“Yes, yes, that’s what I fucking want. You know that’s why I followed you in here. I’ve… been waiting for you.”
“That so? My dick that good, huh?” Ryder questions.
“Fuck yeah!” the other voice whispers.
“Beg,” Ryder says, I can almost hear him smirk.
“What?” the other voice whispers out.
I can’t make out who it is. I just know it’s another man. I’m holding my breath, frozen by his words and the tone of his voice, it's so deep, so commanding, and so fucking sexy.
“Fucking beg. You want my dick so fucking bad, beg.” Ryder chuckles, and it’s a sound that goes straight to my dick. It’s not a nice chuckle, though. It's dark, twisted, and it calls to me. My palms are sweating, my breaths are quickening, and it feels like my heart will fly out of my chest at any minute.
“I want you. I want your fucking dick so bad. I want you to fuck my mouth so hard, and then I want you to bend me over and fuck me hard like you did last time, so fucking hard, so I can feel you for days. Fuck, I need you so bad. Please?” the other voice whines.
I’m panting now. My heart is pounding twice as fast. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be listening to this, but I can’t help myself. The way Ryder has this other man begging for him… I can’t walk away.
“Choke on it, you fucking track slut.” The other guy groans before I hear muffled noises, and I can picture Ryder sliding his dick in between his lips and choking him on his dick.
“That’s it, track slut, let me fuck that pretty little throat of yours. I want to fuck it raw. So, every time you try to talk, all you can think about is my dick pushing against your fucking tonsils.”
There's a humming, and I can picture him trying to nod, trying to swallow around his dick, and choking it down. My breath hitches.
There’s gagging and choking before I hear a pop. “Bend the fuck over, slut. Part those fucking cheeks… Now!” he barks. I’m assuming when the guy doesn’t move quick enough. “I said fucking part them.” I hear him spit before the other guy screams out. Ryder grunts. “Fuck, your slut arse is so fucking tight. Hold tight, motherfucker. You’re about to get what you wished for.”
There’s a noise that sounds like Ryder has slapped the guy’s arse, then a punishing rhythm of skin slapping on skin.
I turn and rush out of there. I’m overstimulated, flushed, and aroused. The cool air hits me when I step outside, and I jog back to the motorhome. Pushing in through the door, I slam it shut, resting my back against it and panting. Fuck, that was intense. He fucks like he rides… hard, fast, and by the sounds of it, he’s as talented at fucking as he is at riding.
I’m still panting and flustered when I hear his van door open and then slam shut. He’s stood at the back of the van, wet hair curling already at the ends, grey joggers that are slung low on his waist and a white vest top. He’s wearing white trainers. He shakes his hair, and it’s almost like a commercial in slow motion. His muscles flex and twist, his tattoos come alive as he moves, and he’s never looked so… delicious.
I wish it was me in there with him. Would he be like that with me? Forceful, dominating, aggressive, his dirty mouth did things to me, and I hope one day he will say things like that to me. I want to choke on his dick. I want him to make me, and I realise how fucked up that sounds, but I’ve never been as turned on as I am right now. I slide down the door, and my arse hits the floor. I still gasp for breath. The more I think about him, the more erratic my breathing becomes till I make my way into the bathroom and relieve myself. I’m not proud of it, but there’s no other way.
As we drive away at the end of the weekend, I feel like I’ve missed my window of opportunity to interact with him. There’s no racing next weekend as there’s a higher competition on with the team we’re both trying to get into. Normally, I don’t attend those things, but I’m wondering if he will be there to show his support and watch the professionals. Ismile as I think that maybe I should go, and maybe with not participating in the racing, he might even talk to me. When I get home, I start to feel excited. I start to plan outfits to take, pack, and repack. I want to look my best, and I want him to notice me. I catch a glimpse of myself as I walk past the mirror. I look different. I look lighter, happier. I have colour in my cheeks, my eyes seem brighter, my skin looks glowy, and I can’t help but feel nervous. What if he doesn’t want to be friends? What if he’s already made up his mind that I’m to be avoided? I start to panic a little. I take a breath. I can’t sit here all week guessing at what-ifs. I need to show him I’ve changed, or at least that I’m trying to change.
The week flies by, and as I head to the track, I start to feel nervous. What if he’s not there? What if he is, and he won’t talk to me?” My hands are sweating, and the driver pulls the motor home into the camping side of the car park and couples it up as I park up close by. I probably should learn to do this myself. We’re a little further away than normal as we’re not competing, but the driver goes to meet his lift back home. He will beback to collect the motorhome Sunday night unless I fuck everything up and need him to collect it sooner.
I watch outside to see if I can see him, but nothing, and I start to think he won’t show up until I see the van pull up. It’s right at the other end of the car park, but I know it’s his van. I sit and watch him through the window as he saunters across the car park. He turns and walks in the opposite direction, and I slip out behind him and follow him.
He enters the track and goes to talk to a few of the guys on the team. How does he do that? He’s so at ease, like he’s known them for years, and they share a few laughs before he moves on to the next group. One of their recruiters is there, and he walks towards Ryder with his arm outstretched, shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder. I know my position is almost guaranteed, but I also know it’s because my father has thrown around words like ‘financial contribution’, ‘sponsorship’ and ‘perks’, and I know he’s buying my place. But Ryder could actually make it on his own. It's then the nerves hit. What if they decide they can live without the money? Essentially living without me, and I get overlooked or I get pushed out. Normally, I would go on a rampage and throw my teddies around till I get what I want, but as I stand in the shadows and stare after Ryder, I can’t help but feel he deserves it more than me. He’s definitely more talented, and although he doesn’t have the financial backing, he is someone people would come to watch, not only because of how talented he is but because of how he looks. He’s literally everyone’s wet dream. He’s sexy and mysterious. He has that bad boy image that I apparently have a thing for. He has beautiful, pink plushlips that I want to kiss, and his eyes are dark, almost black looking, with the flecks of gold rimming them.
He’s the whole package to me, and women, and I can’t help the jealousy that rises in me, and that’s when I realise that’s not the only thing rising.
Just the thought of Ryder has my balls aching and pulling up into my stomach, and my dick is rock hard. I’ve never ever been with a man. I’ve never really wanted to. I’ve fucked women, girls, lots of them, but looking back, it’s been almost clinical. I rub the heel of my hand into my dick to get some relief, but it just aches.
I turn, needing to head back to the motor home to relieve myself, when I hear a gruff voice.Hisgruff voice. “What you doing here, Arch?”
It makes my dick pulse, and I clench my eyes shut in sheer panic as I try not to turn around, sporting my raging hard-on. I clasp my hands in front of it and slowly turn around.
“Ryder.”
I gasp, as he’s closer than I thought. I have to lean back to look up into his eyes. My mouth sags open before I catch myself. “Pardon?”
“You okay?” He frowns at me, and I nod. “Soooo?” He smirks.
“Soooo?” I repeat, and he chuckles.
“Arch, what you doing here? You never come to these things.”
