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Going Down to Iowa

by Gulmaram

 

 

 

Summer. The hot sun beating down fiercely. Two friends were riding their bikes from Central Wisconsin down to Iowa. They were trying to average about a hundred miles per day. Their speed produced a wind that dried the sweat on their skin, but it didn't cool them.

 

They didn't speak much to each other. They were both quiet, introspective young men. The older one was Jeremiah. He was a Jewish boy, very intelligent and soft-spoken, yet with a rebellious sense of humour. He had long brown hair that he tied back in a ponytail, and large teeth that gave him an endearing smile, but made his bony face somewhat unphotogenic.

 

The younger one was Orian. He was also very intelligent. He was too intensely intellectual to have any sort of spirituality, and despite his state of harmony with nature, he professed himself an atheist and Social Darwinist. His long golden hair, bright blue eyes, and slender androgynous face made him look like an archetypal image of Jesus Christ. He wore a bandana to keep his wild curls out of the way while he was biking.

 

On days as hot as this one, rain is inevitable. The sun bakes the Earth, the water from streams and lakes evaporates at a significantly increased rate. Eventually, the water will have to come back down. Jeremiah and Orian decided they would try to bike as long after dusk as possible, but not long after the sun had set, the sky began to pour. Thunder rumbled deep in the thick clouds that quickly mushroomed overhead. The road became a river of mud. The two young men had no choice but to spend the night in a motel in the nearest town.

 

Fortunately, they only had to bike for fifteen minutes in the dangerous downpour before they found a wayside motel. Not wanting to waste money, they asked for a single room. The clerk told them there weren't any doubles available, anyway. The boys locked their bikes up securely, and retired to their tiny motel room.

 

Since they were soaked from the storm, they shed their wet garments and both took showers. In full masculine character, they left their wet jeans and t-shirts in a muddy puddle on the bathroom floor.

 

Jeremiah took the first shower, then made himself comfortable in the bed. It was a smallish bed, with cigarette burn holes in the bedspread, and no blanket, just a thin yellow sheet. But there were two pillows, and the mattress was quite soft.

 

Orian emerged from the bathroom, his wet tangled hair sticking to the sides of his face, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Seeing Jeremiah in the bed, he shrugged his shoulders. "I'll sleep on the floor," he said.

 

"You don't need to," Jeremiah offered. "There's enough room in the bed for both of us."

 

Orian shrugged again, and sat down on the edge of the bed. His towel fell down from around his hips. "I should probably put something on," he mumbled to himself. Jeremiah laughed. Then they both looked towards the window, realising that the curtains were open. "Or I could just stand naked in front of the window and scare the people that drive by," Orian laughed. He held onto his towel with one hand, got up, closed the curtains, and found a pair of underpants in his pack.

 

He left the towel in a wet heap on the floor. After he put on the underpants, he turned the light out and climbed into bed. Orian and Jeremiah sat in bed together, leaning against the headboard silently. Silence stretched on, then Jeremiah cleared his throat. Orian laughed.

 

"You know, after that invigorating shower, I'm not tired at all," Jeremiah said.

 

Orian laughed. "After all that biking?"

 

"Are you tired?" Jeremiah inquired.

 

"No," Orian admitted.

 

"They must have put some sort of drugs in the soap," Jeremiah reasoned.

 

"Communist drugs," Orian suggested. "Like your Communist anise seed toothpaste."

 

Jeremiah laughed and shook his head in the dark. Orian elbowed him, and they began half-heartedly wrestling with each other, tangling themselves up in the sheet and bedspread. Jeremiah succeeded in pinning Orian down on his back. Then Orian began tussling in friendly earnest, and eventually, after getting both of them hopelessly snarled up in the bedclothes, he finally forced Jeremiah down and straddled him. "Your toothpaste is Communist," Orian announced triumphantly.

 

"I never denied that," Jeremiah pointed out, struggling to throw Orian off. The bedspread was too much of an obstacle though. The headboard of the bed rattled against the wall. Suddenly a loud pounding came from the other side of the wall. "The people in the other room think we're having sex," Jeremiah told Orian.

