The Dreamer

Standing in my front garden in a late August afternoon in Central Texas, I feel sweat run from my face all the way down my body. It was hot and, in spite of a cool beer in one hand and a water hose in the other, there was just no escaping it.

Reduced by the heat to sweaty puddles, most normal citizens try to limit their outdoor activities to a minimum, only those which are deemed absolutely necessary to sustain existence. It seemed that our parched front garden was one that my wife had declared "absolutely necessary" for existence. Our son was excused from these activities because of school activities, so the job of watering was left to me.

"This isn't necessary for my existence," I grumbled to myself as the hot sun beat down on me. Suddenly capturing my vision was what at first appeared to be a mirage. Mirages, to those in the American Southwest, are common in the afternoon sun. They are illusions which appear out of nowhere; then tantalize the viewer briefly, but quickly disappearing.

My mirage appeared as a scantily clad young man straining up the incline of our

street toward where I stood. With his body leaning slightly forward, he was using his arms as pistons to drive his gleaming, muscular form. This mirage did not disappeared.

I gulped at my beer; oblivious to the spray from the hose suddenly hitting my feet.

Approaching me was a ruggedly handsome man. Even a straight man, such as me I thought, could recognize and appreciate physical perfection.

As he grew closer I could see that the man's blonde curls were plastered to his forehead, his dark chest hair gleamed, and a thin river of dark curls spread down from his navel to the waist band of his scanty, white running shorts. Stunned by my own reaction to the sight of him, I stood immobile while sweat formed on my upper lip and my breath become shallow.

The closer he got I could see tiny drop-like beads of sweat covering his shoulders and chest. His pectoral muscles rose from his sculpted torso, each mound capped with a round, dark nipple. Above the waist band of his shorts, I could see his taunt stomach muscles expand and contract with each breath. Between his legs the sleek fabric had molded over a large bulge which rolled from side to side with every step.

"I like the way you think." My mirage spoke. I was startled by the dark resonance of his voice, which was accompanied by a change in his expression from determination to quizzical.

"Huh?" I sounded through my parched lips, more an animal grunt than response. Jolted from my revere, red shades of embarrassment flooded my cheeks. My arm instinctively brought the beer to my mouth as a defense gesture against my eyes, which remained fixed on his crotch.

"The beer," he spoke, pausing directly in front of me. "That looks like a great idea. I think I'll have one when I get home." Then he extended his hand, "I'm Mike."

"Oh," I muttered, my face growing redder, not from exposure to the hot sun, but exposure to his cool, blue eyes. Lifting my eyes to meet his, I stood frozen with only the sound of my pounding heart filling my head. There were beads of sweat on his dark lashes. "Uh, yeah, I'm Don," I finally replied, ignoring the extended hand.

"Well," he said, breaking the silence and flashing an obviously amused smile, "I'd better be off then." One pale blue eye winked just before he turned to continue his jog.

Still in the shock and with rising embarrassment at my reaction to him, I turned my body so I could watch him as he quickly strutted away. The rear of his white nylon suit was pasted to round, shapely butt cheeks, each moving in concert with his legs. One side of his shorts had risen in the crack of his ass to partially expose a tan line across the bottom of a well rounded mound. His jogging costume appeared to have no liner and an obvious wet streak had formed between each butt cheek.

I watched until his image left me. Two blocks down the street he made a turn down a side street and, I was sure, glanced back in my direction. It wasn't until then that I felt the breath rush from my tight chest. Looking down I realized that I was standing in water, my shoes wet from the soaking I'd given them. It was also not until then that I noticed my hardened cock tenting out in my shorts. "Had he noticed?" I wondered.

Slowly turning from the garden, I walked back toward my house while shaking my head in an attempt to clear from my mind what I'd just experienced. But, despite my efforts, images of the young man stayed with me all evening until sleep swept them away.

The next day at my job my concentration continued to fail me. I couldn't contain my thoughts of the young man. I eventually tried to analyze the encounter in an effort to put some distance between the image and my feelings. But nothing was working.

Thoughts that I had suppressed for years flooded from my memory. Memories of a dark night at a lake where a college buddy and I had swum naked together emerged around carefully constructed barriers. Feelings of slippery, wet male flesh touching my own continued to interrupt my day. I remembered the feel of swollen cocks touching together in the water, the uncontrolled excitement of tongues probing inexperienced mouths.

I had walked away from that night determined that one encounter would not spoil the plans I had for my life. A marriage, soon followed by the birth of a son, framed the stable, successful life that I had planned.

