’sup with you, dude?

© 2016


Jonathan Longhorn

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.

Chapter 6

Cayce Foster pushed away from the stone wall of the shower. He wondered how long he had been standing there, letting the warm water crash against him and massage its way down the contours of his body. He took several seconds to gaze down into the vortex of water and soap spiraling out of control and then disappearing into the drain. He hoped that wasn’t an omen as to how this night was going to go. God—he hoped he wasn’t going to destroy the relationship he’d held onto like a life preserver for his entire life.

They were going to do this?

They were ‘really’ going to do this?

‘He’ was going to do this?

He was finally going to go down on Reggie?

In the next few minutes—hopefully—he was going to be on his knees and Reggie’s beautiful cock would be sliding into his mouth.

He nodded in silent confirmation. Yeah. They were going to do this. After years and years of dreaming about that mouthwatering cock. He was going to have Reggie’s cock in his mouth. Taking it. Submitting to it. Worshiping it. Swallowing … the … reward….

He felt his cock twitch and yawn. It began to awaken … again. Great. Just friggin’ great. He had just got it to go down. If he wasn’t careful it would be standing up against his stomach again. He had debated whether or not he should jack off here in the shower before he met back up with Reggie so that he didn’t shoot his wad the moment he had that thick, heavy cock in his mouth, tasting it for the very first time.

He couldn’t help but wonder if this was something that Reggie would let him do again? Often? Maybe even more than just sucking him? Well, he probably didn’t have the nerve to suggest anything beyond ‘this’. No need to go too far in testing the limits of their friendship. On the other hand—if the gods of cock luck were on his side in all of this, maybe … just maybe….

With a deep breath, Cayce urged himself to get moving. He reached out to flip the brushed stainless lever. The jets of water and the cascade coming from above his head slowed … dripped … stopped. He turned and slowly stepped toward the opening of the shower chamber. ‘Chamber’ being the operative word there. Mike Stoneleigh was a master. A craftsman for the ages. This place was decadent. A masterpiece. And, yet—warm and cozy. He had really outdone himself with this remodel and the new construction that he had done for Reggie.

He reached for the fluffy, oversized towel that had appeared out of nowhere and was draped over the bar just outside the shower chamber. When had Reggie brought it in? He was suddenly glad that he hadn’t decided to jack off. He let the towel unfurl and then buried himself in its cushiness. As he stepped toward the counter and the mirror, he shook his head. He had finally stopped shaking while the warm water was jetting and massaging across every inch of his body and now, suddenly, as reality stepped back in front of him, he felt another tremor.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

“Relax, Foster,” he said to his reflection. “You’re a grown-up. You’re not some horny teenager suddenly about to suck his first cock.” He had to laugh at that, actually. No, he was a horny early twenty-something about to suck his first cock. “Man it up already, dude.”

He folded the towel around his waist and knotted it. Yeah, time to suck. Time to suck Reggie’s beautiful cock. Lick it. Suck it. Worship it. Go for the balls. Earn that orgasm of all orgasms.

As he finished running a comb through his moist hair, he wondered about something else. What should he wear? That was the next question. Should he just go outside in his towel?

“You about done with your primping handsome? Did the dogs eat you?” Reggie sniggered at the door to the guest bathroom.

“Geez, Reg! Way to give a guy a heart attack!”

Reggie couldn’t fight the chuckle as he eyed his lifelong best friend; he slowly looked him up and down. He noted each curve, valley, contour, the bulge of his friend’s biceps even when his arms were in a relaxed state—hanging nearly straight down.

He noted, too, that Cayce was turning 10 shades of pink and red.

And, more.

So … much … more.

Cayce was eyeing him in a similar manner. Trying not to be evident about it but failing miserably. Reggie found it flattering, considering the pure stud puppy that ‘eyeing’ was coming from right now. And, the nerves mixed into that perusal, the hunger it fanned, all trying to be controlled—again, failing miserably—was adorable.

“You bring your gun in the shower with you, or—are you ‘really’ happy to see me?”

“I … um….”

That was all that came out of Cayce’s mouth; he was suddenly transfixed by a drop of water that had begun its trek at Reggie’s hairline and maneuvered the high cheekbone on the right side of his face, skiing down his cheek and making an excellent imitation of an Acapulco Cliff Diver as it ‘dove’ from his jaw bone and made a perfect landing on his collar bone and then lazily—lovingly—meandered its way down his pec.

