Rainy Night

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A damp night-time ride in the city turns into much more.
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I love riding my bike through the city. It's fun, cars are mostly polite and make way for you. You can ignore most of the signs if you like and not get into trouble. Mostly it's fun.

Then there's the weather. It makes things decidedly less enjoyable. And that's where I found myself, soaked to the skin, at the stage of cycling apathy where pedaling was a mechanical yet conscious effort. My bag was heavy against my back, sodden wet too, and I knew my laptop was probably wet through and undoubtedly ruined. All I wanted to do was to get home.

Unsympathetic cars sped by. I pictured the occupants, hated them for their dryness and therefore consequent smugness. I wanted nothing more than to reverse places with them. And maybe then I'd offer them a ride. But no-one does that these days. Whether it's dangerous or not the jury is still outout, but it's the question, the invitation into a strange vehicle. No-one wants to be perceived as creepy, and so the altruistic gesture is silenced before it even manifests into an act.

My hair hung down my face, drips of water trickling into my eyes and ears and down my back (how can I even feel that in this deluge -- and yet I can). Even my feet squelch in my shoes when I push down to move forward a seemingly inconsequentially small distance.

A car speeds past, and coasts a wave of water towards me. It hits me, and for a moment I feel like I'm swimming on a bicycle. Instantly I'm upset, and a moment later I laugh, because, what the hell at this point. Who cares. I certainly don't.

Surprisingly the car slows, then stops, the glow of red brake lights shattered and faceted in my soaked vision. It pulls over, not too close the curb, enough to let a cyclist by. I pull up slowly, and the window winds down. It's a big car, an S.U.V. Alongside I get a glimpse of a male face.

"Look, I'm sorry, are you okay?"

"Good enough." I smile, unable even now to be upset in the face of a real, humble apology.

"Shit. I didn't see the puddle. You're drenched."

"Yup, I am. I was drenched before. But no worries. Things happen."

He smiled apologetically. He was handsome, a little beard, full lips.

"I know this might sound creepy, but do you want a ride? I'll take you wherever you want."

"It's only creepy to me when the person says it isn't," I replied, smiling a little.

"Seriously though, it's the least I can do. Your bike will go right in the back."

I considered it for a moment. Not a long moment, mind. I was soaked to the bones and I had a long way to go. Creepy be damned. I could handle myself if things got weird.

"Sure." He smiled broadly in response. Hopping out of his car he came round back and opened the back hatch, and we hefted my bike inside. He dashed back inside, and I got in next to him and pulled the door closed.

"I'm going to get your seats all wet you know."

"It's not a problem. They'll dry. I'm Peter, by the way." He extended a hand and gave me a firm handshake.

"Where to?"

I gave a cross-street near to my house and we pulled away, starting the long process of navigating city traffic. Bad weather aside, it makes the bicycle a real asset when moving through the streets.

We made small talk for a while. He seemed genuinely warm, and legitimately sorry for what he'd done. He was from the city, lived there all his life, and had a good job downtown. I paid attention to the details about him, wary still of course. He drove confidently, holding the wheel in one hand, the other on his leg. He was physically fit, his thighs and calves were muscled and full. Occasionally he would look at me, rather furtively at first, between stop lights and signs.

After a long pause, he spoke.

"I know this is against what I said about creepy before, but I have to say that I didn't think I was going to give a ride to..."

"To what?"

"To such a good looking guy. I would have offered, whoever it was, I want you to know that, but I lucked out with you."

Immediately, predictably, my defenses came up at the receipt of a compliment, especially so from an almost total stranger. I don't think I'm good looking, I never have, but in a compromise I have accepted that it is okay in a functional way. To take a compliment, to hear something good, is to chip away and confuse that mind-set.

"You shouldn't..."

"I shouldn't? You're right. I'm sorry. Way to go Pete. Inappropriate."

"No," I replied. "I appreciate it. I just... I just don't know how to take it. I don't think I'm anything, you know, special. Like that."

"You're kidding right? You're gorgeous. Don't be silly. And this might be forward, but do you, you know, like men? That way I can stop right now if it's something you'd rather not hear."

"I like men. I don't have much experience, but I like them. Some. Not all. I don't know. I don't really know what my type is."

He laughed, which put me at ease. "I understand. Do you like me?" He seemed a little more confident now, knowing that he hadn't pushed me away.

