’sup with you, dude?
© 2016
by
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.
Reggie Cooke shifted his gaze from the road out beyond the windshield of his gleaming metallic black pickup. He looked to his right and studied his best friend in the passenger seat.
God—he loved Cayce.
Honestly? He couldn’t think of anyone that he knew—had ‘ever’ known—that he loved more—his younger brothers notwithstanding. It seemed that an unbreakable connection between them had been linked, synced and sealed while they were still in their respective wombs years ago. They had been born moments apart in adjoining delivery rooms … Reggie, 45 seconds ahead of Cayce.
And, to coin a much overused phrase—the rest was history.
They had been best friends ever since; even before either of them knew what ‘best friend’ meant or all that went with it. Being the ‘elder’ in this pairing, Reggie always felt the need to lead, teach, mentor, guide, protect, coerce, finagle—even blackmail if needed—his friend through life.
He knew that he would die for Cayce. He knew that he would kill for Cayce. And, he knew Cayce felt the same way. Only problem with an ‘I’d die for you’ pact like that was that it would mean one or the other of them would be left behind—alone. Maybe they better stick to ‘killing’ for each other if needed and leave the ‘dying’ to someone else; someone, not in this arrangement.
After he had taken several moments to study his unusually quiet friend, he shifted his eyes back to the road. He snorted inwardly and shook his head. Something sure as hell was up. Cayce had not uttered a single word since they got into the truck after the game.
Tombstones were cacophonous compared to this.
Yeah.
For sure.
Something was up.
It was as clear as the inky darkness of the night. Okay, well—it sounded good in his mind. Like he had any control over his brain, or—the barely contained imagination inside it. Satisfied that the road was still there—beyond the front of the truck where it belonged—he looked back across the interior of the Tundra.
Silence.
Cayce wasn’t talking. At all. So, yeah—something was up.
Now—to just ‘find’ the best avenue to pry it out of him…. What would be his best move, here?
Cayce Foster rolled his eyes as he stared out the passenger window. He could feel Reggie’s golden-flecked puppy dog brown eyes on him. Even in the dark night … inside the dark truck cab … he could feel Reggie all over him. He had always ‘felt’ Reggie. For as long as he could remember. He would almost have bet anything … everything … that he had that somehow, some way, they were identical twins with that psychic linkage. Well, okay. If you didn’t count different parents, different hair and eye color, different personalities, differ…. Okay, anyway. He ‘felt’ Reggie on him right here, right now, here in the truck.
Great.
Reggie was boring holes into his head right now trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Somehow Reggie had the uncanny ability to drive safely, while alternately watching the road and trying to laser his way into Cayce’s brain. Good luck with that one.
He sighed inwardly, knowing he wasn’t doing a very good job of covering himself. As if ‘any’ cover, ‘any’ time, would do ‘any’ good when put up against the unstoppable, undistractible, undeterrable ‘force’ known as Reggie Cooke.
His best friend read him like a free downloadable romance novel on a tablet. He always had. He probably always would.
Damn him!
Reggie nodded his approval that the road was doing its job. Still there, obediently spreading out before them.
He turned to glance at Cayce—staring out through the heavily tinted side window into the countryside as it whooshed past them. Lost in thought; not unlike he had been during the game. Not unlike most of the last ten days or so, to be honest.
Reggie looked back out the windshield and focused on the road, the center buttons glowing brightly as they flashed past them in a steady, seemingly endless ribbon that stretched out before the truck. Without looking away from the road, he fisted his right hand and then reached across the cab to pop his best friend’s bicep.
“‘sup with you, dude?”
Cayce Foster reached up to rub his just-attacked bicep.
Ow.
He broke his gaze out of the passenger window, turned his head to look across the truck interior that was shrouded in darkness—the only light coming from the glowing embers of the instrument console. He sucked in air. God—he loved the scents that enveloped him when he got into this truck … leather that Reggie had paid extra for. Good choice. It felt good, like butter welcoming him inside…. Yeah, buttery leather enveloping and caressing and welcoming … inviting and enticing, and—it smelled even better. Rich, buttery leather and—Reggie. His cologne. His … ‘him.’ They should bottle Reggie’s essence. He’d mortgage the farm to buy 18-wheelers full of Eau de Reggie.
“Nothing,” he responded finally. He took a shot at throwing out a bewildered expression. “Why?”
Reggie shrugged. He looked across the cab and then back to the road. Back again. Back to the road … again.
