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Speedway
- Thread starter EasyRory
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EasyRory
JUB Addict
And, "travesty". I was not aware of that, butt it makes sense. Surprising what you can learn in unexpected places. Thank You!
Italian verb 'travestire': literally, to cross-dress. A 'travesty' was a farce or burlesque in which the women were played by men.
My head is spinning. I am getting one hell of an education as well as reading a fantastically hot story which I haven't got any clue where it is going or what it will all mean when it is over. I just love it all too much to see it ever end. Keep it cumming, Rory. You have one wild vivid imagination that we all love.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Fifty-Three - Pictures in my Mind
One dependable thing about cheap motels is the curtains never work very well. My room had basic polyester curtains at the window doubled by a heavy plastic-coated canvas liner. Despite pulling them closed carefully the morning light seeped in, in the middle, where they didn't quite meet, and on the sides where their light barrier didn't quite touch the wall. At six A.M. the room was pretty well-lighted.
Well lighted enough that I could see the defined muscles in his back. The blanket was around his waist, giving me a good view of what hard work can do for the male figure. My high school biology book could have used him for a model.
I lay admiring the view before me and waking up slowly. A door a few room away slammed and the sound disturbed him. He shifted in the bed, extending a leg. That small action changed everything. The blanket shifted just a couple of inches lower and lay diagonally across his ass displaying a bit more skin. What an important bit, though. The view changed instantly from clinical to erotic. Soft pale skin that wanted touching. A light dusting of fuzzy hair that wanted stroking. A darker cleft, more mysterious, that wanted exploring. Sexual alarms went off in my head. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to pry those cheeks apart with my dick. There wasn't a noble feeling in my head, no love, no caring. I wanted to fuck him. The door slammed again and he shifted more drastically this time. He rolled over.
His cock was beautiful and almost hard. Not rigid, but all stretched out, fully tumescent. A murkiness surrounded it, a blur of pubic hair that made me think of airy cotton candy. I heard him sigh, waking up. His hand scratched his chest absentmindedly and then slid down. His spread fingers worked like a comb through his pubic hair and then closed gently around his cock, giving it a tentative stroke or two. A responsive surge filled his hand. I almost laughed out loud; I could totally believe he was debating whether to jack off or not. One hand played with his balls, the other stroked slowly and his now-rigid shaft.
The turmoil I imagined in his mind was matched in my own. I wanted to suck his cock and I don't think I ever had before. Of course I sucked B. J. a bunch, but that was part of fucking, part of a total act. I never really wanted just to taste his cock, to lick the head and see if I could taste his fluids and feel the sponginess of the crown, to take it down my throat and feel him pulse in me, to hold the shaft in my hand and slurp on it like a popsicle.
Suddenly he made his decision. No jacking off! He swung his feet to the floor and stood. Now he was closer, his dick was bobbing in front of me, little jerks with every beat of his heart. I could reach out and touch him, pull him closer, pull him into my bed. Why is he just standing there, stock still? Is he watching me? Can he tell I'm watching him? The light was from behind me; my face must have been shadowed. Maybe he's tempted too.
And then the moment ended. He half-turned, bent, and picked up his clothes. He walked silently into the bathroom. I heard the splash of piss in the toilet, a flush, the running of water in the basin, followed by silence. Shortly he emerged from the bathroom and left, closing the door quietly.
“Todd?” I heard Latham call out as he entered the room next door. “You here Todd?” And then silence. No Todd? Passed out Todd? I couldn't tell.
I don't know if there's really such a thing as blue balls, but mine ached as I got into the shower. I was half done in the bathroom before my dick went down. I dressed and went for breakfast in the restaurant adjoining the motel. I wondered if Latham would be there. Of course I'd sit with him, but what would I say? I want to fuck you? At six in the morning? Hell, yes, I'd do it; but it that the kind of thing you say first thing in the morning? I relaxed when I saw it was just me and a couple truck drivers eating early. I want to suck you and fuck you, Latham, I thought to myself.
“What, hon?” the waitress asked. I must have been talking out loud.
“Uh … I'd love some coffee.” She smiled showing she knew that wasn't what I had said.
I didn't see him until later in the morning. He was wearing the team coveralls, covered with advertising patches. He looked totally different to me today. Coveralls are usually not the sexiest garment in anybody's closet, but now I knew what this pair were covering. I knew exactly why they pulled tight across his ass when he bent over, why they clung to his sides when he twisted his body reaching for a can of Gunk. As you might expect, there wasn't a hint of dick that showed, but still, I knew what was waiting under that long throat-to-crotch zipper. I didn't even want to unzip him. I just wanted to touch the tab on his zipper. Just a touch! My mouth went dry.
“Mornin', Racer.” Was there a new warmth in his greeting? Or was I making it up? “Thanks for taking me in last night. Turned out you didn't need to.”
I had found him the night before by the Pepsi machine in the hallway, dreading going into his room, not wanting any more trouble with Todd. He didn't need to explain and eagerly accepted my offer of the empty bed in my room.
“Todd wasn't even there. I don't know where he went, but he went.”
“Uh … great, Latham. One problem solved, huh?”
“For now,” he gave me a huge grin and went back to greasing a suspension.
I went to see Ches and plan out the day. Slick was in the featured race; so either I'd be there as protection or I'd be driving in one of the prelims which were qualifiers for the Sprint series. Do well enough in prelims and you qualified for the serious stuff, novice division. Slick was in his office and they both beckoned me to come in.
“Got some news, Race!” Slick sounded excited. “I'm getting married!”
Ches was smiling, too; so I knew it wasn't bullshit. Ches has a sense of humor but not the pranky kind.
“Wow! Congratulations, Slick. Who's the lucky girl?”
“Teri Trackwood. And don't believe that “Trackin' Teri” stuff. We've ALL fooled around a little.”
I had no idea what that meant, so I just smiled and shook his hand. The next smack to the side of the head came from Ches. He shook his head and said, “Just like your father, Slick. Eventually, you have to get married.” Ok, so far. Then he looked at me and added, “Both your fathers, actually.”
Slick left and I got my assignment from Ches. I was in the second prelim, which was fine; but I had to ask somebody something. “Ches, what did he mean about 'Trackin' Teri'?”
“Just a silly nickname, 'cause she hangs around the tracks. Why not? She's a reporter!”
It took Lucas to tell me the whole story; accountants always know the whole story. He said Teri didn't just like the tracks, she also liked the drivers. Lucas said the nickname came from one driver's comment that when you fuck her doggie she tracks to the left. “But he never said that was BAD!” Lucas laughed way too much at the story.
