Joaquin 2.0

Copyright © 2024 by Stimle ([email protected]). All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” - Proverbs 16:18

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I should have seen it coming.

 The holidays were a whirlwind. Danielle was completely over the moon when I proposed to her Christmas Eve, and I don’t think either of us has stopped smiling since.

Her parents invited me to spend the week between Christmas and New Year’s skiing at their cabin in Colorado and we had a fantastic time. Her dad – well, her stepdad – is great. Her parents divorced when she and her younger brother were in elementary school, and her biological dad has never been a big part of their lives. When her mom, Joyce, married Ron several years ago, he stepped right in and became the father Danielle and Justin never had. Ron and I always got along great, but after Danielle and I got engaged, he started treating me like part of the family. It was an awesome feeling.

I felt like a changed man too. I think getting engaged was just what I needed to tamp down the carnal appetite that had been causing me to stumble in my walk with the Lord over the past year. Knowing I’d conquered those craven desires once and for all made me extremely proud. I know, I know… the Bible talks about how pride goes before a fall and all that, but I’d earned that victory, and I had no intention of falling.

 

It was probably bound to happen anyway, but I had one more wet dream before leaving for school, and boy, it was a doozy. And dang if my dad didn’t catch me out on it!

Rundy spent the night before Danielle and I left to drive back to school. We ordered pizza and watched the old Tom Cruise movie, ‘Jerry Maguire,’ with my parents. It was a great movie, one that neither of us had seen before, but we had to put up with my dad’s good-natured grousing that it wasn’t that old of a movie and that he and my mom weren’t the dinosaurs we were making them out to be. “I’m forty-three, not eighty-three,” Dad grumbled whenever Rundy and I pointed out things in the movie that seemed ancient by today’s standards.

After my parents went to bed, Rundy and I messed around in the basement, playing pool and darts while quoting lines from the movie like “Show me the money,” and “You complete me,” and “You had me at hello,” before we finally went to bed.

Rundy and I have been spending the night at each other’s houses since grade school. Our parents had gone to college together and are still close. Once we got into high school, though, his house was overrun by his three younger sisters and their boy crazy friends, so he began spending more time at my house since we never seemed to get a moment’s peace or privacy at his.

We stripped down to our underwear – we’d stopped wearing PJs ages ago – and crawled into my bed. We were still wired and ended up lying side by side, facing each other, as we talked about Tom Cruise movies, the upcoming semester, classes, the wedding…

In the past, it had never been a big deal to be this close to Rundy while wearing next to nothing. But tonight, for some reason, I was keenly aware of my best friend lying just inches from me wearing nothing but his underwear. As we talked – his hazel eyes bright and animated – I took in his lean body, toned and tanned, his rumpled dark blond hair, his lips… What the heck?! Why was I checking him out and where had these thoughts come from?

I was so lost in my head that I didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he gave a loud snort followed by a long, low groan.

I chuckled softly. As usual, no matter how amped up he was, Rundy once again had fallen asleep within minutes of getting in bed. For some reason, though, sleep eluded me and for a long time I lay propped up on one elbow staring at him. He looked so peaceful: his long lashes casting crescent-shaped shadows on his cheeks; his chest rising and falling with each breath; his pecs – sculpted from years of working out – like miniature peaks; the thin dusting of hair on his chest that tapered to a trail and led beneath the waistband of his underwear …

Sleep eventually caught up with me and I drifted off. That’s when the dreams came.

“You want me to fuck your buddy, don’t you?” Dillon asked, and I swear I could smell his aftershave, feel the dip of the mattress, the press of his body against mine.

“No,” I whispered, even as my eyes were riveted to the bulge in Rundy’s briefs. My tongue darted out and I licked my lips. I swallowed.

“Are you sure?” He took my hand and placed it over Rundy’s crotch and I could feel the heat radiating from it. I shook my head no even as I gently curled my fingers around his bulge.

Dillon leaned in close and whispered, his voice a seductive rasp, “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

I shook my head again, slower this time though. Hesitant. Uncertain. I didn’t even realize I was actually touching Rundy – cupping him – and that my thumb was rubbing against his shaft, coaxing him to a full erection, until it began to pulse and throb beneath my palm. I pulled my hand back as if it had been on a hot burner. What the heck?

“Sure it is,” Dillon continued, his voice a low, steady rumble, that eventually shouted down the better angels in my head. “Go on.”

Rundy has always been a heavy sleeper and he didn’t stir when I began to tentatively explore his body. I ran the back of my hand over his bulge, letting my knuckles gently graze his hard length. My other palm ghosted over his abs and up his chest to cup his pecs, and when my thumb swept across his rubbery nipples like a windshield wiper, I gasped when they hardened into what felt like little boners.

 It went on like this for what felt like hours, one hand continually cupping his fragile sac, kneading it, feeling its heft, while the other roamed over the planes of his chest, the slope of his pecs, the ridges of his abs.

“Mmmnnnggghhh,” I moaned as dream Dillon continued to whisper to me, and I thrashed about as memories of that night in December played on a loop in my head. The feeling of fullness as cock after cock filled me. The sensation of a dick, sometimes two, fucking my mouth. The thrill of being taken, used, dominated. The peace that swept over me when I realized that what was happening felt right. Fitting. Natural.

I woke up. Sun was streaming through the blinds we’d forgotten to close the night before. It was warm, and at some point during the night we’d kicked the top sheet and blanket off. I was aware of Rundy spooning me, his right arm wrapped possessively around me. His breath, warm against my cheek, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

He always moved around in his sleep – we both did – and I’ve lost count of the times I’ve woken to him spooning me, or vice versa. But this morning I was very aware of his morning wood pressing into my crease and it took everything in me not to push back into him.

I was also suddenly aware of the huge load of cum in my briefs.

SHIT! A wet dream? Really? Now?

I eased out of his hold as carefully as I could. As I slid over, he rolled onto his back, grunted, and threw his arm over his face before his breathing eventually evened out and he drifted back to sleep. I let my gaze rake over his body. He was hard – impressively so – his boner straining at the white cotton of his briefs. One of his legs was bent slightly, putting his huge bulge on display.

And then I remembered last night and what I’d done, and I froze. Did that really happen? Did I really feel up my best friend?

No. No way. But even as I denied it, the memory of my hands on him came back to me as clear as the sky outside, and I recalled exploring him, mapping every inch of his body, as if committing him to memory…  The very thought made my dick come charging back to life.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What had I done?

I slipped out of bed, grabbed a pair of clean briefs from the stash in my travel duffel, and stepped into the hall … where I ran smack dab into my dad.

“Shi—shoot, you scared me!” I whispered loudly, jumping nearly a foot, my hand over my heart.

Dad, just back from his morning run and sheened in sweat, arched his eyebrow at my near-swear. He glanced at the underwear balled up in my hand and then down at the front of my briefs. I quickly covered my crotch with my hands and his mouth quirked. “Again, Sport?”

“What?!”

“What do you mean what? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Oh my gosh—”

“I told your mom—”

“You what?! You told Mom???”

“She was worried when she found a pile of your cu—I mean, your… er… dirty underwear, but I told her not to worry. I said it was natural—”

“Natural?!” I heard my voice shoot up an octave.

“Sure.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve all had them.”

“We’ve … all …” An image of my dad having a wet dream flashed through my mind and I felt my dick lurch. I had to struggle to not look down at his crotch. Suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Distantly I was aware that he was still talking. “Like I said, Joaquin, it’s nat—”

“Somebody kill me,” I pleaded, squeezing my eyes shut and covering my ears.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, and I could tell he was smiling as he eased my hands down. I glanced away, avoiding his eyes. “Look at me.” He cupped the side of my face in his palm. “It’s perfectly natural,” he said as his thumb brushed back and forth across my cheek. I turned my head and looked at him. He smiled. “I had the same thoughts and” – he nodded over my shoulder – “urges when I was your age.”

“Wha—” I turned to see what he was looking at and saw Rundy. He was still sleeping, but in the thirty or so seconds I’d been in the hall, he’d managed to sprawl spread-eagle on his back across the width of the mattress. To make matters worse, his morning wood was making a pyramid-sized tent in his briefs.

My head snapped back, “Dad?!”

“What? I said it’s natural.”

“I’m not listening to you,” I said, covering my ears again as I backed toward the bathroom.

He looked down at my crotch and winked at me. “Just be careful with that thing; you could put an eye out.”

“Dad!!” I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it. He knocked a moment later. “Go away,” I said.

“You dropped your underwear.”

I screamed into a towel. I took a deep breath to steady myself and opened the door. I held out my hand and he dropped the briefs into my open palm, then walked away snickering. I closed the door. Hard.

Worst. Father. Ever!

# # #

By the time we got back to school and classes started, the entire campus was buzzing with the news of our engagement. The Dean of Students and the College Chaplain met with us, and a few weeks later we began a required course of premarital counseling.

It turned out that faith-based guidance was just what I needed after the events of the past year. Even though I’d claimed victory over temptation, I knew the Devil would keep trying to ensnare me in his traps. However, being on campus surrounded by so many godly men and women gave me an extra measure of peace.

