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The Good Old Boy

By: carsonshepherd



“Sean, let’s go out. I’ve got a babysitter tonight and Tom’s working late.”

“But Law&Order SVU’s on,” I protested, finishing my beer. The dark brown longneck bottle felt comforting in my hand.

“You really need to get out of that basement, baby. Come on, we haven’t been out once since you got home, you can’t sit around feeling sorry for yourself forever.”

“Oh yes, I can.”

For the first time in two years I was home, staying in my brother’s basement. My boyfriend of 5 years, Marcus, had just dumped me, right at the time the magazine I was working for went under. I thought life couldn’t get any worse until I slipped in the bathroom one night while I was drunk and broke my arm; there was only one thing a person in my state could do, and that was go whimpering home with my tail between my legs to try to recover something of my dignity and self-respect, or what little I had left from before I met Marcus.

“Besides, I don’t feel like going all the way over to the city tonight,” I whined. “I hate clubbing, Rachel.”

“Clubbing? There are no clubs around here, just bars, and that’s exactly what you need. Get your ass off that couch and take a shower. We’re not going to the city. I’m taking you out bar hopping tonight, and I don’t care if we do run into every redneck we went to high school with, you’re going to have fun if it kills you.”

I hung up the phone, dismayed. When Rachel got an idea into her head there was no stopping her. She was my awesome best friend since ninth grade, and the only person I still talked to from high school. While I lived in the city, seven hours away, we kept up a close e-mail friendship, but until I got here a week ago I’d never met her son or her boyfriend. She’d dropped out of college after a year just like me and also like me, she never got around to going back. She just wanted to party and have fun, she was planning on coming and living with me in the the city but she ended up getting pregnant and having a kid with this much older guy, Tom, who made a lot of money so she didn’t even have to work. Hell, I’d live with him too. When I dropped out of college I’d stayed in the city. I swore I’d never move back home. Funny how neither of our lives were what we expected when we graduated twelve years ago.

Three weeks from thirty. Jobless. Loveless. Arm in a cast. Staying in my brother’s basement, where I watched TV and drank beer all day. Not exactly what I had in mind when I went away to college with dreams of being a famous writer. When I landed the job at Shaft, the now-kaput magazine, and met Marcus, the bastard ex-boyfriend, I thought I’d really made it. As a teenager I used to sit in my room listening to the Cure with the shades drawn, dreaming of a hip city existence, lots of cool clubs filled with hot guys. 

Well, I had that, at least till I met Marcus; he wouldn’t let me go out partying with my friends. He wanted me home. And I worked long hours on the magazine, so that I barely remembered what the inside of a club looked like, or what people even did on weekends. Well, all that was gone now; and I missed the job, but I was glad Marcus was gone. I wasn’t dating anybody and didn’t want to date anybody; which was good, because there wasn’t anybody around here for me to date anyway.

I got up and took the shower like Rachel commanded. Upstairs, my brother was having his usual Friday night party before his kids came tomorrow, he was smoking weed and drinking with his friends, all guys I’d known since grade school. I used to hate them; they picked on me and called me weird, and I thought they were shit-kicking redneck assholes, in their camouflage hats and pickup trucks and mullet haircuts, the same ones they’d had in high school. Andrew’s wife Lindsey left him last year and had the kids during the week. I couldn’t blame her for divorcing him, really; he was a dick, but he was still my brother, and he was letting me stay here, drink his beer and smoke his weed. That was the common ground, after all these years. It was only once I started smoking weed in college that I actually starting having anything to do with my brother. Sure, he had his moments, but he was pretty cool, and now that we were all past the bullshit cliques of high school, I liked his friends too. After all I’d known them my whole life.

“Sean, I never knew you were so cool, man. I always thought of you as Andy’s freaky little brother,” someone said in a drunken haze the other night, while we were all watching Pink Floyd’s The Wall on Andy’s bigscreen TV, smoking the biggest doobie I’d ever seen.