“What's he finding so funny?” Slick asked me.
“Some kind of state tax thing … I didn't get it entirely.” It was a lie, but a necessary one.
“So, you want to go out and celebrate my retirement? … from the massage parlor circuit.” he added when he saw my shock. “One more slide on the pole by an expert?”
“Sure. I could handle that.” Truth was I could. Latham had got me real horny. “And, Slick, what did Ches mean about both our fathers?”
“You don't know?”
“No clue.”
“Our daddies were good friends. REAL good friends, you know? Before they were married and all.”
“They …???” I couldn't ask the question.
“I don't know what went on for sure, but they were always roommates on the circuit and there weren't any women around for a bunch of years. Then they both got married the same winter. If Ches knows any details, he doesn't share 'em. But he jokes about me being a lot like my ol' daddy. We fool around... and have a lot of fun … but eventually it's time to produce Slick Parsons the Third. Think about it, Racer. It's what comes next when you're tired of … you know – pretty boys.” He winked. “ 'Cept for you, I'd make an exception for you.”
“Our daddies ...”
“Why do you think you're working here? Cause you're great with brakes? Well, you are … but that's not why you got hired. You got hired 'cause my daddy said do anything your daddy wants. He said it to Ches and me. So when your daddy called about work ...”
“I was part of a traveling crew. We hired out. I didn't ask to work here.”
Slick shook his head. “Nope. Your daddy arranged it all.”
“Ches knew?”
Slick just smiled. “All I ever heard Ches say was 'The kid's got a dick just like his daddy's!' ” I felt hot enough to catch fire, blushing from head to foot. “Racer, don't sweat it. You're worth having no matter how you got hired. Everybody loves you around here, mostly for the right reasons.” Slick laughed again and left.
“What happened to you?” Latham asked. He stood there with his hand on his hip waiting for my answer. I didn't need x-ray vision, I could see him naked.
I looked away and said, “I'm driving today. I didn't expect it.”
“Good luck, Racer.” GOD! The way he said my name! I got to get away from this kid.
One dependable thing about cheap motels is the curtains never work very well. My room had basic polyester curtains at the window doubled by a heavy plastic-coated canvas liner. Despite pulling them closed carefully the morning light seeped in, in the middle, where they didn't quite meet, and on the sides where their light barrier didn't quite touch the wall. At six A.M. the room was pretty well-lighted.
Well lighted enough that I could see the defined muscles in his back. The blanket was around his waist, giving me a good view of what hard work can do for the male figure. My high school biology book could have used him for a model.
I lay admiring the view before me and waking up slowly. A door a few room away slammed and the sound disturbed him. He shifted in the bed, extending a leg. That small action changed everything. The blanket shifted just a couple of inches lower and lay diagonally across his ass displaying a bit more skin. What an important bit, though. The view changed instantly from clinical to erotic. Soft pale skin that wanted touching. A light dusting of fuzzy hair that wanted stroking. A darker cleft, more mysterious, that wanted exploring. Sexual alarms went off in my head. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to pry those cheeks apart with my dick. There wasn't a noble feeling in my head, no love, no caring. I wanted to fuck him. The door slammed again and he shifted more drastically this time. He rolled over.
His cock was beautiful and almost hard. Not rigid, but all stretched out, fully tumescent. A murkiness surrounded it, a blur of pubic hair that made me think of airy cotton candy. I heard him sigh, waking up. His hand scratched his chest absentmindedly and then slid down. His spread fingers worked like a comb through his pubic hair and then closed gently around his cock, giving it a tentative stroke or two. A responsive surge filled his hand. I almost laughed out loud; I could totally believe he was debating whether to jack off or not. One hand played with his balls, the other stroked slowly and his now-rigid shaft.
The turmoil I imagined in his mind was matched in my own. I wanted to suck his cock and I don't think I ever had before. Of course I sucked B. J. a bunch, but that was part of fucking, part of a total act. I never really wanted just to taste his cock, to lick the head and see if I could taste his fluids and feel the sponginess of the crown, to take it down my throat and feel him pulse in me, to hold the shaft in my hand and slurp on it like a popsicle.
Suddenly he made his decision. No jacking off! He swung his feet to the floor and stood. Now he was closer, his dick was bobbing in front of me, little jerks with every beat of his heart. I could reach out and touch him, pull him closer, pull him into my bed. Why is he just standing there, stock still? Is he watching me? Can he tell I'm watching him? The light was from behind me; my face must have been shadowed. Maybe he's tempted too.
And then the moment ended. He half-turned, bent, and picked up his clothes. He walked silently into the bathroom. I heard the splash of piss in the toilet, a flush, the running of water in the basin, followed by silence. Shortly he emerged from the bathroom and left, closing the door quietly.
“Todd?” I heard Latham call out as he entered the room next door. “You here Todd?” And then silence. No Todd? Passed out Todd? I couldn't tell.
I don't know if there's really such a thing as blue balls, but mine ached as I got into the shower. I was half done in the bathroom before my dick went down. I dressed and went for breakfast in the restaurant adjoining the motel. I wondered if Latham would be there. Of course I'd sit with him, but what would I say? I want to fuck you? At six in the morning? Hell, yes, I'd do it; but it that the kind of thing you say first thing in the morning? I relaxed when I saw it was just me and a couple truck drivers eating early. I want to suck you and fuck you, Latham, I thought to myself.
“What, hon?” the waitress asked. I must have been talking out loud.
“Uh … I'd love some coffee.” She smiled showing she knew that wasn't what I had said.
I didn't see him until later in the morning. He was wearing the team coveralls, covered with advertising patches. He looked totally different to me today. Coveralls are usually not the sexiest garment in anybody's closet, but now I knew what this pair were covering. I knew exactly why they pulled tight across his ass when he bent over, why they clung to his sides when he twisted his body reaching for a can of Gunk. As you might expect, there wasn't a hint of dick that showed, but still, I knew what was waiting under that long throat-to-crotch zipper. I didn't even want to unzip him. I just wanted to touch the tab on his zipper. Just a touch! My mouth went dry.
“Mornin', Racer.” Was there a new warmth in his greeting? Or was I making it up? “Thanks for taking me in last night. Turned out you didn't need to.”
I had found him the night before by the Pepsi machine in the hallway, dreading going into his room, not wanting any more trouble with Todd. He didn't need to explain and eagerly accepted my offer of the empty bed in my room.