Our counselors were a married couple and we met weekly, both as a couple, as well as one on one. Doctors Joe and Rebecca explained that faith-based premarital counseling builds a solid, biblical foundation for marriage because it helps the couple have serious conversations about topics that need to be discussed before marriage. The course would cover everything from communication to finances to sex to parenting, all using the Bible as our guidebook.

But it was the mention of overcoming temptation that got my attention. While I wasn’t about to confess to Dr. Joe what had happened to me or what I’d done – that was between me and the Lord – I felt a sense of comfort and peace just knowing that other godly men like me struggled with the temptations of the flesh. The knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my struggles and that there was somebody I could talk to in confidence if I needed to, was a huge relief.

# # #

Between classes and practice and counseling, the semester flew by, and a few weeks before the end of the school year, I realized I hadn’t masturbated or had a wet dream in several weeks. I considered both of those to be personal victories. I know, I know… pride cometh before a fall and all that, but I was proud of my accomplishments. Victory in Jesus.

Before I knew it, finals had arrived. Danielle’s parents were flying out later in the week to drive back to New Mexico with us. Her mom was excited to begin wedding plans. We’d recently decided on a December date and apparently you couldn’t start planning a girl’s big day early enough. Her dad told me he was just along for the ride.

Joyce and Ron arrived Friday morning, just after Danielle’s last final, and after checking into their hotel, spent most of the day helping us pack up our rooms.

“We’ve been having dinner with your folks a couple of times a month,” Danielle’s mom said to me when we dropped them off at their hotel that night.

“Yeah, Mom’s mentioned it a couple of times. She always looks forward to it, and my dad really likes you, Ron.”

“Ah, the feeling’s mutual,” he said. “We seem to have hit it off quite well.”

We left for home early Saturday morning. Ron and I split driving duties the first day, and the four of us spent a companionable drive talking and catching up. We also stopped several times to take in the sights and various local attractions. By the time we checked into our hotel and had dinner, it was late, and we were all beat.

It didn’t dawn on me until the elevator reached our floor that I’d be sharing a room with Danielle’s dad tonight. “Daddy thought it’d be nice to get some one-on-one time,” Danielle whispered as she kissed me good night.

When I entered the room – sort of a suite with its own kitchen – Ron was scowling, one hand on his hip, the other holding the room phone. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I dropped my travel duffel and backpack onto the bed.

“One bed,” he said, pointing to the king-sized bed. I hadn’t even noticed. “I’m on hold with the front desk to see if they can get us a room with two beds.”

I nodded as I grabbed sweatpants and went to the bathroom to change. When I came out a few minutes later he was still frowning.

“What did they say?”

“They’re all booked up,” he groused, “but because I have elite status, they’re giving me free reign of the minibar.” He gestured to the coffee table where he’d set out a variety of snacks as well as several mini bottles of Seagram’s 7 whiskey. He filled two tumblers with ice from the dispenser on the refrigerator, poured in the whiskey, and topped them off with Diet 7-Up. He picked up the glasses and handed one to me. “Cheers.”

“Oh, um, we’re not supposed to drink alcohol.”

“Pfft,” he grunted, holding the glass out until I took it from him. “You’re not in school now and you’re twenty-one. Plus,” he winked, “I insist.”

“Well, in that case,” I said with a grin, clinking my glass to his, “cheers!”

I took a tentative sip, decided I liked it, and took another. Ron drained half his glass in one gulp. “Aaaahhhh, good stuff.” He set his drink down on one of the bedside tables.

He kicked off his shoes – loafers with no socks – and unbuttoned his jeans. He was a handsome guy, a couple of years older than my dad, with blue eyes and wavy, dark blond hair that had a bit of silver at the temples. And he was so cool! I couldn’t believe I was sitting here drinking with my future father-in-law!

I sipped my drink as he continued to undress, and I tried not to watch as he pushed his pants down to reveal snug fitting grey trunks. He stepped out of the jeans, folded them, and set them in his suitcase that was sitting open on the luggage rack.

I almost choked when he turned around. His bulge was huge, and it looked like his underwear was fighting a losing battle to hold him in. I gulped the rest of my drink and set my glass down.

Thankfully he didn’t notice, or if he did, was too nice to say anything. He stretched, his back cracking as he arched, and mixed two more drinks. He handed me one, clinked it with his, and stretched out on the bed. “Take a load off,” he said, patting the spot next to him, “and hand me the remote. Let’s see what’s on TV.”

I tossed him the remote and then climbed onto the bed, drink in hand, making sure to keep a respectable distance between us.

We watched the end of ‘Press my Luck,’ and then he had one more drink as we watched the local news. The newscast wasn’t even halfway over when I started yawning, suddenly so exhausted I could barely see straight.

“I hear you,” Ron said, looking at his watch. “I think it’s time to hit the sack. Joyce wants to get an early start tomorrow. Why don’t you go ahead and wash up first?”

I stood up and staggered a step. “Whoa, you okay there?” he asked.

I nodded. “Just not used to drinking.”

Ron laughed. He had a deep voice, and his laugh was melodious. "Just like your dad."

I looked at him. "Huh? My dad? What do you mean?"

He scratched his flat belly and smiled. “Your dad and I grabbed lunch after church a couple of weeks ago. I didn't realize he didn't drink."

I gasped and then laughed. "Wait, my dad was drunk?"

“Oh no, not drunk," he said. "Nothing so scandalous. A little tipsy maybe.” He smiled. “Well, okay, maybe a lot tipsy.”

I remembered calling my dad a couple of weeks ago, but Mom had said he wasn't feeling well and was lying down. I smiled. “Oh my gosh! What happened?”

He blushed. “Nothing really. Like I said, we went to lunch, I ordered a couple of cocktails for us. I had no idea he didn’t drink, and he never said anything. I actually felt bad. I drove him home and explained what happened to your mom. She thought it was kind of funny. That's it."

I tried to picture my dad drunk. “I can’t wait to tease him about that,” I said as I stripped off my shirt, grabbed my Dopp kit from my travel duffel, and went into the bathroom. I yawned the entire time I brushed my teeth and washed my face. Dang, I was tired.

“All yours,” I said through yet another jaw-cracking yawn when I came out of the bathroom.

He drained his glass and set it down. Then he stood and stripped off his shirt, and holy crap, I didn’t realize how hairy he was! It wasn’t like a carpet or anything; in fact, it looked like he kept it trimmed. But still. I’d never seen hair like that on a guy before, at least not this up close, not even at the gym.

It reminded me of the actor from that show set in Hawaii. He was a private eye or something. Not the remake, though, the original.

Ron’s hair was dark blond with silver at the temples that gave him a silver fox look, but his chest hair was still mostly dark brown, thick, and silky looking, that trailed down to his abdomen and beneath the waistband of his underwear.

I think he caught me looking because he winked as he stepped into the bathroom. Oh gosh, I thought as I stripped off my sweatpants, absently adjusting myself, I hope he doesn’t think I’ve got a man-crush on him or, worse, that I’m perving on him!

I shoved my clothes into my duffel and, too tired to dig for sleep shorts, crawled under the sheets in just my briefs. I listened to the shower run as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

I was drifting off when I remembered I needed to charge my phone. I sat up and swooned. When the room stopped spinning, I plugged in my phone. I reached over to click off my bedside lamp when I noticed something on the floor next to Ron’s suitcase. I bent over to pick it up, nearly face-planting on the carpet, and did a double take. It was a bottle of poppers!

What. The. Heck?! Poppers?

I reread the label. Yup, definitely poppers. But how? And why? I stared at the bottle for at least a minute, suddenly no longer tired, debating what to do. Put them back? Leave them out and pretend I never saw them? Holy shit… Ron had poppers!

As I continued to stare at the little brown bottle, Jack’s voice suddenly sounded in my head: “They smell like happy.” I turned toward the bathroom; the shower was still running. I uncapped the bottle, put it to my nose, and inhaled. Holding my breath, I switched nostrils and took another long sniff.

“Oh fuck…” I moaned – oblivious to the swear – and lay back, closing my eyes as the familiar fumes coursed through me. I don’t know how much later it was when I opened my eyes, but Ron was still in the bathroom, so I took two more hits in each nostril. Then I fumbled the cap back on and flopped onto my back.

The room started to spin again, and I slid my hand into my briefs and wrapped it around my throbbing dick.

I didn’t hear the shower turn off or the bathroom door open, but suddenly the bed dipped, and the bottle was back under my nose. I inhaled automatically. “That’s it, Joaquin,” a voice said softly, putting the bottle to my other nostril. “One more time, Truck Boy.”

Truck Boy…

Oh. Fuck.

# # #

I woke up late, disoriented, unsure for several seconds where I was. When the cobwebs finally cleared, I sat up, drew the covers back, and quickly yanked them back up. A wet dream? Here? Really?

Because I hadn’t had a nocturnal emission in a couple of months, I’d ejaculated a ton. The front of my underwear was still wet, and I could feel the slimy cum cooling on my skin. Then I remembered the poppers by Ron’s luggage and how he’d called me Truck Boy. Wait… No way! Ron?!

I turned my head and saw his open suitcase on the luggage rack. I glanced at the bathroom door and could hear the shower running. I slid to his side of the bed, leaned over, and carefully rifled through the contents of his bag. I noticed the underwear he’d worn last night was on the floor and I resisted the urge to reach for them and sniff them.