God—he loved Cayce but sometimes…. Sometimes it would be easier to talk to a wall. For sure easier to get anything out of a concrete block! Funny that thought. More like lead-lined, concrete wall with titanium sealant.
Come to think of it, he had that jackhammer in the back of the truck….
Best friend, dude. Best friend. Don’t go there. Back it up, here … back it up.
Yeah—he should save the jackhammer for a last ditch assault.
He considered Cayce’s question.
Why?
What why?
Oh—why was Reggie calling Cayce out on … whatever the fuck it was. Yeah, backing it up to reality.
“I don’t know. You just seem … lost … or….”
Cayce shot one of those disarming smiles and a twinkle comet’d across his eyes.
“No. Not lost. I’m right here in your truck, dude.”
Snort.
Eye roll.
Sigh.
Reggie shook his head.
Maybe I ‘should’ pull over and grab that jackhammer.
The blond fireman just kept on without being stopped in his tracks by Cayce’s retort.
“…something. You were really quiet during the game; you kinda kept to yourself. Most everyone noticed it,” he advised—picture hands on hips and brow raised, except, well…. He was driving 75 mph down a highway in the dark so that would be a little dangerous, he guessed.
“Even Chaz and Brody noticed and those two are so self-centered they don’t normally notice anyone other than themselves.”
Okay, well at least that got a chortle from across the cab.
“‘Naturally’, you won the game … like always—our usual superstar—but….” Reggie paused in his observations as he changed lanes to avoid a possum. God—he hated possums, but, well … possums were people, too.
Rearview mirror check.
Reggie’s head tilted.
He could swear he saw that possum flip him the bird, er, claw.
Moving back to the other lane once the living, breathing obstacle was behind them, he shook his head again.
“I don’t know. Just seems like something is on your mind. You ‘do’ know that I’ve got your back in all things, right? Need me to rough somebody up and let ‘em know who’s boss?”
Cayce chuckled at that. Yeah—Reggie would do that for him if he asked. Or, even if Cayce didn’t ask but he found reason to jump on whatever it was. Great. Now he had to come up with a good lie to cover himself. Or—he ‘could’ tell the truth.
The truth?
Novel idea.
Yeah, if only he ‘could’ go there.
The ‘first’ person he should be able to go to for any reason—even ‘this’ reason—was also the ‘last’ person he could go to in this case. That person? Reggie. How messed up was that?
Well, see, Reg, it’s … like … this….
What was bugging him? The problem? Well, not really a ‘problem’ as long as it stayed where it had been buried for years; however, it had worked its way to the front of his deep, dark closet recently. Again. And it was getting more and more insistent that it be allowed to come out, now, or at the very, very, ‘very’ least—sooner than later. Yeah, the ‘later train’ had left the station and was out of sight.
The closet.
Yeah—that fucking closet.
The problem.
‘That’ problem.
‘That’ problem was pushing and kicking and maneuvering its way to the door, ready to kick its way out into the light of day. Or, in this case—the dark of night. Fucking problem. What the Hell did it think it was doing? Coming to the forefront once again from the darkest depths of his soul, as a result of a late night ‘pull-in’ at a rest area.
It had been one of those rare occasions when Reggie’s schedule conflicted. He’d been called in to cover the rest of a shift for another firefighter who went home sick. As a Deputy Sheriff, Cayce totally understood. Sometimes their schedules just didn’t match up. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t miss hanging with his lifelong best friend.
While Cayce had been out and about, trying to decide what to do on his own, he remembered an invite to a party two towns over. Jennifer had agreed to go. Jennifer had decided not to go. Jennifer had asked what time he was picking her up to go. Then, Jennifer had said she’d rather go out with her bff’s.
Fine.
He’d go alone.
Jennifer had laughed at that. Cayce didn’t do ‘alone’ very well.
Fine.
She’d make an appearance and then leave with her friends.
Fine.
She got there and left before he’d even finished with his shower and getting dressed.
Fine.
Whatever.
Fine … fucking … whatever….
Cayce Foster pushed the door open and walked inside. Heads turned. Jaws dropped. Brows rivaled the ‘Golden Arches’ in their geometric skyrocketing. Handshakes. Fist bumps. Buddy hugs. Girls cheek kissed him and lingered a few seconds longer … their hands, lips, anything they could manage drifted and slid.
“Cayce?”
“Foster!”
“Hey sweet stuff … drink?”