“Todd wasn't even there. I don't know where he went, but he went.”
“Uh … great, Latham. One problem solved, huh?”
“For now,” he gave me a huge grin and went back to greasing a suspension.
I went to see Ches and plan out the day. Slick was in the featured race; so either I'd be there as protection or I'd be driving in one of the prelims which were qualifiers for the Sprint series. Do well enough in prelims and you qualified for the serious stuff, novice division. Slick was in his office and they both beckoned me to come in.
“Got some news, Race!” Slick sounded excited. “I'm getting married!”
Ches was smiling, too; so I knew it wasn't bullshit. Ches has a sense of humor but not the pranky kind.
“Wow! Congratulations, Slick. Who's the lucky girl?”
“Teri Trackwood. And don't believe that “Trackin' Teri” stuff. We've ALL fooled around a little.”
I had no idea what that meant, so I just smiled and shook his hand. The next smack to the side of the head came from Ches. He shook his head and said, “Just like your father, Slick. Eventually, you have to get married.” Ok, so far. Then he looked at me and added, “Both your fathers, actually.”
Slick left and I got my assignment from Ches. I was in the second prelim, which was fine; but I had to ask somebody something. “Ches, what did he mean about 'Trackin' Teri'?”
“Just a silly nickname, 'cause she hangs around the tracks. Why not? She's a reporter!”
It took Lucas to tell me the whole story; accountants always know the whole story. He said Teri didn't just like the tracks, she also liked the drivers. Lucas said the nickname came from one driver's comment that when you fuck her doggie she tracks to the left. “But he never said that was BAD!” Lucas laughed way too much at the story.
“What's he finding so funny?” Slick asked me.
“Some kind of state tax thing … I didn't get it entirely.” It was a lie, but a necessary one.
“So, you want to go out and celebrate my retirement? … from the massage parlor circuit.” he added when he saw my shock. “One more slide on the pole by an expert?”
“Sure. I could handle that.” Truth was I could. Latham had got me real horny. “And, Slick, what did Ches mean about both our fathers?”
“You don't know?”
“No clue.”
“Our daddies were good friends. REAL good friends, you know? Before they were married and all.”
“They …???” I couldn't ask the question.
“I don't know what went on for sure, but they were always roommates on the circuit and there weren't any women around for a bunch of years. Then they both got married the same winter. If Ches knows any details, he doesn't share 'em. But he jokes about me being a lot like my ol' daddy. We fool around... and have a lot of fun … but eventually it's time to produce Slick Parsons the Third. Think about it, Racer. It's what comes next when you're tired of … you know – pretty boys.” He winked. “ 'Cept for you, I'd make an exception for you.”
“Our daddies ...”
“Why do you think you're working here? Cause you're great with brakes? Well, you are … but that's not why you got hired. You got hired 'cause my daddy said do anything your daddy wants. He said it to Ches and me. So when your daddy called about work ...”
“I was part of a traveling crew. We hired out. I didn't ask to work here.”
Slick shook his head. “Nope. Your daddy arranged it all.”
“Ches knew?”
Slick just smiled. “All I ever heard Ches say was 'The kid's got a dick just like his daddy's!' ” I felt hot enough to catch fire, blushing from head to foot. “Racer, don't sweat it. You're worth having no matter how you got hired. Everybody loves you around here, mostly for the right reasons.” Slick laughed again and left.
“What happened to you?” Latham asked. He stood there with his hand on his hip waiting for my answer. I didn't need x-ray vision, I could see him naked.
I looked away and said, “I'm driving today. I didn't expect it.”
“Good luck, Racer.” GOD! The way he said my name! I got to get away from this kid.
Rory,
That was an eye opening chapter in more ways than one!
That was an eye opening chapter in more ways than one!
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Interesting back story about "The Dads". Was not aware of those connections at all. 
As for that Very SEXY, Erotically Descriptive "Opening" (Literally), my back molars were flooding as your were so deftly inscribing that Vision in my mind!
I was also thinking more "devious" events had lead to the opportunity to revel in such a glorious unveiling.
To discover it was purely innocent only served to enhance my appreciation.
I've got to give Racer a TON of credit for his ability to resist such Temptation!
Butt, "get away from the kid"?
Damn! I have to admit I certainly don't have Racer's Strength!
If I were in Racer's shoes, I would be ALL over Latham, in a Heartbeat, especially knowing his "secret" desire.
Can't wait for MORE!
THANK YOU!, Rory!!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
As for that Very SEXY, Erotically Descriptive "Opening" (Literally), my back molars were flooding as your were so deftly inscribing that Vision in my mind!
I was also thinking more "devious" events had lead to the opportunity to revel in such a glorious unveiling.
To discover it was purely innocent only served to enhance my appreciation.
I've got to give Racer a TON of credit for his ability to resist such Temptation!
Butt, "get away from the kid"?
Damn! I have to admit I certainly don't have Racer's Strength!
If I were in Racer's shoes, I would be ALL over Latham, in a Heartbeat, especially knowing his "secret" desire.
Can't wait for MORE!
THANK YOU!, Rory!!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Chaz expressed quite nicely how I was feeling as I read the morning awakening.
It was hot!
It was hot!
Craiger
JUB Addict
Another exciting twist to the story, Rory. I also agree fully with Chaz, sexy and erotic to a tee.
Craiger
Craiger
Happy New Year, Rory!
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Racer came over today to wash my car:
Good looking guys, regardless!
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Fifty-Four - Steady as She Goes
It was a couple of days before I could be around Latham without trying to think up ways to fuck him. I wasn't even sure if he was actually gay of not. We didn't talk about it and the only comment he made about the night at Labia's was something about not liking the music, which was a lot of moaning by women with shredded hearts. Even Todd, who seemed fascinated by the whole business, had called it drag-queen drama.
“Where IS Todd, anyway?” I asked him. I hadn't seen him in days.
“Who the fuck KNOWS?” Latham answered wearing the biggest smile I'd even seen on somebody who hadn't been puffing on something.
“He couldn't have had THAT big a hold over you.”
“He made me think he did. Mind games and shit. Always fuckin' with my head.”
Maybe Latham was right. B. J. always seemed to be under some kind of spell whenever the Hinckley brothers were involved. I never understood it. Just walk away, I'd tell him; but he couldn't – until that night we ran one of 'em up a flagpole. Latham seemed the same way. I finally asked him why.
“I'm poor and stupid, Racer. I got no future. This is as good as it's ever gonna get for me and things could get a lot worse if I lose this job. And if I gotta fuck somebody to keep it … well, worse shit goes down all the time.” His eyes begged for understanding.