As the day slowly passed, I began to hope for another encounter with the stranger in my garden. I feared that, offended by my awkward staring the afternoon before, he would never pass my way again. Then I became afraid that he would come and, like Pandora 's Box, a lifetime of suppressed memories and regrets would be set loose.

Anxiety gripped me as the clock hands moved toward day's end and what I knew would be an afternoon of unrest. I planned to have several drinks with dinner hoping for an early bedtime.

The next afternoon I stood in my garden again. Like in a dream, I once again saw him running up the hill towards me wearing the same white shorts. His muscled thighs, with their covering of light fur, churned propelling him toward me. In the glimmering sun sweat rolled down his temples.

Once again I stood transfixed at the sight of the swaying bulge beneath the thin fabric of his shorts. He looked upward towards me and, with a flicker of recognition, his mouth broadened into a smile.

"Got a beer for me today, buddy?" he asked, slowing to where I stood. My throat was dry, my tongue thick, I slurred, "Yes, behind those shrubs, in the shade, to keep it cool." I gestured to the large clump of shrubs beside the garden. "How could he have anticipated my planning?" I thought.

"First, let me cool down a bit," he spoke and reached to take the garden hose from my hand. He raised the hose to lift the nozzle above his head; arching his head backwards. Water ran across his forehead, down his face, and cascaded over his muscular chest and flat stomach before finally streaming down his hips and legs.

The white nylon of his jogging shorts turned transparent with wetness. A dark smear of pubic hair boldly showed through the wet suit. Prodding below the dark mass was his thick cock, the shape of which lay molded against the wet fabric. It was now obvious to Don that the suit had no liner. Smiling, the man returned the hose. "That's better. Now I'll have that beer."

I laid the hose on the ground. Stepping backward I turned towards the cluster of shrubs beneath the large oak tree. He followed me as we slipped through the brush to a small clearing under the oak. This was my private place.

I had left an opened can of beer on the ground at the base of the tree,. "Ahh, there you are," he muttered, kneeling to the ground while taking the beer in his hand. He turned to sit. His knees bent upward with his feet flat on the ground. He took a sip of beer.

I stood, wordless, looking at the vision before me. I could see peering from between his opened legs the dark purplish head of his cock. "Sit beside me Don," he patted the ground at his side. My legs, already shaking, nearly collapsed as I lowered myself to the spot where he had patted.

"Do you like what you see Don?" he whispered. I could only mumble in reply.

My lips formed "Mike," but no sound emerged. My ears were filled with a roaring 'shhhh'.

Mike took another gulp of his beer while watching me attentively. Unable to resist, I remained staring at his cock head peeking from the shorts. Nothing was spoken between us. I watched fascinated while the purple head slowly inflated and began to lift forward. It was large. Free from the shorts, the shaft crept outward and upward.

He shifted to open his legs wider and spoke in a whisper, "Something is getting restless."

Nearly breathless my heart tapped a staccato beneath my chest as my hand reached tentatively toward his massive pole. When my fingers touched the skin it jumped at my touch. I head the sudden intake of air between his lips.

"After yesterday I thought you might be interested in that, Don," he whispered. "Don't be afraid, you've got nothing to be afraid of."

"I don't do this," I heard myself whisper.

"There's always a first time for everything, buddy," he replied with a smile.

Tentatively wrapping my fingers around his cock, I felt the turgid, distending pole twitch in my palm. I felt his heart beat through the shaft.

It was hard to breathe. My eyes fixed on the swollen rod; I could barely enclose my fingers around it. At the tip its head flared like a plum ripe for picking. The glistening slit on the end appeared to speak an invitation.

"Kiss it, I know you want to kiss it," Mike whispered towards me. I turned to look into his clear blue eyes, now hungry.

Slowly bending downward, I brought my lips to a stop just above the bulging head. Pausing to take a deep, uneven breath, my tongue timidly parted my lips to reach towards his cock head. I felt hot skin brush against my probe. I licked twice, then three times. The massive object jerked with each lick. A deep moan broke through his mouth.

Then, more boldly, my tongue's flat surface licked over the entire head, taking in the slight taste of salt from the clear bubble of liquid nestling in the crack at the end. Relishing the feel of the ridges around the base of his head, my tongue lapped in circular motions.

"Suck me, I need you to suck me," he spoke quietly, his breath ragged.

With a sudden panic, I pulled away, "I can't. I want to, but I can't. I have a family," I muttered uncertainly. I knew my protesting meant nothing to him.

