The Hardy Boys

The Case of the Fall Formal Blowout

Bayport High’s Fall Formal is the same night and at the same venue as the Bayport Chamber of Commerce Ball. Naturally, things do not go as planned for the hapless Hardys.

This story takes place between The Hardy Boys and the Case of the Fitting Room Fiasco and The Hardy Boys and the Case of the Hypnotic Hijinks.

This is a work of fan fiction. The Hardy boys and their friends were created by Franklin W. Dixon and no copyright infringement is intended.

The story is told in alternating points of view from chapter to chapter.

Chapter 1: Frank

“Do these look too tight?” I asked, appraising my newly tailored tuxedo pants in the full-length dressing room mirror.

It was Thursday after school and Joe, Dad, and I were back at The Stitchery Tailor Shop for our final tuxedo fittings. Both the Bayport High Formal and the Bayport Chamber of Commerce Ball were tomorrow night and we Hardys were going to be dressed to the nines.

“Nope. They look fine,” Joe said as he sidled up next to me, looking all Tom Cruise à la Risky Business in nothing but his open tuxedo shirt, socks, and tight white briefs. All he was missing was the shades, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he whipped out a pair. He bumped me over a few feet, then hogged the mirror as he stepped into his trousers, tugging them up over his firm, round butt. I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to struggle to button them. For some reason my own pants suddenly felt tighter, and I gulped.

He zipped up - another struggle, I noted - and then looked himself up and down in the mirror. I watched through lowered lashes as he turned from side to side, running one hand over the curve of his butt and the other down his flat belly. When he finally stepped back, he did a front double bicep pose, then shot finger guns at the mirror.

“Oh brother,” I muttered, rolling my eyes for at least the tenth time in the past ten minutes.

Joe winked, waggled his eyebrows, and blew away the imaginary smoke. I rolled my eyes again and frowned at my reflection as I pulled on my t-shirt and shrugged into a tuxedo shirt. “I don’t know. They feel a little snug. What do you think, Dad?”

“What’s that, Frank?” Dad said, looking up from where the tailor, Peter, and his apprentice, Juan Carlos, were finishing up with him.

I turned his way. “I said my pants feel too tight.”

Peter was holding Dad’s tuxedo pants while Juan Carlos stood behind him, reaching his arms around him to button up his tuxedo shirt, smoothing the fabric across his chest as he went. Dad’s face was flushed, and he looked flustered. I also thought I detected a bulge in his white designer briefs, but from my vantage point, I couldn’t be sure and I sure as heck didn’t want to gawk. When he finally stepped into his pants, though, he had the same struggle Joe had to get them fastened.

“Now that you mention it,” he said as he zipped up, “what-“

“Turn around and let me look,” Peter interrupted, shooing Dad over to where Joe and I stood. He lined the three of us up in front of the mirror and gestured for Juan Carlos and Rafa to join him. “Hm, the fit looks perfect,” he said. “What do you think, boys?”

“Fantástico!” Rafa enthused, and I jumped when his hands cupped my butt cheeks.

“No, no, no,” the young Spaniard admonished in that same no-nonsense tone he’d used on Joe and me during our fitting on Sunday. He pulled my phone out of my back pocket and handed it to me. “Hold still now.”

I watched in the mirror as he inspected the seat of my pants, his brows furrowed in concentration. He shook his head and muttered something to Juan Carlos as they moved from me to Joe to Dad, cupping and tugging and patting as they went.

“He has a nice ass!” Rafa said in Spanish to Juan Carlos as he put both hands on Joe’s butt and pulled at the fabric. I tried to translate in my head, but they were speaking rather quickly, their voices low.

“Oh yes,” Juan Carlos agreed, also in Spanish. “Just like his father’s. You can bounce a quarter off it!”

“Are you talking about Chasing Quarters?” Joe asked, turning so quickly his crotch bumped into Juan Carlos’s face and knocked him onto his butt.

[in Spanish] “Oh my God,” Rafa cried out, trying to stifle a laugh, “The bulge in your pants is so big it knocked down poor Juan Carlos!”

“Sorry about that, dude,” Joe said as he stood over a grinning Juan Carlos, his hand extended to help him up. “Were you talking about Chasing Quarters? I played that once, but I don’t remember if I won or not. Do you, Frank?”

“Do I what?” I asked, looking up from the text message I’d just received.

“If I won Chasing Quarters. At least that’s what I think they’re talking about. My Spanish isn’t very good.”

“You don’t seem to have any trouble with the menu at Taco Kart,” I said.

It was Joe’s turn to roll his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, when Rafa said [in Spanish], “You have a very large bulge in your pants. It looks delicious.” He had a very big smile on his face, and he winked.

“Oh, um, thank you?” Joe tapped me on the shoulder. “What did he say?”

“Huh?” I said distractedly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I have a class project coming due and I’m texting one of the guys in my class about it.”

“You’re such a nerd, bro.”

 [in Spanish] “What do you think of Frank here?” Rafa asked Juan Carlos.

[in Spanish] “I think he's like his father: a homosexual in the closet,” he replied with a big grin.

[in Spanish] “What about the blonde?”

Juan Carlos laughed. [in Spanish] “Oh my God. He couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. He might as well be wearing a sign that says, ‘I want to suck your dick.’”

I glanced up from my phone and narrowed my eyes. “What did you say?”

Juan Carlos looked at me, eyes wide. “I said, the pants are perfect and not too tight. Yes, Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter agreed with a hand clap. His eyes were gleaming as he looked from me to Joe and then to Dad. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

“Told ya, bro!” Joe said cheerfully, playfully elbowing me as he once again adjusted the bulge in his pants. I noticed that after all the poking and prodding from Rafa and Juan Carlos, I was starting to get hard as well.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I muttered, thinking again about what Juan Carlos had said. I wasn’t fluent in Spanish - mine was much better than Joe’s, though - but something seemed off. I turned to Juan Carlos to ask him to repeat what he said, but just then Rafa ran his hand up my inner thigh to check my inseam, and all intelligent thought vanished. I moaned.

“Frank, Frank,” Peter said, patting my hip and rousing me from my stupor. How long had I been zoning out? “Turn and face me so I can check out the front.” I did as I was told and noted that Dad and Joe also sizeable bulges in the front of their tuxedo pants. Thankfully, Juan Carlos and Rafa didn’t seem to notice as they stepped back, pausing briefly to survey us, hands on their hips, before resuming their poking, cupping, and tugging.

“Okay then,” Peter said at last, seeming pleased with what he saw. “Almost finished.” There were more pictures - Peter and his partner, Javier, kept a photo history of their clients to refer to during fittings - and then we were finally done. “That’s it now. Please take off your trousers and the boys will put them in garment bags for you.

I was very aware of the tent in my underwear and felt self-conscious as I stepped out of my pants. I glanced over and saw that, like me, both Joe and Dad were sporting erections in their briefs. Joe’s was huge and how he didn’t notice it was a mystery. Meanwhile, Dad was red-faced as Juan Carlos whispered something in his ear.

Peter must’ve noticed the look of consternation on my face because he smiled and clapped his hand on my shoulder. “It’s perfectly natural, Frank,” he said wryly as he glanced down at the bulge in my tight white briefs and then over to Dad and Joe. “Like father like son. Well… sons.”

I blushed and cleared my throat, then hurriedly dressed in my street clothes. Joe collected our tuxedos and we all headed to the front desk.

Chapter 2: Dad

“I’m gonna put these in the car and then get a frozen yogurt,” Joe said to me, his hand out for the car keys as I was settling the final bill.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I replied, fishing the keys from my pocket and handing them over. “We’re eating as soon as we get home, and I don’t want you to ruin your dinner.”

“Or what?” There was a note of challenge in his voice, and he had a haughty smirk on his face. “You gonna spank me?” He winked at Peter as he backed through the shop door.

I let out a deep sigh and turned back to Peter. He had a slight smirk on his face. “Will that be cash or charge?” he asked. I pulled my American Express card from my wallet and handed it to him.  

“You’re fortunate Rafa and Juan Carlos took such precise measurements on Sunday,” he continued as he slid my card, a note of disapproval in his voice. “If these tuxedos didn’t fit so perfectly today, I don’t think we would be able to have them finished in time for tomorrow.” He handed the card back along with the slip for me to sign. “You really should have come yesterday when I requested.”

“I apologize,” I said, feeling both chastised and subdued as I hastily scrawled my name on the receipt. “Wednesday is the night the men’s Bible study and prayer group meets.”

“Oh?” Juan Carlos said as he joined Peter at the front desk. “Was there something you needed to confess, Sr. Hardy?”

Peter coughed to cover a laugh and I felt my face redden. When Peter had called early Monday to ask if the Boys and I could come in for our follow-up fitting Wednesday evening, I’d lied - something we Hardys are loathe to do - and told him I had Bible study. Well, it was more of a white lie: our church DOES have a men’s Bible study and prayer group that meets on Wednesdays, but I’ve never attended. 

“Um,” I stammered, feeling my erection springing back to life. What the devil?

“I am joking, señor,” Juan Carlos said. He sounded innocent, his eyes wide, but I detected a slight smile. He lowered his voice, “But tell me, were you really so drunk that you do not remember Sunday afternoon?”

“I, um.” I had a full blown hard on now and it was straining painfully at my zipper. What was going on with me? “I don’t remember very much after I left the restaurant. To be honest, most of the afternoon is a blur.”

Sunday afternoon I’d had a business lunch with a client before my fitting and unfortunately had a bit too much to drink. Needless to say, I was a little smashed at my fitting. Juan Carlos had assisted Peter that day and I’d had the niggling feeling all week that I wasn’t remembering something important. Of course, I had no memory of the inappropriate comments he’d made while taking my measurements, or of how handsy and overly familiar he’d gotten with me in my inebriated state. And I had no idea that the alcohol I’d consumed had knocked my moral compass so completely off its axis that I put up no resistance whatsoever when he manhandled me and worked me to a raging erection.

The part of the afternoon I do remember, however, is full of shame and humiliation. The Boys had discovered me stumbling drunk, disoriented, and disheveled through the shop in only my underwear. They confronted me about my actions and somehow, I’d ended up splayed across Joe’s lap getting my brief-covered backside spanked in full view of the shop staff.

Teaching me a lesson, the Boys had explained. Ezra Collig, Bayport’s Chief of Police, and a good friend, had been there as well, and had driven me home afterwards, giving me time to sober up and regain what was left of my dignity.

