Speedway

[EasyRory]

Chapter Ten – Time Trials


B. J. borrowed a used Benz off the lot where he worked for the ride to Vicki's party. He felt we shouldn't show up in a truck. In his opinion either one of our trucks, even looking their best, was too informal for the event, which, from the looks of things, promised to be as grand as he expected.

Renee greeted us at the door of her enormous house. “My SWEET young dancing partner ...” she hugged me. “And his LYIN' friend BEJESUS...” she said to B. J. “Bejesus! And you don't even have sisters; you have BROTHERS, and every one of them MARRIED I was pained to learn.” She hugged B. J. quite warmly. “Come IN, come in … What? You brought a GIFT? Oh, you shouldn't have ...” She added our homely little gift to a large pile of beautifully wrapped boxes of various sizes stacked on a table in the entryway. “And Racer … how ARE your sisters? At least Bejesus got their NAMES right!”

“I bet she knows your blood type,” B. J. whispered to me as we were firmly pushed into a large room to make way for the next arrivals approaching Renee's open arms. In a sea of strange faces it was nice to see Vicki recognize us.

“THERE y'all are … and looking so nice. I guess I forgot to say the FOUR of us need to go GET the tree before we can trim it.” She was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. “And by GET the tree, I mean chop it down!” She let out a whoop that would have made a Comanche proud.

“The four? Who's the fourth?”

She scanned the crowd and called out to one of them, “Lee! Lee Loudon Lovell? Come On!”

We reclaimed our coats and left the house. The four of us, with Vicki at the tiller, got into an elaborate golf cart and headed west. Lee was introduced as 'Momma's friend' with no further explanation. He didn't look that much older than B. J. or myself. He didn't say much more than we did either. Vicki did the talking.

“What about that tree? No, too skinny.” The next one had a twisted trunk. She successively eliminated enough misshapen trees to make a nice forest, before finding THE ONE. “There it IS!” she exclaimed. “Perfect!” She parked the cart and took a chain saw out of a storage bin under the rear seat. “I'm thinking I can saw it off and y'all can CATCH IT on the way down, so it doesn't get all SMOOSHED and lopsided.”

Her plan sounded plausible, even reasonable. Who wants a smooshed Christmas tree, right? She gave directions positioning us with the precision of a baseball manager deploying his fielders. “Back a little more, Racer; you're going for the top. A little left Lee … OK! Here GOES!”

She deftly carved a notch out of the trunk in the direction of the desired fall and then cut from the other side. “TIMBER!” she cried with hope and glory in her tones, but the tree didn't fall. Reflexively, we catchers all took a step or two closer. Big mistake. There was a cracking noise and the tree fell much faster than anyone expected. None of that slow lean and then gradually gathering momentum for the fall. It came down like a ton of bricks.

“Boys? Where ARE y'all?”

“Buried in this FUCKING TREE!” Lee yelled back at her. He sounded seriously pissed off. B. J. was the first on his feet and I was next. We had to roll the tree off of Lee.

“Oh, you poor THINGS!” Vicki said with no concern at all in her voice. “Let's go visit the lodge for a little revival. Daddy used to use this place when he wanted to get away. Of course, that was before he GOT away!” she said with a lighthearted laugh.

We drove through some larger trees and came to a low cabin that couldn't contain much more than a large single room. She walked in and threw a wall switch, instantly igniting a large gas-fed fire in a stone hearth at one end of the cabin. She walked toward the hearth and felt around, looking for something among the large stones. One of them swung out into the room.

“Isn't that CLEVER!” she exclaimed as she withdrew a dark and dusty bottle. “Daddy liked a bit of brandy on a cold day and this is a cold enough day. The fire will warm the room quickly and this will give it a little push. The bottle says the brandy's fifty years old, but it's probably been in the wall another twenty-five at least. Here ...” She thrust the bottle toward B. J. who was closest.

B. J., seeing no glass, pulled out the cork and tentatively took a swallow. The result brought tears to his eyes, and he wheezed, “It's good.” I took a swig ready for the worst, but it really wasn't bad. I passed the bottle to Lee, who looked skeptical. He elaborately wiped the mouth of the bottle with his shirt tail before sipping, glaring at the rest of us all the while.

Vicki took off her coat and took the bottle from Lee. She walked over to B. J., took a sip and then kissed him, before offering him another sip. She did the same with me. She tried it with Lee as well, but he groaned, “Oh, for God's sake,” before kissing her.

The brandy and the huge fire combined to warm the room. B. J. and I both shed our coats as the bottle came back around. Lee pointedly kept his on and conveyed a general disapproval of the whole scene. Vicki repeated her sip and kiss with B. J. and then said, “Let's switch it up … B. J., you take a sip and kiss Lee.”