“One thing, Latham, you're not stupid. Where'd you get that idea? And another thing …”
“I quit school in the middle of the tenth grade for a coal-grading job that shut down a week later. I was young and stupid. I thought it would be easy to get another job. After a couple of months I got nothing but minimum wage stuff. I tried a couple of jobs. They were HARD, and I had to live at home, and I had to give most of what I made to my momma. And life sucked! Everything sucked! Including Todd Hinckley!”
“Yes, but you could have ...”
“Could have what? I tried everything else. Ah, shit, there's no point even talkin' about it.”
I persisted. “You could finish high school. You're not so old.”
“I can't take time off the job. And we travel a lot.”
“At home, in Warrenton, there's a school that's self-paced. You do what you can when you can. Pass a test and graduate.”
“With a GED. 'Good Enough for a Dickhead.' Do you know what a GED is worth? Zip shit.”
“It isn't a GED. At least, they say it isn't. It's a community college that's hooked up with my high school. You get a diploma from Fauquier High – just like mine. There's probably something like that where you live.”
“There's nothing where I live. Nothin' but abandoned coal mines and idiots sittin' waitin' for them to reopen. This is the best job I'll ever have!” He held up his hands blackened with grease. I'd never heard such despair before.
“You could stay with me. You could move to Warrenton … and when we're not racin' you could go to school, and study on the road. You could do it.” His eyes said he couldn't. “You could, Latham … You could do it. It's not like high school, learning is easy once you're rid of the all the Harry High School crap.”
“Hairy High School?” He laughed and mimicked a gorilla.
“No, Harry, the name … like guys who took student council and all that shit seriously and dressed preppy.”
“Preppy? In West Virginia?” He laughed some more.
“Seriously. You could do it.”
He gave me a you're-crazy smile and put a tire on the spinner, checking for wear.
“Where's Todd?” Slick asked. Latham didn't look up.
“That's what I just asked. Nobody knows,” I told him, nobody being myself and Latham.
“I wanted him to do my laundry,” Slick explained.
“I could do it,” Latham volunteered, now looking amazingly young with a spot of grease smeared on his face.
“You could, but then I'd have to throw it away ...” Slick joked; Latham's face fell in disappointment. “Teri wants me to use a commercial service, but Todd was good enough and cheap. So where the fuck is he? We don't offer paid vacations here.”
“Nobody knows exactly; we came back a couple nights ago ...” I told him, but Slick wasn't interested in details.
“Nice going in that race, by the way.” Slick's compliments were rare.
Latham watched him leave. “Nice going? You lapped half the field! More like awesome if you ask me. I'm going for lunch.”
I had a set of brake pads in front of me at the bench and got a little lost wondering about the benefits of ceramic versus metal. The sintered metal wore longer but chewed up the disk more. Except metal dissipated heat faster. But the ceramic could handle higher temperatures so they didn't need to … I dropped my calipers and stared. Latham had half unzipped his coveralls and had them hanging around his waist while he rubbed grease cutter on his hands and arms at the deep sink. He bent over to rinse off and the coveralls slipped lower. At first I thought he wasn't wearing underwear but eventually a blue waistband appeared low around his hips as the coveralls shifted lower. He stood with his legs spread to keep the coveralls from falling to the floor and all I could do was stare at the anatomy lesson in front of me. I wanted to touch him, just touch him, any place, feel his skin. He turned and caught me staring. It didn't seem to bother him.
“I'm going to that Tex-Mex truck. You want to come?” He struggled back into the top half of the coveralls and zipped up.
I declined and watched him leave. His confident almost cocky walk belied his insecurities. He half-turned and smiled at me almost as if he could tell I was watching him. And then he rounded a corner and was gone. I went back to checking a caliper assembly.
“Racer!” A loud whisper. “Did anybody miss me?”
“Everybody missed you, Todd. You know we can't make a move without you.”
“Congratulations on that race. I saw you name in the Sprint standings. Seriously, did anyone miss me?”
“Slick wanted you to do his laundry. He missed you.” I looked carefully at Todd as I spoke. “What? Something's different about you.”
“Nothing is different,” he said brusquely. “I don't know what you're talking about.” He saw I wasn't buying that. “Really? You can tell?”
“Tell what? What's different? You look the same, but not exactly ...”
“How come you notice? Ches didn't. Lucas barely looked up.”
“What am I noticing? Say it.”
“My hair is … just a little bit … a few highlights ...”
“YES! You've dyed your hair!”
“And made up my eyes a little ...” He blinked slowly and suddenly I got the full effect.
“You've become a drag queen? YES! You have!”
“I'm not a drag queen! Let's say I discovered I have a talent for illusion. No bawdy jokes. No grotesque makeup. Just a little enhancement. A little suggestion. And in the right light, at the Club, I can almost make dreams come true.”
“You DISCOVERED this?”
“Well, Misty helped, showed me a few tricks; but yes, it was mostly me. Let's say I'm better at being an illusion that I was at being a dude.”
“Which reminds me, asshole, I'm pissed at you. Don't look at me that way. You've got Latham scared to death he's gonna get fired 'cause he won't let you ...”
He gave me an eye-roll; with make up on it was more effective than his usual drama. “That boy is obsessed with getting fucked!”
“I would be too if it was you threatening to do it.”
“Well … he's got nothing to worry about. In about eight months I'll be having a little operation … snip, snip here … snip, snip there … not all that much to snip, as you know.”
“You're … No! You can't!”
“Why not? What have I got to lose? Five inches of disappointment. I told Ches I'm leaving. He wasn't heart-broken. I wanted to tell you, too. You're always amazingly nice to people who are pretty shitty to you. Maybe, with different equipment, I can pick up some of that. Lucas probably has my check ready. It's been nice knowing you, Racer.”
Todd left as Latham returned in high spirits. “You know what? Slick is a good guy. I was in line with him at the food truck and he apologized for joking about the laundry. You know what he said? He said, 'Can't have you doing laundry. I'm gonna need you on brakes when Racer shifts to driving full time.' Wow! Me on brakes!”
The driving full time was news to me, but I didn't let on.
“You're a good dude, too, Racer, offering to let me stay with you. I mean it. Nobody ever made me an offer like that before.” Suddenly he was taking his coveralls off . “And you know what? Slick wants ME to go for a massage with him!” He stepped into his jeans and pulled a t-shirt on. “ME!”
“The offer is real. A little advanced math comes in handy with brake maintenance.”
