Out on the Bike Path IV: Those Fucking Potholes!

Out on the Bike Path IV: Those Fucking Potholes!

   Oh my gosh, guys, you’ll never believe what just happened to me on the bike path just a few hours ago. I’m still in shock. In delicious shock!

   Living in Montreal, the winter months are really tough on me because although I’m not an exercise nut in any sense of the expression, I do like to get a work out by riding my bike, either just riding on the great bike paths we have in the city or using my bike to get to work when I have voice gigs at different studios downtown or rehearsals for theatre gigs.

   A few months ago, I started a new job in the Quartier des Spectacles district, which is Montreal’s answer to Broadway or London’s Theatreland in the West End. When the weather is shitty, I use public transit ‘cause I hate driving my car in the city but as soon as weather permits, it’s the bike all the way.

   I really love this new job and the people I work with but today was a rough one. I had some annoying, entitled people to deal with on the phone and it just felt like everybody was cranky and pissed for some reason. When the day ended, I was thrilled to hop on my bike and fly home, building up my cardio and bringing my blood pressure back down.

   The annoying part of the nice weather season coming back in Montreal is that construction starts up again, too, so we have all these detours and orange construction cones everywhere. And since our winters are crazy – some really cold days, some warmer days – our streets and bike paths really go through the ringer and become so full of holes, it’s like driving or riding on the moon.

   As I was riding home, looking down at the asphalt so not to hit too many potholes, I went down under an overpass close to the Lachine Canal and saw this guy coming toward me in the other direction. I didn’t get a chance to get a look at him at first because I was concentration on what I was doing, but I could tell he was one of those real cyclists – you know the type. The guy that enters races and challenges and always wears the Lycra shirts and pants with all the sponsor logos on them. He was about to race by me when he pulled a towel to his brow to wipe it and hit the most horrible pothole you can imagine.

   He hit it so hard I swallowed air.

   – Yikes…

   I don’t know why that is the word that came out of my mouth, but his were much more explicit.

    ̶  Ugh…. Fuuuuuuuuck!

   I slammed on my brakes and pretty much came to a grinding halt right next to him. After his expression of pain, it looked like he was holding his breath. Or just not breathing! He got off his bike seat, straddling the bar of his bike and bent forward, leaning onto his left arm over his handlebars.

   – Are you alright? I asked.

   I knew it was a stupid question, and I wasn’t really surprised that he didn’t answer right away because he was clearly in excruciating pain and was probably embarrassed, too. The way he was rubbing his crotch, he had clearly hit his balls pretty hard and had gotten the wind knocked out of him. Any guy who’s a guy knows what that feels like.

   After a few seconds that seemed to last like minutes, he drew breath sharply, just like somebody who’d be coming out of the water after a while.

    ̶  Fuckin’ ‘ell! he exclaimed, standing back up, still massaging his package through the Lycra.

   I was surprised to hear a British accent, but hey… Montreal is a really cosmopolitan city.

   – Welcome to Montreal, I said with a bit of irony in my voice.

   – Ugh… I know, right? Goddamn potholes.

   – Sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to make light of your pain.

   – I know, man, I get it. Just got it straight in the gonads, you know? Stings like bloody hell.

   He stretched the opening of his pants with one hand and reached into them with his other, clearly cupping his balls and massaging them like he was alone. My eyes popped out of my head and I felt a churning in my own pants … which were plain old jeans ‘cause I’d been at work all day.

   – Damned if this is a proper place to massage my balls, he whispered. But I’m in fucking pain here, you know?

   – Sure, I replied. Don’t worry about it. At least it happened under the overpass. A little more discreet, right?

   – I guess, he mumbled. Fuckin’ got the wind knocked out of me, you know?

   – Believe me, I know, I answered, fixated on what he was doing and starting to breathe with difficulty myself… but for a completely different reason!

   – Can you imagine having bruises on your ball sac?

   He was still massaging his nuts with his hand down his pants and making me hard in my jeans.

   – Ouch…

   – Fucking embarrassing, too, right?

   – Well, it’s not like you walk around with your junk for all to see…

   – That’s true. But still, you know?

   – Yeah, I get it, I said, almost because I didn’t feel comfortable disagreeing with him in the circumstances.

   – Mind if I take a closer look? he asked.