B. J.'s eyes got real big, but Lee's eyes turned to fury. “I ain't playing any of your weird GAMES, Vicki! Never again! Not after … I told you NEVER again!” He turned and left the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

Vicki laughed. “He is so TOUCHY! I knew that would get rid of him.” She undid the top button of her shirt and stroked her neck, inviting our attention to how revealing a single open button could be on that particular shirt. “Now, where were we ...” she said prefatory to kissing me. Then she took our arms and lead B.J. and me to a sofa that faced the fire. We sat and I could feel the heat on my face.

We talked about Thanksgiving dinners and prior Christmases. We passed the bottle and kissed Vicki with each sip. Increasing warmth filled the cabin and I could feel the brandy. We joked about being too drunk to drive the golf cart back to the main house, although barely tipsy was more like our actual state of inebriation.

“Y'all are kissing up a storm, kissing me,” she said. “How 'bout you kiss each other?” She saw our reluctance. “I'm not doing another THING until you do. Go on, now, DO IT. Then we can get serious ...”

I looked at B. J. He looked at me. He shrugged. I shrugged. A tiny kiss took place. I opened my eyes and noticed another of Vicki's buttons was undone. She kissed us one after the other and allowed her shirt to open enough to expose one breast. She moaned sweetly when I cupped it. Then when I put my hand to her face, B. J. kissed her breast.

“You boys are being so nice to me,” Vicki whispered when I rested my hand on her thigh. “I want to see you kiss each other again.” She squirmed, letting my hand move higher up her thigh as B. J. sucked on her breast. The potential gain in this transaction was enormous.

B. J. must have realized it, too. There wasn't any hesitation this time. I could smell her perfume on B. J. when he came close to kiss me. “Again,” she said, when we parted. His time B. J. put his hand to my face and really kissed me. No passion, no tongue; but it was a real kiss.

“Oh, my … that was so sweet … you two just looked ...” Vicki groped for a word. “Maybe too sweet,” she added sadly but without any disapproval. We backed away and looked at her. “I'm afraid …” She stopped and with surprising delicacy drained the brandy bottle. “I'm afraid you two are maybe more into each OTHER than into ME. Now there's nothing wrong with that … I've had it happen before … in fact Momma says I have a thing for gay men … Isn't that SILLY! …”

“Wait! We're not gay!” B. J. protested.

“I don't know ...” Vicki countered. “You kissed ME like you were lookin' for sex. You kissed, Racer ...” She paused and kissed me. “He is kind of irresistible, isn't he? ... You kissed him like you love him. It had that look, you know?”

“I was being gentle … we're friends and all.”

“I KNOW! That's the problem. I want boys who like me. JUST me. Like LEE … What an act he puts on! I got him to suck a boy's dickie like he did it every DAY!” There was a little brandy and way too much glee in her chortle.

“It was Roger deWare, that nice boy from over near Fredricksburg? Roger's a big boy, you know? Lee tried to pull off and Roger made him SWALLOW!” She actually slapped her knee at the memory. “I ain't playing any of your weird GAMES, Vicki!” she growled mimicking Lee's deep bass voice. “He LOVES my weird games. I just wish he loved ME. Or somebody did ...” She sighed, got up, buttoned her shirt, and put her coat on. The cabin interlude was clearly over.

She was jolly, even, as we drove back to the house, towing the tree behind the cart and ignoring its state of smooshedness. “Now don't get all tangled up over this,” she said. “We still might have sex … y'all are so CUTE! … just not tonight.”

B. J. and I, we're polite Virginia boys. We stayed at the party long enough to watch Renee open our present and insist that we put it on the top of the tree, where it actually looked pretty good. If Daimler-Benz ever has problems building cars, they could consider making Christmas ornaments.

“Well, THAT was WEIRD!” was B. J.'s sole comment as we drove home. The radio filled in the silence. “Let's sit outside,” he said after we got there. “My brandy buzz has worn off.” So we sat on the porch in the cold, sipping vodka, and sharing the blanket.

“What were you thinking about?” B. J. asked me.

“When?” I needed clarification; I had been thinking a lot that day.

“Whenever ...” he said.

“If I hadn't been wearing black pants, you'd have seen a huge wet spot on 'em when she called it off.”

“A wet spot? You were … close to coming?”

“It was a real sexy situation. At least, I thought it was. I don't know what I would have done if she kept it up. Challenging us, I mean. Seeing how far we'd go.”

“When I kissed you ...” I felt his eyes boring into me.

“It felt ok. We ARE pretty good friends.”

“It felt ok?” he asked.

“Pretty good actually. It felt good.”

He stared at me. I knew what was going to happen but it took forever for him to touch my face again and then kiss me. He broke the kiss and sat back in silence. I pulled him toward me a little. Then he took over and kissed me again.

