Behind the Incinerator

© 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.

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Chapter 2

Owen Rush stutter stepped and then slid to a halt on the gravel surface behind the Cafeteria building. His eyes widened and then almost immediately narrowed to the point that barely identifiable hints of blue glimmered through his lids as he realized his and Court’s destination. There before them stood an iron relic of the past. It rose up like a behemoth in front of them. Its stove pipe stretched into the sky, nearly as high as the roof over the two-story Main building and the Cafeteria building to its west.

The monster.

The beast.

Lying in wait.


Until that moment when it unfurled and rose up 30 feet and began its destructive foray through the neighborhoods—women and children running and screaming through the streets … cars and trucks and buildings crumpling under its massive feet, and….


What was that?

Talk about timing.

The beast actually picked that very moment to moan and pop in the sweltering afternoon sun as the two teens gaped at its sheer enormity.

It had a history. Whether ‘real’ or just stories passed down from the decades of students who had walked the halls of the high school. If one really dove into those stories, one would of course conclude that only the monster knew how valid they were.

The most famous of the tales, one that carried ‘possibly’ more truth than most of the others, was that of a jilted young bride … a new teacher at the school … who had thrown herself into the fiery bowels of the iron beast after having walked in on her handsome husband in the throes of passion with someone else. He, the new head coach of the football and baseball teams. She was teaching biology and chemistry.

If she had witnessed him in that moment passionately embraced with another woman…? Well, she might have been able to deal with that. One way, or another. But no. Another woman was not the problem. No. The problem was that she had walked in on him making mad, passionate, moaning and groaning, sweat dripping, bodies slamming love with another male. A student. An athlete on the football team that he had just taken command of—the god of the school … the handsome 18-year-old senior quarterback for the team.

Unable to face the scene playing out before her, as the story was passed from one class to the next over the years, she had run from the building and raced around the corner of the Cafeteria in an attempt to find somewhere to scream? To shout? To damn him to the gods? To empty her guts without anyone witnessing? Whatever the truth, she supposedly began running once more and dove into the open yawl of the beast and disappeared into its flaming depths.

The beast.

The monster.

The incinerator.

Word was that the coach who was now into his early 40s was living on the East Coast and coaching at a private school … his lover was teaching biology and chemistry. The coach and his former quarterback lover, now partners.

Owen shook his head—bewildered.

“C-Dawg. If you ‘think’ that I am going to climb inside that … that….”

“Behind,” Courtney broke in. He looked to his left and took in the expression of pure disbelief that was clouding his friend’s face.


“We’re not climbing ‘inside’ the monster, ‘O’,” Courtney said matter of factly. “We’re going ‘behind’ the thing.”

“Well,” Owen nodded doubtfully; in this case, he was unsure that ‘behind’ was any more reassuring than ‘inside’. “That’s a … relief. I think.”

Courtney chuckled softly and rested a hand on the star athlete’s shoulder; he gave a confident squeeze, and—he urged Owen forward. He was unable to prevent his stomach from clenching into tighter knots of anticipation but at the same time, he had to fight hard to keep a whimper from escaping his clenched teeth. He wondered if he was the only one feeling the electric zing between them just then.

“C’mon. You gotta trust me on this, ‘O’.”

Owen’s eyes rolled. He nodded dubiously. Yeah. Right. Trust him. What the hell had he got himself into here? How many times had he asked himself that question the last forty-five minutes? Somehow—standing here and staring down the behemoth of iron seemed ominous … foretelling…. It was like that old pile of charred and rusted iron represented the means for his reputation to be incinerated into oblivion.


Deep breath.

Another deep breath.

He let out another sigh and stepped forward.

His mind made up, Owen nodded.

“Let’s just….” Fuck! What had he got himself into? “Let’s just do this.”

Surprise swept Courtney’s face. Owen was suddenly taking the lead in this little expedition? His eyes grazed over the magnificent body a few steps ahead of him—those perfectly sculpted shoulders. That textbook ‘V’ that flowed down into a trim waistline, and … that ass. Holy motherload of treasurers. What a spectacular, mouthwatering ass.

Oh the things I could do to that ass. Over. And, over. And over….

Yeah. Right. He better get a grip on that idea. Like ‘that’ would ever happen. He’d be lucky to get Owen to actually go through with what they had talked about. He knew that he had best quit while he was ahead. But what he could do with that ass was a really, really nice vision to consider and savor anyway.


Courtney Applegate smirked. He couldn’t help it. If this was a movie, he figured that smirk would be with an air of sarcasm mixed with irony. Coming? Not yet, but give him a few minutes and then ask again.

“Right behind you, ‘O’.”

Author’s Note: Please send your comments, thoughts, and ideas to Jonathan Longhorn using jonathan_longhorn at yahoo dot com. Please start the “Subject” line with the name of the story so I don’t toss your email as spam.

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