"I spy, with my little eye; something greyed and wrinkled. Tim spoke, as Steve stood in curiosity but said nothing. "I spy, with my little eye, something that is hidden." There was no response. Tim waited for a reply but there was only silence except of passing cars. "I spy, with my little eye, dirty rugged curves." His friend Steve couldn't take it anymore. "What are you going on about?" He questioned with a raised brow. Tim was now satisfied. "It's a game of minimal risk and can be highly addictive," Tim added. "Seriously, you need medication." A slight giggle escaped from Tim's lips. "Do you see that guy standing over there by the other bus shelter wearing a black and white stripped sweater?" Steve took a moment to look in the direction that would appease his friend, "Okay, what about him?" "Don't you ever watch people? I mean, I stand at the bus stop and watch guys walk by all the time and think of all their daily stories. For example; That guy over there may look well-dressed and in control, but I can tell you, him and his girlfriend had a falling out last night, and although he may look fine, deep down, he's scared that he is not going to get a piece of ass regularly, anymore." "And you know this how?" Steve played along. I have this gift of knowing people by imagining what stories are hidden within the bulge in their pants. There's a lot to be said about how a man shows off his manhood underneath his rugged khakis, dress pants or denim." Tim was mortified at the outcry of honesty, and it scared him. "Oh my God. After all this time together, I find out the truth. You're a psychic, and a pervert." Tim held back his laughter and continued, "That explains the other night at Greg's." With Steve's wild eye's of uncontrollable laughter that couldn't suppress any further, he waited for a rebuttal from Tim. "No. It doesn't. That was a one-time experience. I'm trying to forget about it." He tried to minimize his guilt by justifying. "Seriously though, I would be careful; not everyone needs to know that you are a slave to your sexual and psychic addiction." With only seconds of silence, he vocalized his words to anyone who would listen, "Tim's a pervert." Neighboring eyes looked at the two of them waiting in line for the bus to pull up to the stop. Steve poked him on the arm, laughing all the while, pushing. He walked toward the back, but held his distance in the middle as he watched Steve continue to walk pass him towards the back to sit down. He acknowledged him while dismissing the invitation to sit with him; he took the moment to himself. Tim wasn't surprised that the bus was busy at this time of day, and he knew sooner or later someone would have to get up from their seat. He decided to stand a while holding onto the bright yellow pole scoping out all the passengers seated in perfect rows now. To pass the time, he figured that he would play a game of elimination. It was a game that was played many times over and had different outcomes each time. Today he felt a bit destructive in nature, so he let his imagination take over. The bus closed its doors and started to move from the platform. The game was now on. On the verge of his imagination, he figured that there was going to be a horrific accident, leaving only a few survivors. The scene on his mind played out. If the bus crashed, it would leave everyone dead, except ten male survivors. The fun of elimination game was to decide who would be the one sole survivor whom he would like to sleep with? Firstly, he would have to validate all ten survivors by their masculine figures, and before eliminating one by one, he had to decipher which ones he thought were gay and which of them were straight. Of course gay men would be much easier to fulfill sexual desires, but the challenge of a straight man would be an exceptional high. His mood played the erotic of affection, today, rather than the sexual deed itself. Three men were eliminated right from the start. They stood at the front of the bus in a group and shadowed the look of three bulky truck drivers. There was no questioning that they were all straight. He could envision them leaving the bus to meet up with their other beefy beer-drinking buddies to watch the NFL game on the big screen in some dirty low down bar. The count was down to seven very quickly. Two others were eliminated instantly because they had beards that were left to the wilds and not groomed. The count was down to five. The game was on and was getting more difficult with the choices he had to make. Two guys were university students who sat next to one another; all dressed up in their designer clothes. Before reckoning a decision, Tim relished the sexual concourse of the two of them experimenting with each other in their dorm room. Although it was sexually appealing, it was also the inexperience of love, lust and passion that lost the vote. He marveled in the sexual intimacy of the dream, but ultimately, it left the countdown to three. He moved on to the others while keeping their fresh figures in his mind. It wasn't long before Tim's eyes bore a stare at man in his early forty's sitting beside a Vietnamese woman holding two shopping bags between her legs. The man had his faced turned toward the window, and all Tim could see was his perfectly groomed dark-brown hair that kept a wave of bangs to one side. Eyes roamed further down to a navy blue T-shirt that read Randle's Quest Mechanics.'