Jogging Partners

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Artwork (c) 2006 by Eduardo.

Troy was warming up as I walked up at the edge of the park. He had one leg up on the rail, standing on the other, both legs straight as he bent over like a ballerina would and for much the same reason. You have to stretch the tendons in your legs before you run. I joined him there by putting my hands on my hips and leaning forward with one leg fore and one leg aft, knees only slightly bent, feet flat on the ground. The tendons at your ankles, that what you start with if you're smart. Troy would have made a male ballet dancer if he would have wanted, his long, lean body fit into the pose like an artist's dream, all clean, long lines and his face in elegant repose of square angles as he looked straight ahead, his chest up against his upper leg. His blond hair blew lazily in the morning breeze that seemed to have stirred just for the pleasure of running its fingers through that golden thatch. His t-shirt and jogging shorts were loosely appealing, like maybe if they gapped open the wrong way, you could see his goodies. But they never did. And isn't that the essence of any sexy outfit?

I made a slight noise, Troy looked over at me and nodded, and I nodded back. "Good morning." I added.

Troy was bent way over, speaking wasn't easy in that position. "Hi." he settled for saying.

I put my arms over my head and bent at the waist. Flexing. Troy jogged in place while I finished my stretches, and then I rose up, already breathing heavy and said, "Okay, let's go."

And we set out running into the park.

Rathmore Park is great for joggers, laid out on nearly level land four blocks wide and six blocks long, the main ring around it was exactly one mile in distance. Troy and I were up to running two miles, three times a week. The other days, we walked one mile. Each routine took us a half hour plus the warm up. Easy enough to slip that into a morning before returning home for a shower, a light breakfast and get ready for work. I'd been doing it for two years, Troy had been doing it for three. We'd met in the park, a few meetings, and it evolved into a jogging partnership.

It had its perks, too. Troy and I could talk about things with each other we couldn't with anyone else. Witness the start of my conversation with him today.

"So, Troy, how did it go last night?" I asked him.

"Not too bad." Troy said. We had just started our course, we still had breath to spare on conversation. That tended to peter out on the second mile, of course. "I had Mona over, and we talked."

"Any luck there?" Mona was Troy's wife, they had separated a month or so ago.

"Luck? Yeah, I guess you could call it that. She told me she wants to get a divorce."

"Aw, man!" I commiserated with the only words that a man really needs to hear. "Yeah." Troy said, and we were both silent for a time.

During our jogs, Troy told me of his problems with his wife, and I told him of my problems with my dates, carefully changing the names of the men I went with from male to female. Frank was Francine, Eddie was Eydie, and so on, I skirted as close to the truth as I could. For a half hour per day, this time was too precious to risk it on a coming-out event. You ought to be open to everyone, but hell, like I'd said, this was too good to louse up like that. I could tell him of anything, and not worry about my co-workers hearing about it, or word getting back to my date, or anything. Except for that half hour each morning, we never saw each other. That can become a precious thing in your life, you know, the power to be utterly honest without repercussions. And I only lied about the sex of my partners, nothing else.

Coming up the end of the first mile, we both slowed to a fast walk, something less than running and more than walking. If we'd been horses, I would have called it a "trot."

"So what are you going to do?" I asked Troy.

Troy gave a grunt in lieu of a shrug. "I don't know. It caught me off guard, I thought we were getting along, going to get back together." Then his face darkened and it wasn't the exercise. "Turns out the bitch is banging a co-worker. They'd been carrying on the last year!"

"Ouch!" I commiserated again.

Troy started to say something else, it came out in a snarl, and he took off running again. It wasn't time yet to speed up again, but I gamely set off with him.

Troy was pushing it, though, I dropped slowly behind. Anger can drive a man better than any amount of drive and determination. It carried Troy most of the way around the second mile, through the last copse of trees before we hit the straightaway where we'd begun.

And Troy veered off and into the trees. At first I didn't realize what had happened; he was far enough ahead that I assumed he'd turned onto some smaller track, there were a dozen or so in the park for people to saunter along. At six o'clock in the morning, only a few joggers like us were around.

But I got to the end of the copse without seeing Troy and stopped, puzzled. Turned back, and saw the barest glimpse of his red t-shirt in the bushes. Bent over. Was he sick?

I went back and found how he'd threaded his way into the bushes. These things were a tangled mess, people were meant to get in between them if they wanted. Troy was in there, and when I got up near him, I realized he was crying. Well, not real crying, exactly, that sobbing sort of sound where a guy is fighting back the tears and mostly winning.