Andrew played sports; I was more the creative type. While I went off to find myself, he re-opened our dad’s auto shop, which had been locked up since he died. Also, I’m gay and Andrew’s straight. Other than our new-found common love of smoking dope, the only thing we ever had common before was our ability to fix cars, passed down from our dad; but I didn’t want to stay in this town and work on cars. I wanted something more out of life. I’d wanted the kind of life where you took your car to an overpriced mechanic instead of lifting the hood yourself. Now I was out of work and I could help Andy around the garage with one arm in a cast, but I wasn’t a lot of good. 

Rachel showed up in the middle of our non-stop guy party. In high school none of these guys would’ve looked at her but now they were all flirting with her. She was a cute, petite redhead with big boobs, what was there not to like? But they all had kids and wives or girlfriends at home that they were miserable with already.

“You having a party, Andrew?” she asked my brother.

“Does Howdy Doody have a wooden dick?” He was leading all his friends in a toast with his beer raised. “To Lindsey. I’m so glad the bitch is gone.”

“Do they know you’re queer?” she was asking me as we got into her car. It was so dark out here in the country. I was so used to the ambient light pollution of the city I had forgotten how dark it was.

“Yeah, probably,” I shrugged. I didn’t bother to hide it but nobody ever said anything. 

“If they didn’t know before, they know now that they’ve seen you in that outfit.”

“You don’t like my outfit?” Except for the bulky fiberglass cast on my right arm 

I thought it looked pretty good. Boot cut cords, brown boots, a tight long sleeved shirt, a zip up black leather scuba jacket-- hey, I might be almost thirty, but I’m not dead.

“No, it’s great, baby. It’s just not what we’re used to around here,” she told me, but she was laughing when she said it. Nothing I’d ever worn was what they were used to around here; in school people made fun of my clothes. I was just light years ahead of the times twelve years ago, when I used to dye my naturally blonde hair black and let it fall into my face. Now all that vintage fashion we used to search the thrift stores for could be bought at your local Wal-Mart.

The black hair was gone. The punk rock, cooler-than-thou attitude was gone. All that teen angst, being an artsy gay guy in a redneck midwestern small town where people cruised on Friday nights in pickup trucks with mudflaps, none of it amounted to shit. Here I was back again and Rachel and I turned the radio up really loud and sang along with the Violent Femmes as we drove into town.

“There’s this new bar,” she was telling me. When she drove up I saw the Bud Light sign, the neon reading the name of the place: The Wild Goose Saloon.

“No,” I was shaking my head, laughing hysterically as she led me up to the door. Thank God I was half-stoned and had been drinking most of the afternoon already or I never would’ve believed I was going inside. Sober I probably wouldn’t have, but now it seemed hilariously funny. “Wild Goose Saloon. Hell no.”

Inside it was a far, far cry from the club scene with the overpriced drinks, the hipsters, the DJs spinning in their booths. No, this was a real redneck bar and it was fucking great. I loved the red vinyl barstools, the stuffed-and-mounted geese arranged to be flying on the walls. In the city it would’ve been really hip, really ironic, very kitschy, but this was the genuine article. There were quite a few people here sitting at the bar in their camouflage hats. While Rachel got long-necks of Bud Light I browsed the jukebox, feeding it dollar bills. Bob Seger, Hanks Williams Jr, the Charlie Daniels Band, the Rolling Stones, co-existing with Garth Brooks and some of those other crappy so-called country acts. 

“Well, looky who’s here.” I’d cruised the bar while I went over to the table where Rach was waiting. She hadn’t seen yet, but when I pointed, she went pale. Her ex-boyfriend was here, the one she was fucking when she met Tom, and even beyond. His name was Ryan. I’d freaked out when she told me she was dating someone from high school, but he actually was pretty cute in a redneck kind of way. He was sitting at the bar with Nick Innis, another guy I knew from all the way back to grade school; they all three used to hang out together when she and Ryan were dating and actually, Nick was a cousin of mine somehow and Andy and I went to school with him and his three brothers. 