“What do you mean?”
“What is fifty-five percent wear against two centimeters of lining?”
“Aren't there charts for that?”
“Not when you take the mechanics exam. Go get your massage. I got more good news for next time I see you.”
“What?” he wanted to know.
“It'll keep.”
It was a couple of days before I could be around Latham without trying to think up ways to fuck him. I wasn't even sure if he was actually gay of not. We didn't talk about it and the only comment he made about the night at Labia's was something about not liking the music, which was a lot of moaning by women with shredded hearts. Even Todd, who seemed fascinated by the whole business, had called it drag-queen drama.
“Where IS Todd, anyway?” I asked him. I hadn't seen him in days.
“Who the fuck KNOWS?” Latham answered wearing the biggest smile I'd even seen on somebody who hadn't been puffing on something.
“He couldn't have had THAT big a hold over you.”
“He made me think he did. Mind games and shit. Always fuckin' with my head.”
Maybe Latham was right. B. J. always seemed to be under some kind of spell whenever the Hinckley brothers were involved. I never understood it. Just walk away, I'd tell him; but he couldn't – until that night we ran one of 'em up a flagpole. Latham seemed the same way. I finally asked him why.
“I'm poor and stupid, Racer. I got no future. This is as good as it's ever gonna get for me and things could get a lot worse if I lose this job. And if I gotta fuck somebody to keep it … well, worse shit goes down all the time.” His eyes begged for understanding.
“One thing, Latham, you're not stupid. Where'd you get that idea? And another thing …”
“I quit school in the middle of the tenth grade for a coal-grading job that shut down a week later. I was young and stupid. I thought it would be easy to get another job. After a couple of months I got nothing but minimum wage stuff. I tried a couple of jobs. They were HARD, and I had to live at home, and I had to give most of what I made to my momma. And life sucked! Everything sucked! Including Todd Hinckley!”
“Yes, but you could have ...”
“Could have what? I tried everything else. Ah, shit, there's no point even talkin' about it.”
I persisted. “You could finish high school. You're not so old.”
“I can't take time off the job. And we travel a lot.”
“At home, in Warrenton, there's a school that's self-paced. You do what you can when you can. Pass a test and graduate.”
“With a GED. 'Good Enough for a Dickhead.' Do you know what a GED is worth? Zip shit.”
“It isn't a GED. At least, they say it isn't. It's a community college that's hooked up with my high school. You get a diploma from Fauquier High – just like mine. There's probably something like that where you live.”
“There's nothing where I live. Nothin' but abandoned coal mines and idiots sittin' waitin' for them to reopen. This is the best job I'll ever have!” He held up his hands blackened with grease. I'd never heard such despair before.
“You could stay with me. You could move to Warrenton … and when we're not racin' you could go to school, and study on the road. You could do it.” His eyes said he couldn't. “You could, Latham … You could do it. It's not like high school, learning is easy once you're rid of the all the Harry High School crap.”
“Hairy High School?” He laughed and mimicked a gorilla.
“No, Harry, the name … like guys who took student council and all that shit seriously and dressed preppy.”
“Preppy? In West Virginia?” He laughed some more.
“Seriously. You could do it.”
He gave me a you're-crazy smile and put a tire on the spinner, checking for wear.
“Where's Todd?” Slick asked. Latham didn't look up.
“That's what I just asked. Nobody knows,” I told him, nobody being myself and Latham.
“I wanted him to do my laundry,” Slick explained.
“I could do it,” Latham volunteered, now looking amazingly young with a spot of grease smeared on his face.
“You could, but then I'd have to throw it away ...” Slick joked; Latham's face fell in disappointment. “Teri wants me to use a commercial service, but Todd was good enough and cheap. So where the fuck is he? We don't offer paid vacations here.”
“Nobody knows exactly; we came back a couple nights ago ...” I told him, but Slick wasn't interested in details.
“Nice going in that race, by the way.” Slick's compliments were rare.
Latham watched him leave. “Nice going? You lapped half the field! More like awesome if you ask me. I'm going for lunch.”
I had a set of brake pads in front of me at the bench and got a little lost wondering about the benefits of ceramic versus metal. The sintered metal wore longer but chewed up the disk more. Except metal dissipated heat faster. But the ceramic could handle higher temperatures so they didn't need to … I dropped my calipers and stared. Latham had half unzipped his coveralls and had them hanging around his waist while he rubbed grease cutter on his hands and arms at the deep sink. He bent over to rinse off and the coveralls slipped lower. At first I thought he wasn't wearing underwear but eventually a blue waistband appeared low around his hips as the coveralls shifted lower. He stood with his legs spread to keep the coveralls from falling to the floor and all I could do was stare at the anatomy lesson in front of me. I wanted to touch him, just touch him, any place, feel his skin. He turned and caught me staring. It didn't seem to bother him.
“I'm going to that Tex-Mex truck. You want to come?” He struggled back into the top half of the coveralls and zipped up.
I declined and watched him leave. His confident almost cocky walk belied his insecurities. He half-turned and smiled at me almost as if he could tell I was watching him. And then he rounded a corner and was gone. I went back to checking a caliper assembly.
“Racer!” A loud whisper. “Did anybody miss me?”
“Everybody missed you, Todd. You know we can't make a move without you.”
“Congratulations on that race. I saw you name in the Sprint standings. Seriously, did anyone miss me?”
“Slick wanted you to do his laundry. He missed you.” I looked carefully at Todd as I spoke. “What? Something's different about you.”
“Nothing is different,” he said brusquely. “I don't know what you're talking about.” He saw I wasn't buying that. “Really? You can tell?”
“Tell what? What's different? You look the same, but not exactly ...”
“How come you notice? Ches didn't. Lucas barely looked up.”
“What am I noticing? Say it.”
“My hair is … just a little bit … a few highlights ...”
“YES! You've dyed your hair!”
“And made up my eyes a little ...” He blinked slowly and suddenly I got the full effect.
“You've become a drag queen? YES! You have!”
“I'm not a drag queen! Let's say I discovered I have a talent for illusion. No bawdy jokes. No grotesque makeup. Just a little enhancement. A little suggestion. And in the right light, at the Club, I can almost make dreams come true.”
“You DISCOVERED this?”
“Well, Misty helped, showed me a few tricks; but yes, it was mostly me. Let's say I'm better at being an illusion that I was at being a dude.”
“Which reminds me, asshole, I'm pissed at you. Don't look at me that way. You've got Latham scared to death he's gonna get fired 'cause he won't let you ...”
