Stick Shift  

Within seconds of hearing the latch lock into place on the plywood door, the mound jumbling the inside of the sweatpants nonchalantly positioned itself within eyesight of the 6-inch oblong cutout joining my stall to the next one.  Darkly veined hands fingered the rope tie at the waist and with faked patience untied the loose knot, allowing them to drop silently to the floor over the worn, sockless and laceless cross-trainers.  No clothing was visible on the darkly smooth stomach above the sexy bellybutton.

 A frayed jock only partially tamed the s-shaped black snake within.   Rid of pants, the long meat willed its way tentatively toward the hole, the same fingers further liberating the leg lizard from its frazzled strap confines into a supple, growing organ.  Curlicues of pubic cover and smooth low-hangers of hefty size filled the view through the hole in the wall as I studied my dilemma.  

 I silently grinned in contemplation of the problem 'unfolding' before me.  Here I was, on my knees padded by shorts and drawers.  My limber white dick dangled at half-mast between my muscled thighs, popper bottle within hand's reach.  A beautiful fat black dick swung free through the cutout hole, inching higher in progressive increasing engorgement, evidently hoping for some good head.  And yet, I hesitated touching the over-sized uncut cobra swelling four inches distant from my lips…

*

 …The same lips that had partaken of the fragrant herb so frowned upon by mainstream society only an hour before when a new brother-in-law had tempted me while out gathering my wits from the familial onslaught occurring inside the house.  I was claiming a short respite on the back veranda when Coy had appeared, sauntering toward me out of the wooded shadows of the spacious backyard, sucking lazily on a fat blunt.  

The dark-skinned beefcake eyeballed me smugly as he asked if I were just a little bit freaked by the token white boy status I presently held amongst the gathering family.  That made me laugh, but he persisted, letting me know that maybe I could understand the feeling black folk frequently confronted in a lily-white world they commonly navigated.  Food for thought, for sure.  Then, he proposed to increase my paranoia level by offering me a hit...

Really, now, what's a dude gonna do?  I took the blunt and inhaled deeply of the smooth creeper weed, of course.  We chatted amiably, sharing several tokes as my nerves calmed over the ensuing minutes.  Coy's laid back manner indicated prior achievement of his desired mental state: basically blitzed.  

Breaking our quiet reverie, the door opened suddenly and we were busted by a sister-in-law who burst upon us calling her brother's name, in obvious search.  In surprise, we exhaled the guilty evidence directly at her, my discomfort on distinct display by my abruptly flushing color. 

She surveyed the scene, asking, "Well, now, what you two cute stuffs' doin' out here?"  Kindly opting to defray my visible angst, she smiled knowingly as my cheeks burned.  Then she endeared herself to me further, signaling us to pass her the doobie.  By taking a hit with us, she meant to let me off the hook.  It worked.  I loved this woman immediately.

My new favorite lady savior reminded Coy of the need for a run to the grocery store in town before the barbeque later in the evening, instructing him to, "take this here boy along, too, so your stoned selves both make it back home OK."  Sealing my gratitude, she winked at me, flirtatiously stuffing a paper into my shirt pocket, adding, "Here's the list."  And with that, she disappeared back into the house. 

Finding ourselves on the road into town a little later, Coy told me he had to stop in the bank for a few minutes, could I get the list?  No problem, that.  I stonedly floated from the car toward the store as he turned in the other direction.  Breaking the age-old rule of 'no grocery shopping while high', I wandered every single aisle of the store, gathering the items listed, plus some... twice.

In stoned focus I collected the filled bags to the trunk and settled in to await Coy's return from his bank errand.  And waited... and waited... and waited for the no-show Coy.  After half an hour, my mind wandering, I picked up on a darkly shaded alley to the side of the store not noticed up to then.  Had I been in the city, I never would have done so but here in the sticks my stone-faced curiosity bested me and I stepped out of the car.