Shaking my head, I set them back down and resumed my search. No poppers. Of course there weren’t any poppers. Of course, it had been a dream. What the heck was I thinking?

It had to have been the alcohol, I told myself, because there was no other possible explanation. I mean, poppers? Ron? I laughed.

The shower turned off and I quickly rolled back to my side of the bed and slipped under the blankets.

Ron came out of the bathroom, and I was surprised to see him wearing white briefs. His towel was slung around his shoulders, and he was singing an old Johnny Cash song as he fastened his watch.

“It’s about time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty,” he said as he stuffed his dirty trunks and toiletries bag into his suitcase. As he moved about the room, I couldn’t help but notice the briefs did little to hide his endowment.

He caught me staring and grinned. He pulled on joggers and a Calloway Golf t-shirt, then threw his wet towel at me. “You gonna lay there all day? I’ve already been to the fitness center. Get a move on!”

I looked at the clock and slipped out of bed, keeping my back to him as I shuffled to the bathroom. I peeled off my cum-soaked briefs and shoved them to the bottom of the trash can before jumping into the shower. I was washing my hair when I heard the bathroom door open. I poked my head through the shower curtain and saw Ron. “Forgot my toothbrush,” he said.

He was gone by the time I finished in the bathroom, and I rushed to get ready.

I still felt sluggish when I crawled into the back seat of the Jeep. Because Ron and I had driven yesterday, it was the girls’ turn today. Normally I’d have sat up front with Danielle, but she and Joyce had been talking all things wedding practically nonstop since we left school, and from what I could hear, the marathon didn’t seem to be ending any time soon. Oh well, maybe I could sleep.

“It’s about time,” Ron laughed as he walked up to the Jeep, a drink carrier in one hand, a brown paper bag in the other, and a copy of the New York Times tucked under an arm. He tossed the sack, emblazoned with the name of the hotel’s restaurant, to me. “Here, I got you a breakfast burrito.”

“Oh my gosh, I could kiss you,” I said as I ripped open the wrapper and took a bite. “Mm, sausage,” I moaned around a bite of burrito. “My favorite.”

“I figured you for a sausage guy.” He handed juice and coffees to Danielle and Joyce, and then slid into the backseat, setting the carrier with the remaining to go cups between us.

“Nothing for you?” I asked as I worked the top off the coffee and doctored it with cream and sugar.

“Some of us made it to breakfast,” Joyce chided good-naturedly as she slipped her sunglasses on.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“She’s teasing,” Danielle laughed, reaching back to pat my knee. “Daddy told us you two were up late talking.” She buckled her seatbelt and started the Jeep.

We pulled out of the lot, and my burrito and coffee were history before we were even on the interstate. Danielle and Joyce were chatting away, and Ron was reading the New York Times, so I pulled up one of the audiobooks our pre-marital counselors had recommended, put in my AirPods, and popped the straw into my orange juice.

Our planned route today was through long stretches of flat, grassy plains, and it wasn’t long before the monotonous rumbling of the Jeep’s tires eating up the miles of highway lulled me to sleep.

When I opened my eyes, the sun was high overhead. How long had I been out? Danielle and Joyce were chattering on – had they even stopped? – and there was a hand rubbing my crotch.

What the heck?!

My eyes cut over to Ron. He’d slid closer while I’d been sleeping. His phone was in his left hand, scrolling through a news app, and the other was under the thin blanket that was covering our lower bodies, working me through my joggers.

“Easy now, Joaquin,” he said quietly, not looking up from the screen of his phone. His voice was light and easy going but carried a firm warning. “You don’t want Danielle or my wife to hear, do you?”

He turned his head slightly and his eyes, flat and cold, met mine. “I’m not going to tell Danielle, but I could tell Danielle… Truck Boy.”

Truck Boy. I caught his eye. He winked. I froze.

“That’s right, I know all about you,” he said, his mouth curving into a smile as he gave my dick a squeeze. “I’ve even seen the video.” I felt as if somebody had just pulled the rug out from under me.

He thumbed the news app closed and, giving my dick another squeeze – oh fuck, why was I hard? – opened his camera roll and angled the screen so I could see it. My eyes went wide, and I swallowed. Oh crap.

“Then I saw you at the Pride Festival in December,” he said casually as he swiped through several pictures of me with Ross and Van. “You were with these two guys, and when I saw you go to that hotel with them, I decided to follow you.”

I glanced at him and then back at his phone. The next series of pics showed me on the balcony of Ross and Van’s hotel room in various stages of undress. I recalled the night and my decision to ‘get it all out of my system.’ Ross and Van had gotten me drunk and high and then stripped me naked in full view of dozens of spectators.

Ron zoomed in on a few of the pictures. In the first shot, I was leaning against Ross, shirt pushed up under my armpits, jeans down to my knees, the erection in my briefs jutting out obscenely. In the next, my dick, flush and erect, was out, and the waistband of my underwear was tucked under my balls. Ross’s hand was wrapped around it, masturbating me. The final pic was actually a video of me tossing my briefs to the crowd.

“I’ve got more videos too. Wanna see?” I shook my head, but he opened another file anyway. It was taken from above and showed me on my knees sucking a dick. A little brown bottle – poppers – were put to my nose and then a second dick slid in next to the first.

Realization hit me: Dillon.

My mouth was suddenly dry. I looked at Ron, and as if he read my mind, he nodded. “Dillon and I go way back. That’s how Danielle got the job at Fork.”

I continued to watch the video, mesmerized at the way the two dicks pistoned in and out of my mouth. As I watched myself greedily suck and slurp, I remembered that two guys – Billy and Trevor I think were their names – had come to the door holding the briefs I’d thrown from the balcony. They were looking for some kind of prize, and as a reward, I’d offered to give them a blow job.

Ron nudged me and I turned my attention back to the phone screen just as one of the dicks eased out of my mouth, cum bubbling over my lips. The next moment, it shot all over my face. I gasped.

“And that’s the money shot,” he said as the video ended. I looked at him and he nodded at his phone. He plugged headphones into it, put one in my ear and the other in his, and opened another video file.

I was lying on a bed in just my underwear. My eyes were open, but they were glassy-looking, and I seemed out of it. Something about the bedding was familiar and I realized it was the hotel room from last night. I looked over at Ron. He smiled and pressed play.

“Mmm… cock,” I heard myself say before a dick – his dick! – slid into my mouth.

“Mmpph, ohhh, mmmpphh, ohhhhh…”

“That’s right. You can’t get enough of this sausage, can you?” I heard his voice say over the sucking and slurping noises.

Oh my gosh… the breakfast burrito he brought me this morning. Sausage. ‘I figured you for a sausage guy.’ My dick lurched at the memory, and I squirted a little bit of pre-cum.

I pulled an earbud out. “What do you want?”

Instead of replying, he pushed my hand behind my back. “Keep it there,” he ordered in a low whisper as he tugged at my joggers. I obeyed, eyes glued to the rearview mirror, as he worked my pants down to mid-thigh. If either Danielle or her mom turned around—his calloused hand pulling my dick out of my briefs cut off the thought. I swallowed heavily.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from squealing when Ron began to scrub the rough pad of his thumb over the swollen cap of my penis. I had to fight to keep from crying out as he continued to brush it back and forth, deliberately teasing me.

I was so frightened of Danielle seeing me – it was her dad, for fuck’s sake – that all I could do was submit to his ministrations. And, as wrong as it was, it felt so damn good!

It took only moments for me to completely cave. I slumped deeper into my seat, my joggers now at my ankles, and spread my legs wide like a whore to grant him greater access.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” he rasped under his breath as he began to pump my cock. “You’re such a horny slut.” His words went through me like a rumble strip, and my dick was so slick with pre-cum that his hand slid easily up and down my rigid shaft.

The windows were down, and air whipped through the Jeep, but I could still feel sweat under my arms and even in the crack of my butt. Thankfully, the rushing wind masked the small squeaks I was making.

Prior to today, I’d only ever lasted maybe a minute when I masturbated. My goal when jerking off is always to achieve a quick release for immediate relief. Apparently, Ron had something different in mind because he kept bringing me to the cusp of ejaculation before easing off. He did this over and over and over again as the miles flew by, grinning maliciously as I squirmed.

Every time he thumbed my fat plum, it was all I could do to keep from screaming. At one point, my eyes were rolling back like the reels of a slot machine as pre-cum flowed freely from my dick, easing the slip-slide of his hand as he fisted my ramrod stiff dick. The only thing masking the pungent odor of my spunk was the smell of manure coming from the acres and acres of pastureland we were driving past. Even when we closed the windows, the smell permeated the Jeep.

Then he restarted the video and made me watch the entire thing as he masturbated me.  

The camera was on me as he spoke. “Come on, Joaquin,” he said, as a small brown bottle was put to my nose. I heard myself inhale. “Yeah, that’s it, Truck Boy.”

“Truck Boy,” I whispered slowly. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Oh fuck is right,” he said as he put the poppers back to my nose and I sniffed again. “Come on, one more. Now another. And another.”

The camera jumped as he stood and pulled me into a sitting position, wedging himself between my spread legs. I gazed up at him and watched as he once again put the poppers to my nose.

