Str8 Down On It - Chapter 3

© 2014


Jonathan Longhorn

Copyright © 2014 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: 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 3

Cole Simms tore his gaze from his best friend's bobbing head and peered out across the sparsely occupied theater. He was surprised how few people had come to check out Target Nemesis: The Tentacle Lord's Revenge—especially after all the controversy with rants and raves and pickets in some of the bigger cities. From the looks of things, there were maybe 40 people ... more or less.

On the other hand, it was the late showing. It was well after one o'clock in the morning. And, on the other, other hand, sparsely occupied seating was a good thing, under the current circumstances. He glanced back down briefly as Dustin swirled and munched on his enormous balls. He loved it when Dustin went after his balls like this. It was almost as good as the blow jobs. Almost.

He returned to his survey of the theater goers and his eyes skidded to a halt when he focused on Caleb Stillwater. God—Stillwater was gorgeous. If pressed, Cole would have to admit that the guy was the hottest stud in their school ... town ... county.


Caleb Stillwater's ranking as `hottest stud' was not the reason that Cole's survey of the theater crowd froze in place. No, not Caleb's stunning looks or that absolute Greek god body. Although, he could easily have been the model for any of the gods and they would have been spellbinding. No. The reason his eyes froze right then—right there—was a little lower than Caleb's gorgeous face ... illuminated now by flickers and flashes coming from the screen.

Caleb's cock was what caught Cole's attention.

Or, more precisely—Caleb's cock sliding in and out of Hunter James' mouth.

Holy fuck!

Hunter James was giving Caleb Stillwater a blow job? Wait—Hunter James was giving Caleb Stillwater a blow job! Right here. In the theater. With thousands ... okay ... hundreds ... okay, okay ... a few dozen people around!

Cole was comfortable enough in his own looks—how do you spell `heartthrob'—to acknowledge another guy's totally captivating looks. His looks, and—his cock. A cock that would bring a rhino to its knees in worship and admiration, not to mention a considerable amount of envy. Caleb Stillwater was hung like a ... like a ... fuck knew what he was hung like, to be honest. It was like he had a granite snake dangling between his legs. Long. Thick. Fully hooded—like his own—and a mushroom'd head that looked like a big, fat, juicy plum. Caleb's dick was almost as big, thick, and mushroom'd as his.



Hunter James was going down on Caleb Stillwater. Here. Now. Bobbing and slurping away on that massive slab of meat. From the look of bewildered pleasure sweeping across Caleb's face, Hunter must be doing one hell of a good job of it, too. All, in the flickering shadows and flashes of the movie theater ... near the back ... in the corner ... the closest other movie goers rows away...

After a brief glance at the screen and another thorough audience scope, everything still appeared safe. Cole raked his fingers through the soft waves of Dustin's light brown hair. Several rakings later, he held firm and then began fucking his throbbing cock up into Dustin's mouth. He loved doing that. It was a total rush for him. It set off his internal power surge meter.

And, from the whimper and the increased slurping noises down between his legs, Dustin loved it, too.

Cole looked back over his shoulder. He squinted in the dimness and watched that total bliss expression that was draped over Caleb's face. Hunter was still working over that slab of meat. Whoa—Caleb pulled his friend up and off his cock and pulled him toward him, smiled, and said something; then—he kissed Hunter's forehead before directing him back down and onto his cock.

Huh, he'd never thought of that. A little reward for good work, and—the promise of a bigger, fatter, much juicier reward ... soon. A reward, and—a touch of intimacy. Intimacy between best friends. Nothing wrong with that. Right? Fist bumps and buddy hugs between friends and teammates, etc. They were common place; why not a tender, intimate moment between friends that spanned the term? Best friends?

He smirked and sighed softly nearly at the same time—the sound coming out like an uummpphhyyeeaahhssss. Cole had often wondered about the two of them. About their relationship. They were tight friends. They were `really' tight. Always had been. Like him and Dustin. He couldn't help but wonder from time to time if Caleb and Hunter did the dick dive.

Or, for that matter—if they had ever pummeled the pucker region.

His smirk grew more sarcastic, and yet—admiring as he watched them, there in nearly the last row of the theater, in the dark ... alone until the closest couple—which actually, quick measurements all around, was Dustin and himself.