"Hey, Troy, hey." I said. Not intelligible, yes, but the sounds of sympathy were in them, and that's all I needed to say. I know, is what I'd said. I understand. I feel your pain.

"Hell of a note." Troy got out when he realized I was there, hands on his knees, looking up at me. Mastering his pain now, not show weakness in front of another man. The male way of doing things. "Here I was thinking about us starting a family and she's thinking of starting it with another man. She was pregnant with the guy's kid, that's why she wants the divorce. So the kid can have his father's name. So she can pretend she was never anything else. So where the fuck does that leave me?"

"With your friends." I said, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your own scorecard isn't any better." Troy said. Out to hurt me if he could. Not maliciously, just wanting someone else to feel as lousy as he did. "How long has it been since you broke up with your last girlfriend, what was her name?"

What WAS the name I'd given him? The guy had been named "Jeff," which doesn't exactly turn into an easy girl's name like some names do. Had I told him "Gina" or "Georgia?"

"G--, G--, Gina." I said to him.

"Yeah, Gina." Troy said, "You and her...." A pause. "You and Gina had been together for what, five years?"

"Yeah, about that." I said, my own breath coming short.

"And she dumped you flat."

"Yeah, two years ago." I said. I had started jogging about that time, something to get me out of the apartment in the early morning, break the routine I'd had with Jeff, our intimate breakfasts, when we'd discuss the day and make our plans and plot our future. A future that had vanished like Troy's would-be family. Shit. "It sucks." I said. "I know it sucks."

"So what do you do?" Troy asked me. "How do you get through it when your entire future life gets thrown on the garbage?"

"What do you do?" I asked. Managed a smile, or a smirk, actually. "You start jogging in the morning."

Troy managed a laugh at that. "Yeah, I guess you do." he said. Blew out a large breath and straightened up, used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe his face. Giving me a rare look at the six-pack abs he had on that sleek stomach. God, Troy must work out in the afternoons or something. I was going to have to start that, I was heading right toward the big 4-0, and your body doesn't want to lose the paunch it has when you cross that border. I still had a few years to go for that, but it was only a few years.

Troy sucked in his stomach and the shorts sagged down slightly. Like I said, these clothes he jogged in were sexy in that they seemed to want to jump off of his body at any moment. I got a quick shot of the top of a thread of blond pubic hairs, just the thickening line that reaches down from the navel, and bursts into bloom around the tower of virility, finding nourishment in the fertile ground of the fertility organs, and then Troy relaxed, and the shorts rose back up again, hiding that promised golden treasure trove.

"Do you miss her?" Troy asked me.

"Who?" I honestly didn't know for a crucial couple of seconds. "Oh, you mean Georgia. No, not really, not anymore, I...." Ah hell, I said "Georgia." "Did I say Georgia? I meant Gina. Georgia is another girl that I know in the office, and my brain just sort of skipped on me. You know how it is."

"I know." Troy said. "Actually, I remember now. Your former girlfriend was named Jessica."

Oh, right! Jeez, how do I cover up for that one? I don't, I decided. I grinned sheepishly and said, "Okay, you got me. I was making up girls to talk to you about. Didn't want to seem too pathetic, living alone like I do." That didn't seem to cover all the stories I'd told; I'd always skirted as close to the truth as I could in my tales, easier to remember them that way. "My work keeps me pretty busy, so I sort of began creating fantasies and..."

"Mark?" Troy interrupted me.

"Yeah?"

"Give it up."

"Huh? Oh, oh, yeah." I said, grinned even more sheepishly. What would that be, more ram-ishly? "You got me figured out, huh?"

"For some time, now." Troy agreed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"And miss out on my morning jogging partner?" Troy said. "Hell, who would I talk to if you weren't around?"

I grinned at that. "That was kind of why I hadn't told you." I admitted. "I like being with you, Troy."

Troy looked at me and I saw the straight man jumping to his usual conclusion.

"Not like that." I said hastily. "I mean, I can keep my hands to myself."

I might have gotten away with that if I could have kept my eyes on his face just then. But I didn't, they wandered down that body and I thought of it lying on my living room floor, and so my eyes dove down to the crotch. I jerked them back up to his face, but the damage was done.

"What about your eyes?"