  Wandering down to the back corner, I turned it at the rear alley and spied an untamed bush-shrouded door with the sign above it weakly blinking the announcement, "VIDEO ARCADE".  Wow, I thought, Mecca for the horndogs of the world invades Smalltown, USA.  A few almost guilt-tinged minutes later found myself unsealing the fresh popper bottle and choosing a skin-flick video in the small cubicle locked by a slide latch.  The scene was now set for the previous 'problem' sexily rising before me...

*

 ...The underground hip-hop music set a sexual beat throughout the seedy arcade as I kneeled before the glory hole, nasty lyrics suggesting my next move.  I fought my instincts to do what I wanted to do: suck the pretty dick through the hole.  Slurping sounds close by alerted me to the fact that the dick sucker in the booth on my other side was tripping on a fat piece which had no doubt locked itself into the adjoining cubicle for just such a purpose…damn.

 I could hear the raspy, falsetto voice of the tranny two stalls down as she begged the long, hard, corn-holing cock to, "Nooo... please, Daddy, oh noo, please, Daddy, don't do that, it’s too big... oh, please Daddy, Daddy, oh, please, please don't--- I can’t take all that big dick, Daddy…ohhh, please Daddy, please...ohhh...ohhh... …ooohhhhh…Yesss, Daddy, fuck that pussy, Daddy...give me that big cock...Slam me with that, Daddy, ooooh go, Daddy,” in the timeworn refrain practiced so unfailingly one more time... double damn.

What the fuck, I thought?  Where was I, anyway?  And what was this pretty dick doin’ here in front of me, too?  It sure seemed to be under no illusions as the beckoning head reached an arching fullness, teasing me.  This meeting must be preordained, I rationalized.  By that totally twisted logic I succumbed to the subliminal aura of the sex-infused atmosphere, greedily sliding that big, fat, begging, spongy-headed, pre-cumming brother-in-law dick all the way past my tonsils.  And there I sat, skewered and motionless, absorbing my big, fat sin for as long as I could.  

Finally having to breathe, I backed off the beautiful prick, exhaling as the thing cleared out of my throat until just the delicious spongy head remained between my lips.  Looking down my nose at the long black shaft, I took the time to uncap the popper bottle and inhaled, so as to enhance my efforts.  I teethed a bit on the head of this hot man's straight out 9-1/2 inches of delectable uncut dick as the rush enveloped me, then curved it back down my ready throat as Coy pressed from the opposite side.  Hearing him audibly hit on his own jungle juice bottle, I spit the big thing with saliva and settled into a long, deep, in-and-out motion, sliding to the rhythm of the nasty music.  Damn, this was good dick.

 I  have always loved how my tongue feels when smoothly enwrapping the elastic cylinder on the underside of hard dicks.  Repeatedly following this one’s swollen ‘undertube’ all the way down the length from the helmet head to the kinky pubic pad and smooth balls, I gradually worked the foreskin back with each long stroke, liberating the pliant, rubbery softness of the curves on that extremely suckable head. 

 Freed from the overhang and ten times more sensitive, I squeezed it hard between my lips and he shuddered.  With each smooth swallowing stroke, I kept pulsing that squeeze and his knees buckled, nearly giving out.  Boy, I got off on that feeling.  Talk about the driver’s seat…my mouth was on the stick shift.

He attempted to keep the entire length deeply seated, grinding his pubes as far through the separating wall hole as possible.  I lightly bit down on the root while flattening the crown against the back of my throat at the same time, answering his pushes.  My hard dick sproinged up and down in unison.  Both of us tremored to the pleasure of this action and I lost track of everything but the ongoing connection between us.  He could feel how much I was lovin' the dick and began reminding me of it... "ya’ cocksucking bitch." 

The filthy synthesized music playing in the background kept my action on beat as we zoned with it.  The dick thrusts set to matching my sucking with his pelvic gyrations into my mouth.  He encouraged my mouth-only contact with his cock and demanded me to reach through to finger the asshole.  Good fucking idea, I thought.

My slippery fingertips stroked and probed and slid to and from the wavy pucker of his manly asshole over the elastic swelling between it and the stud's scrotum in time with my mouth motions.  I fondled his private contours and G-spots as I cupped those pendulous nuts and rolled them between my thumb and fingers.  The added attention all over the area enhanced the thrill and his low moans couldn’t lie.  

