The sun goes down just a little earlier this time of year. Eight o'clock and it's getting dark out. Outside the window from my living room, I can see headlights and taillights from the highway trickling by. No longer rush hour, the traffic was pretty sparse. During the peak hours, even though separated by a mile or more of woods, a wetland and an open field, the noise was more than evident-it was almost a nuisance. But hey, that's the trade-off for having convenient access. I wasn't really bothered by the noise anyway�after the first week it blended into the background much like the incessant chirping of the birds in the morning. Now THAT is a nuisance!
My house is not new, I think it was built about forty years ago. I rent it from a couple who moved to the cities a year ago. I love the location, the seclusion and the whole wooded setting. Even though I do have neighbors, I sunbathe regularly, and I have no tanlines to show for it, if you catch my drift. Yep. Naked. The neighbors are never home during the day, so I risk it. There was the one time however when the gas guy came to read the meter�I didn't see him until it was WAY too late. I covered up with my t-shirt quick, but only after he had the occasion to gawk at my naked body. Not that my body is inspiring or anything, it was just his surprise at what he saw, I imagine. I was SO embarrassed! I probably would have been much less embarrassed had I not been stroking my rigid cock at the moment, but hey, shit happens then you cover up. Anyway, lesson learned. I put up a privacy fence the next week. I can laugh about the encounter now. Barely.
I opened the window and breathed in the cool air. Perfect running weather it is. I finished off a slice of pizza and took my running shorts from the closet, sliding the black spandex shorts up my legs and pulling them up to my waist, carefully tucking in my "package" so that the bulge was less evident. I think it's pretty gross to see the outline of a guys' unit in his shorts, to clearly see the outline of the head, shaft and balls; so I tuck myself in. It gives me a little more support, too, which is why I go with spandex. Not that I ever have to worry about my eight inches bouncing free and slapping me in the forehead, but regular gym shorts really don't offer any support. I took off my shirt and replaced it with a loose-fitting tank top. I've worked hard to maintain the body I have and I don't mind showing it off. My legs are strong from running and biking and have the look of a soccer player's, or so I'd been told. My upper body has never been too bulky, more of a swimmer's build I guess, kind of slight. Lacing up my running shoes, I glance in the mirror; my shoulder length hair failing in front of my face. I look good. I wouldn't be conceited enough to say that out loud, but I know I look good. I brush the hair out of my eyes and grabbed a rubber band, pulling my hair into a pony-tail. I began putting my hair in a pony-tail in the summer after fighting with sweat-soaked hair getting into my eyes, in my face. It became a real bother to me. Another runner suggested it and I like it much better that way. When I'm not running, my hair is back to normal.
With the sun now down behind the cover of the woods and almost lost to the horizon, daylight had all but disappeared. There were no lights on the road I lived except one at the intersection of my street and the other that wound around the lake. Even thought there are no paths, I love running around the lake. Traffic is minimal and the scenery is awesome! There is a park at the other end of the lake, and I can do the whole circuit in just under an hour. While I've never actually clocked the course I take, I've guessed it to be about five miles. On the other side of the park, I hook up with a bike trail that leads back in the general direction of my house. Like I said, it's about five miles, and I take it pretty leisurely. I'm not out to run a marathon, though I could, I simply run for toning and conditioning. "Got to maintain my girlish figure," I joke to myself.
Out on my street, I begin by walking the half-block to the intersection with Lake Drive. The moment I turn onto Lake Drive, as I have done every other time this summer, I begin the jog and don't usually stop until I reach my front door, an hour later. Now a few minutes into the jog, I feel very refreshed. It's almost time, I consider, to expand the route, maybe pick up another mile or two. But not today. The lake is calm-no boats, no swimmers, no activity except the family of ducks that live along the south shore. Every so often old man Johnson is on the lake fishing. He waves if he sees me, and I wave back, but today it's quiet. Two cars pass me by, one in either direction. While I've only been in the neighborhood a year, I've come to know most of the residents by virtue of my jogs. Mrs. Kerkowski, bless her heart, gave me a bag of strawberries last week. I ate them as I continued on, albeit at a walking pace.