He gave me an eye-roll; with make up on it was more effective than his usual drama. “That boy is obsessed with getting fucked!”
“I would be too if it was you threatening to do it.”
“Well … he's got nothing to worry about. In about eight months I'll be having a little operation … snip, snip here … snip, snip there … not all that much to snip, as you know.”
“You're … No! You can't!”
“Why not? What have I got to lose? Five inches of disappointment. I told Ches I'm leaving. He wasn't heart-broken. I wanted to tell you, too. You're always amazingly nice to people who are pretty shitty to you. Maybe, with different equipment, I can pick up some of that. Lucas probably has my check ready. It's been nice knowing you, Racer.”
Todd left as Latham returned in high spirits. “You know what? Slick is a good guy. I was in line with him at the food truck and he apologized for joking about the laundry. You know what he said? He said, 'Can't have you doing laundry. I'm gonna need you on brakes when Racer shifts to driving full time.' Wow! Me on brakes!”
The driving full time was news to me, but I didn't let on.
“You're a good dude, too, Racer, offering to let me stay with you. I mean it. Nobody ever made me an offer like that before.” Suddenly he was taking his coveralls off . “And you know what? Slick wants ME to go for a massage with him!” He stepped into his jeans and pulled a t-shirt on. “ME!”
“The offer is real. A little advanced math comes in handy with brake maintenance.”
“What do you mean?”
“What is fifty-five percent wear against two centimeters of lining?”
“Aren't there charts for that?”
“Not when you take the mechanics exam. Go get your massage. I got more good news for next time I see you.”
“What?” he wanted to know.
“It'll keep.”
Rory,
This was a most enjoyable installment - things are looking up on many fronts.
Snip, snip, ain't happening around here, that's for damned sure!
This was a most enjoyable installment - things are looking up on many fronts.
Snip, snip, ain't happening around here, that's for damned sure!
Craiger
JUB Addict
Wow! Quite a bit of info flowing in this chapter... Racer driving full time, Todd getting snipped, Latham possibly living with Racer. What will B.J. say about that??? Fun times ahead, thanks, Rory.
Craiger
Craiger
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Just when I think I have an idea where this is going, you whip some curves into the roadway! 
Todd leaving? Well ... O.K. Not necessarily a "bad thing", or "big loss". Still ... Interesting path Misty has guided him along.
And, maybe Slick isn't quite the "douche bag" I'd come to consider him. Still ... taking Latham for a massage?
Racer's concern for Latham, and his encouragement, are more "Big Brother" than "conquest". I'm feeling really good about the embers glowing there!
Please continue typing, Rory, Buddy!
And, yeah! ... No Matter What ...
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Todd leaving? Well ... O.K. Not necessarily a "bad thing", or "big loss". Still ... Interesting path Misty has guided him along.
And, maybe Slick isn't quite the "douche bag" I'd come to consider him. Still ... taking Latham for a massage?
Racer's concern for Latham, and his encouragement, are more "Big Brother" than "conquest". I'm feeling really good about the embers glowing there!
Please continue typing, Rory, Buddy!
And, yeah! ... No Matter What ...
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Fifty-Five - The Longest Trip Begins with One Step
Page 42 ... out of 827. I had never read a book this long, but I was starting page forty-two. I was five percent done. Before I got to page forty-five my phone buzzed. I picked up when I saw who was calling.
“Racer, before you get all … all something, I wanted to tell you I've moved out of your apartment.” He waited for me to say something.
“B. J., it's good to hear from you.”
“I didn't want old Mizz Lucketts getting to you first.”
“Ok, thanks for telling me. I'm touched by your concern. You're out of my apartment and out of my life?”
“NO … No, baby. I KNEW you'd take this all wrong. I'm not anything. Everything's still the same, totally the same, except my clothes are in Arlington.”
“I don't care about your clothes. Where are you?”
“I love you, Racer.”
“Where are you. Beej?”
“Right now I'm with my clothes; but that's ONLY until you get back. Then I'm with you. I wish you were here now. I'm telling you again, Racer, I love you, and you're supposed to say it back.”
“I love you.” I said it but I didn't even convince myself.
“Say it like you mean it.”
“I LOVE you.”
“That's better. Now say it the way you do when you're fuckin' me.”
He made me laugh – the way he always does. “I love you, Beej.”
“I wish you were fuckin' me right now, Race. I miss that beautiful dick of yours.”
“Who are you talking to?” A female voice in the background.
“Just a friend.” B. J. told her.
“Come on … I need my feet rubbed. It's a bitch being pregnant,” she complained.
“Did you hear that?” B. J. asked.
“Hear what?” It wasn't exactly a lie.
“Good.”
“B. J., come ON!” The voice was much louder.
“Yeah, so I hear you've been winning some races,” B. J. said, suddenly sounding loud and professional. “So how does THAT feel!”
“Not as good as you do,” I told him, sounding a little needy maybe.
“Right … well … good talkin' at ya!” Click. B. J. was gone.
Pregnant. Try laughing that off. What would that mean? Whatever B. J. still felt, a kid was going to matter, if matters weren't already changed. I should have asked him when the wedding would be. Would I be invited? I couldn't possibly go. I couldn't, right? The groom's jilted lover standing in the back looking green.
“What counts in making a happy marriage is not so much how compatible you are but how you deal with incompatibility.” That's what Tolstoy had to say about it. Of course, I wasn't married to Beej. And we had been pretty compatible, pretty fucking compatible, pretty emotionally compatible, pretty every way compatible. So Leo, old buddy, you don't apply much at all in this case. Except, Tolstoy would totally understand infidelity; it was a fact of life to him, something to be expected and ignored unless you were the infidel. But how was Beej being unfaithful when we hadn't ever set the limits, not really, nothing rigid. And being unfaithful sounds so old. What's the big deal about fidelity anyway, if he loves me? It's NO BIG DEAL. Except pregnant … a kid … a kid was a thermonuclear big deal. A kid changed everything. I wish I could cry. I think that would help right now.
Bang! I heard the door to the next room close harder than a relaxing massage would inspire. Latham must be back from massage parlor. I looked a my phone. It was only nine-fifteen. That was early. He must cum fast. Slick could cum almost any time he wanted. If there was a spare couple of minutes, Slick could get off. Maybe Latham's the same. Well, fuck that, I got problems of my own.
Three hard knocks on my door startled me. I pulled on a pair of sweats and opened it cautiously.
