CHECKING IN By Ardveche ardveche@mac.com
Standard disclaimers apply; you know what this is, because you know what kind of stories appear here. So, if you don't like gay oriented fiction, that's your right, but I suggest you not read on. This story is a work of fiction, and is entirely the copyrighted property (c) ardveche@mac.com 2006 of its author. This story may not be distributed or copied without the express permission of the author.
There can be few things as boring as working the desk of a small town motel. Try to imagine it. Now try to imagine it as a seventeen year old boy on a Saturday night. This is my life. I could have been at a movie with Caroline, my girlfriend, wearing down her morals and trying to get into her pants. Or I could have been with my buddies, drinking a few illicit beers and telling tales about getting into Caroline's pants. Instead I was here, reading, and presiding over the least frequented motel in the universe. Of the twelve cabins available two were occupied, both by long term residents placed there by the county, and the last person to come in had been some time last year. Well, eight o'clock to be exact, but it felt like last year and all he wanted was to use the john.
I was supposed to be reading about the life of Oscar Wilde for English class, but I couldn't concentrate on it. I didn't want to either. Why did we have to learn about that Goddamn queer anyway? Reverend Taylor was right, faggots were an abomination. Maybe I could call Caroline? So far things hadn't gone quite as fast as I had hoped, we were kinda hovering around second base. She wanted me to say I loved her, maybe ask her to marry me for all I knew, before we went any further. If it meant I finally got laid, I was willing to tell her I loved her. I was willing to say pretty much anything. I know masturbation is a sin, but lately it's been getting really hard to walk the path of righteousness.
My reverie was broken by my mother's sudden arrival with a soda. Thankfully I was able to hide my hard-on with the book I was meant to be reading. This sort of thing was happening a lot, and I lived in perpetual fear of 'the talk' if my folks ever noticed. For now, I had taken to jerking off furtively in the cabins while my parents thought I was doing the cleaning. Life's hard when you're a horny teenager. My mother smiled and looked like she was about to say something but she was cut off by the low, throaty rumble of an engine. A motorcycle engine outside on the road, growing louder as it approached the parking lot.
"Maybe a customer?" My mother said hopefully, business had been poor lately, and money was real tight.
"Probably just wants directions." I replied without much enthusiasm. The throbbing of the engine continued unevenly for a few moments after the bike stopped outside. Through the office window I could see the outline of the bike and rider, badly illuminated by the flickering neon letters of the 'vacancies' sign. The biker cut the engine and swung off the seat, pulling off his helmet as he did so. Then with a quick shake of his head and a straightening of his shoulders he approached the door to the office. The little bell jangled annoyingly as the door swung closed behind him.
"Hi," he said simply, "sign said vacancies." His voice was soft, with a slight southern twang. Standing on the other side of the counter from my mother and me was a man of maybe six foot two, broad shouldered and obviously well built. He was clad in tough black leather riding pants and jacket with padded elbows and knees and a pair of knee high boots with a row of buckles up the outside. In one gloved hand he held a backpack by one strap, and in the other a black helmet. I realized I was staring and snapped my gaze away from him. He was very different from our usual customers.
"Yes, we still have a couple left." My mother answered, less taken aback by his appearance than I was. There was a time she might have thought twice about renting a room to someone who looked like that but, like I said, times were hard. "How long would you like it for?"
"Not long. Couple of days maybe. Depends." He smiled broadly, but didn't elaborate and my mother didn't push him. My mother got him to fill out the register and then turned to me.
"Josh, honey? Would you show the gentleman to his cabin?" I turned my attention away from the biker.
"Huh?"
"Show the man to cabin eight, dear."
"Oh. Right. Sure." I blushed, I had been caught staring at him and I was embarrassed by it. "Follow me." I muttered more to the floor than to him. He stood aside to let me go first and then followed me out the door. We walked across the lot in silence my attention largely on his bike, a Triumph. At the cabin I opened the door for him and gestured for him to go first, his arm brushed against me as he entered the small room. Once inside, he threw his bag helmet and gloves on the bed and ran a hand through his tangle of sandy-blond hair. For the first time, he looked at me and offered me a broad white grin.
"So what does a guy do for fun round here, Joshua? It is Joshua, right?"
"I prefer Josh." I answered, and he nodded once and turned away from me.
"So?"
"So, what?" I was lost.
"So, what does a guy like you do for fun?" He unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off onto the bad. Underneath he wore a white tank-top, tight on his solid, muscular body which tapered to his leather covered ass. Across his tanned shoulders was a scattering of freckles and a light sheen of sweat. He turned to face me again, and I dragged my eyes up from crotch level, terrified he might see and think I was checking him out. Think I was some sort of fag. He had an amused expression on his face, and his pale blue eyes twinkled.
"Um, the usual stuff, I guess." I answered. He kept looking straight at me, and I shuffled uncomfortably. Why was I even here? Shouldn't I have just given him the key and walked away? "I like your bike." I heard myself say.
