Red Neck Boys and Porn

Holland hammered the last strand of barbwire to the new post and stepped back. He wiped his brow with his arm, trying to keep the sweat out of his eyes. He looked along the fence, seeing the wire pulled taunt, all lines now neat and straight. He had been working on the fence for two days, replacing rotted posts and pulling new wire where Fred, the big bull, had torn through it during the storm. With aching muscles and feet that burned from being on them all day, he smiled at the sight of his finished work. He picked up the rotted post and carried it to his truck, tossing it in the bed. He went back and picked up his tools and the box of staples, carrying them to his truck and putting everything in the toolbox at span the bed behind the cab.

He climbed into his truck, a 03 F-250 bought from a residential contractor over in Wilcox County. It was the right price for him due to its high mileage. The white paint was beginning to fade, and the passenger side had a dent in the door and back fender, but it ran well, and was heavy enough for the work demanded of it on the farm. He was twenty, would be twenty-one in three months, and worked on the family farm, he the seventh generation to do so. They had over two hundred head of cattle and crop farmed over twelve hundred acres. It kept them busy, he, his daddy and granddad, all three generations working together on it.

Easing across the pasture, heading to the barn, he looked at the cows grazing across it. Considering how he was the one who stayed, he smiled at how crazy it seemed, because he always assumed it would be Casey, his older brother, who would be the one, leaving him to pursue some other career. But when he was fifteen, and Casey announced he was going to college to be an engineer, his possibilities changed.

Parked in his usual place next to the carport where his mom’s SUV and dad’s truck sat, he stood at the back of his truck watching his daddy approach on the lawnmower. With the mower cut off and engine idled down, he stepped close.

“I got the fence fixed.”

“Good,” Travis, his daddy replied. “Tell your mom I’ll be in soon.”

“Okay, but I’m having dinner with the guys.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Well, you boys don’t overdo it.”

“Don’t worry,” Holland replied. His dad knew they drank too much when they got together, at times a bit rowdy too. But tonight, they were grilling burgers at Larry’s place and just hanging out, so there was nothing to worry about, or anything that would need explaining later on. “I’ll tell mom you’re almost finished,” he added, then turned to head inside. He heard the mower kick on, then the engine rev back up as he stepped into the carport heading to the back door. It led to the mudroom where he and his dad could remove dirty or muddy shoes before going into the house.

“Dad will be finished shortly. I’m going to get cleaned up and head out,” said Holland as he crossed the kitchen, heading to his bedroom.

“Okay. You boys take it easy tonight.”

“We will,” Holland called out from the dining room as he headed to the hall.

Showered, drying his hair with the towel, Holland looked in the mirror. He smiled as he flexed his right bicep, the muscle bulging thick and round. Although he wished he were taller (he was five foot eight), at least as tall as Bobby, but he knew who had the best body of the three of them. He played football and baseball in high school, worked out regularly, even having weights in the barn, and now that he was almost twenty-one , he could really see himself as a man, no longer that teenager struggling to put on muscle.

He looked at his reflection, pushed his black hair from his face and stared into the green eyes reflected back. He needed a hair cut and saw the scar on his shoulder from having a collar bone reset when he was fourteen. He ran a hand down his smooth chest, feeling the firmness of it, and it pleased him. He felt his sex, the masculine nature of it, and he wondered about Rebecca Hanks, then Emily Williams, trying to decide which he should ask out on a date. He had dated Donna Brown in high school, but she left for college, and thus left him. He had been stung by how easy it had been for her. Since then, he had dated off and on, but none seriously, but he was nearing twenty-one, and he felt a need to get serious and settle down. Rebecca was tall and beautiful, but she was so introverted and far too religious for his taste. Emily was not as attractive, but she was more outgoing, and like him, could not be bothered with church.

He knew which he would ask out, knowing his mother would disapprove, being the one pushing Rebecca as who he should date.

Back in his room, he slipped on an old pair of jeans, worn and faded, the hems frayed and both knees blown out, then pulled on a plaid shirt that had the sleeves ripped off, leaving his arms exposed. Then with cap pulled low, he grabbed up his keys and headed out.

The last garage bay door lowered, Larry locked it and headed to the breakroom behind the office. The time clock resided on the wall next to the refrigerator and the lockers, where he kept his personal effects. It was a few minutes after six, and another day at Jake’s Auto Repair was at an end. Jake was still behind the counter, going over the day’s receipts and the workload for the next week, and Bill was on the phone ordering parts that they would need. Feeling grimy and sweaty, Larry unzipped his overalls to the waist, exposing the skintight white tank top beneath. One that revealed his lean build. He clocked out, pulled out his lunchbox, wallet, and keys and headed for the door.

“I’m out of here,” said Larry as he crossed the lobby.

“See you next week,” Jake replied, not looking up.

Larry went around to the side of the building, passing Jake’s Wrangler (a jacked up 4-door fully accessorized Jeep that would probably never see a difficult trail) and Bill’s Dodge truck, he came to his Corvette. To tell someone he drove one, being only nineteen and still going to Tech for a degree in auto mechanics, would illicit looks of doubt, like he was pulling their leg. What he did not admit up front was it was an 89 model with too many miles and dug into his bank account far too often for repairs. The leather seats were cracked and split open on the driver’s side, the red painted starting to look faded, but it ran well, and made him happy to drive it.