He dropped his towel, and his cock sprang up from a nest of neatly trimmed pubes. It was magnificent, at least eight inches long, and thick. He was circumcised and the head was the size of a small apple and smooth as glass. He fisted his hand in my hair and guided it to my mouth.

I looked up at him again, my lips slightly parted. Then I leaned forward, wrapped my hand around his shaft, and took him in.

“That’s it,” he said as he brushed my hair from my eyes. “Such a good cocksucker. Oh yeah, you’re a fucking natural.”

“Mm,” I sighed as he pushed all the way in and then slowly pulled out. I opened my mouth and swirled my tongue over the head, dipping my tongue into the slit and drawing out pre-cum. Even now I could feel the pulse of his cock.

He put a hand under my chin and tilted my head up. “Ungh,” I grunted as his cock slipped from my mouth. I reached for it, but he shoved the poppers under my nose. I moaned and saw my other hand drift into my lap and began rubbing the bulge in my briefs.

“Oh fuck, this is awesome,” Ron said. “My daughter’s marrying a cocksucker. Looks like I can get my dick wet whenever I want.”

“Mmm… cock,” I mumbled. I licked my lips, licked his thick veiny shaft, and then took him all back in.

“That’s right,” he said as he settled into a rhythm, his hips pumping back and forth as he pummeled my mouth. “You can’t get enough cock, can you?”

“Mmpph, ohhh, mmmpphh, ohhhhh…” I moaned, slipping my hand into my briefs to pull my hard, needy cock out.

“Uh-uh,” he snapped, slapping at my hand. “Leave it alone.”

I whimpered my disappointment, which only made him laugh and quicken his pace. His thrusts became almost frantic after that, and I did my best to keep pace, but when pre-cum and spit began to seep from the corners of my mouth, I reached up to wipe my chin with the back of my hand.

His body tensed and shuddered, and then he was cumming, his load filling my mouth. I swallowed – was that instinct? – doing my best to catch it all. Moments later, I saw my body shudder and my eyelids fluttered. Was that my orgasm?

After what seemed an eternity, he pulled out of my mouth and gave me a gentle push. I fell back onto the bed, cum and drool pooling at the corners of my mouth and dribbling down my chin. The camera panned down, showing my hand, still on my crotch, which was wet with my own cum. Oh my gosh, I’d creamed myself!

He picked up my hand and put it to my mouth. “Lick,” he instructed, and dang if I didn’t dutifully lap up the sticky mess.

He dragged his thumb across my soaked briefs again and stuck it into my mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and once again I obeyed. He laughed as he slid his thumb in and out of my mouth, fucking it.

The video ended.

I turned to Ron, mortified, and opened my mouth to – what? – but his eyes flicked toward the front seat. I followed his gaze, relieved to see Danielle and her mom still engrossed in conversation, chatting animatedly about wedding announcements and colors and flowers, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding behind them.

I looked back at Ron. He smiled and pocketed his phone.

"There’s a Flying J up ahead,” Joyce announced suddenly, surprising both of us and momentarily breaking the tension. “Does anybody need to pee?"

“Me!” I said loudly. I glanced up and saw a sign that said 'Gas, food, and lodging: 3 miles.’ Thank goodness!

Of course, for those next three miles, Ron worked my dick like nothing ever in my life.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Danielle slowed and exited the highway. We took an old frontage road for a few hundred yards, and the bumps and potholes helped to mask the fact that her dad had me practically bouncing on the seat as he relentlessly frigged my bone.

I wanted to scream and cry and beg him to stop, and at the same time I wanted to scream and cry and beg him to continue.

When Danielle rolled the windows down again, the rushing wind whisked away the sounds of my whimpers. And then, just when I started to ejaculate, Ron tucked me back into my briefs and I filled them with my load.

I was still panting and catching my breath when Danielle pulled into a parking space. I yanked my joggers up, grabbed my backpack from behind me, and jumped from the Jeep before she even had it in park.

"Boy, somebody's gotta go!" I heard Joyce laugh as I sped toward the entrance, in search of the men’s room.

I found an empty stall and stripped off my shoes and joggers. Using a dry section of my briefs, I cleaned up as best as I could, then pulled on clean underwear and a pair of black shorts. When I finally caught my breath, I exited the stall and tossed the soiled briefs in the trash.

“Why did you change?” Danielle asked when I found her, Joyce, and Ron in the food court a few minutes later.

“Uh, it was getting a little warm back there.”

“What do you feel like for lunch?” Joyce asked, pointing to several menus overhead.

I looked at the options. “I’ll have the western burger and fries.”

“We should get it to go,” she said, looking at her watch.

“Get me a number one with onion rings, will you?” Ron said to her as he started walking away.

“Where’re you going?”

“Getting some snacks for the road,” he called over his shoulder.

Ten minutes later we were back in the Jeep waiting for Ron. He sauntered up a couple of minutes later with a bag full of chips, jerky, and candy in one hand, and his backpack in the other. I didn’t like the big smile on his face.

Joyce got behind the wheel and pulled out of the lot. When we were back on the highway, Ron unzipped his backpack and leaned it my way: the briefs I’d tossed away were inside, tucked into a clear plastic bag, along with what looked like the ones I thrown away this morning.

“What’re you doing?” I asked as I reached for the bag.

He pulled the backpack out of my reach. “Are you kidding?” he whispered. “Truck Boy’s tighty whities? I can get a fuck-ton for these online.”

I gaped at him, and he leaned in close. “Like I said: I’m not going to tell Danielle… but I could tell Danielle.” I narrowed my eyes, but he met my stare and I had to look away. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

“What’re you two whispering about back there?” Danielle asked, leaning over the backseat.

I looked up. “Huh?”

Ron tugged the backpack’s zipper closed. “Joaquin’s just telling me where he’s thinking of taking you for the honeymoon.”

“Ooooh! He hasn’t told me yet!”

“You’re going to love it.”

 

We stopped at more tourist traps and scenic pull-offs along the way, and I spent most of the time trying to avoid Ron while not looking like I was trying to avoid him. My head was spinning the entire time. If he was going to out me to Danielle, wouldn’t he have done so by now? Maybe he was planning to use what he knew to somehow keep me in line down the road?  Or maybe – and I shuddered, unsure if with fear or excitement – did he plan to continue to use me for his own pleasure?

That option, for some reason, gave me a raging boner.

For his part, Ron played it cool, laughing and joking like he hadn’t spent the better part of the day jerking me off in the back seat. He was a real smooth operator. Or a sociopath.

 

Our hotel that night was a little way outside of Oklahoma City and, once again, Ron and I were sharing a room. A room, as it just so happened, that had only one bed.

While we freshened up and changed for dinner, I called my parents to keep some kind of barrier around myself so I wouldn’t have to engage with Ron. That plan backfired, though, because my mom and dad wanted to talk to Ron and suggested I put the call on video (after we’d changed clothes, of course). It was the longest five minutes of my life, standing next to Ron, his arm slung around my shoulder, while he and my parents chatted and made plans to get together when we returned.

My sigh of relief may have been audible when Joyce and Danielle knocked on our door.

Thankfully Joyce had made dinner reservations a few weeks earlier because the hotel restaurant – a well-known local steakhouse, as it turned out – was busy. It looked like it was prom night or something because I counted at least a dozen couples dressed in formal wear seated throughout the dining rooms.

The hostess seated us near a table of three prom couples and handed us menus. “Steve will be your server tonight,” she informed us before she departed.

Danielle and I were weighing dinner options when our waiter – Steve, I assumed – approached. He was tall and handsome, probably in his late twenties, with brown hair and brown eyes, broad shoulders, and a trim waist.

“Good evening,” he said when he reached our table. “I’m Steve and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like to start with a drink?”

Ron and Joyce ordered wine, Danielle asked for sparkling water with a wedge of lemon, and I chose Dr. Pepper. Steve went to put in our drink our order, and a few minutes later another young man – Carson – delivered our drinks. He looked to be my and Danielle’s age, and like Steve, was tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His hair was lighter though, a little grown out, and he wore it tucked behind his ears. I thought he did a double-take when he saw me, but his face was a blank slate when he set our drinks down. I figured my mind must be playing tricks on me again.

It looked like the table of promgoers was getting ready to leave because a busboy was clearing away plates and silverware. I noticed two of the girls didn’t look very happy and I didn’t think the night was going to end well for their dates.

Steve returned just then and took our orders. While we waited for our food, I forced myself to participate in the conversation to try to keep my mind occupied. When dinner arrived, I was almost too nervous to eat because I was on edge about the rest of the night.

My mind kept going back to my earlier thoughts: did Ron have some kind of agenda? It was clear he wasn’t going to out me; he’d have already done so if that was his intent. And it was a given that he could use what he knew to keep me in check. No, I was sure he was going to use me for his pleasure, which he’d already demonstrated earlier in the back seat of the Jeep. And fuck if that hadn’t been exhilarating and terrifying at the same time!

 A part of me was repulsed at how I’d reacted to him – at how quickly my wanton desires and needs had resurfaced – but a part of me wanted more. No, needed more. Craved more. And, judging by the swelling in my briefs and the pressure against my zipper, it was clear which part was winning out.

Ron received a call midway through dinner, and when he excused himself to take it, I decided to answer the call of nature.

