This story is really inspired by a memory of when I saw a muscular, shirtless, bearish ECU student step out of his car to fill up his tank just 100 yards away one summer. I've changed some things -- including my age and his level of interest -- to fit the section "Fictitious Stories."
_____
It was a hot day one July weekend in a small town in central NC. I was mowing the lawn at my parents' house the summer after my high school graduation. Their house was just up the street from a two-lane major mountains-to-the-beach route; lots of people stopped at the gas station on the corner, and I liked seeing how many different license plates I could recognize from about 100 yards away.
This afternoon, in the middle of mowing, I glanced down the street at the Texaco and saw a tall, heavily muscled college-age young man step out of his black Camaro, its T-tops open. His shirtless back rippled with muscles as he dug his wallet out of a back pocket. His physique was reminiscent of football or baseball players who work out obsessively. My mouth went dry and my hands started shaking. I couldn't push the mower for a moment, so I just stood there and stared, the sun beating down on my head and back like a hammer on metal.
When he turned around to lean back against the car as he held the pump nozzle, I was knocked almost breathless for several moments as I took in his hairy chest and lean abs. The hair grew thickly over his bulging pecs and narrowed as it plunged to his belly and dipped beneath the waistband of his low-slung cutoffs. I couldn't help noticing a fairly large bulge going down one leg; something sure enough was pushing forward and letting itself be seen.
As I watched, he looked up and saw me. His smile was a white slash in his darkly tanned face. He raised a hand and waved. I could hardly lift my arm to wave back, I was struck with such a wave of lust washing over me.
After a few more moments, he glanced back down to finish filling his tank. I went back to mowing the lawn, going slowly around in a smaller and smaller circle, thinking there wouldn't be any more drama and that this was just a chance glance of a handsome stranger.
But this time, it was different. As I came back around to the street, I saw a thick mag wheel and a polished black fender. My eyes snapped up to see him smiling at me through the Camaro's open window, his brown eyes deep, warm, and friendly.
I cut off the mower and walked over to him slowly, trying not to seem too eager. I knew what he was seeing--my lean body, built like the swimmer I was then, my hair bleached blond from my lifeguard job at the local lake beach, my chest hair just coming into play, a light but well-defined happy trail, my legs strong and well-muscled from years of riding bicycles.
Resting my arms on the passenger door, I leaned into his car and smiled back. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the ECU Pirate logo in his back window, the purple and gold bright in the midafternoon sunshine.
"Hey, man, wassup?" My God, I thought, even his voice sounds sexier than James Bond's.
"Wassup?" I said, making my voice as deep as his so I'd seem older, though I was only in my last year of high school. He looked like such a man, not a college boy, his shoulders broad and thick with muscle. He must've outweighed me by at least 50 pounds, and I was six feet tall and 175 at the time.
"I been drivin' all day from Greenville, 'n' been sweatin' like a pig. Got any place 'n this town t' cool off?"
"Yeah, th' swimmin' pool, down near th' seminary," I said, trying to remember the English language and make sense while I watched a bead of sweat find the crest of one of his large, dark pink nipples. It hardened as I watched. His bulge shifted down toward his inner thigh. I raised my eyes to his face. I didn't think he'd seen where I was looking.
"How close 's that?" The low throb of the Camaro's engine changed slightly as he shifted in his seat, the muscles of his torso following his lower body one half-beat later. I swallowed--loudly, it seemed to me, though he didn't seem to notice.
"On th' oth'r side 'f town. Not far." I tried to be nonchalant. Maybe I could give him directions without jumping his bones.
But nothing could've prepared me for what he said next: "I git lost eas'ly, ev'n places I know. No sense 'f direction, y'know. Ya mind 'f I take a cold show'r here? I jist need t' cool off."
"Awright." Damn, I thought. DAMN. Did he really just ask that, and did I really just say it was okay? Is this man really gonna be naked in my home in just a few minutes?
[To be continued...]
_____
It was a hot day one July weekend in a small town in central NC. I was mowing the lawn at my parents' house the summer after my high school graduation. Their house was just up the street from a two-lane major mountains-to-the-beach route; lots of people stopped at the gas station on the corner, and I liked seeing how many different license plates I could recognize from about 100 yards away.
This afternoon, in the middle of mowing, I glanced down the street at the Texaco and saw a tall, heavily muscled college-age young man step out of his black Camaro, its T-tops open. His shirtless back rippled with muscles as he dug his wallet out of a back pocket. His physique was reminiscent of football or baseball players who work out obsessively. My mouth went dry and my hands started shaking. I couldn't push the mower for a moment, so I just stood there and stared, the sun beating down on my head and back like a hammer on metal.
When he turned around to lean back against the car as he held the pump nozzle, I was knocked almost breathless for several moments as I took in his hairy chest and lean abs. The hair grew thickly over his bulging pecs and narrowed as it plunged to his belly and dipped beneath the waistband of his low-slung cutoffs. I couldn't help noticing a fairly large bulge going down one leg; something sure enough was pushing forward and letting itself be seen.
As I watched, he looked up and saw me. His smile was a white slash in his darkly tanned face. He raised a hand and waved. I could hardly lift my arm to wave back, I was struck with such a wave of lust washing over me.
After a few more moments, he glanced back down to finish filling his tank. I went back to mowing the lawn, going slowly around in a smaller and smaller circle, thinking there wouldn't be any more drama and that this was just a chance glance of a handsome stranger.
But this time, it was different. As I came back around to the street, I saw a thick mag wheel and a polished black fender. My eyes snapped up to see him smiling at me through the Camaro's open window, his brown eyes deep, warm, and friendly.
I cut off the mower and walked over to him slowly, trying not to seem too eager. I knew what he was seeing--my lean body, built like the swimmer I was then, my hair bleached blond from my lifeguard job at the local lake beach, my chest hair just coming into play, a light but well-defined happy trail, my legs strong and well-muscled from years of riding bicycles.
Resting my arms on the passenger door, I leaned into his car and smiled back. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the ECU Pirate logo in his back window, the purple and gold bright in the midafternoon sunshine.
"Hey, man, wassup?" My God, I thought, even his voice sounds sexier than James Bond's.
"Wassup?" I said, making my voice as deep as his so I'd seem older, though I was only in my last year of high school. He looked like such a man, not a college boy, his shoulders broad and thick with muscle. He must've outweighed me by at least 50 pounds, and I was six feet tall and 175 at the time.
"I been drivin' all day from Greenville, 'n' been sweatin' like a pig. Got any place 'n this town t' cool off?"
"Yeah, th' swimmin' pool, down near th' seminary," I said, trying to remember the English language and make sense while I watched a bead of sweat find the crest of one of his large, dark pink nipples. It hardened as I watched. His bulge shifted down toward his inner thigh. I raised my eyes to his face. I didn't think he'd seen where I was looking.
"How close 's that?" The low throb of the Camaro's engine changed slightly as he shifted in his seat, the muscles of his torso following his lower body one half-beat later. I swallowed--loudly, it seemed to me, though he didn't seem to notice.
"On th' oth'r side 'f town. Not far." I tried to be nonchalant. Maybe I could give him directions without jumping his bones.
But nothing could've prepared me for what he said next: "I git lost eas'ly, ev'n places I know. No sense 'f direction, y'know. Ya mind 'f I take a cold show'r here? I jist need t' cool off."
"Awright." Damn, I thought. DAMN. Did he really just ask that, and did I really just say it was okay? Is this man really gonna be naked in my home in just a few minutes?
[To be continued...]
