Pipe Blowing

Mikey was one of those ruggedly handsome twenty-year-old studs that loved his motorcycles.

You know the kind: Loveably dumb when it came to the books. Refreshingly savvy when it came to the streets. And yet he was always ready to give the make and model of every bike known to man—even the foreign makes—in a matter of nanoseconds just by listening to the engine roar down the hot summer streets.

Mikey knew his bikes. He was also equally good at fixing them too, which proved to be both a blessing and a curse working for my Uncle Marv at his auto body shop down in San Diego.

I say that because while Uncle Marv was incredibly astute in hiring a gifted mechanic like Mikey to save his floundering shop, he secretly hated the tall, good-looking, high-yellow biracial guy because I was so enamored with him.

You see, when it came to family members that were cool to be around, Uncle Marv was the guy to beat. After my dad passed away the previous fall and my uncle losing his wife to cancer the following spring, flying out to California to console the widower seemed to be the most generous way to spend my summer vacation.

While I fully understood my uncle was dealing with his loss just the same as I was dealing with mine, I didn’t expect him to be so totally out of it. He was different from the confident, laid man I had grown to love and respect. First, it came off as if he lost his way, like he was trying super hard to get back to the way things were. The way it used to be before my aunt passed away. When I tried to indulge him in this, in my attempt to meet him halfway, he wanted to push me off on his mechanic Mikey. When I thought I was giving him his space, he got so irate because I was spending all of my time with Mikey, working on those crotch rockets.

The main problem was Uncle Marv wanted to be my go-to guy regarding working on bikes. Even if my uncle was in a better headspace, that wasn’t likely to have happened. Uncle Marv was one of those mechanics who got his knowledge about bikes straight out of the books and wanted me to do the same as if the beautiful California sun wasn’t calling out my name. And while there was no question Uncle Marv knew what he was doing as far as fixing bikes, there wasn’t any real passion behind his work—other than running the shop—which happened to make every lesson he wanted to teach me sound like some long boring lecture on the migrant pattern of snails.

Mikey, on the other hand, with his retro sideburns flaring out along his defined jaw line simply loved bikes.

He was just about a hair away from altogether worshiping the machine, if it wasn’t for the fact he clearly got the sense it was a ferocious beast made for speed. Whenever he wasn’t working on one or pointing one out in the streets, he was always riding a bike from his expansive collection off into the sunset with me riding bitch.

I honestly didn’t give a shit about my position because when I was riding behind Mikey I was riding like I was driving, which was far more than I could say for Uncle Marv who wouldn’t even touch a bike outside of working on one.

Don’t get me wrong, Uncle Marv and I were still very cool—as only favorite uncle and nephew could be—just as long as I didn’t mention Mikey’s name outside of the shop. Something that was awfully hard to do because I spent almost every waking moment of my summer vacation soaking up the aura that was Mikey Bobo.

I was in total awe of Mikey. He lived life by the seat of his denim jeans with not a care in the world. He was a proud grease monkey who got his hands filthy by the day and sweaty by night with some random chick who thought his exotic good looks reminded them of some chic villain they saw in some cheesy C-rated movie some time ago. And because Mike was just a few years older than me, he became the cool big brother I never had. He scored me a fake ID to join him at some of the local bikes clubs in the outskirts of town. He invited me over to his empty apartment where his landlady insisted on providing him with free alcohol in addition to free rent in exchange for a few sexual favors.

Mikey and I were hanging out of his apartment one afternoon after she had left when he decided we should head out for a ride. Normally, it meant we were on our way to the beach or to some biker dive or to the ramshackle house of one of his notorious weed suppliers. When Mikey went in this new direction opposite of all those other places, I was a little unnerved when he pulled up to this dark warehouse in the middle of nowhere. My edginess about being in this strange place at night only intensified as he flipped on an overhead light and handed me a set of keys. The first key was to unlock the storage unit. The second key on the ring was to start the black and blue Suzuki motorcycle of my dreams!

Mike waited until I manned up from blubbering like a punk to tell me it was all mine. Uncle Marv had bought it off Mikey as a gift to me for my eighteenth birthday—after I got my license earlier that day. Mikey said Uncle Marv said I earned it, given all the work I had done around the shop following behind Mikey and making his workload lighter so he could get to more bikes.