“I like being with you, Beej. I like being with you better than anybody else.” Tolstoy's words: I knew he'd remember them. We sipped the vodka and then kissed some more. With our glasses empty, we went inside and kissed on the couch. It was passionate, but pretty much innocent. Above-the-waist embraces and kisses, we didn't go beyond or below that, but still we could tell how aroused we both were.

“You're hard,” B. J. whispered and he pressed his pelvis against me to show me he was, too. “What are we going to do, Racer?”

“We could go into my room and ...”

“No! Sex would ruin everything!” There was anguish and hurt in B. J.'s voice; but then he kissed me again with compelling need, saying yes with his body. “We can't! We just can't!”

Fucking Tolstoy. I should have burned that book.

 

[Craiger]

That was awesome, Rory. Vicki is smarter than we give her credit. Her gaydar is tuned in better that our boys. It's kind of strange that B.J. is backing away from sex, however, at this point, he may be right. They would be better off letting this romantic spark take its time. Kissing is a good step forward...

Craiger

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
This was certainly a great way to start the day! The reading, not the frustration I can feel through our boys.

Will it turn into Paradise Lost? Or Nirvana?

We know life isn't all chocolate covered cherries - in reality OR in your stories. I still remember our boys of Alameda and the angst.

 

[Rickrock]

I enjoyed the boys enjoying themselves. Great chapter EasyRory.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Eleven - Idling Rough


I got home at the end of my first three and a half day week feeling tired in a nice way, the way hard work makes you feel tired and good at the same time. Paul waved to me.

“So,” Paul said, waggling his eyebrows, “I saw B. J. kiss you yesterday. Are my chances of getting fucked improving?”

“When?” I was worried and B. J. would have been shocked.

“Oh, anytime. I'm ready when you are ...”

“No! I mean when did you see him kiss me?”

“In the doorway, when he got in last night. Just shadows. You were backlit. But it sure looked like he planted one on you. He was excited getting out of his truck, bounded up the stairs, and grabbed you when you opened the door.”

“Yeah, well, he was just foolin' around. Joking, you know.”

“Racer … I've been through it. You can tell me … The five stages of turning queer.” I didn't say anything so he enumerated them. “Denial … no, I'm not gay; that all happened after a couple of beers. Doesn't count. Anger … Why me? Why me? Bargaining … God if you make this go away, I'll live in Queens and become a monk. I'm still at the bargaining stage, myself.”

“It's not a problem for me. B. J.'s the one having trouble with it.”

“Really … I'm all ears if you want to talk. If you don't, I can understand that because listening is what I do best, being, myself, all fucked up. For instance: why do I put up with Vince's shit? 'Cause when he's loving me, it's all worth while.”

“What shit? He seems like ...”

“Of course he seems like whatever … It's because he's so good looking. Because he LOOKS good, you automatically ASSUME he going to be smart, generous, respectful, nice to small animals, and a great lover. Well, ok, he IS some of those things; but it's that fuckin' blond hair. It just blinds everybody to gaping flaws in his character. He takes advantage.”

“We're gonna freeze out here, Paul. You want to come in?”

“Let's go to Vince's. You want some kreplach? I worked like a dog making it – killed one of Mike's chickens, butchered it, and all that - and Vince says to me, 'I don't like soup.' I got a ton of it.”

“Who's Mike?” I asked as I followed him to Vince's apartment.

“Mike's this awesome dude who makes furniture and raises chickens. It's his furniture that Vince and I run up to New York and sell. Sit down, I'll warm up the kreplach.”

I sat and looked around. Vince's apartment was much nicer than mine. Ok, not the apartment; it was almost identical; but his stuff was clean and civilized and nice and there was a lot of it. Curtains! Awesome! If I had curtains, I wouldn't need to dress in the dark all the time 'cause Mrs. Luckett said she could see me.

“Here you go.” Paul put a bowl of soup in front of me with something like ravioli in it.

“It's good!” I told him and it was. “Chicken soup, right? What did you call it?”

“Kreplach. So have my chances of getting fucked improved because of the soup?”

“Maybe,” I told him with a laugh.

“My mother always said I'd have a better chance with a well-fed girl.”

“I'm not a girl.”

“Yeah ... she wasn't right about girls either. Meanwhile … about Vince. I guess the real problem is I love him more than he loves me. Assuming I love him at all, of course. Which I'm not really sure about because I have no basis for comparison. He's it.”

“Did you ever have a girlfriend?”

“Of course. Hundreds. Was I ever their boyfriend? No, not really, although there was one who let me play with her tits. And one who would jerk me off when I got really insistent. Other than that ...”

“I function pretty well with girls,” I told him. “It's just … something seems to be missing.”

“Something that isn't missing with B. J. I get that,” Paul filled in. “But maybe you just haven't met the right girl? Have you considered that?”

“Maybe ...” I was a lot more comfortable listening to Paul's life than I was telling him about mine.