What I read in Troy's own eyes then was a desire to be, well, desirable. His wife had cheated on him and then abandoned him. That had to leave a straight man feeling pretty unloveable. "Well, okay, my eyes tend to lose control. You can't blame a guy for looking, can you?"

"Depends on where he's looking?" Troy said. "Is he looking here?" he pointed at his face. "Or is he looking here?" And he lifted up his t-shirt to reveal two majestically perky tits atop his generous pecs. "Or is he looking here?" And he gave a tug to his shorts and gave me a look at the very top of his basket, I got the quickest look at the base of the shaft and balls nestled in the pale pubic hair (blond pubes, it still dazzled me, my own pubic hair was near black even though my hair was medium brown!), and then up again. "Or is he looking here?" And he turned his back and another dip of his shorts gave a peek at the top of the cleft of his buttocks. Troy turned on back again. "Where are you looking, Mark?"

"Wherever I can." I admitted. "Every chance I get. You got me, okay?"

"You want me."

"Yeah." I said. "Not bad enough to ruin our friendship for it, but yeah."

A short pause, then Troy said, "You wouldn't ruin our friendship."

I looked into those eyes of his, beautiful blue, hungry for affirmation. "I wouldn't?"

"No."

"Then can I see it again? And see more?" I stepped in closer to Troy.

His hand went this time to my shoulder, and I let him push me down onto my knees, or guide me there, for I went willingly enough.

"A nice close look, maybe?" I said.

"Close as you want."

I didn't wait to ask anything else, I just reached up and caught the top of his shorts and brought them down his legs. The shorts had a built-in jockstrap of sorts, like swimming trunks do, and so there were no briefs to deal with, just the warm nest of his manhood, the cock sitting there like a proud swan upon its nest, the neck craning the head out to peer at me with its one teary eye. Or was that a moistly kissable mouth in this conceit of mine?

Call it instead my hotdog of desire, for I scarfed it down like the frank sold at any ballpark! And it was just as savory and flavorful with its garnish of male sweat combined with crotch raunch from our morning jog. "Uh-ugh-guhhh!" Troy gave an expelled breath of appreciation. "Yeah, that's right." he urged me with panting arousal. "Come on, really go down on it, all of it."

"Umm-umm-ummm!" I worked that huge shaft down my throat, I wanted all of it, just like he'd offered, more turned on than I'd been even when I'd had men better looking than Troy, because I'd been seeing Troy every day for years now, we'd been (effectively) dating for two years now, and finally, finally, we were going beyond the half-hour we'd limited ourselves to for so long. I was casting a friendship on the scales of chance here and I knew it, but it wasn't all my decision, so let the scales balance out and the indicator point where it will, and see which was greater, our friendship or the forces that tear friendship asunder when the friendship takes on flesh and form.

This could be my only time with Troy. I knew that. I didn't even know where he lived, had no phone number, had no way to reach him. He could change the next morning to a new place to jog, or shift his work-outs to the afternoon, and I would be cut off from him. For this to not be the end instead of the beginning, I had to give him nothing to regret, nothing at all.

So I dove deeper on Troy's dong, feeling the hot slab of meat as it sizzled on my tongue, broiled down my throat, steamed in my esophagus, and my nose landed in among the pubic hairs, I had driven that long shaft of manhood all the way down, it rested totally within me, and I had it all, every bit, all of it was mine! My hand worked inside my own shorts and found my cock, pumped it in synch with my own motions, as I held his entirety within me, my own hand held my cock-skin pulled back against the base, my glans exposed and seeking hungrily for a hole to hide in and live in and love, and my other hand freed it to search the world as it would.

If I could have stayed like this forever, I would have, with Troy moaning above me and his whanger stuffed down my gullet, but that was impossible, I had to relinquish the length of Troy back to the outer air, had to feel it foaming out of my mouth, my saliva boiling around it, greasing the long dong, now, now, take it back again, recapture it, let Troy feel anew the joy of going down my mouth! And I brought my hand back up my own shaft, the thick covering crumpled over my cockhead, was doused with the sticky venom of my cock-snake, my love-juice smeared over my fingers as I pulled up to the very top, coalesced into a crystalline bead that reached for the ground and joined in the fruition of the soil.

"Ah-hah-ah, huh!" Troy breathed as my face again merged with his pubic forest, as again the throbbing scope of his member pulsed within me. "Gah, ah, shit, uh, man, yeah, God, yeah!"