“Oh, shit,” Rachel muttered, because Nick just saw her, and he was coming over here and flopping down in a chair at our table with his can of Budweiser. Man, he was drunk. The weird thing was, he looked exactly the same, and so did Ryan; I mean, they looked older, but despite the long hair and the scruffy goatee, Nick had the same cute freckled face I remembered from kindergarten, when he was a grown-up third-grader. He was tall and lean, muscular with the kind of wiry, boyish body that really turned me on. Tight jeans, Hanes one-pocket t-shirt. He was hot. For a good old boy. 

“You don’t know me, do you Nick,” I said while he chatted up Rachel. Ryan was over at the bar pretending he hadn’t seen her. Turning, Nick stared at me for a long time, his eyes blank. He looked the same, but I looked really different, and it had been a long time. It took him awhile, but he got it.

“Oh shit. Jimmy O’Brien.”

God, he called me Jimmy! Jim was my dad, I’d been going by my middle name, Sean, since about the fifth grade. Hearing that name on his lips gave me this sudden tingly feeling. His eyes… He had the most incredible eyes, a light green, brilliant, even through the drunken fuzz, not quite focusing on me, smiling. His lips were poutier than they had any right to be, sexy. I shouldn’t have been looking, but I was. Didn’t hurt to look.

“How’s Ryan?” Rachel was asking him in a low voice.

“Ryan, come’ere,” Nick hollered; Ryan looked up but he wasn’t coming over here. I knew everything that had gone on with them, I knew Rachel still had a thing for him. I also knew Tom worked twelve and thirteen hours a day, and when he got home he usually went straight to bed instead of satisfying his woman. Also, he had a small dick.

“Do you need me to kick his ass?” I asked. “’Cause I will.” And I erupted in laughter at the thought that I could kick anyone’s ass, me. Ryan did come over to the table and we all proceeded to catch up on old times and get really wasted. Ryan didn’t know me either at first. Twelve years was a long time. We all had a few wrinkles around our eyes these days, except maybe Rachel; and maybe hers were hidden under her makeup. It had been a long time since I’d let loose and felt this good, this free. Marcus was such an asshole. Andrew and I had something else in common now- I was also so glad my bitch of an ex was gone. Nobody to get home to before a certain time, no cell phone ringing, checking up on me. I drank way more than I needed to, but by the time the bar shut down at 2 o’clock and the bartender made us leave, I was still not nearly as drunk as Nick and Ryan.

“Sean.” Rachel pulled me aside with her eyes serious. “Listen, my babysitter is staying the night and…” She was trying to be kind of subtle, but I knew exactly what she was getting at.

“I don’t owe Tom shit,” I told her. “Tom can take his fucking chances as far as I’m concerned.”

“Baby, you’re the best.”

It was only after she’d driven off with Ryan in the car with her that I remembered she was my only ride; and there were no cabs, no L train to catch home. No, I was out where the buses don’t run, and not just in the figurative sense.

“Shit. I don’t have a way home.”

Nick turned and gave me that unconsciously sexy smile. “Hey, you can crash at my place.”

“Oh… okay….”

“No, really, I have my own place, and my brother gave me his old couch, it’s really nice. I was living with my old lady but we broke up and now I have this trailer, right down the street from the school. Remember where that is?”

Like I could forget the grade school we went to. I took the keys out of his hand as he swayed back and forth. “Yeah, why don’t you let me drive.”

It had been a long time since I’d driven a pickup; and maybe I was drunker than I thought because I was so busy looking around for the town’s one police car that I was driving about twenty miles an hour and Nick told me, “I could drive better than this.”

He was telling me about his ex-wife and their two kids. Jesus, he had kids. Everybody had kids. He’d gotten into an accident in this truck and now the driver’s side door didn’t open from the inside, he said, but when I drove up in front of his trailer I forgot to roll down the window so I could stick my arm out and reach the handle outside.

“Shit. Fuck.”

“That’s okay, I’ll get it,” he said.

When he went around to the driver’s side and opened it so I could get out, I must admit: I felt a little flutter. Stupid, stupid. He’s straight, idiot. He has kids. He was a shit-kicking redneck from my hometown. He was my fucking cousin!

A really, really distant cousin, a little voice whispered to me.