I was almost finished with the soup when Vince arrived. He said hi to me and asked, “Is it ok if I kiss my boyfriend?” Without waiting for my answer he grabbed Paul, bent him backward, and gave him a Hollywood-style kiss. The big kiss ended with several little ones that smacked loudly. “I love you and I would fuck you right now if we didn't have company.”

“Um, I can leave,” I said quickly.

Vince laughed and shook his head. The blond hair danced and shimmered. “I'm only here to scrub the wood chips off. Then I gotta go to work at the drug store,” he explained. “And when that's over,” he said to Paul, “you better be ready. I've been thinking about you all morning.”

I watched Vince go into the bedroom and turned to Paul. “He seems really happy.”

“Seems ... That's the big word. He always SEEMS like the perfect boyfriend, but is he really? What if he's faking it all? What if he's that way with everybody? Why would he be excited to see me?”

“Why wouldn't he? I like you … like talking to you … and you're funny.” I was whispering so Vince wouldn't hear us talking about him.

“You don't have to whisper. He never hears a thing I say,” Paul said in a normal tone. At that point Vince came out of the bedroom naked and walked the three steps into the bathroom, where I immediately heard a shower start to run. “See! He's shameless! Showing off for you!”

“Walking to the shower in his own apartment. How is that shameless?”

“He could have worn a bathrobe ...” Paul lamented.

“I don't have one. I'd have done the same thing.”

“I gave him one for his birthday. He never wears it. Ok, he wears it if he's going to the kitchen, otherwise no.”

“Um ...” I didn't know what I should say to that. “Thank you for the soup. I don't usually eat lunch. It was just right.”

“So fuckin' polite. Just like Vince.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“HE didn't eat it. Loved it, he said. But he DIDN'T EAT IT. You want to take some with? It'll make B. J. fuck you, I promise.”

I walked the four doors down to my place with a pot of soup that was still quite hot. It steamed in the cold air and smelled good. I declined Paul's crackers, which were just as bland as he said they were, and I chuckled over Paul's promise. B. J. fucking me was about as likely as Mrs. Luckett riding in on a horse.

That kiss in the doorway that Paul saw was just about the only thing we ever did. Kissing, I mean. We kissed a lot but it ended there. “We have to draw some boundaries,” B. J. said and they were initially drawn at the waist after he accidentally came when I touched his cock. He said that didn't count as having sex since it was an accident, not something we 'engaged' in.

It started the day after our first time. We were sitting having a glass of vodka and kinda edgy with each other and neither one of us brought up the subject of our make out session the night before. He had just raised the glass to his lips when I shifted position making him spill some vodka. Impulsively I liked the spill off his cheek saying something dumb like “Don't want to waste any.” He made some kind of sobbing noise and kissed me. We started making out again and then moved inside to the couch. His dick was poking out and I tried to move it a little so we could get closer together when he goes, “AAAHHH” and his dick goes off in his pants. He came out of the bathroom looking embarrassed sat far away from me on the couch waiting for the TV to show some sports highlights.

“Come here,” I said indicating a spot to sit closer to me. He didn't move, so I moved over next to him. I looked at him, but he wouldn't look back at me. I kissed him but he wouldn't return the kiss. I put my hand on his lap and discovered that his cock was still hard. With that he kissed me and removed my hand.

“Racer, we have to set some boundaries. Like no touching below the belt.” He kissed me after saying that. I put his hand on myself, showing him I was hard, too. “No,” he pulled his hand back. “We can't.”

“Why not?”

“ 'Cause sex will ruin it.”

“Ruin what?”

“Ruin us … you know … the way we are.”

“What exactly is 'in bounds' for us, Beej?” I tried to keep it light.

“I think it's ok to kiss. I like doin' that.” He gave me a brief kiss.

“What else?” That stumped him. “What about if my shirt is off?” I took my shirt off and kissed him.

“Racer, I …” I kissed him some more and his arms went around me.

“What if your shirt is off?” I asked him. Immediately he took his shirt off and pulled me back into his arms and a tight embrace. The warmth of his body excited me and I could feel his erection pressing against me through the cloth of his jeans. “It's ok to rub our cocks together like this as long as I don't use my hands? Is that in bounds?” He groaned between our kisses. “Maybe we should take our jeans off in case you come again and ...”

“No!” He pulled away from me. “That would be having sex. We can't do that.”

I watched the soundless highlights of last weekend's football games on the TV screen. “Are you afraid of sex?”

“No. Maybe. With you, I am. I'm afraid of … spoiling things. I like things the way they are.”

“Hugs and kisses and blue balls, Beej. That's the way things are. You think they really get blue? Or is that just bullshit?”

“I don't know ...” He sounded depressed. “I just want to live here with you and be with you every day and us be close.”

I leaned up against him. “How close?”

He put his arm around me. “Like this.” He kissed my cheek and I turned to him. He kissed my lips. “Like this, Racer.” He kissed me again.