He cut through town, coming out in the Hillcrest area, where the shopping center sat on Highway 362, with its grocery, drug, and liquor store. ‘One stop shopping’ the guys liked to call it. He went into the liquor store first. Despite the plan on just having beer, he went in for something a bit more potent. Then he ran into the drug store for a birthday card for his mom, knowing to be late this year, after he had been last year, would be something she’d never let him live down. Finally, he strolled into the grocery, grabbed a shopping cart, and started his loop around the store. Lettuce, tomato, and onion from the produce section, ketchup from the condiment’s aisle and across the back for hamburger meat. He picked up a bag of chips and went down the beer aisle for a case. He headed toward the front, knowing Bobby and Holland were to make a stop and get the other items they would need.

He went to Mary Ann’s lane, even though the lane two over had a shorter line. He had been flirting with her since eleventh grade to no avail, but he held out hope. Susan, his first cousin, told him Mary Ann had broken if off with Christopher after catching him fucking that Nichols girl over in Madison, and that was a month ago. Maybe today would be his lucky day.

Larry waited for an elderly man to check out, then a woman with two young children. In the few minutes he waited behind them, he wondered about having children of his own, unable to fathom having to deal with such a ruckus all the time. The woman pulled her card from the slot, took her receipt and he felt himself exhale, as if he had been holding his breath. He set his items on the conveyor belt and moved to the credit card machine.

“Hey, Mary Ann, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Larry; did you find everything you need?” Mary Ann replied in a flat tone, one Larry was all too familiar.

“There’s just one more thing.”

She looked up with an exasperated expression; “What?”

“Your number? Will you go…”

“No, Larry. I’m not going out with you. That’ll be thirty-eight dollars and twenty-six cents.”

Rejected once again, he knew he should give up on getting her to go out with him, but he felt an odd desperation about it. Like she was the last one, or her rejection would make him consider other options, some of which he feared to contemplate. Card slid into the reader, he hit ‘okay’ then entered his PIN. The screen cleared, then told him to remove his card.

“Thanks, Mary Ann,” said Larry, for nothing, he added to himself as he picked up his bags and headed for the exit.

He glanced at his watch and saw he had twenty minutes to get home, shower, and change into clean clothes before the guys were to arrive. He rushed to his car, barked the wheels when he pulled out onto the street and rushed home.

Bobby had clocked out around three, after an early shift at the elevator. He had duty at the elevator this week, instead of in the warehouse where they stored seed and supplies for sale. Clocked in at six that morning, there had already been three grain trucks in line ready to unload. He worked tirelessly till eleven, when he took a break for lunch. It made for a short afternoon and let him get home early enough to get cleaned up and take a nap.

It was a short drive to Clay Hill Village, the trailer park down near Crystal Creek. It was owned by Mr. Green, a man who was always old to Bobby, but still active in the upkeep of the park, making sure no one left garbage out for the raccoons or grading the gravel drive with his old Massey Ferguson tractor. The sound of it circling the park a few days after every hard rain was comforting to hear. He had rented one of the trailers right after turning eighteen back in February, packing up and leaving a home that had not even questioned him as he walked out with a duffel bag and two black trash bags stuffed with his belongings. It had been tough growing up, and not because they were poor, but because of the other shit he had to put up with at home. Larry and he talked about it whenever Holland wasn’t around, how they had similar backgrounds when it came to the poverty they both had to endure as kids, but it was the differences that really made Bobby cling to Larry and Holland, knowing he could have a better life, once he was away from his parents and his father’s family. Deacon, his father, sold drugs in the surrounding towns and communities and Bobby knew, sooner or later, the sheriff would catch him. He hoped it was sooner, for his mother’s sake. Then there was Uncle Mark, who made moonshine somewhere along Hollis Creek in the next county, another person destined for prison. His grandfather had served time, twice, and he had every intention of breaking the family tradition of lawlessness. Jake hired him when he was fifteen, despite being the son of Deacon Miller. He had worked hard, never being late, to prove himself, and he had never been happier when Jake hired him full time after graduation, then helped him with taking classes at Tech.

Bobby had made a run to the grocery store before heading home. He bought his favorite chips, a type Larry hated, therefore would not buy, plus a tub of potato salad from the Deli. Browsing around the Bakery displays, he searched for something sweet. There was cake, cookies and pies and the blueberry and apple pies caught his eye. He knew one was enough, but he picked up one of each of the blueberry and apple pies and headed to the registers. Crossing the parking lot, he noticed the disparity of the vehicles. Shiny new trucks and cars mixed in with those old and worn, with paint fading. It spoke to the way things were in the community. A few doing well, but a lot barely getting by. Walking out, he passed Hank’s old Bronco, Jim Wilson’s Dodge truck, and Cheryl Ann’s piece of shit Celebrity, to his own derelict: a 1996 Chevrolet Blazer. There had to be a time the SUV had been a nice vehicle, but that was two owners and years before he got it.

