’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.
All trademarks used in this work are the sole property of their owners and have been used without permission or endorsement.
“News flash—Sparky. That is ‘not’ a dick. That is a Q’atonian Battle Destroyer.”
Reggie’s brow scrunched briefly before a devilish grin spread across his face. It had been a while. ‘Sparky’ was the nickname that Cayce had given him when they were kids. He had announced early on in their friendship that he intended to be the one who eventually drove one of the big engines. He had been stellar in his high school and college sports careers, as had Cayce, but the lure of the pro’s did nothing to deter his focus. The golden ticket in his mind had never really been about fame, fortune and all that went with it. No, ‘his’ golden ticket was a fire truck, a uniform, and a big fat hose. Well, another big fat hose.
Reggie’s head tilted slightly, his eyes slicing through the dimness of their booth like the headlight of a freight train.
“You’ve noticed my dick?”
Cayce’s expression volleyed back across the table.
Cayce slowly shook his head.
Have I noticed Reggie’s dick?
Between Reggie and Mike Stoneleigh, it was like trying not to notice the elephantine anaconda in the room—it drew you in, mesmerized you, and then enveloped you … swallowed you whole.
The grin was chomping at the bit, here. Reggie was amused by Cayce’s expression and found that he was enjoying the squirm.
“Reggie—I’ve taken showers with you since we were in Coach Blood’s 6th grade PE class. That’s middle school, high school, college—PE, Athletics, Baseball, Football, Wrestling—personal workouts, runs, swims … skinny dipping….”
The devil’s grin grew wider … broader … prouder. It beamed more brightly.
“So—you’ve noticed my dick?”
Another gulp of beer. A large gulp.
This conversation was beginning to slip through Cayce’s fingertips.
Why did it suddenly feel like that closet door opened out onto a slope? A dangerous, slippery slope. A slope with no chance of pulling himself back if he took that step. Maybe if he delayed his response…?
Reggie watched his lifelong best friend squirm even more. His grin broadened.
So you ‘have’ noticed my dick….
At that moment, Dani brought another frosty mug and set it in front of Cayce and then one in front of Reggie. Cayce polished off the previous mug and immediately lifted the new arrival to his lips. He glanced up and his breath froze in his lungs.
A shit-eater of a grin was lighting up Reggie’s face. Cayce knew his buddy better than anyone; Reggie was gonna beat this horse into chowder.
“Trust me—I’ve noticed it. Hard not to…,” he said hoarsely. “But so has any other guy who has seen you naked. By now, you should be used to those goggle-eyed stares from guys who see you naked for the first time. And the second time … and the third time … and….”
Large beer gulp. Again. And—again.
Dazzling white teeth shimmered through slightly parting lips. The quick flash of Reggie’s megawatt smile was almost blinding, even in the relative dimness of their booth.
“So—what do you think of it?”
What do I think of it? It’s the dick of fantasies in the dark of night. The dick of terror in the reality of the light of day. Sheah. What do I think of it?
Cayce broke the gaze down first and peered out across the seating area for several moments. Was it just him, or was it strange that an Italian restaurant was playing Country music? Well, then again, they ‘were’ in Texas.
Huh? Okay—two can play this game. I think. Initiate delay sequence in 3 … 2 … 1….
“What do I think of…?”
Now it was Reggie’s turn to head tilt and snort.
Lame attempt at deflecting there, partner.
“My dick, dork.”
Mike Stoneleigh’s head snapped up … his eyes drifted up and over the top of his menu. He seemed momentarily bewildered. It was as if he had heard….
Okay, maybe that was just a tad too loud.
Mike cocked his head slightly and looked across and up two booths. Did Reggie just say something about his dick? Sure sounded like he said something about his dick and from the blush on Cayce's face….
Wishful thinking, Stoneleigh. Wishful thinking. Just because it's the most beautiful dick you've ever seen, you're hearing things and imagining things and 'concockting' things.
Nothing like a seemingly innocent inquiry delivered on the edge of a razor sharp tongue.
That fucking slope.
The slope was getting steeper and slipperier by the second.
Cayce’s head was beginning to spin. Where had that last mug of beer gone? Didn’t Dani just bring a fresh beer to the table?
Hey! Who drank my beer?