In all my life I’ve never seen a cleaner, neater apartment. Trailer rather. I mean it was hard to believe a single guy lived here-- my place in the city was a complete mess, unless Marcus started bitching and made me clean up. Where on earth did he put his mail and his newspapers and his shoes? I found myself wondering as he was getting beer out of the refrigerator. Not even a dirty plate in the sink. Pictures of his kids lined the wall above the couch where I sat down. They were cute and freckled like their father, with pretty lips.

“If you pull the lever, it lays back,” he said about the couch. I did what he said, relaxing. It was a nice couch. He sat down at the other end and flipped on the TV, channel surfing; he stopped on a channel and it took me a minute or two of staring at the screen to realize it was a softcore porn station, and a girl was giving a guy a blowjob in a bubble bath. The girl was nasty and slutty-looking but the guy was buff and young and pretty cute. How interesting, that he’d tuned in to this particular viewing material.

“So exactly how are we related anyway?” I asked him.

“Uhh… I don’t know,” he mumbled, and I was too drunk to remember myself.

“So what happened with you and this chick you were living with?”

Nick wouldn’t tell me who the girl was, which told me I knew her, but I was actually kind of shocked by what he was telling me. It seemed that they had made kind of a deal: she would bring home another guy, or guys, for her to have sex with while he watched, and maybe joined in. In return she was supposed to also bring home a girl for him to have sex with while she watched and maybe joined in. Well… This nameless girl brought home another guy, he wouldn’t tell me who. They fucked. Nick watched. He joined in.

“Did you--”

“It was exciting,” he said. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he said this. Maybe I was imagining it, I told myself. “I really liked it, it made me really hot. But when it came time for her to bring another girl home she wouldn’t do it, but she wanted to bring home another guy again for her.”

“I see. It was all about her. Typical woman.”

“Tell me about it. But I love the touch of a woman’s hand. I’m thirty three years old and now I’m really lonely. I love sex, but I have really bad luck with women.” He was really drunk now and he kept saying, “I’m thirty-three years old.” Slipping down, he grinned up at me, eyes glassy. “What about you?”

I smiled deep into his eyes, my chin propped up on my hand across the back of the couch. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but I didn’t have anything to lose at this point. “Who me? I’m gay.”

“Oh really?” he asked. His reaction wasn’t quite what I expected. He seemed… dare I say curious? “I don’t have a problem with it. Are you, like, dating somebody?”

“No.” I shook my head, still smiling at him.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” I asked. I was just fascinated, wondering if he’d really say it.

“You know. Being with a guy. I mean… when I joined in that time, I didn’t do anything with him. I wondered what it would be like though. Seriously. How is it?”

“Oh, it’s good,” I answered casually. The way we were talking… his closeness, his green eyes, his pouty lips, they were all giving me a hard on. I guess I never thought about these kind of sexual hijinks going on in my own hometown. I pictured good-old-boy fucking in the missionary position, not hot bi group action. 

“Different than with a chick?”

“Oh yes.” I swallowed. “It’s… ah, rougher. Not… all squishy.”

He started laughing hysterically when I said the word squishy. He was really, really drunk, and I was getting really, really horny. I had to cross my legs to prevent my erection from showing through the crotch of my pants. I didn’t want him to see it but I knew he did, I saw his eyes flicking downward.

Thoughts were spinning through my brain with the speed of a tornado. All the lights were green, telling me to go for it, but what if I was wrong? There was a chance I was misreading the look in his eyes, the way he was relaxed against the back of the couch, his lean body welcoming. Should I just ask him? I thought, starting to panic. If I just made a move on him and I was wrong, he might kick my ass.

“Nick, if you, ah…. You know, I could…”

He never said yes. He never said no. He just kind of turned to face me and looked at me with his big green eyes, and when I looked in them I saw complete, utter trust. He did want me to show him, at least a little. Hell, he was probably so drunk he’d never remember it. 

