’sup with you, dude?
Copyright © 2016 by Jonathan Longhorn (jonathan_longhorn at yahoo dot com). All rights reserved. Except for the use of less than two pages in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means is forbidden without the express written permission of the author. Express permission is granted to The Nifty Erotic Stories Archive for storage, indexing, retrieval, and display of this work.
Disclaimer: The material in this work is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and language. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older. All of the characters in this work are assumed to be at least 18 years of age.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. In the real world having sex without using a condom can be very dangerous to your health. Don’t ruin your life or your future. Slip it on before you slip it in.
Note: There are some references in this story and others, to things mentioned in another of my stories, Target Nemesis: The Tentacle Lord’s Revenge, which you can find here: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/target-nemesis-the-tentacle-lords-revenge.html. The story itself is about the movie being watched by characters in several of my stories in which an alien warlord bent on revenge, ‘has his way’ with an Earth Forces Brigade hero. While I hope that you would enjoy reading that story, it may be a bit brutal for some readers and you do not need to read that story first in order to understand or to enjoy this story.
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Reggie focused on the sign that whizzed past them—Valentino’s Italian Ristorante & Grille. He nodded silently to himself as he glanced in the rearview mirror and both side mirrors. Valentino’s. Most … definitely … Valentino’s.
He flipped the turn signal to change lanes so that he could head south on Highway 26 at the next intersection and head for Valentino’s. Once they were rolling down 26, he let out a sarcastic chuckle.
“Yeah, man—didn’t you know? Every Tuesday night I hang out by the back gates at the military installation and I let dick hungry military guys go down on me?”
Stunned. Astonished. Bewildered. Name it. Cayce was it just then. Why didn’t he know that? Some of those military guys were kinda hot. Wait. Which back gate? Wasn’t there more than one? Maybe Reggie was just pulling his leg. About all of it.
“There, um…. There’s a back gate at the installation?”
“There’s always a back door at military installations, bro.” Reggie sounded very well-versed on that. “Usually a local ordinance or tree huggers that forces them not to move munitions through the main gates or high-traffic gates where, if something went wrong, tens of tens of people don’t get hurt all at once.” Shrug. “Bad PR, you know. Don’t want to make them look bad in the public eye.”
Cayce sat silently contemplating that piece of information. Who was the cop, here? He should have known that. He didn’t get copied on that memo. He’d have to talk to his captain. Unsure what to say in response to that, he just sat silently waiting for more secret 411. It didn’t take long; Reggie spun out a few more silken threads to breed his curiosity.
“There’s a secluded area that isn’t too far from one of the back gates. The gate is closed except when they’re bringing stuff in or out they don’t want the general public to know about.”
Cayce just clung to the air that surrounded him as he waited for more.
“So, yeah—this spot. There is like this bank of trees and a pond that formed years ago that dries up regularly, some big-ass rocks, a ravine, a ledge or two. Part of it is inside the installation perimeter but it goes along both sides of the fence, ‘cept they have to keep a wedge either side that’s wide enough for a patrol vehicle to pass along and to keep human monkeys from tree swinging to get onto the installation unnoticed.”
Still—silence from the other side of the cab. The frown and scrunched brow said it all. Where the hell is that memo!
“So, um….” Reggie checked his mirrors as he flipped his directional indicator. “So, yeah—it’s a secret hook-up spot some of the milguys and some of the local guys have sort of carved out of the area to ‘give-n-get’ on the sex thing.”
“And you’ve been there, to, um…. To get your nut? With military guys?”
“Well, you know,” Reggie said with a wink. “A mouth is a mouth. A hole is a hole.”
Reggie couldn’t hold back the snicker as he watched Cayce’s reaction. His friend was shy and quiet most of the time even with his Alpha leadership qualities but it was fun to throw one out that left the guy speechless and bewildered.
Yeah—I’ve been there, and yeah—some of those military guys really like to go down on it.
He had wondered from time to time if he should take Cayce with him and get him a blow job. Sheah, like Cayce would go there. If only he had the balls to pursue that idea. But Cayce was so reserved … so quiet … so innocent in so many ways.
“You … are … so … full of … shit, Reg,” Cayce said as he reached across the cab and popped him in the shoulder.
“Why that question, bro?” Reggie looked into his friend’s eyes as he reached up to rub his shoulder where Cayce had just hit him. “You been thinking about doin’ guy-on-guy?”
There it was.
The … subject.
Laid out in front of him to pursue—or—run from as fast as he could.
