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People Watching, (c) Copyright, 2002,2003
Author: Jamieson Wolf Villeneuve
Year: 2003 - E-mail address of author j.wolf@sympatico.ca
The
streets were covered in a patchwork of rainbow coloured splotches after
the rain. Wide purple arcs, shining yellow lines, curves, opals,
brightness caressing the streets with colour, passion. Flame brought to
life, for a split second, an oil spill dream that tantalizes the mind.
Jason’s mind was contemplating autumn. He heard the leaves crunching,
scrunching, under his feet, cold sun shining through the branches of
trees. He was in an aimless mood, unsure of his destination, so he
simply let his mind wander, dillydally, as he kept walking.
The sky, a light grey after having unleashed itself, unburdened itself
of its watery secrets, kept watch over him. He ambled down sidewalks and
past coffee houses. Conversation, snippets of these peoples lives, slid
past him, engulfed him in their world, even for that one split second.
Parliament Hill. Now knowing how he had ended up here, and not really
caring, he sat down on a bench, still wet with rain and stiffened
slightly when he felt the water soak his pants, his underwear. The
wetness chilled his skin, but also excited him. It made him feel naked.
His bench was hidden from view, placed as it was behind a small wall of
trees. Jason could hear the wind talking to the leaves, could almost
here the clouds shifting position, dancing with the wind, filling
themselves up with moisture for their next release. If you thought about
it, nature was very sexual. Jason smiled to himself.
The cold air was making his nipples hard, erect. He ran his hands along
the front of his sweater, ran his fingers over his nipples. His cock
responded, blood flowing into it, hardening, just like his nipples. He
pinched the right nipple. A spasm of pleasure stung his body and he
drank it in, rolled his tongue around in his mouth as if he were tasting
that pleasure, savouring it.
He stopped when he heard a rustle in the grass and carpet of leaves. The
sound was coming from his left and getting louder. Someone was entering
the clearing. He would no longer be alone. He sighed internally and
pulled a paperback book out of his coat pocket.
Two men sat down at a bench about thirty paces from him. Because he was
hidden by the trees, cocooned. He slid further back along the bench,
towards the trees. Shadows covered him, scent of pine, oak leaves and
crisp air. He watched at the two men sat, close to each other, knees
touching, eyes smiling.
They were both beautiful, Jason’s ideal specimen of the male species.
The one on the right was broad shouldered and dark haired; black eyes
blinked and twinkled with laughter as the man laughed at something his
companion said. Full lips and dark curly hair that rested on his
shoulders gave the man a European look. Jason wondered idly whether or
not the man had any chest hair.
His
companion was slender and fair haired, short cropped blond hair that sat
over top of crystal clear green eyes that seemed to be made of emeralds,
smoked in fire, in dreams. Eyes you could get lost in, that could drill
in to you. They were both different from Jason’s own short, dark wavy
hair and deep brown eyes. But Jason didn’t mind. He craved diversity
in his eye candy. As well as his bed partners.
Neither man could see him. Jason put his book down and contented himself
with watching them, studying them, cataloguing them to memory. He
watched the dark haired mans Adams Apple move up and down as he laughed,
heard the deep baritone tones of his voice that escaped past his lips.
Watched the blond haired man smile, one finger going up to his mouth,
teeth nibbling on the soft sin on the underside of his finger, perhaps
in a nervous gesture.
Jason imagined tracing his tongue along the jaw line of the black haired
man, feeling the mans stubble prick his tongue, his lips, salty with
sweat. Imagined taking the blond haired mans tongue into his mouth,
feeling the bumps and grooves of it as if moved around inside his mouth,
tasting him.
Then the two men began to kiss and Jason’s world was thrown into
overdrive. A heady sense of wonder, lust, slammed into his head with a
rush, watching, looking. The two men inched closer together, lips barely
touching, the black haired mans lips shaped in a pout, bottom lip
looking succulent. Delectable. They inched slowly forward, slow motion
movements. Jason could still hear the trees whispering through the
leaves and the sound seemed to form a musical backdrop for the scene
before him. A soft, barely audible wwwwwsssseeeee filled the trees and
shook more leaves to the ground. And the black haired man took the
others face in his hands and lowered his lips to the blond haired mans
mouth.
Jason could feel himself growing more aroused, more firm, as the kiss
progressed. Their lips ground against each others, the kisses starting
out as nibbles, bites, soft sounds of longing held deep in throats. The
kisses escalated, bites turning into licks and nibbles along the neck,
deep in the crevice of the collar bone. Jason could feel their heat from
where he was sitting, could see the steam rising off of their skin, heat
billowing like smoke in the cool air.
A deep moan emanated from deep in the throat of the blond haired man as
the other one ran his tongue slowly along his neck, biting just under
the blond haired mans earlobe. Jason could hardly breathe, dared not
too, hold the air in, lest one of the men hear him, see him. Jason didn’t
mind the fear he was feeling, in fact he welcomed it, encouraged it to
run with lust through his veins. For even fear could be an aphrodisiac.
He watched as the blond haired man, oblivious to the fact that they were
being watched, began to unbutton the dark haired mans shirt, button by
button, slowly revealing a soft, subtle mat of curly, dark chest hair.