“Racer, old pal ...” Slick had had a few. “You want to go for a massage?”
“I was already in bed, tired after today's race. I thought you went with Latham.”
“Latham.” Slick made a disgusted noise. “I hope he's good with brakes … So that's a no, huh? Maybe I'll order in. There's a new phone app that's supposed to be hot.” Slick walked away looking down at his phone.
Why isn't he with Trackin' Teri? Why is he alone and 'ordering in' – whatever that implied. Boys? Girls? Food? Maybe I should check out his app. Instead I got back into bed and picked up my book. It felt heavy on my chest. I wasn't crying; I never do that. But the words were blurry. My throat hurt and I went to sleep.
The next couple of days the team functioned like a professional racing team. We did our jobs, Slick won a couple, I placed high in a couple, Lucas counted the cash, and Ches seemed pleased. Only Latham was withdrawn.
“Latham,” I finally said to him, “Misty called. She wants us to see a new act at Labia's.”
“I don't know, Racer. That place isn't really my thing.”
“Oh, come on. We won't stay all night. Then we can catch a late movie or something.”
He agreed with some reluctance and drank a couple of beers quickly as soon as we got there. The show started slowly with a couple of lip synch acts followed by Misty actually singing in a not-bad baritone to a karaoke box. She sang an old Patsy Kline song, “I Go Walkin'.”
For the repeat, Misty dragged me onto a raised platform and sang the song to me. She hovered around me, not quite kissing and not quite touching. Every time she got to the 'walkin' part, she would walk her fingers over my body, walkin' two fingers in the general direction of my cock. I gotta say I found it arousing and I guess the straining in my pants showed a little. I got a lot of applause when it was over. And Misty wasn't done with me.
“That's my friend Racer,” Misty told the audience. “He's a NASCAR driver. Did you know that? Isn't he cute? If he gets any cuter, they're gonna put his picture on the front of Tampax boxes.”
Latham spit some beer at that comment and got a fit of coughing. He got himself back under control and suggested, “Want to go?”
“Sure, I guess we've seen the new act.” I started to get up and Misty came out and signaled us to wait.
The music started again, a slow rocking beat. A shadowy figure came forward. I didn't recognize Todd right away. It was a total transformation, but not into a drag queen, into something else, something androgynous and sexy. He sang Madonna's “I Know It” to Latham. It was a song of loss – “I know you're gonna take your love and run” - but not a sad song. It was bouncy, made me want to dance and I hate to dance. Latham was entranced.
“Let's go,” he said breathlessly as soon as Todd was off stage. We paid and started to walk out, but Todd, now looking totally like Todd, asked him to stay a minute.
I waited in my truck and started it as soon as Latham got in. “You hungry? Want to go to a cult movie festival?” I asked him.
“I want another beer. Some place quiet and dark.”
We stopped at some redneck bar that Atlanta is full of. It wasn't especially quiet, but it was fairly dark. Latham picked a booth far from the bar. He glowered at anyone who moved waiting for the beer to come.
“What's wrong?” I asked him. He chugged most of the long neck when it came and immediately ordered another.
“That's what I'd like to know. What's wrong with me?” He watched impatiently for the waitress to return with another beer.
“Nothing that I know of.”
“He told you, didn't he?” He drained the last of his first bottle.
“Who? Tell me what?”
“Slick, of course. We went for a massage and I couldn't get it up!”
“That happens. No big deal.” I lied; to a nineteen year old it's a BIG DEAL.
“It never happened before. She jacked it. She sucked it. Nothing!”
“Was Slick watching?”
“How'd you know?” Latham looked me in the eye for the first time all night.
“Been there, done that. He likes watching. It can be a problem, getting hard under pressure, with your boss watching.”
“It gets worse.” I waited and let him tell me in his own time. “Tonight when Misty was playing with your cock? I got hard.”
“She wasn't playing with my cock. Never touched me. It was a tease.”
“It sure looked real. I got hard - like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And when Todd apologized to me and said good-bye, he kissed me and I got hard.” He snapped his fingers again. “Like that.”
“Jeez, Latham. A couple of times … it can happen to anybody. Don't obsess, ok?”
“Todd did more to me than I told you about. He sucked me off a lot. I would pretend I was asleep. I think he knew I wasn't, but he did his part and I did mine. So what does that make me?”
“I don't know and neither do you. Tons of straight guys have got bj's now and then.”
He chugged another beer and then we went and watched “Plan Nine From Outer Space” and laughed our asses off, forgetting for a while inexplicable urges and a faithless boyfriend. The second feature was Ed Wood; when Johnny Depp appeared wearing a wig, falsies, and a tight angora sweater, we left.
Lots of straight guys do NOT get lots of blow jobs from guys like Todd. Fact! But I didn't tell Latham that. I told him to get a good night's sleep.
Page 42 ... out of 827. I had never read a book this long, but I was starting page forty-two. I was five percent done. Before I got to page forty-five my phone buzzed. I picked up when I saw who was calling.
“Racer, before you get all … all something, I wanted to tell you I've moved out of your apartment.” He waited for me to say something.
“B. J., it's good to hear from you.”
“I didn't want old Mizz Lucketts getting to you first.”
“Ok, thanks for telling me. I'm touched by your concern. You're out of my apartment and out of my life?”
“NO … No, baby. I KNEW you'd take this all wrong. I'm not anything. Everything's still the same, totally the same, except my clothes are in Arlington.”
“I don't care about your clothes. Where are you?”
“I love you, Racer.”
“Where are you. Beej?”
“Right now I'm with my clothes; but that's ONLY until you get back. Then I'm with you. I wish you were here now. I'm telling you again, Racer, I love you, and you're supposed to say it back.”
“I love you.” I said it but I didn't even convince myself.
“Say it like you mean it.”
“I LOVE you.”
“That's better. Now say it the way you do when you're fuckin' me.”
He made me laugh – the way he always does. “I love you, Beej.”
“I wish you were fuckin' me right now, Race. I miss that beautiful dick of yours.”
“Who are you talking to?” A female voice in the background.
“Just a friend.” B. J. told her.
“Come on … I need my feet rubbed. It's a bitch being pregnant,” she complained.
“Did you hear that?” B. J. asked.
“Hear what?” It wasn't exactly a lie.
“Good.”
“B. J., come ON!” The voice was much louder.
“Yeah, so I hear you've been winning some races,” B. J. said, suddenly sounding loud and professional. “So how does THAT feel!”
“Not as good as you do,” I told him, sounding a little needy maybe.