A motorcycle rumbled in the distance, the sound of which could only be attributed to an American bike. I can tell a Harley from Honda, but beyond that I have no clue--all Japanese bikes kind of sound the same to me. The bike rolled by me a moment or two later, its brake light flashed as it rounded the next corner then it disappeared out of sight. All quiet again, except for the frogs on one side of the road and the crickets on the other. For the most part, the lake is hidden on the east side by large willows but you can see bits of the water in between the trees. On the other side of the road, the houses are set back quite far and quite obscured by a thick planting of sumac, then a mature planting of lilacs. Beyond the lilacs are the centuries-old oak and elms which provide a nice wooded, if not forested, feel to the neighborhood.
It wasn't until maybe five minutes later that I sensed something amiss. I had turned the corner where the road pulls away from the lake a bit and where the homes give way to woods. The moon was not quite full and not yet high enough in the sky to compensate for the loss of sunlight, but it was enough to see the road in front of me. On nights where there was no moon, this stretch became quite dark�there were no visible houselights, no driveway lights, nothing. Not once have I felt unsafe however, lights or no lights. I'm a guy and this is practically the country. The park is less than a quarter-mile ahead, which is lighted. This evening I just had the feeling that I should pick up the pace�call it a hunch.
Before I had an opportunity to discount my foolish worries, the wind was knocked from me all of a sudden from an unseen impact which propelled me straight into the sumac, my body rolling to a stop under the canopy of short trees. I shrieked in pain once I regained my breath, and in so doing quickly clutched my left side. Each breath brought forth a piercing pain in my chest�a rib, no doubt, or two were broken and my ankle definitely twisted up. I could feel it. I could not see it but certainly felt the dull throb in between the piercing pain in my side. I attempted to sit up, but as I did another blow was landed upon me, striking my cheekbone squarely and with enough force to set me back down on my back. A hand was forcibly put to my mouth and a knee dropped upon my right arm; new pain joining the collection of others.
Barely able to breathe, I heard the voice whisper close to my ear, "Shut the fuck up and you just may live. Scream, and piss me off, and I'll drag your ass to the lake and bury your face underwater. Understand?" he said in a menacingly evil whisper.
He removed his hand slowly and I began to get a good look at the man now on top of me. A motorcycle, the same Harley that had just passed me, was leaning up against a tree, but far enough into the trees so as to be unseen from the road.
"I don't have any money," I pleaded, "please let me go!" His expression, or what I could make of it, was more surprise or shock than anything.
"You're a fuckin guy! Fuck! You run like a girl and you dress like one too, you fuckin BITCH." He slapped my face as he said bitch. "Well I don't fucking care, you prissy-ass boy; when I drove by and saw you running, I knew I could take you, and I'm GONNA take you! He grabbed my hair and pulled hard, releasing his knee-hold on my arm in the process. I guessed the guy had a least a hundred pounds on me; I knew I could not fight him off, but I could certainly run. At that very moment as he pulled my head back, with my free arm I pushed him back off balance and broke free from his grip, jumping to my feet in preparation for my escape. My first step was on my twisted ankle and I went down hard landing face first in the underbrush. He was on top of me again just as quickly as I had broken free, and between the pain in my side, the pain in my ankle and the fear of what was happening, I cried out, "Please don't hurt me, please!" But my words were muffled by the dirt as I laid face down under his weight.