I was turning down the short hallway to the restrooms when I spotted Ron at the bar talking to Carson. They were looking at something on Ron’s phone and Carson was nodding animatedly. Ron put his hand on Carson’s arm and then, as though he sensed he was being watched, looked up. I quickly ducked out of sight and made a beeline to the men’s room, hoping he hadn’t seen me.

The bathroom was empty so there were no witnesses to my near panic attack. As I peed and then washed my hands, I couldn’t help but wonder what Ron had been doing talking to Carson. I thought Carson had recognized me and now I was sure of it. But why would Ron be talking to him?

Unless…

They’d been looking at Ron’s phone… That dang Truck Boy video!

No. No freaking way, I told myself as I paced back and forth, taking deep breaths to calm myself as I grabbed a wad of paper napkins to dry my hands. I was being paranoid, jumping to conclusions. It was all a coincidence. And besides, no way would Ron be so reckless—

The bathroom door opened just then, and an older gentleman walked in. I glanced at my watch and was shocked at how long I’d been gone. I tossed the paper towels into the trash and made my way back to the table as nonchalantly as I could.

Of course, Ron was seated finishing his dinner. He looked up, one eyebrow arched, as I approached. “Sorry,” I stammered as I slid into my chair. “I got lost looking for the bathrooms.”

 

We had cheesecake for dessert and then Ron ordered champagne. He told the waiter it was an impromptu toast to our engagement, and I was struck once again at how smooth and slick he was. How had I not seen this side of him before?

I felt a little buzzed after my second glass of champagne and looked at Ron. He wouldn’t be so brazen as to put something in my drink, would he? He must’ve seen the question in my eyes because he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Danielle asked.

Ron smiled. “I think your fiancé might’ve had too much to drink, honey. The Kangas men don’t seem to have a very high tolerance for alcohol, isn’t that right, Joaquin?”

Danielle looked at her dad questioningly. “The Kangas men? What do you mean?” Ron retold the story of his lunch with my dad and Danielle giggled. “Oh my gosh. I can just see it now. I bet your dad was adorable.”

Ron paid the bill and then led us through the maze of tables and back to the lobby. We took the elevator to our floor and stopped outside the girls’ room. Ron pecked Danielle on the cheek and then kissed Joyce. “What should we do while this one here sleeps it off?” he said, ruffling my hair good-naturedly.

“I’m fine,” I protested, ducking away from his touch.

“Champagne does that to me too,” Joyce said. “Just give it a few minutes and it’ll pass.” Then she turned to Ron, “I think I’m just going to take a nice long bath and turn in. I’m beat.”

“I’m going to FaceTime Tammy,” Danielle said, her phone already out. “I saw a few things in my new bridal magazine I want to show her.” She looked at me. “Make sure you drink plenty of water before you go to bed. You don’t want to have a hangover.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m not drunk! I’m okay. For real.”

She started fussing over me, and when I made a face, she punched me playfully on the arm. “Quit being such a baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of our boy,” Ron said, ruffling my hair again.

We said good night and as soon as their door closed, he took my arm and steered me down the hall, past our room.

“Where are we going?”

“To get a drink.”

“What?”

We went back to the restaurant and headed to the bar, where I saw Carson chatting with customers as he mixed drinks. There were no seats available at the bar, so I found an empty booth while Ron ordered. Carson delivered our drinks a couple of minutes later – 7&7’s – along with waters and some chips and salsa. “Here you go, Ron.”

Were they on a first name basis now? I took a big gulp of my drink – probably a mistake – and gave Ron a suspicious look before I turned to take in the scene around me. The bar was full, a mix of men and women in both casual and more formal dress. Lots of cowboys too, I observed.

I recognized two of the guys talking to Carson as promgoers who’d been seated near us at dinner; the two whose dates didn’t look like they were having a good time.

They cast a furtive glance my way, and judging by the way they were carrying on with Carson, I figured they were friends. I noticed they’d ditched their suit jackets and cummerbunds, probably not long after being ditched by their dates.

 Ron must’ve noticed too, because he said, “I wonder if their dates wouldn’t put out.”

“What?”

“Your admirers at the bar,” he nodded. “They’re here without their dates, and considering how keyed up they seem, I have a feeling they’ve got a case of blue balls.”

“Oh my gosh, is that what you were doing with the bartender – with Carson – earlier?”

He looked amused. “What’s that now? What was I doing?”

“P-p-pimping me out.”

He laughed. “Pimping you out?”

“I saw you!” I snapped, furious. “You were at the bar showing him something on your phone!”

“Hmm, yes. I thought I saw you spying on me.”

“S-s-spying?” I spluttered. “What the heck were you doing?

“Calm down, Joaquin,” he said in an even voice as he took a sip of his drink. “And watch your tone.”

I pursed my lips and glared at him, biting back the retort that was on the tip of my tongue.

“Oh, don’t be such a fucking drama queen,” he said, and his words hit me like a slap. I took a long drink from my glass. “Yes, if you must know, I was lining up a little after-dinner action for you.”

My jaw dropped. “After-dinner act—What?!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He reached under the booth and cupped me through my pants. “You’re hard as a plank. Admit it, just the thought of it gives you a boner.”

A whimper escaped my lips as I pushed into his touch. I thrust a few times, enjoying the friction of my dick as it pressed against his hand. When I finally looked up, I froze. Carson and his two friends were staring at us.

“Dang it.” I finished my drink.

Ron opened his mouth to respond just as Carson strolled over carrying a tray holding two drinks. “Compliments of the gentlemen at the bar,” he said.

Ron finished the drink he had and then took the one presented to him, raised it, and waved the guys over.

“What’re you doing?” I whispered as Carson collected our empties and left.

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious their dates bailed on them, and it’s obvious they know who you are. I mean, you want to get fucked tonight, don’t you?”

“Oh my gosh, keep your voice down!” I pleaded, nearly cumming in my pants. This was not happening. I was not talking to my future father-in-law about this! What the heck was wrong with me? I grabbed my new drink and downed half of it, signaling Carson for another.

The two young men stood and as they made their way over, I got my first good look at them.

The taller of the two, a blond with close-cropped hair, brown eyes, and a smile like Tom Cruise, showed a bit of swagger as he approached. His shoulders were as wide as our booth and, like practically every other guy in the bar tonight, was built the cowboy way.

“’Sup?” he said, one side of his mouth curving up into a smile as he looked us over.

Ron set his glass down and half-rose, sweeping his arm out in a gesture for them to join us. “I’m Ron and this is Joaquin. Have a seat.”

“Aaron,” he said as he slid in next to Ron.

“Hi, I’m Braeden,” the other guy said, reaching out to shake our hands.

He had dark brown hair and grey-green eyes, and was built like Aaron – only not quite as tall. I surmised they played football.

Braeden got into the booth next to me, and Carson came over. He nodded to my glass. “Did you want another?”

“Yes, please,” I said as I finished by glass.

“I’ll have another as well,” Ron said. “Make it a double.”

“You want another Coke?” Carson asked Braeden and Aaron as he put our empty glasses on his tray.

“Or maybe you boys want something stronger?” Ron suggested.

“We’re not twenty-one,” Braeden said.

“And we ain’t boys,” Aaron bristled.

“Besides, we had some in the car before we came in,” Braeden said.

“Don’t let my manager here you say that,” Carson said. He departed to fill our order, and nobody said much until he returned a few minutes later. “I’m off in five minutes,” he said. He set our drinks down along with more chips and salsa, then handed the tray to another server.

“What’re you boys up to tonight?” Ron asked, and I saw a flash of irritation pass between Aaron and Braeden at the word ‘boys.’ “I couldn’t help but notice your dates aren’t here.”

Instead of responding, Aaron turned to me. “You’re the guy from that video, aren’t you? Truck Boy, right?”

Even though I was expecting the question, it still shocked me. I grabbed my drink and downed a third of it.

“Dude, maybe take it easy with that?” Braeden suggested, putting his hand on my forearm.

“It’s easier for him when he’s a little fucked up,” Ron said. “Isn’t that right, Truck Boy?”

I glared at him over the rim of my glass – why was I letting him press my buttons like this? – then set it down. It wasn’t a good idea to get drunk, especially when I didn’t know what Ron had in store for me. I looked into three pairs of expectant eyes and gave a tight nod.

“Well then,” Aaron said with a smile, “don’t let us stop you. Drink up.”

 “So,” Braeden interjected haltingly. He must’ve realized his hand was still on my arm because he quickly removed it. “What you’re saying is, if I, um, I mean, um, if a guy had a need to, um—”

“Yes, he’ll suck you off,” Ron said. “You can fuck him too.,”

“Whoa, you get straight to the point, don’t you?” Aaron said.

Ron threw his head back and laughed. “I guess I do.”

Aaron took Ron’s drink from his hand and drained it. “You got a room here, right?” When Ron nodded, Aaron continued, “Then how about we move this party somewhere more private?”

# # #

Carson joined us and the five of us walked through the lobby to the bank of elevators. I was definitely feeling my drinks, because when we reached our floor, I stumbled out of the elevator and practically staggered down the hall to our room.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought Ron was weaving a little as well, and I tried to remember how many drinks he’d had, how many we’d both had.