Suddenly, in one abrupt motion I felt myself flipped backwards by him while with another motion he leaped on my chest. His weight was heavy and I was pinned.

Bending towards my face, the lips of his beautiful mouth parted into a sneer. He spoke with a different voice. "Yes, you can suck it, I know you want it." He moved so that his knees pressed against my skull. He jerked down the waist of his short and his cock sprung free. With his hand he pressed it downward, rubbing against my closed lips. "Now take it bitch, swallow my cock."

I resisted, shaking my head from side to side, my lips clamped shut. His pressing knees hurt my ears. His fingers clamped firmly on both sides of my jaw. Under the strength of his fingers, I slackened my mouth and he pushed his cock downward through my lips, between my teeth, and into my mouth.

"Now suck it, you little prick whore." His face was no longer beautiful. It had reddened, and a vein bulged across his forehead. His mouth and jaw were taut. He became the determined runner, straining up the hill.

The beautiful young man had changed. There was steely ferocity and he seemed dangerous.

My arms flopped uselessly on the ground. He pushed his cock deeper into my mouth, further into my throat. I gagged as it reached the back of my throat. "Open your throat, take it all" he snarled at me.

Gagging, I felt his hard cock pressing down me. I gagged again and again. Tears formed at the corner of my eyes and rolled down each side of my face. I gasped for air, but none came. I felt as though I was drowning. I was going to suffocate lying here on the ground, pressed beneath this god-beast.

"Breath through your nose, Don," he hissed at me, "breath through your fucking nose."

My efforts to recover air didn't deter him. He pressed his cock into my open mouth with more and more force. My hands reached around him. I wouldn't be helpless if I could just hold on.

His hips began thrusting downward. My hands pulled on the fabric across his driving buttocks; I grasped the wet nylon in my fingers. His cock plunged down my throat repeatedly. With each plunge my lips became buried in the wet, wiry mass of his pubic hair. Saliva foamed out of my mouth. My lips struggled to encompass his swollen shaft. Streaking tears rolled down my face.

Lying struggling on the ground I didn't dare open my eyes. I inhaled in uneven snorts. My chest, pressured by his weight, jerked as my lungs cried for more air. My hands pulled down his shorts and my fingers began kneading the taunt skin of his firm round ass cheeks. His breath increased with the pounding and his heavy breathing was accompanied by an occasional loud gasp.

"I'm going to cum," he cried aloud, "You're going to drink my cum." My head was thrown back. I felt the hard cock begin to throb, its thrusts becoming shorter. I tried to hold my lips around it. Opening my eyes, I could see his face grimaced above me; his eyes were squeezed tight and his head was tilted backward.

"I'm coming, oh fuck, I'm coming," I heard him cry just as streams of hot, stinging liquid exploding inside my mouth. "Oh damn it, I'm coming."

Sprays of warm, salty fluid filled my mouth stinging my palate. I was choked from the flood. With each breath, I could feel trickles of hot bitter liquid roll down my throat. My nose filled with the acid smell of man-cum. His hands clasped behind my head as he pulled me upward, crushing my mouth against the sweaty tangle of pubic hair. His ball sack lay over my chin.

Gradually his cock began to slow, the deep thrusts changed to jerks as sticky liquid continued to squirt into my mouth. His body was taut. Eventually his thrusting stopped. He sat above me frozen, with his fingers locked in my hair. With each swallow of his salty cum I gagged. My lips were locked around his shaft and I was making suckling noises like a hungry pup. From my throat I heard the whimpering sounds of a feeding infant.

We stayed that way suspended in time. Slowly I felt his body grew slack. Looking up I noticed that his eyes had looked away from me. His cock began to relax in my mouth; he pulled out rolling off me.

As I swallowed the last of his liquid my nostrils savored the strange taste. I opened my mouth and breathed deeply, taking in the pungent smell of warm earth, green brush and cum. My arm lay across my chest, rising and falling with the slowing of my heart.

I continued lying there with my eyes closed. I felt the thick, sticking wetness of my own cum on my stomach. I hadn't noticed that I had ejaculated at the same time that he had. I saw him rise, and heard the sounds of his waist band snapping when he jerked up his shorts. Then I heard steps away accompanied by swishing of bushes hitting skin.

Darkness surrounded me before I could move. The night felt suddenly cooler. After a long while I returned to my house. There was no one at home. After a shower and several drinks of scotch I went to bed without eating.

Much later that night I woke to hear the soft breathing from my wife beside me. Sweat was plastered to my head, but the air was no longer hot. Lying in bed I recalled a scene I had suppressed from years ago.