Officers' Boy
By: Kenneth Kirk
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

kkirk@tickiestories.us

Chapter 2

Racer’s first visit to Starbuck’s had been on the second Monday in May.  His second visit was three days later, on Thursday the 15^th.  This time Sylvia saw him first.  “Stud alert,” she whispered and tilted her head toward the front door.

When I looked toward the entrance, the first thing I saw was a stud in black Lycra that showed off a lean and well-muscled body.  He parked the bike, secured it to our fence with a chain and lock, and came into our store.  When he saw me staring at him, he gave me a full, open smile, teeth gleaming all over the place.  A nanosecond later I recognized the face of the handsome Racer with his scruffy cheeks, fine nose, and his silky brown hair.  As I ogled him, he removed his mirrored sunglasses to reveal his dark eyes, full of mystery and mirth all at the same time.  My cock lurched in my briefs and my breathing stopped. 

As he approached the counter, I saw that the fabric was stretched so thin across his firm pecs that I thought I could see spaces between the threads.  His abdominal washboard looked as if it had been spray-painted black.  The tight shorts revealed a large round lump of testicles caught between powerful thighs and … oh my god … a thick sausage that ran across the left side of the shorts onto his hip.  Holy baloney!

When he was so close to the counter that I could no longer see below his waist, I slowly drew my eyes up across his divine torso until I could look into his deep brown eyes.

“Good afternoon, Eric,” he said with that melodious deep voice.

“Hi, Sir,” I croaked out.

“Please, all my friends call me Racer,” he said.

“Sure.  Uhm, Racer.”  We stared at each other for a moment.  “Would you like a Veranda blend?”

“Yes, I would.  Please.”

I punched in the codes and took the $5 bill he handed me. 

As I handed him his change, he said, “Is it okay if I wait outside?”

“Of course,” I smiled.  “I’ll bring it out to you.”

“Would you put in enough cream to make it a nice caramel color?”

“Uhm, sure.”

He loitered in the afternoon sun near his red racing bicycle while I made his pour-over. 

Sylvia smirked at me the whole time.  As I passed behind her to take the coffee out, she needled me, “Take five.”

“Thank you!” I said sweetly as I walked to the condiment table to get Racer’s cream.  The thought “get Racer’s cream” made my cock twitch some more.  I looked out the window as I poured half and half into his coffee.  He faced way from me, which gave me a perfect view of his back and buttocks, both of which were beautiful.  His traps and dorsals were so well-developed they made his spine seem deep in his body.  And his ass was two perfect melons of firm Lycra-covered flesh I wanted desperately to caress.  My cock twitched again. 

When I came through the door, he looked toward the “skuuunch” sound the door makes.  His mouth opened into his million-watt smile when he saw it was me.  I handed him his coffee as he looked me up and down.

“Why, Eric,” he said with amusement, “you look hot in those jeans.”

I’m sure my face went immediately purple!  He can see my hardon, I thought.  I hung my head in shame.

“It’s okay,” he laughed, touching my arm lightly.  “With a body like yours, you should always wear tight clothes.”

“Oh!” I cried without thinking.

He laughed again.

“Do you ride?” he asked.

Ride?  “Uh, bikes?”

“Uhm-hm.”

“Yeah, I do.  In fact, I ride to work every day.  My bike is behind the store.”

“Would you like to ride after your shift some evening?”

“You mean, with you?”

He grinned.  “If that would be alright.”

“Oh, sure,” I blushed.

“How about Monday?”

I nodded, somewhat surprised he obviously remembered my schedule.

“Good, I’ll be out front here at 7:00.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have your phone?”

I nodded and he held out his palm, wiggling his fingers as if to say, “Give it to me.”  I pulled my Samsung from my pocket.  He took it, smiled at me, and entered a phone number.  He punched the call button and a phone in the saddlebags straddling his crossbar jingled.  He punched the end call button and smiled.   “Now we have each other’s number.  Just in case.”

He handed me the phone and slung one muscle-y leg over the crossbar. 

“Have a good weekend, Eric,” he said as he started to ride away.

“You, too!” I called after him, watching the flexing of his calves as he pumped the pedals.  I watched him ride out of sight going north on Central Avenue, which happens to be in the direction of my house, too.

Back inside, Sylvia called me over.  “What was that business with your phone?” she asked harshly.

“Wow,” I said, “can’t a person get a little privacy?”

“Nope,” she smirked, “not while you’re on my time.” 

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds.

“So?  What gives with the phone?”

I sighed in mock disgust.  “He called himself so we have each other’s number.”

“I knew it!” she said triumphantly.  Appreciatively, she went on.  “He’s as suave as he is sexy!”

Later, when I told her about our appointment to go for a ride, she forbade me using the term “appointment” to refer to any arrangement with the “drop-dead gorgeous” Racer.