It felt like a truckload of sandy loam had just been dumped into his mouth and throat. He rolled his eyes, again—at the words that couldn’t be stopped from pouring from his traitorous lips. Cayce shrugged, and—damn, if the words didn’t just pour out! Where was that dammed shutoff switch?
“Yeah—been wondering what it would be like to go down on a guy.” Another shrug as he tried to breathe. “You know—give a guy a blow job.”
There it was. The long-barricaded door creaked open.
Valentino’s loomed like a villa on the side of a Tuscan hill, or in this case—a grape vine covered, tile roofed, converted tire and mechanic shop on the side of a Texas Hill Country road. Reggie wheeled into the parking lot, pulling his pride and joy—his new black metallic Tundra Crew Cab—into a space right in front of one of the open shuttered bay windows. That way, he could keep an eye on his truck … even if he ‘did’ have a deputy sheriff sitting beside him.
He pulled his keys from the ignition, smoothly fingered the control panel … thunk, thunk … and the doors unlocked. As he slid his 6’3”, 220 lb. frame out of the truck, he let out another laugh.
“Anytime you wanna find out, let me know, bro,” he said with a lilting tease. “I’ve got a dick that loves to get slurped on.”
Cayce Foster sat in the passenger seat of the truck for several moments watching his best friend’s skin tight, jean clad butt as he walked toward the front door of the restaurant. Transfixed. He swallowed hard. Several times. That sandy loam hadn’t moved an inch out of his throat.
Holy fuck, if only he was serious. Reggie and that monster dick of his had been at the center of his fantasies for…. Geez, for as long as he’d been trying to barricade that closet door. He finally climbed out of the cab after grabbing his tablet. Before closing the door, he pulled the hem of his tee out of his jeans to cover his throbbing erection and looked up into the ink thick, starless night.
Seriously? Would he really…?
“Maybe I should find that back gate….”
“What’s that?” Reggie stood holding the front door open … waiting for his buddy to catch up with him.
“I said, um,” Cayce paused as he shoved a hand into a jean pocket and adjusted the throbber between his legs. “I said, I hadn’t realized until now how hungry I am. I could eat an Italian horse if it was on the menu.”
Especially if it was attached to one or two of the select stallions in the county; for instance that Italian hunk Rocky, the founding owner’s grandson.
Rocky Valentino had gone from dorkified geekhood growing up to pure rippling muscled USMC god during his almost 4 years in-service. Now, back home and in the process of taking over the day-to-day operations of the restaurant so that his parents could live a comfortable retirement. Yeah. Rocky was A-1 Certified, Prime Woof Doggie.
Reggie slapped his friend’s shoulder as he walked past him.
“Yeah, I’m sure they have, C—we can probably get you a nice, thick, juicy slab of stallion meat with a thick and creamy sauce.”
Cayce stifled a groan in reaction to Reggie’s touch and thinking about that slab of meat and its special cream sauce.
Reggie winked at his best friend and turned toward their host. Rocky beamed mega wattage that lit the night as he welcomed his lifelong friends. They shook hands, fist bumped, buddy-hugged, shoulder clapped.
“Welcome, my friends. Welcome. Your usual booth?” Wink. More gleaming teeth. “Come. Come.”
Before Reggie could answer that he wanted to be seated where he could see his truck from the front windows, the vehicle slid into ‘stealth mode.’ The lights blinked three times and then the digital voice system warned: Panther Shield – System Armed.
Grinning, Reggie turned to follow Rocky and Cayce to their ‘usual’ booth in the back of the dining room. He shook his head as he ambled behind the other two men. Rocky had a Texas drawl like nobody’s business; yet, when he walked through the doors of the Italian restaurant, that ‘drawl’ was suddenly blanketed by thick, Tuscan speech.
“Panther Shield – System Armed,” he imitated. “D-a-m-n fucking straight it is.”
As late as it was after the game and equipment check, followed by showers and hangin’ and jawin’ in the parking lot for a while, it was well into the evening by the time Reggie and Cayce arrived at the restaurant.
Rocky Valentino—the youngest of his siblings—and the only one that showed an interest in continuing the family business—was one of their classmates all through K-12. He escorted them to their favorite booth in the back of the dining area. It gave them the opportunity to watch the comings and goings but enjoy a relatively quiet, uninterrupted dinner and the opportunity to log-in to the free Wi-Fi if they needed, or—to just sit, relax, people watch and chat.