As soon as I touched him I felt this intense familiarity. Maybe it was because we used to sometimes play together when we were very little, when my mom would visit his grandma, who we called Aunt Mary even though she wasn’t our aunt, but some kind of cousin. He was family. But there was nothing brotherly in the way I felt when I reached out and let my hand skim over his rough, stubbly cheek. Time and alcohol had marked his third-grade baby face. My left hand ran up his thigh while the other one, the one with the cast, rested on the back of the couch and I knotted my fingers in his long tangled auburn hair. Oh God, oh god. My fingers brushed his cock; I could see the outline of it though his jeans, hard, straining at the zipper. I grinned at him as I expertly flicked the button of his faded blue Levi’s.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear at all. Kicking the recliner down, I slid down to my knees in front of him; I grabbed him by the belt loops and pulled his hips forward to the very edge of the couch. He was still looking at me with that intense, trusting look on his freckled sweet-lipped face. I wanted to kiss those lips but knew that was the last place I should go. Instead I reached up and pulled his shirt over his smooth chest. He lifted his arms as I pulled the shirt over his head. God, I loved that-- it really got me, the unconscious sexiness of that moment when I pulled someone’s shirt off. I peeled off my own shirt and wadded them both up in a heap on the immaculate green couch.

I slid my hands over his smooth chest, his wiry pecs and peach nipples, the lean six-pack abs he got from doing whatever manual labor he did, concrete or something. A thin, unbelievably sexy line of auburn hair ran down his stomach, and I could see the head of his cock peeking though the open zipper, resting lovingly against his stomach. His hands were kind of loosely resting on the couch, but when I yanked his jeans down, they went lightly to my shoulders and rested there. 


The Good Old Boy Ch. 02



O’Brien & Son Auto Body was out behind my brother’s house. Andrew and I grew up in there, learning to fix cars with our dad, who was the best mechanic in a two hundred miles radius. People waited weeks to get their cars back from our dad; cars lined up in our yard like it was a parking lot. I’d been away for a long time, writing instead of working on cars; I hadn’t lifted a hood in probably six years, but it only took me setting foot inside the garage to love it all over again. I loved the smell: crank case oil, burned rubber, corrosion, dirt from the floor. I loved the memories, I loved the old advertising signs, the 1960’s packages of spark plugs hanging on hooks, covered in dirt. Most of all I loved The Car: under a tarp, passed down from father to son, the 1966 Shelby Mustang 350 GT. It had the original paint job, black with white stripes, but it was old and rusted out from neglect. Our dad had started restoring it in 1988, when he found it junked in a salvage yard; he never got around to finishing it before he died, and now Andrew was working on it in his spare time.

Lifting the tarp, I ran my hand over it. A classic beauty fallen on hard times. My right arm was in a cast; the fingers of my good hand found the hood latch. I opened it and looked into its beautiful grease-blackened innards. Then I heard a car pull up outside in the gravel drive. It was Saturday and Andy had taken his kids on an outing to a classic car show about two hours away, at the state fairgrounds; I was invited but I was too hungover from last night’s shenanigans. Couldn’t be a customer, they knew the garage was closed on weekends. Looking up, I saw the door open and in walked my cousin Nick Innis. We’d passed out on the living room floor and he’d dropped me off early this morning without saying much of anything.

“Hey Jim,” he said casually. I’d stopped going by my real first name, but he still thought of me that way, instead of as Sean.

I straightened, my pulse speeding up. He was wearing tight jeans, a thin t-shirt that showed his incredible shoulders under a quilt-lined flannel shirt, pointed cowboy boots. Hair long in the back, shorter in the front. He definitely wasn’t wearing underwear. The hottest redneck I’d ever laid eyes on. I started to get a hard-on as last night flashed through my head, his cock buried in my throat as I pulled his hips forward. 

“Uh… hey Nick.”

This morning, once I was sober enough to think straight, I remembered how we were related: on my mom’s side, his grandma and my grandfather were first cousins. That made us third cousins. A little kinky, but… not really incest, right? Still legal. My dick was kicking against my jeans so hard, I had to press my hips against the fender of the Mustang.

“What’s up?” I asked.

He cracked a grin for a split-second, his eyes dipping down to my crotch, but otherwise, he was playing it completely cool, just dropping in on his cousin. “Just wanted to see if you had a few minutes to work on that door. Last night you said you’d fix it.”