What the hell. He was as ‘in love’ with that huge dick as much as he ‘loved’ Reggie. Who knew—if he ever let the defense shields completely down, he could easily be ‘in love’ with Reggie, or—Mike. If he was going to commit ‘Hari Kari’ on that razor tongue ‘here’, and—‘now’—then he might as well seal his doom with the absolute truth.
Cayce waited for a nod or shake, or—some form of confirmation.
And, finally—there it was.
The nod. Reggie wanted honesty and there was nothing Cayce could do but give it to him. Painful as the reaction and eventuality of what might come as a result. Oh well. It had been a good life. If he was about to be sliced, diced, and mangled by his razor tongue-wielding best friend in the next few moments, at least he was going out on a full stomach. And—they had won the ball game a couple hours ago.
That was something, anyway.
Cayce sucked in a fresh gulp of air—where ‘did’ that last beer go anyway? Surely he hadn’t finished it off already? Cayce checked their surroundings. The closest ears were still at least 2 tables in one direction and 2 booths across and down—Mike Stoneleigh.
Fuck—Mike looked good tonight. Freshly scrubbed after the ballgame, his hair slightly mussed and spiked—more a natural thing than out of a bottle or spray can—tee just tight enough to make you lick your lips when you focused on that rippling stomach or the nipple buds, or those pits when he raised his arm for any reason. His left leg was bouncing to the beat of the country song blaring in the background.
Yes, Dani—I’ll take a Slab of the Mike Special to go, please—no dressing.
The crowd was growing more rowdy. The music, too, was upping its own ante in this sudden game of chaos. Satisfied that this odd conversation was still just between the two of them, Cayce leaned forward; Reggie followed his lead.
Where the fuck did that beer go? Right now Cayce felt like he could suck a keg down and leave it with a dusty butt.
“Honestly…,” he said finally.
Huh, who knew that the word ‘honestly’ had 8 syllables in it?
“Honestly—I think that is one of the two most beautiful cocks I have ever seen.”
He said it, and in the process—he probably sealed his doom.
Cayce blushed again and looked down at the table, worry igniting like a forest fire in his gut. Yeah, don’t look at him. Don’t need to see the shock and disgust plastered across his face. Look anywhere but into those beautiful eyes.
“Yeah?” Reggie nearly choked. Wow. He didn’t figure Cayce would lie to him—not even about something as personal and private as this—but he hadn’t expected such a straight between the eyes answer. Or, maybe in this case—such a straight between the balls answer?
“Yeah, man,” Cayce continued shakily.
When had he started playing with his napkin? He wondered if it was large enough to twist into a noose. Still afraid to look into the handsome face of his lifelong best friend, he wondered why he hadn’t found that shutoff switch before he admitted to being cock curious.
Critter’s out of the barn now.
Too late to lock that door. Might as well put the honest truth out there and hope to heck he had burial insurance through the department. Funerals were expensive.
With a shoulder shrug and a sheepish, almost childlike expression sweeping across his face that would do a 2nd grader proud, the words just started pouring out of his mouth.
“You’re a total … stud, Reg. You’re beautiful. You’re so friggin’ handsome, it’s devastating. Your body rocks it. Perfect chest. Perfect hair. Perfect shoulders … legs…. It’s only fitting that with all that goin’ on, you’d have a beautiful cock, too.”
Reggie felt the blush ignite in his neck and flame upward to the tips of his ears. Wow. Huge, HUGE compliment. Not just because it came from his best friend but maybe even more because it came from who he—and most of the local population—considered to be the most gorgeous guy on the planet.
Cayce Foster was a real stunner. Heart stoppingly handsome with a smidgeon of adorable thrown in for good measure along with that dollop of clueless. Gals went nuts around him. Left goo puddles everywhere. He was always getting baked goods dropped off at the substation for him—scrumptious cakes, mouthwatering pies, cookies, even fudge—by gals desperate for his attention. Even with that bitch of a girlfriend around, some women never gave up hope that he’d finally wake up and see her for the conniving poser she really was. Or so he’d gathered when he heard the grumbles and gripes and gnashing on it. He had tried. He had really tried. She was with Cayce. Well, sort of with Cayce anyway. They had never actually made any declarations so far as he knew. At any rate, she was with his best friend to whatever extent so he couldn’t really argue ‘with’ or ‘against’ popular opinion on that subject. Still….
