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Speedway
- Thread starter EasyRory
- Start date
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Seventeen - Adjusting the Idle
I didn't spend the night at Tommy Lynne's house, although it was nice of him to offer. One blow job at a time, I figured. Instead I drove home. It wasn't too late; it wasn't too snowy; and it wasn't too difficult. There was a Subway within walking distance, so after I parked my truck I hiked over the the shop.
“Jared, my man, easy on the jalapeños,” a sketchy looking character called out.
“My name's not Jared,” the attendant countered. “You asked for heavy jalapeños.”
“I meant pick out the plump ones, not add huge quantities. What is your name then?”
“Dick. There are no plump ones; they're all sliced.”
“Last name Head? Sorry, my little joke.”
“Can you actually pay for this sandwich?” Dick countered sounding testy.
“I can, provided it costs no more than …” He searched his pockets and counted the result. “Three dollars and seventy eight cents.”
Dick's lips formed the word 'fuck', but he didn't quite say it. “I'll make you a six-incher.”
“That's appropriate,” the man said.
“I'll pay for what he wants,” I volunteered. “It's Christmas and all.” Plus Tommy Lynne had tipped me generously again.
“Now I've got two sandwiched half made ...” Dick lamented.
“Give him the twelve and I'll take the six. Easy on the jalapeños.” I figured that would solve the problem.
“Young man, you look like you need the twelve. Were you working today?” the old guy said.
“I washed the mud off a '57 Chevy.”
“Fifty years of mud?”
“No, one days worth. The odd part was doing it naked.”
“This is the weirdest job I've ever had,” Dick said to himself without looking up. He handed his customers their sandwiches.
“I was under the car and had to clean mud off the undercarriage to check for damage; I didn't have a change of clothes; it seemed like a good idea.”
“Practical and efficient; but wasn't it cold?”
“It was cold, even though the garage was heated; but the pay was good.”
“If you don't mind my asking, how did you arrive at the decision to do it naked?”
“Necessity. The owner offered me a bathing suit, but it didn't fit.”
“Tommy Lynne?” the old man asked.
“How'd you know?”
“I taught him that trick thirty years ago, under different circumstances, of course. What's your name?”
“Racer Tyree.”
“Neil Stribling, at your service and in your debt. This is a very fine sandwich.”
“You're welcome and I hope you had a merry Christmas, Mr. Stribling.”
“Please, Neil. I had a terrible Christmas, but that was my own fault. How was yours?”
“My family didn't miss me and my roommate ran out. Otherwise it was ok.”
Now that the acute pain of B. J.'s disappearance was over, it was my mother's reaction when I called her that really annoyed me. “Hi, Momma,” I said. “I don't feel so great, so B. J. and I won't be visiting today.” And she said, “Really, Racer? I thought you were here earlier. You sure you weren't? Maybe it was one of Brianna's husbands. A couple of them look like you, except for the hair and the height.” Totally pissed me off after I thought about it. They don't look at all like me.
“The New Year will improve!” Neil toasted me with the last of his sandwich.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I proposed.
“No thank you, Racer. You're a fine young man. You have done more than enough.”
I walked back to my apartment through what was now about three or four inches of snow. Neil's smile made be feel good. At least I had brightened one person's day. I wasn't dressed warmly enough and was shivering as I tried to put the key in my lock.
“Hurry up and open it,” Paul called as he ran my front stairs. “Merry three days after Christmas,” he said and gave me an unprovoked kiss on the lips.
“What was that about?”
“I'm feeling generous,” Paul answered as we walked in.
“Why?”
“Because Vince said he loves me in a totally unpersuasive way, namely, WHILE he was fucking me, which probably means he'll heave my ass out in the snow tomorrow. So I need some cheering up.”
“Why you? I'm the one whose boy friend walked out and whose mother doesn't remember what he looks like.”
“Seriously? She had probably been into the egg nog, Racer. Speaking of which, did B. J. leave any vodka?”
“There's a one point seven five liter in the cabinet. And I look nothing like ANY of Brianna's husbands.” Paul's interest picked up at the mention of men. “Forget it, Paul. Not one of them is hot … in the least and Momma thinks one or more of them looks like me.”
“And you, all agree, even the ex-husbands, are seriously hot looking ...” Paul muttered as he poured out two glasses. “You want to sit outside the way you used to with B. J. or would that be too depressing?”
“Sure. I like watching it snow.” We settled under coats and a blanket an sipped the fiery liquor. “Nice,” I sighed. The snow had quieted my little world, even the traffic a hundred feet away was hushed. “You know, last time we sat like this B.J. got naked under the blanket. Near drove me crazy.”
“Don't go getting morose or you'll fuck me.”
“Paul, what has morose got to do with fucking you?”
“I just want to plant the idea. You know, in case you get morose AND horny.”
He leaned his head against mine. I laughed and returned his earlier kiss. It felt surprisingly warm and nice. We sat and sipped and speculated on how late the rush hour traffic from Washington would run tonight. “Some have probably pulled off the road already or stayed at work.”
“Vince, for one. He called and said he's snowed in at Mike's. Can't get up the drive to the main road. I said who else is snowed in and he said oh, just me and Otis. And I said who the fuck is Otis? As if I didn't know! Otis is this 'convenience', really, that's the only word for him, who has sex randomly but eventually with everybody he meets. I'm trying to be nice, 'cause he is not right in the head, but honest, Racer, I swear he uses that to seduce people. Already he has this deal with Vince that they are always naked with each other. So tonight, they'll be naked and fucking. I know it.”
“Sounds like me and Tommy Lynne today.”
“Did you wash his car naked AGAIN???”
“It was a special case, Paul.”
“Bullshit! Special case! There's no such thing!”
“You probably right. I let him blow me.”
“Naked car washes. The special comes with a blow job! You're gonna be moving in next.”
“He did offer to let me stay – just 'cause of the snow.”
“Racer, you're crazy … cute, but crazy.” He sipped his drink and watched the snow.
“Five hundred dollar tip,” I dropped on him quietly.
“Really? Would he like it if you had an assistant? I'm barely making that much in New York on a whole load of chairs. You know what the asshole competition are doing? Spreading rumors that REAL Mike Pierce chairs have five legs and I'm selling counterfeits! Five legs!!! And people believe it!”
“Maybe they just pretend to believe to get a better price out of you?” He didn't say anything after that, so I asked him point blank, “What's it feel like to get fucked?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because B. J. seemed to like it a lot and I don't understand how he could just walk away. I know I couldn't, but I was at the other end of things.”
“Man … tough subject, how does it feel. It feels totally different if you're in love; I'll tell you that. But even if you aren't … and I wasn't at first ...” He sipped his vodka and paused. “It hurts. Every time. There no getting around that. But the hurt goes away. And there's a kind of glow … no, that's not the right word … a warmth you feel in your whole pelvic area that's kind of like a long, super slow orgasm, without the big peak … my dick leaks like a garden faucet when Vince is fucking me … and if he kisses me and says sweet stuff, even though it's all lies … sometimes, not every time, but sometimes I come … that slow orgasm turns hot and BOOM … but even when I don't come spontaneously, if he jacks my cock I go off fast … but even if I don't come at all … and that happens, too … I feel as if I did and I WANT to get fucked and fucked because I know I'm making Vince come. And he's awesomely cuddly after he comes, the lying scum bag … and for a few minutes he convinces me that he totally loves me and I want to melt 'cause I feel like he really means it, especially when his dick is still in me … that we have a real connection … we're like the same person for while … and just when we relax the faithless douche bag will say some bullshit like 'I want to fuck you forever' and I KNOW he's lying. But he's such a great fuck when it's happening ...” Paul drained his glass. “You want more?”