Obviously, he would have pocketed big bucks that, yes—they were doin' it. But, he apparently had the `it' backwards. He would have bet huge that if they `were' doin' it, Caleb was the one to be on his knees, or—getting pucker plowed.

Dustin went into one of his well-practiced moves—his tongue went up and over the leaking head of Cole's cock three times and gathered as much leakage as possible, then—he corkscrewed his way down that thick, pulsing shaft ... coating it completely with what his tongue had gathered and spread. Super slick, with that Cole manufactured lube, he slid into hyper-suck mode. Corkscrewing up and down, down and up ... his throat and mouth sucking with so much power that he could have sucked a missile out of a silo.

Cole's cock reacted just as Dustin planned—it throbbed and shuddered and spewed a continual river of that sweet juice from its slit—winking and almost smiling at him—and, it continued vibrating and pulsing and pumping deep inside his mouth.


Oh fuck—yeah.

"Dus... Oh, fuck ... that's ... so..." Gasp. Moan. Gasp. "Fuck that's good, buddy."

Another survey of the theater as he sank a little lower in his seat. The audience was spellbound by the action on the screen. The Earth Forces Brigade leader was toast. Lord Q'a and his #1 henchman—Prince Fug'am—were fucking Stryker Magnum's brains out. His brains, and—his very soul. Before they were through with him, Magnum would be nothing more than a mindless whore. A whore, ravenous for cock. His rapidly approaching new life, dedicated to serving and worshiping cock on his Master's command, or those lucky enough to be given Lord Q'a's favor.

Satisfied that all was still safe, Cole pivoted his head. He casually resumed his survey until Caleb came back into view. Even in the darkened theater it was clear—Caleb was sailing the sea of ecstasy. His eyes looked as though they were rolling back into the deepest recesses of his head. He was gasping. His chest—heaving. His cock—throbbing and driving in and out of Hunter's mouth and banging on the front door of his throat.

Cole smiled appreciatively. He knew `that' feeling. Caleb was about to flood Hunter's mouth with a boiling load of cum.

Yeah—he knew that feeling very well. Dustin could send him into a happy place like no other with that mouth ... that tongue ... those lips, and—that throat. And, to think—they owed it all to their girlfriends. Their girlfriends and a game of Truth or Dare that got way out of hand.

And what a dare it was. We dare you to make out with each other ... open mouth ... with tongue. Five minutes is good, we think...

Dustin's eyes went wide and cemented to Cole's. His, just as wide. You could have served a full course meal on his eyes at that moment, they were so dinner plate wide. Cole smirked. Dustin grinned. What the fuck. It was a dare. Right? They stepped up to one another. Cole winked. Dustin blushed but grinned. They stepped closer. Yeah. Fuck `em. And, they lip locked. They lip locked in earth shaking, iceberg melting, curtain of the universe ripping passion. It was the most electrifying, the most sensual, the most sexual, the most erotic thing any of the others gathered there for the game had ever seen in their lives.

It ... was ... epic.

The `moment of truth' was even more epic after everyone else was gone. The two of them sat on opposite ends of the couch—neither, sure what to say about the feelings that had erupted in their groins ... their brains ... their souls. What the hell had just happened? Where the hell did all this come from? Why did it feel so ... right?

Did they `need' to talk about it?

Did they `want' to talk about it?

They probably `should' talk about it.

But—`could' they talk about whatever it was that had just taken place, and—was still raging in both their hearts and souls, and—balls? Not to mention the throbbing bones between their legs.


Furtive glances.

Semi-hidden adjustments of bulging crotches.

A drink? Yeah. Yeah a drink. A drink would be good.

One followed the other followed the first who followed the second. Glasses. Ice. Drinks. No one would know about the drinks. House to themselves. Twitching knee. Fingers raking through hair.

A gulp.

A sip.

Another gulp.

A sip slid into a gulp.

Ice clinked at the bottom of glasses.

Glasses bounced and rolled on their sides along the countertop.

A chest touch.

A shoulder shrug.

The back of a hand along a cheek and chin.

What the fuck was going on, here?

Why the fuck did they want it to go on?