Cayce’s eyes shot upward to slam into the amused stare aimed back at him. He’d been caught—staring—and fuck a ‘dillo, he was sure he licked his lips just then, too. Aarrgg!

“Chill, bro.” Reggie reached forward to flat palm his friend’s chest. He let his hand linger briefly before he made a fist and playfully swiped at Cayce’s jaw. A wink slid between them as he leaned ever-slightly forward and lilted, “But I gotta say, that shade of pink suits you.”

“Shut. Up!”

Reggie danced out of the way before Cayce could hit him. They both laughed even as Cayce came close to pulling off his towel to ‘thwack’ Reggie. For whatever unknown reason, though—he thought better of it at the last moment.

They stood.

They stared.

They barely breathed.

Cayce swallowed gravel.

Yeah. They stood.

They stared.

They barely breathed.

Cayce swallowed with considerable difficulty.

Reggie rocked forward and back on his heels.

Cayce wondered if Reggie could hear the thump, thump, thumping of his heart against his chest.

Reggie wondered if Cayce could hear his heart thump, thump, thumping. Geez, he hoped it didn’t crash through his chest. That would really fuck up the night.

Well, as pleasant as this view was, it wasn’t getting them anywhere. Reggie sucked in air and turned away from the bathroom.

“I could use another beer,” Reggie said over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. “You want one?”

“Um, yeah.” Deep breath. “That sounds good right now,” Cayce agreed. Was that another shudder in his throat? His eyes rolled. He took another deep breath. He was a cop, for fuck sake! Why the hell was he so fucking nervous? Duh! Why else? ‘A’ beer? Better if Reggie just got out an entire 12-pack.

Cayce followed silently as Reggie headed for the large commercial refrigerator that was part of the top of the line kitchen Mike had designed for Reggie—stainless, everywhere.

He glanced out the floor to ceiling windows toward the shimmering surface of the pool, shifting his gaze to the waterfall—Reggie had adjusted the regulator. The water was falling gently into the main basin of the pool now; it could be kicked into Niagara Falls mode or slowed to a babbling brook flow at the press of the remote. Cayce noted that the security and safety lights were on but not ‘all’ of the lights throughout the pool and garden areas. It was more warm and cozy feeling than….


Maybe Reggie wanted to ‘do it’ out there? By the pool? In the pool? In the cave?

“By the way, did you remember to knot your towel tight? You know how the dogs like to horse it up. You don’t want to let Gengi….”

‘Woof’ and whoosh.

Okay, too late on that one.


Cayce turned and chased after the big dog that now had his towel dangling from his mouth. Hopefully he had turned around fast enough that Reggie didn’t see his bone pointing right at him. Yeah, that was all he needed right now; the best friend of his life seeing him with a rebar-reinforced slab of granite bone, throbbing and starting to drool from its mushroom. Even if that bone was for him.

He tore after the huge dog using every whistle, snap, command that he could think of to bring him to a stop but Gengi was having none of it. The Mastiff playfully waited until Cayce got close enough to reach out and touch the towel and with a muffled woof, he took off again. He ran a horseshoe pattern around the pool three times and then looked to the wide open doors on the back of the house.

He woofed again and bolted for the doors. Yeah, there was plenty of space to run and hide inside the big house.


He disappeared inside.

By the time Cayce got to the main hall, all that he saw was a wildly wagging tail disappear into Reggie’s master suite—and he trotted in that direction only to be greeted by the enormous dog sitting perfectly still—towel in mouth. Was Gengi smiling? Did dogs smile? Cayce let out an irritated snort. Smile? Right. More like a triumphant smirk.

He started inching toward the alpha leader of Reggie’s dog pack with the hope that he could reach out and snatch it at the very last moment. But, that wasn’t going to happen. Just at the moment of his attack, he was nearly bowled over by the other dogs as they barreled past him yipping and bouncing toward their leader. All at once, they were all rolling around in a ball of fur and paws and yips.

Cayce quickly reached into the melee and snatched his towel from the floor. It had suddenly lost the interest of the dogs—now playing a game of tug of war with some new treasure. He peered into the rolling, tumbling sea of canines and realized that they had got their paws on his jock. The jock he had just taken off for his shower. Somehow Caesar had won the jock fest and rolled over on his back, legs up in the air, clawing at the material with his front paws and was snuffling it.


Exasperated chuckle.

Eye roll.