“I normally don’t drink so much,” I continued, “and from what you and the Boys have said - well, from what you haven’t said - I take it my behavior was out of line. I apologize to you and Javier. And to Juan Carlos and Rafa.”

“Fenton, my boy,” Peter said, placing his hand over mine on the counter, “all is forgiven and forgotten.” However, from the look on Juan Carlos’s face, all was certainly not forgotten. In fact, a disturbing image of Juan Carlos touching me and probing my intimate spots flickered through my mind and suddenly I was more erect than I could remember being in a very long time, which confused me because I’ve been happily married to Laura for twenty years and in all that time, I’ve never had a single homosexual thought.

I put the thoughts out of my mind with a sigh, finished with Peter, and went in search of Frank.

“We need to be going,” I said when I found him on a bench outside the store. “Mom just texted and said dinner is almost ready. Have you seen your brother?”

“He’s in the car.”

I sighed. “Good.”

There must’ve been something in my voice because Frank put his hand on my shoulder. “Ignore him, Dad,” he said. “He’s just a dumb kid.”

“Thanks, Sport,” I laughed, ruffling his hair as he leaned into me. “You know, I really am sorry.”

“I know you are, Dad. I know you’d never get drunk like that on purpose. Joe knows it too. He’s just being a jerk.”

I smiled and gave a small shrug. “Thanks. But I let you and your brother down and I have to own up to it. The truth is, I’ve never had a high tolerance for alcohol. Back when I was still with the NYPD, before we moved to Bayport, I’d sometimes go out with the guys after work but could never remember what happened the next day. After a while I got tired of hearing from other people about all the dumb things I did.” Frank’s eyes went wide, and I hastened on. “Not that I ever did anything bad. Just stupid. And not often, mind you. But I was lucky that my partner Sam always took care of me. It’s important to have a good friend like that.”

Frank nodded. I put my hand on his shoulder and looked him square in the eye. “I’m also sorry for how I punished you and Joe when Officers Kincaid and Lasko brought you home that night. I realize now it wasn’t your fault and I apologize for how I embarrassed you boys.”

Frank hugged my tightly. “Thanks, Dad. I really hated disappointing you.”

I hugged him back. “Let’s consider the whole situation forgotten.”

Chapter 3: Joe

“I look sick in this tux, dudes!” I crowed as I strutted into Frank’s bedroom Friday night where he, Chet Morton, and Biff Hooper were all getting ready for the formal.

Frank gave me a quick once-over before going back to adjusting his bow tie. “Your cummerbund is upside down.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Chet said. “I googled it: pleats should face upwards. Nice touch with the suspenders, though. Very James Bond!”

“I know, right?” I said, waggling my eyebrows.

“I still think these pants are too tight,” Frank muttered as he looked at his butt in the mirror.

“Bro, I told you,” I said as I fixed my cummerbund, “that’s the style.”

“I think you look fine, Frank,” Chet said. “What about you, Biff?”

“Oh, I know I look fine,” Biff replied with a smile. He winked.

“No, I’m talking about Frank. Do you think his pants are too tight?”

Biff rolled his eyes. “I know who you meant.” He gave my brother an appraising look, “Nice ass, Hardy.”

“Language, Biff,” Dad said as he walked into the room. He was wearing a midnight blue, slim-fit tuxedo and he looked very dashing.

“Looking good, Dad!” Frank said. “Very debonair.”

Dad grinned. “Thanks, Sport.”

“Yeah, you look awesome, Mr. H,” Biff agreed, and he sounded a little awestruck. In fact, it looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. “Talk about James Bond!”

“Thank you, Biff,” Dad said, and I thought I detected a blush. A blush? He stepped back and gave Biff a long look up and down. Biff was an imposing guy. He was about Frank’s height but more muscled. He was on the football team and boxed at the Bayport Y. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Thanks, Mr. H,” Biff said, ducking his head. He was blushing as well.

I elbowed Frank. “I think Biff’s got a crush on Dad!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“A bromance,” I quipped.

“Your dad’s awesome, man,” Biff stated, a bit defensively. “Have you ever googled him? He’s a legend.”

“Maybe you two should get a room.”

Everybody turned to me and I put my hands out, “I’m kidding!”

Thankfully Mom appeared just then. “Look at all these handsome men!” she exclaimed, hands clasped in front of her. “I can’t believe you’re all going stag!”

“Bros before hos!”

“Don’t be vulgar, Joseph,” she chided, frowning at me.

“What?” I asked. “What’s vulgar about that?”

“You don’t even know what that means, do you?” Frank said, shaking his head.

I shrugged. “I heard it in the locker room the other day and-”

“Everybody downstairs,” Mom ordered, interrupting me. “Iola is waiting, and I want to get pictures.”

“Awesome!”

“Oh, Mom,” Frank grumbled as he slipped into his tuxedo jacket.

“Now, now, none of that, Frank,” she said as she shooed us from the room.

Chapter 4: Frank

“Where is your brother?” Mom asked impatiently as she looked at her watch. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”

“Maybe if you had fewer mirrors in the house.”

“Good one, Frank,” Chet whispered, fist-bumping me.

“I heard that,” Joe said as he joined us in the living room. He scowled at Chet, “Can it, numb nuts.”

“Joseph!” Mom scolded. “Watch your language.”

“What? I heard that at practice.”

Mom fixed him with a look and then turned to Dad. “Where’s your camera, Fenton?”

“Trudy has it,” he replied. Trudy is Aunt Trudy. Well, her name is Gertrude, but she prefers Trudy.

“Oh dear,” Mom fretted. “How am I supposed to take pictures now?”

I slid my phone out of my back pocket. “Here, Mom. Use my phone. It has a really great camera.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

I took a minute to show her how to use some of the camera features, and then she began taking pictures. Lots of pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. I groaned inwardly.

“Oh dear,” Mom said as she squinted at the screen and then looked up at us. Or, more precisely, looked at Joe.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is something the matter?”

“No… Oh dear, Joseph,” she stammered. “You, um… oh heavens…”

“Is my hair messed up?” Joe asked as he turned to one of the mirrors on the wall. “Were my eyes closed?”

“No, dear. Your zipper is down.”

“Oh shit!” Joe exclaimed.

“Joseph!!” Mom snapped. “Language!”

“Boom!” I cried out, taking my phone back from Mom and swiping through the pictures she’d taken. So many pictures. I grinned triumphantly as I looked up at Dad, noticing the smile on his face as well. I’ve lost count of how many times Joe’s told me or Dad - usually in public - that our fly was open and then laughed his butt off when we fell for his stupid joke. “Your fly’s open, Joe!”

“Shut up, Frank,” Joe snapped. His white underwear stood out in stark contrast to the black of his tuxedo pants and he struggled to pull his zipper up over the prominent ridge.

“Easy there, Joe,” Dad said.

“Dude,” Biff snickered, “do you have a boner?”

“Oh, Biff!” Mom tittered. Her cheeks turned pink.

“Look at him,” Biff continued, laughing. “He does!”

I leaned towards my brother as Iola peered around me, trying to get a better look. “Joe’s gotta boner, Joe’s gotta boner,” I sing-songed.

“I do NOT have a fuckin’ boner, douche clown!” he shouted as he finally managed to zip up.

“JOSEPH!” Mom cried, her hand covering her heart. She turned to Dad, “Did you hear what he said, Fenton? That word! I think your son needs a good spanking.”

“What?!” Joe and Dad said at the same time.

“Hell-heck, I mean, no way!” Joe protested.

“Don’t you talk back to me, young man!” Mom huffed. “You’re not too old to be put over your father’s knee.”

“Or him over mine,” Joe shot back.

“What was that?” Mom demanded, looking from Joe to Dad (who’d gone pale) and back again. “Are you talking back to me?”

“No,” Joe bit out, and she flinched like she’d been slapped.

“Fenton?” She had her hands on her hips, a sure indication that she meant business.

Dad stepped forward. The color had come back into his face. “Come on, Joe. Over here.”

“You’re not serious!”

“I’m afraid so,” Dad said as he sat on the couch. “You heard your mother.”           

Chapter 5: Joe

I let out a long, exasperated sigh and slowly shuffled my way to the couch. “This is bull.”

“What was that, Joseph?”

“Nothing, Mom,” I muttered. I was about to lie across Dad’s lap when she spoke again.

“Oh, no. Not so fast. Pants down.”

“What?!” I spluttered as I turned to face her. “Iola’s here!”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Iola said sweetly. She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Just pretend I’m not even here.”

“An-and the guys!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started smarting off.”

 I didn’t budge. Mom’s cheeks went from pink to a deep red. Her eyes narrowed and locked on mine. “Now, Joseph,” she said, “if I have to come over there and take your pants down for you, your undershorts are coming down too and your father will spank you on your bare bottom.”

I gulped and took my jacket off. I handed it to Chet along with my cummerbund. I slid my suspenders down and unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. I glared coolly at Mom as I shoved them down to my knees.

Her mouth dropped open and I heard several gasps and a few snorts of laughter. I looked down to see that I had the mother of all erections straining my tight white briefs.

“Joseph, that’s disgusting.”

“I can’t help it, Mom! It just does this on its own!”

Frank shrugged. “It’s true, Mom.”

“Told you he had a boner,” Biff said. “Dude, you’re gonna put an eye out with that thing!”

“Oh, Biff, you’re so bad!” Mom said with a chuckle. A chuckle?! What the heck?

“Watch out, Biff,” I said sullenly, “or you’ll get a spanking, too.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Biff shot back. He winked at Dad and Dad turned beet red.

I leaned over Dad’s lap. My cotton covered butt was at just the right height for spanking, a perfect white target. Dad flipped my shirttails up, exposing my butt.

“This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me, Chief,” he said.

I looked up to see him smiling broadly. “Wait a minute. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Aren’t you suppo-“

THWACK!!

“Yewotch!!” I cried as Dad’s big hand made contact and I reached behind me to rub the spot. As I did, my crotch ground into Dad’s lap and I felt something firm and hard beneath me. Before I could ask why he had a flashlight in his pocket, he grabbed both my hands in one of his and continued to spank me.

“Ouch! Dad, please! I’m sorry!!!” I cried, my body lurching and bucking as he delivered my punishment. I lost count of how many smacks he gave me because I was distracted by that dang flashlight poking me.

When he finally finished, he helped me stand. He stayed seated, however, his hands folded in his lap. I realized I was still hard and yanked my shirttails down to cover myself, but not before I saw Frank, Chet, Biff, and Iola lower their phones.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “Okay, honey,” she said gently, “go wash your face and come back here so we can take more pictures.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I sniffed.