We reached the room and Ron let us inside. He closed the door and turned to me. “Strip.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded, but started to take my clothes off.

“Whoa, I’m not a fag, man,” Aaron said as I kicked off my shoes and pulled my shirt over my head. “I’m just looking for a blow job and maybe a hole.”

“Just relax,” Ron said. “How about a drink? Give me a hand here, Carson.”

Ron and Carson mixed cocktails for everybody while I finished undressing. I felt self-conscious standing in the center of the room in nothing but my underwear, completely erect, pitching the mother of all tents. Carson handed me a drink and I took it, putting my free hand over my crotch.

“Oh, come on,” Ron cajoled as he moved my hand. “Why so shy?”

When I didn’t respond, he continued. “See? You know you want this. Am I wrong?”

My breath hitched and I shook my head.

“Was that so hard to admit?”

I shook my head again and he squeezed my dick. When I gasped, he reached out and gave me a light slap on the cheek. “Then fucking say, ‘Thank you, Ron.’”

“Thank you, Ron,” I rasped.

The guys laughed and I knew my face was red with shame. And lust. I took a gulp of my drink and set the glass down. My dick was so hard I thought it was going to rip a hole through my briefs.

Ron rummaged through his suitcase and tossed several condoms and a tube of lube onto the coffee table. “On your knees now.”

I obeyed, my body trembling with both fear and anticipation. As my knees hit the carpet, I asked myself what happened. Why was I doing this? How had I in less than a week, gone from being a godly example to so many others, to such a sinful, carnal man? Hadn’t I conquered this months ago? Hadn’t I gotten these desires out of my system once and for all back in December? I’d been doing so well all semester too! Sure, there’d been a wet dream or two early on – before counseling – but that was natural, wasn’t it? So, what had changed? And so drastically?

Braeden scurrying forward interrupted my thoughts, and my eyes went wide as he hurriedly stripped down. His sculpted chest reminded me of Rundy’s – all smooth planes and angles – and his abs almost made me jealous. Almost. He tossed his shirt aside and then pushed his pants down to reveal tight fire-engine-red trunks. His excitement was evident, both by the tent he was pitching as well as by the quarter-sized wet spot where the head of his cock pressed against the fabric of his underwear.

He eagerly pushed his trunks down to mid-thigh and thrust forward and into my waiting mouth.

“Oh fuck, Aaron!” he gasped as I took him all the way to the back of my throat. “Oh man! He’s doing it. He’s really doing it. He’s sucking my dick!”

I’d barely gotten my lips wrapped around his long, thin shaft when his hips began to thrust like out-of-control pistons.

“Oh no! Oh shit… I think I’m gonna… Oh shit, oh shit, I’m gonna… Oh fuck! Oh fuck! I’m cumming!” he babbled as he began to ejaculate.

He leaned forward, putting his hands on my shoulders to brace himself as he unloaded. He may have cum quick, but it was a gusher, and I struggled to swallow it all. Of course, with him pressing down on me, I was unable to pull back, and his cum spilled over my lips.

“Fuck but that’s awesome!” Aaron crowed, laughing at the spectacle of his buddy’s spunk running down my chin.

Braeden pulled out, clearly embarrassed at how quickly he’d blown, and tugged his underwear up. “Oh wow!” he muttered as he stumbled backwards, tumbling onto the couch. “That was intense!”

“You never had your dick sucked before, boy?” Ron said from his perch on the arm of the couch. He took another sip of his drink. “You blew pretty hard and fast there.”

Braeden blushed furiously and pulled on his t-shirt.

“Aw, come on now. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Ron said. He held up his now empty glass and shook it, ice rattling. “How about you boys make us some new drinks and then Aaron can have his turn with Truck Boy.”

Carson looked irritated as he rounded up the empty glasses and joined Aaron at the kitchenette bar. As he mixed up a fresh round, I noticed Aaron digging in his pants pockets like he was searching for something. He leaned toward Carson, and I couldn’t see what he was doing because he’d angled his body, but it looked like he handed him something.

When the drinks were ready, Aaron handed one to Braeden and Ron. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like he winked at Braeden when Ron took a sip of his.

Carson knelt in front of me. “I’m looking forward to my turn,” he said softly as he put a glass to my lips and poured the drink in, tilting my head back so I wouldn’t spill anything.

I swallowed about a third of the drink before Aaron strutted up. He’d stripped down to just his underwear and wasn’t shy showing off his body. I was sure now that he played football, because he was built like a running back: strong upper body with big, strong thighs, and tapered lower legs.

Like Braeden, his upper body was mostly smooth, but his legs were covered with a light dusting of hair. His dick looked huge and thick in his black briefs and thrust out like a diving board. Like Braeden, there was a noticeably wet, shiny spot on his underwear, only much bigger.

“I haven’t gotten off all week,” he said as he grabbed my hair and tilted my head up, “so be a good girl and do your thing.”

I was so focused on the bulge in his underwear that his ‘be a good girl’ crack didn’t register. I licked my lips and he laughed. I leaned forward and ran my nose and mouth up and down the length of his hard shaft, pre-cum smearing under my nose and along the seam of my lips. Then I reached out with both hands, curled them beneath the elastic waistband of his briefs, and slowly pulled them down.

His dick, red and hard and wet, sprung out and bounced off the end of my nose. My eyes practically crossed as I tried to track its back-and-forth movement, and that elicited another laugh from the room, and Aaron took it as an opportunity to showboat. He grabbed his erection with one hand and slapped my face with it, then traced the big, cum-slicked, mushroom crown over my cheek bones, under my eyes, and around my lips, as if marking his territory.

He was laughing the entire time, more sneering-like and less good-naturedly. But he quit his taunts and teasing once I took him inside.

“Oh fuck! That mouth!” he moaned.

“Right?” That was Braeden.

“Yeah, suck it like it’s your girl’s titty!”

Ron laughed. “Good luck with that. Truck Boy’s a virgin – well, with girls anyway. I don’t think he’s ever seen a titty in real life.”

Aaron snorted a laugh. “Ah, then suck it like the cocksucker you are.”

I pulled off and swirled my tongue over the head. Then I licked up one side of the shaft and down the other, before taking him back into my mouth.

He moaned and pushed into the hot, wet heat of my mouth. “Fuuuuuck…”

He spread his legs shoulder-width apart, laced his fingers behind his head, and began to thrust his hips back and forth, settling into an rhythm as he fucked my mouth. I sucked and slurped, easily keeping pace with him. I wondered if I was the first guy he’d ever been with.

I don’t know where that thought came from, but for some reason, I wanted to make this the best blow job he’d ever had, despite how shitty he’d been to me. I pulled off again, wrapped my hand around the turgid shaft, and worked his length with my hand while tonguing his balls. After a while, I switched up, swallowing his cock again as I gently massaged his sac with my hand. Then I pulled off, kissed the head of his cock, and dragged it over my lightly stubbled jaw.

“What the fuck?!” he squealed as he grabbed my head with both hands and shoved his dick back into his mouth. “Too sensitive!”

I smiled around the invading length and resumed my ministrations, losing myself in sucking and slurping and swallowing, holding onto the backs of his muscled thighs to keep my balance.

I lost track of time and was surprised when Aaron suddenly pulled out and took a step back. He grabbed me by my hair – not roughly, just enough to hold me in place – and took his cock in hand. He gave it two quick tugs and it erupted like Vesuvius.

The first shot hit me between the eyes with an audible splat. I tried to turn my head, but his hand in my hair prevented me from moving, and I could only close my eyes as seven subsequent spurts painted my face and neck.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” he gasped as he staggered back, pitching wildly, his arms flailing to keep balance. He barely managed to keep his feet, and then, with a shit-kicking grin, pulled up his briefs and snapped the waistband.

I knew before the laughter started that I’d cum in my underwear.

 

Carson was next. He wasn’t nervous and fumbling like Braeden, or snarking and bullying like Aaron. He was actually… nice. Well, as nice as a guy can be with his cock down your throat.

“You’re really good at this, Joaquin,” he said softly, as he brushed my hair out of my eyes. I nodded my thanks, his hairy balls slapping against my chin as I did.

As I continued to suck, I started to zone out a bit and I figured I was just tired. Heck, I’d already sucked off Braeden and Aaron.

It was a bit like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Or was that Goldilocks and the Three Cocks?

Braeden hadn’t lasted more than thirty seconds before he shot his load and I’d had to move fast to swallow it all.

Aaron had lasted quite a bit longer, and when he eventually came, he’d pulled out and shot all over my face, keeping one hand cupped on the back of my head to hold me in place as his spurting dick hosed me down.

Carson was different though. He was gentle with me, as if he genuinely liked me, and that in and of itself was a turn on.

 

 “Tell me, are you as good a cocksucker as Truck Boy over there?” I heard Aaron say, and I cut my eyes over to where he was sitting next to Ron on the couch.

“What?” Ron said. I detected a slight slur to his voice. “Nah, I’m no cocksucker, boy.”

“You sure about that, Daddy?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah,” Aaron pointed to Ron’s reflection in the large mirror on the wall. “You’re Daddy as fuck.”

“Daddy as fuck?” Ron chuckled as he checked himself out in the mirror. “Huh, I’ve never heard that before, but I guess you’re right.”

“So, are you?”