Bobby eased down the gravel drive to his mobile home that sat at the back on Kennedy Lane. It was named after the president who had been assassinated. It was all Bobby knew of him, but Mr. Green could talk your ear off telling stories about this president, whom he considered one of the best. He parked next to the small wooden stoop at the front door and climbed out. With the bags in one hand, he unlocked the door and went into his home.

After rushing around in the kitchen, Bobby stood in the small bathroom, filthy clothes piled on the floor in the corner, and looked at his reflection, smiling at how absurd he looked. Everywhere his clothes covered his body, it looked clean compared to the exposed parts. The long arms, the neck and down the chest where he left three buttons of his shirt undone, and of course his face was covered in filth. He had worn goggles to protect his eyes and now sported a clean figure eight across his face. The chaff from the wheat got everywhere, covered every surface, and none more than the guys working the pit, where the grain was dumped to be shifted into a silo.

Then his eyes went from the filth on his skin to his body. He looked at himself all the time, disappointed in how his genes conspired against him, leaving him skinny. His collarbone stuck out, and his chest and stomach were flat. He wished for a body like Holland, curved and bulging with muscle. He pushed his brown hair back and stared into his own blue eyes. They were his best feature, the thing commented on nearly as often as his height. With his build, he wished he were shorter, not six foot three, which just made him look skinnier. His eyes he wanted to highlight, often wearing blue shirts to make them stand out.

He got the shower going, climbed into the tub and bent his head under the spray, feeling instant relief as he watched the dirt and chaff circle the drain and disappear. He scrubbed his skin with the washcloth twice, feeling it tingle as he rinsed off the soap. Finally, clean, he climbed out of the shower, dried off and went to his bedroom, collapsing on the unmade bed, quickly drifting off to sleep.

Larry had everything laid out and beer iced down. He went to the bedroom, tugged off his clothes and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. He had just stepped out when he heard the knocking. Then the knock became a fist banging on the door.

“Stop playing with yourself and open up,” Bobby called out.

“Asshole,” Larry muttered as he wrapped the towel around his waist and went to the door.

“Can’t you give me time to get to the door?” said Larry as he swung it open.

“Oh,” Bobby replied upon seeing him in just a towel, “was you jerking off?” he asked in all sincerity.

“NO! I just got out of the shower. Now get in so I can close the door.”

Bobby moved past Larry, carrying two bags. He went into the small kitchen and set them down. He opened the refrigerator to put the salad and beer in it. On the shelves, scattered randomly around the inside, there were takeout boxes, a couple of sodas and a bag with the meat in it. Condiments were in the door, and in a drawer, he saw sandwich meat and pre-sliced cheese.

“Damn, you have the worst diet of anyone I know. Do you ever eat a cooked meal?” asked Bobby as he closed the door and looked up to see Larry turn and head to the bedroom.

“When Holland gets here, we’ll get everything ready.”

“You sure the grill works?” asked Bobby, referring to the gas grill the owner of the small apartment complex put in two years prior. On two previous occasions it had failed to work.

“I checked it last night,” came Larry’s voice from the bedroom.

Bobby moved to the door and was surprised to see Larry standing naked, about to put on boxers. He had not seen him, or Holland, naked. He assumed with the door open Larry would have quickly dressed or not left it open. He saw the tall, skinny body, the dime size nipples, the thick underarm hair, and the small fan of pubic hair, otherwise Larry was smooth, even his legs looking nearly bare. And Bobby looked at the flaccid cock, wondering how big it got when erect, comparing it to his own.

“Give me a minute,” Larry uttered, his tone sounding exasperated, as he turned his back to Bobby and slipped the boxers up his long legs. Then he put on jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Do you own any normal shirts?” Bobby asked, his tone mischievous, knowing he was about to get under Larry’s skin.

“No. I’m poor, remember.”

“I am too, but I have a few shirts with, like buttons.”

A knock on the door and Bobby turned in time to see it swing open and Holland come in carrying two bags of ice and a case of beer.

“You finally made it,” said Bobby.

“I had to stop on the way and fuck your mother,” Holland responded, the banter now in full swing with his arrival.

Larry didn’t know why he felt so shy around Bobby and Holland, especially Bobby. He was two years older than Bobby and only a year behind Holland in school, but he had matured slower than them. The last to have his voice change, to get hair over his dick (he assumed) and under his arms (painfully obvious during summers), the last to get a driver’s license and probably last in other things he didn’t want to consider. But they had been friends since fourth grade, when he had busted Mitch Ellison’s lips after Mitch had came up behind Holland and Bobby trying to skateboard at the park and pushed them down. Bobby was only a little kid, a third grader, and Holland had been caught off guard. Larry didn’t know why he did it, but seeing the bully laughing at the two boys on the ground. Well, it was too much, and despite being younger than Mitch, just a skinny fourth grader, he ran up to him and threw a punch. He had caught him off guard, putting him on his ass.

There was a couple of days suspicion, but he had two new friends. Friends he would have all through grade school.

Holland and Bobby took charge in the kitchen, slicing the tomato and onion, and icing down the rest of the beer in an old Styrofoam cooler that was missing its top. Larry took the burgers they had salted and made into patties and headed down to the grill.