After the pictures - so many pictures - were finished to Mom’s satisfaction, we left. Me and Frank in one car, Chet and Iola in Chet’s car, and Biff in his.

The Bayport Convention Center was only a few miles away and we had no trouble finding parking. We got out of our cars and Iola went off to meet her friends. My phone dinged with a text from Biff saying he was waiting for us inside - how did he get here so fast? - and I suddenly remembered the pictures Mom had taken, the ones of me with my zipper down.

“Hey Frank, delete those first pics Mom took, will ya?”

He gave me a funny smile. “Oh yeah, sure. I’ll get right on that.”

“Thanks. Oh, hey… no way, Frank!” I opened Instagram on my phone and sure enough, there I was, flying low. Frank had even zoomed in for one post.

I turned to glare at him. He just smirked.

Chapter 6: Frank

So far, the formal had been fun. I was still grinning thinking about Joe getting spanked when I left the dance floor. I passed Chet on his way to the refreshments stand and made my way back to our table where Joe and Biff were sitting.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother and he’s my best friend, but sometimes he can be a real pain, so it felt good to have the upper hand, so to speak, for once. Not that I’d ever blackmail or extort him, mind you, but just knowing that I had some embarrassing pictures of him, not to mention a video of him getting spanked - yeah, I went there - made me feel pretty good.

Okay, so maybe I would extort him if I ever had to.

“Going stag sucks,” Joe said as I slid into the chair next to his.

“What happened to ‘bros before hos’?” Biff snarked.

“Don’t let my mom hear you say that.” I said. We all laughed.

A slow song came on and all the couples flocked to the dance floor.

Biff pushed his chair out and got to his feet. “I’m bored. You guys wanna go check out the vendor tables down the hall?”

I shrugged. “Might as well.”

The Chamber of Commerce ball was at the other end of the Bayport Convention Center and Dad had told us there would be vendor tables and sponsor booths. Maybe there’d be some food. All they had here was some too-sweet punch and assorted cookies.

The doors to the ballroom were closed and most of the tables and booths were closed down and empty. As we got closer, I saw a couple of guys packing up one spot: Bayport Edibles, the newest bakery in town.

Joe and I rushed over. “Hey, are you closed for the night?” I asked.

The guys, both only a couple of years older than us, looked up. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Dang,” Joe muttered. “I was hoping you had some Brownie Bites left over.”

The guys glanced at each other and look passed between them. “Oh yeah? You’re

a fan, huh?”

“Heck yeah!” Joe and I enthused at the same time. We turned to Biff. “They’re so good!”

One of the guys opened a big plastic bin and pulled out several small bags. He handed each of us two. “Knock yourselves out!”

“Sweet,” I said, popping one of the bites into my mouth. “What do we owe you?”

“No charge. Courtesy of the Chamber of Commerce.”

“That’s dope!” Joe said, tossing two into his mouth. “Thanks!”

“No prob. Be sure to tell all your friends.”

“We will!” I called over my shoulder as we headed back to the formal.

Chapter 7: Dad

“Congratulations, Fenton!” Chamber of Commerce president David Marsh said to me, pressing a glass of champagne into my hand as he patted me on the back. “That’s quite an honor: Public Servant of the Year!” He clinked his glass to mine and gestured for me to take a drink. I did.

Thirty minutes earlier, I’d been surprised with the prestigious award, which was followed by a round of toasts, then photographs, then more toasts, some glad-handing, and then more toasts.  

“Thank you, David.” I smiled and took a sip. I was still shocked by the win, and by how many toasts had been made. It seemed as though every time I set my glass down, I was handed another. By now, I was feeling very festive, and my tongue was definitely loosened.

I saw my wife Laura beckoning to me from across the room and I excused myself.

“What is it, honey?” I asked when I reached her. I swallowed the last of my drink and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter, automatically taking the flute he offered.

“I feel a migraine coming on,” she said with a frown. “I think I’m going to go home.”    

“Oh no, I’ll go with you. Let me tell David.”

She put her hand on my arm. “Don’t be silly, dear. You just received the Public Servant of the Year award! Stay. I’ll take a cab.”

“No, you take the car. I’ll call a cab or a rideshare.”

“Okay, then. Walk me out?”

We were crossing the lobby to the front entrance when a familiar voice called. “Hi Mr. and Mrs. H.”

“Hey, Biff,” I said, stopping to shake his hand. “Why aren’t you at the formal?”

“Just stretching my legs,” he said. He looked at his watch. “You’re leaving a little early. Is everything okay?”

“Mrs. Hardy isn’t feeling well,” I explained. “She’s going to go home.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”        

“Thank you, Biff,” Laura said. “Fenton, are you sure you don’t want me to leave the car? I can take a cab.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “I’ll call a cab later.”

“I can give you a ride home,” Biff offered.

“That’s not necessary,” I insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

Biff looked at the drink I didn’t even realize I was holding and arched an eyebrow. My face colored and I wondered if maybe one of the Boys had told him about Sunday afternoon. “I’ll come find you when the ball is over,” he said in a tone that brokered no argument.

I drained the champagne and set the glass down on a side table. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“Give me your phone.” I looked at him quizzically but handed it to him. He swiped and tapped at the screen a few times and then handed it back to me. “Here, I added my number to your contacts. Text me when you want to go. This party sucks ass anyway.”

“Biff!” Laura tittered. He winked at her, and she blushed.

Chapter 8: Joe

I finished one bag of Brownie Bites before we got back to the formal. Frank was taking his time eating his. “Savoring them,” he said. Whatever. We’d lost Biff somewhere along the way; something about finding a bathroom and to not wait for him.

We got back to the dance just as the DJ put on ‘Uptown Funk.’ “I love this song,” I crowed as I ran to the dance floor. The DJ was leading the song and grinned when he saw me busting my Hardy moves. He waved me over and we lead the dance together.

When the song was over, the DJ called a ten-minute break and walked back to his set up. "Nice moves," he said over his shoulder, beckoning me to follow.

“Thanks, man. You too.”

“I’m Jack.”

“Joe. Nice to meet you.”

He introduced me to his partner, a guy named Parker. “We should hang out some time,” he said. It was so loud I had a hard time hearing him, but he said something about going back to his place later with somebody named Molly.

I frowned. “I don't think I know her. I might be able to hang out for a little while, but I’ve got a curfew.”

“Whatever, man. It's all good.” He handed me a cup of punch, then took a business card from his wallet and held it up: Jack's Party Jams. He slid it into my back pocket and gave my butt a bro-pat. “You should come do a gig with me some time.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “For sure. You'd be a real hit.”

“That'd be sick, dude.”

He pointed to the glass in my hand. “Drink up and maybe I’ll see you later.” He winked and gave me another pat on my backside. “Call me.”

“I will.”

Chapter 9: Dad

Apparently being solo at an event with a full bar was a mistake because it seemed like everybody wanted to buy me a drink. Before I knew it, I was feeling no pain.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked when I approached. He laid down a cocktail napkin.

“Just a glass of water, please.” I popped something called a Brownie Bite into my mouth. Mm, tasty.

“Nonsense,” a voice boomed, and I turned to see Tom Blanchard, a reporter for the Bayport Tribune, striding toward me with one hand outstretched and a drink in the other. He shook my hand effusively and nodded to the bartender. “Beefeater and tonic for my friend here.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Tom,” I protested. “I think I’ve had enough.” I took the glass of water from the bartender. “In fact, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Nonsense, Fenton. Don’t be such a pussy. One drink’s not going to kill you.”

I cringed at his crude comment. I finished my water and pulled my wallet from my back pocket to put a few bills in the tip jar, when Tom clapped me on the back. The movement jarred me and I bobbled my wallet. It dropped to the floor and when I bent over to pick it up, there was a loud ripping noise. I felt the seat of my pants give.

“Oh, shit, Fenton!” Tom laughed loudly. “You just split your pants!”

“And… that’s my cue to leave,” I mumbled as Tom walked away with his drink, his boisterous laughter resounding throughout the room. I fumbled my phone from my pocket and somehow managed to send Biff a text.

“Señor Hardy,” a familiar voice said. I looked up to see Juan Carlos and Rafa standing a few feet away. From the beaming smiles on their faces, it was obvious they’d witnessed my mishap.

“Hello Juan Carlos. Rafa,” I said. “Please excuse me. I was just leaving.”

“Oh, surely not, Sr. Hardy!” Rafa effused. “You won an award tonight!”

“Yes,” Juan Carlos agreed. “¡Felicidades! We should celebrate.” He picked up the rather large gin and tonic the bartender set down and handed it to me.

“Oh, I don’t think so, boys,” I stammered, suddenly flustered. I took a gulp of my drink. It was quite strong and I shivered. “Unfortunately, I’ve had a small accident.”

Juan Carlos flashed me a mischievous smile. “Yes, well, not so small,” he said, reaching back and running his hand up the split in my pants. “The tear in your pants is quite long.”

“Yes, all the way up the seat,” Rafa said, and his hand joined Juan Carlos’s. They were both grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh dear.” I took another gulp, shivering as I felt their fingertips slide along my crease.

“But not to worry,” Rafa said, running his hand up and down my arm.

“Yes, Sr. Hardy,” Juan Carlos rushed out. “I have a small sewing kit with me. It is in my jacket pocket in the coat check room. Rafa will assist me and together we will take care very good care of you.”

Before I knew it, they were ushering me through the room, Juan Carlos on one side, Rafa on the other. Rafa had a firm hold on my arm while Juan Carlos used one hand to cover my exposed backside. I groaned when his hand slid into the long rip and his fingertips began to toy with the elastic leg band of my briefs.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we left the ballroom.

“Somewhere private,” Juan Carlos said.

“Private?” I practically squeaked when I felt his hand brush across the front of my trousers, slowing when it moved over the erection I was sporting. “Why private?”

“Yes, private. We cannot fix these trousers without lowering them,” Juan Carlos explained. “In fact, I think we may have to remove them completely, and I do not think you wish for your colleagues and friends to see you exposed?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course not.”

[in Spanish] “Especially not when you have such a huge boner,” he continued.

“So, private, yes?” Rafa confirmed.

“Yes,” I agreed, swallowing more of my drink. “Private.”

[in Spanish] “Yes, and hopefully we can finish what we started Sunday afternoon,” Juan Carlos said cheerfully.

“Unghhhh…”

“What is the matter?”

“All this Spanish speaking is making my head spin," I said.

Rafa laughed. [in Spanish] “Really, Sr. Hardy? Are you sure it's not all the alcohol you've had to drink?”