Of course Cayce always shared the baked beauties with everyone but saved the best pieces and slices, morsels and clumps for Reggie. It had become an embarrassing habit of taunts and teases that he was still learning to deal with; if none of his multitude of admiring women had been by the station or had flagged down his cruiser or his bright and shiny pickup to hand him a new plate or bowl of sugar rush concoction for more than a day or two, his squad members were apt to send him outside to wash the cruisers or mow the small lawn in front of the building—shirtless, of course. Yeah. Bring it home one way or the other, Cowboy. Bring it home.
One of the ‘two’ most beautiful cocks he’s ever seen? Who does the other beauty belong to?
Reggie’s eyes drifted automatically across the aisle. Mike had put down the menu and was raising his cell to take a look at a text message that had just softly dinged its presence. He paused and looked back at Reggie and Cayce; he blushed faintly when he saw that Reggie was looking right at him.
Wolfish grin. With dimples.
Kind of adorable; for another guy, anyway. Incredible looking. Now ‘that’ was a body to die for. Mike was perfectly chiseled all the way down. And, holy shit—he was hung. Mike Stoneleigh was loaded for bull moose huntin’ if ever anyone was. No wonder that back in those high school locker rooms and showers, Mike was more apt to be called ‘Stallion’ or ‘Horse” than by his given name. Reggie remembered his own shower and locker room moments. A guy has to check out the competition. Right? If anyone in the county was hung longer, thicker, wider … with a bigger ‘shroom head under that full-on sheath than him? It was this guy sitting a couple booths down. Fuck, Mike was hung.
Reggie knew where his hang ‘hung’ and he admitted—silently—that Mike had a longer and heavier hang. Considerably. Hard, that thing had to be 11-plus if it wasn’t 13.
Reggie shook his head. What was that memory lane stroll about?
Okay, um—where were they?
There was no arguing the fact but that Cayce Foster was a real stunner.
If Reggie’s body ‘rocked it,’ as Cayce had just declared—then his best friend’s body knocked it out of the celestial ballpark. Simply put—Cayce was the epitome of ‘holy shit’ beautiful. Reggie was secure enough in himself to admit that without pause. He’d even noticed guys looking over his buddy with obvious envy or—just plain lust. Not, of course, that Cayce would have the faintest idea. He was kinda clueless about himself in that regard. The fact he hadn’t the faintest idea he was incredibly gorgeous was part of Cayce’s adorable boyish charm. Blushes included.
Reggie was uncommonly at a loss for words here.
He glanced into open air and caught Mike Stoneleigh’s gaze. Again. A tight grin was joined by a friendly wink and a raised mug. He jutted a jaw of acknowledgement back at Mike and raised his mug.
Speaking of heart stoppingly gorgeous…. Mike was right there—the cherry on top of the whipped cream and caramel syrup swirls.
Mmm, maybe they should have dessert before they went for … well … dessert.
Oh, yeah—Mike Stoneleigh. Take all of those qualifications and add it to the fact that he was the very best, most honest and trustworthy building contractor in the quad-county region—if not the state. He always worked right alongside his crew and never hid in an office somewhere. All that outdoor work and construction showed on Mike’s muscular frame. Not over-the-top gym buffed and pumped but good solid, well-developed muscle. Muscle that had been built and refined, built over again and honed with honest hard work from his job running the construction and landscaping company. He even remained active with athletics like the ball team, the church league, swimming, climbing … not to mention—still working the family farm because that’s where his roots were planted.
Mike had wanted to be the best. He had insisted on starting at the bottom—in the trenches—and learning everything from the dirt and mud and rock … up. And, it had paid off in more ways than twelve. The guy was a pure, total, complete package. He was the best in the business—not only here but statewide. He regularly won contracts 500 miles away because of his reputation and his personal touch, coupled with a finished product that had more awards than anyone could count and had got him featured on more than one of those cable home improvement series.
Unusual that Mike was dining alone. Seemed like he had his arm around a different gorgeous gal whenever Reggie saw him out and about after work, weekends, holidays … the annual church festival and raffle…. Hell—he had his own cheering section in the stands at the ballgames, for Hell’s sake.
He was drifting a lot tonight. This was all about Cayce—not him. Not tonight.
Where were they?
“What you just said…. That’s…. You just…. That’s … huge of you to…. I….” Reggie was sure the tips of his ears were flaming red. He hated that. “Thanks.”
My kingdom for a beer!
Where the hell did the beer materialize from? Thank you stars!