“Go make sure he doesn’t overcook the shit out of them this time,” said Holland, chuckling at the memory of burned burgers two months ago.

“Okay. Oh, Holland, there is a bottle of bourbon in that bag,” said Bobby, pointing at a brown paper bag on the countertop.

“Sweet.”

Sitting around the living area, dirty plates and empty beer bottles on the coffee table, the guys were half-heartedly watching a baseball game while bantering back and forth. It was getting late, nearly eleven o’clock, and Holland began to look at his watch, fretting at how early he needed to be up the next morning. Even though it was a Friday night, there were cows to inoculate and the vet agreed to come out at seven thirty.

“I saw Jordan a couple of days ago,” said Larry

“Yeah, what’s that pervert up to,” replied Holland.

“He’s working at the papermill.”

“How in the hell did he get on out there? They’ve been laying off constantly the last few years,” asked Bobby.

“Connections; his dad and two uncles are managers at the mill,” said Holland.

“He still dating that girl from Harris Springs?” asked Bobby.

“Hell no; she dumped his ass when she found out he was fucking Cindy and some girl in Butler,” said Larry.

“He never could keep it in his pants,” Holland replied, climbing to his feet. “Anyone need another beer?” he asked against his better judgment.

“Yes,” Larry replied, then turned up the one in hand and emptied it.

“I’m still good,” Bobby replied, holding up his half full bottle.

Larry chuckled to himself, then started talking while watching a batter strike out. “The pervert came in to get that piece of shit Firebird fixed and…”

“He still has that damn thing?” asked Holland.

“Yep, and it looks worse. The paint is shot, and I think the rear end could fall out of it with all the rust in the body. But what I was going to tell ya, he brought up porn.”

“Of course, he did,” said Holland, making Bobby laugh.

“What twisted shit is he watching now?” Bobby asked, remembering the last time he saw Jordan and how he talked of watching girls taking it up the ass, and was trying to get some girl to let him do it.

“That’s just it, he bragged about horsing around on a porn site searching nonsensical words bringing up some weird shit.”

“What kind of words?” asked Bobby.

“Salad, backdoor…and, hell I don’t remember, but he said it was hilarious some of the things that came up,” Larry replied taking the beer Holland was holding out.

“I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t stormed his apartment,” said Holland dropping back into the chair.

“If I did that, I’d probably get stuff I don’t want to see,” said Bobby, leaning back, thinking of his last searches online. The line he was crossing more and more. He looked at Holland, then Larry, wondering if they ever considered it.

“Just don’t type in ‘zoo’,” said Holland.

“Why?” asked Larry.

“My cousin from Atlanta was telling some of us last Christmas about seeing this documentary call zoo something or another and it was about a guy having sex with a horse.”

“No shit; damn,” Larry replied.

“That’s impossible…isn’t it?” Bobby asked

“Evidently not, but damn if I want to find out,” said Holland.

“Well, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell Jordan,” said Larry and the three of them howled with laughter.

“…the ball sails over the third baseman’s head and McGovern is going to score…” from the television and it captures the guys’ attention, watching the player who was on second base score easily and the hitter round the bases to third.

For a few minutes, the guys watched the game, for it was in the bottom of the ninth and Holland’s favorite team was losing to Larry’s. They sat on the edge of their seats when a player got a hit, the ball flying high out into mid-field. The opposing player raised his glove and neatly caught it, bringing the game to an end.

“Fuck, why in the hell did he hit it like that?” Holland complained, as he sat back and drank heavily from his bottle.

Larry was laughing but knew better than to rub it in too much. He turned to Bobby, grinning mischievously.

“Hey, Bobby, what words would you try?”

“What?” Bobby replied.

“What words would you try; you know, if you were horsing around on that porn site you jack off to all the time?”

“Fuck you.”

“I doubt that would bring up anything interesting,” Holland jokingly replied.

“What about you?” Bobby asked, looking at Holland.

“Oh, I don’t know. Breaking plow?” Holland replied, grinning.

“How about just plow?” Larry cut in.

“Damn, I can imagine what would come up with that,” Bobby uttered, shaking his head.

“It make your dick hard to imagine it?” Larry asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“Only your mouth can do that,” Bobby shot back, and Larry grew wide-eyed, then laughed.

“Get your computer out,” said Holland. “Let’s see what we bring up.”

Holland and Larry sat on the sofa with Bobby on the floor at the end of the coffee table. Larry’s old laptop sat was always on the table, and Larry opened it, causing it to start up. It was slow loading each of their words but when the screen finally came up, they would laugh and gasp, pretending to be shocked, then laugh, urging someone else to come up with a word.

Two women shared a double-headed dildo, a woman was on her hands and knees taking a huge cock up the ass, and a woman sat in a tub letting three guys piss on her. Each scene elicited a response, encouraging them to get more daring. The next word made them fall silent.

A woman had a strap on with a huge dildo attached and she was pushing it into a guy’s ass. The guys watched in shock as the thick dildo sank deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, he took every inch,” Bobby uttered as he looked over at Holland and Larry, then back at the screen.

“No fucking way…Jesus,” Larry exclaimed when the woman began a brutal fuck.

“Hey Bobby, can you take it like that?” Holland asked, stifling a laugh.