 

"Well, I might have had a bit much to drink."

Juan Carlos stopped us and looked me straight in the eye. “I knew you understood our Spanish.”

I gasped and felt a twitch in my briefs.

We continued to walk and as we rounded the corner, Rafa’s hand moved from its place on my arm to join Juan Carlos’s on my backside and into the split of my pants. He patted my butt and then his fingers began to feather up and down the length of my butt crack.

I jumped. "What's that?"

"Mmm? Is something the matter, Sr. Hardy?” he said, his voice all light and innocent as his fingers continued to gently probe me.

I gulped and opened my mouth to speak when we suddenly stopped and Rafa pushed me into a small coat check room. There was a table in one corner, and I quickly found myself bent over it as his hands reached around my waist, nimble fingers working at the button and zipper of my pants.

“Oh, um, what’re you doing?” I spluttered.

“I told you, Sr. Hardy,” Rafa said. “We need to take off your pants to fix them.”

“Oh, well, yes, but-“

“You're very drunk, Sr. Hardy. Please, I will assist you.”

Within seconds my pants were down at my ankles and hands cupped my cheeks through my designer briefs, gently squeezing, massaging, and spreading them.

“Oh, gosh. Mmmmm…” My head was spinning and my mouth was dry. I took another gulp of my drink. When a finger slipped beneath the elastic of the leg opening, I yelped and jumped nearly a foot.

“Boys, boys,” I rasped out, aware of a tingling sensation in my balls. “What are you doing?”

“Take it easy, Sr. Hardy,” Rafa said as he got down onto his knees behind me. Just relax and enjoy this. You know you like it.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I said weakly as I took yet another gulp of my drink. I could feel my penis throb and begin to leak.

Juan Carlos gave my butt a playful swat. “Just like on Sunday at the store,” he purred. “You couldn't get enough of me manhandling you.”

I moaned and pushed back into the hands that were roaming over my backside. Juan Carlos chuckled. “That’s it. You are such a dirty, horny whore.” 

“You have a fantastic ass,” Rafa said, and there was an almost reverent tone in his voice. “I would love to get inside these pants.”

“What?!” My dick had completely unfurled in my tight white briefs and was ramrod stiff.

“Oh yes,” Juan Carlos agreed. “I would love to fuck you.”

“Is that what you want, Sr. Hardy?” Rafa asked as fingers once again made their way beneath the elastic leg bands.

“Unghhh…”

“Yes, you want Rafa and me to fuck you?” Juan Carlos asked seductively as he slid his index finger slowly and deliberately all the way inside me.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I babbled when it hit home, using words we Hardys try never to say. He pushed it in deeper and I began to ejaculate, filling my white designer briefs with semen.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

He continued to finger me and was sliding in a second when there was a ruckus at the door.

“What the heck’s going on in here?” a voice boomed out. It was Biff!

Both Rafa and Juan Carlos let out gasps. “Oh, Sr. Hardy here ripped his pants and Rafa and I were repairing them.”

“With what, your fingers?”

“No, no. We were…” Rafa trailed off before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Sr. Hardy is very drunk.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Biff said. He lifted my chin and looked into my bleary eyes. I had a blissed-out, post-orgasm smile on my face. “You okay, Mr. H?”

Juan Carlos put his hand on Biff’s arm. “We were just-”

“Get lost, the two of you. Now.”

They fled, practically falling over themselves in their haste to leave.

Chapter 10: Frank

I had to take a leak so I veered off to the first bathroom I found. I was lost in thought when I exited and took a must’ve taken a wrong turn, because I couldn’t find the room where our formal was taking place. Instead, I ended up wandering down a series of long, deserted hallways. Finally, I decided to stop and reorient myself. There were benches lining the windows of the hall and I sat down on one. I pulled the second bag of Brownie Bites from my jacket pocket and was opening it when a familiar voice called to me.

“Hi Frank.” I looked up to see Neal Bunyan standing a few feet away. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a black paisley bow tie and matching cummerbund. He looked very handsome.

“Hello Neal,” I said. I remembered our last meeting, Sunday afternoon at The Stitchery Tailor Shop. He’d leaned over me and Joe while we’d tussled on the floor and asked, so shy and gentlemanly, if I wanted to hang out tonight. I felt a bit tingly, then I remembered ‘that’ night and I stiffened.

That Night.

Several weeks back, Neal, along with Mikey Griffin, Luke Costigan, and Jeff Steffen, had invited Joe and me to a party. They’re four of the most popular guys at school and I had naively thought Joe and I had finally been admitted to the ‘Cool Kids’ Club.’ Boy, had we been wrong. They got us drunk and then, after stripping us to our underwear, spanked us. Then the cops showed up, threw us in the back of a squad car, and drove us home. Dad had been waiting for us on the porch and ended up spanking us in front of the entire neighborhood. It was the most humiliating night of my life.

As if he’d read my mind, he rushed forward and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m really sorry about that night, Frank,” he said, his voice rough. He sat next to me and I could see the sadness in his eyes and the heaviness in his shoulders. “I was such a jerk and I’ve wanted to apologize ever since.”

I looked up at him and squared my shoulders. I wanted to slap his hand away but for some reason the weight of it felt good. “I don’t know, Neal. I don’t remember a lot about that night, but I remember enough. You guys got me drunk and then humiliated me. Me and Joe. You…” My voice caught but I sat up straight and continued. “The police took us home and they… they...”

“Frank, please,” he said, not removing his hand from my shoulder. “I know I was a dick and I’m sorry.” It sounded like he was going to cry. “I’m so sorry, Frank.”

I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“You know how those guys are,” he said miserably. “Jeff and Mikey and Luke-”

“No, I don’t know how they are,” I replied indignantly. “I’m not friends with them. I mean”- I looked away, not wanting him to see how upset I was - “I thought they wanted to be friends. I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“I do!” His hand slid down my shoulder to grasp my bicep. “I do want to be your friend, Frank. If you’ll let me.”

I turned to face him, wiping at my eyes. “Why?”

He gave me a funny grin. “Why? Because I like you, Frank.”

I blushed and looked away for a moment and then back at him. “I like you, too.”

“Really?”

I nodded shyly. His smile was incandescent.

I held out the open bag of Brownie Bites and he took a few. “These are good,” he said after he swallowed. He took three more and popped them into his mouth. “Where did you get these?”

“Bayport Edibles,” I said, showing him the bag. “They had a booth over at the Chamber of Commerce Ball.”

He took the bag from me and read the label. “Frank, these are pot brownies.”

“What?”

“Pot. Weed. Marijuana.” He sighed. “Bayport Edibles is a marijuana dispensary.” He turned my face to his and looked into my eyes. “Oh, Frank. You’re stoned.”

“Oh no!” I gasped, panic rising. “Principal Woods is here tonight! If he sees me- if he finds out, he’ll suspend me!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“After that night at Mikey’s, I got called into his office - me Joe, and my parents. He’d heard what happened and was going to suspend us. My Dad got him to listen to our side of the story and after we explained what happened - don’t worry, we didn’t name names - he said he’d overlook it this one time, but if anything like that ever happened again, he’d have no choice but to suspend us.” A sob slipped out and tears began to flow. I dashed at them with my hands. “I can’t get suspended, Neal. I’ll lose my scholarship to Bayport U!”

He pulled me into a hug, then put his finger under my chin and tilted my face up. “Look at me, Frank. You’re not getting suspended. You’re not going to lose your scholarship or get kicked out. I promise.”

I sniffled. “You promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Now let’s get out of here.” He stood and put his hand on my shoulder. “Did you drive?” I nodded. “Good. Text your brother and tell him to meet us at your car in twenty minutes. I’ll drive you home.”

I pulled my phone out and sent a text to Joe, Chet, and Biff.

Neal took the bag of Brownie Bites from me and dumped the remaining bites into his mouth.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Getting rid of the evidence.”

“Neal!”

“Hey, I already had six. What’s a few more gonna do?”

“You’re crazy.”

“For you.” He grinned through a mouth full of crumbs.

I returned his smile and stood, brushing crumbs from my pants. I noticed my shoe was untied and knelt to tie it.

RIP!!!!

“What was that?” Neal asked.

I giggled. “I think my pants just ripped.” I caught my reflection in the window and, sure enough, the seat of my tuxedo pants had split from top to bottom, revealing my white briefs.

Chapter 11: Joe

I was still humming ‘Uptown Funk’ as I searched for an open bathroom. The one by our ballroom had a line out the door and I couldn’t wait, so I went in search of another one.

The convention center was locked up tight though, and I was about to pee in a potted palm when I finally found an open door. It was an office suite in the process of being renovated and the walls were torn down to their studs. But there was a functioning bathroom and I gave a thumbs up to the Big Guy Upstairs.

I finished my business and washed my hands. I splashed some cold water on my face - I felt lightheaded - and was about to leave when the door burst open and two guys about my age hurried in. They bumped into me and caused me to stumble. My arms flailed and I went down on one knee.

RIP!!!!

“Oh no!” I cried out. “My tux pants just ripped!” I got to my feet, trying to look over my shoulder as I did. I could feel the tear - it went all the way up the seat of my pants, splitting them completely open - but couldn’t see it.

I spun around four or five times like a dog chasing its tail as I craned my neck to get a look. I felt dizzy, my legs got tangled up, and I went down on my butt. There was another ripping sound and I felt the entire backside of my pants give way. I began to giggle. I had no idea I was stoned off my butt. Literally.

“My God, he’s an idiot,” one of the guys said, in Spanish, as he shook his head.

“Oh look,” the other said, “it's Mr. Joe.”

I didn't understand what they were saying until I realized they were speaking another language. I looked up and recognized the two assistants from the tailor shop. “Oh hey, it’s you, the dudes from the tailor shop! Juan Carlos and Rafa, right? What are you doing here?”

Juan Carlos reached down to take my hand. “We are here at the Chamber of Commerce Ball. How is your dance?”

“Oh, it's fine," I said as he pulled me to my feet. “Well, except my pants ripped.”

“That’s terrible. How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.” I turned to show him and caught my reflection in the mirror, confirming that the tear went all the way up the seat of my pants, fully exposing my white briefs.

Rafa gasped. “Oh my god, look at his ass!” he said, in Spanish.

I turned to him. “Is it bad?”

“No,” he said, in Spanish, “it's a perfect buttle butt. Absolutely spectacular.”

“Oh, that's good. Can you fix it?”

“What?”

“You know. Fix it.” I pointed to my butt and made a sewing motion. “Don't you have a sewing kit or something?”