“Oh… yeah, sure,” I said, pretending like I was just remembering having said that. Shit, if he remembered that part, I knew damn well he remembered everything else that happened. I held up my cast. “You’ll have to help me though. Drive it up and I’ll open the door.”

He walked outside, leaving me to watch his ass in his tight jeans. I didn’t want him to see the lump in my pants, so I tried to think unsexy thoughts while I held the button down to open the garage door, but I wasn’t very successful at it. All I could think about were his eyes rolling back in his head while he came, clutching at my shoulders, shuddering uncontrollably; his come sliding over my dick while I jerked off in front of him. Well, so much for unsexy thoughts. I faced the wall, closing the garage door, as he got out of the big red Dodge-- cowboy boots first followed by legs in those tight good old boy jeans. 

Nick had flipped on his stereo to a country station and the strains of Toby Keith filled the garage as he leaned his back against the side of the truck next to where I was crouching, working on the door. It didn’t take long for me to get the inner panel off; that was something I could do one-handed. I was finding there were a lot of things a person could do one-handed… 

“Well?” he asked.

“How’d you do this?” 

“I was drunk,” he began; in this town, all stories began with those three words. I interrupted, laughing.

“Yeah, kinda like how I broke my arm. I can fix it, but I need to order a part.” Quickly I put the door panel back on, holding it with my shoulder while I tightened the screws awkwardly with my left hand. 

“Typical mechanic. They never have the right fucking parts.” He took a step toward me as I stood up and a wicked grin spread over his freckled face-- the same grin he used to get when he picked on me in elementary school. “So, how much do you charge for labor?”

“I’ll take it out in trade,” I suggested as he reached out and caught my shoulders in his hands. He was sober now, so it wasn’t just the liquor last night, I realized as my eyes slid down to the front of his jeans. That beautiful redneck cock of his, long and slender and straight as an arrow, bounded into my hand, twitching eagerly as I stroked it lightly. I looked up at his eyes, but they were closed, not watching me the way he did last night on his couch. 

“Look at me, Nick.”

Opening his green eyes, he gave me a cocky grin while I went back down to my knees, taking his jeans with me in handfuls. I gripped his ass in my good hand, the cast braced against the fender of his truck. Such a pretty tight ass, I wondered vaguely if I’d ever get a crack at it. These straight boys didn’t mind blow jobs, but fucking was a whole different ball game. 

My nose brushed his thick auburn pubic hair while I slid my hand up over his lean abs. The head of his cock looked like a perfect little heart. “What seems to be the problem here?” I asked professionally. 

“I just brought it in for a tune-up.” 

He gave me that cocky smile again and I went all gooey, both in my stomach and in my underwear. It was like a game for him-- playing doctor or something. 

“No problem, but that music has to go.”

Nick reached inside the cab and turned the radio off, and then I licked the head of his cock. He threw his head back, holding onto both my shoulders while I wrapped my tongue around that gorgeous dick of his, cupping his balls. The whole situation made me so hot. If I had another good hand, I’d be using it on myself, but I couldn’t masturbate with this fucking cast; I knew, because I’d tried, so I was forced to hold off on getting myself off. Instead I concentrated on him, on the sounds he made, the way he bucked against my face, the way he laughed with his head thrown back in total pleasure, without one drop of guilt or doubt. He had no puritanical morals, no inner shame to hold him back. He lived completely for the moment, whatever pleasure he could get.


“Oh Jimmy.” His voice was low, intense. I felt his cock give a little jerk in my mouth, I knew he was there, and this time I didn’t pull away, this time I let him spurt in my mouth over and over, and then I swallowed it all, thick and salty. He grinned at me as I stood up, rubbing my own throbbing prick through my jeans; I stared into his eyes, telling him without words it was time for him to return the favor.

He zipped his pants; he glanced at his watch and made a face.

“Shit, Jimmy. I gotta go. The ex gets pissed if I’m late picking up the kids. Come down to the Goose this weekend, I‘ll probably be there.”