I gave him my glass and he hustled through the cold into the house for refills. Lots of what he said seemed to be like B. J.'s reaction to me. But I couldn't figure out why he distrusted everything Vince said. So, when he returned with half-full glasses, I straight out asked him.
“Why do you always think Vince is lying?”
“My mother said so.” He sipped. “Not about Vince, not specifically. She correctly pointed out that it's a mistake for someone like me to go after someone like Vince. Someone out of my league. Her specific reference was to Feiga Borstein, who at a young age had pretty eyes and big boobs and was being chased and caught by every kid on the block. I think her mother had her fitted for a diaphragm when she was eight. Anyway, every guy in south Brooklyn who could get it up had his way with her, except me. I lacked that certain something, dear mother said, by which she meant sex appeal, a nice build, basic attractiveness; the only thing she admitted was that I was clean, for which she took credit.” He sipped.
“Your mother sounds like a bitch, if you don't mind my saying so.”
“Not really. She meant well. She felt being a realist was better than being a dreamer.”
“Was she good looking?”
“God, no.”
“I think you're nice looking, Paul.”
He looked at me. “Is this working out that I'm morose and you're horny?”
“Maybe ...”
“Racer, I've always been joking about us hookin' up. You're out of my league, too.”
“Maybe not ...”
I didn't spend the night at Tommy Lynne's house, although it was nice of him to offer. One blow job at a time, I figured. Instead I drove home. It wasn't too late; it wasn't too snowy; and it wasn't too difficult. There was a Subway within walking distance, so after I parked my truck I hiked over the the shop.
“Jared, my man, easy on the jalapeños,” a sketchy looking character called out.
“My name's not Jared,” the attendant countered. “You asked for heavy jalapeños.”
“I meant pick out the plump ones, not add huge quantities. What is your name then?”
“Dick. There are no plump ones; they're all sliced.”
“Last name Head? Sorry, my little joke.”
“Can you actually pay for this sandwich?” Dick countered sounding testy.
“I can, provided it costs no more than …” He searched his pockets and counted the result. “Three dollars and seventy eight cents.”
Dick's lips formed the word 'fuck', but he didn't quite say it. “I'll make you a six-incher.”
“That's appropriate,” the man said.
“I'll pay for what he wants,” I volunteered. “It's Christmas and all.” Plus Tommy Lynne had tipped me generously again.
“Now I've got two sandwiched half made ...” Dick lamented.
“Give him the twelve and I'll take the six. Easy on the jalapeños.” I figured that would solve the problem.
“Young man, you look like you need the twelve. Were you working today?” the old guy said.
“I washed the mud off a '57 Chevy.”
“Fifty years of mud?”
“No, one days worth. The odd part was doing it naked.”
“This is the weirdest job I've ever had,” Dick said to himself without looking up. He handed his customers their sandwiches.
“I was under the car and had to clean mud off the undercarriage to check for damage; I didn't have a change of clothes; it seemed like a good idea.”
“Practical and efficient; but wasn't it cold?”
“It was cold, even though the garage was heated; but the pay was good.”
“If you don't mind my asking, how did you arrive at the decision to do it naked?”
“Necessity. The owner offered me a bathing suit, but it didn't fit.”
“Tommy Lynne?” the old man asked.
“How'd you know?”
“I taught him that trick thirty years ago, under different circumstances, of course. What's your name?”
“Racer Tyree.”
“Neil Stribling, at your service and in your debt. This is a very fine sandwich.”
“You're welcome and I hope you had a merry Christmas, Mr. Stribling.”
“Please, Neil. I had a terrible Christmas, but that was my own fault. How was yours?”
“My family didn't miss me and my roommate ran out. Otherwise it was ok.”
Now that the acute pain of B. J.'s disappearance was over, it was my mother's reaction when I called her that really annoyed me. “Hi, Momma,” I said. “I don't feel so great, so B. J. and I won't be visiting today.” And she said, “Really, Racer? I thought you were here earlier. You sure you weren't? Maybe it was one of Brianna's husbands. A couple of them look like you, except for the hair and the height.” Totally pissed me off after I thought about it. They don't look at all like me.
“The New Year will improve!” Neil toasted me with the last of his sandwich.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I proposed.
“No thank you, Racer. You're a fine young man. You have done more than enough.”
I walked back to my apartment through what was now about three or four inches of snow. Neil's smile made be feel good. At least I had brightened one person's day. I wasn't dressed warmly enough and was shivering as I tried to put the key in my lock.
“Hurry up and open it,” Paul called as he ran my front stairs. “Merry three days after Christmas,” he said and gave me an unprovoked kiss on the lips.
“What was that about?”
“I'm feeling generous,” Paul answered as we walked in.
“Why?”
“Because Vince said he loves me in a totally unpersuasive way, namely, WHILE he was fucking me, which probably means he'll heave my ass out in the snow tomorrow. So I need some cheering up.”
“Why you? I'm the one whose boy friend walked out and whose mother doesn't remember what he looks like.”
“Seriously? She had probably been into the egg nog, Racer. Speaking of which, did B. J. leave any vodka?”
“There's a one point seven five liter in the cabinet. And I look nothing like ANY of Brianna's husbands.” Paul's interest picked up at the mention of men. “Forget it, Paul. Not one of them is hot … in the least and Momma thinks one or more of them looks like me.”
“And you, all agree, even the ex-husbands, are seriously hot looking ...” Paul muttered as he poured out two glasses. “You want to sit outside the way you used to with B. J. or would that be too depressing?”
“Sure. I like watching it snow.” We settled under coats and a blanket an sipped the fiery liquor. “Nice,” I sighed. The snow had quieted my little world, even the traffic a hundred feet away was hushed. “You know, last time we sat like this B.J. got naked under the blanket. Near drove me crazy.”
“Don't go getting morose or you'll fuck me.”
“Paul, what has morose got to do with fucking you?”
“I just want to plant the idea. You know, in case you get morose AND horny.”
He leaned his head against mine. I laughed and returned his earlier kiss. It felt surprisingly warm and nice. We sat and sipped and speculated on how late the rush hour traffic from Washington would run tonight. “Some have probably pulled off the road already or stayed at work.”
“Vince, for one. He called and said he's snowed in at Mike's. Can't get up the drive to the main road. I said who else is snowed in and he said oh, just me and Otis. And I said who the fuck is Otis? As if I didn't know! Otis is this 'convenience', really, that's the only word for him, who has sex randomly but eventually with everybody he meets. I'm trying to be nice, 'cause he is not right in the head, but honest, Racer, I swear he uses that to seduce people. Already he has this deal with Vince that they are always naked with each other. So tonight, they'll be naked and fucking. I know it.”
“Sounds like me and Tommy Lynne today.”
“Did you wash his car naked AGAIN???”
“It was a special case, Paul.”
“Bullshit! Special case! There's no such thing!”
“You probably right. I let him blow me.”
“Naked car washes. The special comes with a blow job! You're gonna be moving in next.”
“He did offer to let me stay – just 'cause of the snow.”
“Racer, you're crazy … cute, but crazy.” He sipped his drink and watched the snow.
