TIM'S EXCITING SUMMER From the Jockey Club BBS, CA

The sun was just dropping below the horizon as Tim Claver glanced out the
window of the bus.  They were speeding down the straight highway bordered on
both sides by farms as far as the eye could see.  Tim was happy.  School was
over for the summer and he had three full months before he had to return to
Chicago for his final year of high school.  Several weeks earlier, after being
perturbed at not being able to find a job for the summer, a letter had come
from his Uncle Bob in Kansas.  The letter had been an invitation to spend a
month on the farm.  Time had leapt at the chance.  He had been anxious to get
our of the hustle and bustle of the city, and since he hadn't been able to find
a job, this was just the chance he had been waiting for.

Aunt Alice had died suddenly two years earlier, so Uncle Bob now lived alone in
the big house with his son, Dave.  Dave was around Tim's age, but Time could
hardly remember him.  Uncle Bob's family had never come to Chicago to visit the
Clavers, and Tin's family had only been once to visit the farm when Time was
eight years old.  So, time was looking forward to seeing his relatives again.
Tim stretched his large frame in the seat tugging at his tight Levis where
they were pulling at the crotch.  Tim ran his fingers through his soft, blond
hair, and adjusted his sunglasses.  He had matured fast and he was proud of the
way others looked at him.  He frequently caught admiring glances coming his
way, from the guys as well as the girls.  He had on a new pair of Levis that
his mother had insisted that he wear, though he had insisted that he would be
more comfortable in his old faded pair.  But, no, she wanted him to make a good
impression, so here he was suffering in his seat.  Not only did the pants look
new, but the gaps between the buttons of the fly had the annoying habit of
opening far enough to show the white of his jockey shorts.  He had already
glimpsed two men staring at him.
 
There were few people in the bus as it droned along the highway.  Most of them
had gotten off in Kansas City.  Uncle Bob's farm was just outside of Abilene,
so Tim didn't have too much further to go.  In the seat across from him, Tim
glanced at a young sailor who had boarded the bus in Kansas City.  The sailor
was lying back in his seat, with his jacket over his lap. At first, Tim thought
he was asleep, but then he noticed the sailor's right hand was underneath the
jacket, which was moving up and down.

"Oh, wow," thought Tim, "it looks like he's jacking off in a public bus!"
As he continued to watch out of the corner of his eye, Tim could see the
rhythmic movements getting faster and faster and he could hear the sailor
starting to breathe heavier.  Tim's own dick began to harden as he realized
what the sailor was doing.  He made his tightly stretched Levis rub over his
stiffening cock.  He felt the rod getting hard and thick, pushing up along his
belly until the bulbous head was touching the bottom of his brief's elastic
waistband.  Tim pushed his right leg out, stretching it and making room in his
pants for his dick.  Tim had discovered the pleasures of jacking off a few
years before, but, while he enjoyed doing it, he never would have dared it
where someone else might happen to notice.

Just then, the bus driver pulled into a small town, bring the bus to a stop in
front of a well-lighted restaurant.

"We'll have a fifteen minute rest stop," he called out.

The sailor, after a little activity under his jacket, had gotten up to leave
the bus, and Tim, curious, followed at a safe distance.  As the sailor stepped
down the steps of the bus to the platform, Tim was right behind him, and he
noticed the outlines of his underpants through the tight white material of his
uniform.

As he reached the light, the sailor stopped briefly at the candy counter and
Tim noticed how really handsome he was.  He looked not much older than Tim,
with dark hair and a well-tanned complexion.  As she reached up to pay for his
candy bar, Tim couldn't help but notice the long, stiff rod that was perfectly
obvious through the tight pants.

Tim's cock stirred again, and he wondered, "What's the matter with me?  Why
should I find this sailor so interesting?"

Unable to restrain himself, Tim followed the sailor as he went into the men's
room.  As Tim entered, he noticed the door of the last cubicle closing and
under it saw the sailor turn around and drip his pants to the floor.
Hesitatingly, Tim entered the next cubicle, and unbuckled his Levis.  As he
pulled them down, he could feel his now erect dick straining to get out of the
soft, white material of his jockey shorts.  He traced the outline of the hard
rod before pulling the shorts down and sitting on the toilet, wondering what
was happening next door.  Tim was a little disturbed to find that several holes
had been bored in the wall.

"What if he can see me, the way I am?"  thought Tim, and he pushed his erect
cock down between his legs.

Tim tried keeping his eyes straight ahead, but as he heard a soft rhythmic
sound from the next booth, he stealthily glanced over toward one of the holes.
It was small, and at first he couldn't make out anything through it.  Suddenly
there was movement, and as his eyes focused, he was able to make out a long,
thick cock, sticking out of the fly of a pair of tight briefs, being gently
massage by the sailor's hand. Tim's own cock was straining between his legs.
He reached down and began to stroke it, slowly so the movements could not be
heard.  Tim could sense the sailor moving closer to the wall.

"Was he listening, or looking through the hole himself?" wondered Tim.

Then, through the hole he had been looking through, Tim saw a rolled sheet of
toilet paper being pushed through.  With trembling hands, he pulled it out,
unrolled it, and read what had been hastily penciled on one side--

"Why don't you push it through the large hole?"

Tim was aghast.  What did this guy mean?  Sure enough, there was a hole about
an inch and a half in diameter just in front of him.

"I guess he wants to see my cock," thought Tim, "Oh well, why not; what can I
lose?"

So, standing and facing the wall, letting his pants and briefs drop to the
floor, Tim placed his erect lance through the hole.  Was that a sigh he heard?
He was about to pull it back, when he felt the softest tough as the sailor's
fingers, feathery light, brushed over the straining purple head. Slowly, they
strayed down the shaft, playing with the folds of skin, tweaking the wispy
hairs that grew around the base.

Tim was petrified, but he didn't move.  He was feeling the strangest and most
wonderful sensation.  Then, he started, as something moist touched the shaft.
The sailor's tongue had taken the place of his fingers, and it was tracing
circles on Tim's hot flesh.

"Oh wow," murmured Tim as the sailor's mouth closed delicately over the head,
and stared a slow, sucking motion.

Tim bent his knees and strained against the wall.  Jacking off had never felt
like this.  His cock was expanding and expanding until he was sure it would
burst.  Ecstasy overcame Tim.

"Oh, man," he exclaimed, "keep it up, don't stop...don't stop ...oh, man,
ohhhh!"  tim could not hold back his climax, and he shot and shot into the
greedy mouth; time and time again he came, while the sailor licked every last
drop of thick boy cum.  Weakly, Tim fell back on the seat, closing his eyes to
relive the delicious sensation.  My, he had never felt anything like that every
before in his whole life.

"Bus number 2846 is now boarding," blared the loud speaker to bring Tim our of
his reverie.

As Tim pulled up his jockey shorts and pants, he noticed that the sailor had
already returned to the bus.  Tim hurried back to his seat just as the bus
lurched back onto the highway.  As he glanced across the aisle, he saw the
sailor look up and smile at him.  Tim shyly smiled back and drifted off into a
restful sleep.