My mouth dropped open stupidly; my mind was so clouded with lust I couldn’t think of anything to say as he hit the door button, got into his truck and drove off, leaving me behind, hard and aching, all dressed up with no place to go. 

“I can’t fucking believe him.”

I was pissed, but I couldn’t stay mad, not at my cousin Nick. Instead I laughed, shaking my head. He might be playing with me now, but I made up my mind then and there, I was getting a piece of that straight-boy ass if it killed me. 

In the meantime, there was the matter of my desperately aching erection to take care of. Well, I was no beginner at self-gratification, even left-handed. After I closed the garage door, I wandered over to the Mustang. A sexy car like that deserved a little action. Probably it got plenty of action in its heyday back in the late sixties; I pictured two hot young studs humping in the back seat, steaming up the windows with the sweat from their bodies. While I fantasized, adding more and more hot details, I slowly touched myself, building up anticipation, my broken arm braced on the Mustang’s roof.

My eyes were closed; my back was to the door. So I did not hear any footsteps walking up to the side door, I only heard the door open and I froze, my entire body turning to lead. Caught with my hand down my pants, masturbating, by my brother Andrew’s good friend Louis Welch, whom I had known since junior high, when he used to come over and spend the night with my older brother. 

“Oh, shit, sorry dude.”

Louis was grinning. Uncomfortably I pulled my hand out of the waistband of my jeans and ducked behind the car to block his view of my crotch, feeling my cock wilt a little. I expected him to leave quickly, but he didn’t. Instead he ambled slowly over toward the car, looking it over. Louis was a pretty cool guy. Of all Andy’s friends, Louis was the only one who ever nice to me. He had a long, scruffy ponytail and a sparse beard, brown eyes, tall. I remembered one time in high school, all Andy’s friends were going to a party and he offered me some weed and told me to come with them. But I refused and slammed my bedroom door in disgust. But once, when I was in college, I came home for a visit and when I was admiring Louis’ new Harley, he offered to take me for a ride; and I suddenly remembered being on the back of his motorcyle with the wind in my face, his ponytail blowing, my hands on his shoulders. While he steered the bike he casually let his elbows rest back on my knees. I just assumed it was for convenience at the time, but it was kind of erotic in my memory.

“It is an awesome car, but I don’t know if it’s enough to get me that hot,” Louis smirked at me; I kind of gave a sickly grin in return, wishing he’d leave.

But no. He opened up the passenger side door and actually got into the car, on the opposite side from where I was standing, my cock still aching in disappointment. 

“Does it start?”

I sighed in resignation; I was not going to have the blazing self-induced orgasm I so badly needed right now after all. “Um, I don’t know.” I went over to the nail where the Shelby’s keys hung; I got in on the driver’s side and put them in the ignition. To both of our surprise it started up, not exactly with the purr of a kitten, but after a cough or two, it did crank, filling the garage with its sound. In all these years I’d never heard it start and I just sat there, listening, wishing my dad was there to hear it running. He never seemed to have time to work on it…

Next to me, in the passenger seat, Louis reached over and turned on the radio. Now car stereos are all digital, but this was original to the car with a genuine dial and big black knobs, like the cars of my childhood. Carefully he tuned it, and a few minutes later we were actually getting a station: KSHE 95 Real Rock Radio, the world famous classic rock station. The song was “Lola” by the Kinks, staticky but distinct, a little tinny on the old speakers. I turned off the engine, leaving the radio playing. Louis looked up at me and smiled in delight, and while we sat there listening to it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pipe and started packing it with pot from a baggie.

“Me and Andrew and your dad used to sit out here and smoke weed. Did you know that?”

I shook my head, taking a long hit off the pipe when he handed it to me. “I remember my dad smoking pot when I was little with his friends, but I didn’t know he did it when I was older.”

“You didn’t get to know your dad real well, did you Sean.”

“No. I thought there’d be time…” Suddenly my eyes filled with tears. The garage, the car, the music; I missed my dad so much, I couldn’t stand it. I almost expected to look up and see him walking through the door. Louis reached over and put his hand on my shoulder.

