The bike track was full of people, good weather, people are so predictable, and it was a Sunday; joggers, dog walkers, women with prams, who never get out of the way. There were in-line skaters, it looked like a mother and daughter combo, grown out of pageants, in pink mohair jumpers.
I slipped along the bike track and got to Dynon Road in no time. That’s where I turn around and head home. Half an hour out, then half an hour back home again.
I followed three sexy jogging boys back from Dynon Road. Slim, dark-haired, 20 something, all three in tiny shorts. The path was busy with slow traffic, at the beginning of my ride home, so I hung behind the three joggers for a while. The backs of the legs of their tiny shorts flipped up showing their red, yellow and green jocks hugging their tiny little arse cheeks one after the other. Arse, arse, arse. Arse, arse, arse. Arse, arse, arse… if there had been sexy music, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
Green was the hottest, sexiest, as you’d expect. He had the shortest shorts, nose twitch. Yellow looked as though he could be indecisive, maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t, even if he seemed the happiest to be in between red and green. Red, looked like a tease, he looked the most intense, who’d probably not put out. He had the most muscular thighs.
Eventually green moved over and said, “I guess you’d like to go passed?”
I nearly said, No, I’m fine back here, thanks, but instead I simply said, “Thanks,” and rode passed.
I slid away, up the bike path towards home.
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