"Yeah?" He seemed uninterested.
"Um, yeah. I'm saving for one myself. Won't be as good as yours though." I sounded like an idiot, I was saying whatever came into my head. This wasn't like me, I was a pretty cool guy usually.
"I'm gonna take a shower. You can stay if you like." His eyes were locked on mine.
"What? No! I'm going." I spun quickly towards the door and tripped over my own feet. Instantly, his strong hand was on my arm, hauling me to my feet. "Sorry." I was red with embarrassment and I realized with horror that as soon as he touched me my cock sprang up to full hardness. I had to get out of there. I left the room without a backward glance, my cheeks burning. I was halfway across the lot when I heard his voice.
"Joshua!" He drew out the last two vowels mockingly. "Oh, Joshua."
"What?" I turned, praying the darkness would conceal my bulging jeans.
"My key?" His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. That same irritating smirk on his face. I was still holding the key to his cabin. "Unless you want it to get back in later?"
"What?" Nobody had ever made a suggestion like that to me before. Actually suggested that I was a fag. I was dumbstruck. The whole idea sickened me. In my anger, I forgot about my erection and stormed back towards him to give him the fucking key. I thrust it towards him, a scowl on my face. He reached out to take the key and his hand touched mine, I jerked back, letting the key fall to the dirt between us. With a grin, he ostentatiously spun on one foot, so his back was to me and squatted to pick it up. I turned again and left as quickly as I could without running.
Back in the office, I leant with my back against the door, heavy breathing. What the fuck was going on? I had never been turned on by a guy in my life, it was wrong. Utterly, utterly wrong. I had hardly been able to keep my eyes off him. And worse! He'd seen me looking at him and leapt to the only possible conclusion. He had laughed at me. I had never felt such an urgent need to cum in my life, the buttons on my jeans were about to shoot off. I headed for the bathroom, and locked myself in, my cock out practically before the door closed behind me. Oh, God, why couldn't Caroline stop being so fucking frigid? I wanted to fuck her so badly, I wanted to feel her lips on me, on my balls, my hands on her breasts, the warm wetness of her. My hand was a blur, and it kept whipping up and down for a moment or two after I blew my load all over the tiles.
When my breathing steadied, I made a hasty attempt to clean up. There, I had cum explosively while thinking about my girlfriend. There was nothing wrong with me at all, the biker was completely forgotten. I checked my appearance in the mirror, pulled the flush and returned to the office. He was standing there. He obviously hadn't rung the bell for one of my parents, and was waiting for me, still dressed as he was when I left him. I moved quickly behind the counter and waited for him to speak. He didn't for some time.
"Hey, stud. Got any ice?"
"Ice?" Why did he call me 'stud'?
"Yeah, you know, frozen water." He was still smiling at me, like he knew something I didn't. "A pitcher'll do."
"Yeah. Yes, I'll get it for you."
"Cool." I went through the door dividing our house from the office and into the kitchen, calling to my parents that I was getting ice for cabin eight, and returned to him with it.
"Here. Anything else?" I placed the pitcher full of ice on the counter, without meeting his gaze.
"Thanks. Not right now." He turned to leave, and stopped by the door. "Oh, you have something on your leg." And then he was gone. I looked down and saw he was right, there on the left leg of my jeans was a short dribble of my own semen. I was too appalled to even manage to be embarrassed, but I preserved enough self awareness to wipe the cum off. I was hard as a rock once more. This guy was really getting to me, was really shaking me up. I told my parents I was kinda tired and wanted to go read for class. They bought it, probably because the chance of anyone else showing up for a room was so slight.
I stripped off and threw myself into a cold shower to try and calm myself down but only ended up playing with my balls and jacking off again in the shower. I tried to concentrate on the curves of Caroline's body but couldn't prevent images of smooth black leather entering my mind. I had to bite down on my lower lip to stop myself crying out as I came. When I flopped onto my bed, I was exhausted and was asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. My sleep was untroubled by dreams, and I awoke with my customary morning erection poking out of my striped boxers. Another shower took care of that problem, I dressed in a white button down shirt, khakis and brown shoes and made my way downstairs.
"Morning, honey." My mother chirped as I entered the kitchen. "I hope you didn't have any plans for today?" I shook my head, knowing I was about to be assigned some chores. "Good, I told Mark you'd help him out after church."
"Who's Mark?" I asked between mouthfuls of corn flakes.
"Cabin eight? He said you two talked last night."
"Help him out with what?" I was instantly on guard, suspicious that this guy, Mark, had been talking to my mother about the night before. What might he have said? But that was ridiculous, if he'd said anything my mother would hardly be acting like this. Besides, she wouldn't believe a stranger over me, would she? Why was I suddenly feeling so defensive anyway? It's not like I'd done anything wrong.