   – What? I…

   That’s all I was able to say before he stretched out the front of his pants again and whipped out his cock and balls.

   – Ouch!

   My eyes widened again. I swallowed hard and looked around to make sure nobody was approaching.

   – Looks like my balls are going to be sensitive for a while… and not in the best way.

   He kept massaging his balls and bent over a bit to look down and inspect his package. He was making me crazy hot and looked like he didn’t even know that this could have that effect on people! Except I could see that his pale, uncut cock was already partially inflated.

   – Can’t really tell if they’re bruised, can I? he asked.

   – It, uh… might take a few hours before the bruising shows… if ever… I replied.

   – You a doctor? he asked.

   I chuckled and almost choked, surprised by his question. In my mind, I thought of those old commercials in which soap opera actors who portrayed doctors would say: “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV.” And I heard myself thinking: “No not a doctor but I know a thing or two about cocks and balls.” Thank God that didn’t come out of my mouth!

   – Uh, no,… er, just an actor… and writer, I stuttered.

   – Oh really? Well, that’s interesting.

   I couldn’t help but find it weird that we were having a plain old conversation about my occupations as he was massaging his heavy gonads hanging out of his Lycra biking pants. That’s when I saw his cock twitch and realized I wasn’t dreaming. He really was getting hard. Whether it was because he was really getting sexually aroused or just because his junk was out in the fresh air, I couldn’t tell.

   – What is it you write, mate? he asked.

   Hum… I’m sure he didn’t know what a huge door he was opening, but I thought to myself, “What am I gonna do here? Lie?”

   – Pretty much anything. Articles, I’ve published novels, short stories, I’ve written for the theatre and some TV scripts, erotica…

   – Erotica? he interrupted, looking up at me like he wasn’t expecting that. And why would he, right? You mean like Harlequin romances or porn?

   I chuckled again, partly from being uncomfortable and partly from just being amused by his choice of words.

   – A little bit of both, I guess. Or… maybe I should say… a mix.

   – That’s cool, he went on, looking me in the eyes now and still fondling his balls without paying any attention to his growing cock. I never met an erotica writer before.

   Although the situation was kind of erotic in its own right and had the potential to become overtly sexy, I was a bit offended by the simplistic way he was boxing me into one style or genre of writing.

   – Well, that’s not all I write.

   – No, of course, I get that, he backpedalled. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to offend you.

   – Oh you didn’t, I reassured him.

   – So… you’re not a doctor but… you’ve written a few? he said with a cute, coy smile.

   I laughed.

   – I can’t see for shit in this shade, he said, looking down at his balls again. Would you mind taking a closer look?

   I almost choked on my own spit, but managed to contain myself.

   – I guess I’m the closest thing to a cock and balls expert you’ll find out here on the bike path! I shot back.

   It was his turn to laugh. I looked around again and couldn’t believe how deserted the bike path had been in the last few minutes. So I knelt down and started eying his balls, searching for bruising. I didn’t touch – although I really felt like it – but I got pretty close, getting a good whiff of his sweaty musk.

   – See anything? he asked, pulling his cock up toward his belly so I’d get a better view.

   – Just a perfect pair of balls in a hot, sweaty ball sac, I replied.

   – Fuck, yeah, sorry about that.

   – Don’t worry about it, I replied, looking up at him. It’s all good.

   I just stayed there, staring into his eyes. Within a few seconds, he started stroking the underbelly of his hardening cock. The vein seemed to pulsate more and more and I just stayed there, squatting in front of him, his balls bobbing up and down a few inches from my nose and mouth.

   Then, suddenly, the look in his eyes changed and he suddenly looked really uncomfortable.

   – Somebody’s coming, he whispered.

   I stood back up quickly as he pushed his junk back into his Lycra pants. A couple of bikers sped by, ignoring us completely. We just stood there, looking at each other. After a few seconds, I looked down at his package and he suddenly grabbed me by my hair, at the back of my head and pulled me into a hot kiss. I had obviously felt some sexual tension, but I was not expecting such a bold move. At least not so quickly.

   The kiss was amazing and became more and more passionate. He interrupted it for a few seconds so he could get off his bike which fell to the ground as soon as he stopped straddling it. He pulled me back into another kiss and slammed his package against mine.