. It held his perfectly muscular frame inside. His eyes continued to sight his crotch area, and within his button fly dark denim, a mound of fabric indicated nothing short of worship. He wondered for a moment, if he was straight, but to be honest, it really didn't matter because of the tingling in his groin, he was experiencing. An inside grin sparked an alert because he couldn't believe that the game of elimination was actually making his manhood rise. It was supposed to be a game of innocent make-believe and not sexual fulfillment. His eyes continued to devour every pixel and while his eyes never averted the smooth mound of denim, someone had accidentally nudged him forward caused by the sway of the bus. He heard a soft gentlemanly, "sorry." With disregards to the person's clumsiness, Tim didn't look around; He only smiled in courtesy. Never averting his attention from the game, he continued to stare at the manly figure sitting in just below him. Tim had to move his gaze onto other things because with the constant stare of curiosity, his cock was beginning to show the shape through his jeans. With a billboard sign that read Child Pornography Abuse' just above his head, it did not lessen the stimulation he was hoping for. Thankfully, the bus came to a complete stop, and his Mr. Mechanic turned his face away from the window to look forward, and with a shocking surprise, a sigh escaped Tim's mouth. The man's flow of wavy hair, and perfectly erotic frame, turned out to be only a disguise of a God-like statuette. His facial features were quite shocking in respects to the pale blue eyes that were almost closed from what seemed like too many drugs and the lack of sleep. The upper lip shadowed a forest of hairs that grew out from his shiny nose. He knew he was over exaggerating, but defined his Mr. Mechanic, now, unappealing. It took every effort not to suggest a facial cream for oily skin, or directions to the corner discount store to purchase a nose hair trimmer. The game was still on, and the countdown back at three. The bus turned the corner and was coming to a complete stop when Mr. Mechanic stood up from his seat and walked toward the exit door, taking the Vietnamese woman with him. Tim did not hesitate to move into the vacant spot before fresh arrivals took over, giving him a brand new comfortable perspective of his surroundings. He still had to locate a winner. Within seconds, an almost full-frontal view of two possible contestants was sitting next to one another in the courtesy handicap seats ahead of him. Beneath their feet were RW and Monaco's bags, and one of the guys with blonde hair pulled out a watch and was trying to remove it from its casing. His more dominated passenger took it from his and helped his friend put it on his wrist. When they looked at one another, there was an instant fairy dust glittering all around them. It did not take an education or further deduction to answer the question, if they were queer. It was obvious the two young freshly queers were hungry for one another. It was kind of gross, yet proudly satisfying. Because of the once upon a time and happily ever after a fairy tale of gayness, it was conclusive that they were eliminated from the game. The game was down to one. While standing and holding onto the rails only moments ago, a gentleman took the seat next to Tim. Politely, Tim moved his body frame over to allow the man the comfort within his own space. He had always appreciated boundary's. They both smiled. It was tenderly shocking when the man sat down that his right leg presumably and possibly, accidentally brushed against his own. The warmth and bold touch that connected them sent erogenous impulses to places that were inappropriate in pubic. Still, Tim did not mind. At least, this time he was sitting. He instinctively tried to move his head to the left in order to catch a glance of the stranger beside him, but without becoming obvious. Tim was afraid that any sudden movements or invasion might result in the man reacting out of discomfort and removing his leg from his, so he opted to stay focused straight ahead. It didn't matter if the stranger was intentionally flirting or utterly rude and disrespectful; he was enjoying the sensation of his touch too much. Explicit sexual fantasies culminated around in his head against the heat from this stranger's leg