"With his bike. There's something wrong with it. He didn't say what, I thought you would be interested." She supplied.
There was no way out of it, I already said I had nothing planned. And ordinarily I would have jumped at the chance of being that close to a bike. But the idea of spending the afternoon with him didn't appeal to me, not with the suggestive way he talked to me, the way he smirked. The guy already thought I was some kind of pervert, what if I acted the same way again today? But I wasn't going to. We were two guys, doing a very guy thing, fixing a bike. I could handle that. I gave a sigh and shrugged to indicate that I would do it, I had no choice if I didn't want to face a barrage of questions from my mother.
"Good, he said you were just to go over to his cabin when we got back."
"His cabin?"
"That's right." I know my tone was less calm than it should have been, but my mother made no comment. I didn't want to go to his cabin, I wanted to be where people could see us. Why? What was I afraid of? That he was going to jump me? It was me who had behaved like some sort of homo, not him. I wondered, briefly, what Reverend Taylor (or the guys on the team) would say if they knew about my 'cumathon' the night before, and blushed at the memory. When I finished breakfast I drove with my parents to our local church, leaving a sign in the office window in the forlorn hope that another customer would show. It was a lovely day, the sun beating down on the little white church and sprinklers working overtime to keep the grass from browning. Reverend Taylor greeted us all by name as we filed in and shook mine and my father's hands on the way out.
The sermon was all hellfire and damnation about the sin of sloth, but in truth I hardly took it in, being too preoccupied with sins of my own. This wasn't like me, the preacher usually had my complete attention as he harangued the congregation, but two rows in front, and off to the left was Caroline in a summer dress with small blue flowers on it, her shoulders bare. From time to time she glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled. I could just see the swell of her right breast, enough to tantalize, to make me squirm uneasily in my pew and to wish I was wearing looser pants. Afterwards, outside in the sun as my parents talked to the preacher, Caroline bounced over to me and took my hand in hers. My pulse quickened; in the last year or so I had found that the tiniest things could set my hormones raging, and on the day of rest was no exception.
"I thought about you this weekend, Josh." She whispered as we walked a little away from our parents down the path to the street.
"I thought about you too." I replied with feeling. "I was going to call you last night, but it was kinda late. I'm sorry. I had to work." I shrugged, Caroline knew the pressures on my parents and was very understanding about the pressures that put on me. Not that going on a date with her would have done anything at all for my sexual tension.
"It's okay. Sarah and Miranda came over. I had to baby-sit Freddie." Freddie was her hideous little brother, the reason we could never do anything at her place. I suppressed a shudder at the thought of Sarah and Miranda. I really liked Caroline, but some of her friends were scary, always dissecting the boys at school. That was a real fear with me, that I finally would get to do it with Caroline and then my performance would be picked apart by the gruesome twosome. And they say boys are cruel, those two left us all standing.
"Maybe we could go to Mitch's party Friday?" I suggested, I didn't really like Mitch, but he was popular and everyone would be there.
"Yes. I'd like that." She smiled at me. "It's sweet of you to do that for me." She kissed my cheek, and renewed the space problem in my pants.
"No problem."
"Caroline!" Her father's voice interrupted us. "Caroline, honey, come on. We have to get going to make it to Grandma's for lunch." She shrugged at me and gave me a lopsided grin, we walked back to the huddle of parents still hand in hand. Both sets of parents approved of us dating, and her parents tended to treat me like the son they never had, always asking how practice was going, coming to all the games - taking more interest in my sports than my own father ever did. And my parents thought it was great that I was dating Mayor Bob Anderson's daughter.
"Hello, Josh."
"Mrs. Anderson." I smiled broadly at Caroline's mother.
"You get more handsome every time I see you!" She cooed, much to my embarrassment, used though I was to her fussing over me. Every time she did it now, I was reminded of something Paul, one of my teammates, said; that I had more chance of getting in Mrs. Anderson's pants than in Caroline's. I could only smile, and shuffle uncomfortably. "Well, we have to get going, Robert's mother is having us for lunch."
"Bye."
"Bye, Josh, see you at school!" Caroline kissed my cheek chastely and trotted obediently after her parents. I got in the back of my dad's car and we drove back out of town to the motel and the dust of the parking lot. I went inside and quickly changed into an old pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, kicked my feet into my sneakers and jogged back downstairs, glad to be in something comfortable again. With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and strode across the short distance to Mark's cabin and rapped on the door. I waited, after a moment he yanked the door open and grinned at me. The leathers were gone, he was dressed in blue-black jeans and a pair of running shoes, a white tank top and an open shirt, checkered, with the sleeves rolled up.
"Hey." He said leaning on the door frame. "Sleep well?"
"Hey." I said back at him with less enthusiasm. "So my mom said you wanted help with your bike?" I pointedly ignored his question.