“Fuck you,” Bobby replied.

“Not if you’re hung like that,” Holland replied, and Larry pushed him over on the sofa.

“Pervert; you’re getting as bad as Jordan.”

“Okay, I’ve seen enough of this, try another word,” said Bobby.

Holland sat up and began to type. He hit enter and they watched the computer load up images.

“Oh fuck, what did you type?” Bobby asked, as the image of two guys came up, sharing a dildo. They worked their bodies closer together, letting the dildo sink into each of their asses.

“Shit, that’s not what I wanted,” Holland replied as he typed in something else.

A guy is fucking a woman, ass flexing with every thrust. At her head, another guy is pumping thick cock into her mouth.

“That’s more like it,” said Holland as he sat back and adjusted his crotch, his cock painfully seeking room to stretch out. The guys used the woman, pumping cock into her at both ends. Larry shifted on the sofa and Bobby tugged at his own crotch as he focused on the cock in the woman’s mouth. It was the most visible, the one you could watch slid inward and back out. When the guy pulled out, the cock shiny wet, the woman took it and dragged her tongue up the shaft to the flared head then licked it like a lollipop.

Bobby imaged doing it, what the woman was doing, sucking that cock, then licking it, letting the viewer see her tongue drag slowly along its length. On the sofa, Holland wondered what it would feel like to have someone so eagerly suck his cock. No girl had been so willing, always acting as if it were nasty. He wanted to feel what the guy was feeling. This near worship of his cock.

Larry glanced at Bobby, then at Holland as he tried to suppress certain thoughts. Ones that put him in the place of the woman. But he could not do it. He considered it. Wondered what it would be like to take a cock up the ass or suck it so willingly.

“Oh no, no, no,” Holland cried out, pushing back and partially covering his eyes.

The guy at the woman’s mouth moved around behind the other guy. All too soon, he had his cock sinking into the guy’s ass. Then the guy in the middle began to move with greater authority, pushing his ass back onto the cock, then shoving forward, sinking his own into the woman all the way.

“Jesus Christ,” Larry exclaimed, pretending to be shocked, but he felt his arousal grow with every thrust into the guy’s ass.

“Change it, put in another word,” Bobby urged, suddenly feeling how aroused it was making him, his long cock snaking down one thigh.

“Let me,” said Larry, turning the laptop toward him so he could type, which prevented Holland and Bobby from seeing the word.

As the computer loaded up images, Larry swung it back around so all three of them could watch. It took longer than before, but eventually the image popped up on the screen. At first it seemed innocent enough but as the camera panned back it was obvious what they were seeing. It was an Asian guy, with long black hair and a body smooth and lean. He was on his back, hands cuffed and chained to something above his head. Secured around each leg below the knee was black leather cuffs that were connected by a wide strap that circled the guy’s neck, pulling his legs up and out. He was spread out on his back, flaccid cock lying on his abdomen. The camera panned down to his hairless ass and the tight wrinkled opening to his hole. A hand comes into the screen, fingers shiny with a thick gel on them.

“Oh fuck, no,” Holland exclaimed, as the fingers smeared the gel on the guy’s ass, then slowly penetrated it. First one finger, then two, stretching the hole open. They watched as those fingers pumped as deeply as they could, twisting and turning as they did so.

“Shit,” Larry uttered.

Then the guys fell silent, only the moans of the guy in the video broke the silence. The fingers pulled out, and the other guy scooted up into view, stroking his own cock. He moved up close and rubbed his cock over the slick loosened hole, the penetrated it. There were moans from both guys as cock sank all the way inside the prone guy, then it piston within his hole when the other began to fuck.

“Turn it off,” Holland uttered, sitting back, uncomfortable by how aroused it had made him.

Larry closed the laptop and sat back. The guys glanced at each other, then looked away. They felt guilty about their cocks getting hard and giving thought to those things they had seen.

“You think it feels good?” Bobby asked, his voice low and timid.

“It must feel good to them if they do it willingly. I need another beer,” Holland replied, climbing up and stepping over Larry’s legs. “Anyone want another?”

“Yes,” Larry and Bobby replied in unison.

“Bring the bourbon,” Larry added.

It had been nearly an hour since the laptop was closed. Sixty plus minutes of hard drinking and questions that circled around sex between guys. Larry came dangerously close to admitting he thought of it. Bobby talked about how gay guys must enjoy it, giving voice to his own desires. Desires he was too scared to admit. Holland listened, wondering about the pleasure of it. Repeating ‘it’s just sex’ to himself as he listened to Bobby and Larry. He saw their looks and began to understand how they seemed to relate to the guys fucking in that video.

“Could either of you do it?” Holland asked, looking from Larry to Bobby.

“What? No,” Bobby protested and even to Larry it was a protest that was too much.

“Maybe,” Larry finally admitted.

“Does it scare you to think it?” asked Holland.

“Yes.”

“You’ve thought of it before?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you…what keeps you from pursuing it?”

“That I will lose my only two friends.”

A silence hung in the air as Holland considered the situation, realizing he didn’t care. He sighed heavily, then poured three more shots, passing one to Larry and Bobby.

