red to keep the eye moving over his body, his helmet was white with red stripe, and I knew beneath that visor was a gorgeously handsome young man with blond hair and an easy, clean smile as wholesome as summertime and as caring as your favorite pet dog.
"Not bad for a first jump." He said to me kindly.
"Are you kidding?" I grimaced. "I stunk."
"Hey." He said, lifting the visor and I got a glimpse of eyes the same shade of blue as he wore on his leather jumpsuit. Should have used yellow instead of red, I thought, to match his hair, a sunny-gold yellow that was the color of sunbeams trapped in a dense forest .
"What did you say?" I stuttered.
He shook his head and I knew though I couldn't see it that he was grinning. "I said you have to learn to crawl before you can walk, and walk before you can run." He said. "You were okay until it came time to grab hold again, then you were overeager and grabbed too hard, that's all. The motorcycle is stable if you've taken off right, trust it to land stable even if you don't have a good hold on the handlebars just then. I know guys who do the entire jump including landing without their hands. With a good course, you can do that when you're good enough."
He shut down his visor and said to me, his voice blurred by the helmet. "Want to try it again?"
"You bet!" I said.
"Then let's go." I think he said, but the roar of his engine drowned that out. I followed him back over the ramp, this time at a granny's pace, for the ramp wasn't as even on this side as it was on the other. Even at this slow speed, I felt the bike want to jump into the air with me as I crested the hill.
Would I ever be as good as Angel on his white, sleek cycle? I hadn't dared to imitate him too much, my own leather suit was navy blue, the arms were the only decoration, yellow, with red and white flame-shaped stripes on the upper arms. Even so, the leather suit had cost me $1,800.00, and I'd had to pay for some careful tailoring on it even after it had been cut to my measurements.
I had hoped to capture in blue what Angel had in white. When he moved it was like poetry. His shining white motorcycle and his white leather suit was like a vision come down from heaven. I have never met a man who deserved his name more than Angel, named so by an overindulgent mother because he was such a pretty baby. Such a name could have been a curse but Angel grew up worthy of his moniker, more, it was impossible to imagine him adorned with any other name. (I knew all this from his old school yearbooks, the pictures his mother had shown me the night before, and any number of talks with his friends both old and new). He wore his superiority with style and gracious manners, one gesture of which was to accept me as his friend when we'd met the past year at college. Other young men in Angel's position-goodlooking, almost too pretty, well-dressed, gloriously beautiful in the face and magnificently formed in the body-would have suffered abuse from envious bullies but nobody bothered Angel. Men and women alike beamed when he condescended to notice them as a part of his world.
Angel had long loved the motocross, and had owned his own motocross bike since he was fourteen. Now at nineteen, he had a brace of trophies in his room. Entranced by his movements on the motocross bike, the acrobatics in the air with such flippant names as "can-can", "barhop", "lazyboy" and "saran wrap," I had bravely bought myself a motocross cycle and the navy blue leather suit I wore now, and set out to learn how to ride the damned thing with Angel's tolerant help.
Angel made it look so easy! Would I ever get over this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I felt the bike slew slightly out of normal?
"Tell you what." He said when we were both back in position on the other side. I could just hear him over the drumming of the engines, eager to rev up to the mark and fly once more. The motocross motorcycle is really a lightweight powerhouse, it was easy to make it jump into the air, grow wings, and take flight. "Let's do the jump together, side by side. Only you just watch me while I do it again."
"Okay." I said and we were off once more. Side by side, we tooled down the stretch. Evenly matched, we rammed up the ramp. I felt Angel's equal for this moment, just this brief moment, I was in flight with him. When we hit the ramp's top and began to fly, I barely knew what I was doing, when he stood up and let go, I did, too, and as he stretched out his arms, I did the same, and our fingers touched and he looked at me as we both flapped our arms in freedom flight.
Then he was sitting down again and I followed him slowly, sitting down and still looking at him as he gripped his bars, as he landed ka-runch! And I went spilling.
A motocross bike is lightweight, and the leather suit is built to absorb punishment when you spill, that is all that saved me from injury in what turned out to be only an ignominious pratfall. As for bruises, well, for the moment, only my pride was battered. I landed like a limp ragdoll, which saves you more damage than you'd think it would, and my body was safe from scrapes by my leather suit and the smoothness of the dirt road. It was no feather bed, but it was better than landing on jagged rocks and prickly bushes.
"Josh? Josh!" Angel called out and suddenly, somehow (or maybe some time passed, I was dazed), he was beside me, bending over me, the helmet gone from his head, peering down at me like an angel from heaven.
I felt a silly grin on my face. "Hello." I said.
"Josh, are you all right? Just lie still for a moment."
"I'm fine." I said. "Just fine."