"Yeah." He said pushing himself upright with a grunt. "Hang on a second." He went back into the room and fished a canvas bundle from his backpack and snatched his keys from the dresser. "You know much about engines?"
"Some."
"Cool." He favored me with another grin and motioned for me to follow him across the lot to his bike. I walked a few steps behind him, definitely not noticing how well his clothes hung on his body, or how fluidly he moved. He had a kind of natural, animal grace that gave the impression of hidden speed and strength. The sun caught his hair, making it appear lighter than it had before, like my buddy Paul's. Where was this coming from? Since when did I notice shit like that?
"So what's the problem?" I asked, keeping to neutral, safe subjects as he squatted by the bike and unrolled the tools, pulling the dark denim tight over his thighs.
"No idea, stud, that's what we have to find out." There was that 'stud' again, like he was mocking me. I was very self-conscious around him, very aware of my own shortcomings. I felt short, which I'm not at five eleven, I felt skinny, which I also am not. I play football for my high school, I swim competitively and I work out as often as I get the chance. I'd never had any reason to compare myself unfavorably to another guy, but I was doing it now.
"Josh." I said quietly, but firmly. I noticed that my fists were clenched and forced my fingers to uncurl. I remained standing.
"I know." Was all the answer he gave, cocking his head up at me and squinting in the glare of the sun. "Do me a favor, Josh?"
"What?" I scowled at him.
"Relax."
"I am relaxed." Damn it, he'd noticed.
"Right. You know how to start one of these?"
"Yeah."
"Go ahead." He held the keys out to me. I momentarily forgot that I was trying to be on my guard with him and practically snatched the keys from his hand, I couldn't believe he was letting me do that. He grinned broadly, "that moody thing you do is cool, but you look a helluva lot better when you smile."
"That's what my mom says." It was so incongruous coming from him that I laughed as I swung my leg over his bike, before he could change his mind. I ran my hand over the cool metal and breathed in slowly as I inserted the key, turned it and kicked the engine into life. I was rewarded immediately with the growling of the previous night and the vibrating of the machinery between my legs, I was starting to get aroused. I kept my feet on the ground to steady the bike and looked round at him.
"Hear that?" He asked, his head on one side.
"What? Sounds okay to me."
"Shh. Listen." He held a finger up to his lips and I strained my ears in an effort to figure out what he was hearing. "Hear it now?"
"Yeah, a sort of ticking?" There was indeed a low, tinny, almost imperceptible sound, barely audible over the sound of the engine. He nodded and indicated that I should kill the engine, as it died there was that uneven rattle I had noticed the night before. "That's not good." I observed.
"So what d'you think?"
"I don't know. Fuel intake maybe?" I really wasn't sure, but it seemed as good a place as any to start. He snorted.
"Let's find out. You got an old sheet or something?"
"Yeah, probably, hang on." I darted back inside and got a sheet from my mother which Mark and I then folded and carefully, bit by bit, laid out the Triumph's engine on, carefully cleaning and inspecting each component as we did so. We talked little as we worked. It felt good to be working outdoors, the hot sun beating down on my back, with this guy. A feeling I was unused to, my father was a real bookish, indoorsy kinda guy.
"So how old are you, Josh? Sixteen?"
"Seventeen. Eighteen in two months." I replied, a little annoyed that he thought that. "Why? Do I look younger?" I had put him in his middle twenties, but didn't ask him to confirm it.
"A little. But that's not an insult. Where'd you learn about bikes?" His eyes were on what he was doing, and I actually found him pretty easy to talk to when he wasn't looking right at me. Something about the amused twinkle in his pale blue eyes really seemed to throw me.
"A buddy of mine has a trail bike, his dad runs the garage in town, I hang out there a lot. And I've read like a million books about them. I want to buy a bike, get some more independence." That was the truth, it was hell relying on friends and parents every time I wanted to go into town. I dreamed of the day I could just start up my own bike and go wherever the mood took me.
"I know that feeling. Hate being tied down." I nodded my understanding. "Well, usually." He added, thank God he didn't look up then or he would have seen me flush at his innuendo. But he seemed utterly absorbed.
"So what brings you here anyway?" I wanted to know, and I wanted to steer the conversation on as quickly as possible.
"Nothing. I was passing through. But I had to stop and deal with this problem. I might stay a few days, who knows? Depends whether I can find anything to amuse me. Think that's likely?" This time he did look up, but he wasn't smiling.
"It's a pretty small town." I managed to reply.
"Yeah, I blinked on the way through." I laughed at that remark and he shook his head, returning to his work. I noticed that I was doing very little, leaning on the bike and watching him, maybe he only wanted me there for the company. He was pretty much done reassembling the engine anyway, so there wasn't much I could do. "You want a soda?" He asked suddenly, standing and stripping off his shirt, throwing it across the bike seat, displaying his powerful shoulders and biceps, and wiping his forearm across his brow, the shirt landed on my hand and I noticed it was a little damp. "It's so hot out here." I moved my hand.