“As it happens, I do.”

“Cool, cool. So you can fix it?”

“Hmm... let me see.”

Rafa turned me so he could see where the seat of my pants had split. I jumped when I felt hands touch by butt. “What're you doing?”

“I am seeing what the tear looks like,” he explained as he ran his hands over my butt and then up and down my hips. “Please, take off your jacket.”

“What? Why?”

“You don't want to wrinkle it.”

“Oh, good point. Hey maybe I should take my shirt off too?”

“Yes, let me help you.”

Rafa and Juan Carlos helped me out of my jacket, then lowered my suspenders, took off my tie, cummerbund, and shirt. Unlike Frank, I wasn’t wearing an undershirt.

“What are these?” Rafa asked, pulling a bag of Brownie Bites out of my jacket pocket.

“Ooooh! Brownie Bites.” I’d forgotten all about the second bag. “Give ‘em here.”

“But they are - um,” he pointed at the label as he handed the bag to me, “they are edibles.”

“Of course they’re edible,” I said as I popped two in my mouth. “I had a bag earlier.”

They shared a look and Juan Carlos said to Rafa, in Spanish, “Do you think he even knows he's high?”

Rafa smiled and shook his head. [in Spanish] “No. He’s as clueless as his father.”

[in Spanish] “Clueless, yes. But just as hot.”

“Si.”

I finished the Brownie Bites as they talked, then tipped the bag and dumped the crumbs into my mouth. Hands circled around my waist and I yelped, spraying crumbs, when I felt my pants being opened. “Um, what’re you doing, dudes?”

“It will be easier to mend your pants if you take them off,” Juan Carlos said as he pushed them down.

I wiped my mouth. “Oh, good idea.”

“These are so tight,” he said as he worked them slowly down my legs.

When my pants were finally off, Rafa put his hands on his hips and took a step back. As his eyes traveled slowly up and down my body, it didn’t even dawn on me that I was wearing only my tight white briefs and black dress socks. Up to this point, I’d spent more time around them undressed than dressed so it just felt natural.

He took a step closer as he continued, “Mmm, let’s see. I think this will be easier if you bend over these, what do you call them, a sawhorse?”

“You’re the boss,” I said. They pushed two sawhorses together, draped my tuxedo jacket over them, then eased me down so my upper body was resting on them. I reached out and gripped both ends of the sawhorses, unaware that my brief-clad backside was now sticking up prominently in the air.

Juan Carlos slid his hands between my legs and pushed them until they were about shoulder width apart. For a moment, I wondered why it was necessary for me to be bent over in this position, but then he cupped my bulge and I forgot whatever it was I’d been thinking.  

He seemed able to read my mind, because every time any kind of rational thought threated to pierce the veil of my haze, he’d find yet another spot that made me see stars.

I heard him gasp. “Oh my!” he said, in Spanish. “His penis is bigger than the burrito I had for dinner!”

It was the word ‘burrito’ that finally pulled me out of my daze. I lifted my head. “Are you ordering Mexican? I wanna burrito, too!”

“Oh, I'll give you a burrito, you hot piece of ass,” Rafa said, in Spanish, as he firmly, but gently, eased my head back down.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘I’ll give you a burrito.’”

“Thanks, dude!”

Rafa slid his hands from my shoulders to my wrists and back again. I glanced up and my nose bumped the ridge pushing out the front of his tuxedo pants. I noticed his fly was open.

“Oh hey,” I started to say, but at the very moment Juan Carlos ran a finger back and forth between my balls and my butt, and I lost the ability to speak.

I gurgled and my eyes rolled up as he caressed that sensitive spot, his fingertip sweeping back and forth as his other hand stroked my dick. All I could do was moan. “Mmmnnnnmmm…”

As he continued jerking my dick, he began toying with the leg band of my briefs. He playfully snapped the elastic a few times and then slid his finger under the soft cotton until it touched my hole.

“Oh!” I squeaked as the tip of his finger massaged my anal knot. It took nearly a minute, but I finally found my words. “Wha- Oooohh!! That tickles! Oh! Ooooh… mmm… Do it again. Yeah, right there, dude.”

He tried to tug my briefs down, but they got caught on my boner, so he had to settle for pulling them down over my butt. “That’s better,” he said as he slid his finger back inside me and sawed it back and forth.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I moaned, drooling as my head thrashed back and forth. I felt myself squirt a little into my briefs.

“Wait till I put my cock in your ass,” he whispered in Spanish.

A second finger joined the first and I yelped loudly, “OH DUDE! OH DUDE! OH DUDE!”

“Shut him up or the whole place will hear him!” Juan Carlos admonished.

A hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head up. I yelped. “Wh-“ but Rafa’s dick pushed into my mouth.

“Mmmpphh,” I moaned around the thick length of flesh invading my mouth. I tried to pull off, but Rafa’s hand was on the back of my head and he held me in place as he began to thrust back and forth.

I tried to resist for a couple of seconds, but after a while it just seemed easier to go with the flow and motion.

“Mmmmmm,” I moaned as I sucked and slurped, bobbing up and down on it like it was second nature, all the while pushing back on the fingers sliding in and out of my butt.

At no point during all of this did it ever occur to me to try to stop what was happening. My hands never left the ends of the sawhorses and I never once tried to stand up. Now, though, as Rafa was using my mouth like a sleeve for his dick, I wrapped one hand around his shaft and gripped his butt with the other.

“Oh Dios! He’s sucking my dick like it’s a lollipop,” Rafa moaned.

“Lollipop!” I giggled as I pulled off with a loud pop. I licked up the shaft and then dove back down, taking it as deep as I could.

There was movement to my left and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Juan Carlos hand a little brown bottle to Rafa.

“Here, take these poppers,” he said, in Spanish. “I was hoping to use them on Sr. Hardy, but that big blond guy interrupted us. I guess we can use them on Joe.”

“Poppers!” I cried out as I pulled off Rafa’s dick. A faded memory floated up from somewhere; something from when Frank and I tried to find a stolen mascot at a frat house at Bayport U. A lot of that night is hazy, but I remember it as being one of the best nights of my life. However, whenever I try to recall specific details, it’s as if whole sections of the night had been plucked from my memory.

“I think he’s ready for a third finger,” Juan Carlos said in Spanish.

Rafa uncapped the bottle and put it to my nose. I reached up, pressed a finger over my open nostril, and took a deep breath.

“You’ve done this before, I see,” Rafa said as he moved the bottle to my other nostril. I took another deep inhale.

“Fuuuuucccckkk…” I sighed as the little bottle did its magic. I felt my body slump, but Juan Carlos was bracing me and kept me upright. Rafa’s dick slipped from my lips but he guided back to my mouth and I resumed greedily sucking and slurping. He put the poppers back to my nose. “Come on, Joe,” he urged. “More.”

Who was I to argue, I thought, and took a deep snort.

I was in a rhythm now. Rafa thrust in, Juan Carlos thrust up, I thrust down. Back and forth and back and forth we went.

“OH! OH! OH!” I wailed, pulling off Rafa’s dick with a loud slurp as I bounced up and down on his fingers like I was his puppet. Rafa gave me more poppers.

A tingling sensation had been building slowly over the past few minutes and now it was coming to a head. Juan Carlos’s fingers had found something deep up inside me. It was like a bell and he kept ringing it. It felt so good. So dang good! I felt a third finger push in and I cried out. “Oh fuck! More, dude! More!”

The fingers felt so thick! Hands gripped my hips and my basic elementary school math suddenly came back to me. Two hands on my hips: one, two… Two hands on my head: three, four. Wait... so what was that inside me?

Too late I realized what was happening and… Oh no!  

“I'm cumming!” I cried as semen filled my tight white briefs. I continued bouncing up and down. “I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I’m cumming!”

Once my orgasm had ripped through me, I slumped back into Juan Carlos’s arms tired and spent. “Come on,” he said as he pulled me up onto my hands and knees and patted my cheeks. “We’re not done yet.”

But my head was swimming and I felt so tired. I was about to drift off when the door slammed open and I heard a familiar voice.

“Joe, are you in here?!”

Chet?

Chapter 12: Dad

“You’re a little shit-faced, aren’t you, Mr. H?” Biff said, putting his hand under my chin and tilting my face up.

I looked up at him through bleary eyes and opened my mouth to rebuke his language, but he talked over me. “Yeah, you reek like gin. Hitting the sauce pretty hard tonight, huh?”

I didn’t realize I was still holding my half-finished gin and tonic. “Oh, um - HICCUP! - I’d appreciate it if you - HICCUP! - didn’t say anything to the Boys.”

He took the glass from my hand and downed the remaining contents. “No worries. Your secret’s safe with me.”

I looked at him, open-mouthed. He shrugged, “Hey, what Pastor Hooper doesn’t know...”

“Your secret’s safe with me too - HICCUP! This time.”

“This time,” he laughed, rolling his eyes as he playfully ruffled my hair. “You’re funny, Mr. H.” He ran his calloused thumb across my lower lip.

“Thanks,” I managed between hiccups as I smoothed the front of my shirt. I burped. Loudly.

“Oh man, your breath stinks.” He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a roll of Certs. He pushed one into my hand. “Here.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I put it into my mouth.

I got a good look at him as he helped me to my feet. He was about my height, with blue eyes and short, dark blond hair. It looked like he’d been poured into his tuxedo. He caught me looking and lowered his eyes, his normally roguish smile turning sheepish.

“Okay, let’s get you dressed,” he said. He got down on his knees and I had to stifle a groan as he pulled my pants up. “Oh hey, tighty whities, huh?”

I looked down to see him studiously eyeing my designer underwear. He glanced up at me and winked. “Fancy ones, too. That’s what I wear. Well, not designer ones like these,” - he snapped my waistband and grinned when he saw my dick lurch - “but yeah. Briefs. My boys need a house.”

I gulped and his grin spread across his face.

He pulled at the waistband of my pants and tugged them up and over my butt. “Dang, how tight are these pants, Mr. H?”

He continued to pull and tug with no success. Then his nose scrunched up. “What’s that smell?” He leaned forward, sniffed again, and lifted up my shirttails. His eyes went wide, and his mouth curved into a smirk. “Oh shit, Mr. H, did you cream yourself?”

I groaned in embarrassment and closed my eyes. They flew open a second later when his big hand cupped my balls. “Feels like you got another load in them, hey?” He gave them a gentle squeeze. I moaned and pushed into his hand. “You’re liking this, I can tell.” He met my eyes and winked. “Don’t worry, Mr. H. I’ll take care of you.”

