Dude, Are You Serious?
Copyright © 2015 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.
The moment that Lane Burkeholder watched Ellis Blackwell strut through the front doors of B&T’s, he reached for one of his stainless steel shakers and began mixing fresh-squeezed lemonade and cherry syrup. He threw in a half scoop of crushed ice, snapped the stainless cap in place and began shaking. He knew what Ellis wanted. Strange that Dillon Jamison was not with Ellis but he supposed it could be any number of things. Once he had shaken the Lemon Cherry Bomb to the point that the canister was simply too cold to keep in his hands, he set it on the counter and waited for the kid to finish talking to his uncle—Cayce Foster.
Finally, they exchanged hugs and the Sheriff’s deputy came in his direction. Their eyes linked. Grins spread. They had known one another their entire lives. They had been friends for as long as he could remember.
As Foster approached the counter and reached for his wallet, his move was blocked by a palm flat-fisting the air.
“You know better than that, Cayce,” Burkeholder said through a toothy grin. “Your money’s no good here, bro.”
The deputy smiled and released his wallet, letting it slide back into his uniform pants. He stopped between two stools there at the counter and reached out a fist—met by Lane’s—and they bumped.
“You’re a good man, Lane,” Cayce offered with a grin that mirrored the B&T’s owner’s tooth for tooth. “You’ll never get rich if you keep giving it away, though.”
Oh the retorts he could make on that one. But, they’d all probably get him slammed over the counter and cuffed, and….
Huh, then again….
Okay. Maybe he should let that one slide before he ‘really’ got into trouble here.
“The nephew looks a little off center tonight,” Burkeholder said as he nodded over the deputy’s shoulder where Ellis Blackwell stood watching them. Again—still?—he noted the worship in Ellis’ eyes toward the deputy.
Cayce Foster looked back over his shoulder for a moment, caught Ellis’ gaze and winked—which drew an almost shy smile out of the bull stud—and then he returned his attention to Lane Burkeholder. He shook his head slowly. With all of his alphatudinal bull studness, Ellis was slightly off center when he wasn’t side-by-side with Dillon. He could not really fault the kid for that; there had been more than one time in his own life that he found himself off-kilter without Reggie within arm’s reach.
Ellis raked his fingers through his blond waves before he turned to study Whitney Lancaster Sterling-Middleton. They exchanged another silent nod. Did Whitney just lick his lips? Yeah, probably salt slurpin’ after one of Mr. B’s famous onion rings. Next, he turned his attention to Ryan McGregor and Bennett Brownley.
“He’s fine,” the deputy said finally. “His trusty sidekick is out of touch tonight and he’s not quite sure what to do with himself.”
Lane Burkeholder nodded his understanding.
“Seems to be a theme, tonight.”
Cayce’s head tilted in silent question.
Nod behind the deputy.
“Ryan and Bennett came in sans Charley Stockton and they both seemed a little perplexed as well. I told them that Charley had been in a few hours ago and loaded up an ice chest and then slid in a dozen bottles of pop. Nothing seemed out of sorts.” He shrugged again. “Maybe he just needed some oneness for a while, or—went ‘dadin.”
Cayce Foster glanced over his shoulder and studied his nephew, still standing where he had left him, and then focused on the two boys that Lane was talking about. He looked back and grinned—again.
“Maybe Dillon and Charley stood them all up and are out partying amongst themselves.”
The B&T’s owner nodded and started to comment that it wouldn’t hurt Ellis to work on a few other friendships from time to time—not to mention, Ryan and Bennett—but the deputy beat him to it.
“Of course, it wouldn’t hurt Ellis to expand his position a little. He could use more than one genuine friend and sometimes I think he’d be totally lost without Dillon. Whether he ever admitted to that possibility or not.”