Cayce was astonished that Reggie hadn’t caught that slip of the tongue a few moments back. All he needed was to get grilled about the ‘other’ most beautiful cock on the planet. Especially, right now when it was so close at hand … as it were.
He was relieved that Reg hadn’t been looking at him with contempt and disgust. His dang left eye did that twitch thing whenever he was really nervous. Reggie ‘was’ straight, after all. Wasn’t he? At least Cayce thought he was arrow straight until those comments in the truck about getting his fat dick sucked.
Reggie? Taking blow jobs from milstuds that were hungry for it in that hook-up place by the military installation? No way. Way? Damn, he had to find that hook-up place. Yeah, right. Like he’d have the balls to go there anyway.
Fuck that would be hot—watching a guy go down on Reggie’s fat snake.
Fuck it. Reggie was probably just pulling Cayce’s leg. Shit. Would he do that? This was the most bizarre dialogue the two of them had ever had, and man they had some dillies in their lives.
“So, … um … where is this conversation going?” Cayce asked with a mix of curiosity and dread.
Probably face down in the bath tub with your dick pointed down the drain for all the brews you’re sucking down, bro. You’ll be out cold and peeing like a race horse the rest of the night.
Now, it was Reggie’s turn to gulp at his drink. Maybe he dove in too fast and too deep here? But, this was Cayce. He had a blood-born oath to protect him … to provide for him … to kill or die for him…. There really was nothing he wouldn’t do for his best friend. Even … well … even in the dick department if that was what his buddy needed. Wanted. And, as Cayce had mentioned a few minutes earlier—Reggie knew he was hanging a beauty between his legs.
It was always fun to watch the shocked—hungry?—faces of those military dudes when he hauled his anaconda out of his Wranglers. Not even full blown hard—yet. Amazing how many of those milstud guys who were out there late at night that were looking to ‘get’ sucked, took one look at his monster and suddenly found themselves on their knees worshipping it and getting mouth fucked and throat creamed.
Breaking from his musings, Reggie did some quick surveillance. Again. All still seemed safe. As safe as anyone could be—in a crowded, somewhat noisy restaurant with 2 ears for every human in sight, anyway.
Reggie’s eyes met Mike’s gaze. Soaked into it for a moment. Paddled around briefly in those amazing hazel pools. Even in the dimness of the booth where Mike was seated, Reggie picked up the blush. Another one. Again. Each, slightly deeper than its predecessor. What was with that anyway?
Mike had blushed in the locker room and the showers now and then in school, and—again when they crossed paths in the showers and locker room at the gym … the swimming pool when they didn’t use their own, anyway…. Come to think of it, Mike seemed to blush around Reggie pretty much any time, any place, any circumstance … clothes or no clothes, on numerous occasions now drifting up toward the surface of his mind.
Come to think of it—squared—Mike flat out stared at Cayce with a unique intensity on a regular basis. He seemed to focus intently on Cayce’s butt and now that he was really thinking about it—Reggie was sure there had been many times when those stares were accompanied by Mike’s tongue dragging across his lips.
Huh. Did that mean something? Was there something there that needed pursued? Huh. Huh. And, huh.
He studied their friend with a more intrigued frame of mind for several moments.
Mike caught the new stare. It was almost like he could interpret the gears and pulleys and wheels turning and creaking in Reggie’s brain.
Mike shifted in his bench. He seemed uncomfortable. He glanced up again. Down. Up. And, down. His fingers sifted through his hair and he reached for a bread stick with his other hand. Another quick glance and then … dunk, dunk, dunk … bread stick and spicy pesto found his mouth.
What was that about?
Yeah. Very interesting.
Reggie shifted on the bench and cleared his throat.
“Well, um…. You admitted a while ago that you’re curious about dick slurpage, right?”
Nod. Dubious acknowledgement, but—it was a nod.
“And, as we have just established, I have a dick.”
Another nod. A nod moving from dubious, rounding hesitant and heading into a brick wall of wary.
“So, um…. Well—we ‘are’ best friends.”
Nod. Was there a slight relaxing in Cayce’s shoulders? Poor guy was terrified Reggie would walk away. Really?
As … fucking … if!
Reggie Cooke does not walk away. Reggie Cooke wasn’t going nowhere! Got it?
“So, um…. Well?”
Was this conversation seat belted on the back of a speeding turtle or what?
“Well … what?”