“You have a date to go for a ride after work Monday,” she said emphatically.

“If you say so,” I said dismissively.

“What are you going to wear?”

“I don’t know.  My cut-offs?”

“Uh, no-o-o!”

“What then, a tuxedo?”

“Very funny, Big Dick.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s better than ‘Tiny Prick,’ don’t you think?”  She grinned evilly.

“Of course!” I chuckled.

“You don’t have a fancy riding suit, like his?”

“You think my dad would let me wear something so suggestive?”

“Not Old Mr. Stuck-in-the-Fifties,” she groaned.  “So, I’m taking you shopping Sunday afternoon.” 

********

After an excruciating Sunday afternoon fried chicken dinner with the Samuels and their horny daughter Stephanie, Sylvia picked me up in her cherry red VW Beetle and headed straight for Dick’s Sporting Goods.  Syl and I had a great time looking at cycling clothes with a good deal of help from a hot Italian-looking guy who seemed to think she was prettier than Miss America.  It was hysterical.  Syl is beautiful, but at 26 she’s not interested in a 19-year-old jock with an IQ equal to his age.  So, she ignored him completely, which made him try harder to get her attention.  He spent so much time preening, showing off his biceps and pecs and pushing his crotch at her, that I actually got embarrassed for him.  He completely lost his dignity in the shadow of her beauty and disinterest.  But I didn’t much care because I was getting off on lusting after him.

After almost an hour, we had selected (no thanks to the useless Guido) dark blue compression shorts and top that really did make me look “stunning,” according to Syl.  In addition to clinging to my skin in much the way Racer’s outfit clung to him, the aqua color across my chest brought out the blue in my eyes like nothing ever has.  And my blond locks looked hot next to that color, too.  Syl finally looked at Guido and asked him if he didn’t think I was stunning in the outfit.  With barely a sideways glance, he mumbled something about “looks great.”

I kept studying the price tags to calculate how many weeks I would have to work to pay for these new clothes.  The answer was somewhere between two and three.  Sigh.

“Syl,” I finally said.  “I love them, but I can’t afford this much.  I’m saving for Baylor in the fall.”

“Did I ask you?” she said disgustedly.  “I was going to buy you a cat for graduation, but I guess this will have to do.”

I laughed because she knows I’m allergic to cats. 

We said goodbye to Guido, who had followed us to the car (idiot!) and drove to TCBY for a yogurt (my treat) before she took me home.  We agreed she would keep the clothes for me and I could change into them after my shift on Monday. 

********

I had a bit of trouble sleeping on Sunday night because of the excitement about my first date with Racer.

We were beginning to move into the home stretch at school, but I was rather distracted through Engineering Math and Engineering Physics the next morning.  After lunch we had our discussion of the dreaded Beowulf, which I made very few comments about.  At lunch my best friend and tennis partner Roger Harrison asked me what was wrong with me today.  I said I hadn’t slept well and he accepted that without asking for any reasons.  I was grateful since I’m not out to him, or anyone else for that matter.  Syl is the only one who knows the real me.

There are a few gay kids at Hillsborough High, and I don’t have anything against them or against being like them.  The reason I have kept it quiet at school is not for fear of bullying or anything negative from the kids.  I’m just trying to be sure it doesn’t get to my dad, who would go ballistic for sure if he knew.  His God is this judgmental traffic cop who will let me rot (or burn) in hell for something I didn’t choose like my blue eyes or blond hair.  Thanks be to God that I have actually encountered a God who is much more laid back and, uh, loving than Dad’s version.  I’m not very thrilled with church, but I do like God pretty well.

Anyhow, after my swimming session, I showered and then hopped on my bike to ride the half mile to work, where I arrived with 10 minutes to change before I signed in.

Sylvia handed me the sack with my riding clothes in it and said, “Try to keep your cock soft until you leave the store!”

I blushed but couldn’t think of anything to say.

My shift went okay.  Luckily Kelly had taken the shift off to study for a history test, so I stayed busy the whole time.  Before I knew it, Syl tapped me on the back and said, “Get out of here!”

I glanced at my phone to see it was 6:52.  Wow, Syl was giving me time to change.  She gives me a hard time a lot, but I know she would do anything for me, including helping me with Racer.  In the restroom, I washed my face and pits, deodorized, dressed in my racing togs and sneakers, and made sure my hair was perfect.  I took a deep breath and walked out.  As I stepped into the seating area, Syl snapped a picture with her phone, then gave me a quick hug.

“I love you, Syl.”

“You, too, Big Dick.”  As I groaned, she kissed my cheek and patted my rump (!) before turning me toward the front door.  “He’s been waiting.”

“Bye!” I called and headed out.

“Have fun!”

I took a deep breath and opened the door.  Skuuunch!

To be continued...

Posted: 04/08/2022