Goin’ Down In Four Horse Crossing

© 2017


Jonathan Longhorn

Copyright © 2017 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.

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Chapter 4

Brandon’s eyes rolled as he slid his still smoking debit card into its slot in his wallet and then into the back pocket of his cords. He stared at the mountain of drinks, food, and snacks piled onto a tray waiting for him as the girl behind the counter slid it in his direction.

Well, it wasn’t like Nate hadn’t warned him. Right?

4 64-ounce drinks—2 Dr Pepper, 1 Big Red, and 1 Coke.

9 Slices of pizza—4 kitchen sinks, 2 beef only, 2 pepperoni only, 1 meat smorgasbord.

8 Hot Dogs—4 with chili and cheese, 2 with just chili, 2 plain dogs with mustard and relish.

3 Burgers—1 with chili and cheese, 1 with the works, 1 with mayo and relish.

2 Large Nacho boats—bean and beef, extra cheese, and—with the jalapeno slices on the side.

4 hot buttered and salted popcorn monster buckets.

3 boxes of Gummy Bears.

4 King-Size Butterfingers.

2 enormous dill pickles.

3 boxes of Junior Mints.

4 large bags of M&Ms.

He figured by the time they were halfway through the movie, he’d have a ‘brand’ from his red hot debit card permanently emblazoned on his left butt cheek. He wondered if it would work if he swiped his butt cheek sometime. Huh. He’d have to try that. Well, if he could find a place to drop his pants next to a scanner, and….

Okay, in all fairness, some of that elephant choker tray of food was his. But, still….

Stacey McCollum smiled sweetly as she slid the candy bars, bags, and boxes into a large sack for him. She blushed profusely when he smiled back.

“You must be really hungry, Brandon,” she giggled as she reached across the counter to hook the bag handles over his wrist and then lifted her eyes to meet him. “Coach Brookshire is working you way too hard.”

Brandon laughed. He didn’t really say who it was all for. Something told him that he didn’t have to say anything. He had a feeling that nothing much escaped Stacey. He decided to just let her feed off of her imagination.

“Well, you know us growin’ boys, Stacey.”



Absolutely amazing.

Brandon had remembered each of their orders—perfectly—right down to condiment packets. He had remembered full ice, light ice, no ice. Everything. Perfectly. Without taking notes.

Must be that ‘quarterback playbook’ mentality kinda thing.

Bobby, Nate, and Jake were astounded. Nate had jokingly—sort of—told him that as a result of that ultimate waiter mode that he had just displayed, he had successfully completed the 3rd level task for membership into their ‘inner circle’.

“Third level?”

Bobby nodded. He made a sweeping gesture.

“Level 1,” he said. “You had the balls to go out with us. No outward signs of fear for your safety.”



And, grin.

Brandon laughed.

“You guys are nuts but I doubt you’re dangerous.” He sipped at his drink and then added. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Fist bumps all around. Well, as much of a fist bump as any of them could produce with so much food in their laps and on the snack bar tray and balanced on the seat rests between them.

Before he could ask, Brandon’s next question was answered by Nate.

“In case you’re wondering,” Nate said after popping several Junior Mints into his mouth as a buttered popcorn chaser. “Level 2 of your journey into the inner circle is putting up with us ‘and’ laughing at our jokes, wise cracks, and other unmentionable antics.”

This last comment was followed by poorly executed seal barks and nyuk nyuk moves. Brandon shook his head and let out another laugh.

“Methinks Larry, Moe, and Curly are suddenly rolling in their graves.”

OMG! He knew the Stooges!

Bobby put an arm around Brandon and pulled him into a brief but tight buddy hug.

“You’re on a roll, B-dawg.”


Cringe. He wondered if he dare ask, but….

“So—what’s the next task in my quest into the inner circle?”

No one said anything for several moments as they all focused on the action taking place up on the screen. Lord Q’a, self-appointed Supreme Leader of the Universe, had Lt. Commander J. Stryker Magnum trapped in his tentacled grasp—a very buffed, very naked, extremely helpless to defend himself at this point, Lt. Commander—and was about to begin the final, unalterable possession and conversion of the humans’ superhero.

“You have to go down on the three of us before the movie is finished,” Nate said in an incredibly calm tone.

Brandon froze. His hand hovered between the popcorn bucket and his mouth.

His head swiveled slowly to his right—to Bobby—who stared straight ahead. It looked like he wasn’t even breathing in that moment. Brandon was sure of it since he wasn’t breathing either. Next, he changed direction … his head swiveled to the left … and he studied his other two companions. Like Bobby, Nate and Jake were staring straight ahead. Both, holding their breath.