“Man,” I said wiping away more tears. “Too fuckin’ bad I can’t ride my baby tonight. Damn!”

“Why not?”

“Uncle Marv, man,” I groaned. I had to remind him that even with such a cool and generous gift, Uncle Marv wasn’t a big fan of me hanging out with Mikey all hours of the night, and by then it was pushing ten-thirty.

“That’s what eighteen do for you. Besides, it’s sort of kind of the reason why he ain’t here to give you this expensive gift himself.” Mikey said showing of his crookedly goofy smile framed in a wisp of a connecting mustache and goatee. “Marvin kind of sort of figured once you got your hands on this bike you’d probably want to spend the night riding it. And since he never been the kind of man to ride like that, I told him that it was cool if you crashed at my crib tonight, if you happen to tucker yourself out?”

“Screw you, man!” I laughed moving his frisky hand away from my head.

It felt as if we rode the highway forever that night. But eventually we pulled into this dilapidated taco stand outside of Mexicali, where we were greeted by this gang of retired bikers and this plain-looking Mexican girl with long hair, big breasts and a bigger nose. She said her name was Christiana, though deep down I felt it was only her name for the night. Nevertheless, she proved to be the only ray of light for miles as she manned the whole place by herself, speaking to us in perfect English with a slight flare of her native Oaxaca tongue ringing through.

We first thought she was just being nice to us because we were the only two men in the place who weren’t old enough to be her father, grandfather, or even a perverted uncle. Then, her tactics towards us became a little bit more aggressive. Not like she was angry at us or anything, but much more engaging, as if the conversation between the sexes was a full contact sport.

Mikey thought she was flirting with him because of the way she threw her big titties in his face. I thought she was flirting with me by the way she kept on caressing my mannish neck and grabbing onto my well-rounded shoulders. (Even though Mikey was a couple years older than me, I looked to be his equal, if not a couple of years ahead of him, being I filled out my thickset five-ten frame quite handsomely.)

As it turned out, she was shamelessly flirting with the both of us. Mikey explained to me that like most girls she was turned on by the cool bikes out there, and it didn’t hurt we were a couple of good-looking studs. The thing really caught our attention with her was when we got up to the counter to pay our bill was a lewd drawing of a voluptuous woman on the receiving end of two enormous dicks, one colored in black (to be me) and the other one left blank with grease droplets in the middle (to be him) slipped out from under the receipt.

Mikey and I could do nothing but study the enticing picture. And that was when Christiana let it be known in less than an hour after she got off from work she wanted to get off with a dick down her throat and a dick in her warm snatch.

I think it should go without saying being both heterosexual men, Mikey and I helped her in any way we could to make sure she locked up in a timely manner, from tossing the old geezer out to making sure the place was spic and span from top to bottom before we left. As Mikey and I left her be to finish her nightly routine, I reached for the payphone outside to thank Uncle Marv for the bike. Before I thank him for the umpteenth time, Christiana strolled out of the eater with her stained tee shirt pulled behind her head shimmying her larger braless knockers for the night sky to see. If that wasn’t enough to get a horny teenager going, I left the taco stand feeling incredibly manly when she climbed on the back of my bike, wrapping her arms around me, and whispering sweet dirty freaky nothings in my ear, driving down the road to the roach motel to secure a room for our threesome to commence.

Soon enough, the three of us stripped down to nothing. Mikey and I weren’t virgins when it came to girls nor were we virgins in seeing each other naked as we occasionally indulged in jack-off contests while watching Guy Di Silva and Jake Sneed paint their respective cocks in soaking wet pussy juice in Mikey’s apartment. And Christiana being the one that suggested the tag team obviously wasn’t a virgin neither.

Being the youngest in the group, I felt I had the most to prove. I took the lead in pulling her hair to get her to suck Mikey off properly while I grinded into her pussy. I then flipped her on her back with Mikey keeping a steady hand around her neck, showing me a trick that sent her over the edge. It worked. She sprayed pussy juices to the like I had never seen before. By the time Mikey and I switched off it sounded like he was drilling into a well the way her wetness churned like raging rapids.

To make a long story short, Mikey got off twice while I was too nervous to even get off once. And with Christiana desperate to get back to the taco stand before her married owner-boyfriend found out she closed the restaurant for a couple of hours just to get laid, she couldn’t stick around and wait; though her apology was sincere since I got her off and she wasn’t able to reciprocate.