Uncounted minutes took us both slowly up that stairway to the breath-holding moment when dicks ooze that first glob of creamy cum and then rocket out four or five jets of sizzling, gooey jism.  We both did that. 

 I swallowed most of his, the rest overflowed down my chest; mine splattered the wall and my shorts.  The downhill edge of ecstasy extended 'for-seeming-ever' as we lingered over slow, teasing strokes punctuated by jolts of bolting energy in that joined state, neither desiring it to stop.   

Letting him finally pull back and loose, I peered upward through the good-sized hole, catching the streaming picture of his sculpted cocoa body from that sperm-dripping, quivering cock up to the flat stomach, on up over those firmly nippled pecs to the hangdog smile smirking down at me.  Eye-to-eye.  

At that moment, it dawned on me this boy just knew he had me cornered.  After all, from his viewpoint, how could I possibly have known who was attached to the succulent dick I had just made cum?  Like a low-down cheatin’ slut...sucking anonymous dick.

What a stonehenge.  Did he think I hadn’t seen his sweatpants?

Coy embodied the personification of a horny devil.  Tall, athletic and adorable-- a sensual satyr.  The mischievous stance with fingers coated by long sticky webbings of his own leftover cum in need of wiping, the brother projected cocky certainty of his new control over me.  

The over-confidence persisted as he commented lewdly on my oral and lingual skills.  Mistakenly, he as much as admitted premeditation of our present scenario.  From the sharing of the joint to the opportune reminder from his sis of the store run, to his ‘bank errand’ and no-show appearance at the car, the objective had been clear.  To him, at least.  Little did this country boy know that he was out of his league...  

He next affected a sad-sack visage while informing me in no uncertain terms that he, “wouldn't be able to lie to Cal about what had just happened...unless...,” and here he hedged his bet: he seemed to be mentally tallying my indebtedness, calculating what he might be able to extract from me.  A complete crock, I reflected.

My wholehearted and immediate agreement about not lying left him totally flummoxed.  "Just not sure when to tell him," I assured this Lothario.  Reminding him that he may not be aware of the fact that though I may have felt some ambivalence for our unusual hook up, I certainly held no guilt over the job well done.  On the contrary, I had enjoyed it immensely.  As, I added, had he…

This unusual tack monkey-wrenched his whole plan as it was not a strategy heretofore encountered.  Coy’s modus operandi had always been successful domination over his five brothers' extracurricular sex partners by first luring the unsuspecting prey then threatening to out them.  Pretty cheesy, the tactic would not do in this instance, as he was now realizing.  The boy just wasn't yet familiar enough with either his twin or me. 

 Before tying the knot, Cal and I had been lovers for more than eight years.  We'd been ‘out of our closet’ for all that time, and open to side thrills from the outset.  By mutual agreement.  No, that just would not do here...Coy had some learning to do.

I let Coy down gently by telling him that while I was uncertain which of us had experienced more pleasure by this bookstore blowjob, we could probably agree that rarely had bonding between new brother’s-in-law begun better… I would be glad to provide him with more good head whenever he might choose.  And, Cal would get off on watching.  Win-win. 

 

On the ride back to the house we were bombarded by the heavy scent of cum and poppers which we blithely deluded ourselves would be improved upon by lighting another skiff.  Not really, but we enjoyed smoking it anyway.  Opening paper towels and some Febreze, I attempted to at least reduce the odor.  Confidence in my man's even-tempered reaction was one thing but I certainly didn't want anyone else guessing our lascivious deeds. 

 Be warned, Febreze does not substitute well for Handiwipes or disinfectant.  Nevertheless, upon darkening the farmhouse door, the two of us managed to pull off a studied innocence worthy of Pope Frank himself.

 I told Cal all of the hot details after the barbeque over sex-in-the-dark.  He came three times, while Coy whacked his big piece listening from the next room.  

 

 

zackjack

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