Daniella Higgins brought them menus—knowing full well what they would end up ordering because of the night of the week, but still, giving them the choice. She offered to give them some time and headed up front to grab dessert for Mr. and Mrs. Lozano and an extra slice for each to take home. In case they got the nibbles in the middle of the night.
She returned a few minutes later, took their orders, pretending to write them down even though she had already turned them in when she saw them pull into the parking lot. She knew what they would order by the day of the week—if it was steak night and if it was a game night. She looked back over her shoulder 3 times as she practically waltzed through the dining area and disappeared into the kitchen.
She returned again with a loaded platter she rested on the edge of the table. A tall frosty mug of Reggie’s favorite draught beer from the locally owned and operated Bent Horn Microbrewery—sweet tea for Cayce—as well as some fresh breadsticks and a bowl each of pesto and marinara. She also had two heaping salads and a dressing caddy with eight offerings. She flashed them a motherly look when they both opened their mouths to argue. A look that would freeze a charging buffalo. A look that said it all.
Eat them. Don’t argue. I’ll whip both your asses. You need your veggies.
Like two properly reprimanded 10-year-olds, they took up their forks, grabbed carafes, poured enough dressing over their salads to float a battleship, and then dug in. Mmm, at least she added extra croutons and cheese.
She winked again and said she would bring them their food in short order. The kitchen always put the boys’ orders ahead of everyone else’s and knew exactly how they liked their steaks prepped. Dani tongue clucked as she noticed one of the other waitresses leaning around the kitchen door to take a long peek at the gorgeous guys. Yeah. She understood completely. They really were stunning.
Cayce was wary. Becoming more wary by the second. Reggie had suddenly become very quiet. Not the usual Reggie, especially after winning one of the league games like they had just done. He looked up from his focus on the tablet he was skim-reading and caught the flash of light. If the bulb suddenly glaring over Reggie’s head had been any brighter, Cayce would have needed solar goggles. He could already feel his retinas charring around the edges. His throat constricted along with a cinch in his gut.
He ‘knew’ that light bulb, and—the expression that was now blanketing Reggie’s incredibly handsome face. The combo had got him into trouble more times in their lives than he cared to remember … and … he remembered them all. If they were going to get into mischief, even as early as kindergarten, Reggie usually lead the charge. Yet somehow, he never seemed to get spanked—or grounded in later years—as much as Cayce when they eventually got caught. And they almost always got caught.
He put it out there before taking another bite of his steak. Valentino’s always seemed to have some of the best quality meats around. Especially on Steak Night.
Reggie swallowed his mouthful of steak and then took several gulps from his frosted mug. He leaned forward conspiratorially, even as he made a quick survey of the surrounding tables and booths. He motioned with his left hand as he glanced around once again. Satisfied that there were no ears close at hand, he waited for Cayce to follow his lead. Just as Cayce was leaning across the table, Daniella arrived with a fresh pitcher of sweet tea, one of water, and another mug for Reggie. She knew them well.
“You know what, Dani…?” Cayce said with a sheepish grin upward. “When you have time, I think maybe I could use a beer after all.”
Daniella set down the pitcher of water and gently stroked Cayce’s cheek. “Oh, Sugar. I know, baby. I know. But you listen to me, Honey,” she paused to let her fingers trace downward from his face to gently trickle along his shoulder and upper right pec. The man had quite a hard body. “There are plenty of women in this county who are just waiting for you to fly the ‘available’ banner above Casa Cayce and they’ll come running. You just put her out of your mind, Sugar….”
Cayce Foster frowned as his head tilted ever so slightly.
Another caress of his tanned cheek with the back of her hand and she leaned down and kissed his forehead. “She was lucky to have you and it’s her loss that she’s going without now. You just chin up and when you’re ready, saddle that horse and ride on.”
She gave him a wink that would have cost $250 over in Bridge Creek for 45 minutes of pleasure, or—so he had heard. She picked up the pitcher and called back over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen and bar area.
“I’ll get you that beer, Sugar.”
Thankful for the dimly lit restaurant, Cayce tried to ignore the glowing embers of embarrassment that he was sure were flooding his face. He forced a laugh through his bewilderment.
“Wha…. What the hell was that about?”
Reggie grinned and looked across the dining area in time to catch the eyes of Bates Jarrell and Donny Straham. The two first-year coaches were coming in after cleaning up from the same game. They nodded and waved and then followed Rocky to a booth by the front windows. Probably so Bates could keep an eye on his brand spanking new, sticker still in the window, Jeep Wrangler Unlimited Rubicon. Both guys were from small towns in different parts of Texas and had taken teaching and coaching jobs locally rather than going to the bigger cities where the bigger salaries were found. Both seemed to prefer the more rural setting and the Bent Horn Consolidated ISD must have offered a better package than they could get in other rural areas across the state.