“Five hundred dollar tip,” I dropped on him quietly.
“Really? Would he like it if you had an assistant? I'm barely making that much in New York on a whole load of chairs. You know what the asshole competition are doing? Spreading rumors that REAL Mike Pierce chairs have five legs and I'm selling counterfeits! Five legs!!! And people believe it!”
“Maybe they just pretend to believe to get a better price out of you?” He didn't say anything after that, so I asked him point blank, “What's it feel like to get fucked?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because B. J. seemed to like it a lot and I don't understand how he could just walk away. I know I couldn't, but I was at the other end of things.”
“Man … tough subject, how does it feel. It feels totally different if you're in love; I'll tell you that. But even if you aren't … and I wasn't at first ...” He sipped his vodka and paused. “It hurts. Every time. There no getting around that. But the hurt goes away. And there's a kind of glow … no, that's not the right word … a warmth you feel in your whole pelvic area that's kind of like a long, super slow orgasm, without the big peak … my dick leaks like a garden faucet when Vince is fucking me … and if he kisses me and says sweet stuff, even though it's all lies … sometimes, not every time, but sometimes I come … that slow orgasm turns hot and BOOM … but even when I don't come spontaneously, if he jacks my cock I go off fast … but even if I don't come at all … and that happens, too … I feel as if I did and I WANT to get fucked and fucked because I know I'm making Vince come. And he's awesomely cuddly after he comes, the lying scum bag … and for a few minutes he convinces me that he totally loves me and I want to melt 'cause I feel like he really means it, especially when his dick is still in me … that we have a real connection … we're like the same person for while … and just when we relax the faithless douche bag will say some bullshit like 'I want to fuck you forever' and I KNOW he's lying. But he's such a great fuck when it's happening ...” Paul drained his glass. “You want more?”
I gave him my glass and he hustled through the cold into the house for refills. Lots of what he said seemed to be like B. J.'s reaction to me. But I couldn't figure out why he distrusted everything Vince said. So, when he returned with half-full glasses, I straight out asked him.
“Why do you always think Vince is lying?”
“My mother said so.” He sipped. “Not about Vince, not specifically. She correctly pointed out that it's a mistake for someone like me to go after someone like Vince. Someone out of my league. Her specific reference was to Feiga Borstein, who at a young age had pretty eyes and big boobs and was being chased and caught by every kid on the block. I think her mother had her fitted for a diaphragm when she was eight. Anyway, every guy in south Brooklyn who could get it up had his way with her, except me. I lacked that certain something, dear mother said, by which she meant sex appeal, a nice build, basic attractiveness; the only thing she admitted was that I was clean, for which she took credit.” He sipped.
“Your mother sounds like a bitch, if you don't mind my saying so.”
“Not really. She meant well. She felt being a realist was better than being a dreamer.”
“Was she good looking?”
“God, no.”
“I think you're nice looking, Paul.”
He looked at me. “Is this working out that I'm morose and you're horny?”
“Maybe ...”
“Racer, I've always been joking about us hookin' up. You're out of my league, too.”
“Maybe not ...”
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My, My ... Like FastOne, I'm not sure what to say ...
Racer seems to be loosing whatever inhibitions he may have had. And, that's even before the vodka.
Ah! To be Young, and exploring!
Definitely looking forward to More, and what/who might cum!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Racer seems to be loosing whatever inhibitions he may have had. And, that's even before the vodka.
Ah! To be Young, and exploring!
Definitely looking forward to More, and what/who might cum!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Hey, I say Racer and Paul deserve some loving and cuddlin', even if it isn't love - it's FWB's at the least.
And Tommy Lynne and his tips - and former associates, lol.
There's more than one way to have a merry Christmas season.
I do wonder about BJ, and what's going on in that thick skull of his, though...
And Tommy Lynne and his tips - and former associates, lol.
There's more than one way to have a merry Christmas season.
I do wonder about BJ, and what's going on in that thick skull of his, though...
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Hey, stars ... thanks, guys.
Some of us tend to forget to hit the rating - then we wake up one day!
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Eighteen - The Importance of Brakes
Paul was nice, very different from B. J., but exciting in his own way. B. J. made me feel great, whereas I think I made Paul feel great. I was totally unprepared for him coming so soon after we started fucking. It seemed like we barely got our clothes off before he was moaning. He knelt on all fours and said, “Start this way. Go easy on the lube. I like the friction.”
I did as he asked and had him moaning and then whimpering in no time. He kept sighing “Fuck me, fuck me,” so I did. All the way in, all the way out, slow, the way B. J. liked it.
“Harder,” so I did that. “Faster,” so I sped up my thrusts. “Aim down a little … Ahhh, shit! … Pound me!” so I slammed into him, making his ass bounce every time I hit bottom. It was a nice visual for me, seeing his cheeks quake. I was just starting to feel the heat myself, when he yelled, “Fuck!” and started spurting on the floor. His orgasm was fairly brief but wrenching. I popped out of him while he was thrashing and he asked me to put it back in, but he was moving too much and by the time he calmed down, it was too late.
“Whew! Racer! That was awesome!” He wiped his jizz off the floor with his underwear and lay down on his back. He wanted to cuddle, and pulled me into a kiss. The kiss, however, wasn't so great. I pulled back a little and looked at him. He wrapped his legs around me, the way B. J. used to, and I knew right where to aim. He winced when my cock re-entered him.
“You want more lube?”
“No, I just wasn't expecting it. Go ahead … finish what you started.”
I felt kind of selfish, pumping his ass while he himself was so uninvolved; it was like I was masturbating almost, so I slowed it down, hitting his ass hard but at a slow tempo, reminding myself I was fucking, not stroking – might as well make it feel the best for me. And it did. I was getting a little extra by fucking him so deep … that last inch or two really felt great, like he got tighter for me as I pushed in as far as I could. I reached for his cock to see if he was getting anything out of my effort and found it feeling full, not hard the way he was at first, but his dick was all pumped up. Again, it was a nice visual, watching my cock go in and out and my pubic bone mash into his nuts on the in stroke. I ran my thumb over his cock head and felt a new slick wetness.
“I'm gonna cum again, Racer ...”
“Do it!”
I pumped harder and we came almost together. It was a nice finish. I pulled out and lay next to him breathing hard. After a couple of minutes I raised up, leaning on my elbows, looking at a limp, almost lifeless Paul. “You ok?”
“B. J. Carteret is the biggest fool on the planet to walk away from you.”
“I'd say he doesn't agree with you.”
“Vince could make me cum twice when we first got together. Not lately, though.”
“You want to spend the night? The bed is more comfortable.”
“Yes, but I'm not going to. I'm gonna drag my busted ass home and see what the morning brings after spending the rest of the night alone.”
In fact I was glad Paul left. It let me think a little and sleep better when I was done thinking. I slept soundly knowing that sex could be pretty spectacular without B. J. being part of it. A very nice blowjob and a very nice fuck with two people I didn't love in the least. Ok, not true, I did love Paul for his intelligence and his humor and his sympathy, just not in a sexual way.
By the morning, life was resuming despite the snowfall. The plows had been around once and traffic was flowing, just not at its normal volumes. The TV news said the federal government had granted administrative leave to its employees; I swear they get half the winter off. So that took about a third of the traffic off the road. I called work and told them to bill Tommy Lynne for an inspection and a detailing; there was no damage to his car.