“What if I said I didn’t care,” said Holland sitting the empty shot glass on the coffee table.

Larry shrugged his shoulders, afraid to say anything for how his voice may crack.

“What about you, Bobby?” asked Holland.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” Bobby replied.

Holland laughed, and Larry and Bobby looked at him surprised.

“I meant were you good with Larry thinking about it, not you. But we might as well clear the air, right?”

Bobby smiled, realizing how he confessed. “Yes.”

“What about you?” Larry asked, looking at Holland.

“Me? Up until tonight, no. Tonight has just made he think about what two guys can do, but…I don’t really feel a connection to it.”

“But you thought about it tonight. Did you feel a bit aroused by it?” asked Bobby.

“Yes,” Holland replied.

“Fuck,” Larry uttered, climbing to his feet. “I have to piss.”

With Larry gone to the bathroom, Holland looked at Bobby. Head down, fingers playing with the shoelaces of one shoe. He looked so young in this moment, like he did years before. So innocent appearing, but Holland knew there was a turmoil within.

“Bobby?”

“Yes.”

“What keeps you from trying to meet a guy and trying it?”

“I don’t know…” Bobby mumbled, then he looked up facing Holland. “I need to feel like I can trust them. To know they aren’t just using me and will…”

“Tell everyone?”

Bobby nodded his head.

“This isn’t a place to go all public, but it will keep secrets,” said Holland.

“Holland?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you do it? With me?”

It brought Holland up short, shocked him to hear Bobby ask such a thing.

“It’s just…I trust you and it won’t mean anything.”

The sound of the toilet flushing, then water running. and Holland looks at Bobby, wondering if he could really do such a thing.

“What about Larry?”

“I think he’s in the same place as me,” Bobby replied.

“I’m where?” Larry asked, coming back into the room. He saw the look from each, realizing the conversation had taken a turn in some manner. “What?”

“Could you have sex with one of us?” asked Bobby.

“Could I…” Larry stammered, then he looked at Holland, and saw it was a serious question. “I…guess so.”

“Holland?” asked Bobby, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Just this one time?” asked Holland.

“Just this one time,” Bobby replied.

“You guys are serious?”

“Larry?” asked Holland, looking him in the eye.

Larry looked at Holland, then Bobby, thinking of all the times he had considered sex with them. All the times the temptation was present. He was just shocked it involved both when the opportunity arrived.

“Okay, I’m game,” Larry replied.

Holland stood, held out a hand to help Bobby get to his feet, then they walked past Larry heading to his bedroom.

“Come on, Larry,” Bobby whispered as he passed.

Holland stood on the far side of the unmade bed, Bobby at the foot and Larry came to the other side. They looked at each other for a few seconds, then Holland took the initiative and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. The muscular chest came into view, then the flat stomach.

Bobby began to undo the buttons on his shirt as Larry pulled his t-shirt off, tossing it on the floor. He watched Bobby’s body come into view, the long lean torso he had seen often, but not like this. He looked at it with a close eye, noticing all the details of it. The size of the nipples, the scar on the stomach, the recess navel, the smooth skin with the moles, one on the collar bone, one at the base of the long neck and two just below the right nipple.

Larry glanced over to Holland and saw he was watching him. A faint smile that told him Holland understood. He undid his jeans and let them drop around his ankles, seeing Holland doing the same. He compared the blue boxers Holland wore to his own white ones. The blue fit snug, a fitted appearance, while he knew his white boxers fit loose, baggy in the ass. He wanted shed of them. Looking at Bobby he saw the same white boxers come into view as jeans slipped down the long legs. They were in near unison.

“Let’s get on the bed first,” Holland suggested as he climbed on Larry’s bed.

“Okay,” Bobby replied, moving up the bed to lay next to Holland.

Larry swallowed hard, then eased down next to Bobby, keeping him in the middle.

They lay still for what seemed like a very long time. Cutting eyes back and forth, they looked at each other, one wondering if he could do it and two realizing they could do those things they gave thought to in the past. Larry made the first move, with hand shaking nervously, he reached out and touched Bobby’s stomach, fingers just grazing the skin. Bobby shivered and began to breath heavily.

Larry raked his fingers up the flat stomach to the chest, until fingers circled the right nipple.

Bobby watched; eyes glued to the fingers touching him. The sense of touch was ticklish at first, then it was something else. It aroused him to feel the fingers, and how they barely touch his skin. Almost without thought, he reached over and touched Holland, on the stomach, then let his fingers graze the skin as he mirrored Larry’s touch. Moved his fingers up the muscular stomach to the curved hard pec until his fingers were circling the right nipple.

“Fuck,” Holland whispered, as he felt the fingers rub the harden center of his nipple. He felt the sensation in his cock, which stirred in his boxers.

Larry grew embolden, moving his hand down Bobby’s chest, over the undulating stomach until fingers were dragging through the loose fabric of the boxers. He worked his way down to the fly, gapped open revealing pubic hair and the base of the cock. He slipped fingers through it and touched the cock. Bobby moaned and it encouraged Larry to go further, to work his fingers along the growing shaft until he could feel the spongy head. He toyed with hit, making Bobby squirm and push upward.