“Well…. For your safety. And, to fulfill my self-appointed duty to protect you and provide for you in ‘all’ things….” Reggie winked and offered a gentle smile that he hoped would reassure Cayce. While Cayce was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, Reggie, being older—so what if it was only 45 seconds—had long ago decided it was his job to take care of Cayce and he was never, ever going to abandon that role. Certainly not now, when Cayce clearly needed something that could potentially get him into trouble.
Cayce nearly choked on the breath that spiked up and slammed on the brakes somewhere between his nostrils and his lungs.
He was going to do it?
Reggie was going to offer him his magnificent cock!
Cayce felt a tremor make its way down his spine. Was it getting colder in here suddenly, or—was it the combination of shock and excitement that was suddenly flooding through him? Or, was it fear? Could he do this? Could he really go down on Reggie? Given the size of that monster, was it even possible? As badly as he wanted to taste Reggie, their lifelong friendship was much more important to him. He’d die if he lost Reggie.
“So…, we’re best friends. And, since it’s my duty to protect you … um … I think the ‘safest’ way … the ‘best’ way … for you to satisfy this curiosity is with ‘my’ dick.”
It was as though a cocoon had suddenly risen from beneath the table and surrounded their booth … surrounded ‘them’—sealing off the sounds of a busy restaurant and its raucous crowd. Everything faded from view and hearing just then: the clatter of dishes, the clinging of glasses, clanking of pots and pans in the open kitchen … the talking and laughing and the blaring of the music…. All, gone. Just … gone.
Complete … silence.
Yeah, there’s an idea.
Breathe, Foster! Breathe!
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp…. Oxygen finally began to flow into his lungs. The cocoon slowly yielded to those sounds and the motions and the activity around them. It soon disappeared back under the table—waiting for another opportunity to rise up and take center stage.
“Um … you’re serious?”
“Yeah,” Reggie chuckle-choked.
He wondered if he looked as bewildered at this very moment as Cayce looked warily hopeful. And, yet—the idea of Cayce on his knees … between his legs … the lips of his best friend wrapped around the shaft of his cock and sliding up and down—Cayce swallowing the volcanic gushing of his load, was … well … way beyond arousing. Fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing he could think of. His dick was very definitely in agreement with that idea. It throbbed and pulsed and jumped, as much as it could in his tight jeans.
“Yeah, I am. You want to see what it’s like to suck dick. ‘I’ have a dick that likes to get sucked. So, it seems like a win-win scenario, here bud. ‘You’ get to suck dick. ‘I’ get a blow job. Hopefully a good one,” he winked at Cayce who immediately blushed. Again. “Maybe several blow jobs—depending on how long it takes to satisfy that curiosity of yours. And this way, I don’t have to worry about you doing something dangerous like going out looking for it.”
He’d wanted to suck Reggie’s cock for so long, he didn’t remember how long he had wanted to suck Reggie’s beautiful cock. Years? Decades? Centuries? Okay—they were only 22 years old, so scratch the ‘centuries’ part of that.
Was he dreaming? If so he hoped he never woke up from it. Wow! Here was Reggie, offering it to him—finally—and he was sitting here shitting bricks. Not a good thing in a restaurant. Health Department regs were blowing out the window, here.
Reggie was offering him that beautiful cock?
Wait. Calm down. Breathe. Stop rationalizing. Okay—rationalize. Rationalize. Rationalize….
Was he backing his best friend into a corner? More like throwing him into the thrashing tentacles of an evil alien warlord like Lord Q’a or something.
‘Was’ he backing Reggie into a corner?
No. No, not at all. At least, he didn’t think so.
Cayce’s steel gray eyes stared into gold-flecked puppy dog browns. Each had to remind themselves to breathe now. At least once every hour, right? It felt like hours anyway.
Cayce breathed finally.
God, he hoped that came out more calmly than it felt on the inside. The word felt like it was dragged out of him by pissed off rhinos over jagged granite poop.
Deep breath. Cayce adjusted the throbbing erection fighting its way around to find the ejector button that would blast open the front of his suddenly way-too-tight Wranglers.
Reggie studied Cayce for a few long seconds. He looked up one aisle and down the next. He glanced at Mike Stoneleigh—who looked up just then from his plate of lasagna … cheese and marina on his nose. God that guy really was gorgeous, and at this particular moment, adorable. Reggie tapped his nose with his right hand ‘fuck’ finger. Mike read his signal perfectly; he dug his napkin from his well packed crotch and wiped. He looked for confirmation that he got the culprit. Reggie winked and thumb up’d.