Next I called my mother and apologized for missing her birthday in November. “My birthday's in June, June 22nd,” she said. I asked her if it had always been in June, which kinda pissed her off, I think, which had been the plan. I glanced out and saw that Paul's truck was gone, so there wouldn't be any uncomfortable discussion of 'last night', for which I was grateful. And I got all this done by noon. Now what …
I walked through the snow to a bank office a couple blocks away and deposited Tommy Lynne's tip. I don't trust ATMs for deposits, only withdrawals; and I have a feeling this is a good approach to banks, especially mine, which tended to get pissy over minor matters. They would consider losing my deposit a minor matter for sure. On the way back I stopped in the Subway; yesterday's sandwich had tasted good.
“Hey, Dick, could you do a repeat of that great sandwich you made yesterday?”
“Hey, Racer. My name's not Dick. It actually is Jared.”
“Jared at Subway?” I chuckled.
“See?? … that's why I tell customers it's Dick.”
“I won't tell, Jared. And the sandwich you made really tasted great.” That got a smile from him.
“Thanks.”
“You aren't built like the other Jared, either.” That got a blush from him; and a redhead blushing is a lot of red in one place. He did have a hot build, trim in the waist and nice biceps that showed off when he sliced the bread.
“Uh … you don't mind my asking … why were you washing a car naked yesterday?”
“The car's a classic '57 Chevy. The owner doesn't want it scratched.”
“Still ...” Jared didn't quite see the justification.
“Plus a couple hundred dollar tip.”
“Oh yeah! I'd make sandwiches naked for a couple hundred,” Jared agreed.
“And you'd look good doing it, provided you trimmed your bush. Don't need any red hairs among the jalapeños,” I told him, setting off another massive blush.
“How'd you know?” he asked.
“Know what?”
“That I trim my bush.”
“Everybody does … it's just plain considerate to whoever you're fooling around with.”
The phone rang and he went to answer it. “Yeah … yeah … one customer all morning … he's here now … really? Ok ...” He came back to finish making my sandwich. “The owner said one sandwich won't pay to keep the lights on. She said to close up … Do you mind taking your sandwich to go?”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Go home, I guess.”
“Why don't you make two sandwiches and we can eat 'em at my place? I live right over there.”
I waited for him to shut down the store. He didn't have to put everything away because the owner was going to reopen at five. In short order we had the sandwiches unwrapped at my place and we were watching TV. Then I got a real surprise. B. J. was on, announcing a high school game. He game had been the week before, the show was a rerun. We watched and ate. At the end, B. J. signed off with, “Thanks for watching. Hope you enjoyed the show, Racer.” The other announcer asked him what that was about and he said, “Racer is a really important friend. He convinced me I could do sports announcing.”
“Is he talking about you?” Jared asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “He used to live here.”
“Awesome! He was your roommate?” Jared asked excitedly.
“He was my boy friend, I thought ...” I answered honestly.
Jared's eyes widened. “Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah. For a while. If that bothers you, don't worry. I'm not gonna try anything.”
Jared thought this over for a bit and took a deep breath. He turned to me and looked me in the eyes and said, “You can, if you want, um, try anything, if you want.”
Jared had a redhead's body, pale white skin covered with reddish freckles everywhere except on the head of his cock and his balls. He was trim and solid, with a handsome cock that arched up over his neatly trimmed red pubes. His pubes were about the same length as the hair on his head, which somehow really turned me on. I pretended I knew what I was doing and gave the first blowjob of my life. Jared turned it into a slurpy, sexy sixty-nine. He was more experienced than I was, but seemed to like what I was doing.
“Racer, I was lusting after you the minute you walked into the store yesterday. I never thought anything like this would actually happen. This is amazing!” He had a very cute smile and I told him so.
“You should smile more. You have a great smile.”
He blushed again. He also had a seriously nice cock. I felt its heft in my hand and stroked gently. He was appreciative. “I like what were're doing, but if there's anything else you like … say so, Racer.”
“I like fucking.”
He took another deep breath. “I've never done that, but I should probably learn, huh?”
He had a hard time taking me, but he wouldn't let me stop. He insisted. There were tears in his eyes as he insisted, “Keep fuckin' me!” It was a sweet fuck and an easy, comfortable afterward when I jacked him off. He didn't say much, just kept snuggling against me, pressing his body into mine like he didn't want it to end. It was a great afternoon, an unexpected delight, including good food. Jared is a super sweet kid. Just one thing made me think twice. He didn't want to go home.
“Can I stay tonight? … Here? With you?” he added in case I didn't get his question. He got very affectionate again, when I said ok. In fact, he went non-stop all afternoon. Not with orgasms, nobody could do that; but almost. We just spent the whole day naked, kissing and sucking, almost cumming, teasing, joking, watching the tube, more sucking, and sometimes just relaxing.
I have to say that Jared when naked is real fine to look at, breath-taking really. He's built like an athlete who doesn't go to the gym. Muscular, but slim, no fat, just a nice sturdiness to his thighs and a roundness to his butt; and his dick fits the picture perfectly. It's just the right size and maybe a little thicker than you'd expect when he gets hard, perfect for holding, perfect for sucking. Plain old perfect.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Twenty-three,” he answered, which was three, four, or maybe even five years older than I expected to hear.
“I'm almost twenty,” I told him. “I figured you were closer to my age.”
“You look older. I figured you were my age. You act older, too,” he said. “I mean that in a good way.” His cock was hard again and he traced his finger along the length of mine causing a stirring. “I'm glad you fucked me, Racer.” He looked at me with a serious expression and I noticed how green his eyes were. I wanted to kiss him, but I held back and just looked in his eyes. The seriousness went away and his eyes twinkled when he smiled, “What?”
The knowledge came over me suddenly, burst into my head fully formed, not a question in my mind, that I wanted him to fuck me and I had no idea how to tell him. I pulled him against me and nuzzled the warmth of his neck; he got the idea. I didn't have to tell him anything.
Paul was nice, very different from B. J., but exciting in his own way. B. J. made me feel great, whereas I think I made Paul feel great. I was totally unprepared for him coming so soon after we started fucking. It seemed like we barely got our clothes off before he was moaning. He knelt on all fours and said, “Start this way. Go easy on the lube. I like the friction.”
I did as he asked and had him moaning and then whimpering in no time. He kept sighing “Fuck me, fuck me,” so I did. All the way in, all the way out, slow, the way B. J. liked it.
“Harder,” so I did that. “Faster,” so I sped up my thrusts. “Aim down a little … Ahhh, shit! … Pound me!” so I slammed into him, making his ass bounce every time I hit bottom. It was a nice visual for me, seeing his cheeks quake. I was just starting to feel the heat myself, when he yelled, “Fuck!” and started spurting on the floor. His orgasm was fairly brief but wrenching. I popped out of him while he was thrashing and he asked me to put it back in, but he was moving too much and by the time he calmed down, it was too late.
“Whew! Racer! That was awesome!” He wiped his jizz off the floor with his underwear and lay down on his back. He wanted to cuddle, and pulled me into a kiss. The kiss, however, wasn't so great. I pulled back a little and looked at him. He wrapped his legs around me, the way B. J. used to, and I knew right where to aim. He winced when my cock re-entered him.
“You want more lube?”
“No, I just wasn't expecting it. Go ahead … finish what you started.”