 

"No, they think you're trying to rape me," Orian countered. They both laughed, and Jeremiah seized this moment to summon all his strength and throw Orian off. However, due to the tangled bedclothes, Jeremiah ended up on top of his friend instead of free of him. "I wasn't making a suggestion!" Orian exclaimed. Grinning, he tried to push Jeremiah off, but Jeremiah grabbed his shoulders and pinned him down.

 

"Submit!" Jeremiah ordered. "Admit defeat!" Orian shook his head, his blue eyes glittering. The headboard rattled against the wall, and the pounding from the other side resumed. A muffled voice shouted "Damn honeymooners!". Orian and Jeremiah dissolved into helpless laughter, tangled up in the bed together, laughing until they were breathless.

 

"That person must have no idea what sex sounds like," Orian reflected awhile later, after he had regained his composure.

 

"I pity his ignorance," Jeremiah decided thoughtfully. He was still on top of Orian. The tangled sheet didn't let him shift his position much.

 

"We could be an educating experience for him," Orian suggested. Jeremiah gazed down into his beautiful smiling face.

 

"But we're not really having sex," Jeremiah pointed out.

 

"We could change that," Orian laughed mischievously. Jeremiah stared down at him, for a moment confused, then his face broke into a grin. The boys kissed each other, their open mouths drinking each other in readily, their tongues exploring and their lips sucking. Relaxing, they wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders and settled into a close embrace.

 

Once they had relaxed, it was rather simple to extricate themselves from the tangled sheet and bedspread. They caressed each other's soft, smooth skin, pulling their bodies closer together into a very tight, intimate embrace. Orian splayed his fingers over Jeremiah's strong, firm back, his fingertips following the curve of Jeremiah's spine, down until his hands reached Jeremiah's hips. Then, arching his own hips up, Orian brought Jeremiah's down. The friction sent shudders through both of them, and Jeremiah ravished Orian's willing mouth again. They rocked their hips together, thrusting and grinding, heedless of the incessant rattling of the headboard that resulted, and hardly hearing more muffled shouts of "damn honeymooners".

 

After a few more succulent kisses, both young men were physically sore with their need for release. Desperate, gasping for breath as arousal flooded their bodies, they pulled each other's underpants down and slapped their bare flesh together. Their sweaty hands stroked and caressed each other's hard, throbbing organs. Then Orian turned over onto his stomach. Jeremiah settled back down on top of him, parting Orian's legs. He thrust his penis down between the cheeks of his friend's ass, wrapping his arms around Orian's waist, using one hand to guide Orian's hips up against his, and using his other hand to stroke Orian's turgid penis. Their bodies rocked together like before, and the gasped and groaned together, oblivious to what noise they were making.

 

Orian tensed as he felt Jeremiah enter him. There was a brief, sharp pain but Orian relaxed and arched up against Jeremiah, impaling himself deeper, obliterating his awareness of any pain. Jeremiah thrust deeper into him, stroking the tip of his penis against Orian's gland, his prostate, his ultimate pleasure centre. Orian's hips bucked wildly as his body hovered on the brink of orgasm. Then, finally, waves of ecstasy seized him. His whole body shuddered, and he moaned loudly, as his hot seed erupted over Jeremiah's hand. Jeremiah groaned, finding release as well, surrendering his body to Orian's rhythmic contractions.

 

Finally, exhausted, Jeremiah rolled off of Orian and pulled the thin sheet up over their sweat-soaked bodies. The storm was still raging outside, and was now directly overhead. The room lit up with the flash of lightning as a peal of thunder resounded. Jeremiah yawned, stretched, and curled up to go to sleep. Orian snuggled up to him, clasping one of Jeremiah's hands firmly between his own. Jeremiah stroked Orian's long golden hair with his other hand, until he fell asleep.

 

They awoke midmorning to find that the rain had ceased. The sun was drying up the wet roads. Jeremiah and Orian got dressed and checked out of the motel without saying much to each other. They got back on their bikes and continued their journey, the hot sun beating down on them, cooled only by the breeze from their own momentum. They had lost a good number of hours from getting up late, but if they were lucky they could make up their lost time over the next two days.

 

Their adventure was the road they biked on. Everything else was sideline entertainment. But when they did happen to be killing time on the sidelines, they both really knew how to have fun.