"Yeah." I agreed.
"You wanna grab my wallet then? It's on the dresser. I'm gonna go clean my hands, okay?" I nodded and we set off in opposite directions, me towards his cabin, him towards the office and the bathroom there. "Hey, Josh? Grab my shades too would ya?"
"Sure." I called back.
It was blissfully cool in his room, and dark after the harsh light outside and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I found his sunglasses without a problem, and his wallet was there too but under his gloves so I missed it at first. Suddenly curious, I opened it and looked for an ID; his name was Mark Stephen Davis and he was, much as I thought, twenty-four years old, and a native of Georgia. My curiosity satisfied, I slipped his license back into the wallet and headed back out into the sun. It only then dawned on me to wonder why he wanted it in the first place.
"Ready, stud?" He asked coming out of the office.
"Um..." I wasn't sure if I was ready or not, that depended on what he meant. "For what?" I handed him the wallet and sunglasses, the former he slipped into his back pocket.
"Thought we'd kill two birds. Go get a soda, and test the bike." That sounded pretty sensible now he said it, and I realized I was a fool to have been worried. "Think your folks'd mind you riding pillion?"
"No. No. That'd be fine." I wasn't about to check, I badly wanted a ride on his bike and there was no way my perennially boring father was going to stop me.
"Well, you're my navigator then, where's good for soda?" He grinned foolishly and I found myself relaxing again.
"Herman's, best in the county." I answered playing along with him and grinning too despite myself. He shook his head and took a step towards me, I wondered what he was doing at first and then moved aside to let him at the bike as realization dawned. He pulled his shirt back on and swung his leg easily over the saddle and I found myself admiring the grace of his movements again.
"Getting on?" He asked after he had sat watching me for a while. "Or running alongside?" Why was I acting like such a dork? Easy, because the casual atmosphere of ten minutes before had been replaced by the tension of the previous night.
"Yeah, sorry." I mumbled and climbed cautiously on behind him, steadying myself on the saddle.
"You've done this before, right?" He asked over his shoulder.
"Um, yeah."
"Then you know you've gotta actually hold on to me?"
"Yeah." I inched forward on the seat, keeping my crotch (I was painfully hard again) at a distance from his denim clad butt and placed my hands on his waist.
"You sure you've done this?" There was laughter in his voice as he pulled on my arms, making me slide right up against him, and wrapping them fully round his waist, his stomach was absolutely solid, the kind I dreamt of having, and I caught my breath involuntarily as I felt it. "Clasp your hands." He instructed. If he could feel my cock, he was saying nothing about it. My chest was against his back, and a slight smell of sweat and motor oil was in my nostrils. I was so close to him I could have kissed the back of his neck. Not that I wanted to do anything like that, even if his short blond hair did look deliciously soft. I shook myself, what the fuck was I thinking? "Okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." I grunted in response. He gunned the engine and we rumbled slowly out of the lot and onto the road, gaining speed as we went. He didn't ask for directions as he swung out from the motel, I leaned further into him in the bend and we roared off in the direction of town. It felt fantastic! I had never been on a bike on the highway before and the feeling of speed was in-fucking-toxicating! I wanted to whoop and yell, it felt so good, so free, so powerful. I clung onto him, barely noticing him as we barreled along at what felt like it must be a hundred miles an hour. All too soon, it ended as we swung into the lot at Herman's and we slowed to a stop.
He stood up, still astride the bike and I let my hands drop from his waist, my fingers seemed very stiff and my face was now level with the small of his back. Reaching behind himself, he pulled out his wallet and handed me a bill. "You get them, okay?"
"Oh, okay. What do you want?" I swung awkwardly off the bike, nearly missed my footing and grabbed his upper arm to steady myself. His other hand shot out to support me and I was reminded again of the impression of coiled strength. "Thanks."
"Coke for me, and whatever you want." I went in and bought the soft drinks. When I rejoined Mark he was squatting by the bike again and peering at the engine. I stood on the step of Herman's and admired the way his broad, and I now knew heavily muscled, upper body swept down to a tight narrow waist. I walked over and, for reasons I cannot begin to explain, pressed the coke can playfully against the back of his neck. I expected him to jerk away, it's what I would have done, but instead he sighed.
"Man, that's good." He turned and took the can from me and passed it across his forehead, his tank top drawing up and out of his jeans, affording me a small flash of boxers and a sliver of belly. His arm dropped and he pressed the can behind either ear for a few seconds. "Phew!" He grinned at me. "So what d'you think? Did that fix it?" He kicked the front wheel of the bike as he took a long drink, his throat working convulsively. Mine went totally dry.
"I don't know." I had to admit. "I wasn't really listening."
"Just enjoying the ride, huh?" He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and crushed the can easily, throwing it into a trash can about ten feet away.