His hands caught my head and forced me into action, I obeyed their impetus, and had it been anyone but this friend of mine, I might have marveled at the aggressiveness, but Troy wasn't being harsh with me, he was being overcome by his passion into actions of carelessness for my comfort.

How long had his wife cut him off before she dumped the pain of their pending divorce upon him? Had it been days, or weeks, or months? I only know that Troy was filled to the brim with his tumescence, he groaned with a strength that was both completely male and at the same time, helplessly enthralled to the passion, it must be this that sends the male preying mantis to the larger female, there to die in her embrace, but at that same time, he releases into her the power to bring in a new generation, his body is designed to release its sperm only when his head is bitten off, and so he spreads life in the process of dying, and so did Troy embody manhood even as he was at his most helpless, subject to my lavishment of my tongue and lips upon his body's sperm-gun. Let the seed be churned into quickness, let the power of life spread through the tubes, let the spark of immortality created by this man's form be spurted out and into the receptacle, let the receptacle drink of it and be nourished and fertilized by it, let the entire of his body rejoice at the act, let his partner share in that delight, one process of procreation, one joining of joy, one exercise of ecstasy, one body, one life, ONE!

I sensed rather than felt/heard/saw Troy's climax building, his only sounds remained a virile masculine set of hisses and grunts, and yet in all that, I could detect the budding rapture and know that the bloom was about to burst forth, so let it be, give me the essence of your soul, Troy, my friend, my poor benighted comrade, my betrayed and desolate lover, I will be your strength and your joy, I will be your night and your day, I will be for you, just you and none other, give it to me, Troy, give it to me and I will take it with all the marveling eagerness of a new bride being given her veil so she may enter the church where her beloved awaits.

And Troy did reach his peak, he did finally at the very end raise his voice and pour out his glory to the heavens. "Oh, ah, GAH, UH, GUHN-HUNH, GUH-HNNNNHHH!" and with this outpouring of his soul, he also poured out his semen into my mouth, the strongly salty intensity of the packets of man-juice boiled into me and I nearly strangled upon the heaviness and vigor of this explosion of exultation in ejaculation.

I gulped at the offering and still it was more than I could take, my mouth slobbered and I lost it like any infant just learning to eat the mush in the tiny jars from a spoon, it globbed out and dribbled down my chin and more sprayed in to defeat my efforts to prevent their brothers from getting away. I could only drink what I could and let the rest go!

"AH, GAH, OH, GOD, MAN, OH, MAN, ohman, God, ohman, God, ohmanoh!" Troy babbled as his climax wound down, leaving a ravaged man in its wake. He cupped my face in his sweaty hands, and whether the sweat was from the morning run or from his desire I could not tell.

"Shit, man, you were terrific!" Troy panted. And his eyes focused and he saw me pumping still at my pud, still far behind in the race for completion. "Hell, get up here, let me help you with that."

I stood, wondering, but Troy only caught my pud in his hand and jerked me, the condescending act of a straight man pleased by another man enough to offer this solace, it was more than I'd dare hope for, less than could have been. It was enough. Seizing this kindess gratefully, I held onto Troy's muscled body and dropped my forehead onto his shoulder and I gave myself to my joy, Troy beat me off and I groaned, sighed, gasped, spurted my juices and they caught him right on his muscled and still-bare thigh next to his crotch, and Troy laughed as I wet him down like a naughty puppy, and he kept on pounding me until I was totally done and then some, until my last groan of rapture had ebbed totally away.

"There, that's better." Troy approved as I staggered away from him. I saw him snap his shorts up around his waist, and knew my jism was inside there with him, still on his thigh until he could return to his home and wash it away. I wiped my chin with the back of my hand and then on my own shorts, feeling the dampness soak into the cloth and onto my own body. On me and in me was Troy, upon me and within, a part of me now.

"That was damned good." Troy said and the bereaved husband of earlier was gone. For better or worse for our friendship, I had mended that rift in his soul. "Damned good." he repeated.

"I liked it, too." I agreed. "But it's even better in a bed with plenty of time."

"Time, hey, yeah, we better get going or we'll both be late for work." Troy said.

"Late for work, yeah." I said to his departing back. "Sure."

Had I lost him?

Well, I had saved him, anyhow. Troy could return to his apartment and know that he was loveable and loved. As for the rest, I'd just have to see if he avoided me and the park and his morning jog from now on. Or whether he was back in the park, waiting for me the next morning, smiling and ready for whatever came next.

And he was.

THE END
Comments, complaints or suggestions?
E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM


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