   – Ow… he mumbled in my mouth.

   We just burst out laughing.

   – Maybe you should try massaging it…

   I smiled.

   – I promise I’ll go very slowly and easy… so that I don’t hurt you.

   – But sometimes, a little pain adds to the pleasure.

   – Oh, so this was all a big ruse to make me massage your junk…?

   There was that coy smile again.

   We kissed again but then more cyclists started coming closer. We decided to leave our bikes against the wall of the overpass and went around to where nobody would see us.

   – I’m Ben, by the way…

   I caressed his crotch through the Lycra and felt his huge, throbbing cock in my hand.

   – Big Ben.

   – Like I never heard that one before.

   – Shut up.

   We both laughed and lay in the grass, kissing and humping each other.

   After a few minutes, I rolled him off me and pulled his biking pants off of him. I slowly started massaging his balls and listening for his moans. They definitely sounded more like pleasure than pain so I kept going. Ben grabbed his meat and started jacking off, making his balls dance on my fingers. I brought my mouth down to those babies and swabbed them with my tongue. He moaned again.

   – Yeah, that’s it. Lick them and make them all better.

   I kept my comment to myself but did smile from the cheesiness of his line. I got back to licking his sweaty, salty balls and even licked his groin. Then, I pinched the soft skin of his ball sack and lifted it up, swabbing the underside of his balls and the sensitive skin between his sack and his ass hole.

   – Fuck, mate. You’re making me all better.

   – I can feel that.

   My cock was so hard and pushing against my briefs in my jeans. I was humping the grass at this point as I was edging him toward an orgasm.

   – Oh, mate, you’re going to make me cum.

   I let go of everything and stood up. He looked up, surprised, and watched me kick off my shoes and pull down my jeans. My olive bamboo briefs had a huge spot of pre-cum seeping through them.

   – Did I do that? he asked.

   – You did, I replied.

   I slipped out of my briefs and my hard cock sprang loose, eager for some action of its own. Ben reached up and grabbed it, using it to pull me closer to him. When it was only a few inches from his mouth, he started jacking it, pulling my foreskin on and off my cock head, over and over. My cock was glistening with pre-cum and lubricated his hand.

   – Your balls are big, too, he commented.

   – Except mine aren’t swollen from getting hit by a bicycle seat.

   He didn’t reply and just shoved my cock in his mouth, almost making me lose my balance. I fucked his face for a little while, standing in front of him but I really wanted to get back to caressing his cock and balls so I made a move, getting in a 69 position so he could keep swallowing me while I could do the same.

   – Oh, mate. That feels amazing.

   I wanted him to shut up and just suck me off, but the compliment felt really good, too. And when he did go back to sucking on my cock, I thought I’d lose it instantly. Fortunately, I managed to hold off a while longer and went down on him faster and more intensely so he’d catch up.

   A few seconds later, he pulled me out of his mouth to say:

   – Mate, I’m gonna blow my load in your mouth.

   – Do it! I ordered, keeping the talking to a minimum.

    ̶  Ugh…. Fuuuuuuuuck!

   Those same sounds. I thought maybe his orgasm was giving him a nice mix of pleasure and pain so I just went for it, making him explode in my mouth. That amazing feeling of giving him pleasure pushed me over the edge and I started spurting strands of man juice in his hot mouth, too.

   I heard a little bit of choking but he didn’t seem to mind. He swallowed every last drop of my seed and I kept sucking on his softening cock until I just rolled over to his side.

    ̶  That was fucking amazing, mate. I’ve never had my cock sucked off just after getting punched in the balls by my bike seat. It’s a great way to forget the pain.

    ̶  Isn’t it?

    ̶  Speaking of bikes, maybe we should get back to ‘em, huh?

    ̶  Maybe we should.

   When we did get back to our wheels, we kissed for a little while and… just as I was about to say “See you around, huh?” because I didn’t want to sound like this was more than what it was, he started peddling in the same direction I was going.

    ̶  Uh… weren’t you going the other way?

    ̶  I think I might need extra therapy. You know? With all these fucking potholes. Are you up for it?

   And the first thing I knew, this British fucker was putting his bike next to mine in the shed behind my apartment… and his hard cock inside my willing ass.

   I swear those bike paths are sex magnets. It’s crazy.

0