Bobby continued to mirror Larry’s movement, running his hand down Holland’s chest, over the stomach until he too was working fingers through the fly of boxers. Holland’s boxers were tighter, snug to the body and Bobby struggled to get his fingers through the fly, digging into the fabric frantically, desperate to feel cock as he felt Larry’s fingers on his own. It increased Holland’s arousal the way Bobby was feeling around his crotch. The manipulation of his cock was too much, and he grew more aroused, his cock tenting the boxers as it stretched out to the side. Bobby finally got two fingers through the fly and Holland moaned as they touched his cock.

Only a couple of minutes and hard cocks were fished out of flies. Hollands thick cock and Bobby’s long lean cock were out in the open with fingers wrapped tightly around them stroking their full length. Even Larry’s cock had slipped through the loose opening of his boxers, already hard without being touched.

Cocks became rock hard. The heads flared out and began to leak, to drool down the sides only to be smeared along the shaft by stroking hands. Hips started pushing upward, increasing the sensation. Holland lay back and watched Bobby stroke his cock, wondering how long he could hold back, or would he soon spray cum on his chest. Larry moved closer to Bobby, shifted across the bed until his cock touched boxers, then pressed into hip, and he pushed against it repeatedly as his hand worked up and down Bobby’s cock.

Bobby laid back, closed his eyes and pushed cock up through Larry’s fist as he shuddered from the manipulation. He was desperate for more. His desires, this need for male companionship, overwhelmed him, caused him to take the next step.

“Fuck,” Bobby uttered as he suddenly raised his hips and tugged his boxers down, working his cock back through the fly. He was desperate to get them off. He wanted to be naked. To feel exposed, open to whatever Larry and Holland were willing to do.

Larry, then Holland followed suit. Boxers were tossed on the floor as they lay back naked, cocks hovering hard over abdomens. Larry reached for Bobby, taking his drooling cock and stroking it until his hand was slick. Bobby panted for breath at the stimulation, then reached over for Holland, stroking his cock until slick and wet.

For Bobby, he wanted more, his desires growing until his fears were suppressed. He leaned toward Larry, burying his face in the crook of Larry’s neck and shoulder.

“I want to try,” Bobby whispered, and Larry knew of which he spoke.

Bobby lay back as Larry moved over him, getting on knees between his spread legs. Holland watched as Larry moved up to Bobby and rubbed his leaking cock over the exposed opening. It was tight, resistant to Larry’s ministrations, but Larry pushed harder until Bobby threw his head back and pushed against the flared head.

Holland watched, shocked this was happening with his friends, as Larry breached the tight opening and sank the head into Bobby. Bobby shivered with the penetration, then moaned, as he pushed to take another inch. Larry began to work to his hips, pushing inward and pulling out, working cock deeper and deeper until his abdomen would bump against Bobby’s ass.

Then Larry began to fuck.

The bed rocked in rhythm to Larry’s movements, the push inward and the tug outward. He fucked Bobby, drove into his depths, over and over. It was so intense, more than any fantasy. The tightness, the way Bobby’s opening milked his cock, and the feel of it when buried in the heat of Bobby’s body. He held the legs to his chest and thrust with such a primitive desire the bed began to bang against the wall.

And Holland watched.

With eyes roaming from the expressions of pleasure, down to the hard cock drooling on a flat stomach, then further down to the cock that piston slickly inside the other. Holland watched. His own cock hardened despite his own sexuality, his attraction toward the opposite sex, for this was too close, too real. This sex between two friends. The penetration. The carnal nature of it, this connection between two people that scared so many.

There was the sound of it, the panting for breath, the moans and grunts, and the bed squeaking and banging into the wall. It spoke of this sex, the power of it. Larry thrusting into Bobby. Harder and harder. Bobby stretched out with head tilted back. With eyes closed and mouth hanging open, Holland heard every moan and grunt. Then the heard the pleading.

“Fuck me…fuck me harder,” Bobby begged.

Larry slipped his hands behind the knees and folded Bobby in half, knees pressed into the mattress either side of the torso. Shifted over the body, pinning it down, Larry began to fuck again, to drive cock into the depths of Bobby’s ass. Then he kissed Bobby on the neck, worked his lips up the side of the face and when he began to move along the jaw, lips brushing the smooth skin, Bobby turned, pressing their lips together.

Holland saw the intimacy of it, knowing his suspicions were true. There was more between his two friends than a simple friendship. So much was being revealed during this fuck. Larry turned toward him, with eyes glazed over.

“Holland…please,” Larry pleaded.

Holland knew what Larry wanted. He saw it in the eyes. He stroked his cock until it was slick with his precum, then he moved up onto knees and between Larry’s legs. He raked his cock along the spread ass as it undulated with their fuck. Larry stopped moving, looking over his left shoulder.

“Holland…do it…put it in me,” Larry uttered. He sounded desperate. His tone pleading.

Holland pushed, shocked at how tight Larry felt. The squeeze on the head of his cock was almost too much. It made his cock flex with greater arousal. He could see how enjoyable this fuck was going to be. He pushed inward deeper, sinking a couple of inches into Larry. Then he watched as Larry began to move. To push back on his cock, then move forward, pushing into Bobby.