“My cock's still hard. Is yours?”

There was a long pause before he answered a timid yes. He moved so I could stretch out against him, every part of me touching every part of him. He held me with his hands almost on my butt - almost, but not quite.

“I like it like this, Racer. Us being close.”

I should have complained about the arrangement right then and there, but that seemed dramatic and I'm not good at being dramatic. And it did feel nice. And he was kissing me a lot. And one of his hands went a little bit lower. B. J. was right. Being close was nice.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
I think I may be as frustrated as Racer about now - bit by tiny bit - just drop trou and get your ass in bed and make full court press love to each other, already!

 

[Craiger]

These two have to be the greatest. They are going to have to let some boundaries go. Racer's ready, and deep down B.J. is too, but suppressing it. Then there is Paul.... I'm surprised he hasn't been physically forward with Racer yet. Lots of talk and no action. How will he ever find the truth unless he has something to compare it with. Who's going to win first...Paul with Racer or Racer with B.J.? I'm loving this story, Rory.

Craiger

 

[EasyRory]

Leaving town again ... if I don't get a new chapter posted in a couple of days, it'll be a couple of weeks.

 

[Craiger]

We'll be here waiting, Rory.

Craiger

 

[Kyanimal]

I'm finally catching UP, and Lovin' this story, Rory!

"Our" boys are almost THERE, butt not quite!

The Tension is almost better than the "Real" thing!

SAFE Travels, Buddy!

And, yeah! ... like Craiger said, we'll be here when you return.

Of course ... No Matter What ...

Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[DonQuixote]

Safe journeys, Rory.

If you get bored in your down time . . .

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Twelve - High Octane, Low Compression


Paul opened the door and his face lit up. “Racer! You're here to fuck me!”

I laughed; I had become comfortable with Paul's offers of sex. If he hadn't said something, I think I might have been hurt. “No, I'm returning the soup pot.”

“So, did the kreplach work? You and B. J. did the deed? Tell me he topped!”

“No. Not exactly.”

“You topped?”

“Not exactly.”

“Clams have more to say than you do, Racer. Come on! Open up!”

I needed to tell somebody, and Paul was a sympathetic ear. The truth was that B. J.'s boundaries were like a 'semi-permeable membrane', my favorite concept in chemistry class. Osmosis. You could get through those boundaries. Sometimes.

There was one time like the night he came into my room after I'd gone to bed. He sat on my bed and wanted to talk about a couple of fine point in the game we had just watched. He wanted to impress on me the fact that Virginia Tech was using very old formations, the kind that nobody used any more, something he felt he had forgotten to explain adequately during the game.

“You just rarely see the shotgun; it's too confining. You tie up more of your own guys than the offense does and they can cover the receivers better.” He shivered. “Jeez, it's cold in here.” He was wearing just his boxers.

“Get in,” I told him, holding the covers back. He climbed in with me. Mrs. Luckett called my bed a twin and a half, whatever that means; but it was small. Contact was unavoidable.

“You're naked!”

“I always sleep naked.”

“You're also warm and cozy,” he added snuggling closer. With that the kissing began.

“Take your boxers off,” I told him and he complied instantly. He tried not to let his cock touch me, but, like I said, it's a small bed. On the top end we were kissing and midway down the bed we were sword-fighting. Finally we got as close together as we could and our cocks pressed together against our bellies. We rubbed around pushing against each other. He came first and then I did.

“Awesome!Yes! Finally! I thought it would never happen.” Paul clasped his hands over his head.

“It was messy,” I told Paul.

“I know! I'm washing sheets like crazy around here. Don't use that stuff they sell at the laundromat. I use Tide Simply Clean. It's cheaper and smells good. So what else happened?”

“The next morning B. J. emphasized that cumming was another 'accident' and it didn't mean we had had sex together. I said kind of we DID; but he said no, it wasn't planned so it didn't count. It didn't count when he came that next night either because he said I was playing with his balls and he never knew how hot doing that was gonna be. He never knew that just playing with his balls was enough to get him off.”

“Oh, my GOD, Racer.” Paul's infectious laugh made me giggle, too.

“The thing is I wasn't actually playing with his balls, I was more like playing with his asshole. You know, pressing here and there, just feeling around, and all of a sudden he's gasping and shooting!”

Paul laughed harder. “I KNEW IT! That hunky jock is a big old BOTTOM!”

“His ass is pretty trim, Paul. Not big or old. He's got a really nice ass.”

“NO! I mean he wants to get fucked more than I do! He LIKES you playing with his ass.”

“Hmm. Well ... maybe … So the next night with no warning he dove under the covers and sucked my cock! I said what are you doing! And he said I sucked the Hinckley brothers and I hated them. I might as well try sucking the cock of somebody I actually like. And he was good at it. He was awesome, in fact ... except I'm kinda like you and don't have any other experience to compare it to if you don't count girls. Anyway, he was MUCH better than jacking off, which I do have experience with.”