“Excuse me?”

Nate slowly turned to laser lock onto Brandon’s wide-eyed stare.

“You have to go down on all three of us before the end of the movie,” he repeated.

“And,” Jake whispered. “You have to swallow.”


Brandon’s hand resumed its trek up to his mouth and he engulfed the load of buttered popcorn.


Soon after another load of popcorn was shoveled into his mouth.

He didn’t see Bobby smirking at Nate and thumbing down toward Brandon’s crotch and the huge bone that was snaking down the leg of his cords. Nor, did he see Nate return a broad grin and the waggle of his brow back at Bobby.

He slowly turned back to the movie screen; a tentacle that looked like an enormous hard-on began pushing its way into the helpless Lt. Commander’s hole. Taking it. Preparing to fuck it into oblivion. The dripping, drooling, throbbing tentacle that had buried itself into the superhero’s mouth pulsed and pulsed. And, the Lt. Commander swallowed and swallowed.

And, Brandon swallowed.


Like everyone else in the theater, Bobby, Jake, and Nate stared straight ahead at the movie screen as Lord Q’a raped and ravaged Lt. Commander Stryker Magnum. And, rape and ravage the alien warlord did. Nate was actually awed at the sheer brilliance of the special effects people in the making of this movie. It actually looked like there was smoke billowing out of Stryker Magnum’s butt hole. He nodded his approval; it was a very, very captivating sight. Very effective. It was hot.

It wasn’t entirely the action on-screen, however that was keeping their heads fixed forward. The three of them were waiting. Waiting for Brandon Gilchriest to get up and walk out after Nate’s comment about him having to give them all blow jobs. Get up and walk out or worse, simply begin beating the ever-lovin’ shit out of them. He had just challenged Brandon to suck dick? Multiple dicks? ‘Their’ dicks.

So far, he had done neither.

Brandon had sat staring at Nate and Jake for a very, very long time. Incredulous was one word for it. Bewildered, another. There was no anger, though. None. Not a drop. No animosity. No fury. No righteous indignation. Nothing that they might have been sitting there, now cringing and barely breathing … waiting for, was actually taking place.

He had turned his attention back to the movie. He watched, seemingly in as rapt attention as everyone else in the theater. His hand rose and fell with a handful of popcorn from time to time. That was followed by a sip from his drink now and then.

Each, for his own reason, or—confusion, found himself silently battling some rising questions about the movie. How much did they pay the lead actor to go stark naked? Not just ‘naked’ but full frontal? Not just ‘full frontal’ but fully erect? How much, for that matter, did they have to pay him to take on a roll where he was savagely, brutally, repeatedly raped by this alien creature and then by his vice-cohort, then by a cyborg…? How did they make the rape look so irrefutably ‘real’. None of them could see any evidence that there really wasn’t a tentacle ravaging the actor’s hole, or for that matter—forcing him into giving the blow job of all blow jobs.

There was another question rattling around each of their minds, too. A question that left more than one of the friends and teammates a little unnerved; ‘but’ all of them with throbbing erections threatening to burst through their jeans and cords out into the open.

Not even Brandon was immune. He kept the monster bucket of popcorn firmly planted over his crotch so that nobody—even in the darkness of the theater—could see that he had a raging boner. At least, he ‘hoped’ that no one could tell what was going on between his legs; especially his three companions. He cautiously shot a few quick eye darts to his left down and right down to the two friends sitting on either side of his theater seat.

Jake was throwing a bone that would choke an elephant and was too caught up in the movie to realize it or to try to hide it—or care. Bobby, on his right? He had long since dropped his bucket down to the floor and although his hands were splayed out in his lap they were doing nothing to cover the evidence of his own bone. It stretched so far down his thigh that Brandon wondered if it wasn’t one of those souvenir baseball bats for protection on their way out to the truck after the movie; which would be close to 2:30 or 3:00 A.M. when all was said and done.

Brandon’s mind replayed their last repartee.

What’s the next task in my quest into…?

Yeah, that had been the question. Nate’s response had left him stunned … speechless … swallowing sand mixed in with all of these foods and snacks.

You have to go down on all three of us before the end of the movie.

And then, for good measure, Jake had thrown in the final comment that had him feeling like a statue more than a human.

And, you have to swallow.

Go down? Swallow? That meant them cumming in his mouth. Right? Well … duh … what else could it mean?