He drew two fingers up the length of my suddenly very hard shaft and stuck them into my mouth. He slowly slid then in and out. I moaned and swirled my tongue around the fingertips.

“Damn,” he whispered, “let’s get you the fuck out of here.”

“Language, Biff,” I slurred as I pulled off his fingers with a slurp.

He slapped my shoulder, “Oh, Mr. H.”

He tried once more with my pants without success. “What’s with you Hardys and boners?” he laughed as he stood up and took a step back. He put one hand on his hip and drummed the fingers of his other hand on his chin. “Screw this,” he finally said, and hoisted me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“What the heck?” I cried out in surprise. “What’re you-”

“Hush,” Biff interrupted with a swat to my butt.

The shock of being slung over his shoulder with my pants halfway to my knees, and then having my backside smacked shut me up and I stayed silent as we walked down the hallway toward the side entrance.

“You have to promise you won’t say anything to the Boys about this. Especially Joe,” I said again as Biff pushed through the side door to the deserted parking lot. I could feel the crisp autumn air on my upper thighs.

“Why? You don’t want another spanking?” I tensed. “Yeah, I saw the video,” he said. “That knucklehead put it on TikTok, but don’t worry, he blurred your face.” He ran his hand along the curve of my butt. “Of course, I’d know this ass anywhere.”

“Oh fuck,” I moaned.

“Language, Mr. H!” Biff gasped in mock surprise. He gave my butt another swat and I was suddenly hard. “Ow, my shoulder,” he said playfully. “Watch where you poke that thing.”

I moaned again as my penis twitched and shot a bit of pre-cum into my briefs.

“Easy now,” Biff said, shifting my weight and practically crushing my balls against his shoulder. “My car’s right out here in the parking lot. We’ll be there in a sec.”

We were just down the stairs and were crossing the walk to the parking lot when a voice called out. “Oh my! Who is that? You, there! Young man! What is it you’re doing? Are you carrying somebody?” I looked up to see my neighbor, Mrs. Page, gawking at us. “Why, is that Fenton Hardy? Shameful!”

“Mind your own business,” Biff growled at the nosy buttinsky and something in his voice made me go even more erect.

Mrs. Page gasped and spun on her heel. “Well, I never!” she spluttered indignantly as she stalked off into the darkness. “Wait until the Ladies Auxiliary hears about this!”

Chapter 13: Joe

“Finally. There you are, Joe!” Chet said.

“Oh, mierda!” Rafa and Juan Carlos gasped when they saw Chet looming in the open door. The light framing him from behind cast a shadow that made him look massive.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” he looked from Rafa and Juan Carlos to me. I must’ve been a sight, down on my hands and knees with the back of my briefs down below my butt.

Juan Carlos grabbed Rafa’s hand and they bolted, pushing past Chet as they fled from the bathroom.

“Who-?” Chet turned to me. “Hey, why are you naked, Joe?”

“I’m not naked,” I giggled as I pulled up my briefs.

He pointed at the door. “Who was that?”

“The dudes from the tailor,” I tried to explain through more giggles. “They were fixing my pants.”

Chet picked up my pants and put his hand through the split in the backside. “They sure did a bang-up job.” He laughed and I giggled more.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked.

Chet held his phone out. “Frank texted. He says you need to leave.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“He said the Brownie Bites you ate have marijuana in them. You’re high.”

“Oh dang!” I giggled. I headed for the door, unaware that I was wearing only dress socks and my white, cum-soaked briefs.

Chet laughed and grabbed my arm. He held up my pants. “You need to get dressed first.”

I looked down and giggled again. “Whoops!”

He held them out for me and I stepped into them. His nose scrunched up. “What’s that smell, Joe?”

I sniffed. “Sour cream, I think. We had burritos.”

I finished dressing and we left. We turned the corner leading to the exit and bumped into somebody. It was the DJ, Jack.

“Whoa! What happened to you, Joe?” he asked as he looked me up and down. His eyes stopped on the bulge in my tuxedo pants.

“Oh, heya Jack!” In the light of the hallway, I got a better look at him. He was about my height with sandy brown, artfully tousled hair. He was wearing ripped skinny jeans and a Buffy the Vampire Slayer t-shirt.

He looked into my eyes and laughed. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m high!” I whisper-shouted. “I’m supposed to meet Frank at our car. Chet’s taking me.”

Jack turned to Chet. “You can’t get back inside if you leave,” he informed us. “It’s one of the rules.”

“Oh shoot,” Chet said. “I forgot about that. What’re we gonna do, Joe?”

“I can take you if you want, Joe,” Jack offered.

“That works for me,” I said. “Catch ya later, Chet!”

“Yep! I’ll text Frank and let him know.”

Jack took my arm and we pushed outside into the night air. “You’re all kinds of fucked up, aren’t you?”

I just giggled.

“You do realize your pants are split up the back, right?”

I clapped my hand over my mouth. “I forgot!”

Jack put his arm around my shoulder. “You know, Parker’s doing the last set so I’ve got an hour to kill. You wanna go out to my van and chill for a bit?”

“Is Molly gonna meet us there?”

“Sure, although it looks like you two’ve already met.”

“Huh?”

Jack cleared his throat. “Who’s this Frank guy you’re supposed to meet?”

“Oh, he’s my brother.”

“Is he gonna leave without you?”

I shook my head. “No, he’s my ride.”

“Cool. My van’s this way.”

When we reached Jack’s van, he opened the side door and we climbed in. One side held all his DJ gear and the other side was decked out like some kind of lounge. We sat on a plush bench seat.

“Get comfortable,” he said as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. My eyes almost bugged out of my head when I caught sight of his chest. He was built!

“You like what you see?”

I nodded and took my jacket off, then my shirt. His eyes widened when he saw my chest. “Want me to flex?” I asked.

“Sure, man!” He leaned back and gestured for me to stand.

I stood and flexed my biceps a couple of times, then did my patented Joe Hardy Pec Bounce. He reached up and tweaked a nipple and I giggled. At the same time, I felt my dick twitch in my tight white briefs.

He must’ve noticed because he leaned over and opened my pants. “How about we get you all the way comfy?” He yanked my pants down below my knees. His eyes widened when he saw my bulging white briefs and his mouth curved into a Grinch-like smile.

He had me lift my feet so he could take my shoes off, then he stripped my pants all the way off. Something fell out of the pocket and he picked it up. It was the poppers. He eyed the bottle and arched one eyebrow. “Poppers, huh?” I grinned.

He opened the bottle, stood, and held it under my nose. I took a long sniff. He put a hand on my shoulder and eased my back down to the bench. It was a good thing, because I felt like I was floating!

He grinned and pulled something from his pocket. He put it to his mouth and a moment later blew out a cloud of smoke. It smelled like bubble gum.

“Whoa, what the heck is that?” I asked.

“It’s a vape. Wanna hit?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t that tobacco?”

“Nah, think of it like... infused herbs.”

“Huh? Infused what?”

He laughed and sat back down. He pressed the pen into my hand. “Quit over-thinking things and try it.”

I shrugged and put it to my mouth. I didn’t know what to do next so he took it from me, slid closer until our legs were pressed together, and put it back to my mouth. He clicked something and told me to breathe in. The next thing I knew my lungs were full.

“Hold it and let it settle for a sec,” he instructed, softly brushing at my hair with his fingers. “Okay, now let it out.”

I blew out a huge, bubble gum scented cloud. “Holy wuh!” He grinned at me and ran his fingers down the side of my face. “Wanna try again?”

“Heck yeah!”

“Okay, this time take as deep a breath as you can and hold it in for as long as you can.” He put the vape in my hand and guided it to my mouth. I hit the button and sucked on it. I held it in longer and when I finally exhaled, a white cloud filled the entire van.

“That’s sick!” I giggled and took another hit.

He was still sitting right next to me, his hand resting on mine. A few seconds later he took it and placed it on his upper thigh. I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants. When I looked up, he was gazing back at me.

“Wanna see it?”

I nodded.

He stood up and faced me, stepping between my legs, easing them apart. He was so close I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. Laughing, he pushed my head back down and I watched as he thumbed the buttons of his jeans open one by one. He opened the poppers and put them under my nose, switching from nostril to nostril three times.

I sighed and slumped forward. He pushed his jeans down over his butt, revealing tight black briefs that barely seemed able to hold his straining erection. He cupped the back of my head and drew me forward, pressing my face against his boner. I sighed again, moaning as I breathed in the heady scent of sweat, musk, and pre-cum.

He held my head in place and I mouthed up and down the length of his erection, my slobber wetting the thin cotton, pre-cum smearing over my lips and chin.

“You wanna taste?” I nodded, wide-eyed. He lowered his briefs and his hard cock popped out. He took it in one hand and ran it back and forth across my lips, smearing them with his goo. Then he held it against my lips. They parted readily and he slid it in.

“Mmmpph,” I moaned as he gently thrust in and out, burying it deeper with each successive stroke. I flicked my eyes up and saw he had his phone out. He winked down at me. “Smile for the camera, Joe.” I grinned, giggling around his cock, feeling drool drip from the corners of my mouth. I gave him a thumbs up.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he said a minute later before he abruptly pulled out. I was about to protest but he tipped my chin up and gave me more of the poppers. I felt the blush drift from my face and he smiled.

“You’re ready, aren’t ya?”

I had no idea what he meant so I just nodded. He eased me down onto my back. He tugged my briefs off and tossed them over his shoulder. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a shiny foil-wrapped package. Then he put my legs up over his shoulders.

“You’ve got a nice pussy,” he said, and held the poppers under my nose once more.

Chapter 14: Dad

“Mmmm, what’s that noise?” Biff said as we crossed the parking lot.

“Huh? I didn’t hear anything.” Truth was, I’d been distracted by Biff’s backside ever since he slung me over his shoulder. It was like two melons had been stuffed into those tuxedo pants, and more than once I silently thanked the good Lord above for the fine work he’d done.

I looked up to see where we were headed and saw a van parked a few yards away. The side read ‘Jack’s Party Jams’ and it looked like it was moving up and down.

“That van’s got some seriously great shocks,” Biff muttered.

As we neared it, the muffled chants of “Oh, Jack! You’re queerin’ me! You’re queerin’ me!” could be heard over the blaring music.

Biff banged on the side of the van. “Come on, Joe. You can mess around with Jack another time.”

The music stopped and the back door opened. A cloud of bubble gum flavored smoke billowed out. I coughed once as I inhaled the flavored smoke. It smelled delicious and I took several deep breaths.