“Right … well … good talkin' at ya!” Click. B. J. was gone.
Pregnant. Try laughing that off. What would that mean? Whatever B. J. still felt, a kid was going to matter, if matters weren't already changed. I should have asked him when the wedding would be. Would I be invited? I couldn't possibly go. I couldn't, right? The groom's jilted lover standing in the back looking green.
“What counts in making a happy marriage is not so much how compatible you are but how you deal with incompatibility.” That's what Tolstoy had to say about it. Of course, I wasn't married to Beej. And we had been pretty compatible, pretty fucking compatible, pretty emotionally compatible, pretty every way compatible. So Leo, old buddy, you don't apply much at all in this case. Except, Tolstoy would totally understand infidelity; it was a fact of life to him, something to be expected and ignored unless you were the infidel. But how was Beej being unfaithful when we hadn't ever set the limits, not really, nothing rigid. And being unfaithful sounds so old. What's the big deal about fidelity anyway, if he loves me? It's NO BIG DEAL. Except pregnant … a kid … a kid was a thermonuclear big deal. A kid changed everything. I wish I could cry. I think that would help right now.
Bang! I heard the door to the next room close harder than a relaxing massage would inspire. Latham must be back from massage parlor. I looked a my phone. It was only nine-fifteen. That was early. He must cum fast. Slick could cum almost any time he wanted. If there was a spare couple of minutes, Slick could get off. Maybe Latham's the same. Well, fuck that, I got problems of my own.
Three hard knocks on my door startled me. I pulled on a pair of sweats and opened it cautiously.
“Racer, old pal ...” Slick had had a few. “You want to go for a massage?”
“I was already in bed, tired after today's race. I thought you went with Latham.”
“Latham.” Slick made a disgusted noise. “I hope he's good with brakes … So that's a no, huh? Maybe I'll order in. There's a new phone app that's supposed to be hot.” Slick walked away looking down at his phone.
Why isn't he with Trackin' Teri? Why is he alone and 'ordering in' – whatever that implied. Boys? Girls? Food? Maybe I should check out his app. Instead I got back into bed and picked up my book. It felt heavy on my chest. I wasn't crying; I never do that. But the words were blurry. My throat hurt and I went to sleep.
The next couple of days the team functioned like a professional racing team. We did our jobs, Slick won a couple, I placed high in a couple, Lucas counted the cash, and Ches seemed pleased. Only Latham was withdrawn.
“Latham,” I finally said to him, “Misty called. She wants us to see a new act at Labia's.”
“I don't know, Racer. That place isn't really my thing.”
“Oh, come on. We won't stay all night. Then we can catch a late movie or something.”
He agreed with some reluctance and drank a couple of beers quickly as soon as we got there. The show started slowly with a couple of lip synch acts followed by Misty actually singing in a not-bad baritone to a karaoke box. She sang an old Patsy Kline song, “I Go Walkin'.”
For the repeat, Misty dragged me onto a raised platform and sang the song to me. She hovered around me, not quite kissing and not quite touching. Every time she got to the 'walkin' part, she would walk her fingers over my body, walkin' two fingers in the general direction of my cock. I gotta say I found it arousing and I guess the straining in my pants showed a little. I got a lot of applause when it was over. And Misty wasn't done with me.
“That's my friend Racer,” Misty told the audience. “He's a NASCAR driver. Did you know that? Isn't he cute? If he gets any cuter, they're gonna put his picture on the front of Tampax boxes.”
Latham spit some beer at that comment and got a fit of coughing. He got himself back under control and suggested, “Want to go?”
“Sure, I guess we've seen the new act.” I started to get up and Misty came out and signaled us to wait.
The music started again, a slow rocking beat. A shadowy figure came forward. I didn't recognize Todd right away. It was a total transformation, but not into a drag queen, into something else, something androgynous and sexy. He sang Madonna's “I Know It” to Latham. It was a song of loss – “I know you're gonna take your love and run” - but not a sad song. It was bouncy, made me want to dance and I hate to dance. Latham was entranced.
“Let's go,” he said breathlessly as soon as Todd was off stage. We paid and started to walk out, but Todd, now looking totally like Todd, asked him to stay a minute.
I waited in my truck and started it as soon as Latham got in. “You hungry? Want to go to a cult movie festival?” I asked him.
“I want another beer. Some place quiet and dark.”
We stopped at some redneck bar that Atlanta is full of. It wasn't especially quiet, but it was fairly dark. Latham picked a booth far from the bar. He glowered at anyone who moved waiting for the beer to come.
“What's wrong?” I asked him. He chugged most of the long neck when it came and immediately ordered another.
“That's what I'd like to know. What's wrong with me?” He watched impatiently for the waitress to return with another beer.
“Nothing that I know of.”
“He told you, didn't he?” He drained the last of his first bottle.
“Who? Tell me what?”
“Slick, of course. We went for a massage and I couldn't get it up!”
“That happens. No big deal.” I lied; to a nineteen year old it's a BIG DEAL.
“It never happened before. She jacked it. She sucked it. Nothing!”
“Was Slick watching?”
“How'd you know?” Latham looked me in the eye for the first time all night.
“Been there, done that. He likes watching. It can be a problem, getting hard under pressure, with your boss watching.”
“It gets worse.” I waited and let him tell me in his own time. “Tonight when Misty was playing with your cock? I got hard.”
“She wasn't playing with my cock. Never touched me. It was a tease.”
“It sure looked real. I got hard - like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And when Todd apologized to me and said good-bye, he kissed me and I got hard.” He snapped his fingers again. “Like that.”
“Jeez, Latham. A couple of times … it can happen to anybody. Don't obsess, ok?”
“Todd did more to me than I told you about. He sucked me off a lot. I would pretend I was asleep. I think he knew I wasn't, but he did his part and I did mine. So what does that make me?”
“I don't know and neither do you. Tons of straight guys have got bj's now and then.”
He chugged another beer and then we went and watched “Plan Nine From Outer Space” and laughed our asses off, forgetting for a while inexplicable urges and a faithless boyfriend. The second feature was Ed Wood; when Johnny Depp appeared wearing a wig, falsies, and a tight angora sweater, we left.
Lots of straight guys do NOT get lots of blow jobs from guys like Todd. Fact! But I didn't tell Latham that. I told him to get a good night's sleep.
Great new chapter Rory! I do have to say that BJ is the most aggravating character to me though. He can't seem to let Racer go, even though he's clearly moving on. And poor Racer, I hope he finds someone soon. Looking forward to the next chapter!
