Rod leaned forward into the wind, grinding his crotch into his vibrating motorcycle, as he raced out of the parking lot.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," moaned Chad loudly.
"Fuck, you are alive. Now to see if you're really Chad!" Rod said as he revved his engine, and ground his swelling crotch further into the motorcycle seat.
Chad was vaguely aware of what Rod was saying, but the grinding sensation, and Rod's erection were consuming his primary focus. Oh, yes, he could taste Rod's leaking pre-cum. Sure he was all ready soaked in Rod's dried cum and sweat, but he needed more. It was his air, food and water now. He needed to be used. He needed to be worn. He was a jockstrap, and he was alive. He recalled how empty and worthless he felt lying naked and empty on the locker room bench. He had felt a thrill when Rod picked him up and put him on. He hadn't wanted to feel that way, he lied to himself about how it felt, but now filled with cock and vibrating violently, it was as good as it got. Somewhere along the road, Rod blew his load. Chad collapsed, as Rod's cock lost rigidity. Best workout ever, or was it sex? he thought curiously.
"Oh, man, you enjoyed that, you're going to be in heaven or in shreds by the time I am through with you. But first to make sure you really are Chad," Rod said loudly. Chad had trouble focusing on the words because Rod's cock was swelling again. Apparently, the idea of Chad being his jockstrap was making Rod horny. That weirdly made Chad happy, as he slurped the trickle of pre-cum was absorbed into him, and vibration grew more intense.
It finally stopped. The movement slowed, the engine stopped, and Rod got off the motorcycle. Chad's mind cleared a bit. He hadn't realized how hot it had gotten pressed between Rod's cock and balls and the racing motorcycle. The cool air blowing between Rod's legs seemed to clear Chad's mind. As he thought about it, Rod's sexual interest in using him until he was in shreds terrified Chad.
Rod chuckled as he sensed Chad's terror.
He walked up the driveway from the curb where he parked toward the big brick and wood siding colonial house. Chad could see nothing inside Rod's jeans. He could smell the stale sweat, and body odors, and he could taste Rod's nervous excitement. He wondered where Rod had gone. To the field house? He did his best to suppress that thought, he would learn soon enough.
He felt Rod's body climbing steps and then he heard a Westminster chime. Rod had rung a doorbell.
Chad and Rod tensed as the door opened.