There was a gasp and I looked up.

“Dad?”

“Joe?”

We locked eyes. Through the haze of smoke I could just make out that he was on his hands and knees. Another boy, handsome with brown hair, was behind him. Were they naked?

“Get your clothes on, Joe. Chop! Chop!” Biff said as he shifted me to his other shoulder. He glanced at his watch. “Weren’t you supposed to meet Frank like an hour ago?” We moved a step closer to the van and Biff leaned in. “What’s that on your chin?”

Chapter 15:  Joe

“Oh crap!” I giggled as Jack closed the van’s door. “My dad was wasted!”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “That’s your dad, huh? I might have to get his number.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” He flipped me onto my back, hit the vape, and exhaled in my face.

“Oooooh, bubble gum!” I giggled as he put the pen between my lips and pushed my legs up.

“Jack!” I squeaked, blowing out a cloud of smoke as thrust into me.

Chapter 16: Frank

“I told him to meet us here in twenty minutes,” I said, looking at my phone. Neal and I were in the front seat of my car as we waited for Joe.

Neal rubbed my shoulders. “Just relax, he’ll be here.”

I nodded but went back to impatiently looking at my phone.

He took my phone and set it on the dashboard. “How’re you feeling?”

“I think I’m high,” I giggled. “Am I high?”

“As a kite,” he laughed. His expression changed. “I was talking about before, though.”

I looked up at him sheepishly and smiled.

“I really am sorry for my part in everything,” he said.

“I know. Thank you for saying that.”

He lowered his head. “I really do like you, Frank.”

“Thanks, Neal. I like you too.”

“No, I mean I really like you.” He turned in the driver’s seat so his legs reached across the bench seat to where I was. I crawled between his legs and hugged him. He hugged me back. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine.

I giggled. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m kissing you,” he said. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Why?”

“Duh. Because I like you.”

We kissed again and then again. Soon we were making out and I forgot all about Joe.

“Oh Frank,” Neal panted, I don’t know how much later, as he put my hand on his crotch. I could feel how hard he was.

“Wow,” I said.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That’s how you make me feel.”

I realized I was hard too. I took his hand and placed it over my erection. “Me too,” I whispered.

He kissed me and I could feel him smiling. Then he cupped me and began to gently squeeze and knead my bulge. I began to massage his, marveling at how big his balls felt.

“Oh Neal,” I breathed as I began to hump into his hand. I felt his dick throbbing in my palm and I reached down to undo his pants.

“What’re you doing, Frank?”

“Shhh.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I know. I want to.” I worked the button of his tuxedo pants open and slowly lowered the zipper. He was wearing light grey briefs and they were wet where the tip of his erect penis had leaked through the soft cotton.

I glanced up at him then bit my lower lip and tugged his tuxedo pants down to his hips. I lowered my head and pulled his underwear down. His dick, hard and thick, popped up and bounced off my nose. I giggled and caught the head between my lips. I wrapped my hand around the base and licked it like it was an ice cream cone.

“Frank! Oh... oh, Frank!”

I gave it several more licks. Then I slid it into my mouth and took it as deep as I could. I shifted positions and soon my butt was high in the air, my split tuxedo pants exposing my brief-clad butt for anybody to see.

“Who is that?” a voice called out. I pulled off of Neal and looked up to see an old woman peering through the window. “Is that Frank Hardy? Shameful!”

I gasped. “Oh my gosh, it’s our neighbor, Mrs. Page!”

“Mind your own business, you old bitty,” Neal growled. I put my hand over my mouth and giggled.

She stepped back and straightened up. “Well, I never!” She spun on her heel and marched off. I giggled again.

“You’re so high, Frank.”

I continued to giggle, which made him laugh, too. Then I resumed licking and sucking his dick while gently squeezing his balls. His big hands cupped by butt. “This feels nice, Frank.”

“Neal!” I gasped when I felt his fingers slip beneath the leg bands of my briefs. He began feathering them up and down the length of my crease.

“Oh, Neal!” I whispered loudly, burying my face in his shoulder to muffle my moans of pleasure. “Neal!”

He kissed my temple and slid one long finger into my tight hole.

“Oh Neal, I’m cumming!” I cried out, raising my head as I began to ejaculate into my briefs. “Oh, I’m cumming, Neal! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

He laughed and crashed his mouth over mine.

We kissed for a few minutes and then I eased my way back down so I could suck his dick again. A little while later there was a shuffling noise outside the car and I heard Joe say, “Hey Neal. What’re you doing here and where the hell is Frank?”

“Language, Joe,” I said as I pulled off Neal’s dick and pushed myself up onto my forearms. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I looked him up and down. His hair was messed up and he was wearing only his tuxedo jacket, shirt, and shoes. He had his pants in one hand and his phone in the other. I sat up and reached for my seat belt. “Neal’s driving. Get in.”

Chapter 17: Dad

By the time we reached Biff’s car, a mint-condition 1976 white Cadillac Coupe DeVille his grandparents gave to him when he turned sixteen, I’d forgotten all about Joe and the van and the delicious smoke. Biff unlocked the passenger door and tumbled me face down onto the long bench front seat. He closed the door and ran around to the driver’s side.

My pants had slid down below my knees and I was struggling to pull them up when Biff jammed his key into the ignition. The engine roared to life and he threw it into reverse and backed out of the space. He hit the brakes, put it into drive, and stepped on the gas. When he made a sharp right onto Bayport Drive, my body lurched sideways, catapulting me face first into his crotch.

“Oh, Mr. H,” he moaned as he playfully smacked my butt. I moved to lift my head, but his big hand came to rest on the back of my head and he held me in place as we turned onto Main Street and drove through downtown Bayport, my designer brief-clad bottom prominently on display.

“Mmm,” I moaned as he drove, my face moving from side to side over the prominent ridge in his tuxedo pants. He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs further and pushing my head deeper between his legs.

A few minutes later we slowed and then came to a stop. “We’re here,” he said as he shut the engine off. He gently lifted my chin. “You okay, there Mr. H?”

I smiled giddily. “Hiccup!!”

“Dude,” he laughed. “You’re so hammered. Let me give you a hand inside.”

There was a crinkling noise when he helped me into a sitting position and he pulled a small white bag from the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “Oh, I forgot all about these Brownie Bites.” He opened the bag and shook three into my hand. “Have some. You need something to soak up all that booze.”

After we finished the bag, Biff got out of the car, came around to my side, and helped me out of the car. He wrapped his arms around my waist and flipped me up onto his shoulder again.

“What the devil?” I spluttered.

He let out a long, low whistle and ran a finger up and down the length of my butt crack. “Nice ass, Mr. H,” I almost came on the spot. He continued to caress it as carried me up the front walkway.

He stopped at the front door and reached for the spare key he knew we kept on top of the left lantern light. He slid it into the lock and quietly entered the house.

“Where to?” he asked.

“My bedroom,” I replied. “Mrs. Hardy will be in the guest room down here. She sleeps there when she has a migraine. It’s quieter and there’s less light.”

He climbed the stairs as though I weighed nothing and deposited me onto the overstuffed loveseat in the sitting area of my bedroom. “I think that G&T’s starting to hit me,” he said as he eased my tuxedo jacket off me. “I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

I watched as he fanned himself with his hand. Then he stood up and slipped his jacket off. “I need to get out of this monkey suit.” He undid his bow tie. “You’re heavier than you look. I guess they’re right when they say muscle weighs more than fat.” He tossed his coat and tie on the bed and then pulled his dress shirt and t-shirt over his head in one fluid movement. My eyes widened as I took in his shirtless body.

“That’s better,” he said, flapping his arms a bit. “I’m totally pitting out.”

My eyes had roamed down his broad chest and were lingering on the bulge in his tuxedo trousers. He cleared his throat and I looked up to see he had one eyebrow cocked. “Whatcha looking at, Mr. H?”

“You remind me of my old partner.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Sam.”

“That was his name?”

I nodded.

“What was he like?” he asked as he reached down and unbuttoned my shirt. He pulled me forward so my face was mashed against his broad chest as he pushed the shirt off my shoulders. Then he eased me back and slid the shirt all the way off.

He urged me to put my arms up so he could take my t-shirt off. “You with me Mr. H?” he asked as he gently slapped my cheeks. “We were talking about your old partner.”

I nodded as I lifted my arms. “Right, Sam.”

He pulled my t-shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. Then he got down on his knees and slipped my shoes and socks off. When he looked up, he was at eye level with my crotch. “Oh, shit, Mr. H,” he said, his eyes wide, riveted to the huge tent in my white designer briefs, “I think somebody’s a little horny.”

“Language, Biff.”

“Fuck that.” He stood, put his arms under my armpits, and pulled me to my feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He stumbled as he walked backward toward my bed. I overbalanced as I tried to right myself and we fell onto the bed, Biff on his hands and knees on top of me. His sweaty armpit was less than a foot away from my nose. I inhaled deeply.

“Oh, you like that, huh?”

I looked at him - he was smirking again - and then I saw the tent in his tuxedo pants. He put my hand on it and held it in place.

The room felt like it was spinning.

“Easy with the hands there, Mr. H.”

“Huh?”

“You’re giving me a squeezer.”

I glanced up and saw that I was still cupping him through his trousers. “Oh.” I looked at him.

“You’re still pretty drunk, aren’t ya?” he said with a wink, his lip curling up in a smile. I felt his big hand go to my bulge and I shivered and groaned as he stroked his thumb up and down the length of my erection through my briefs. “You made a mess in these, didn’t you?”

I groaned.

“Not to worry.” He got up and began rummaging through my dresser drawers. A few seconds later he turned around, around holding up a clean pair of briefs. He tossed them on the bed next to me and then reached for my waistband.

“What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like? You creamed your shorts. I’m putting a fresh pair on you.”

Supremely embarrassed, I squeezed my eyes shut and threw an arm over my face to avoid looking at him. I was fully erect when he slid the clean underwear up my legs and it took several seconds for him to get me all situated and tucked away.

“There you go.” He patted my crotch. I almost shot again.

I moved my arm and we stared at each other for a moment. I watched him pocket my soiled briefs and opened my mouth to say something when his stomach growled.

“Dang, I’m hungry,” he chuckled. “Where’s my jacket? There should be some Brownie Bites.” He found it and suddenly stopped. “Oh jeez, Mr. H. No wonder I feel so weird. These are from Bayport Edibles.”

“Huh?”

“They’re pot brownies.”

I looked at him, not comprehending.