Paul smiled at me and then laughed. “No wonder he loves you, Racer.”

“Nobody's talking about LOVE, Paul.”

“Yes you are; you just don't know it. So how did he explain away sucking your dick as not having sex?”

“It wasn't planned. I never consented. We didn't do it as a couple. Just a one-sided thing, like him sucking the Hinckleys didn't count as sex, so I didn't either.”

“What happened last night? This has got to be working up to a spectacular finish!”

“Nothing happened last night. We made out a little, slept together. He didn't mind me holding his cock, but playing with his balls, as he calls it, was off limits. Nobody came. It was just nice and I slept great even in the small bed.”

“So I guess I'm not getting fucked, huh?”

“Not today, but you never know,” I told him.

“Speaking of which … are you ready for the big event? You have lube? Condoms?”

“Lube?”

“Just like a car, Race. Gotta lube up! Get everything nice and slick!” He gave me a tube of lube and a half dozen condoms. “I guess condoms might be optional with you two but DON'T forget the lube. Remember: nice and slick!”

Slick! I thought about him as I walked home. Calling Chess or Howard seemed like a good idea if I ever wanted a shot at going back to work with Slick. Did he get his nickname from lube? The idea of fucking him flashed through my brain and I cringed. The idea of him fucking me was worse. Eeuw! Majorly creepy. I could still feel his eyes on me as that chick sucked me off. What would he do if he saw B. J. sucking me? Man, I didn't want to think about it. But still I called Chess.

“He's mending up ok, Racer. A few more weeks 'til the cast comes off,” Chess said. “The car was a loss though. Sold it for parts. We got a couple of last year's late production Chevy SS's that are comin' along. Slick wanted Fords but Howard's watchin' the money. You know how he is. Wish you were here to help ...” I told him I was working at White Post Restorations thanks to his recommendation and asked him to keep me in mind if they needed help in the spring. I was glad I called Chess, not so much for the news as just to talk to him. He seemed like a lonely man and he shouldn't have been; he was always fun and interesting to be around.

I got a text from B. J. saying he was going to be out late. Even allowing for weird abbreviations, I could hardly make out what he was trying to say. I went to bed alone for the first time in several days. For a while it felt good to have the whole bed to myself, but then I missed B. J. being there.

“Hey,” came a breathy, alcoholic greeting.

“B. J., what time is it?” I groped for my phone, all I knew was it was dark outside.

“Time for a kiss,” he said. “Or two,” he said after the first one. “I've been celebrating.”

“I guess,” I turned on a little lamp that wasn't good for reading in bed or much else, thank you Mrs. Luckett. B. J. had a silly grin on his face.

“I sold three cars today. Is it ok if I get naked and join you?” He was half way there before he finished asking. “Did you like the blow job?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I'm kind of in the mood to do it again.” He hopped in bed and dove under the covers. He sucked for a bit and then ran for the bathroom. Listening to him throw up took the hardness out of my dick. He was smiling as he came back to bed. “I'm not as drunk as you think; that was just saying goodbye to a bad pizza.”

“Really? You feel all right?”

“Yeah. Fine. We'll give the blow job a minute, ok?” He pulled me against him and hugged me. “Did I tell you you're perfect? Your body, I mean?” He began giving me little kisses and then rolled so I was on top of him. “Your butt is the perfect size,” he said as he squeezed my ass like he was testing the firmness of a football.

We kept kissing and rubbing around. I was getting very aroused and it seemed like he was, too. I held his dick and felt wetness at the tip.

“Careful,” he warned me. I took my hand away and enjoyed his embrace. Then his legs wrapped around me and he tried to pull me even closer. I didn't realize it at first, but my cock was almost touching his asshole. He rotted his hips invitingly.

“You know what you're doing?” I asked him.

“I know what you're doing to me feels great,” he answered. My cock was rubbing up and down his asscrack. “You can keep doing that all night.”

“There's lube in the night stand and condoms if you want,” I told him.

He thought about that for a while, kissing me tentatively. Finally, decision made, he said, “Go for it.”

I slicked my dick and his ass and went for it. His initial reaction made me slow down and then stop once I was in him.

“WHOA! That got my attention,” he said, sounding completely sober. His eyes said keep going.

Then we began slowly, barely pushing against each other. The lube worked and I felt B. J. relax. I didn't see him relax because my eyes were closed. Every time I opened them he was looking back straight into them, making me nervous. I felt his kisses nibbling at my lips as if he needed to do something to keep his mind off the fucking. Then gradually he became more eager, needing my reassurance. “Harder,” he suggested carefully. I picked up the pace and he encouraged me more. Soon I was pounding him, really slamming into his ass. My orgasm came quickly, barely giving me time to realize I was cumming. But I was. I felt spurt after spurt and still I pounded into him until I wasq exhausted. I opened my eyes and saw him looking back at me. His face was red and puffy, probably from my beard scraping it, and his eyes were barely focused. Tears streamed down the sides of his cheeks.