“Dude, good to see you….”
“Cayce Foster? Alone? At a party? So it was ‘Hell’ that put in that order for ear muffs and long johns, huh?”
And the comments and questions kept flowing like a keg with a broken spicket.
“Cayce Foster? Here? Alone?”
“What, no Reggie?”
“Where’s Reggie?”
“You came alone?”
“You came without Reggie?”
Bromance had been bantered about amongst the partiers.
“You guys okay? Bromance on the rocks? What happened?”
Bromance?
Seriously?
They were best friends, yes. They loved each other immensely. They would kill for each other. But, seriously…? Bromance? Yeah. Right. Um, not even.
Bromance?
How funny was that?
Well, maybe they had a point … up to a certain point. Maybe.
Except, there was no ‘mance.’
They were just ‘bros’ and that was all. Right?
Sure, they lived, breathed, ate, drank, slept, athleticized … everything’d together since they were knee-high to an ant’s butt, but….
Bromance? Sheah! Right.
Just wait ‘til he told Reggie about that. That should be good for quite a bellow and hoot.
So there he was. At a party. Alone. Reggie on duty. Jennifer didn’t even wait for him. Jennifer didn’t wait for anything or anyone. Jennifer preferred to be out with a few of the girls. Jennifer had come, gone, and was not looking back, from all indications.
Great.
Just … friggin’ … great.
His responses got shorter by the minute. More … robotic.
“He had to work tonight.”
“I’m here … alone.”
“You got it.”
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Yep.”
God—was he that pathetic? Pushing twenty-three years old and nobody thought he could make it on his own? Even here at a lame-assed party?
Okay.
Yeah.
Technically? Sure he was alone. At a party surrounded by 40-plus people, most of whom he had known most of his life. He had even been hit on. More than once. He had been felt up from every direction at one point or another, or—another, or—another. Even by a guy. Well, he was almost positive that was a hit and feel. But he was a little buzzed by that point. And, in all fairness … it was kinda crowded and everyone was jockeying for position and meandering room. But, the guy blushed almost immediately when he looked at him after that. And, he was watching Cayce the rest of the time that Cayce was there; he looked away quickly every time that Cayce glanced his way. But, maybe it was his imagination … the drinks … the other drinks….
By half past midnight, sex was everywhere. A small orgy in the hot tub. He was unsure what the hell was going on in the big glass-walled walk-in shower in the master suite. He decided maybe he shouldn’t find out, considering….
So there he was, on the way home at 2:00 A.M. when he felt a pressing need to relieve the aftereffects of that party. He pulled off the highway and slid between several 18-wheelers and motor homes, trucks and cars….
He had been astounded at the number of vehicles in the rest area at that time of night. But then again, a heavy fog was beginning to blanket the area. Maybe people were just being cautious and elected to pull over and wait it out rather than keep driving into it. Especially along this stretch of the Interstate, there were some sharp curves and deep ravines alongside. It could be a dangerous drive on the best of days or nights, worse on nights like this was shaping up to be.
As he stood at a urinal, letting the party flow from his dick to the blue cake in the bottom of the porcelain bowl, a gasp and moan caught his ear. His head tilted. That ‘was’ what he heard, right? There it was … again. A gasp. And, another—followed by a moan. He looked to his left. Nothing but empty urinals. He looked to his right, toward the partitioned stalls. He saw a pair of feet at an awkward angle, as if someone was sitting or even standing over the toilet. It was more like they were facing the next partition than anything else. Maybe the circus was passing through and a contortionist was taking care of business? No. There weren’t any circus trucks outside.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Yeah, just like that,” drifted through the silence of the men’s room.
Another gasp. Another moan.
Cayce finished his business. He shook once, twice, a third time and tucked his dick back inside his jeans. He didn’t flush but rather, quietly moved across the room to the door of the first stall where the ‘contortionist’ was located and he listened. Another moan. Another gasp. And then, more. Squishing. Slurping. A different moan. A different tone. He moved to the next stall and peered through the crack between door and jamb.
His eyes went wide and he barely stifled a moan of his own. There was a guy inside the stall. On his knees. Facing the partition. And, there was a dick. A very hard, very long, very thick dick sticking through a carefully carved hole in the metal. It looked like the edges of the circle were coated with something smooth and thick to cover the sharp edges. That cock was glistening and dripping, and—sliding in and out of the kneeling guy’s mouth.
Holy fuck!
“They really do exist,” Cayce had whispered to himself.