"You bitch--if you make one more move like that and it'll be your last" and with that, pulled back again on my hair, straining my head back to one side so that I could plainly see him, see his rage. "Understand?" The words would not come to me; I simply nodded my head. He pulled a knife from his pants, opened it before my eyes and held the cold blade against my cheek. "Don't you fucking move," he growled. He forced my face back into the dirt as I felt the knife scratch against my leg and felt my shorts rip away from my body in one thrust. "If you wanna run around like a woman, you can get fucked like a woman! I squeezed my eyes shut, tears wetting the earth, anticipating what I knew was about to happen. He unzipped his fly and rolled me over onto my back so that I could see his cock hanging out of his pants.
"But first, let's you and me engage in some foreplay, OK bitch? And you'd better be good!" I shook my head, mouth closed, eyes still clenched shut. I felt his hand slap against the side of my head and felt his cockhead at my lips, forcing it inward. I was unable to move or react in any way with the full weight of his body upon me, his knees on my arms. I felt a kick from his boot strike near my groin and I gasped at the sudden pain, his cock entering my mouth in the process. I gagged as he thrust it deep in my mouth, pushing at the back of my throat.
"Suck it, bitch; suck it like you want it� you know you want it don't you, bitch?" I had never sucked a man's cock before, had never even considered the thought. But I sucked and licked his cock, I had no choice if I wanted to breathe, if I wanted to live, I had to go along with his orders. He thrust his cock in and out of my mouth repeatedly, raping my mouth, each thrust driving deep into my throat. I could feel his cock grow harder in my mouth. I used my tongue to keep from having it push so deep into my mouth, and that seemed to satisfy him while allowing me to breathe. I tightened my lips around his shaft and ran my tongue over and across his head, resigning myself to getting this over with as quickly as possible. I licked his cock and sucked it, and maybe, I hate to admit this to anyone, and would never admit this to the police if I survived, but maybe I was beginning to like it. The thought repulsed me and I pushed it out of my head. I could not, however, hide or ignore the stirring within my own groin, still aching from his kick.
The pace of his thrusts quickened, and I could sense he was about to cum, which he did with the deepest thrust yet, gagging me and filling my mouth with his hot, salty cum which spilled out of the corners of my mouth. He loudly groaned and pulled out of my mouth while I coughed and gasped for air. Swiftly he got off me, observed my semi-erect dick and laughed, "See, you DO like it! You're a prissy slut and you enjoy sucking cock!" he said this in the most humiliating tone possible and pushed me back over onto my stomach. He positioned himself behind me, the weight of his body on his knees which rested on my legs, holding my spread legs firmly in place. With my hands free, I covered up my face while still tasting his sticky cum in my mouth as I spit it out to the dirt. "You're gonna like this, bitch, maybe as much as you liked blowing me!"
His still hard cock pushed at my tight, virgin asshole. My body was tense and I felt the pain of his probing cock enter my ass. Still wet from my saliva and his cum, he forced his cock into my asshole as I screamed out in pain and agony. He slapped me again, reminding me to shut the fuck up and to enjoy the ride. He thrust into my ass deeply, seemingly tearing every inch of tissue in the process. My hands were pressed over my mouth holding back the screams and that's where it all went black. I drifted away, disconnected from everything. I felt nothing.
I awoke in my own bed, disoriented for a moment, eyes shifting about the room. My hand went between my legs and felt the stickiness of the cum, felt and heard the vibrator still humming next to my leg. I exhaled deeply, an exhale of relief, of the realization that it had all been a dream. The events of the previous evening all flooded back at the same time. I had ordered a pizza and had drank a couple beers (ok, more than a couple) and was watching a porno on pay-per-view, and decided to give my ass a good workout with my vibrator. I must have fallen asleep while pleasuring myself because my cum was everywhere and I don't recall it happening. The memories of the man on the motorcycle quickly faded as I became more awake, although I still felt violated in some way, as if I were raped in my dream. And for reasons that I still do not understand, I got a hard-on just thinking about that, about being forced against my will to fuck and suck some guy. And so I stroked myself to another orgasm while pushing the vibrator back into my ass.
Chalk it up to pizza, beer and an over-active imagination.