Parallel Bars

[Happy Boy]

Parallel Bars
by CRaZy

The crowd held its collective breath in awe. Sinews stretched and swayed across the bars in a seamless waltz. A series of flawlessly executed twists and tucks sustained the hush in the stadium. Only vague specks of sweat on the gymnast's forehead hinted at the effort involved in attaining such virtuosity. He continued to glide unabated, hands and bars as one entity, the lean definition of his body tantalisingly revealed by his tight costume.

Glynn admonished himself as his thoughts concentrated on Jura Issak's crotch rather than his skill. He kept his eyes on this ultimate specimen of manhood long after the crowd had finished cheering for his perfect score. The Russian had bowed briefly with the same expression of serious contemplation that had accompanied his performance. Glynn could only imagine those honed, powerful muscles crushing against his own slight frame. Absentmindedly, he wondered what it would take to make him smile.

He looked at his program. It would be two days before the next section of the men's competition took place. He would have to buy a ticket and change his shifts at work. At thirty years of age, Glynn had never felt such infatuation. Even his Adonis-like Science professor at college had not elicited such a swelling of desire. He smiled wryly at his stupidity. It was like a weed wanting to be recognised by a tall oak.

Glynn's work at the laboratory was fulfilling but tedious. Week after week, he stared into test tubes and analysed cells in the pursuit of a cure for leukaemia. He liked the prestige. This was pioneering work which had been reported in all the serious medical journals. His name was well respected in the field of scientific research. It was not at all glamorous or well paid though. Lab rats and vials of goat urine hardly made for erotic late night trysts. Most nights, however, he could lose himself in the routines, the recording of data. Not tonight. He was horny as hell and Jura's face kept staring back at him through the microscope.

In frustration, Glynn found himself searching wildly through an abandoned bundle of newspapers for an article he had read earlier in the week. He found it at last, the photograph of Jura flying across space failing to capture the textures and agility of his body. Glynn released his complaining cock from his jeans and immediately began to stroke it roughly, not allowing himself the luxury of lubrication. The skin on his shaft chafed against his hands and he welcomed the dry agony as he stared rigidly at the photograph. Despite his maltreatment, he could feel the jism in his balls preparing to explode quickly. He stopped his cruel stroking and cupped one hand over his uncut helmet, vigorously polishing the precum into its surface. He came hard, leaning forward and groaning like a stricken animal. It had provided some physical relief but still failed to assuage the desperate thoughts in his head.

At midnight, Glynn recorded his card on the time clock and locked up the lab. He usually collected pizza on the way home and watched some late night football, often falling asleep on the couch. He preferred living alone. Being neither tidy nor a good cook, he had little to offer as a flatmate or live-in lover. His life was far less complex this way. Tonight however, he couldn't bear to face the silence of his tiny house.

Glynn found himself driving past the indoor stadium, miles from his normal route home. The sound of his car engine reverberated off the metal walls as he pulled in close. There were lights on inside. Security lights he imagined. The huge entrance doors were shut, yet, when he pushed down on the handle it yielded to his touch. Not normally adventurous, Glynn's heart pounded as he imagined a gun wielding security guard racing towards him at any moment. He paused. Not a sound. Intrepidly he stepped inside, locking the door firmly behind him.

The light was coming from the centre circle, Glynn realised. Devoid of the crowded atmosphere, the stadium loomed grimy and unspectacular. As he came closer to the middle, however, he felt his pulse stop. His body froze mid-step. Oblivious to the intruder, Jura continued to swing on the parallel bars. Away from the rigid requirements of competition, his movements were relaxed and freeform whilst remaining exact in their execution. Also unlike his competition performance, Jura was totally naked.

Glynn gaped in wonder as Jura's large, heavy balls and long shaft performed a ballet of their own in complete synchronicity with the rest of his body. His organ hung deliciously as he swung across the bars, swaying in giddy accompaniment when he somersaulted through the air. At last he ended the routine, dropping casually from the apparatus onto the floor. His carefully crafted body was art in motion as he strode towards a bench to collect his towel and water bottle. Glynn approached slowly, for the first time in his life excited enough to act foolishly. His cock was raging inside his jeans, its chafed exterior suffering further as it hardened against the coarse material.

Jura looked up with a measured, emotionless expression as Glynn approached. However, he beckoned him to come forward with the slightest tilt of his head. When he was about five metres from the object of his lust, Glynn stopped. With leisurely precision, Jura sat on the bench, casually spreading his legs of iron. Glynn admired the trimmed, wiry curls that perfectly framed the growing masterpiece. With elongated fingers, Jura teased himself to arousal with light, drumming movements along his nine fabulous inches of cock. Glynn's eyes blinked in wonder as he watched its girth expand, surely too large for an ordinary man to circle with one hand. His ass muscles clenched as he envisioned it reaming him to the hilt, stretching and sparking every elusive nerve in his canal, till his prostate was aflame.