as it continued to press firmly against his. Should he move his leg out of respect? Maybe it was his own fault, and the guy felt uncomfortable. Was this stranger thinking the same thing as him? Was there a dirty secret of seduction at play between them? It was weird that Tim asked these questions to himself because, for starters, he hadn't ever seen what the guy looked like. He had to know. All that Tim knew was; in the moment, his cock grew to full hardness. If it took only a touch from this stranger's leg, then he must be validated as the winner. With all the distractions playing crazy in his head, he had wondered, only for a moment, if Steve was watching him. Could he see what was happening from behind? In a deep baritone voice that plunged Tim into a state of panic, the words "Sorry" escaped from Mr. Perfect's mouth again, as his hand accidentally brushed against his while searching for an item in his pocket. It took every effort for Tim not to grab hold of the man's hand and place it on his rock-hard crotch. It was shameful that he could even be that horny. Releasing a load inside of his denim, would have taken no effort at all; especially if this rugged stranger touched him one more time. With slight hesitation, yet amplified curiosity, he finally had the chance to look into the man's eyes. He pretended to scope the area as if looking for some landmark and when he met with his face, a story unfolded that could only be described as forbidden. Short dark-brown hair and moustache showed elegance in care, and skin as smooth freshly woven silk that encased deep hypnotizing blue eyes, would dance in his mind forever. As if there were nothing else humanly possible to add to this perfection; his body frame of maturity ruled him as the dominate. Adding to his manly physic, carefully trimmed eyebrows scored a mask of intelligence and sophistication that conceals the innocence of his wanting erotic desires. Was this person even real? As Tim's heart raced within his chest, desperately he hoped that his guilty desires were not only his. However lustful, he could not bring himself to advance; he merely nodded the in the acceptance of touch and waited the journey to carry them on to the next bus stop. Tim slowly led his arm to his side and nervously ran his hand down his own leg to symbolize the act of erotic touch. He thought that if Mr. Perfect was at all serious, then he would pick up on the gesture and maybe, just maybe, volunteer his intent. When the bus came to a complete stop once again, Tim knew it was over. The next stop was his and there was no way that he could miss it. Steve would be furious. He was already disappointed that he hadn't joined him at the back of the bus, but knew, that he would be forgiven once he told the strangely erotic tale of Mr.Perfect. With a surprisingly end to his tale, Tim watched his lustful friend from strained eyes, placing his hand on his own crotch and giving himself a small squeeze. It was casual enough to go un-noticed, but with watchful eyes, it was a revelation of intent. Instant rockets blared overhead as Tim's cock throbbed inside his jeans and the only thing that he could do was to smile. "Excuse me, this is my stop." Mr. Perfect spoke.
"Seriously, that's okay. Talk about bumping into each other?" Tim was disheartened and embarrassed by the lame comment, but knew he couldn't do anything about that now. "We have to stop meeting like this." The stranger smiled to Tim's surprise. "I could meet you a thousand times and would enjoy it every-time." As if that wasn't subtle, he thought? As the doors opened and everyone stepped forwards off the bus, Mr. Perfect moved away from the exit and stood in hopes that Tim would too.
From a shock-wave of desire, he did just that; Tim wasn't about to let this moment go by. He reached into his wallet to remove a card. Feeling weak in the knees from his obvious intent, Tim couldn't stop himself from shaking. "I don't have a pen. However, this is my work number. Maybe we can go out sometime?" Steve walked straight pass them, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "Sure that would be great. My name is Roger. "Tim, we need to get going. Greg is meeting us at four o'clock. We are going to be late if we don't get a move on." "Sorry. This is Steve, my annoying friend" Tim introduced, with only a nod of recognition, and continued, "We really have to go. Call my work and we can set up a time to meet." Tim's eyes instinctively gazed upon Roger's bulge. It was an image he wanted to stay in his mind, until they meet again. "I would like that." Roger announced. Barely back from cloud nine, Tim walked down the street to catch a connecting bus that would take them to Greg's. It didn't take long before Steve begged for all the dirty details, and before he could reminisce the seduction, Tim returned his gaze once again, watching the perfect man walk away.