Well, okay—sure. If you’re gonna go down on a guy, you would have to swallow, Brandon reasoned with his ‘self’. Why would you open the treasure chest and ‘not’ go for the prize? If someone gave him a blow job, he’d sure as hell want them to swallow. Besides being less messy and no clean-up needed … it just made sense. You suck? You swallow. Period. End of story.


But these three guys were friends … teammates of his. Three teammates that were expecting ‘him’ to give ‘them’ blow jobs. Really? Or, was this another one of their jokes, some sort of tease that he hadn’t picked up on yet? Did they ‘really’ want him to do that? Could he actually ‘do’ … that? Why was he even wondering? Was he actually considering doing this?

There was another ‘wait’ waiting in the wings, here. Okay, here it came….


Why was he sitting here, with a throbbing bone of his own, watching the Earth’s #1 superhero in this movie being raped by an alien … and … so glued to the screen watching his hole being turned into a manpussy and his mouth into a ravenous sucking machine. Right before everyone’s eyes. Right before his eyes. The straight superhero was being turned into a gay sex slave. Obedient. Hungry. Sex slave.

Why is this so … fascinating?

And, why was Brandon’s cock so hard? So throbbing? Why was it drooling in his tight cords? He was sure it was drooling no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was something else—anything else. Maybe it was just sweat from his 64-ounce drink? Butter from the bottom of the monster bucket? A leak in the roof directly over his crotch that had made that widening wet spot as each drip … plopped at ‘dick central’?

He could almost feel the panic vibing off of Jake, immediately to his left. He was sure he could feel Nate’s vibes, too. Panic waves working their way into a tsunami-storm at some point if something didn’t happen soon … very soon … to relieve the pressure that was building.

He didn’t exactly feel any panic coming from his right though. Bobby seemed almost … normal. Well, as normal as any of these ‘stooges’ ever were—except when they were on the football field. They were spectacular athletes in their own right. But, no—it wasn’t panic vibing off of Bobby. It was…. He didn’t know. Worry? Regret for the guys saying what they said? Concern that their comments would drive Brandon ‘away’ rather than ‘into’ their circle?

A disturbance in the force? To coin a phrase from another movie series.

He knew that he had to say something at some point to get the guys to breathe again or he’d have to call for EMS to bring oxygen tanks. He just wasn’t sure what he ‘should’ say … could say … that would alleviate the bubble of tension surrounding them. Whatever it was that he ‘might’ say in his next breath, he certainly wasn’t prepared for what actually came out of his mouth to be it.

Brandon’s eyes rolled again. He shook his head slightly. Well, he wanted to go full tilt, walk on the wild side … somewhat … during this weekend of freedom from his family, his gf, everything ‘usual’ in his life. Sucking three guys’ cocks was certainly ‘wild side’.

And here was another ‘wait’ bubbling to the top.


Am I actually gonna do this?

“Who’s first?”

Bobby’s brow rose.

Jake’s hand froze on its way to his mouth.

Nate’s head snapped to his right so fast that his neck popped.

“Who’s first … what?” Nate asked finally.


What the fuck had he just asked? Brandon lifted his drink to his mouth and sucked on the straw for a moment of ‘kill time’ while he figured a way around that question. Unfortunately, again, he didn’t expect to come out what came out.

“You said, um,” another sip. “You said the next task in my quest is, um … to go down on you guys.” He took another sip at his drink. Swallow. Sip, and—swallow. “Um, before the movie is done.”

Their statue imitations were over. Bobby, Jake, and Nate all turned to stare at Brandon full on. Surely he wasn’t saying…? Or, was he?

“Yes,” Nate said hoarsely.

Jake nodded.

Bobby just sat there, silently taking this in. Waiting for the punch line. There had to be a punch line. Surely there was a punch line.

“Yeah, so,” Brandon responded. His own voice had gone hoarse in the last few moments. “Which one of you do I go down on first?”

Jake looked at Nate. Nate looked at Jake. They both leaned forward and looked beyond Brandon and looked at Bobby. Brows rose in unison. Perplexed expressions could have been the rule of the day. A shrug here. A shrug there. Each of them was waiting for the other to say something, or—for Brandon to wink, grin, burst out in a rolling thunder of laughter followed by a Gotcha!

“Me,” Nate said, finally. “You go down on me, first.”

Bobby and Jake exchanged curious looks as their buddy set his bucket on the arm rest to his left—toward the rest of the seating area. He reached for the button on his tight fitting jeans, popped them open and grabbed his zipper.

“Why are you first?”

Nate looked up and into the curious eyes of Brandon Gilchriest, school god, once he dragged his eyes away from Nate’s bulging mound.