“I think,” Reggie said as he continued to watch their newest additions to the school system take their seats. It was easy to tell both guys had been star athletes. Really sweet builds. Not to mention their very well packed jeans. “I think she’s referring to the sizzle and zing on the grapevine that you were at the party the other night—alone—and, that you left the same party—alone. The county is abuzz that you and Jennifer are splitsville.”
Splitsville? They were never ‘officially’ togethersville. Were they?
Reggie motioned once again for his best buddy to lean-in.
Cayce sighed at the cloak and dagger moment; no one was within two booths or four tables to where they sat, but Reggie had the floor and he was making good use of it. He always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Cayce smiled. That flair had gotten both of them into so much mischief when they were younger.
“I’ve been thinking,” Reggie said softly, with so much satisfaction that it was rolling off him like fog along the river. Yeah he definitely had that dramatic flair.
Oh, God. Reggie … ‘thinking’.
That means I’m going down in flames….
Before he could muster a response, Dani whisked by with his frosted mug of beer and gave his shoulder another gentle squeeze before moving along. At the same time, Rocky greeted Mike Stoneleigh, who appeared to be dining alone tonight—go figure—escorted him toward the back of the restaurant and seated him two booths up the aisle from them.
Cayce eyed Mike as he followed Rocky to his place. God—he was beautiful. He was right up there alongside … well … Reggie. Mike had inherited the family construction business and it was really thriving under his leadership. He had excellent crews and he never hid himself in the office. He was always out on the job, making sure everything went according to plan and even pitching in to get the job done. Even if that meant lifting heavy supplies, unloading trucks, whatever was needed while he was there. The man was solid muscle, a testament to his commitment to hard work and the success of his business. It was surprising to see him alone and not with one of the many local gals who flocked to him like honey. Still he didn’t seem to have a steady girlfriend.
He wondered—maybe Mike knew about that hook-up spot by the military installation? His dick wasn’t as big as Reggie’s but it was still pretty sizable. And—uncut. A lot of gals didn’t seem to like that much. What a shame. It was a real beauty too. Mike nodded to them as he thanked Rocky for seating him.
Cayce gulped at his beer and reached for another breadstick. His attention was momentarily captured by Mike sliding into his booth while reaching for the cell phone clipped to his waistband. The move made his shirt slide upward an inch or two. An inch or two of deeply tanned skin and hard as rock muscle flashed in that moment. His eyes sank in that same moment and took in the bulging basket of Mike’s tight Wranglers. God—Cayce loved Wranglers on the right guy. God—Cayce hated Wranglers on the right guy. God—Cayce loved Wranglers on the right guy. Mike was so definitely one of the right guys in Wranglers….
Where was he? Oh yeah. He dunked the breadstick in the bowl of marinara and took a healthy bite. Mmmm. He could probably eat a whole basket of the ‘sticks’ by himself, no sweat. Dani always brought him a take home bag for whatever was left over and sometimes brought extra, especially when it was towards the end of their day. He took another bite, licked some sauce from his lip and spoke. “You’ve been….” Swallow. Chew. Swallow. Napkin swipe. “You’ve been thinking?”
Fuck. He was gonna make Cayce beg. Cayce hated that.
Reggie leaned even closer across the table, shoving his plate aside as he rested his elbows on the cool, smooth Italian marble surface. He glanced around the area once more and cleared his throat. He spoke even softer. Just in case. Mike was just two booths away….
Everything appeared all clear. Still safe. Precautionary measures initiated.
“Yeah, buddy. You know,” head nod toward the parking lot. “About what you told me out in the truck.”
Fuck. Crap. Fuck. Crap. And, fuck—for good measure.
Unsure that he wanted to know, Cayce lifted and lipped at the frosty mug. Fuck that. He gulped. And he gulped again. He set the mug down and back-handed foam from his mouth.
“And, uh….” God—this was so gonna get him in trouble. He could feel it in his bones. Especially ‘one’ bone, in particular. “And…?”
Reggie pursed his lips for a second or two. His brows knit. He also glanced around the area to make sure—one more time—that no ears were too close. And then his expression took on the angelic countenance of Satan, himself. He half whispered.
“I have a dick.”
END of Chapter 2
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