I felt kind of selfish, pumping his ass while he himself was so uninvolved; it was like I was masturbating almost, so I slowed it down, hitting his ass hard but at a slow tempo, reminding myself I was fucking, not stroking – might as well make it feel the best for me. And it did. I was getting a little extra by fucking him so deep … that last inch or two really felt great, like he got tighter for me as I pushed in as far as I could. I reached for his cock to see if he was getting anything out of my effort and found it feeling full, not hard the way he was at first, but his dick was all pumped up. Again, it was a nice visual, watching my cock go in and out and my pubic bone mash into his nuts on the in stroke. I ran my thumb over his cock head and felt a new slick wetness.
“I'm gonna cum again, Racer ...”
“Do it!”
I pumped harder and we came almost together. It was a nice finish. I pulled out and lay next to him breathing hard. After a couple of minutes I raised up, leaning on my elbows, looking at a limp, almost lifeless Paul. “You ok?”
“B. J. Carteret is the biggest fool on the planet to walk away from you.”
“I'd say he doesn't agree with you.”
“Vince could make me cum twice when we first got together. Not lately, though.”
“You want to spend the night? The bed is more comfortable.”
“Yes, but I'm not going to. I'm gonna drag my busted ass home and see what the morning brings after spending the rest of the night alone.”
In fact I was glad Paul left. It let me think a little and sleep better when I was done thinking. I slept soundly knowing that sex could be pretty spectacular without B. J. being part of it. A very nice blowjob and a very nice fuck with two people I didn't love in the least. Ok, not true, I did love Paul for his intelligence and his humor and his sympathy, just not in a sexual way.
By the morning, life was resuming despite the snowfall. The plows had been around once and traffic was flowing, just not at its normal volumes. The TV news said the federal government had granted administrative leave to its employees; I swear they get half the winter off. So that took about a third of the traffic off the road. I called work and told them to bill Tommy Lynne for an inspection and a detailing; there was no damage to his car.
Next I called my mother and apologized for missing her birthday in November. “My birthday's in June, June 22nd,” she said. I asked her if it had always been in June, which kinda pissed her off, I think, which had been the plan. I glanced out and saw that Paul's truck was gone, so there wouldn't be any uncomfortable discussion of 'last night', for which I was grateful. And I got all this done by noon. Now what …
I walked through the snow to a bank office a couple blocks away and deposited Tommy Lynne's tip. I don't trust ATMs for deposits, only withdrawals; and I have a feeling this is a good approach to banks, especially mine, which tended to get pissy over minor matters. They would consider losing my deposit a minor matter for sure. On the way back I stopped in the Subway; yesterday's sandwich had tasted good.
“Hey, Dick, could you do a repeat of that great sandwich you made yesterday?”
“Hey, Racer. My name's not Dick. It actually is Jared.”
“Jared at Subway?” I chuckled.
“See?? … that's why I tell customers it's Dick.”
“I won't tell, Jared. And the sandwich you made really tasted great.” That got a smile from him.
“Thanks.”
“You aren't built like the other Jared, either.” That got a blush from him; and a redhead blushing is a lot of red in one place. He did have a hot build, trim in the waist and nice biceps that showed off when he sliced the bread.
“Uh … you don't mind my asking … why were you washing a car naked yesterday?”
“The car's a classic '57 Chevy. The owner doesn't want it scratched.”
“Still ...” Jared didn't quite see the justification.
“Plus a couple hundred dollar tip.”
“Oh yeah! I'd make sandwiches naked for a couple hundred,” Jared agreed.
“And you'd look good doing it, provided you trimmed your bush. Don't need any red hairs among the jalapeños,” I told him, setting off another massive blush.
“How'd you know?” he asked.
“Know what?”
“That I trim my bush.”
“Everybody does … it's just plain considerate to whoever you're fooling around with.”
The phone rang and he went to answer it. “Yeah … yeah … one customer all morning … he's here now … really? Ok ...” He came back to finish making my sandwich. “The owner said one sandwich won't pay to keep the lights on. She said to close up … Do you mind taking your sandwich to go?”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Go home, I guess.”
“Why don't you make two sandwiches and we can eat 'em at my place? I live right over there.”
I waited for him to shut down the store. He didn't have to put everything away because the owner was going to reopen at five. In short order we had the sandwiches unwrapped at my place and we were watching TV. Then I got a real surprise. B. J. was on, announcing a high school game. He game had been the week before, the show was a rerun. We watched and ate. At the end, B. J. signed off with, “Thanks for watching. Hope you enjoyed the show, Racer.” The other announcer asked him what that was about and he said, “Racer is a really important friend. He convinced me I could do sports announcing.”
“Is he talking about you?” Jared asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “He used to live here.”
“Awesome! He was your roommate?” Jared asked excitedly.
“He was my boy friend, I thought ...” I answered honestly.
Jared's eyes widened. “Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah. For a while. If that bothers you, don't worry. I'm not gonna try anything.”
Jared thought this over for a bit and took a deep breath. He turned to me and looked me in the eyes and said, “You can, if you want, um, try anything, if you want.”
Jared had a redhead's body, pale white skin covered with reddish freckles everywhere except on the head of his cock and his balls. He was trim and solid, with a handsome cock that arched up over his neatly trimmed red pubes. His pubes were about the same length as the hair on his head, which somehow really turned me on. I pretended I knew what I was doing and gave the first blowjob of my life. Jared turned it into a slurpy, sexy sixty-nine. He was more experienced than I was, but seemed to like what I was doing.
“Racer, I was lusting after you the minute you walked into the store yesterday. I never thought anything like this would actually happen. This is amazing!” He had a very cute smile and I told him so.
“You should smile more. You have a great smile.”
He blushed again. He also had a seriously nice cock. I felt its heft in my hand and stroked gently. He was appreciative. “I like what were're doing, but if there's anything else you like … say so, Racer.”
“I like fucking.”
He took another deep breath. “I've never done that, but I should probably learn, huh?”
He had a hard time taking me, but he wouldn't let me stop. He insisted. There were tears in his eyes as he insisted, “Keep fuckin' me!” It was a sweet fuck and an easy, comfortable afterward when I jacked him off. He didn't say much, just kept snuggling against me, pressing his body into mine like he didn't want it to end. It was a great afternoon, an unexpected delight, including good food. Jared is a super sweet kid. Just one thing made me think twice. He didn't want to go home.
“Can I stay tonight? … Here? With you?” he added in case I didn't get his question. He got very affectionate again, when I said ok. In fact, he went non-stop all afternoon. Not with orgasms, nobody could do that; but almost. We just spent the whole day naked, kissing and sucking, almost cumming, teasing, joking, watching the tube, more sucking, and sometimes just relaxing.
I have to say that Jared when naked is real fine to look at, breath-taking really. He's built like an athlete who doesn't go to the gym. Muscular, but slim, no fat, just a nice sturdiness to his thighs and a roundness to his butt; and his dick fits the picture perfectly. It's just the right size and maybe a little thicker than you'd expect when he gets hard, perfect for holding, perfect for sucking. Plain old perfect.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Twenty-three,” he answered, which was three, four, or maybe even five years older than I expected to hear.
“I'm almost twenty,” I told him. “I figured you were closer to my age.”
“You look older. I figured you were my age. You act older, too,” he said. “I mean that in a good way.” His cock was hard again and he traced his finger along the length of mine causing a stirring. “I'm glad you fucked me, Racer.” He looked at me with a serious expression and I noticed how green his eyes were. I wanted to kiss him, but I held back and just looked in his eyes. The seriousness went away and his eyes twinkled when he smiled, “What?”