“Marijuana, Mr. H,” he said, trying to suppress a laugh. “There’s marijuana in these brownies.”

“Oh. Ok.”

He waved his hand in front of my face and snapped his fingers. “Earth to… oh my God, Mr. H,” he snorted, “you’re higher than a kite.”

I giggled.

“Focus, Mr. H,” he said as he slipped off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants.

“Uh, Biff? What’s going on?”

“We’re both high,” he explained as he pushed his trousers down, exposing his own tight white briefs. I couldn’t help but notice they were straining from his erection. He stepped out of his pants and draped them over the loveseat. Then he gathered the rest of our clothes and laid them out as well. “I figure I’ll crash here for a while, ‘cuz my dad’ll fuckin’ kill me if I show up stoned.”

“Language, Biff,” I said, then burst into another fit of giggles.

“Oh my God, you’re totally baked,” he said as he put his big hand on my chest and pushed me onto my back. “Slide over.”

He slid in behind me, the mattress dipping under his weight. I felt his arm slide around me and the room began to spin. I slowly started pushing back into him.

“What’s this, Mr. H?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly and he began to thrust his hips. His hand snaked up my chest and he toyed with a nipple. I moaned. “You like this?” he whispered, rolling my nipple. I groaned louder. “Shhh, be quiet for Daddy,” he said.

“Daddy?” I said.

He just laughed. “Shut up and go to sleep, Mr. H.”

Instead, I rolled over, surprising him. I lifted the blankets and dove down. “Um, what’re you doing down there, Mr. H? Mr. H? Ohhh… ohhhhh… Oh, Mr. H!”

Chapter 18: Frank

Biff’s car was in the driveway when we got home. Joe was snoring in the back seat and despite my and Neal’s best efforts to wake him, we ended up leaving him where he was.

Once inside, there was no sign of Biff. We listened for signs of activity and hearing none, tip-toed upstairs and down the hall to my room. When we neared Dad and Mom’s room, I saw there was a light on under the door. I put my finger to my lips. “Shhh.”

“Unh, uhn uhn!” a muffled voice groaned as we passed by. It sounded like the headboard was hitting the wall. “Oh yeah, come on... that’s how Daddy likes it.”

“Daddy?” I giggled and Neal clapped his hand over my mouth.

We reached my room and I closed my door behind us. “Oh my gosh,” I said as I flopped onto my bed, “I think I can still hear the bedsprings!”

Neal stepped between my legs, his big frame looming over me, and I watched under lowered lashes as he undid my belt. He took his time, trying to be both gentle and gentlemanly as he stripped me.

He was biting his lower lip as he unbuttoned my pants and then unzipped my fly. He patted my hip - “Upsy daisy, Frank” - and leaned down to lift me up a few inches so he could lower my pants. However, no matter how much he tugged and yanked, he couldn’t get my pants down.

“Jeez, Frank, how tight are these?” he grumbled, still grinning.

“I know, right? I tried to tell them!” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. After assessing the situation for several long seconds, he pulled me to my feet, then got down on his knees in front of me.

I did my best to balance myself, putting my hands on his shoulders, as he yanked my pants down. I giggled as I heard another seam give. He eased me back down to the bed, pulled my shoes off, and stripped my pants the rest of the way off. He stood between my wide-splayed legs and tipped my head up. His smile was bright. I reached out and opened his pants. He was hard and his erection was obvious in his grey briefs. They were wet through with pre-cum now and I leaned in to inhale the musky scent, my nose brushing the sticky wet.

“Frank!” he gasped.

I looked up at him and smiled. Then I licked my lips, leaned back in, and mouthed up and down his length. He moaned and carded his fingers through my hair as he firmly, but gently, held my head in place. I could feel the vein in his shaft throbbing.

“I don’t have anything,” he said. “Protection, I mean. I don’t have-”

“It’s okay, Neal. Just shut up and get in bed.”

His eyes went wide and he smiled. “Yes sir!”

He hopped onto the bed next to me and we excitedly settled ourselves under the blankets. A moment later, I got onto my hands and knees and burrowed down. “Um, what’re you doing down there, Frank? Frank? Ohhh… ohhhhh… Oh, Frank!”

Chapter 19: Joe

“Ugh,” I moaned as I rolled off my bed and onto the floor. Wait, no... not the floor... I was in the footwell of a car! What the ever-loving heck?!

For several seconds I didn’t know where I was and I felt befuddled. Oh my gosh, that was a word Frank would use! What did it mean, anyway? Then I realized I was in the back seat of Frank’s car. But how?

We’d all gone to the Fall Formal, I’d danced, and then… Holy cow, what happened after that? And why wasn’t I wearing any pants?

I crawled up onto the seat and found my phone and something else. It looked like a magic marker. I popped the cap and sniffed - ooooh, bubble gum! For some reason, as if I was on autopilot, I put it to my mouth, hit the button, and inhaled. A familiar sweetness filled my lungs.

“Fuuuuuucccck,” I sighed as I exhaled, watching as a white cloud filled Frank’s car. I leaned back, and without thinking, took a second, longer hit, this time holding it in for several seconds. As I let it out, I tried to remember the events of the night. I drew a blank.

There was a tingling feeling in my butt and I had a raging hardon. I took another hit off the pen and when the cloud cleared, my legs were up on the head rests of the front seats, spread wide, my dick was in my hand, and I was masturbating.

“Stroke it, stroke it, stroke it,” I mumbled as my fist slid up and down, “and pump, pump, pump.” I reached down and touched my hole through my briefs. No, not my hole... What had Jack - Jack? - called it? My pussy?”

A memory flickered into view. I was on my back, naked, holding my knees up around my ears, and I was screaming, “My pussy! My pussy!” as Jack…

I shook my head, took a vape hit, and continued to masturbate. “Stroke it, stroke it, stroke it, and pump, pump, pump... Stroke it, stroke it, stroke it, and pump, pump, pump…”

I didn’t realize that my finger had slipped under the leg band of my briefs and was in my hole until I started cumming. The first stream hit the headliner and splattered down on me. The second and third shots hit me squarely in the face. Of course, my mouth was hanging open and I felt at least one shot hit the back of my throat.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped as I wiped my hand on shirt. I sucked on the pen to get rid of the funky taste, then leaned my head back again, and tucked my dick back into my briefs.

There was a pounding on the window next to me and I jumped. I sputtered and coughed out a bubble gum scented cloud.

“What are you doing in that car, young man?” an elderly woman demanded. Crap, was that Mrs. Page?

She peered closer. “Is that you, Joe Hardy?”

I pushed the car door open and exited in a billow of smoke.

“Drugs!” she cried, clutching one hand to her heart. “Does your mother know you’re out at this hour in your underpants? Shameful!” She gave me a once-over. Well, make that a twice-over. I saw where she was looking.

I look a hit off the vape and blew a big cloud of smoke in her face. “Buzz off.”

“Well, I never!” she said as she stiffened. She lifted her chin (not before she checked out my package again), spun on her heel, and marched away.

I hit the vape again and staggered up to the house.

The front door opened just as I reached the top step of the porch. It was Biff. He was still in his tuxedo but was holding his jacket.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked.

“Putting your dad to bed.” He eyed me appraisingly, his eyes widening when he took in the bulge in my briefs. “And, from the looks of it, you need to be tucked in as well.”

I yelped as he stooped down and slung me over his shoulder. “Nice ass, Biff,” I said as I admired the view.

He patted mine in return. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

We climbed the stairs in silence and once we were in my room, he kicked the door shut and flopped me down on to my bed. He took my pants from me and tossed them over the back of my desk chair along with his jacket. Then he took my shoes and socks off.

“Is my dad wasted?”

“Are you wasted?”

I giggled. “Jack said I’m high.”

He put a finger under my chin and tilted my head up. “Yeah, you’re rolling, aren’t you? I’m going to get you some water.”

He grabbed the tumbler from my bedside table and filled it from the sink in the Jack-and-Jill bathroom Frank and I shared. “Drink this.”

I drank half and handed it back to him. He took a swig, then set it down.

“So, you and Jack, huh?”

“Jack? Oh, right. He wanted me to meet Molly but she didn’t show.“

“Oh, I think you’re intimately acquainted with Molly. And from what I saw, with Jack, too.”

“There was bubble gum!” I fished into the pocket of my tuxedo jacket and pulled out the vape pen. I took a hit from the pen and blew out smoke. I giggled. “See? Bubble gum!”

Biff took it from me and tried it. “Nice. You ever shotgun?”

I shook my head. “What’s that?”

“I’m gonna take a hit and then exhale into your mouth.”

I glanced at his lips. “Cool!”

“Open your mouth and get ready.”

I nodded. Biff put the pen to his lips, hit the button, and sucked in for a few seconds. He winked at me as he held it in. Then he leaned in close and exhaled the sweet smoke into my mouth.

I reached up and wrapped my arms and legs around him, pressing my lips to his, my hands running over his back and down to the waistband of his briefs. I could feel his erection rub against mine and my tongue frantically explored his mouth, jousting with his, tasting him. I pulled him closer and he lost his balance, tumbling onto the bed. “Dang, Joe,” he laughed as we both exhaled. “I think I lost a filling.”

“My turn,” I said. He held out the pen but instead of taking it, I just kissed him. He returned the kiss this time, taking charge and rolling me onto my back. When he broke this kiss, he swung a leg over my body and straddled me. I grinned up at him.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” he asked.

“I’m so horny,” I moaned, thrusting my hips up.

“You’re such a slut, Joe,” he whispered. “I like it.”

I giggled.

I was still wearing my tuxedo jacket and he checked the pockets. “Condoms, lube, and - holy shit, dude - poppers? Is this what you were doing with Jack?”

I blushed and nodded.

He slid his hand down my side, over the curve of my butt, and then slid a finger along my slicked-up crease. “You’re all prepared, aren’t you? A real Hardy Whore.”

“I’m so horny,” I said again.

“Well, let’s do something about that.” He helped me out of my jacket and shirt. Then he got off the bed, crossed the room to the door, and locked it. He turned back to me and stripped his shirt and t-shirt off. “Good thing your mom took a sleeping pill.”

He stood between my legs and opened his pants. He picked up the poppers, took a sniff, then put them under my nose. I grinned and inhaled deeply.

He pushed his pants down and kicked out of them. His briefs were bulging and he watched me lick my lips! He reached for the condoms and lube. I took another hit of poppers then scooted back and made room for him. He yanked my briefs off, flicked off the light, and got into bed next to me.

“Oh! OH! Oh, Biff!”

The End