Cayce shook his head when he heard a rip. At this rate, they’d probably shred the thing before they were done. Dang and hang it all—that was from the brand new triple-pack at home of bright red ones, too. Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to put that one back on. It was history. He’d forgotten the dogs always seemed to go nuts over red for some unknown reason—unknown to Cayce anyway—usually trying to rip them off him while he was still wearing them. Red shorts, boxers, briefs, ‘skins, jocks. It didn’t seem to matter as long as the item was red. How weird was that?

Hail the jock strap! The jock strap is dead … long live the jock strap.

As he headed back through the house, Cayce tried to clear his fogged brain. He’d wanted to ask Reggie something but with the sudden de-toweling and the canine throw-down, he’d forgotten what it was. At least the towel chase had somewhat taken his mind off the night’s ‘big event’ and his boner had deflated so it wasn’t pointing at the sky or straight out towards Reggie.

“Dang friggin’ dogs.”

He loved them but sometimes they were worse than his own younger brothers who loved to rummage through his hamper for his used shorts and jocks and tees. It was embarrassing to have his Mom return them later after she’d found them stuffed here, buried there, tucked between this or that. She had silently gathered them and laundered them.

She always had ‘that’ question on the tip of her tongue but he wasn’t about to tell her the boys got them when they came over to visit. He wasn’t sure himself why they liked his sweaty jocks or underwear so much or exactly what they ‘did’ with them but he wouldn’t embarrass them by mentioning it, much less mortify his mother with an explanation. He was the ‘big brudder’ after all and he loved the little rascals to death. Still, he thought they’d go more for the oldest one’s stuff since he was a high school stud and star athlete. And—were easier to ‘borrow’.

He paused as he arrived at the open doors and he stared out into the night. Into the oasis of plants and water and lights that Mike Stoneleigh had created. And, he stared at the gorgeous, perfectly muscled blond stud standing poolside—gazing into the waters.

Stud … star athlete … firefighter … superhero.


Yeah—all of the above and so much more. It fit Reggie to a ‘T’ back in their high school and college days. Even now—he kept himself in fantastic shape both for the ladies and for his job. He thought about when he first realized how attracted he was to that fantastic body. How terrified he was that somehow, Reggie would find out. That he would just ‘know’ and that would be the end of it. He thought about how badly he wanted to suck that huge cock. To lick it. To savor it. To worship it. To ‘taste’ Reggie. To see if he tasted anything like that wonderful musky, masculine, pure ‘Reggie’ scent on the few sweaty jocks he’d ‘borrowed’ from his friend. And, still had to this day, preserved in triple wrapped plastic bags.


Ding! Ding! Ding!

‘That’ was why the little brothers stole ‘his’ jocks and shorts, or his tees! They liked something about his scent. Duh! What a moron he could be sometimes. They swiped ‘his’ for the same reason that he had swiped Reggie’s, Mike Stoneleigh’s, and even Lane Burkeholder’s back in high school. Okay—similar reason. He was pretty sure they didn’t use them for jackoff material. Yeah—he was kinda clueless. He shook his head in wonder at his ‘lack of clue’.

Duh! And, to think that they let me carry a loaded gun.

His eyes did another slow, loving, lustful sweep of the sexy blond stud that was his best friend. How often had he fantasized about Reggie. To see how much he came. Or, how much he wanted to hold Reggie in his arms and feel every inch of his naked body pressed up tightly to his. To run his hands over every inch of that granite hard body and that spectacular bubble butt. To see what he would taste like ‘there’. To lick and swirl and lick and prod and prep. Oh, yeah. Oh, how he wanted to fuck that beautiful bubble butt.

So many dreams and daydreams and wet dreams with Reggie as the star.

Okay. If anybody got fucked, he had to face the long, hard, thick truth. It would not likely be Reggie whose butt got turned into the cum dump. No, in all rational thought process … Cayce felt his pucker twitch and wink … ‘he’ would be the one taking it deep and hard. He couldn’t deny ‘that’ curiosity either. Yeah, he wanted to suck that beautiful cock but, yeah—his butthole regularly let him know that it wanted in on some of the action, too.

Geez, how many nights had he been shaking with fear that Reggie might find out his deep, dark secret and would walk away from their friendship. Forever. Never to speak to him again. He’d cried himself to sleep many a night—especially back in 8th grade when he first began to realize ‘things’, and then—all through high school. The other boys were awakening to their desires for the girls and were talking about it constantly. He could never really fathom that. He was too busy checking out the boys who were checking out the girls…. He didn’t think the best friend of his life would turn his back on him but still, when you came down to it, there really was no way to be sure that he wouldn’t and the risk was much too great.