He had heard of glory holes but had never actually seen one. Not even when he’d been away at college with Reggie. He had heard there were a couple around campus—the restaurant in the basement of the chapel, the 5th floor restroom of the Admin building … the library 3rd floor restroom….
He had been curious, but scared too. He had desperately wanted to explore, but he had kept the closet door locked tight, hiding his deepest, darkest desires for such a long time. What if Reggie had found out? He’d die if Reggie walked away from their friendship because he couldn’t keep it in his pants, or—couldn’t keep some other guy’s in his.
Yeah, he had heard of one but he had never ‘seen’ one. Certainly not one actually ‘in use’.
But.
Here it was.
An actual glory hole.
Not only that, a glory hole that was in use for its intended purpose. His jeans were suddenly much too tight.
He watched in rapt attention as that cock slid in and out of the guy’s mouth. Glistening. Dripping. Saliva and dick juice flowing and puddling on the floor between the kneeling guy’s knees.
Damn, he wished he could see the guy on the other end. The one getting the blow job. He’d love to see his expression. His abs constricting and relaxing with each stroke in, and—back. Each slurp and suck and blow and lick and….
Damn. Fucking angle. He couldn’t see without making it ‘real’ obvious that he was trying to look through the crack between the door and the jamb. Yeah, with his job? That would look real good on his resume—public sex peeping Cayce. As it was, he was danged lucky no one had come in and noticed what he was doing.
Wow, fuck.
A glory hole.
A blow jobbing glory hole.
Just a few miles from his house and the farm and … town….
Damn.
Damn.
Damn!
How had he lived here—his entire life, basically—and didn’t know about this? Especially with that living, breathing, kicking creature trying to savage its way through the closet door that he was trying so very hard to keep locked, bolted, chained, barricaded, chair-propped under the knob….
Damn.
Damn.
Damn!
Cayce had been walking around in a daze ever since that night. A daze, and with a throbbing bone between his legs that just … would … not … quit. Lost in thought. Dreaming at night about that cock and the guy’s mouth and the copious flood of cum at the end of the glory hole’d blow job. Dreaming at night and daydreaming the rest of the time.
That damned closet. That damned closet door. It took a different shape in his mind after that encounter. It was more a closet and door that looked like a bathroom stall, with a partition that had a hole in it.
And here he was, now—sitting beside his best friend as they drove down the road. Thinking. Lost. And now he had to figure out a way to respond to Reggie’s question without responding to Reggie’s question, or—tell the truth.
Cayce was drawn out of his thoughts by Reggie’s syrupy velvet voice enveloping him in the darkness.
“… like you’re lost in space or something.”
Snort and chortle.
“Nope. Left my space ship back in the barn, dude,” the twenty-two year old deputy said with a forced grin. He reached up to run his fingers through his thick coal black hair and returned his gaze out into the dark night.
“Funny guy,” Reggie said with another fist pop to his friend’s bicep. Something was sure as hell going on tonight. In fact, come to think of it, whatever ‘it’ was, it had been going on for days. He looked back and forth a few times between the road and his best friend, his face scrunching in a growing lack of comprehension and definite concern.
If there was one thing about Cayce, it was his usual intensity—be it his confidence, his sense of humor. Confidence, leadership, you name it—it was Cayce Foster. He had shown his excellence in leadership and confidence early on, through high school and college sports, and now in his role as a well-liked deputy sheriff.
Confidence and leadership to a fault maybe. More than once Reggie shook his head and told Cayce he was nuts for being a cop. It was a lot safer to fight fires as Reggie did or take on the occasional wild beast attacks of a piece of farm equipment. Combines and tractors could be ornery critters, especially the older ones.
Something was definitely wrong here, whether Cayce was willing to admit it or not. This just wasn’t the Cayce that he had known his entire life. Maybe there was trouble at home? At work? Jennifer? Yeah, maybe Jennifer.
He had heard that they had missed each other that night at the party a couple weeks ago. In fact, she had left with a few of her girlfriends for a girls’ night out instead of waiting for Cayce. She hadn’t been at the game cheering them on this afternoon. In fact, Cayce hadn’t mentioned her name lately. Had he? No, he was fairly sure her name hadn’t come up. He would remember ‘any’ mention of Jennifer.
Reggie cringed every time her name came up or she entered his line of vision. She was not on his Top 5 List. Top 5? Not even in the Top 50,000,000. But there had always been a connection … as bewildering as it was … between Jennifer and Cayce. And, well, Cayce was, well—Cayce. He supported Cayce no matter what. Even when it concerned … her.
