Regent's Canal

This is my story and is also posted elsewhere.

*****

"Is that a fixie?"

I didn't immediately get that someone was talking to me. It was an unusual hot day in London; I had been cycling along Regent's Canal when the back tyre died on me. I had just dismounted and I was looking at the flat tyre, thinking of what to do, when this man spoke to me.

"Your bike. Is it a fixie? Fixed gear?"

I turned to look at him. He was in his late thirties, slightly taller than me and was wearing glasses with a clear frame.

"Oh. No, it's not. It is single gear but it actually has a free wheel."

"I see."

He paused. I wondered how on earth was he not sweating as much as I was: he was wearing an oversized jumper and a beanie hat, yet his skin looked dry. I turned to have another disheartened look at my flat tyre.

"Do you know if there's a bike shop nearby, by any chance? I need to get this fixed."

"Oh yeah, there's just one on the main street after the bridge. It's my local bike shop, they're really good there. I can show you."

I thanked him and started pushing the bike along the canal towards Vicky Park, alongside him. We made small talk -- he used to ride his bike everywhere, his name was Mark, he had lived in East London for a while. His accent was very much that of a Londoner, but he had a slight Jaimaican ring to it. Without asking him it was impossible to figure out whether he grew up in London and he picked up that accent from the other kids, or if he was originally from Jamaica. I didn't dare ask.

I started casting some sideway glances at him. He had high cheekbones and broad shoulders; he was moving in a very composed yet fluid manner. I often don't realise immediately after meeting someone how attractive they are. And was he intermittently brushing his arm against mine as we were walking or was I imagining it?

We passed the canal lock and I pointed at the weird flat on the other side of the canal. It was the basement flat of a bigger building right next to the canal; it had a terrace just on the canal with some plants and a kayak. The windows were floor to ceiling but you couldn't see through them.

"I always walk past that flat and it looks so good," I told Mark. "I always wonder what it looks like inside."

Mark chuckled and looked at me. "Well, do you want to find out?"

Turns out that he lived in that flat. What were the chances? He offered to go there so he could show it to me and then help me change my inner tube.

"But if you're in a rush there's no problem, we're not far from the bike shop anyway."

I couldn't turn the offer down. We got over the bridge and we got in the building. I was intrigued.

As he was helping me take my bike down the stairs to the basement floor, my forearm touched the seatpost and I suddenly pulled it away in pain -- the seatpost had turned hot because of the sunshine. Mark put the bike down on the landing and grabbed my arm to have a look at it. It wasn't burned, I felt a bit embarrassed about overreacting. He then slightly pulled my forearm towards his face, looked at me in the eyes, and gently blew on it.

"How does it feel?"

I got a few palpitations so I was glad that he didn't wait for an answer. He unlocked his front door and guided me into his flat.

It was very quiet and fresh. There was an open space with some low armchairs, a massive tropical plant, and a lot of sunlight was filtering through the big windows on the other side of the room. I moved towards the window as I heard him close the door and leave my bike at the entrance.

The view was gorgeous. The canal was just in front of the window, some geese were sunbathing in the water and you could see Londoners walking along the towpath and enjoying the day. It was odd looking at them from this side of this glass, after being so often on the other side.

"It's a one-way glass. We can see them, but they can't see us," Mark's voice said from behind me. "I like my privacy."

I turned around and my gaze was immediately attracted downwards: I was shocked to see that he had pushed his shorts and underwear to the floor. His toned thighs were glowing in the sunlight filtered through the window, and his penis looked soft and innocent.

"Is this okay?" he whispered.

"Yes."

I slowly went to grab his penis, in awe. It just felt right, as if my hand was just made to hold it and not let go.

Mark leaned in and kissed me. His big lips made me close my eyes and tremble. I felt his penis growing in my hand as he caressed my back with both arms and seamlessly got rid of my T shirt. My sweat had luckily dried off, and I felt his jumper brushing on my chest as he pulled my hand again towards his penis.