Larry built up a faster pace, pushing back on Holland’s cock, then shoving his own into Bobby. The bed began to rock again, to protest the weight of their fuck. Holland held Larry’s narrow waist, pulling him all the way back before letting him push forward. It was intense, watching his cock sink all the way inside of Larry and how it felt. The heat enveloping his cock and the tight ring milking the shaft.

Larry cried out, his body shuddering and jerking with release. Holland felt it on his cock, the way the tight opening spasm around his cock. It was too much. He shoved inward and cried out too as he pumped out his load.

Holland eased out of Larry, falling over on the bed as he watched Larry ease his wet, dripping cock from Bobby. Then he saw Bobby’s cock, still hard, the head wet and a pool of clear liquid on his stomach. Bobby held his cock up, stroked it until it was shiny and wet and so hard it flexed in his hand.

“Larry…help me out,” Bobby uttered, looking over at Larry. Larry was on his knees at the foot of the bed, and he knee walked up to Bobby’s waist and straddled it. With Holland watching, Larry took Bobby’s cock and eased down on it. He sank down all the way, easily taking every inch. Then he moved up and down, fucking his ass on that long thin cock. He moved slowly at first, with a steady pace. His cock stayed hard, and when he increased his pace, moved with an urgency, his cock flopped up and down and smacked heavily against Bobby’s stomach.

Holland watched as Larry moved his ass up and down; faster and faster. To watch it move easily up and down on Bobby’s cock was shocking to him. How Larry could take every damn inch. Larry’s cock got fully erect while smacking against Bobby’s stomach. Holland saw Larry’s need, how he needed so much more. He reached out, took Larry in hand, and stroked him. All too soon, Bobby was shoving upward and crying out. It was obvious he was coming, especially how his cock became wet and shiny as Larry kept moving on it. Then Larry shuddered, his rhythm thrown off and Holland felt his cock grow thicker and flex with each ejaculation, spraying cum across chest and stomach.

They collapsed on the bed, heaving for breath, feeling the heat of the others skin against their own. Bobby drifted off to sleep and Larry looked over him at Holland.

“You won’t tell, will you?”

“No,” Holland replied, knowing that Larry and Bobby had crossed a line where there was no return. “I’m going to get going,” he added, climbing off the bed, and going around the room picking up his clothes.

“The vet,” Larry replied.

“Yep.”  Holland slipped on his boxers, then jeans. He pulled his shirt on and began to button the front. “Larry?”

“Yes, Holland,” Larry replied, sounding worried.

“It’s okay. This,” said Holland pointing at Bobby laying next to him. “It seems this is what each of you want, and I’m for it, if it makes you happy.”

“Really?” asked Larry. “Thanks Holland.”

“I’ve got to get going. I’ll let myself out.”

* * * * *

Holland climbed out of his truck, pulled the two pizza boxes across the seat, and picked them up. He crossed the parking lot of the apartment complex cutting between the 8-year old Mustang that belonged to Larry, and the ten-year old Wrangler that belonged to Bobby. They were still old vehicles bought used, but both were in good condition and a huge improvement over what they had been driving.

Up the three steps, down the sidewalk to the stair, Holland then climbed to the third floor 2-bedroom apartment Larry and Bobby now shared. Together, they were able to improve each’s lot in life. Small and big improvements, all under the guise of roommates to most around them. But Holland knew the truth.

Two quick raps on the door, and Holland opened it, going in to find the guys watching the early football game, Georgia versus Mississippi State. He went into the kitchen, setting the pizzas down, then opened the frig for a beer.

“Who’s winning?”

“Who do you think? Georgia is killing them,” said Larry. “Grab me a beer, will ya?”

“Sure. Bobby?”

“I’m good,” Bobby replied.

Holland eased down in the armchair, holding out the beer to Larry. He saw his friends in a new light. Had done so ever since that night over a year ago. The two of them seemed comfortable in their own skin for the first time in a very long while. There had been no repeats of what they had done, no temptation to join them. They knew it was a one-time thing, Holland now dating Emily, had been since last winter.

There had been days, running a tractor across some field, he wondered about that night, and what made him do it. It was an odd thing but no matter what excuse or reason he came up with, it always revolved back to Larry and Bobby. This breaking down of some imaginary barrier that existing between them, and he felt comforted by the idea he played some role in it. They had been living together for five months and Holland saw how this was a living arrangement most of his friends would envy, if only they could get past their prejudices.

“When does the Auburn game come on?” Holland asked, never able to keep up with the schedules like Bobby or Larry.

“Seven. We thought we could watch the LSU game that comes on next,” replied Bobby.

“Who are they playing?”

“Arkansas,” Larry replied.

“They’ll kill them,” said Holland. “When do you want to dig into the pizzas?”

“Let’s wait till this game is over and we can sit at the table and eat.”

“Is Emily coming over?” asked Bobby.

“She gets off work at six and will come over then,” said Holland.

“Hey, next week, let’s go to that sports bar that opened up in Greenville,” said Larry.

“That sounds good.”

“You’ll bring Emily, right?” Bobby asked.

“Definitely…”

The afternoon passed, the guys watching football and bantering back and forth about nothing of importance.