He was a confident, totally together kind of guy, but if that ever happened … if Reggie shunned him … walked away from him … turned against him, he’d probably go into total freak out mode. He’d jump off the old bridge at Trestle Ridge and plunge head first into the granite and limestone shelves just beneath the surface of the water—making sure he avoided landing in the deep pools just beyond. Yeah, how could he possibly go on through the rest of his life without Reggie if that ever happened? If he walked away? There was no way he could survive without Reggie in his life.

Sports. Football, baseball, Little League included. Even lacrosse. No matter the sport, they made such a perfect team both on and off the field. Each always just ‘knew’ where the other was on the field. It was pretty astonishing really and the local sports writer never failed to mention it. Reggie loved the attention but Cayce, shier and quieter, was always embarrassed by it. He didn’t think he was anything special. He just did what he had to do on the field to the best of his abilities.

Now Reggie?

Oh yeah. Reggie was definitely something special.

His friend turned toward the table and picked up his cell phone. In that split second of motion, Reggie’s towel fluttered open and there it was.

That cock.

It really was a work of art. Beautiful. Just like he had said when he opened his big mouth and just ‘had’ to tell Reggie what was going on in his head. Why on earth couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut? Still, the thought of maybe—finally—getting to suck that beauty was what probably caused him to lose that shutoff switch for his mouth.

Dang. Double dang. He was really going to do this? After all this time of waiting and hoping and dreaming about it? He was going to suck Reggie’s cock! He’d dreamed of doing this for so long. It was hard to believe it was actually going to happen.

Okay. That was long enough K-9 towel tuggin’. Reggie had a dick needing sucked, here … now. He guessed that he was gonna have to go yank Cayce out of the house where he had disappeared chasing down the huge Bullmastiff that had almost ‘gleefully’ swiped his towel and was carrying off his purloined loot bound for who knows where. He shook his head softly at the image of a grinning Gengi, woofing and backing away every time that his buddy came close, trying to reach for the stolen towel.


As he stood there, looking out over the waters and waiting for Cayce, Reggie frowned again.



What had he been thinking? Or more like ‘not’ thinking? Damn it!

They had been asses at the restaurant! Mike was one of their oldest, closest and dearest friends. Mike had come in alone. He had been seated alone. He sat there and ate … alone. And, Reggie and Cayce had been so caught up in what they were quietly discussing that they let him sit there—alone—and then they left him—alone.


He needed to apologize for that. Maybe invite Mike for a BBQ and swim over the weekend? Yeah, that was a plan. He reached for his cell, only then realizing that he was still in a towel and nothing else. One that he quickly picked up and wrapped around himself after it fell off.

As he turned to head for the phone on the island in the outdoor kitchen, he nearly walked right into Cayce.

Still dripping—here and there—glistening in the soft lighting of the garden and pool area. A few drops shimmered like diamonds as they clung to the light dusting of silk that splayed across his beautifully cut chest.

A blush was followed by a nervous finger rake through still wet hair.

“‘sup,” Cayce asked softly. A tremble in his voice. His eyes, drinking in and licking over Reggie from head to toe.

“Hey C. ‘bout time. I was beginning to wonder if Gengi, Caesar and the ‘pack’ ate you, or….” He flashed that grin. The grin that could melt a bronze elephant. Gulp. “Get your cute butt over here. Your beer’s getting warm.”


Yeah beer.

That’s what he needed. Beer. Lots of beer. Hell, maybe he needed something a lot stronger than beer.



Did Reggie just call his butt cute? What? Oh shit. He hoped that Reggie didn’t think that he was going to…? ‘He’ didn’t get fucked. Nuh uh. No way! Not even for Reggie. Okay. Sure. In some of those fantasies maybe. Yeah. In the fantasies. Reggie fucked him. Mike fucked him. By the end of the fantasy and the final moments of stroking and the cum-cano that followed, sure. Maybe he was lying there in his bed … in the dark … covered in sweat … gasping for breath, and—yeah. He was begging to be fucked. But. That was only in the climax mode to finish it off with a cum of all cums. Yeah. In the fantasies. Reality? Nuh, uh. He wasn’t sure he could take it.

Well, okay.


He smiled softly. Reggie thought he had a cute butt?

Cayce stepped through the open doorway and back out onto the patio. Reggie watched him as he followed the walk toward the pool, toward that beer, toward Reggie … and—toward that mouthwatering cock.

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