The knowledge came over me suddenly, burst into my head fully formed, not a question in my mind, that I wanted him to fuck me and I had no idea how to tell him. I pulled him against me and nuzzled the warmth of his neck; he got the idea. I didn't have to tell him anything.
Rory,
A great afternoon delight (with the gone but still loves you from BJ as a plus) for Racer and Jared - and a wonderful morning delight for me as I get ready to head to work.
The drive might be a bit uncomfortable now, but the glow is great.
Keep up your great tale as you keep us UP!
A great afternoon delight (with the gone but still loves you from BJ as a plus) for Racer and Jared - and a wonderful morning delight for me as I get ready to head to work.
The drive might be a bit uncomfortable now, but the glow is great.
Keep up your great tale as you keep us UP!
Craiger
JUB Addict
Racer's doing fine. I wonder if BJ is getting as much as Racer?? Paul finally fulfilled his dream and now Jared has tasted the fruit. I hope Racer is happy... Thanks, Rory, for a delightfully sexy and erotic chapter.
Craiger
Craiger
Another classic Rory line. Sorry Rory, I was moving the last couple of weeks and didn't get a chance to stay up with the story. Fantastic writing as always. I finally caught up. B.J. is crazy, but Racer has really grown and has a certain easiness with everyone - taking life as it comes and having fun with it. The story is really enjoyable. I hope we get to find out what B.J.'s brother's initials stand for somewhere down the line. You always leave teasers along the way. Keep up the incredible work. We all enjoy it so much.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Nineteen - Traction
“Racer, I can't believe it's been three weeks.” He was coming in hard for a hug.
“That was your doing, B. J.” I avoided his arms and picked up two bags of groceries from the bed of the truck.
“Let me help.” It was nice of him to offer.
“I got it. It's mostly soap and stuff.”
“At least I can get the door.” He fished in his pocket for the key and opened the door for me.
I walked into the kitchen, put the bags down, and started putting away my purchases. The cereal box got B. J.'s attention. “Granola, huh? You got to like my mom's stuff?”
“It's Jared's. He likes it.”
“Jared? Who the fuck is Jared?”
“He works near by stays here four nights a week. It saves him commuting to Arlington. He pays half the rent, which is pretty nice of him since he stays here only half the time. Maybe I should reduce it to a quarter of the rent.”
“Wait … if he stays only half the time, isn't half the rent right?”
“No. Half would be right if he stayed all the time.” B. J. still looked puzzled. “Think about it, Beej.”
B.J. got two glasses out of the cupboard and poured out his usual. “Let's sit on the porch, ok? I want to talk. I want to explain, if I can.”
“Sure. Let's do that.” I put my coat and stocking cap back on and settled myself on the porch, taking all the blanket for myself. Kind of a petty gesture, but I had a feeling the “talk” was going to get me pissed off. I took off one glove when B. J. handed me a glass.
“Can we share the blanket?” he asked.
“It's cold here alone,” I said, but relented and shared it with him. He kissed my cheek, which I ignored.
“Don't be pissed, Racer. Let me explain.” He put his glass down and tried to slip his hand between the buttons of my coat, a maneuver he had been good at; this time he couldn't find the opening between the buttons.
“Different coat,” I explained.
“No, it isn't,” he said. He found the gap and rested his hand on my chest. He tried to kiss me again. I kind of resisted but just as he was about to give up, I turned his face to me and kissed him. I made a sloppy job of it and spilled some vodka on us. He didn't mind.
“I missed you,” B. J. said and resumed the kiss.
“You didn't have to. You have a key. You could have come in any time.”
“Please, don't make this hard.” He kissed me again. “Do you still love me?”
“Of course, I do. It's only been three weeks. Why did you leave?”
“ 'Cause I'm fucked up? 'Cause I'm afraid of my father and my asshole brothers? Both, I guess. I knew I was wrong to leave before my truck was even out of the parking lot. I love you, Racer. It's the most powerful feeling I've ever known. You are the biggest force in my life.” He forced my hand onto his erection.
“Why did you pick today to come back?”
“You are NOT making this easy, are you? I figured I'd say I'm sorry and you'd fuck me a couple of times and we'd go back to the way things were.”
“Why did you pick today to come back?”
“Because … I was in the area and I wanted to. I didn't want to be away from you any more … ” He looked at the phone on the kitchen table as it burbled. “Wait. I got a voice mail.” He pressed it a couple of times and waited.
“B.J., I think that's my pho ...”
He held up his hands to silence me and we both listened.
“Hey, Racer, it's Jared. I got two more hours to go 'til this shift is over and I can't wait to see you. You know what? I think I sold your old boy friend a sandwich … which got me thinking about what an idiot he is! I'm the one who's gonna be fuckin' in a couple of hours? You? Me? Take turns? Wait. The last time we took turns I got fucked twice. Ha-ha …”
“Ha-ha,” B. J. mimicked mirthlessly, putting the phone down. “Jared is the guy with red hair at Subway?” I nodded. “It's only three weeks and your messing around with somebody?”
“He's not the only one,” I told him honestly.
“You've been with TWO people in the last three weeks.”
“Well, counting you, it would be four people. Does including you count?”
“I guess I don't count for much.” He didn't bother putting his coat on, he just put it over his arm and left.
“Do you want to take this vodka bottle? It's unopened,” I called after him.
“Fuck you!” he said. It sounded like he was almost crying.
“B. J. ...” I called after him; but he never turned back. He just kept walking.
Should I have lied about fucking Paul and getting a blow job from Tommy Lynne? B. J. might never find out about Tommy Lynne, but I was pretty sure he'd find out about Paul. And what about Jared? After that voice mail, there was nothing I could have done about Jared, but maybe messing with only one person would be better than three or four. How are you supposed to count anyway? Was there an accepted period of chastity that comes after somebody walks out? Some rule I didn't know about? It would have been nice to talk to Paul, even if he was involved. With his no-bullshit policy, he would have been absolutely the right guy to talk to.
It occurred to me that I wasn't as broken up by B. J.'s sudden departure as I had been three weeks ago. Yes, it hurt. I definitely felt an ache, an absence. But I didn't feel like crying or walking out and never looking back. Plus, he could have given me the key back. Maybe if I hadn't had the vodka, I'd have been more … more what? I felt like I should be way more upset than I was.
It was a good time to read more about Ivan Ilych. Now there was a couple with problems complete with hysterics and throwing things. I felt kind of like Ivan, a little detached and surprised by heated argument, with B. J. playing the volatile and dramatic Praskovya Fedorovna, who had little reason for all her complains. But that was ridiculous. There was nothing effeminate about B. J. I laughed to myself thinking of B. J. as the wronged woman in the couple. With the combination of a glass of vodka on an empty stomach and slightly ponderous Russian prose, I think I kinda dozed a little.
“Racer!” was Jared's enthusiastic greeting. I sprang awake and sat up on the sofa. “Did you get my voice mail?” He took his coat off as I stood up. “Can I grab you and throw you back down on the couch?” He grabbed me and probably could have done it. “Or should I just stand here and make love upright?” He ground his pelvis against me.
“I always forget your bigger than me,” I looked up and told him.
“That's 'cause I'm submissive. I want to do what you want. Saying yes is what I do best! So how 'bout if I fuck you?” His smile made me laugh and kiss him. His hands squeezing my butt made me say yes. “Floor, couch, or bed?” was all he wanted to know. His hands were already in my pants.