“Have you ever sucked a dick before?” Brandon shook his head. “Well, sadly, I have the smallest cock of the three of us. But, that’s good for you.”

Brandon nodded his comprehension although he didn’t get it. How was that good for him?

“Good, how … exactly?”

“By going down on me first,” Nate reasoned. “You get used to a cock in your mouth. You get to know the taste and texture and the ‘feel’ of it before you move on to the monster cocks these two studs have,” he gestured toward Jake and Bobby. “It’ll be easier for you to go down on them if you’ve already gotten used to sucking on a chunk of meat that wouldn’t be out of place on a moose.”

Bobby leaned forward and looked past Brandon. He snickered softly.

“Dude, you so don’t have a little cock.”

Nate blushed. Thank goodness it was dark in the theater.

“No. No, I don’t. It’s a good solid 10”, thank you very much. But, it’s smaller than what you’re packing and it’s a downright ‘little dude’ compared to the Q’atonian Battle Cruiser that’s hanging between Jake’s legs.”

Brandon’s brow knitted this time. Fuck—how big was that thing? Jake was the shortest of the three of them. He barely made 5’8” if that. He was built like a brick fire plug, though. The guy’s body was killer and he was hell on wheels out on the field no matter his size. He made a hell of a kickoff and punt return specialist. And, he was one hell of a good receiver. What he lacked in height, he more than made up for in speed … with hands that could catch and grip anything that came his way.

Jake nodded. Nate was right. What could he say? And, he was right about the other thing, too. He did have a gargantuan boner when it ‘boned’. The thing was massive. Thick. And he had bull balls, too. And, when he came? It was like Old Faithful’s big brother in the geyser world.

“He’s right, B-dawg,” Bobby said finally joining in the conversation. “If you’ve never sucked dick before?” Brandon again shook his head. “Well, then even though he’s hung huge, he’s got the smallest of the three of us. You’d be safer starting on him instead of Jake or me. We’d hate for you to choke to death before you got in any practice time on our chunks of salami.”

‘If’, they got that far. ‘If’ Brandon took it to the swallow stage. In Jake’s case, it would not be a ‘swallow’. It would be more like gulping for his life.

He called me B-dawg, again. I like that. Nobody has ever called me anything like that. Not even close to that. On the other hand, I’ve never been involved in a conversation like this before, either….

Groans and ‘oh fucks!’ and ‘holy crap!’s drew their attention to the screen. The helpless, exhausted, ravaged Lt. Commander was set up for his next and final rape by the alien warlord and his zombie commander. They watched silently as both Lord Q’a and Prince Fug’am slammed their enormous tentacle cock and zombie cock into Magnum’s manpussy. He was being double fucked, now. Double fucked and obliterated.


Three heads turned away from the screen in unison and back to face Brandon. The theater was perfectly air conditioned but he still had beads of sweat on his forehead.


“Where do you want to do this? In the men’s room? Back in the corner,” Brandon gestured behind them to the far right where the curtains of one wall seamlessly met those of the adjoining wall—they could easily slip behind the curtain. “Or, right here?”

Bobby put his leadership role in this little circle into use. He stood up and motioned for Nate to switch with. As they did so, they exchanged silent ‘holy shits’. There was no way Brandon would actually go through with this. Was there? No. No way. No … friggin’ … way! But, they’d play it through as far as he was willing to take it before he chickened out. And, that was a given; they would go all the way with this. Brandon would be the one to put a stop to this if anyone did.

Bobby’s brow furrowed. All of this maneuvering and he was ‘still’ waiting for the punch line. He couldn’t believe that there was no punch line.

Nate slid into the seat that Bobby had just vacated and again reached for his zipper. Two seconds later, his jeans and shorts slid down below his knees and his throbbing hard erection had slapped up against his belly with a resounding ‘smack’. Fortunately, the wails and roars and cheers coming from the movie, and—the movie-goers—drowned it out to anyone but the four of them. Hopefully. He wrapped his hand around his full-blown bone and held it up and out. He slowly stroked it. It glistened in the darkness as his precum caught the light from the screen.

Brandon stared down at the throbbing cock jutting from Nate’s crotch. This was the ‘small’ one? Fuck, what had he got himself into? He swallowed hard. Something told him that he was going to be doing a lot of swallowing before the movie finished.

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.

Thank you to those of you who have taken the time out of your day to write me about my stories. The thoughts, comments, and feedback are VERY much appreciated.

My other stories on Nifty can be found using the Nifty Prolific Authors page: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jonathanlonghorn