go and have brunch. It felt odd to be out with Adam in public ... it felt
almost as if I was hanging out with a different person. So much of my time
with him had been spent naked and in the throes of passion. Actually
sitting across a diner table from him as we ate our bacon and eggs was
almost an alien experience. But every so often I would get a flash in my
mind of how his hard cock felt in my hand or mouth, or remember the timbre
of his voice as he whispered "fuck me," or the musky scent that rose to my
nostrils when I ran my tongue over his balls.
We went for a walk after brunch through one of the parks in the town, and
he mentioned admiringly that it must be a lovely place to jog in nice
weather. I agreed. "Do you run?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied. "Most days, once it gets warm. In the winter I work out
in the university gym."
"Yes, I figured you must," he said slyly, not looking at me, but the tone
of his voice made my stomach flutter.
"Did you want to go for a run?" I asked, trying to take my mind away from
the thought of his body.
He hesitated. "Well, I did bring my shoes and shorts. Just in case." He
looked at me. "Would you want to go?"
"I haven't run outside since the weather got warm," I admitted. "I've been
lazy."
Surreptitiously, he poked me in the gut. "It doesn't show."
"Not yet," I grinned. "But it will soon if I don't get out there again. Not
all of us have the seventeen-year-old's constitution."
He looked at me challengingly. "Oh, I don't know. You seem to be able to
keep up OK."
Our double entendres weren't even all that lewd, and yet even the barest
suggestion of sex with Adam made me slightly light-headed. "So ... back to
the apartment, and then a run?"
I wondered if it would be possible for us to change into our running gear
without it turning into a sex session ... lord knows, it took all of my
willpower to keep my mind from thoughts that would give me a raging hardon.
But somehow we managed it ... I think because, even though neither of us
said anything, we were both thinking about it, and we kept carefully apart
as we stripped down and dressed in shorts and running shoes. "Let's stretch
at the park," I suggested, thinking that if I were to watch him bending
over in my living room, there would be nothing else for it but to take him
right there. His offhand comment that morning "You HAVE to fuck me again
later" was rattling around in my mind, distracting me at the most
inopportune times. What was worse, I could tell that Adam knew exactly what
was on my mind. But that was fair enough, as I had caught him a few times
staring at me with distant eyes, his delicious mouth slightly open.
We walked from my place down to the river and did our stretching beside the
jogging path. My god, he was divine—as he did lunges to stretch out his
hamstrings, his ass strained against the thin material of his jogging
shorts. His legs were long and well-muscled, nicely tanned already, and his
tank top clung appealingly to his slim torso.
It was obvious he was in much better shape than I was at that point, which
was hardly surprising. He had been, after all, on both the track and swim
teams at his high school, whereas I just ran for the sake of maintaining a
decent level of fitness. A few times he raced me when we hit a long flat
section of trail; each time, he demolished me, and I made a mental note to
make him suffer for it later. Finally, after we had run for nearly half an
hour, we turned around and came back. It was something of a long run for
me—I tended to max out at forty-five minutes—but somehow having Adam
there gave me extra energy. When we got back to my apartment, we were both
sweaty and tired. But not so tired that I didn't grab him as soon as the
door was closed behind us.
I pulled him too me and kissed him, and ran my tongue down his
neck. Giggling in embarrassment, he pulled away saying, "Don't. I'm all
gross."
"Sweaty and gross are not the same thing," I growled, running my hand up
over his crotch and finding that he was already hard and straining at the
material there. He moaned, his protests dissolving. I returned my tongue to
his neck, savoring the saltiness of his sweat, pulling his damp shirt up
over his head. His torso glistened, and I ducked my head to swirl my tongue
around his nipple. I reached up and teased the other one with my
fingertips. He moaned again, and pressed his hips against mine. The
material of our shorts provided a silky barrier than only enhanced the
sensation of rubbing our hard cocks against each other. As I licked and
sucked his nipples, I swung my hips back and forth, grinding against him.
Finally I fell to my knees and yanked his shorts and underwear down. His
cock swayed enticingly in front of my face. The smell of his young, clean
sweat was intoxicating, and I slowly licked up the underside of his
shaft. He moaned. "Suck me," he begged, but I wasn't done yet. I wanted to
taste his cock sweat, to drink it all, and I licked him with increasing
urgency, lapping up the delicious salty sweat that coated his shaft,
pausing in that for a few minutes to suck and lick his balls. All the while
he rested his hands on my head, moaning and muttering incoherently. I
returned to his cock, running the full surface of my tongue up one side
while I held it steady and suddenly it JUMPED out of my hand and with a
strangled yelp Adam came in three explosive bursts on my hand, my face, and
in my hair.
"Sorry," he gasped. "That one caught me by surprise."
I laughed. "Don't apologize. I love how suddenly you sometimes cum. I love
it when you lose control like that."
He pulled me to my feet and very carefully and deliberately lapped his cum
from my face. He ran a hand through my hair, smearing the semen there, and
dropped his other hand to where my cock strained against my shorts. He
squeezed it, and I groaned, my eyes closing involuntarily.
"How do you feel after our run?" he asked unexpectedly.
"OK, I guess," I said. "A little sore.