"Yeah. It was fantastic!"
"Why don't we find ourselves a quiet stretch of road and really open her up?" He waited for my reply. "That is, if you're not in a hurry to get home."
"Not really." I tried to contain my excitement at seeing what that big bike could really do. He nodded at me and we got back on the bike. This time I took my seat behind him with more confidence and made myself comfortable. We pretty soon were back on the highway, I tapped his arm and indicated the next right turn and we headed off the main road and out into the desert. He speeded up and the engine sound rose, the wind whipped his open shirt back against me and my hand got caught in it as I tried to wrap my arm back round him. My fingers brushed accidentally across his chest and I felt a rock-hard nipple which I instantly jerked my hand away from. I yelled an apology but I doubt if he heard me. We stopped again all too soon in a cloud of dust.
"It's still doing it."
"I still wasn't paying attention."
"Yeah. I know. C'mon, off." Ha slapped my thigh, I got off and he followed suit. He kicked the stand and walked slowly round the bike, I leaned back on it and waited. "You should get some pictures taken like that." He said, interrupting my pleasant vacancy. He kinda had a point, I looked pretty cool leaning against the bike like that - even if I did say so myself. I laughed and he removed his sunglasses. "I'm serious, you look great."
"Thanks." I looked away from him, self conscious under his gaze. Suddenly he was standing inches away from me, one hand on my waist, the other raising my chin so I had to look into his eyes. "What, what are you doing?" I stammered.
"This." His lips brushed lightly against mine and his hand released my chin to brush my short brown hair away from my face. The hand on my waist slid round to my lower back and pulled me a little closer to him. My lips were pressing back against his and my hands lifted involuntarily as though to embrace him. I panicked, pushing hard against his chest with both hands, forcing him to let me go.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded, putting the bike between us.
"What you want me to do." He answered with a dazzling smile.
"You're fucking crazy!" I yelled. "I'm not like that. I'm not a fag!" I was suddenly angry, not at him for reading the signals wrong but at myself for giving them. I hadn't thought that he might have an ulterior motive for bringing me so far out of town. "What are you going to do to me?" I asked, my voice catching, my hands balling into fists. He looked at me for a long time and then burst out laughing.
"Christ, Josh, nothing! I'm not going to hurt you! I just want to make you feel good. I thought you wanted me too." He shrugged. "Tell me you don't." He walked round the bike and stood facing me, I remained where I was. "Just say it." He whispered, his hand reached out and traced the line of my jaw, it sent a shiver of electricity down my spine which earthed itself in my crotch. It was so gentle, so tender, it felt so good my knees went weak.
"I..." I began to say but was stopped by his lips on mine again, I was about to protest when his tongue slipped past my teeth and into my mouth. The delicious warm moistness of it moved sensually around my own tongue and I found myself responding. I pushed him away again, I was up against the bike again. "Stop it!"
"I don't think you really want me to stop, Josh." He said softly.
"It's wrong. It's against nature!" I yelled at him, tears beginning to run down my cheeks. My hands were clenched in fists again, but I was making no attempt to get away.
"Do you really believe that bullshit?" He asked quietly.
"Reverend Taylor says..."
"Fuck Reverend Taylor," He cut me off, raising his voice for the first time. "I don't give a shit what Reverend Taylor thinks, I want to know what you think."
"It's in the Bible." I whispered. "It's a sin." Even to my ears that sounded feeble, how could something that felt that good be so very wrong?
"You poor kid." He answered, surprising me completely. I looked up through my tears (why was I crying?) to a see a look of real compassion on his face. He held his arms out towards me. "Come here." Almost without knowing what I was doing, I walked towards him and he closed his arms around me. My face was against his shoulder and he was just holding me tight, one hand round my back the other stroking my hair. I felt so safe there with him in that moment, like nothing could ever hurt me.
"I'm sorry." I snuffled.
"You've got nothing to be sorry about. You've done nothing wrong." He squeezed me a little tighter on both 'nothings'. His voice was so gentle and his arms so strong. "Let's head back." He let go of me and turned abruptly away, I felt terribly alone. I got on the bike behind him for want of an alternative. There was so much I wanted to say, to ask him, but I couldn't seem to think clearly enough to form a sentence. I laid my cheek against his back, and resumed my grip round his waist and tried not to think, the next thing I knew we were pulling back into the motel parking lot.
"Thanks." I said as I got off the bike.
"Forget it. You should go clean up." He walked away from me towards his cabin. I went indoors and headed straight up to my room. I needed a shower, I felt a strong urge to scrub myself thoroughly. What was wrong with me? I had let another man kiss me, I had broken down and clung to him like a baby. Why? I wasn't some kind of closeted fag, oppressed by his parents. I was straight. I had a girlfriend. But his arms had felt so good. I was so confused. I sat on my bed, my head in my hands.