“I thought you would’ve been the first to blow.” Mikey said trying to be comforting. Not knowing he was only making matters worse as he grabbed the edge of the comforters to wipe his cum-stained dick.

“I know,” I mouthed grabbing the other end of the comforter to wipe away the spit and cunt sap off my dick.

As that proved to be the first time that would ever happen to me, it certainly wasn’t the last. In later years, I would learn I was growing into a very piggish dick.

At the time, however, I was beyond bewildered. It wasn’t like I wasn’t getting off on the action as much as I failed to just get off. And because that was the first time I had sex in front of another man before, particularly one I was in sheer wonder of, I chalked up my choking up as something that was destined to happen.

“I thought the way you were going hard in that pussy you’d be popping off like a firecracker, man, especially after getting a new bike and some fire-crotch to boot.”

“I know.” I said respectfully annoyed by now, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I mean you’re not going to find a ton of girls that’ll freak both you and your homeboy off like that. That’s like a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

“I know. Damn!” I cursed.

“Maybe I can remedy that for you.” Mikey said confidently out of the blue getting up from his stretched-out position on the bed.

“What?”

“Get up.” Mikey beamed walking over to the television, playing with the hairy carpet over his hard chest and rippling abs.

“What do you got in mind?” I asked.

“Come here.” Mikey said with me coming up to stand next to him.

He changed the channel, going through a series of barely playable stations before he got to one full of squiggly lines that produced the slight image of a bouncing brunette groaning her heart out in Spanish in the lap of a brown man I couldn’t clearly make out.

“Jack off with me like we do back at the crib.”

“You still got juice?” I asked shocked.

My dick never died down to begin with, not even after Christiana left, but Mikey gushed like a geyser the first time. And the second time, he shot like a bubbling stream that never seemed to stop running.

“Hell yeah! You know me, man. A stroke a day keeps the blue balls away!”

I said nothing to his last comment. I just grabbed my dick and stroke, regretting we didn’t ask Christiana if she had a weed supplier in these parts, seeing we weren’t bound to go anywhere without some much-needed sleep.

I swear. No more than ten minutes passed before Mikey was crying out another creamy load. Of course, I was mad as fuck, looking over to find a load of dying babies dripping all over his thick sticky fingers.

Again, it wasn’t like I wasn’t feeling my dick. It just felt like I was far from oblivion shooting out any milk. I squeezed harder, stroked faster, think that speed was the thing to remedy my problem. After a few minutes of absolutely nothing, I started to worry that maybe my problem was that I didn’t jack off enough like Mikey. Even worst, as I thought fearfully at the time, maybe my pipes were blocked, and I wasn’t going to skeet a nutt ever again!

“Whoa, slow it down, man! You might burn off some of those nerve-endings that won’t allow you to come.” Mikey commented, reaching over to put his hand just over my bellybutton.

I was pumping so hard I probably could’ve started a forest fire down there.

“Relax and breathe.” Mikey offered.

I did, slowing down my strokes as well.

“Let go of your dick, man.”

I obliged.

“Now you know I’m about busting a nutt, right?”

“Yeah,” I said with a ‘no-duh’ attitude.

“You want to bust that nutt right?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

“I got an idea. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.”

I followed his direction.

“Good,” Mikey continued. “Now what I’m about to do is help you get your nutt, shouldn’t leave this room, okay?”

Once again, I said nothing, trusting Mikey and not trusting him at the same time. Not knowing exactly what the bike mechanic had up his greased sleeve.

I waited patiently for something to happen before I felt him come from behind me and I felt his arm come underneath my arm, hitting the side of my stomach as his sticky-wiped hand reached out and clasped my swollen pipe.

I jumped at the touch of the new hand but welcomed each new thrust that followed like an old dear friend. I started to leak just a bit—and then a lot. My dick drooled with so much slime for a brief second I thought it was the lack of lube that had done me in. I settled in this thought before I remembered Christiana was drenching my balls with her pussy juices like nothing I had ever seen or felt before.

I let his hand take me through the ropes of ecstasy. Much like before however, it wasn’t that I wasn’t feeling anything spectacular as it was I just wasn’t “arriving” at the place I wanted to go.