“Oh my God, B. J.! Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head no and pulled me into a kiss. I looked at him again. Those were tears on his cheeks. More kisses. He winced as my cock suddenly popped out of his ass. I called his name and he answered. “Shhh. Let's sleep.”

In the morning he was dressed when I got up. He was unusually quiet and left soon for work without saying anything about the night before. I explained this to Paul. His reaction was, “Don't crowd him, let B. J. make the next move.”

I killed the day waxing my truck, which isn't easy to do on a cold day. I wasn't happy with the results and doing it wearing a heavy jacket was a complete pain. At work, they had special shed for painting and polishing. I wondered if they'd let me shine my truck there – on my own time, of course. Something to ask about. I got cleaned up and was about to read a book when B. J. came home early.

“Man, I'm a mess. Gotta take a shower!” he said and disappeared immediately into the bathroom. I decided to pour a couple glasses of vodka, in case he wanted to sit on the porch. I listened to the toilet flush and the shower run for what seemed like a long time. Finally, I heard the water flow stop. B. J. came into the kitchen wearing just boxer briefs and a t-shirt. “Racer?” he asked.

“Yep? Want some vodka?”

“About last night ...” He came closer. “I want to do it again.” He came close enough for me to feel his breath. “Now, ok? Right now.” He put my hand on his soft cock and kissed me. I felt the first stirrings of his erection. We went into the bedroom and did it again. Just like the night before. Same position. Same timing. Same everything.

After I came I opened my eyes and found him staring right back at me. “I've never seen anybody look the way you do when you come,” he told me. “I like thinkin' I make you look that way.” We relaxed a bit, got up and drank the vodka out in the cold, and then went back to bed. He lay face down and I massaged his back and neck. Then I fucked him again. Just short of too late, he said, “Wait. Let me roll over. I want to watch you come.”

“So now my chance of getting fucked by you is indistinguishable from zero,” Paul said when I told him. His face looked so down I laughed out loud.

“Not zero,” I told him, “but not good. Not good at all.”

 

[88Jockstraps]

Read your first chapter, you're pretty good.

 

[Kyanimal]

Maybe not good for Paul, butt Awesome for B.J. and Racer!!

Damn! I LOVE this story!!

Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
Well CUM back!

A great chapter - love is in the air - and so is cum - what isn't in BJ's butt!

 

[Craiger]

I love these two guys. How simple the romance seems, but in reality their growth has taken that slow bonding pace into love. Whether either want to say it of even admit it, that's where it seems to be going. Racer is lucky to have Paul around and someday may grant him his wish as a reward.

Hope you had an awesome trip, Rory.

Craiger

 

[uncut702]

More great chapters! I love where this is going, can't wait for more!! Thanks for writing!

 

[EasyRory]

Thanks everybody. I had a great (successful) trip and missed our two boys while I was gone.

 

[DonQuixote]

We could tell by the Happy Ending upon your return!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Thirteen - Running on Empty


“Racer! You look like shit!”

“Thanks, Paul. Nice of you to notice.”

“I go away for a week and come back to what? You've lost weight. You've got circles under your eyes. Did B. J. take off or something?”

“Or something … Give me ten minutes and come on over.”

I got in the bathroom and took a look in the mirror. I did look a little tired, but I deserved to. White Post Restorations was a lot of heavy work even in a slow time of year. And then there was B. J. who seemed to operate like the Eveready bunny. I took a shower and changed into warm clothes.

“I brought a pot of tea since you never seem to have anything,” Paul said.

“I have vodka.” I watched a strange look come over his face.

“Is that your problem? Too much vodka?” he asked with concern.

“No. The problem is B. J. who wants a LOT of sex when I'm also doing a LOT of work.”

“He's fuckin' your brains out, huh? What a pity … Wish I had that problem.”

“I'm the one fuckin' my brains out. If he were doing the fucking, I could just lie back … relax … read a book or something.”

“Taking a dick is not that easy, trust me. So YOU are doing the fucking. Somehow I always figured it would be the other way around. Maybe you should put some sugar in that tea. You know … energy.” I sat sprawled on the sofa and he looked me up and down. “Yeah,” he decided with a grin, “it shows. Even the bulge in your pants looks bigger. You're bitchin', but your lovin' it.”

“How was New York?” I asked him to change the subject.

“Such a welcoming atmosphere in Brooklyn. My mother figured out Vince and I are doing it, for which she blames me. She said I'm disgusting and I should grow up. And then she makes a play for Vince! I don't mean sex; but she can't help flirting with men – it's bred in her bones. Batting her eyes, offering to do his laundry, make meals.” He stopped and laughed. “He said ok and asked for ham with red eye gravy. I think she is looking for a kosher version to make for our next trip. Prince Vince gets the royal treatment, but I disgust her.” He shook his head. “It's the blond hair, I tell you. The fuckin' blond hair. She swoons around him and made me do my own laundry.”