Ron looked confused. “Am I what?”

“As good a cocksucker as Truck Boy.” He picked up Ron’s drink, pressed it into his hand, and brought it to his mouth. “You gonna suck me and then let me fuck you?”

Ron snorted. “Not my scene, boy.” He took a long drink. “I’m a top.”

“Can we test that?”

Ron crunched a piece of ice. “Are you flirting with me now?”

“Is it working?” He ran his hand lightly up and down Ron’s arm before he let it come to rest on his thigh.

“I told you, boy,” Ron said, finishing his drink, “I’m no cocksucker.”

“That’s too bad because you got a real purdy mouth.”

“Quoting ‘Deliverance’ now?”

Aaron grinned. He took Ron’s empty glass and set it down. Then he squeezed Ron’s bicep. “Ooooh, look at all these muscles on you.”

“What?” Ron slurred again and he sounded thrown off by the sudden change of topic.

“These muscles,” Aaron repeated, reaching over and squeezing both biceps. Then he stood and pulled Ron to his feet. “Damn, Daddy, let’s get this shirt off you so we can see what you’ve got!”

Ron protested weakly, but Aaron ignored him, easily manhandling him as he stripped the shirt up and over his head. “Do you work out, Daddy?”

Ron blushed, swaying slightly. “Some,” he said, his voice sounding thicker, a little sluggish even. “When I’ve got time.”

“Looks like you have lots of time,” Aaron said, his fingers stroking lightly over Ron’s upper arms. He moved behind him and put his hands on the older man’s hips, easing him back so he was leaning against him. He slid his big hands up Ron’s hairy torso and cupped his pecs. “Shit, these are huge, Daddy,” he said as he thumbed Ron’s eraser-sized nipples.

“They’re bigger than Kelly’s!” Braeden said.

“Fuck you,” Aaron laughed as he openly fondled Ron’s pecs, kneading them and gently pinching the big nipples. Ron began to moan, and I could see the clear outline of his erect dick in his jeans. “Oh shit, check this out, guys! His nips are getting hard!”

Ron batted at Aaron’s hands, shaking his head as he tried to push away from Aaron. “I told you I’m not like that.”

“You sure about that?” he said again as he held Ron in place. I could hear the challenge in his voice. “Because your dick is saying something else.”

Ron looked down at the bulge in his jeans and seemed surprised. He shook his head. “N-no. I-I-I’m a top.”

Aaron cupped Ron’s pecs again and rolled the eraser-sized nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Ron moaned and slumped back against him.

“Mmmm…”

“Shhh… that’s better,” Aaron said. “Now let’s see what we’ve got down here.” He popped the button on Ron’s jeans and eased the fly down.

“Oooh, look, Daddy’s wearing tighty whities too,” Braeden announced as Aaron spread the flaps and tugged Ron’s pants down to his thighs, revealing his bulging white briefs.

“I told you they were both fags,” Aaron said.

“Not a fag,” Ron protested, but cut off in a whimper when Aaron pinched his nipple.

Braeden laughed. “Why? Because they’re wearing briefs? Newsflash, dumbass, you’re wearing briefs.”

“Yeah, but they ain’t whitie tighties,” Aaron shot back, snapping the waistband of his black Hanes. “And they ain’t fancy designer ones like these.” With one hand still playing with Ron’s nipple, he leaned forward to peer at the waistband of his briefs. “Lands’ End? What the fuck is that? And Truck Boy’s wearing Calvin Kleins.”

“So what?”

“So what? Because only male models and fags wear designer undies, and I don’t think either of them are models.”

“Oh my god, how’d you make that leap? And watch what you say because Carson’s gay. And he’s your cousin.”

“Carson’s different. He’s cool, so fuck off and help me get these off.” He pointed at Ron’s jeans.

Braeden got down on his knees in front of Ron and tugged his pants down to his ankles. “Looks like Daddy’s packing.”

“Hey, is daddy bigger than you, Aaron?” Carson joked, and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized he’d pulled out of my mouth!

“Fuck all you cunts.”

“No,” Braeden said, his eyes glued to the bulge in Ron’s briefs. “But I say we fuck Daddy here.”

Aaron reached down and cupped Ron’s impressive bulge. “Shit, his sac’s bigger than the udders on some of our cows! I bet I could milk a couple of gallons outta these balls, don’t you think, Bray?”

“Oh, at least. Maybe even three,” Braeden agreed as he finished stripping Ron’s jeans off.

Aaron reached into Ron’s briefs and pulled his dick out. It was fully erect, and the tip was wet. “I think it’s time to milk the bull.”

Braeden took one of Ron’s jutting nipples between this thumb and forefinger. “You ever seen tits on a bull, Aaron?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Aaron replied as Ron moaned. “Which means…” Keeping one hand firmly massaging Ron’s bulge, his other hand joined Braeden’s and they began to paw and maul Ron’s nipples.

“Oh fuck,” Ron hissed, throwing his head back on Aaron’s shoulder. I could tell Aaron was supporting nearly all of Ron’s weight now, that he was too weak to support himself on his own. Aaron obviously realized this as well, because he pressed a knee into the back of Ron’s leg and eased my future father-in-law to his knees.

Ron shook their hands off and pitched onto all fours. He began to crawl toward the couch, dick still out, hard and bobbing, butt swaying side to side. He pulled himself up onto the couch but before he could get settled, Aaron was there, turning him so he was on his knees with his upper body leaning over the back of the couch.

He took hold of the waistband of Ron’s briefs and pulled them down to his knees. Then, with one hand on the small of Ron’s back holding him in place, he reached between Ron’s legs and pulled his cock down and back, fisting it in a corkscrew manner, while mimicking the motions of milking a cow. Ron squealed and squirmed and then began to moan.

“Oh fuck… oh fuck… ohhhh.”

“Yeah, you’re loving this, aren’t you, Daddy,” Braeden said as he slid a finger into Ron’s mouth. And as if on autopilot, Ron began to suck it.

“Mmmpph, mnnnn…”

“Fuck, but that’s hot,” Aaron said. With his hand still on Ron’s dick, he pushed his own briefs down and stepped out of them. Then he leaned over Ron, wrapped his free arm around his hairy chest, and pressed his thick shaft between Ron’s butt cheeks.

“Unghh…” Ron moaned around the finger in his mouth. “Mmmmnnghh…”

“What’s that, Daddy?” Aaron teased. “‘Please fuck me?’”

“Uhhh… uhhh…”

“Do you want this boy to fuck you?”

“Noooo…”

“Are you sure,” Aaron asked again. He released Ron’s cock and took hold of his own, running it slowly up and down Ron’s crease.

“Ohhhh…. Fuuuuucccckkk…”

“Is that a yes, Daddy?”

“Yesssss…” Ron eventually slurred.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you, Daddy.”

“Fuck me!” Ron bellowed, pushing his ass back.

Aaron rolled on a condom and took a few moments to slather lube onto his erection from the tube Ron had set out on the coffee table earlier.

I didn’t have a good view from my vantage point, but I knew the instant Aaron breached him because Ron threw his head back in a silent roar, his eyelids fluttering, eyes rolled up.

 

I must’ve passed out, because when I next opened my eyes, I was lying on the bed by myself. There was a noise to my left, and I turned my head. I gasped. Ron was bent over the sofa, ass up, briefs tangled around his right ankle, Carson fucking his ass while Aaron’s cock pummeled his mouth. Ron looked like he was into it.

There was a knock on the door, and I thought it might be Danielle, but a look at the clock on the nightstand showed it was after 11:00 p.m.

Aaron pulled out of Ron’s mouth and went to open the door, stepping into his underwear as he did. Steve, our waiter from dinner, entered, carrying a 12-pack of Coors.  

“Sorry I’m late,” he said and stopped when he saw Ron. His eyes went wide. “Whoa, the old man?”

Aaron grinned as he got back into position. “It took a little coaxing, but he’s a team player now, ain’t that right, Daddy?”

“Daddy?” Steve laughed as Ron grunted and Aaron shoved him back down on his cock. “Okay, yeah, I can see that.”

Ron slurped and sucked as Aaron resumed his thrusting. “Oh yeah, there you go,” Aaron encouraged.

“Truck Boy’s passed out over there,” Braeden said, coming out of the bathroom, pointing to where I was lying on the bed. He grabbed a beer and then handed one to both Carson and Aaron. He held up a small brown bottle. “I found this in the bathroom,” he said. “Is it what I think it is.”

“Yup. Those are poppers,” Carson said. “Why don’t you come give Daddy a hit?”

Aaron pulled out of Ron’s mouth as Braeden opened the poppers and held them under Ron’s nose. Aaron cupped Ron’s chin and pinched the opposite nostril shut. “Breathe deep, Daddy.”

Ron did as instructed. “Oh shit…” he moaned when the fumes hit him. Braeden switched nostrils and he snorted again.

Ron continued to moan, and I couldn’t believe what a turn on it was to see him dominated like this: fucked and used by four guys half his age, his body betraying him as he begged for more. They gave him more poppers and then Steve and Aaron fucked his mouth at the same time, their hard cocks jockeying for position. I watched in fascination as Ron’s lips stretched and wrapped around their thrusting lengths, his mouth becoming a big ‘O.’