I had just exhaled my twentieth sigh, thinking if I had just given into the feeling enough, I would be on my way to busting a good nutt or two, when I felt Mikey change hands and change positions, going from being behind me to beside me, sort of. I wasn’t going to open my eyes but was about to ask what he was doing when I felt a new kind of wetness engulf my dick. It was right on the head, encircling it. Had it been another girl in the room, I wouldn’t have had to question what was going on. But Mikey had a dick just like me, so it couldn’t have been what I was thinking. Mikey wasn’t a homo. Mikey was a macho man who scored with tons of girls. There was no way he was playing with me with his mouth.

Even though the feeling was unique, I didn’t truly believe what was going on until I looked down and saw a very familiar face making a very familiar fish face right in front of me. I nearly crawled out of my skin. It was already unfathomable to me that my boy, my big brother substitute, like scraping his knees for cock. I was completely flabbergasted when he took to it like a baby to a pacifier, consistently and relentlessly. I wanted to swat him away, call him out for the fairy he was. However, that didn’t happen. His mouth felt golden. He sucked dick better than any girl I had ever been with before. It was like his mouth was making sweet love to my dick. Or, at least, I thought he was when he began to choke on it a bit taking dick passed his trembling tonsils.

I stood there with my hand out to my side, not knowing what to do with them, thinking if I reached out and touched him it was somehow going to make our friendship weirder.

Mikey reached up for my arms and moved my hands over to the top of his head like it was game show buzzer. I used it to guide my dick further into his mouth as I slowly moved my hips forward. He scared me more than a few times when I heard the tone in his throat go from a lively gulp to a silent gag, which made me tense up a bit. Yet, feeling his throat convulse around my dick in his mediocre retch felt incredibly wonderful.

I began not to feel so bad after he took my dick down to the hilt a couple of more times, letting me know that not only was he a good cocksucker but he was a very skilled cocksucker at that.

Although I should’ve felt relieved, I was angry more than anything else.

Angry that Mikey was a knob-slobber. Angry that I was letting him do this to me without so much of a fight. Angry at myself that I gave off this vibe that he felt comfortable to do this to me there. I was just plain angry!

I wasn’t expecting the anger to manifest itself. I came to find I was pulling on his head and jamming my dick down his throat. He was choking. I didn’t give a shit. His face was my cunt. He was a smart enough cocksucker to keep his lips working over my dick.

I was so caught up in my emotions it had to shake through me like a clap of thunder I was about to come!

“Keep that up and I’m going to nutt all in your mouth, man!”

“Good.” Mikey mumbled, breaking to take a brief pause. “You said you wanted to get that nutt. Go ahead. Bust that nutt in my mouth if it’s going to get you off.”

It took me a few minutes, but after awhile I was losing my mind with lust watching those deep strokes drive in and out of my mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it, suck my dick!” I added some bass to my voice.

And as if it finally hit him, he began to go crazy too, slurping on my dick like it was his lifeline.

“I never thought I would say this to another dude, but you look good with my dick hanging out of your mouth.”

He opened his mouth wider, giving it a loud slurp before he wrapped his lips tightly around my dick.

“Oh, yeah, Mikey,” I said grabbing a handful of close-cropped hair. “Get ready for it ‘cause here I come!”

I ferociously pumped my hips, keeping his head steady on me. I went from feeling the friction of my cock to feeling my cock swell even thicker.

“Aw, man! Fuck!”

I grunted. He grunted even louder with me barely pulling of his mouth to shoot a long steady stream of cum right into his waiting mouth.

I was exhausted and at loss for words, not with a sense of relief my dick still worked but back to the original anger I had at Mikey, as if he purposely betrayed our friendship.

Mikey was oblivious to this. He looked at me looking back him. The angrier I got, the nerve he had to smile brighter in my face, licking the corners of his mouth of some of my runoff.

In the coming years, Mikey has led to some satisfying jack off sessions, thinking about the night of my eighteenth birthday and the possibilities of the night thereafter, if only I knew how to play my cards right. Even though Mikey still works for Uncle Marv, I have long gotten over my “anger” and come to terms with my sexuality. As for Mikey, he did the reverse. He doesn’t mess around like that anymore. As a married man and rotund preacher, he has his willed his fidelity to his equally hefty wife and to his creator. But, man, when Mike was pipe blowing, he was definitely blowing pipe!