Man, oh man…. Not sure why but that would be hot. Watching Cayce go down on Mike. That would be nearly as close to Hell’s furnace as … well … as watching Cayce go down on me.
Which, apparently, was going to happen.
And another forkful was shoveled into Mike’s mouth. Any number of girls and women incessantly went doe-eyed and gooey over what they deemed the most kissable lips. Reggie stared at those lips for several long moments. Yeah—he could see the kissable factor pouting out of them. However, more to the point—he considered them in something beyond a kiss—they looked like they would be a perfect fit, wrapped around his dick….
Even hotter, still? Mike actually going down on him. Reggie could almost see it—Mike on his knees. Those perfect lips spreading wide as his dick speared its way inside and fucked its way toward Mike’s throat. Mike’s hazel eyes bulging even as his dick throbbed between his legs and he whimpered and moaned with each inch that sank inside.
Wait. Hold on. Getting ahead of yourself here, Reg. Slow it down. This is supposed to be just about Cayce right now. And ‘my’ dick of course.
All this talking and thinking about sex and dicks getting sucked really had his imagination in overdrive, tonight.
Yeah—Cayce now. Mike, later.
“When?” Reggie asked as he returned his full focus to his best friend. “Where?”
“Now,” Cayce said matter-of-factly. They better go for it now. Before he died from not breathing. Or was completely pulled apart by those rhinos. Or Reggie changed his mind. Yeah, right now. He wasn’t going to risk that. “You pick the place.”
Reggie finished off his mug and set it down on the table with authority. He squinted across the table and took a long study of Cayce’s perfect face.
“Ye….” Way to go, Cayce. Breathe. Finishing his beer, he found his lungs. “Yeah. I want your dick.”
Reggie grinned with pride. “Of course you do. Everyone wants my dick. It’s a beautiful slab of meat.”
He couldn’t help it. Resistance was futile. Cayce laughed at his friend’s cockiness. A nervous blush tinged his ears and his entire face as he licked his lips. A shiver of … something … quaked through him.
Yeah, he wanted that big, beautiful slab of meat.
In his mouth.
He wanted it so bad right now that he could barely breathe. He couldn’t hold back another lip lick as he wondered what Reggie’s cum tasted like … the texture … the loadage. Would Reggie cum in his mouth? Let him swallow it? Pull out and blast all over his face and chest, marking his territory? Maybe both—down his throat and blasting all over his face. Fuck, that was a gross thought. Fuck, that was so hot his cock nearly exploded right there in his jeans, in the booth, in the restaurant….
So many questions that had run through his mind so many times … running through it again, here, and—now.
After fishing out his debit card to pay for their meals and some bills for Dani’s tip—his and Cayce’s usual 25%—they both slid from their booth and found themselves only inches from each other’s face.
Reggie considered the fact that he just bought dinner and drinks and covered the tip. Did that qualify for getting Cayce to swallow? Hmm.
Maybe you’d better not push your luck so soon in this arrangement, Reg.
Reggie reached out and slapped Cayce’s chest, pausing for a few seconds. Rock solid as always. The physical contact between them felt good. Affirming. Grounding. He could feel Cayce’s heart racing … his heart nearly pounding through the solid rock of his pecs. They met his hand like a glove to a fastball. Perfect fit. Touching each other now and then always seemed to validate the deep connection between them. Little ‘buddy touches’. A hand on a shoulder or back or arm. A playful punch to a bicep. A pat on the butt. A phantom nipple twist….
It always felt … right. Natural. Meant to be, somehow.
Their eyes connected at that moment, as if trying to peer into each other’s soul and read the other’s thoughts. Could they really do this? Was this the right thing to do for Cayce or would this fuck up their friendship beyond repair?
No … friggin’ … chance … of … that, Reggie thought. They were tight on, through anything and everything. As tight as those lips on his dick shaft were going to be.
Time to go.
Reggie removed his hand from the warmth of that solid chest. Geez he really loved Cayce like another one of his brothers. This ‘had’ to be the right thing to do for his best buddy. He hid his sudden slight case of nerves with a wide grin at Cayce, turned to lead them out of the restaurant and into a territory they had never strode—together.
“Let’s mount up, Cowboy.”
END of Chapter 3
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