Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places or events is unintentional and unlikely.

Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey (part one)

Cold, wet and miserable was how Joe would describe the weather and his mood.

Both had started bright and pleasant and slowly darkened. As an avid runner, Joe would have gone for a jog even if the weather had been filthy when he started, but he would have dressed more appropriately. Joe had a selection of clothes he ran in from running tights and long-sleeved base layers to shorts and t-shirts.

As it was, Joe now found himself splashing through puddles and being soaked to the skin as a month of rainfall descended in the space of an hour. The worst thing was, once he was three or four miles from home, he still had the three or four miles to go back again.

"Fuck off," Joe told the sky.

A dog walker sensibly dressed in long trousers and a heavy, hooded jacket heard Joe talking to himself and gave him a funny look. Was the funny look because of Joe talking to the sky? Or because his t-shirt was adhered to him and his nipples and smooth skin were showing through the fabric? His shorts, high cut to show off most of his thighs, were white and sopping too. He wore white briefs underneath and Joe thanked the god he didn't believe in that he was wearing underwear. It was a strange thing because the white briefs were visible through the white shorts but thankfully the contents of his underpants were still more or less hidden.

When Joe first took up running, over a dozen years ago now when he was twenty-one, he remembered seeing a man in his fifties running in the rain. His shorts were soaking and Joe had seen the shape and colour of naked penile flesh. The man had been circumcised; Joe remembered that too – that was how easily one could see through his wet white shorts now.

Would he become someone else's memory?

Joe was actually a little self-conscious about his body. He needn't be, but that's not how body consciousness works. Joe was "only" 1.72m tall but thin – some might have called him skinny. He didn't have much hair on his chest and his pits were very average. His arms were weedy but he had strong legs.

His thighs had dusting of black hair on the inner aspect close to his groin but the rest of his thighs were sparsely decorated with short dark and blonde sprigs of hair. His calves and shins were wispy at best but the rain dragged the hairs down so they were like wet dog hair. His legs were not totally smooth but his smooth and creamy skin showed through beneath the scant hairs.

Joe knew that most people were not as insecure about their legs as he was, which was why he wore shorts even though he was inclined to say he hated them. No-one is looking at your legs, dummy – this is what Joe told himself. His legs were partially covered by his socks anyway.

Anyway, the bright and pleasant day had turned dark and a light shower had become torrential before graduating to biblical. When Joe turned back, following a canal path popular with cyclist and runners, dog walkers and minor drug dealers, he splashed though puddles and lagoons that hadn't been there on the outbound journey. He'd be as well jumping in the canal and swimming home except it flowed in the opposite direction and he was not a strong swimmer. He could sink like a stone though, if that impresses you.

Tiring of splashing though the puddles from the poor drainage along the path, Joe exited at the nearest waypoint (a car park and wharf used by fishermen) and sprinted on the roadside path towards the main road ahead. There was a bus stop where Joe was loathed to stop – not that the bus stop wasn't nice or anything, he just didn't like stopping once he got going.

Joe stopped anyway, ducking under the shelter of the bus stop and sweeping a wet hand through his wet hair. It was a largely counterproductive gesture but he did squeeze some of the rain from his head.

The roads too were being overwhelmed – 45 minutes of rain and they resembled a river, or a fjord or an inlet. You get the idea. He didn't have any money for a bus and the next one wasn't for half an hour anyway but Joe took some respite from the downpour while he thought about the miserable journey ahead.

The roads were getting busier as commuters started their journeys home – it was after sunset (not saying a lot since it was January and the average day only had about an hour of daylight) and getting gloomy but not quite dark. More cars were passing on the road and seemingly fewer busses – cutbacks probably.

Joe gasped and sputtered as a car drove through the gutter, sending a plume of water all over him and hitting the back of the bus shelter with a thwack. Joe furiously seethed and was contemplating resuming his miserable journey as another car approached. He was expecting another splash but it slowed down instead.

Joe was grateful for the caution of the driver and the common sense to slow down in adverse weather but was set uneasy when the car not only slowed down but stopped. There were three lads inside – Joe wasn't sure how old exactly though they were surely at least seventeen since they were driving. In his late-thirties now, Joe found himself considering anyone under the age of twenty-five to be a boy.

"You alright?" asked the boy in the back seat.

Was he ok? Joe had been complaining incessantly about the misery of being soaked!

"I'm fine," Joe replied.

Huh?

"You want to tell me your name?" the boy asked.

"Joe Jenkins," Joe replied.

"You look cold and wet. Can we give you a lift, Joe?" the same lad asked.

Joe was disinclined to get into a car with three strangers. Even if they were three harmless-looking strangers.

"Yes please," Joe responded.

What? Why would he do that?

"Cool!" said the driver while the front passenger grinned happily.

Joe watched the charismatic boy and wondered if he was so easily charmed by a pretty face. Joe wasn't into boys – he wasn't even gay. But if he were gay and if he was 10- or 15-years younger he'd probably have been flirting right about now.

The boy who had extended the invitation had short blonde hair that highlighted his dark brown eyes. His eyes were big and round, his face a sweet pumpkin shaped and his smile was enough to make a guy melt. Except Joe was straight. The backseat boy was the slimmest of the three in the car but Joe got the impression he was the leader.

"I'm Luke," said the charismatic boy. "This is Walt and Henry."

"Well, you can't sit in my car in wet clothes," the driver said reasonably. "Here, put your clothes in this."

The driver tossed a bag onto the pavement in front of Joe.

"No way," Joe laughed.

Nice try but fuck that!

"You still want a lift, right?" asked Luke.

"Yes," Joe replied.

What was he saying fucking yes for?

"Well, you wouldn't want to make a mess of Henry's car, would you?" Luke asked rhetorically.

Luke seemed inclined to talk with rhetorical questions.

"I... I guess not," Joe was compelled to concede.

"Great! Well, we can just drive off and leave you if you want, Joe," Luke stated. Then he added rhetorically, "Or do you want to take off those wet and dirty clothes like we asked?"

"I'll... I'll take my clothes off like you asked," Joe agreed.

Why? Why would he agree to such an unacceptable condition?

The idea of taking his clothes off in front of these boys was enough to make his guts turn squishy. He was outside and caught under the gaze of boys half his age, was he really going to do this? Joe pulled at his t-shirt which made a sucking noise as he pulled it from his chest. Joe lifted the sopping, saturated fabric from the bottom and pulled it up.

Joe felt chilled as he peeled off the cold and wet t-shirt – first revealing his flat stomach and the V line that dropped into his shorts. His treasure trail was matted to his skin too. As the t-shirt rose higher, his chest came into view. Joe wasn't muscular enough to have pecs per se but he was thin enough to avoid "tits" and the flatness of his chest gave him a lean but sinewy appearance.

Joe's nipples were cold, contracted, pert and pink with a few sprigs of hair around them and peppering towards the centre of his chest where a disperse nest of wiry hair was lain. Joe felt his shoulder muscles tense from the cold as he finished peeling the t-shirt off and dangled then dropped it into the proffered bag with a heavy smack.

There were a few honks from passing cars but it was hard to tell if it was appreciation or condemnation for Joe. Of course, maybe it was the boy's car which was stopped at the bus stop and partially obstructing the flow of traffic.

Joe's hands were trembling, but so was the rest of him, as they reached for the waistband of his shorts. His eyes lifted to the expectant faces of the boys and Joe still could not quite figure out what he was doing or why. He pushed the shorts down to his mid-thigh, revealing the white briefs. The briefs were sodden with rainwater too and Joe became aware of the soundtrack of rain on the roof of the shelter which was keeping him from getting wetter but did little to dry him.

Joe pushed the shorts past his knees and down his legs. Once they reached his slim claves, the water-soaked fabric fell to his ankles. The white shorts made contact with the watery, dirty and foot-trodden pavement – they already needed to be washed but Joe didn't like the messiness. Joe inelegantly untangled his feet from the shorts, one foot at a time, until they were left sitting on the ground. Joe bent down and picked them up, flopping them into the bag beside the t-shirt.

This time Joe was more confident that the passing cars were honking for him. The headlights seemed to illuminate him more so than the bus shelter was already doing. Joe felt very much like he was in the spotlight of a stage. It didn't matter than the afternoon was getting darker as twilight set in – he was under the lights of the lamps and beams.

Through the wet white shorts, the wet white briefs had hidden their contents but the removal of the shorts meant the outline of his penis was clearly visible. So too were Joe's pubes. It was embarrassing to stand at the roadside almost naked while the traffic flowed past and the three boys watched him undress.

"Do you want to take your trainers and socks off too, Joe? You don't want to drag mud into the car, do you?" Luke suggested.

"No, I... No..." Joe replied.

Did this make sense? Did any of this make sense?

Joe used his toes to pull the heels of each trainer free with a squelching nose that rivalled the removal of the t-shirt and then slipped his feet out them. Standing on the hard pavement in just his socks and underpants was a strange feeling. The socks were absolutely sodden so Joe bent down to pull them down, revealing the lower half of his claves and then his bare feet.

Running along the canal path had kicked up mud onto the socks so his legs were clean except for a few spatters near his knees and even fewer on his thighs. His bare feet were cold on the watery pavement; Joe could feel the grit of mud and debris under his bare feet. Joe added the trainers to the bag and then the socks.

"Well? Do don't really want to leave those wet underpants on. Not now that you've taken everything else off, do you?" Luke asked with a rhetorical inflection again.

"No," Joe agreed.

Except Joe was humiliated just standing barefoot in his undies. Joe wouldn't stand around like this in a locker room never mind in the street. In the rain. What was he thinking?

Joe shuddered as his hands went to his underpants. He wasn't really going to do this, was he? Was he going to take his briefs off at the side of a busy road, at a fucking bus stop? Joe pushed the briefs down but cupped his genitals as he freed them one hip at a time, then one knee at a time and then one foot at a time. His bare bum clenched as he stepped out of the briefs and tossed them into the bag at his feet.

Now fully nude, Joe's eyes looked at every car that passed – every single one could see him totally naked beside the road. Joe's eyes returned to the faces of the three boys in the car but Luke drew his attention more than anyone else. Unsettlingly, none of them spoke. There was nothing but the sound of traffic and rain on the roof above him. The boys seemed to enjoy extending the moment without saying a word.

"You want to give me that bag, Joe?" Luke finally said.

Joe picked up the bag, ashamedly cupping his penis and testicles in just one hand. The sporadic hair around his groin clung wetly to the inside of his thighs and the bush atop the root of his penis was obscenely exposed by the one-handed grip. His balls had pulled up inside a tight scrotum because of the cold and damp and his dick was a short few inches in length – that was what mortified Joe even more. His penis was shrivelled – if he was going to expose himself, it could at least look good.

Despite all these thoughts and feelings, Joe passed the bag with all his clothes into the car where Luke accepted them with barely contained glee. Joe had stepped out from under the shelter to hand over all his clothes to the three strangers and now his bare skin was getting slick from the ongoing torrent.

"Thanks Joe," Luke replied. "We just need to turn the car around. You'll to wait here for us?" Luke asked rhetorically.

"Sure," Joe replied.

I mean, where else was he going to go?

"You'll be ok, ok? Don't move, alright?" Luke suggested.

It was only as the car sped off that Joe started to contemplate what had happened. He had stripped bare naked and barefoot and was now just standing by the side of the busy commuter route through town. More worryingly, he was still standing in the rain rather than under the shelter and he was still covering his genitals with just one hand. Joe couldn't even move his other hand to help cover up his dignity. Or indignity as the case may be.

Joe's clothes were gone. The boys were gone. Joe was far from home, but not far enough that he might not be recognised, and he was completely naked. As Joe contemplated this, he realised that he ran through this town most days. A lot of people recognised him well enough to say hello and colleagues, friends and neighbours knew him better than that – literally anyone could be in those cars and seeing him exposed like this. Even if no-one he knew saw him, a lot of strangers would see him. A lot of strangers had already seen him!

They were going to think he was some kind of pervert!

Cars passed and honked or flashed lights at him. Some drove through the gutter, splashing him with water. Joe didn't think it was possible to get wetter but then more rain fell on his head and more water splashed on his legs and feet. Particularly obnoxious drivers were going fast enough to spray cold water as high as Joe's chest.

Still, Joe didn't go anywhere. Still, he didn't move.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Joe asked himself.

He had willingly handed over all his clothes to three teenage boys he didn't even know!? Joe wanted to run but he still couldn't move and he didn't know why – hypothermia? Fear? Panic? Cars flashed and honked and some people rolled down their windows to shout something unintelligible. Some just laughed, giggled or sneered.

Would the three lads come back or would they really just leave him here? On reflection it had been so obvious what they would do and yet he had gone along with it. What would kill him first – hypothermia or embarrassment?

When Joe thought about it, he realised it wasn't that he didn't go anywhere... he couldn't go anywhere. He couldn't move? Why not?

It was impossible to tell how long had passed before a car finally slowed down. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was not the clothes stealing boys but a group of rowdy guys in their twenties. They cackled hysterically at Joe, pointing and making lewd noises that weren't even words. They drove off calling him a "freak" and pissing themselves laughing.

The next car to slow down had a young man in a suit, well shirtsleeves and a tie, who seemed to move in slow motion as he lifted his phone and snapped a picture.

"No, don't!" Joe said.

The young man merely moved his gaze from Joe to his phone and Joe could tell from the notification sound that escaped the car that he had just uploaded it somewhere. At least his penis was covered but it was still humiliating to know a naked picture of him was probably online now – his public setting adding to his shame. The car moved away and Joe drummed his cold toes on the pavement as he desperately wanted to run but couldn't.

"Oh my god, dude," said the driver of the next car.

He had two teenagers in the back seat who grinned as they pointed phones at him.

"You're disgusting," the driver added.

Joe heard the words "Facebook," "Instagram," and "Tok-tok," from the teens as the car moved away.

No-one seemed concerned, that was the sad thing. Everyone thought it was hilarious or filthy but no-one offered to help or asked if he was ok.

"What the fuck are you doing?" asked the driver of a bus.

Joe looked onto the bus which was mostly empty. No-one was getting off at that stop but the driver still peered out at him with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion.

"I'm waiting for someone," Joe said stupidly.

"Naked?" the bus driver said.

"Yes," Joe replied.

Well, not totally naked – his privates were covered with one hand.

"Are you ok?" the bus driver asked.

"Yes, thank you," Joe replied.

Joe didn't know why he said this. How could he be ok? (Because Luke told him to be).

He was cold and wet and all alone but he was somehow ok. The bus moved away and Joe followed it with his eyes. It was moving in the same direction the boys had gone. How long ago was that now? Joe looked in the other direction, the queue of traffic stretching on forever. If he started running that way now, he could get home in twenty minutes.

Joe didn't move. Besides, he was barefoot so it would take a lot longer than twenty minutes and the quickest route took him through the town centre. If he went back onto the darkened canal path, it would take longer but he'd be less likely to meet anyone – until he got to his usual exit and then it was fifteen minutes through residential streets that he frequented every day. People he knew would see him!

There was no way out of this!

Almost without realising it, Joe became aware of a car across the road, parked in the bus stop going in the opposite direction. The passenger door opened and Joe saw Luke. The little bastards had come back for him. How long had they been there, watching his embarrassment?

Luke waited for a gap in the traffic before jogging across the road and then sauntered casually towards Joe. Luke smiled at him and looked him up and down. Luke's eyes were so pretty, his eyelashes were long and fluttered at him as looked.

"You can step back under the shelter now. Would you like that?" Luke said.

Joe was relieved to be released and stepped back under the shelter though he remained fully exposed to the road. Released... was that the right word? Released... from what?

"You want to put both your hands at your side now?" Luke said.

Joe didn't but he did.

"Yes," Joe answered.

Joe let go of his genitals, exposing himself completely to the teenager and the drivers passing by. His penis was a short and flaccid two inches and a half inches (half an inch was just pinched foreskin covering the glans), his ball sac tight and his pubes matted with rain. It was bad enough when he was naked at the roadside and covering himself, but now he was flashing his most intimate parts. Why was he doing this?

"You're cute, Joe," Luke complimented.

"Th-thanks," Joe shuddered.

His damp skin was shiny under the lights but he still blushed from the compliment. As a straight guy, he wasn't used to compliments from men or boys.

A car slowed down and then stopped with four guys a few years younger than Joe inside. They laughed at him and then took pictures and then looked at Luke who offered a pleasant smile.

"This your dad?" one of the guys asked.

Oh my god, they thought Luke was his son!?

"Yes. You're my daddy, aren't you?" Luke laughed.

That rhetorical inflection again! Joe was becoming aware of it now.

"Yes. Luke is my son," Joe replied.

"You like being naked in front of your son?" asked someone who's tone was either appreciatively scandalised or disapproving.

"Pervert!"

"Freak!"

"Gayyy!"

Joe shuddered at the thought of people thinking he was some kind of disgusting pervert. He wasn't even gay! Of course, he didn't like being naked in front of a boy who wasn't his son.

"Joe loves being naked. He was just out for a run, weren't you?" Luke asked.

"Yes," Joe answered.

"You're not running now," the driver replied and before Joe could reply, the young man drove off.

"How are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this to me?" Joe asked.

"Voodoo," Luke replied – jokingly or serious? "And I'm doing this to you because... I'm not a very good person?"

This time it was an introspective question rather than rhetorical.

"I like seeing naked guys. Especially straights. You lot are so much fun. Don't you want to put your hands on your head now?" Luke asked.

Joe found his arms moving, his hands resting on top of his head and exposing himself more than ever. His penis and arse had been on show for a while but the exposure of his armpits still added to the humiliation.

More cars, more shouts and laughs and horns. Was this ever going to end?

"Imagine if you got hard now," Luke said suddenly.

"No. Please don't!" Joe said.

"You'd like to get hard now, wouldn't you?" Luke intoned wickedly.

Joe felt his dick stirring. This was humiliating. How could it be more embarrassing to be hard than to flash passers-by with a two-and-a-half-inch willy?

"Oh no... oh no..." Joe said.

His penis firmed and thickened, lengthened and hardened and then got hot. Luke had to admit, he had not been expecting such an incredible transformation. Joe's cock tripled in size – expanding to a fully erect seven and a half inches. It was a minor quibble to say it was "only" 7.3 inches but as the foreskin pulled back, wrapping midway around the head of his cock, it looked massive.

"That's disgusting!"

Incoherent shouting.

"Perv!"

Giggles.

Another car stopped and inside were a group of boys in school uniform.

"Oh no," Joe whined.

"What the shit is this?" asked the young driver.

"Please don't take pictures," Joe pleaded.

"It's not just pics. Video too," one of them laughed.

His friends were busy taking photos and video of the naked runner and laughing, pointing and mocking Joe while Luke stood by and watched. They eventually got bored and moved on – they had pics already and pictures lasted longer.

"I could make you cum, you know?" Luke said.

Joe felt tension and tingling in his cock and balls. It was as if his brain could not decide if he had been told to cum or not.

"Please don't," Joe pleaded. "I want to go home."

"Ok," Luke said surprisingly. "Town is that way. Start walking?"

To Joe's absolute horror he started walking towards town but his pits were still exposed, his cock was still hard and he was still barefoot. He was walking towards the stream of traffic now, his erection horizontal and bouncing slightly as he walked. Moving was even more humiliating and in a moment he would be at the intersection between roads – he'd need to stop and wait for a gap in the traffic before he could cross. That would mean more humiliation, more posing, more drivers and passengers seeing him naked.

Worse still, his hard-on was aching and his balls felt like they were churning. It felt like he had been edging for hours but he couldn't cum. Joe wasn't masturbating but the suggestion that Luke could make him cum was like an earworm that tormented his sexuality.

"Or maybe we should go this way?" Luke said casually.

The teenager had sauntered up beside him, very much enjoying the sight of Joe's arse as he came up behind. Joe had a really cute little man ass. Luke had nodded towards the road Joe had run up... however long ago that had been... to find shelter. The rain had eased off to a spritzing shower, a mist that made Joe's skin sheen.

"Ok," Joe agreed.

Not that he had a choice exactly. Luke had again asked a question that was not designed to be asked so Joe obeyed and went the way Luke suggested. At least it didn't follow the main road.

"Can I please put my arms down?" Joe pleaded.

It was bad enough he was barefoot and it was still raining (though it had eased off), he was still outside and cars coming up the road were slowing down and looking at him and laughing at him. All that was bad enough but his arms were getting sore.

"Ok. You can put your arms down if you want?" Luke agreed. "But you don't want to cover up, do you?"

"Is this really voodoo?" Joe asked as he dropped his arms to his side.

"Kind of," Luke said ambiguously. "I can make you do things by asking rhetorical questions."

"How? Why?" Joe asked.

"Don't know. Because I like it," Luke replied.

"It's humiliating," Joe confessed.

"That's why I Iike it. I love controlling men," Luke admitted.

"I'm not even gay," Joe protested ineffectively.

"I like that even more," Luke confessed.

They were near the canal path now and without instruction, Joe followed Luke down a gentle slope that led from the road and pavement to a small tarmacked area. The area was a popular place to park and for recreational fishermen to set up.

Though it was hardly much of a wharf, it was so called: Dorn Wharf. Runners ran through it, walkers walked through it, dog walkers chased pups through it; it was lit by a series of floodlights and surrounded ominously by paths that stretched in roughly eastly and westerly directions between towns through which the canal travelled.

Joe hadn't really noticed that as he walked with Luke, cars had been pulling into the area. More cars than could strictly speaking be accommodated had now filled the space. Joe could see a small crowd of people moving around – presumably waiting for Luke and Joe. Joe was the only one who was naked as he approached the crowed that numbered over two dozen. Clothed male, naked male was not a genre Joe was familiar with but there was another thing Joe didn't know.

While the site was known for running, walking and fishing, Joe didn't know was the spot was also known for dogging.

To be continued...

This story is based on a single scene from an as yet unpublished story by Matt Smith (https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#mattsmith). The bus stop scene became something of an earworm that I turned into this short(ish) story.

I hope everyone enjoyed part one, the continuation is coming soon. Feedback is my only compensation and motivation – so get in touch if you like this story.

Email me: niftyencomiums@gmail.com

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