Sunday 25 March 2018

Out Jogging When Tim Stepped Up Beside Me At The Lights




Thick dark hair, widow’s peak, don’t think I didn’t notice that. He stood next to me at the lights. Like Eddie Munster all grown up, don’t think I didn’t think that.

Nice arse.

He looked sideways at me. Our eyes met. He held my gaze for just that moment too long. He hurriedly looked straight ahead again, when he realised I wasn’t breaking his gaze.

The sun shone. The sky was blue.

I was going for a jog passed Melbourne uni. He just kind of looked at me and I just knew by his eyes. I wasn’t really looking for it, not really, I was just out running, enjoying the sun shine, headphones on. But he looked to long. Thick, dark hair, widow’s peak, which is a bit of a weakness for me. Sparkly eyes, nice smile.

He looked away.

He looked again. He held my gaze. We were at the lights, Swanston and Elgin, trams and all, so we waited for some time for the green man. He stepped ahead of me. I waited for him to look back, before he got to the other side. He looked over his left shoulder. He headed down Elgin Street. He looked back. He looked back. I kept my eyes fixed on him, so he saw me looking each time he looked around.

He turned into the first laneway. 

I turned into the laneway behind him.

We headed down the laneway behind one of the buildings there, on the corner, just before the pub. It was that easy. I wondered, momentarily, if I was misreading the situation, hoping I wasn’t, otherwise he’d find me down the lane with him, not knowing why. 

But, I knew that I wasn’t. This wasn’t my first rodeo, and he wasn’t my first cowboy.

That familiar buzz, it came back to me quickly. Nice arse, good legs, nice eyes.

He got behind a dumpster and took his cock out. “I want to be sucked off.” Nice and thick, uncut. He looked nervous, I reckoned he was 20 years old, I should have felt his arse crack for dew. 

“You live around here?” I asked.

He lived in the eastern suburbs with his parents. He said his name was Tim. He said he was in third year at uni.

I got on my knees and deep throated him. Straight down. Eddie Munster’s cock. His breathing changed instantly. 

He’d turned 21 at the beginning of the year and had been dating his girlfriend, Emily, since year 11. He looked like a private school boy. He said he was. Preppy. Strapping. Like he’d have played on the football team.

He went to Xavier College, so he had all that catholic guilt, as well. Pent up. I could feel it. And a long list of gays, Tim and John, my mate went to Xavier college too.

“I have been asked if I am that Tim from Xavier.”

“He’s more my age.”

“He was some years before me,” he said.

“Oh? Yes, I guess.”

He had a nice smile, even the nervous version that I was getting.

He had the same girl he been with since they were teenagers. He’d got around none the less, all the time in his monogamous relationship.

Tim was a talker, I liked that. 

I sucked his cock, good and hard, it felt good in my mouth. He moaned like he liked it. He had a nice dick on him, big and straight and hard. 

He said his girlfriend wouldn’t understand. That was hardly surprising.

His cock dribbled a fair amount of precum and it was hard like a metal bar, pumped with blood. Rock hard. It was nice to suck, nice and smooth and shiny, that shininess that only comes when the blood is fully pumping. I sucked him hard, he tasted good. It didn’t take long before he was trembling in his ankles and then his legs, up on the balls of his feet. 

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Fuck… yeah! Oh… yeah! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

And then he was holding my hair in his fingers, up on his tip toes, I moved my head away, and he shot his load next to my ear, shaking as he shot cannon balls of cum out of his beautiful dick, in big, white wads. Splat! Splat! Splat!

He moaned. His cock was post-cum tender.

He shook his hands in flicks, as I got to my feet. It was enough to see him enjoy himself, I didn’t need to cum too, besides, I haven’t had my cock out in the middle of the day since I was his age. Uni public toilets were a favourite, he reminded me of those days. And he didn’t seem to care, if I came or not, as he buttoned up his jeans with sticky fingertips, little fingers extended. Scrunched face.

“I wanna do it again,” he said.

“I thought you were straight?”

“I a… I a… ahhhh…” the final sigh was like him letting go of all pretence. “I am. I guess. I don’t know?” said Tim.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I asked. 

“I… um… I still… um… wanna do it again.”

 “You don’t know if you have a girlfriend?”

He was tongue tied. “No. I mean, no I don’t know…” Big, brown eyes.

“What?” He was goddam cute. We both laughed.

“I know.” He blushed. “I have one.” Was he flirting, or what? He’d just cum. Oh to be young. “A girlfriend, that is.” He smiled. He was adorable.

“What are you studying?”

“Law.”

“I should run a mile.”

“Why?” 

“You are me 15 years ago.”

“How so?”

“Melb Uni. Law. I did it too.”

We both looked at each other. He was cute. I could tell he was thinking the same thing, it is nice to feel.

“Give me your number,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Give me your number, you’re nice.”

“What about your girlfriend?

“What about her?”

“You need to tell her.”

“What?”

“Are you gay?”

“I don’t know?”

“Come on, you are going to have to do better than that.”

He shrugged. “Whatever.” He smiled. “Sure, I like it.”

I laughed.

“Don’t laugh.”

“You’re gay Timmy…”

He shrugged. “Don’t call me Timmy.” His eyes got really big. He smiled. “Only my mum calls me Timmy.”

I gave him my number.

“Can I call you?”

“Sure, I wouldn’t have given you my number otherwise.”

He smiled. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” I said.

He walked away backwards. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” I said again.

He smiled. He was so damn cute, I felt drawn to him. “Fifteen years isn’t so much of an age difference, is it?” he called back.

“No,” I said. “But a girlfriend is a problem.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay,” I said. I wondered why I cared?

He walked away, up the lane.

I pulled on my headphones.

He stopped again at the end of the laneway. He smiled. Waved. Then disappeared out of sight.


I chose U2’s Vertigo. I jogged out of the lane to Elgin Street. I couldn’t help but think of Tim. He made me smile. I laughed, which was a sign that I liked him. How on earth could I know if I liked him? Those things just happen sometimes, you know, you like someone. Who can explain why?


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