Everyone in town knew the owner of Joe's Auto Shop was the rugged macho 6'2" stud with broad shoulders, a thin waist and a face like a New York model He was currently fucking Nurse Cindy. But no one knew how much Joe loved a young man's hole.
Aunt Cindy helped her nephew pack for his first sleepover. Pajamas, night meds, underwear, clean shirt for the tomorrow morning and she had freshly made brownies.
The call came on a Tuesday. Troy and I were going over some invoices in the office of the shop. The kind of call you know is coming for years, expecting it for months, but it still hits you like a physical blow. My mother.
After five days of fucking himself with the dildo that producer/director Reece Carlson gave him he was ready for the real thing. Jessie was both scared and excite.
roy took a step forward and I braced myself for what we had planned for. This was it. He had had enough. He was going to do it first. My heart thumped in my chest as I watched the scene unfold. “You got something to say, say it.” Troy’s voice was on edge, while he took a deep breath and focused his gaze on Big Ray.
My eyes, almost against my will, flicked to Troy. He was frozen, a fuel line in his hand, watching me. His face was a mask of careful neutrality, but his eyes were wide, screaming a silent warning. He gave a slow, almost imperceptible shake of his head. No. Not like this.
I was just starting to tune a carburetor, enjoying the memory of the morning escapade, when the bell on the door chimed. Again. I looked up, my heart for some reason stopping momentarily as if my mind was bracing for the return of the asshole coach to come back to test Ivan and me. But it wasn't him. It was her!
I paced. I made coffee and didn't drink it. I sat on the couch and stood right back up. Every creak of the house, every car that passed, made my heart lurch. Would he come? Or was this just the confirmation I expected, that Troy had already made his choice, and I was right?
My blood ran cold. That voice. I’d recognize it instantly anywhere. Smug, confident, laced with a fake, booming heartiness. It was a voice from a different life, from locker room showers and dark car interiors and motel rooms. I straightened up too fast, banging my head on the hood. "Coach Davis!" I said too loudly.
This was it. This was what I never knew I was missing, yet yearned for it. Not the sex, I mean I got enough of that when I wanted. But sex with Troy was different, beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. But it was this, the quiet aftermath, the not having to rush off, or hide, or feel any shame or regret.
“That’s just the beginning.” And then he was leading me by the hand, not toward the bedroom, but toward the couch. He sat down and pulled me down with him, until I was straddling his lap, his sweats still down around his knees, his big hands settling on my hips, holding me there.
I didn't wave or call out. Just stood there trying to calm my breath as I watched him get out of the truck. He was gorgeous, even after a long day of work with me. From a distance, I could see why so many fans called him the hottest quarterback ever. I understood the desire to just look at him and lust.
Follow up story to 'All my bullies' dads', it's not necessary to have red the first part, but it's highly recommended.
*****
It's been a bit less than ten years since Alex finished high school, and, for one reason or another, some of Alex's specific "attributes" keep getting the attention of somebody, or rather "somebodies", quiet unexpected.
In their stale, sweat-soaked house, 28-year-old grease-monkey Mike unleashes his pungent onion pits, cheesy unshowered balls, and ripe, funky asshole. His 20-year-old brother Alex—utterly obsessed—finally confesses his addiction to big bro’s foul manstink, diving face-first into taboo worship. Heavy incest kink, brutal verbal, and overwhelming BO m
He appeared in the doorway, wearing the grey pants I left for him, and I noticed right away his cock swinging free in the middle as leaned against the frame. His hair was a mess from our recent morning romp, his eyes still soft with sleep, the pants a big baggy on his muscular lean frame. But otherwise he looked absolutely stellar.
Those grey eyes never looked away, and the smile never stopped as he breached my still lubed ass. A big hand grabbed the back of my neck and he pulled me back towards him, not for a kiss, but to just rest his forehead to mine.
I knelt over him, the mattress dipping under my weight. I covered him with my body, my hands on either side of his head. I just looked, drinking in the reality of him. Troy Jenkins. In my bed at last. Naked. Hard. Panting.
He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, water dripping from both our faces, but it was me that went to my knees first. And holy God what a big thick dick. It was long, like a pole, hard and sticking straight up.
He licked his lips, his blue eyes raking over my chest when he made a sound. I looked down at my pecs, still impressive and hard, muscled from good genes and hard gym time. I made them flex, then dance and he let out a soft “Fuck me.” While my brain screamed I will, I managed to speak. “Your turn.”
I brought my hand up to his wrist at first, my fingers barely making it around the thickness of this man. But then my other hand removed itself from his chest and found his jaw, the stubble rough against my palm, showing him without words that I was here, that I wasn’t going anywhere as I tried to control my breathing and my pounding heart.
Now that we’re alone, it’s harder to avoid him. I keep my eyes on the torque converter. But I was feeling something, other than the need to fuck someone else, other than the tension between us. Something I needed to get off my chest. I needed to tell him, but what exactly I didn’t know.
Big Ray took the socket, his eyes meeting mine for a second. There was a flicker there. Something ambiguous. Maybe just friendly camaraderie. Maybe a hint of curiosity. With big, straight, married guys, you could never tell. It was all part of the frustrating, addictive game I found myself playing lately. It was all I knew.
Instead of wanting to go out and find relief with some random, I stayed at home and reached for myself, to satisfy my own needs while replaying images from the day about Troy Jenkins. Like the flex of his forearm when he tightened a bolt, or the way his coveralls fit across the width of his back when he leaned over an engine, or that ass.
I tore my eyes away from the Ivan-shaped distraction to see a beefy man with a permanent grease stain on his cheek and a toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth. The same married guy I blurted out to when I first walked into the garage. The big, solid just-my-type-married-man. Doug Smith, Smitty everyone called him.
He was… sunlight. Tall, lean, built like he still could throw a sixty-yard pass. He had one of those faces that belonged on a sports drink commercial, all short, cropped blonde and tanned, with a jawline that would rival any statue and lips that begged to be kissed.
The photos did not do him justice as the masculine married mechanic I had blurted out to pointed a thick finger sideways. Ivan Volkov was standing with his back to me, bent over the engine bay of a classic Chevy pickup before he heard me and turned, and my first, purely intellectual thought was: So that’s what a mountain looks like in coveralls.
Five 18-year olds role play scenarios where circumstances force non-consensual sex, including anal and oral sex, face/throat fucking, eating ass, and drinking piss. In one role play scenario, a gang leader in a prison has his way with a new inmate. In another, an auto mechanic agrees to accept sex as payment for repairing a car that broke down.
As I drive across the country for a much-needed vacation, I have car trouble. Fortunately, I see a full-service gas station just ahead. It was indeed a full-service station.