"Josh, honey, that's us leaving!" My mother called up to me about an hour later. I still had no answers to the turmoil of questions in my head. My parents were going into town to the evening service at the church. I listened to the car pull out and began pacing my room. I was still wearing a hole in the rug two hours later. It was wrong. But it felt so good. I had to talk to him about what I was feeling. I had to confront him and tell him how wrong he was, tell him to leave. I paced some more until I had prepared myself mentally for the encounter. I crossed the lot in a daze and stared at his door for long minutes before pounding on it.
"Josh."
"What's wrong with me?" I asked, it wasn't what I planned to say, it wasn't even close to what I planned to say but it was the first thing to come into my head.
"From where I'm looking, stud, nothing's wrong with you." He smiled at me and stepped aside to let me into the cabin. I hesitated for a moment and then entered the room. His leathers were on the chair by the window and everything else had been returned to the backpack.
"Where are you going?"
"Bike's fixed." He shrugged eloquently.
"You can't go!" The look of surprise on his face, I knew for sure, was as pronounced as the one on my own face. I carried on speaking before I could change my mind and think better of it. "Not now. Not after today."
"You want me to stay?" He asked carefully, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.
"Yes." I couldn't hold his gaze so I spoke to the floor instead. "I don't know. I think maybe you should go right now, but I don't want you to. Does that make sense?"
"Not really."
"No." I shrugged, I could think of no better way to put it, I lacked the words to describe what was going on in my head. Abruptly, I felt the tears returning. I tried to choke them back, I never cry, this was so fucked up.
"It's okay, Josh." He came towards me and I was wrapped in his arms again, I clung to him. "Christ, what have I started?" He asked the room generally, he sounded distressed and I realized in some vague way that it was because I so obviously WAS distressed. Something in me made me want to comfort him as much as he was comforting me and I gave into my earlier temptation and pressed my lips against his neck. My nose was in his hair and he smelt so good, so fresh and clean, I moved my face back and looked into his eyes. They were so beautiful, so full of concern. For me. I can't remember ever seeing a look like that in another person's eyes. I kissed his lips and he groaned softly. Without transition I was lying on my back on the single bed, he was sitting beside me looking down at me, one hand resting on my rapidly rising and falling chest.
"Please..." I whispered. I didn't know what it was I wanted him to do, or not do, what I was asking for. All I knew was that I felt a terrible need and I knew that he could fill it. He bent over me and his lips grazed mine, instinctively I opened my mouth to him and gave myself over to the most wonderful kiss of my short life. Nothing I had ever done with Caroline felt even remotely as good as this did. His tongue dueled with mine and I felt cool fingers sliding under my T-shirt and moving up my body. This was real, it was actually happening to me, my mind was torn between the amazing sensations he was causing and a desperate urge to break and run. But I was like a ragdoll, I no longer had control over the muscles in my arms and legs. "Please..." I croaked again.
He sat up, pulling away from me and in one deft movement stripped off both his shirt and tank top. I caught my breath, he was as well built as I had thought and very nearly matched the mental image I had built up from furtive glances and accidental contact. Beautifully symmetrical, large solid looking pecs with dime-sized nipples, a perfect six pack, he was glorious. The scene still had an air of unreality to me, but I was transfixed by him and by his wonderful, gentle, smile.
"Relax." He whispered. "I want you to enjoy this."
I nodded and bit my lower lip apprehensively. Two days ago I wouldn't have been caught dead in a position like this. He pulled my T-shirt gently up my body, exposing my comparatively unimpressive muscles to the cool of the room and gave a low whistle.
"You're beautiful, Josh."
"Me?"
"You." He whispered as he leant over me again and began to swirl his broad, talented tongue around my left nipple, I tensed and arched my back at the sensation, a gasp escaped my lips, he pressed down gently on my belly. "Relax."
"Oh God!" I moaned as his fingers slid up my rib cage. His lips and tongue moved across my chest to my other nipple, causing the same sudden burst of electricity as before. I became aware of the sensation from my groin as my cock strained to escape from the confining fabric of my jeans. He seemed to sense my need, his fingers traveled back down to my waist as his lips moved further up kissing my throat. I felt the top button being released and the others quickly followed, but I was not to be granted relief just yet. He stilled his hands and kissed his way along the underside of my jaw, round my chin and back to my mouth, which accepted him eagerly this time. I brought my arms, barely under my control, up and round his back and pulled him down longing to feel his smooth, bare skin and the adamant muscles beneath moving against me.
For the longest time we clung to one another like that simply moving gently and kissing with ferocious passion. I felt as though my lips were bruising as he came up for air and kissed my forehead. "Okay?" I could only nod dumbly. He smiled at me and traced a line down my belly with his fingers, I closed my eyes and sighed, he hooked the waistband of my shorts and suddenly his hand was inside and my erection felt the touch of another human for the first time ever. My eyes flew open, I had known that's where he was going, but nothing could have prepared me for how good it felt. He stroked me lightly back and forth a few times, stretching and releasing the skin and I felt a tightening in my balls.