"Can you move your toes?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I can move." I said after checking it. "Just just a little dizzy."
"Just lie still for a while." Angel said and took my head on his lap, holding it there with his hands and arms.
I was where I had always wanted to be. Months of knowing Angel, desiring him from that first moment, taking with gratitude the crumbs he dealt me for being his friend, sharing his life and yet not sharing it enough. And now I was where I had always longed to be, cradled in his arms.
Can you blame me, then, for stretching this time out, for playing ill? I let my eyelids droop so I was only seeing him through my eyelashes, and the sun in his hair turned it into a halo.
"You look like an angel." I murmured.
He only smiled genially at that. "Lie still. You're shaken up."
"You better believe I am." I said. And my arm went up on its own, without my telling it to, and cupped his cheek in its palm.
He didn't brush my hand away. He didn't! He let it stay there, touching him, smiling down at me. And I started to smile, felt my lips crackle, licked them and then smiled timidly.
His face lowered itself down to mine, his lips his lips were warm as sunshine, soft as a mother's hand upon her infant's back while he slumbers, he pressed those lips, those wonders, against my own, and his hands tightened and pulled me up toward him.
I went with those hands how could I not? Had it meant my death, I would have risen up as I did, to a semi-sitting position, with Angel kneeling over me, reaching my face up to his, our lips becoming one melding, melting, joining in tender delight.
His arm at my back snaked down to grasp me, my arms reached up like a tulip's petals to cup his shoulders, his hand on my chest slid down to grasp oh, God! To grasp me there, oh, God! If this was a dream, let me never awaken again!
The zipper on a leather suit is in two parts, the top one starts at your throat and runs down to your navel. There a single snap fastener holds the waistband together, and from there a second zipper runs down as a regular fly. With both zippers unzipped and the snap unsnapped, the leather suit opens up like a banana peels.
Angel's hand was feeling my cock through the leather, stirring my groin beneath, then his fingers caught the tab of my zipper and the new shiny metal obligingly rasped down for him.
"Oh, God!" I gasped as his hand reached inside, before he had even fought his way through the barricade of my jockstrap, even as his fingers wrestled with the elastic band, my body shuddered in anticipation that was as acute as any masturbation I had yet experienced. And when he touched it, touched my dong. "Gah!" I gasped, lowering my head so I could see this, see his white-leathered arm against my navy-blue-leathered crotch, see the hand of an Angel upon my manhood. I was panting like any old, feeble asthmatic geezer would, trying to summon up words, trying to encompass the orgy of sensations racing around my body, trying to do anything other than what I was, lying here in Angel's arms while his hand lifted my prick into the warm air, the cockhead boiling red with inflamed fury, and he pumped my prick.
And I sprayed my wad right then, like an overeager teenager. Like a foolish youngster who had never felt anything like this before, and when the sensations hit him he was lost. Like like me.
Angel took it as a compliment, he pumped me even harder and as I was spasming in his embrace, he urged me onwards. "Come on, Josh, shoot it, man, shoot it hard, yeah, get it all over yourself, come on, yeah, man, yeah!"
Done, my face flushed, my brow coated in sweat, my energy ebbing down into the sewer, I had to look up into that angelic countenance, had to smile at him, ashamed to my very core at my adolescent reaction, so that one touch from him had sent me into orgasmic ardor.
"Oh, man!" I heaved. "Oh, man!"
"Man, you really were hot, weren't you?" Angel seemed to think it all a good joke, my situation.
I closed my eyes in agony. "I'm sorry." I gasped out.
"Sorry for what?" Angel wanted to know.
"You touched me and I just just lost it."
"Hey." Angel said to me. "Don't worry about it. As much as you've been panting after me, I didn't expect you to last very long."
"You knew?" I asked him.
He laughed. "How could I not know? You strip me with your eyes every time you look at me. My face and my crotch, you look back and forth every two seconds, whenever we're together. What's not to know?"
"I'm sorry." I said again.
"Don't be." Angel said. "You're here, aren't you? You think I invite everyone back to my house to spend the summer?" His mother had commented on how he never invited anyone out to visit with them before, but it had been part of a long diatribe from her, and I hadn't thought about it.
Angel helped me up to my feet and I stood before him, my come in pearly globs on my leather suit, my cock hanging out, looking at him in virginal white, like a bride. And he was mine he wanted me!
With that thought, strength surged again in my watery bones like a jolt of lightning and I felt a confidence that belied my soiled state, I reached out brazenly and tugged down the long top zipper, to expose the clean flesh beneath Angel didn't wear any undershirt!
My hands fought the leather apart, it wanted to embrace his supple skin the same as me, but I tugged it away from him and my lips reached for one distended nipple, caught and suckled the tender nub. Angel's hands cupped my buttocks and pulled our crotches together, he ground up against me, ramming his dong against mine.
