Joggers In The Park

You've got to love all the joggers in the park, watch them run by in their little shorts. I admit I am a bit of a perve (said in the best possible taste), the glimpse at their undie elastic is a thrill, I know it probably shouldn't be, but we’re only human, what can we say. Watch all those muscles work, up the back of his legs to...

Thup, thup thup sound their feet on the path…

To all those hot arsed boys, with legs right up to their hips… nose twitch. Sweat drips. Watch them just for the thrill, no strings attached, it’s cool. They fly by like gazelles, with ease so rarely seen.

Watch them go, imagining which spots are damp, sweet, scent of man, lick your lips.

See them running to you, watch their manhood bounce in their shorts, so many sorts, good for a view.

Muscular calves, hairy legs, thick thighs, beefy butts, narrow waits, torsos so full of grace.

Appreciation, not demonised by all those people who have agendas, when they see your eyes dropping below the waist. Nervous smile.

Active wear gives you a view, all those muscles working together and isn’t it better that we can see the legs of a thorough bred on full working display.

I remember back at all those dance parties way back when, straight or gay, it didn't seem to matter if they wanted to play. Curious, I guess is what you call it, boys are curious it is true. And dicks are their favourite thing, usually their own, but it is not such a stretch to appreciate a buddy just like that.

I watch the joggers run in the park, and I can’t help but wonder who loves them after dark.

I did my laps today. That’s every day for me this week. I’m back on track. Good for me.