“Sorry I asked.”

“Otherwise, the trip was ok. We're selling Mike's chairs too cheaply, I think. They don't appreciate his work, but they at least they bought all the chairs.”

There was thunder on the steps and then B. J. burst in. “Paul!” His shirt was unbuttoned and he was surprised I wasn't alone. “Hey!” he managed and sat down next to me. He sipped my tea and said, “Needs sugar.”

“Good day?” I asked.

“Yep.” He kicked his shoes off and squirmed around until I was sitting between his legs and leaning back against his chest. I could feel his breath on my neck as his arms went around me. He kissed my neck and unbuttoned the top of my shirt, slipping his hand in onto my chest. “You gonna sit and watch or do I get some alone time with my friend here?”

“I'm gone,” Paul said and he was.

“B. J., you gotta be nicer to Paul.”

“I want to be nice to you. Right now. Ok? I want to get you naked … and get you hard … ohhh, yeah ...” he sighed as he squeezed my cock. “We gotta do it, ok?” He kissed me before I could say anything.

Let me say I love fucking B. J. He'll do anything, try anything. Lately I think he likes lying face down with his rump up in the air best. “Harder,” he requested and then he whimpered as I pounded him. “You are so perfect, Racer,” he said between gasps. “You know just what to … AH! STOP!” I pulled out. “MAN, I was SO close.” He rolled over and I held his throbbing cock. “AH! TOO LATE!!! FUCK ME!”

It wasn't all that easy to get my dick back into him as he thrashed on the bed. I missed the first couple of spurts but joined him for the last of his orgasm. Exhausted, we kissed for a while before speaking.

“Racer, you know what? I'm gonna tell the world about us. Ok? It that ok? I don't want to be sneaking around ...”

“We're not sneaking around. We're roommates. People know that.”

“Yeah, but it's not the same.”

“Why? What's that going to solve? Or help? Are we gonna fuck better?”

“Don't say fuck … We don't actually fuck ...”

“B. J., I put my dick in you and we come. Three times a day. Morning, after work, and night. We're fuckin' all the time!”

“Yeah, but it's not really the same.”

“As what? You want to tell people we're gay - but you won't admit we fuck?”

“I guess I'm not being logical. I just want people to know how great you are and how happy I am being with you. I am, Race. I've never felt like this.” He resumed kissing me.

“Are you saying you love me?”

He stopped. He looked at me hard. “I ...” He let his thought unfinished. “Do we have to make it complicated?”

“No, we don't. So don't say anything. I like knowing you're happy. You make me happy. Isn't that enough for now?”

“Yes,” he said with a huge smile.

“When are you going to fuck ME?” I asked and watched his smile fade.

“But don't you like what we're doing now? I do. I like it a LOT.”

“I love what we're doing now.” He winced at my use of the word love.

“So … let's keep doing it.”

“Fucking,” I emphasized.

“Yes, let's keep doing it.”

He kissed me again and I need to say he is an excellent kisser. We took a little nap and then went out for dinner. For once he seemed as tired as I was. We went to an Italian place that made a decent pepper and sausage plate. Comfort food.

“White Post wants to set up a car detailing operation for the slow times. And by 'operation', I'm pretty sure they mean just me. They like my work but there isn't enough of it restoring cars. So tomorrow I'm takin' my act on the road. Going to some house and detailing the guy's car.”

“What kind of car?” B. J. asked.

“I don't know. All I have is a name and address outside of town, out off Route 29. Have Turtle Wax, will travel. They're gonna give me travel mileage and I get to keep the tip, if there is one.”

“What's the name?” he asked.

“Thomas Lynne. Ever heard of him?”

B. J. shook his head no and reached across the table. Making sure nobody was looking, he traced his forefinger along my hand. “Want to go home?” That was his way of saying he wanted more sex.

We sipped a little vodka on the porch in the near freezing cold for as long as we could stand it. It made the bed seem even more cozy. We got all wrapped up in each other and kissed.

“You're nineteen and I'm twenty and sometimes I swear you're ten years older than me, Racer. What we're doing is all new to me and awesome and it blows my mind when I think about it. Wait! Stop! I'm trying to be serious!”

“Oh. I thought that was your way of saying fuck me.”

I had shocked him I guess. He paused, took a breath, sighed when I started slowly jacking his hard cock, kissed me, sighed again, and then said, “Fuck me.”

B. J.'s basically a very generous person; and he's a great fuck and I love him. I'm not sure why he thinks I can handle that idea any better than he can; it's all new to me too. But he isn't ready for that. We'll try for what's possible. Maybe I can get him to be nicer to Paul.