The mans skin had a colour to it, coffee mixed with cream. He watched as
the blond haired man pulled the shirt open, revealing toned pecks and
two dime sized nipples, pink and hard in the cold. The rose colour of
the nipples stood out against the mans skin and Jason longed to lower
his mouth around one of them, nibbling and sucking, hearing the mans
heart beat, feeling it beat through the surface of his lips. He watched
as the blond haired man began to tweak the dark haired mans right
nipple, pinching it, causing the other to gasp, a sharp intake of
breath.
The blond haired man lowered his lips, his mouth to the others nipple
and began to suck and to bite. Jason stifled a moan just as the black
haired man released one, quiet, held back, reserved. Jason wondered
vaguely what he could do to this man, this Adonis; so that he would cry
out, moan out loud with force. Such thoughts were the food of fantasies.
Jason watched the black haired man let his head fall back, holding on to
the back of the blond haired man, his eyes closed in passion, in
submissiveness. Contentment, sublime. He watched as the blond haired
man, still suckling at the others nipple, began to undo the black haired
mans pants, massaging his crotch lightly, tantalizing, with his fingers.
The black haired man, Adonis, wore pristine white underwear and this
somehow excited Jason more. It reminded him of perfection, purity,
virginity.
He felt his mouth stifle a gasp as the blond haired man uncovered Adonis’
penis, his cock. It popped up from the virgin white underwear, already
hard and dripping a substance that was not unlike honey, or saliva. It
was long and thick and Jason felt the heat of lust growing in his chest,
tight, hard to breathe. A fire had been ignited in his belly and he
chose to release it, to set it free.
Slowly, so as not to attract attention to himself, he unbuttoned his own
jeans. His penis was already hard, pulsing, vibrating, throbbing. Jason
could still hear the wind telling secrets to the clouds, the rustle of
leaves as the wind dipped down and could hear the air hush as the blond
haired man took the head of Adonis’ cock in his mouth.
Adonis, as Jason had come to think of him, cupped his hand around the
back of the blond mans head, tangling his fingers in the others hair,
pulling at it, forcing him down the shaft of his penis, gently, but
forcefully. Jason could tell he wanted more, wanted to feel his cock
deep in the blond haired mans throat, deep in the darkness of passion,
excitement, lust.
Jason began to stroke his own penis in rhythm with Adonis, every time
the blond haired mans head went down the shaft of Adonis’ cock, so his
hand slicked down his own. His presence still unknown to the other two,
they stroked together, up down, up down, up down. Jason watched as the
blond haired man removed his own penis from the confines of his pants, a
bush of light brown pubic hair sprouting forth from the open mouth of
the fly. Rock hard, he began to stroke as well, the three of them
seeming to pump and jerk in unison, up down, up down. The head of Jason’s
cock pulsed with heat. His skin, hot, sweaty.
The blond haired man increased speed, his head bobbing up and down
quickly, saliva dripping from his lips into the hair surrounding Adonis’
penis, soaking it. The blond haired man was getting close. He moaned
deep in his throat, still sliding up and down Adonis’ cock, and began
to cum in wide arch’s; his cum hit the leaves with a satisfying sound,
as if it was raining once again. He increased speed once more, and then
Adonis began to moan. He was going to cum.
Jason increased his own speed, sliding up and down the shaft of his
penis quickly now, trying to match Adonis, wanting to cum with him, to
share that bond with him, to have that one moment of passion embedded in
his brain, a picture burnt, fused to his retina’s. Adonis gave one
deep, quiet moan and opened his eyes.
He looked straight at Jason, watching him stroke himself. And he smiled.
It was the smile that drove Jason over the edge, the edge of reason, and
he stifled a groan deep in his throat just as he started to cum, white
rain for an autumn’s day. Adonis, about to cum, pulled his penis out
of the blond haired mans mouth, so Jason could see him cum, spurt, rain.
He smiled at Jason again and winked. The blond haired man never knew
that what they had done had been witnessed. It made it more exciting,
somehow, that it was a secret, a shared secret.
After Adonis and his lover left, Jason was still sitting there on the
bench, his cock still hard even after reaching climax, still solid. He
closed his eyes again and thought of Adonis, his face, his nipples. The
sound of his voice. As he began to cum again, stroking himself slowly, a
soft rain began to fall, a mist, adding a soft hiss to the
wwwwwssssseeee of the wind in the leaves. And Jason added one more sound
to that cacophony of nature music. More white rain for a cool autumn’s
day.
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I
am a young author living in Ottawa Ontario Canada and have had my work
published in a variety of publications.
I have published the following:
- “Floor”
in The Everyman’s Journal, Summer 2000 (poetry)
- “Cupids
Disciple” in The Everyman’s Journal, Summer 2000 (Poetry)
- “Crossroads”
in Mytholog Magazine, December 2002\
- “13”
in Mytholog Magazine, March 2003
- “Beauty”
in Clean Sheets Online Erotica Magazine, Forthcoming June
publication
- “The
Muse” in Green Man Review, bi monthly column for October and
December 2002
- “Magic
Man” in Slow Trains Magazine, March 2003
- “Crow
Dreams Vibrant” in Muse It Magazine, March 2003
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