Lane nodded. That would be ‘one’ explanation. Although, he could come up with a couple of others, too. He for sure had one ‘other explanation’ for Ryan and Bennett; however, he had no tangible proof to back it up. And, to be honest, he had some thoughts about Deputy Cayce’s nephew, too. He glanced down at those cuffs on his waist. Yeah, keep that to himself, too.
And, it didn’t matter anyway. His judgment train didn’t run down those tracks. Especially considering, well….
“Coffee for the road?” Before he got an answer, Burkeholder turned toward the gurgling coffee maker behind him.
Once Cayce Foster had stepped back out into the sweltering, humid night—jug of coffee and 64 ounces of Lemon Cherry Bomb in hand—Ellis checked his cell phone—again. Still no texts or calls. He looked at Whitney, who was staring at him. The other teen blushed and dove back into his tablet. Ellis rolled his eyes. Whitney was so good looking, so well put together, such a nice dude. He ‘really’ needed an infusion of nut goo. He wondered why he was concerned about Whitney getting his nut.
After a brief perusal of Mitzi and her crew, he looked over at Ryan and Bennett. They were watching him. They grinned and chin jutted. He took a deep breath, let it sizzle through his teeth, and then headed in their direction.
Ryan scooted deeper into his side of the booth and he and Bennett both gestured for Ellis to have a seat.
“Nada mucho, hombre,” Bennett said with a slightly more than usual Texas Hill Country drawl. “Just enjoying the free A/C, thanks to Mr. Burkeholder.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “Even at this time of night, it’s still a blast furnace out there.”
Ellis nodded in agreement and glanced toward the counter. Yeah, the A/C felt good right now but it would be even better if…. Aahhh. God, he loved that man. He was pouring a fresh Lemon Cherry Bomb over a huge frosted mug filled with crushed ice. He tossed in a handful of Maraschino cherries, and….
Frosted mug delivered. Refills for Ryan and Bennett sitting in front of them. Lane Burkeholder moved on over to refill Whitney’s glass. A wink and shoulder clutch drew a puppy dog smile and a blush across the cheeks. Whitney’s dimples deepened and his eyes followed Burkeholder all the way back to the counter area.
It was almost comical that the questions poured out of all three of their mouths at the same time and crashed into each other over the center of the table.
“You guys seen Dillon?”
“Haven’t see Charley, have you?”
“Cross paths with Charley anywhere?”
Ryan and Bennett knew the answer to their questions already. The texts between Ryan and Charley had cleared that up. Yeah, clear as mud. But, they protected his privacy by acting like they had no idea. In Dillon’s case, they actually had no idea.
Bennett’s face contorted in thought for a moment.
“I thought I saw your new ride over at The Bent Horn Billiards & Bowl a while ago?”
Spine shiver down.
Spine shiver up.
“Dillon was supposed to meet me over there. We were gonna shoot a few and then bowl a few. He never showed. He hasn’t answered his calls or texts. I thought maybe he ended up here somehow, but….”
All three of them looked in Whitney’s direction when his cell began emitting a piece of Ravel’s Bolero. Seriously, dude? Romance and grinding sexual innuendo and…. They grinned. So not what they would expect out of Whitney, even if he was gorgeous.
“So you got ditched.”
Moving right along….
“No. Sorry. I haven’t seen Charley since practice after school.” Ellis speared one of the cherries from the mug with his straw. He munched. He swallowed. “So, you guys are just hangin’ and I’m interrupting your hang.”
“My hang is just fine, thank you very much,” Bennett said
Before Ellis had a chance to respond to that comment, Ryan chimed in.
“We’re trying to figure out who to hook up with for sex. You know, we’re two All-American stud muffins with ragin’ boners—out on the prowl.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard.”
Ryan and Bennett exchanged bewildered looks. Huh?
Ellis shrugged as he paused in his straw marauding and spooned a load of the now Lemon Cherry Bomb flavored ice into his mouth. He crunched and swallowed.