I leaned my back on the window as he broke the kiss and gave me a soft lick on the neck, which gave me an instant erection. He noticed that and smirked.

"Oh, someone liked that!" and he licked me again, but more slowly. I could feel he was also hard by now and what I really wanted was tasting him in my mouth. I made a move but he gently pushed me away.

"Not yet. First I want to do it to you."

He slipped down my trousers and lowered me on an armchair on my back. He took my glans into his mouth and closed his lips around it. I shivered and I widened my legs as he started working it up and down. I didn't know how this man was doing this, but he was seamlessly going from blowing me to kissing my balls, and without me realising, he was suddenly licking around my anus. Normally I would feel a bit self-conscious around being rimmed after a sweaty bike ride, but somehow Mark was putting me at total ease.

I had closed my eyes in pleasure. As I opened them, I saw his eyes fixed on mine, below my balls. You could see that he was really enjoying giving me pleasure. His tongue was going around in circles around my hole without really touching the hole itself -- he knew what he was doing.

He moved his hand over my tummy and my chest until he reached my lips, where he rested his index finger. Was that an invitation to stay quiet? I was going to whisper to ask if there was someone else in the flat, but as soon as I disclosed my lips, he gently slid two fingers in my mouth, whilst still rimming me. I immediately sucked on his fingers and relaxed.

Mark suddenly stood up and took his jumper off; he was then towering over me. He was completely smooth; his oversized jumper had been hiding a broad chest with visible lats. You could see from his slight belly that he hadn't been cycling recently -- but I found that his small fat roll was making him even sexier, with that hard cock below it.

"Let me show you something," he told me, as he pulled me up from the armchair and directed naked me back towards his window. He put my hands on the glass stood behind me. I could feel his cock press on my flank, as I again watched people come and go on the towpath. A woman jogged away.

"How do you feel," he whispered into my ear, "about those people over there, unaware of us?" He rubbed his large thumb on my lips.

"It's..." I replied, "I think it's a bit hot."

"I thought so," Mark said, and he dipped his thumb in my mouth. His cock was now brushing against my back. He took his thumb out and circled around my hole with it. I let a small moan out as he gently pushed his thumb in.

"And how would you feel," he continued, "about them not knowing that I'm about to fuck your arse?"

I gasped.

"If that's what you want," he added, as he stretched my hole with his thumb.

There was something about Mark's tone of voice that would've made me do anything he wanted. Or maybe it was simply the respect he was showing me. I could only nod yes.

He took his thumb out and I felt him putting some lube on. How did he get lube so fast, where did he keep it? I opened my legs and pushed my hands on the glass. A canal boat was lazily passing by as I felt Mark's dick gently pushing on my hole.

"At your own time," he muttered. He briefly caressed my chest from behind me but he landed his hands around my throat, giving it an almost imperceptible pressure. That was almost too much for me to handle. I could feel my hole relax and his cock head sliding into my butt.

"That was easy!" He seemed surprised. He gave me a few seconds to adjust and then he started going in deeper, and then out. I could feel him hitting all the right spots. I was ecstatic.

How exactly did I get there? One moment I was cycling along the canal, the next I was being fucked by this Jamaican god in his hipster flat. I spread my butt with my hands to take more of him in, as I watched a woman pushing a pram along the canal. I was such a slut.

He pushed my head against the window; my cheek was squished against the glass. I reached for my dick but he was quicker and started jacking me off at the same rhythm as he was fucking my arse. He was making me very close.

"Stop or I'm going to c--"

I came, spectacularly, all over the glass, as I felt my arse clench around his dick. He continued to fuck me as I was jizzing one jet after the other. He started moaning in my ear; he came out of me and then I felt a squirt of hot fluid hitting my back and then drippling down it. I was beyond myself, my mouth open against the glass.

He slowly stopped shaking and he hugged me from behind. I could feel his cum sticking between my back and his belly.

Then he stepped back and gave me a pretend spank.

"Time to fix your fixie."