Crotch came in contact with crotch.

Chest snuggled to chest.

What the fuck, c'mere...

And, they kissed.

No truth.

No dare.

No girlfriends.

No ... no one.

Just Cole.

Just Dustin.


And, Cole.

They stepped into each other. They closed the gap so tightly that air was only a word in dictionaries. Their lips pressed and locked and separated and tongues grazed. They snorted and gasped and Dustin's shirt ended up in the open dishwasher. Cole's ... they found it much later on the 5th blade of the ceiling fan. Oops.

What are we...?

Shhh... Don't talk. Just ... do...


Go for it. Don't talk. Don't think.

Before either of them fully realized what the hell was going on, or—how, or—why—Cole's jeans were around his knees. His boxer briefs snuggled into the jeans. His throbbing, already drooling dick was pressed into Dustin's trail ... humping away.

And, then.

Dustin was on his knees. He was on his knees and he was devouring Cole's monster dick. Licking. Slurping. Sucking. Tugging. Pulling. Stroking. Squishing. Kissing. Dabbing into the slit.

Holy ... fuck!

It felt so good.

It felt so ... right.

And, here they were. Months and numerous blow jobs later. In a darkened movie theater with only the flickers and flashes and lightning bolts of light coming from the screen. Cole, with his pants around his ankles. Dustin on his knees. Blow job well underway and hurtling toward a thunderous climax and a torrent of spewing molten cum down his throat.

Another survey.

Still safe.

Cole looked back over his shoulder. Again.

He was still surprised.

Surprised? More like flabbergasted.

He was so positive it would be the other way around if the two of them got it goin' down. Hunter's big dick would be shimmering and glistening with spit and goo, with Caleb on his knees. Even now, with Caleb's cock fucking down into Hunter's throat, Cole still could not shake the feeling that was the way it should be. Caleb was the one that should be on his knees. Caleb was the one that should have his legs spread and his hole waiting to be ravaged.

Man, Caleb was beautiful.

Fuck—he would love to sink his monster cock into that mouth. To claim it. To own it. To possess it completely. Flood it with his load and bury his cock to the balls—forcing Caleb to take it and swallow it. Swallow ... every ... last ... drop.

Go figure. Dustin had even mentioned it a few times. How hot it would be to watch Caleb on his knees, sucking and slurping—worshiping—Cole's huge cock.


Caleb on his back. Rolled up onto his shoulders. Caleb's knees pressed firmly against the floor ... on the ground ... into the mattress—knees, up against his ears. His tight pucker winking and trembling in anticipation. Dripping with anticipation, and—deep preparation. Waiting for what was to come.

And, then...

That pucker yielding. Giving way. Spreading open. Taking Cole's enormous cock.

Taking it.

Being ravaged by it.

Being bred by it.

Becoming bitch-hungry for it.

Maybe, even—Dustin had continued in his fantasy—while Cole was fucking Caleb into pureed goo mush, Dustin could be feeding his own impressively sized manhood into Caleb's mouth ... fucking it into his throat. Blasting copious amounts of his cum into him and laying claim all his own alongside Cole...

Caleb Stillwater ... spit-roasted.




Talk about hot. That vision sizzled and popped.

Now, to just figure out how to make that scene happen for real...

Caleb gasped. His body twitched once ... twice ... ten, eleven ... thirteen times as his orgasm took over his soul and erupted down Hunter's throat like a volcano...

Cole knew.

Holy fuck did he know.

He was blowing his wad down Dustin's throat here—now—in perfect sync with Caleb's orgasm.




He had to find a way to get Caleb on his knees. On his knees, or better yet—on his back with that magnificent butt facing the ceiling ... that sweetly winking pucker dripping and trembling and waiting for his drooling throbber to spread it open and plunge deep inside. At the same time, Dustin sliding his thick cock into that mouth. Using those perfect lips. Burying it in Caleb's throat.






He copied Caleb's move from earlier; he lifted Dustin upward and planted a kiss on his forehead. Good job, buddy.


Caleb was one of his closest, most lifelong dearest friends, but...


The sizzle was etching that vision in his brain.

Spit-Roasting Caleb Stillwater.




So ... very...

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