“Well, you know….” Spoonful of ice. “You’re two of the best looking stud doggies in the quad-county area. You’ve got bodies most guys would kill for. I’ve taken enough showers with you two over the years to know you’re both equipped for the long haul.”
Ryan and Bennett exchanged surprised looks this time. Really? Ellis Blackwell just gave them a compliment?
“The two of you are hot as fuck. Get over it.”
Ryan choked on his soda. Bennett’s brow rose so high and so fast that it nearly hit the ceiling. He was the first to recover from the shock of that comment and as Ellis actually performed a humanitarian move and slapped Ryan’s back a few times to help with the choking, he inflated his balls and pursued the comment.
“You think?” He paused to hand some napkins to Ryan to wipe the burst of choke tears. “‘You’ think we’re hot as fuck?”
Ellis’ hand eased up on the back slaps and slid into a soothing rub for a few moments. He glanced across the table to Bennett.
“Dude, you two are hot as fuck, like I said. You drip with it.” Ryan showing signs that he would live, he withdrew his hand from his classmate’s back. “Hell, if I was one of the women around here, I’d be all over it with either of you. Any time. Any where. Hell, if I was one of the queer dogs I’d be begging for the bone.”
Ah. There was the Ellis that they were used to. Back to the alphatudinal homojerkoff.
“Like you’d know what to do with it even if you were one of the ‘queer dogs’,” Bennett challenged.
Ryan’s eyes rolled. Fuck. Bennett had to go there? He just couldn’t let it go, could he?
“So, you have any prospects?” Ellis asked. He chose not to chase ‘that’ bone that Bennett had just tossed out there. “If so, can I watch?”
This time, Ryan and Bennett both choked.
“Seriously? ‘You’d’ want to watch us spit roast it up?” Bennett’s question was heavily tinged with challenge. “Even if it was with a … dude?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. Again. Yeah, just keep digging deeper into it there, buddy. Just keep digging deeper into it.
Ellis stopped ice crunching. His head tilted.
“Yeah, you know,” Bennett said nonchalantly. “‘Spit … roasting.’”
Ellis wondered if he looked as bewildered as he felt right now.
“Spit … roasting…? So if you don’t get laid, you’re gonna barbecue even though you just finished eating?”
Ryan put an arm around Ellis’ shoulders and drew near to his ear. He knew better than to let Bennett answer that question. He’d get them thrown out of B&T’s. He inhaled deeply before he spoke. Yeah, Ellis smelled great. Ellis smelled really, really great.
“Um, spit roasted,” he began. “In this context.” His head popped up like a prairie dog’s and he studied the area. Okay, yeah, he could continue as long as he didn’t pull a megaphone out from a secret compartment in the wall there behind the booth. “Spit roasted, as in … say … my cock in our prey’s mouth … and … Bennett’s cock buried deep in the other end. You know, um … mouth stuffed and butt banged. Ergo … spit roasted.”
Fuck and wow.
Wow and fuck.
That was a hot vision.
Why was that a hot vision?
Yeah, that was the question of the moment. Why was that such a hot vision?
Ellis felt his more than amply stuffed crotch get a lot tighter. Tighter, and—suddenly much more uncomfortable.
“If you two put that together, please let me watch. I’ll even pay for the privilege.”
Bennett jumped on that one. What the hell. Ellis probably wouldn’t pound them into the dirt right here, inside B&T’s.
“I dunno, man,” he said with a devil’s smirk. “I’m not sure you’re man enough to handle a spit roaster your first time in the rodeo with me and Ryan.”
Okay, that was a hell of a challenge. Ellis put down his sucked-to-the-bottom mug and grinned back across the table.
“I can handle it,” he said confidently. “I can handle anything you guys throw at me.”
Ryan and Bennett looked at each other. Brows rose and fell. Rose again. Fell, again. They looked back at Ellis and a smirk creased Bennett’s handsome face.
END of Chapter 9
To be continued . . .
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