“You smell like marinara sauce,” I told him.
“Made up a batch of meatballs right before I got off work.” He carried me into the bedroom. “You want me to take a shower?”
“I like marinara sauce.” I inhaled deeply and kissed his neck. I could feel his honest urgency. “Saying 'yes' is not what you do best. Getting hard is what you do best.”
He covered me with kisses and licks and touches and somewhere in the middle of it he penetrated me. His cock felt perfect. His thrusts were smooth and tender and steady. For a while. Then he got ragged and trembly and came with a couple of deep thrusts.
“Racer ...” he sighed as he relaxed. “You know … I tell myself not to get too far into this, just enjoy the sex and keep it light 'cause you want it casual, but then I come here and find you asleep with a Russian novelist's book on your chest. You keep showing me another layer, and I know there's so much more to you. And … it's REAL HARD keeping things light. It's awesomely HARD not to want more.” He kissed me enough to remind me I hadn't come. “Fuck me,” he said.
“You don't like getting fucked after you come,” I reminded him.
“No, that's you. I don't mind at all, if you're the one doin' it.” He kissed me and lightly bit my lower lip. “Do it hard if you want. I like it hard.”
I fucked him hard, all the while pretending it was B. J. B. J., who would seriously benefit from getting his brains fucked out. Jared, however, wasn't at all like B. J. Jared loved taking my dick as much as he loved fuckin' me. He was here, hard, and willing; that was as complicated as Jared ever got. He was totally into every kind of sex we tried; and sex was much better with Jared. I just wished I could get as emotional as he does about it. Loving Jared would be spectacular; but so far, it's not happening.
Later that night, back in bed, I listened to his steady breathing and knew he was asleep. Trying not to disturb him, I touched his cock and felt it harden. Based on some kind of instinct, he kissed my shoulder without waking up. He is like a pet dog; he's intelligent, fit, handsome, trusting, reliable, and I think he more or less told me he loves me. I carefully and gently jacked his cock, enjoying the feel of it.
I felt his mouth on my shoulder again. “You want to fuck me?” he whispered.
“Oh, sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep, Jared.” He pulled my head to his and kissed me. He was willing; it was up to me. “Go to sleep, Jared.” I didn't need more sex right then; it was nice just lying with him, feeling his naked body next to mine. Soon I listened again to his regular, steady breathing. I wondered if his cock was still hard, but I didn't try to find out. I kissed him as lightly as I possible could, determined not to wake him. His mouth was warm and a little wet. I couldn't help myself and pressed a tiny bit harder.
He giggled. “You can't stop and I don't want you to. One of us is getting fucked. I'm trying to be gentlemanly here, but make up your mind.”
I think he could have gone back to sleep, but fucking him got him wide awake and a little dissatisfied. He wanted more, but he was being polite.
“You don't like taking it after you come,” he said.
“It's time I learned,” I told him. I really do like his cock.
“Racer, I can't believe it's been three weeks.” He was coming in hard for a hug.
“That was your doing, B. J.” I avoided his arms and picked up two bags of groceries from the bed of the truck.
“Let me help.” It was nice of him to offer.
“I got it. It's mostly soap and stuff.”
“At least I can get the door.” He fished in his pocket for the key and opened the door for me.
I walked into the kitchen, put the bags down, and started putting away my purchases. The cereal box got B. J.'s attention. “Granola, huh? You got to like my mom's stuff?”
“It's Jared's. He likes it.”
“Jared? Who the fuck is Jared?”
“He works near by stays here four nights a week. It saves him commuting to Arlington. He pays half the rent, which is pretty nice of him since he stays here only half the time. Maybe I should reduce it to a quarter of the rent.”
“Wait … if he stays only half the time, isn't half the rent right?”
“No. Half would be right if he stayed all the time.” B. J. still looked puzzled. “Think about it, Beej.”
B.J. got two glasses out of the cupboard and poured out his usual. “Let's sit on the porch, ok? I want to talk. I want to explain, if I can.”
“Sure. Let's do that.” I put my coat and stocking cap back on and settled myself on the porch, taking all the blanket for myself. Kind of a petty gesture, but I had a feeling the “talk” was going to get me pissed off. I took off one glove when B. J. handed me a glass.
“Can we share the blanket?” he asked.
“It's cold here alone,” I said, but relented and shared it with him. He kissed my cheek, which I ignored.
“Don't be pissed, Racer. Let me explain.” He put his glass down and tried to slip his hand between the buttons of my coat, a maneuver he had been good at; this time he couldn't find the opening between the buttons.
“Different coat,” I explained.
“No, it isn't,” he said. He found the gap and rested his hand on my chest. He tried to kiss me again. I kind of resisted but just as he was about to give up, I turned his face to me and kissed him. I made a sloppy job of it and spilled some vodka on us. He didn't mind.
“I missed you,” B. J. said and resumed the kiss.
“You didn't have to. You have a key. You could have come in any time.”
“Please, don't make this hard.” He kissed me again. “Do you still love me?”
“Of course, I do. It's only been three weeks. Why did you leave?”
“ 'Cause I'm fucked up? 'Cause I'm afraid of my father and my asshole brothers? Both, I guess. I knew I was wrong to leave before my truck was even out of the parking lot. I love you, Racer. It's the most powerful feeling I've ever known. You are the biggest force in my life.” He forced my hand onto his erection.
“Why did you pick today to come back?”
“You are NOT making this easy, are you? I figured I'd say I'm sorry and you'd fuck me a couple of times and we'd go back to the way things were.”
“Why did you pick today to come back?”
“Because … I was in the area and I wanted to. I didn't want to be away from you any more … ” He looked at the phone on the kitchen table as it burbled. “Wait. I got a voice mail.” He pressed it a couple of times and waited.
“B.J., I think that's my pho ...”
He held up his hands to silence me and we both listened.
“Hey, Racer, it's Jared. I got two more hours to go 'til this shift is over and I can't wait to see you. You know what? I think I sold your old boy friend a sandwich … which got me thinking about what an idiot he is! I'm the one who's gonna be fuckin' in a couple of hours? You? Me? Take turns? Wait. The last time we took turns I got fucked twice. Ha-ha …”
“Ha-ha,” B. J. mimicked mirthlessly, putting the phone down. “Jared is the guy with red hair at Subway?” I nodded. “It's only three weeks and your messing around with somebody?”
“He's not the only one,” I told him honestly.
“You've been with TWO people in the last three weeks.”
“Well, counting you, it would be four people. Does including you count?”
“I guess I don't count for much.” He didn't bother putting his coat on, he just put it over his arm and left.
“Do you want to take this vodka bottle? It's unopened,” I called after him.
“Fuck you!” he said. It sounded like he was almost crying.
“B. J. ...” I called after him; but he never turned back. He just kept walking.
Should I have lied about fucking Paul and getting a blow job from Tommy Lynne? B. J. might never find out about Tommy Lynne, but I was pretty sure he'd find out about Paul. And what about Jared? After that voice mail, there was nothing I could have done about Jared, but maybe messing with only one person would be better than three or four. How are you supposed to count anyway? Was there an accepted period of chastity that comes after somebody walks out? Some rule I didn't know about? It would have been nice to talk to Paul, even if he was involved. With his no-bullshit policy, he would have been absolutely the right guy to talk to.