"Mark..." I managed to choke out, my voice rising to pre-pubescent pitch.
"What?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stopped moving altogether, released my aching cock and slid his hand back out. He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. "What's up? Actually, forget it, I know what's up." He grinned.
"Mark..." I whispered again, a tinge of desperation in my strained voice.
"You want something?"
"God, yes!" I barked out a sound as much a laugh as it was actual words.
"Okay." He turned his gaze from mine, and pulling the two flaps of denim aside encouraged me to lift my butt a little so he could slide my jeans down. While my back was still arched he pulled the shorts away too and I was suddenly naked with another man, utterly exposed, totally helpless. "You sure?" I didn't know what to think. I knew there was no way back from what I was about to let him do, for the rest of my life I would know that I had lost my virginity with a man. I would have to live with that, it couldn't be undone, and eventually the consequences would have to be dealt with. For now though all I could think about was how desperately I craved release. I nodded my assent.
I only had the sketchiest idea of what two men did together. Needless to say the good Reverend didn't go into too much detail in his sermons, and the lurid accounts I had heard from friends seemed too implausible for words. I guess if I'd thought about it I would have realized it wouldn't be that different to what women did with men. But I was still shocked into a sitting position when Mark's mouth closed over the head of my cock. His strong fingers took the remaining inches and began a gentle rhythmic stroking as his other hand pressed me back into a recumbent position. Gently the stroking hand was withdrawn and the whole of my length disappeared into his mouth. His hand began to roll my balls gently and that combined with the sucking of his mouth was too much for me. For the third time I said his name, this time though there was nothing hesitant about it, it was a full blooded cry.
"Mark!" I came as explosively as I had the previous night. It seemed to go on forever, the whole time he continued to play with my cock and balls, milking as much cum out of me as possible it seemed. My back arched, my fists grabbed handfuls of his sheets, and every muscle in my body twanged. When the sensation passed, I collapsed onto his narrow bed, my body soaked in sweat, I had felt nothing like it, never believed it would feel so good. I felt drained, and allowed my eyes to close until I could get my breathing and heart rate down to something less like a hummingbird's.
"Hey." A man's voice whispered by my ear. "Wake up, stud." I came slowly to my senses and realized that I had fallen asleep. Mark was lying alongside me, still naked from the waist up, my head resting in the crook of one of his arms, the other draped across my belly. He'd pulled a blanket over me and lain there like that for God knows how long. My first thought on waking was that he'd got nothing out of it all, then it was that my parents were due back, I panicked.
"Oh, God! What time is it?" I demanded of him. He looked slightly confused. "My parents!" It wasn't much of an explanation. I struggled to untangle myself from the blanket and hauled my jeans back on. He propped himself on one elbow and watched me frantically hunt for my sneakers, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I thought you were going to relax."
"Relax? If my parents find me here? Oh, God!" I finally found my other shoe and thrust my foot into it. "I have to go!"
"Okay." He nodded, looking a little sad, but the sparkle quickly returned to his eyes as we both heard a car pulling into the lot. "But you have to do something first." He swung his legs off the bed.
"There's no time!" I reached for the handle of the door but before I could open it more than a crack, he was across the room, leaning on it, blocking my exit. "Oh, God, Mark! Please, you don't understand." I grabbed his arms and pulled but he was too strong for me.
"Josh! Calm down. What looks better? Hmm? Going back over in five minutes or bolting out of here in a panic?" He had a point. I could say we were talking about bikes or something. My parents had no reason whatsoever to think anything untoward might have happened. I let go his arms. "Now, before you leave, you have to do something for me."
"What?" I dreaded to think what he was about to ask of me. He grinned evilly.
"Give me a hug."
"That's all?" I was astonished.
"That's all." I stepped closer and nuzzled against him, my first lover, the man who had been so gentle with me, who had made me a man too. Emotions I couldn't put names to rushed through me. "Now go, and be cool." He stepped away from the door. I reached up and pulled him to me for one more slow kiss before leaving the cabin. Outside, the air was cold and a wind was beginning to pick up. I crossed the lot to my home, feeling empty inside and suddenly very alone.
I didn't see him the following morning before I left for school, apparently he wasn't awake, but when I returned that afternoon his bike was gone. I felt my stomach lurch and a sick feeling knotted like a fist in my guts. I had though about him all day, hoped against hope he'd be there when I got back, but part of me had already known he wouldn't be. I set about my chores with a heavy heart, taking clean bedding over to his cabin, cleaning it for the next customer. On top of the dresser he had left his sunglasses, I picked them up and turned them over and over in my hands. Under them was a slip of paper, written neatly on which were the words:
"You'll need these when you get your bike. See you around, stud."
Continued in CHECKING OUT...