“Oh fuck,” I groaned as I propped myself up on my elbow, pulled my dick from my briefs, and began to stroke.

“Well, look who decided to rejoin us,” Aaron said. He elbowed Steve and nodded in my direction. “He’s got a great mouth.”

Steve pulled out of Ron’s mouth and got onto the bed next to me. He held up the poppers and my breath hitched. “Is this what you want?” he asked, uncapping the bottle and waving it back and forth. I didn’t even have a chance to nod before he shoved them under my nose.

“Nggghh,” I moaned as I inhaled deeply.

He switched the bottle from nostril to nostril and I continued to snort until my head was spinning so fast I couldn’t hold it up any longer. I slumped back against the mattress and my eyes slid shut.

I felt the bed shift and when I opened my eyes, Steve was straddling me. He was naked now, holding his hard dick. He put it to my mouth, and I opened for him, taking him in as far as I could.

“Oh fuck, you were right, man,” he groaned as he began to thrust. “His mouth!”

“Mmm,” I moaned around the thick shaft in my mouth and resumed stroking my own aching eight inches.

After a few minutes of sucking, Steve pulled me to my feet and, holding my dick, led me over to the couch next to Ron. I watched as he ripped open a foil packet, sheath himself, and drizzle lube onto his fingers. As Braeden started fucking my mouth, Steve got behind me, parted my butt cheeks, and began fingering my hole, prepping me.

The last thing I remember before passing out again was watching myself in the mirror being spit roasted.

# # #

 I woke up the next morning to a pounding head, loaded Calvins, and Ron – naked and half-hard – just inches away.

As gently as I could, in order not to wake him, I sat up and surveyed the room. It looked like the aftermath of a tornado! The coffee table was cluttered with crushed beer cans and mini bottles of alcohol, there were empty bags of chips and candy wrappers strewn across the floor, and a teal bow tie was on the floor next to Ron’s briefs.

A teal bow tie…

And then the events of the night before came rushing back.

Dinner at the restaurant; the lobby bar with Ron; the jilted prom boys… Then coming back to our room where Ron and I had been fucked and—wait… Ron got fucked?

Yes. Crystal clear memories of Ron down on all fours getting fucked in both his mouth and ass flashed before my eyes. How he’d gone from hosting the party to becoming a party favor was beyond me, but I distinctly remember the guys – Aaron, Braeden, Carson, and even Steve, our waiter from dinner – taking turns fucking him.

I remembered being fucked as well, sucking them off and taking load after load, as cock after cock entered me. I could still feel the burn of the stretch and the sense of fullness.

There were gaps in my memory and either I’d lost track of time or I’d passed out a few times, but I had a recollection of Ron and I lying side by side on the king-sized bed, both of us on our backs with our legs up and spread, getting fucked.

Somehow though, it felt as if it’d been more about Ron than me. Like he was being punished for something, getting his comeuppance, and I was just along for the ride.

I recalled how he’d kept calling the guys ‘boys,’ never seeing the looks passing between them… and I knew exactly what had happened.

“Oh shit,” I muttered as I threw back the blankets. I didn’t want to be here when he came to and remembered what happened to him. I rolled out of bed, noting my soiled briefs were still damp, grabbed my travel duffel, and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as I could.

I stared at myself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself. I was a fucked-out mess. My hair was disheveled, there were dark circles ringing my eyes, and there was what looked – and tasted – like dried cum crusting my cheeks and chin.

I peeled my sticky briefs off, turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot spray. I braced my hands on the tiled wall and let the water cascade over me, steam billowing as it rinsed away the cobwebs in my head along with the evidence of last night’s debauchery.

I don’t know how long I stood there – too long, obviously – when I heard the bathroom door open and then the slide of the shower door.

“Wow, last night was wild,” Ron said as he stepped into the shower, jarring me out of my hazy thoughts. “I think those boys roofied us or something because I don’t remember much.”

The heft of his erection smacked against my butt, and I didn’t resist when he pushed me flat against the tiled wall. I felt the snub head of his cock poke against my hole, and I whimpered. Why did I want this so badly?

Instead of fucking me though, he fastened his hands on my shoulders and turned me so I was facing him. He pushed me to my knees and put his index finger under my chin. When he tilted my head up, his fat, hard dick came into my line of sight, and I opened for it.

“I haven’t been fucked like that in twenty years,” he sighed. He sounded more wistful than angry, and when I glanced up, his eyes were on the middle distance.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he continued, lathering up as he casually fucked my mouth. “Mutually assured destruction: ‘I could tell Joyce, but I’m not going to tell Joyce.’”

I didn’t respond and couldn’t even if I wanted to, too busy licking up and down the length of his vein-etched shaft and swirling my tongue around the fat, spongy head.

 His pace quickened. “First, it’s your word against mine. Second, you have no proof. Not like all those videos I have of you – date-stamped the night before you fucking proposed to my daughter, no less – begging for cock and taking all comers. So, are we agreed that we’ll never speak about last night?”

I nodded, still sucking, as he rinsed off, soap and shampoo running over me. The only indication I had that he was going to ejaculate was a slight shudder in his thrusting, and then he was cumming. And like the cocksucker I was, I swallowed every drop.

“And third,” he said, ruffling my wet hair as he pulled out of my mouth, “I don’t think you want to ruin a good thing.”

He stepped out of the shower.

I was in a daze, my heart pounding and my head spinning. I rested my forehead against the cool tile and didn’t even realize I was stroking my dick until I felt my orgasm overtake me. “Oh fuck!” I cried as I shot against the tile.

As I watched semen and suds swirl down the drain, I lifted my hand to my lips and felt how puffy there were. The shower door opened again, and I looked up to see Ron, fully dressed, staring down at me. “Get dressed. Your fiancée is waiting for you.”

 

In my rush to dress and pack, I didn’t realize that my underwear from last night had disappeared.

 

I was a few minutes late for breakfast, mumbling my apologies as I slid into the booth next to Danielle. They’d ordered the buffet and had already been through the line.

“Rough night?” Ron asked, one eyebrow arched.

I shot him a quizzical look and his mouth quirked. He speared a sausage link and took a bite, and damn if my dick didn’t take notice and come to life.

“You’re not hungover, are you?” Danielle whispered.

“What?!” I glanced at Ron again and he gave me a smile like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. I took Danielle’s hand, “No, babe. We were up late, and I overslept. That’s all. Honest.”

“I’m just kidding,” she said. “You’re right, Daddy, he’s so easy!”

I glared at Ron. “You two are not funny,” I groused as they chuckled.

A waiter appeared – thankfully not Steve – and handed me a plate. “Would you like coffee?” he asked. I said that I did, took my plate, and got into the buffet line.

 Thankfully the conversation centered around the drive home and the stops Joyce had planned.

The waiter came with our bill and Ron took it. “I’m a little tired this morning,” he said to me as he handed the server his credit card, “would you kids mind driving today?”

I was surprised that my initial reaction was disappointment, but I quickly schooled my features. “Yeah, of course.”

Danielle and I bought some postcards and a few bottles of water from the gift shop. When we exited the hotel, the Jeep was out front, and Ron and Joyce were already in the back seat.

I drove the first leg while Danielle updated me on all the wedding plans she and her mom had discussed. I tried to keep up, but scenes from last night began to play in my head, distracting me.

Whenever I caught Ron’s eye in the rearview mirror, he winked and smiled, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. And every time his mouth curved up, my dick would throb and squirt a little cum into my briefs.

By the time we stopped for a bathroom break in Tucumcari, I had to change my underwear.

           

It was the middle of the afternoon when I dropped Danielle, Ron, and Joyce off at their house. After unloading all of Danielle’s things and carrying everything inside, I got back behind the wheel.

I couldn’t get home fast enough.

Thankfully, neither of my parents were home when I got to my house. I needed a shower and a spiritual scrub down, but first… I tossed my bags in the corner of my room, shoved my shorts and briefs down, and jumped on my bed. I licked my palm, wrapped it around my throbbing erection, and jacked myself for all it was worth. God what I wouldn’t do for some poppers right now!

As I stroked, I remembered how Ron had edged me in the back seat that day – was it only two days ago? – how he took me right to the point of climax over and over, and how I had to fight to keep from squirming and crying out.

I recalled the fear I felt of being discovered, but even more, the exhilaration of being taken and used.

My balls were tingling and my dick was throbbing and it was a conscious effort to ease back on my masturbation. Part of me wanted to cum so badly, but another part wanted to make it last for as long as I could stand it.

After less than three minutes, though, my need for release won out. But this time, I did something I’d never done before: I licked my middle finger, reached between my legs, and sunk it deep into my hole.

“Fuuuu-uuuuckkkkk!!!!!” I screamed as my heels dug into the mattress, my back arched, and my butt lifted off the bed. My load was thick and huge, and rocketed out in hot, creamy spurts, that shot up my sweat-sheened abs and chest and sprayed my neck and chin.

I struggled to catch my breath as my orgasm subsided, and as I lay panting, chest heaving, I tried once again to figure out what happened. How had I gone from conqueror to conquered? I really thought I’d beat the Devil and the temptations he’d thrown in my path, but I was wrong.

As I idly traced circles through the puddle of cooling semen on my belly, I realized it wasn’t out of my system.

Not even close.