Hell, I didn't need any hints on what to do next. It was his turn Or should I say, my turn to do what I'm dreamed of every night since I'd met him last fall.
Leather kneepads sewn into the suit protected my knees as I fell to the ground. His snap at the waist popped with a happy noise and his zipper gave way eagerly no briefs or jock either! He was nude under this suit! God, leather feels good on a guy, but you also want a little cushioning between you and that too-clinging material. I'd noticed how much a part of his skin this suit seemed to be without thinking about what that meant, it was practically glued to him by his own sweat glands!
His cock boiled in a cauldron of sweat, the heady aroma hit me and curled up inside my nostrils, steaming like a cobra snake dancing on its tail, tongue darting out to touch my internal membranes, trailing moist lines of identification upon my brain this was Angel, the real Angel, all of him was there, this is who he was. In this way, he gave himself to me.
His cock came free of its nest to nod its head at me, a purplish-hued bulb in his so-white body in this so-white suit, it glistened and gleamed at me, a shiny cherry begging me to ingest it.
My lips curled around the plump plum of his glans, and the taste of Angel was there, salty, sweaty, heavy and yet rampant with the energy of youth, it seethed out and dribbled onto my tongue, dotting my tastebuds with pre-come's uniquely savory blend of hormones and promise.
"Uuuh, yeah!" Angel groaned. "Mmm, yeah!" as I began to work the ripe prick, sending the foreskin seething over the glans and then driving the fleshy mass back into submission again, it was rich, it was velvety smooth and creamily soft and when it roiled over his glans again, it was a triumph of tidal-wave-like assault that bunched over his cockhead and I held him like that, and stuck my tongue into the tiny hole left there by his foreskin.
"Uuh, uh, yeah!" Angel grunted. "Man, you do that so good! Come on, suck it some more." I was happy to comply with such an earnest wish from such a beautiful face, I began to work him in a more intense way, now I was wringing his pleasure from him, and as I plied my skill upon his pud, he began to sway back and forth in time to my movements, prolonging each stroke that way, and I deepened my own motions to wring him further and further delights, his cock burned and seethed upon my tongue until it was a steel-hard column that didn't bend in the least as I drove it into my throat, instead it pummeled the back of my throat, and Angel was grunting, moaning, and I knew he was at the edge of his climax.
I wanted it, I wanted it all, I caught him by his hips and I drove that huge schlong into me and I held it deep within me, and gave him only the slightest movement to bring him on over the top, and Angel groaned, gasped, strangled, and with an explosion of sound from his lips, I felt the heavy prick release its flood of jism into my mouth and throat and I sucked down the salty ambrosia gladly, it was a thick, warm mass that slipped down my gullet like so much ice cream would, and then Angel was clutching at me, holding himself erect by clinging to me as well as he could, and it was over and I had to let him go though there was nothing I wanted less than to release this body now that I had it.
But a man has his duties, I carefully tucked his dong back into his pants before I rose, giving him the dignity of facing me with his face flushed and his eyes softened by expended desire, and a hitch at my crotch flipped my own prick back into its confinement, and in that discreet and modest dress, I wrapped my angel in my arms and pressed our lips together once more.
Angel kissed me in a way that was all-out, giving all of himself to me, and I took it with worship and awe, and returned to him myself.
Angel's hand stroked my hair like you would a child's, with affection and tenderness. "Damn." He said to me reverently. "I was wondering if I was ever going to get you to try anything."
"I wanted to." I said. "I just couldn't figure out how."
"I know." He smiled. "You were just so damned shy."
"So why didn't you try anything, if you knew?" I returned to him.
He laughed. "Because if I had, you would have creamed in your pants right then and there, wherever we were."
"Hey!" I protested. "I was just turned on then. Next time I'll last as long as you want me to."
"I'll test you out on that tonight." He chided me, not viciously but the way two old friends can push each other's limits without offense. "Bet you'll spurt all over the wall if I'm not careful where I aim it."
Tonight. I felt a warm feeling in my stomach. "Yeah, well, we'll see about that." I said. "Bet I'll last longer than you will."
"Okay, tonight." He said. "Now, let's get back on our bikes. We have a lot to do if you're going to go with me to Hanover for the rally next weekend."
"Can I go as your pit crew?" I said as I followed him. "I have to admit that I hate riding motorcycles."
Stunned, he turned and looked at me. Then burst out in laughter as he understood what I had gone through to be with him. "Okay, then, you can just watch me practice the rest of the afternoon."
So I made myself comfortable in the shade of a tree and watched my angel as he took wing, again and again. Admiring the simple beauty of an angel in flight.
THE END
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E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM