Subject: The Great Race THE GREAT RACE By [email protected] WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM There were nearly three thousand people in the town square, effectively the entire population of Podunkia. The Great Race, held once a year in honor of their independence, held a patriotic fervor that the USA held for the 4th of July. Which was why, when my editors found out about the place, they sent me down to report on it. Hell of a place, Podunkia. I’m not sure how they did it, but someone in the not-so-distant past managed to get the countries of Austria, Hungary and Yugoslavia (now Slovenia) to draw their borders in a way that a small, semi-triangular section right at their nexus was unclaimed by any of them. The result…Podunkia. One small town (where we were now) and four dinky villages. Don’t blink when driving through the place…you might miss it! God knows I had missed the road into it the first three tries I tried to get there. Shouldn’t a country’s only main road have a sign pointing the way in? But no matter, now I was here and the festivities were about to begin. Time for the national anthem. The band (all eight of them) were striking up the music. I’ll translate: “All hail, Podunkia! A land you can barely see! All hail, Podunkia. So tiny that we’re free! Our fortune’s one of a kind! They can’t fight what they can’t find! Out of sight and out of mind! Is our land, Podunkia! So Podunkians, stand proud and tall, We’re the greatest land of all! Great because we are so small! Just look at any map, That speck is not fly-crap! That’s Po-dun-ki-aaaaaa!” And with that, the race was ready to begin. I turned to my local guide, Mikros. “Okay, you know I only got in last night and had no chance to read up on the Great Race. Tell me about it.” “It is simple. The race is laid out so that both the start and finish is here in the town square. This lets everyone be there for both start and finish. The track goes out of town, makes a large loop in the Eastern Park, and then returns here.” “So nobody is watching the runners to be sure they stay to the track?” I asked. Mikros looked offended. “You are saying that our athletes are not to be trusted? It is a matter of honor!” “Sorry.” I said. “So how long is the track and what’s the average run time?” “Our very best men run a track that is 2 kilometers in length. The average time is just under a half hour.” “A half hour?” I said. I mean, 2 kilometers is about 1.1 miles. An arthritic grandmother could cover that in a half hour! And men in the prime of their life…. “Uh, tell me about the athletes.” “Of course.” Mikros indicated. “There are seven of them this year. One representative from each of the villages and one each from the north and south halves of our capital.” I did the math in my head. “That’s six. Who’s the seventh?” “Vlados.” Mikros pointed to a large, chubby man who looked to have more than a nodding acquaintance with Big Macs and supersized fries. “So why is he being allowed to run?” I asked. I mean, if he didn’t represent anyone…. “He wanted to run.” Mikros said. “So why not?” I considered that and had to smile. A small country does have its charms. “The rest of the runners all seem to be…very athletic.” I said. That was an understatement; the main products of this country was fresh produce, fruits and vegetables. Plenty of farm-fed young studs with lots of broad arms, washboard abs and legs like trees were ready and willing to spend a morning running for the glory of their village. Still…a half-hour to run 2 kilometers? That had to be some race course there. “Can we kızkalesi escort go out and observe the runners on the course?” I asked Mikros. “Of course not!” Mikros proclaimed. “Observation of the course is quite forbidden. That is why the path through the forest that you can reach by going through that alley over there is strictly off-limits.” “They have it fenced off?” “Of course not, it is a matter of honor.” Mikros said. “Oh, yes,” I nodded. “Of course.” Maybe I nodded a bit too emphatically. Mikros nodded himself. “And with everyone watching the racers as they start, their backs will be to that alley. Why should anyone miss the start of the race to walk that way?” “Why indeed.” I agreed. “The best runners are Carmos and Dinsos.” Mikros said, pointing them out, numbers 4 and 6. “They are the ones who are our fastest runners. After that is Timmos, then Edvos, Kritos and Simnos. And Vlados, of course.” “Of course.” I said. Vlados would be a good bet…for dead last. He’d have trouble making the run in a half hour! Still, as a reporter of a sporting event, I knew what I had to do. I waited until the runners were at the starting line, when all backs were turned…and I raced for the alley Mikros had indicated. I had to get to the track before the runners could start coming by. I had studied a map of the town and its environs the night before (jet lag can make you keep strange hours), so I knew the route the race would have to take to get two kilometers out of that not-so-enormous park. The trail Mikros had mentioned would put me about a third-way along the race course. I nearly stumbled over my own feet when I saw I wasn’t the only spy to observe the racers. Ahead of me was a young man, dressed in simple peasant-farmer clothing, was lurking in the bushes next to the race course. I could slip in the other side and see the runners who were soon to pass by… “Ho, Carmos!” the young man in the bushes called out. Carmos saw him, and said, “Ho, Prakros!” “You are in the lead.” Prakros began to run alongside him, they were heading my way. “Yes, for now.” Carmos said. “My brother Dinsos is a good runner, too.” Prakros said. “He is just behind you.” “Yes, I must run hard to stay ahead of him.” Carmos replied. “My brother would be so happy to win the race.” Prakros said. “Perhaps you need not run so fast.” “And why should I not run as fast as I may?” Carmos wanted to know. “I would have to have a reason.” “I can give you a reason.” Prakros agreed. And the two retired into the bushes. Surprised, I saw that Dinsos was being similarly accosted by another young man a bit further down the road. And going with him into the bushes on the other side! And the other four runners were passing these two star athletes, and I saw pudy Vlados plugging away a good bit further down the way toward the starting line. I looked back at Carmos and saw that he had found a tree that had fallen over recently, a storm or something perhaps, and was lying along its trunk. Eager young Prakros was kneeling and I watched as Carmos took his cock out of his trunks and presented the nine-inch, thick, dripping monster pud to Prakros, who showed a good deal of expertise by slurping it down midway on the first thrust. Carmos threw his head back and moaned as Prakros began to work up and down, and each time, another inch vanished into his young maw as the saliva built up along the shaft like silver plating on a worn-out, but cherished piece from a family tea service. It was gleaming in the sun and above it was the golden body of Carmos, his throat sending out a strong baritone of pleasure and Vlados finally puffed by on his trek down the trail. Nobody else to see me, now. I watched the young athlete being serviced his competitor’s brother tarsus escort and my hand slid down to my pants and steathily undid them. My cock was eager enough to taste the daylight and greeted the morning by dripping a crystalline strand down to the grass beneath. Across the way, I saw that Dinsos was about to ram his own dong into the young man who had waylaid him. I had discovered the secret of the extraordinary length of the average time of the Grand Podunkia Independence Race. As well as why a young farmer who worked hard every day might be willing to waste a day’s energy competing! How many young studs lurked along the track, ready to aid their own choice in the win? My hand stroked my pud as I saw Carmos moaning and his head swinging back and forth as Prakros continued to minister to him. The sound of those tender lips were now audibly moist as he plied his mouth upon the sturdy Podunkian rod, the lithely bronze body was rippling as the muscles flexed and danced in their joy at the sensations racing from his prick up through his champion body. My own hand was pounding away, I could feel what Carmos must be feeling, the ardent slurping on my pud, the trembling of my body as oral delight poured forth through every limb and exuded from every pore. Carmos was groaning, licking his lips, and groaning once more, his body was beginning to move in the semi-unconscious motions of the male in rut, he wanted to fuck upwards, but that would only hinder Prakros’ attentions to him, so he could only…writhe and groan. “Ah, Prakros, you are as wonderful as I thought you would be.” Carmos said huskily. “When I saw you at the grain weighing that day with your father and brothers, I knew you would be with the lips of velvet and the mouth as gentle as the mother’s kiss! Long have I dreamed of having you meet me, and I hoped, nay, I prayed that Dinsos would ask you to be the one to divert me in the race.” Prakros stopped only long enough to answer, “And I begged Dinsos for the chance to perform this service for him.” And the youth resumed his worship of the proud racer’s dong. My own hand was sending shockwaves of joy through my body now. Soon, I would christen these sweat-dappled fields with my own seed, fertilize the rich soil with my own potency. And my eyes feasted upon the forms of the marvelously handsome and strong Carmos as he accepted Prakros’ services, as Prakros drove Carmos’ dong to the very height of pleasure. I heard a sound and I looked over to see Dinsos throw his head back and roar as he jetted his seed into his young partner’s butt. Soon, Dinsos would be back in the race! Carmos saw this as well, for he groaned, “Now, my dear gentle Prakros, finish me so that I may finish the race with some honor at least! Perhaps when the harvest begins, you can come to my farm to help with the harvest, my family is in need of another worker. And you could share my bed with me!” Prakros was inspired by this promise, and his head bobbed with a fury unrivaled in nature, and the blurring face was rewarded as Carmos moaned and his body stiffened, his back arced upwards, and I saw Prakros’ face as his cheeks bulged with the load of hot Podunkian jizz he was getting, and then his eyes glittered in delight! I could bear it no more, I released a few, stifled moans and my body roared with climax and my cock spurted white sailboats of jism out onto the grassy sea, huge blobs that clung as if living insects to the fronds and my feet were unsteady and I nearly fell, but kept my feet with difficulty, and then wrung the final drops free of my pud and let them drop, rich pearls, down to the greenness below. Carmos was done as well, he was panting heavily while Prakros was rising, his lips licking as he savored the last dregs from anamur escort Carmos’ prong, and I saw Dinsos was readjusting his trunks and about to run. Heedless of my own need to be hidden, I called out, “Carmos! Dinsos is about to outpace you. You must run! Now!” Carmos didn’t turn to see who had spoken, he staggered to his feet, with a squat of his legs and hitch of his hands at his waist, he flipped his now-flaccid cock back into his trunks, and off he ran again, to follow close on the heels of Dinsos. “The race is lost!” I said to Prakros, no longer hiding myself from him. “I think not.” Prakros said. “You and I are not the only ones who have set out this day to play their part in the outcome of the Great Race. Sometimes, the first man does not cross the line for nearly an hour. The others will be similarly delayed. You will see. Come.” And I went with Prakros, the two of us taking shortcuts through the wood through which the path wound madly, and I saw the other four main racers diverted as well. “Who is the one who stopped your brother?” I asked Prakros. “I do not know his name, but he is one of the cousins of Timmos.” Prakros said. “And I see Timmos has met with the uncle of Simnos. Edvos has found the brother-in-law of Kritos and I see Kritos plowing the buttocks of the nephew of Edvos.” “Then all have delayed.” I said. “And except for the joy of the racers, the outcome is not changed at all.” “It never is.” Prakros smiled. “Though there is much amusement in the weeks before every Great Race, when the duty of every gambling man is to figure out who has managed to work things out the best way. Do you send your kinsman after the lead runner, or one of the secondary runners.” “I can see it would be involved.” I said, then a chilling thought hit me. “I don’t see Vlados!” Prakros gave me a shocked look and we ran back to the town square. Where Vlados, fat, sweaty, exhausted, bent over and panting heavily, was being acknowledged as the winner of the Great Race. In a way much like the fabled race between the Tortoise and the Hare, slow and steady had done it for the Grand Podunkia Independence Race! Mikros found me as I was watching Vlados receive his award and his accolades. I was bemused by the look on his face. He had just won his country’s most prestigious honor…and you never saw a more downcast look on a winner’s face in your life. Vlados had not run in hopes of winning. He’d had his own eye on the treat in between and none had stopped him. A loss in the midst of victory. “A most enjoyable race this year, was it not?” Mikros asked me. “It was, indeed.” I said. “Though I can’t see how I can send my editors a story they can use here, so I’ve lost out today. Everyone lost, even the winner today is a loser.” “I wouldn’t say that.” Mikros said. “The odds on Vlados’ win was over 18-1. I had placed a hundred doshas on him.” “Really?” I said. The Podunkian dosha was worth nearly three American dollars. “I had spent months finding out about the runners in this year’s race. Then I looked at my results, and went to my cousin. ‘Vlados,’ I said, ‘I have an odd request to make of you.'” The fox that eludes the hunters must grin much as Mikros was smiling. I saw that grin and I said, “Oh.” The national anthem was struck up again, and I heard again the song blasting out. “All hail, Podunkia! A land you can barely see! All hail, Podunkia. So tiny that we’re free!” “Will you come back to see the race again next year?” Mikros asked me. “Vlados will have to run again, it is required by our custom.” I considered this and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Only, when you make your bets, put me down for twenty doshas?” “Agreed.” Mikros and I shook hands, co-conspirators in a country filled with conspirators. “Just look at any map, That speck is not fly-crap! That’s Po-dun-ki-aaaaaa!” THE END Comments, complaints or suggestions? E-mail the Author at [email protected] WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

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