It occurred to me that I wasn't as broken up by B. J.'s sudden departure as I had been three weeks ago. Yes, it hurt. I definitely felt an ache, an absence. But I didn't feel like crying or walking out and never looking back. Plus, he could have given me the key back. Maybe if I hadn't had the vodka, I'd have been more … more what? I felt like I should be way more upset than I was.
It was a good time to read more about Ivan Ilych. Now there was a couple with problems complete with hysterics and throwing things. I felt kind of like Ivan, a little detached and surprised by heated argument, with B. J. playing the volatile and dramatic Praskovya Fedorovna, who had little reason for all her complains. But that was ridiculous. There was nothing effeminate about B. J. I laughed to myself thinking of B. J. as the wronged woman in the couple. With the combination of a glass of vodka on an empty stomach and slightly ponderous Russian prose, I think I kinda dozed a little.
“Racer!” was Jared's enthusiastic greeting. I sprang awake and sat up on the sofa. “Did you get my voice mail?” He took his coat off as I stood up. “Can I grab you and throw you back down on the couch?” He grabbed me and probably could have done it. “Or should I just stand here and make love upright?” He ground his pelvis against me.
“I always forget your bigger than me,” I looked up and told him.
“That's 'cause I'm submissive. I want to do what you want. Saying yes is what I do best! So how 'bout if I fuck you?” His smile made me laugh and kiss him. His hands squeezing my butt made me say yes. “Floor, couch, or bed?” was all he wanted to know. His hands were already in my pants.
“You smell like marinara sauce,” I told him.
“Made up a batch of meatballs right before I got off work.” He carried me into the bedroom. “You want me to take a shower?”
“I like marinara sauce.” I inhaled deeply and kissed his neck. I could feel his honest urgency. “Saying 'yes' is not what you do best. Getting hard is what you do best.”
He covered me with kisses and licks and touches and somewhere in the middle of it he penetrated me. His cock felt perfect. His thrusts were smooth and tender and steady. For a while. Then he got ragged and trembly and came with a couple of deep thrusts.
“Racer ...” he sighed as he relaxed. “You know … I tell myself not to get too far into this, just enjoy the sex and keep it light 'cause you want it casual, but then I come here and find you asleep with a Russian novelist's book on your chest. You keep showing me another layer, and I know there's so much more to you. And … it's REAL HARD keeping things light. It's awesomely HARD not to want more.” He kissed me enough to remind me I hadn't come. “Fuck me,” he said.
“You don't like getting fucked after you come,” I reminded him.
“No, that's you. I don't mind at all, if you're the one doin' it.” He kissed me and lightly bit my lower lip. “Do it hard if you want. I like it hard.”
I fucked him hard, all the while pretending it was B. J. B. J., who would seriously benefit from getting his brains fucked out. Jared, however, wasn't at all like B. J. Jared loved taking my dick as much as he loved fuckin' me. He was here, hard, and willing; that was as complicated as Jared ever got. He was totally into every kind of sex we tried; and sex was much better with Jared. I just wished I could get as emotional as he does about it. Loving Jared would be spectacular; but so far, it's not happening.
Later that night, back in bed, I listened to his steady breathing and knew he was asleep. Trying not to disturb him, I touched his cock and felt it harden. Based on some kind of instinct, he kissed my shoulder without waking up. He is like a pet dog; he's intelligent, fit, handsome, trusting, reliable, and I think he more or less told me he loves me. I carefully and gently jacked his cock, enjoying the feel of it.
I felt his mouth on my shoulder again. “You want to fuck me?” he whispered.
“Oh, sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep, Jared.” He pulled my head to his and kissed me. He was willing; it was up to me. “Go to sleep, Jared.” I didn't need more sex right then; it was nice just lying with him, feeling his naked body next to mine. Soon I listened again to his regular, steady breathing. I wondered if his cock was still hard, but I didn't try to find out. I kissed him as lightly as I possible could, determined not to wake him. His mouth was warm and a little wet. I couldn't help myself and pressed a tiny bit harder.
He giggled. “You can't stop and I don't want you to. One of us is getting fucked. I'm trying to be gentlemanly here, but make up your mind.”
I think he could have gone back to sleep, but fucking him got him wide awake and a little dissatisfied. He wanted more, but he was being polite.
“You don't like taking it after you come,” he said.
“It's time I learned,” I told him. I really do like his cock.
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Oh, my! I'm liking Jared ... a LOT!
Interesting how your story has taken on some parallels to situations that I find myself currently facing. I'll not bore you with the details.
B.J. thoroughly fucked up, for whatever reasons. And, the fact that he left again has maybe sealed his fate, as far as Racer goes. Then again, maybe not. We'll have to wait to see what direction you might go with that.
I can understand Racer's reluctance to "let go", even though it sounds like it's what he should probably do. Emotions have a way of clouding things. I'm hoping it doesn't overwhelm what he has going with Jared, who, from what you've just told us, seems like a "perfect" match, at least sexually. Of course, there are more considerations than just wonderfully getting off with each other.
Eagerly awaiting for MORE, and finding out how this all might go, for everyone concerned.
THANK YOU!, Buddy, for this "5 Star" story!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Interesting how your story has taken on some parallels to situations that I find myself currently facing. I'll not bore you with the details.
B.J. thoroughly fucked up, for whatever reasons. And, the fact that he left again has maybe sealed his fate, as far as Racer goes. Then again, maybe not. We'll have to wait to see what direction you might go with that.
I can understand Racer's reluctance to "let go", even though it sounds like it's what he should probably do. Emotions have a way of clouding things. I'm hoping it doesn't overwhelm what he has going with Jared, who, from what you've just told us, seems like a "perfect" match, at least sexually. Of course, there are more considerations than just wonderfully getting off with each other.
Eagerly awaiting for MORE, and finding out how this all might go, for everyone concerned.
THANK YOU!, Buddy, for this "5 Star" story!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Rory,
Captivating as ever. BJ definitely has issues - and he's not overly deep, though he was getting better. Otherwise, he might understand that FOUR guys in three weeks is sort of a cry for attention from the one he really loved.
BUTT, as I said, BJ isn't overly deep - he is pissed because the guy HE dumped tried to get on with his life without him. And, as we all know, that's just not permitted. It's OK for the dumper to go out and get a new life, but the dumped is supposed to go into chaste mourning, waiting for the day the dumper deigns doing the deed with them again.
I know that's rough, and probably not completely fair, but it's probably fairly accurate.
You got our attention, at any rate - mission accomplished.
Now on to the next course . . .
Captivating as ever. BJ definitely has issues - and he's not overly deep, though he was getting better. Otherwise, he might understand that FOUR guys in three weeks is sort of a cry for attention from the one he really loved.
BUTT, as I said, BJ isn't overly deep - he is pissed because the guy HE dumped tried to get on with his life without him. And, as we all know, that's just not permitted. It's OK for the dumper to go out and get a new life, but the dumped is supposed to go into chaste mourning, waiting for the day the dumper deigns doing the deed with them again.
I know that's rough, and probably not completely fair, but it's probably fairly accurate.
You got our attention, at any rate - mission accomplished.
Now on to the next course . . .
Craiger
JUB Addict
I think Chaz and Don have summed it up well. All I can say is it is remarkable how calm Racer can be. Even though there are hurts and disappointments, he seems to find a logical way of looking them. I envy him for that. Thanks, Rory.
Craiger
Craiger