"I do."

He moved his hand slowly over to my thigh. My cock twitched immediately, noticeably and quickly rising in my shorts. I tentatively placed my hand on his thigh. At least I tried. In fact I placed it directly on his crotch. He was big, I knew that immediately, and my breath caught in my throat. My hand found it's own place and began rubbing slightly, feeling the ridges of his dick through his pants, feeling him rise with my touch.

"This is a nice surprise," he said, smiling at me.

"Unexpected", I replied.

I wanted to take my time, I really did, but something in me overwhelmingly wanted to taste him, now.

I undid my seat belt, muttered something about being sorry for being so forward, leaned over and started unfastening his pants. Almost immediately the seat-belt alarm started pinging. I felt him tense up but I kept going, unzipping the pants and then reaching in, pushing down his underwear until my finger tips grazed the warm, hard skin of his shaft.

I felt the car pull over, the sound of the rain still hammering away at the windshield, but none of it mattered. I gently pulled his length out of his pants and kissed it, running my tongue along the bulbous vein beneath, before popping the head of it into my mouth. He tasted incredible, and his cock was now rock hard. I heard him groan as I ran my tongue around him, sliding my lips tightly around his thick cock.

My lips gripped him tightly as I slid down, taking as much of him as I could in my wet mouth. I felt him place his hand on the back of my head as I started sliding his cock in and out of my mouth, able to take only half of it in. My fingers pushed into his pants and fondled his heavy balls, and he moaned even louder. Everything in that moment was just the sensation of his thick cock in my mouth and the ever-increasing slipperiness of it as my saliva lubricated it, breathing in his scent, clean, but with his musk pushing through. My other hand pushed against his stomach, reaching up under his shirt, fingertips grazing his abdomen, my lips still wrapped around his stiff shaft.

My hand curled around the base and I increased the pace, stroking him while my mouth moved in tandem. I didn't care that we might get caught, somewhere in the back of my mind I considered that the rain streaked windows and stormy night would keep most people from peering in. All I was aware of was the smell of the car, the taste of his dick, and my own erection pushing painfully against my pants.

I pulled away for a moment, my hand still gripping tightly, and flicking my tongue on the underside, before bobbing down and taking only the head in, my tongue now sliding around the smooth head. I felt his big thighs stiffen and he made deep, guttural moans; he liked this, and I liked that too, and so I kept this going, this teasing, knowing he wanted me deeper, and then when I felt he could take no more, I sank down again, enveloping him and taking him as deep as I could manage, the tip of him scraping the back of my throat. I was no expert, and any deeper felt like choking.

I wanted him to come so badly, and my wish was soon granted. I felt his balls constrict and his cock begin to pulse rhythmically, and suddenly, for the first time in my life, my mouth was flooded with his creamy, rich semen. Some dripped out of my mouth, over my fingers, the rest I swallowed. I was more gentle now, and licked slowly, slowly lifting up. I don't know how long I was doing that for, it could have been minutes or longer. I didn't care. It was glorious.

I sat up completely and stared at the handsome stranger, the taste of his come still lingering in my mouth. He looked a little shocked, but happy. His cock sagged against his pants, slowly shrinking. I liked that I had done that to him.

With a slight stammer he said, "Would you like to come over?"

There was no question.

"Yes, please."

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6 Comments
MarkbikeMarkbikeover 5 years ago
Good read

A real feel-good story and hot. Would love to read how things develop.

Csucker64Csucker64over 5 years ago
Excellent story

Short and to the point - very well written , more please

AnonymousAnonymousover 5 years ago
More!

Please right another chapter to this story!!!

PissdrinkerPissdrinkerover 5 years ago
Spot on.

Well done and thank you, you spunk swallowing novice. I hope whatever follows (and swallows) is safe and horny.

AnonymousAnonymousover 5 years ago
Lovely story and excellent writing!

Really put me in the moment. Enjoyed it very much.

One thing though, it seemed that the opening gambit should have been a bit more gradual, beyond the driver telling him how good looking he was. Also, the cyclist is soaked and his exertion would have steamed the windows immediately. The blow job would have been wet and messy for the driver, who might have naturally offered a shower food and his bed. I know I would have!

Great initial effort and I hope to see more work from you. Glad I always have a rack on the back of my car. Might have to take a drive the next rainy night...

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