For Part 1 click here
Following a mainly sleepless night, and twenty four hours after waking on that bench, it happened that Joey returned to the park, this time on his bike, which he usually used to get him to his part time work, to help with his expenses, as well as for the exercise that helped keep him in shape. There was very little breeze to slow or cool him and he felt the urge to push himself to mitigate the inner feelings he still had. Dappled shade rapidly alternated with brilliant sun, cooling and heating his back in succession as he cycled around the track, always within view of that bench, but never getting close to it.
The bench attracted him with a force he couldn’t explain but at the same time it repelled him, the two opposing forces made him feel disturbed, almost giddy. Since his experience, waking up, remembering his tortures, finding his cock locked without knowing who or when, he was both frustrated and nervous. In truth he was angry, frustrated, frightened and anxious all at the same time. He didn’t know which way to turn mentally. He’d been used. The turmoil that this caused him was fighting the feeling somewhere, deep inside, that it was sexy, hot and just about everything that he’d dreamed about most of the time he was jerking off.
Jerking off, yeah, the thing he could no longer do, and that made him angry.
The sun again warmed his back as he steered through and out of the wooded area, very few other cyclists around. He wasn’t paying attention to his route, but he knew that they were all circular and he’d end up at the entrance eventually, except he didn’t. He ended up at a point his subconscious mind had predetermined, that lonely park bench.
What the fuck. It’s a park bench. Just a bloody bench. Sit on it if you want to.
He’d spent the morning at the job he’d got to help with college fees, then used the bike to work off some of his continuing frustration and was now feeling the need to relax. He sat down. His face shone with a natural healthy glow which allowed the sweat in his dark, spiky hair to form small rivulets which ran down each side of his cheeks. His cycling gear clung to him like damp hands grasping at his muscled torso, he felt and looked fit. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply.
The shadow that fell across his eyelids startled him and he squinted straight into the sunlight with half opened eyes only to see the dark shape of a body peering down at him.
Nice bike, said the voice from the darkness. Too expensive for me but one to aim for.
Joey sat up straight and shaded his eyes with his left hand only to see another rider, just a few years older than himself, sitting astride a bike with one foot on the end of the bench.
Huh, Oh yeah, yeah. A present for getting my place at college.
Lucky. Ride here often, not seen you around before.
Sometimes, answered Joey. Depends on the shift I do at the Wholefood grocery. And the weather.
Maybe we could do a distance together sometime?
Blinking into the sun Joey was on auto pilot. He was answering without thinking.
Nice gear too, he added looking down at Joey’s crotch. OK. See you around sometime.
He pushed himself away from the bench with an easy fluid movement of his tanned leg and started to pedal as Joey quickly looked down at himself to see the outline of the cock cage making a definite appearance through his tight, sweaty lycra shorts.
The other cyclist got about 15 or so feet away, stopped and turned his head.
By the way, you looked so fucking hot strapped to that table. Maybe do that again sometime too.
He took off.
Joey was paralysed both mentally and physically. He just sat, mouth falling open, brain in neutral.
The paralysis lasted several seconds after which Joey howled out loud. Scenes from his memories crashed into his consciousness, thoughts tumbled without resolving. He knew he should have raced after the other guy and caught up with him, he knew it was too late. He hated that he’d lost his chance, he also hated knowing he was glad he’d lost it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he desperately wanted to know. He bent forward, his head in his hands and tried hard not to cry.
Opening his eyes he saw, on the ground in front of him, a scrap of paper. Kicking at it in idle temper he noticed on one crumpled end some writing, “ey”. Unfolding it he read “Joey”. He grabbed at it, hands shaking. A simple sentence was scrawled in pencil:
“Same time tomorrow or maybe the next, depending on the weather”.
The writing swam over the paper. He felt as if his gut had caught fire.
Outside the park, near one of the gates that opened onto the street and eventually led into the city, a cyclist was answering his phone.
Yeah. Yeah….no he’s fine. Still looking hot too. Dunno,…. no…no he’s wearing it… I know, no he can’t get it off like that. Think he might be enjoying it…. What? No, he hadn’t seen it while I was there…… Can’t be sure. I’ll check in a bit. No, didn’t see the envelope at all so he may not have the photo. No, no one else, I could…but…well if they have then they’d have to recognise him wouldn…..yeah I know. Let’s hope. Better go, I’m still a bit close. Cheers.
Meanwhile, slightly earlier and on another bench under a shady tree, a man was studying the picture he retrieved from an envelope that he’d seen under a similar bench whilst walking at a more remote spot in the park. The face that he saw looked slightly familiar to him although he couldn’t immediately place it. Had they met? It annoyed him not to be able to recollect the facts, all he saw was a well-developed, youthful naked male body held down by restraints to a large wooden tabletop. The man’s erection began to show under his jeans, quickly growing to full mast, the fabric becoming very damp as he stared at the scene.
I know that face. I saw it only yesterday. Where the hell was it?
Click for Part 3