When his penis had proudly reached its zenith, Jura urged his body forward, bending at the waist, inch by inch, until the glistening point of his tongue saluted the cut, pearly-pink tip of his own cock in an act as old as Ra. Never had Glynn dreamt that he would witness such a feat of self pleasure. He loosened his jeans, frantically needing to quell the rushing, pounding sensation in his much less impressive organ.

Jura's round, full-lipped mouth covered the glans now as his tongue swirled into the groove which held the delicious pre-cum. Glynn licked his own lips, helplessly wishing that he could taste the secretions for himself. He was at once feverish beyond all imaginings and frustrated beyond all hope. This god had no use for him, a mere mortal with a puny body and simple life. He was untouchable, even able to sate his basest of needs alone.

Jura's mouth was moving rhythmically up and down the length now. Beads of saliva glistened on his lips as he repeatedly lifted his head until the tip was almost visible, his mouth stretching to its maximum width as he swallowed the smooth pole with deliberate languor. Slight shudderings in Jura's leg muscles and toes curled tightly inwards were the only visible signs of pleasure. Glynn stripped his clothes along with his pride. He wanted to bring himself to a swift, fruitless climax but it seemed that the ritual before him would be tainted by doing so. Suddenly, when almost at the apex it seemed, Jura stopped. He sprang forward from the bench and came to stand directly in front of Glynn.

Never one for seduction, Glynn's instincts, for once, seemed to be knife-edge sharp. He took each of Jura's calloused hands and licked them slowly, worshipping hungrily at the lemon tang taste of cock. He could smell Jura's arousal now. Acrid. Unapologetially pungent. His hands sought out and caressed Jura's meaty balls, weighing their heaviness admiringly. His tongue explored the salt-sweet sweat on Jura's hairless chest, agitating against the stiffened, firm nipples. Jura's body quivered almost imperceptibly with each touch.

Glynn hesitated. He knew that he could not fulfil Jura with his mouth. A little sadly, he moved over to a practice mat and offered himself submissively. He crouched on his knees, spreading them wide apart, placing his ass high in the air for Jura's taking. A man like Jura would surely violate him fast, deriving pleasure from the convulsions in his tight, resisting asshole without demur. He could only hope that at some point, his own body would be swept along for the ride.

Glynn felt strong arms lifting him effortlessly into the air. Jura held him aloft and began to spin in wild, dizzying circles across the floor, stopping only when Glynn began to cry with laughter and giddy confusion. Glynn had felt vulnerable, yet protected, his body trusting the reassuring strength of his tormentor. His head remained clouded long after Jura placed him face up on the mat and patiently lay by his side. Jura's English came out awkwardly and slowly, but his words were clear and seductive.

"Your brown skin is beautiful," he began. "I am jealous that you can lie in the sun. I want your tanned skin to touch every part of mine. Tonight, let us be equal as lovers."

When he had finished speaking, Jura straddled Glynn, carefully supporting his weight on his elbows. His dewy lips sought Glynn's face, reigning down possessively on his eyelids, his cheeks and finally his mouth. Glynn revelled in the baby smoothness of Jura's face against his own. It was a marked contrast from the hairy, stubble-ridden lovers whose amorous efforts left painful cuts in his delicate skin.

Tongues feuding furiously in poker-hot mouths. Cock pulsing against cock in a single heartbeat rhythm. Nails tearing taut, rendered flesh. Thankful sighs. Demanding grunts.

The crowd held its collective breath in awe. The final for the parallel bars apparatus. Jura was in the middle of a complex triple twist section of the routine. One other competitor had a 9.99. He needed to repeat his previous performance. The energy in the stadium was singularly directed towards ensuring that Jura made no error.

Glynn could only see Jura naked above him, his massive tool pushing against his face, commanding deliverance. They had mirrored each other's movements, alternating their sucking and kneading till they both moaned for relief. Glynn had revelled in bliss as his tongue and fingers explored Jura's begging asshole, his rock-hard pelvis and all the spaces in between. They had climbed the pinnacle simultaneously till finally, Jura's steamy gift spurted down Glynn's neck in a series of severe thrusts that left his jaw muscles aching with strain. Without ceremony, Glynn had also ground his cock harshly into Jura's throat, the power of his release transporting him into golden blackness. Afterwards, they had lain together unhurriedly, the fury of desire dissolved. Butterfly kisses. Tasting themselves. Tasting each other.

The crowd was on its feet now, roaring with acclamation. Glynn stood up too, feeling strong and proud in his sun-kissed skin. His eyes finally focussed on the score. He hadn't doubted the outcome for a moment. Down below, he saw Jura on the podium, his face ever serious. Then Jura looked up, scanning the crowd till it seemed his eyes rested on Glynn. Had Jura sighted him? Glynn could never really know. Yet, as he held the trophy high, the faintest flicker of a smile rested at the corners of his mouth.