“So…. You wanna grab some grub? Pizza? Mexican? Burgers? That new oriental place—Thai Won On, or whatever it is? Probably not as good as The Kitchen of Asia but then almost nothing could be….”
Seconds ticked away without a response.
“Valentino’s is having Steak Night in addition to the usual menu.”
Total silence at the mention of food? Cayce had hollow legs. Silence in the face of some thick juicy steaks? Something must really have Cayce rattled.
“Cayce?”
“I….”
Okay—finally some indication that he was still on the planet. Or at least back from wherever he was. Sure, it was only one word but it was something, anyway.
“You…?”
“Yeah, man. That sounds good,” Cayce said with another quick look across the truck cab. He forced a smile and a nod. Damn but Reggie looked good tonight. Reggie ‘always’ looked good but tonight he was just flowing with his sexuality and sensuality like crazy.
Cayce’s steel gray eyes moved slowly downward from that incredibly handsome face topped by buzzed dark blond hair, to a chest that was so incredibly poured into a snow white tee that it looked more like the material had been sprayed on. The nub of one of his nips clearly outlined by the soft material. Downward still—he focused on that rock hard abdomen and then his eyes rested on the massive mound in a pair of well-worn jeans.
Jeans so tight … so well worn … that he could actually make out the ridge around the head of Reggie’s thick cock. And, it was thick. Very … very … thick. Thick and long. He wondered what it would have been like to have watched Reggie’s monster sliding through the glory hole into that guy’s mouth. He swallowed nervously and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He tore his eyes from that mouthwatering sight and the promises it contained and looked out the windshield.
As he stared back out into the inky night, he thought back to ‘that’ night. Again. That rest stop men’s room. That glory hole. The guy in the second stall, on his knees—slurping and sucking on a thick, drooling cock. The flood of cum that poured out of his mouth, too much for him to swallow. He shifted nervously again. His cock remembered, too. It was swelling painfully in his jeans. Throbbing like a jackhammer. Great, just what he needed right now. Throwing a bone in front of Reggie.
Reggie.
Gorgeous, granite muscled, hung like a horse … Reggie. Cayce felt a shudder work its way through his body as his tongue made a dry pass across his lips, like sandpaper scratching over a slab of rough-hewn lumber.
Reggie frowned. Was that a yes or a no? He really didn’t have a clue. He smirked and turned to his buddy.
“Just to clarify, was that yes pizza? Yes Mexican? Yes burgers? Yes Thai food…?” Another fist pop to the bicep and a teasing wink. “Yes, Valentino’s Steak Night? Or, should we just forego the bother of a restaurant and go barbecue a horse?”
Cayce couldn’t help it. He laughed. Reggie always teased him about how much food he packed away. Even when they were both teenaged eating machines. He shook his head and looked back across the truck cab; strange, his eyes went straight to that bulge in Reggie’s jeans rather than to his face. Yeah, maybe eating a horse tonight would be good. With considerable effort, he tore his eyes off that big mound in his best friend’s crotch and looked up. Reggie was staring at him intently.
Crap! No way he didn’t notice where my eyes lingered.
“You got a spare horse handy?”
“I got your horse right here,” Reggie said with a teasing grin as he grabbed his huge cock and tugged.
“What … ever … dude,” Cayce laughed nervously and shifted in his seat. He could feel the slight blush staining his cheeks. “Yeah, man—whatever you want is good. I’m so hungry … I’ll eat anything you put in front of me right now.”
Especially if it’s attached to you.
Reggie tugged at the crotch of his jeans a few more times and looked back to the road. “Damn, whatever’s got your nuts bunched tonight must be a big one.”
You have no idea, bro. You have no idea.
Cayce glanced down at that impressive bulge again and wondered just how big Reggie’s monster got when it was hard. He’d seen it a thousand times over in showers, locker rooms, sleepovers…. He’d seen its outline in the darkness a few times when Reggie had thrown a bone in his sleep but, alas, there was no ruler or tape measure in sight … or—a yard stick. A ruler probably wouldn’t be long enough.
As soon as the words passed through his lips, Cayce seriously considered hitting the button to lower the window and jump out, even at 75 mph. In that instant, there was no way to stop the words from flowing.
“Have you ever had sex … with another guy?”
END of Chapter 1
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