“He was a cool guy, your dad. You miss him, that’s why you’ve stayed away so long, but you can’t run away from that part of your life.”

“Yeah.” Tears trickled down my cheeks, but I was shocked at such understanding from somebody I’d always considered a wanna-be hippie loser. 

“You’re a cool guy too, Sean,” he smiled. Wiping my eyes on my sleeve, I looked up at Louis’ warm brown eyes; and I’ll never know who reached for who, but all the sudden we were turned in the bucket seats, kissing. It was electrifying, but it wasn’t like kissing a stranger; I felt so comfortable, but at the same time, really surprised and turned on. When his tongue slid into my mouth, I welcomed it, met it with mine.

“Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any kids?”

“Nope.” He grinned.

“What about an ex-wife?”

“Huh-uh.”

Grinning, I closed my eyes and lost myself in his kiss, but soon it got really uncomfortable, trying to reach each other over the gearshift, wedging our knees under the parking brake while his hand slid under my shirt. The radio played Bachman Turner Overdrive while he unbuttoned my jeans, giving my reviving erection room to grow. Eventually, he grinned and motioned with his head to the back seat. Sure, we could’ve gone into the house, but that just wouldn’t be as fun. We scrambled over the seats, stripping off jackets and flannel shirts, laughing like kids, falling in a heap in the tiny, cramped back seat. I knew what was on Louis’ mind-- the lump in his pants made it obvious-- but instead of moving it to the next level we found ourselves kissing and cuddling like two high schoolers on a car date, jammed side by side in the backseat. Finally I couldn’t keep from asking.

“Louis… listen, you don’t have to answer, but what’s all this about?”

He was quiet for a long time. “This is something I’ve needed to do for a long time,” he finally answered softly. “But I never had the opportunity, and then you came home…”

Holy shit. I should have come home years ago, because I was getting more dick in the last twenty-four hours than I’d gotten in the last six months of being with Marcus, and it was all Grade-A, all-American hot straight-boy action, with two guys I’d known forever without ever guessing they might be hiding a little secret. This romantic little backseat romp was cute, but it was obvious to me that Louis was waiting for me to make the next move, and my cock was ready for its reward at last.

“I’ll make sure you get what you need,” I growled in his ear.

His arms, wrapped loosely around my neck, got suddenly tighter as my hands slid around and unbuttoned his jeans; his cock sprang free because he didn’t have on any underwear. Did every boy in my hometown freeball it? There wasn’t room to lie back, so I straddled his lap while I pulled my shirt off, my knees on either side on his hips. His eyes blazed up at me. He lifted his hands and ran them over my smooth chest, not bodybuilder material, but I hadn’t let myself go completely since getting dumped. We were both a little stoned and we started giggling, but Louis was breathing hard and fast, and I could feel a thin film of sweat break out all over his body. His flesh was so hot, he was literally burning me. 

I didn’t ask him if he was sure. I didn’t ask him what he wanted. There was no need to speak at all. His eyes told me everything I needed to know. It excited me beyond belief just knowing that I was his first, that he’d never touched a man the way he was touching me. His lips, his teeth, his tongue moved up my chest, up to my nipples, biting on them, and I let out a groan while I held his head, cradling him against me. I rose up on my knees, bracing my hands against his shoulders, and he grabbed my open jeans at the waist, but his hands were shaking so badly, he couldn’t get my jeans and boxers down over my hips. Gently I pushed his hands away and pulled them down myself, smiling down at him, watching his face turn red and his eyes glaze over as he stared at my erection, naked, inches from his face. He seemed hypnotized by it.

I didn’t pressure him. This was an intense moment for him, taking that plunge. I remembered what it was like-- almost scary, because you know how much you’re going to like it. You know you’re never going to be the same again. He needed it, he wanted it. So did I. But I didn’t expect it to feel this good. When his tongue flicked over the head of my cock and down to the base like an expert, I swear I almost came right then and there.

“Oh my GOD, Louis.” I had to grab the back of the seat, steadying myself with my one good arm as my knees buckled. “Where did you learn to do THAT?”

“I didn’t, it just… came to me.” He laughed at my reaction, and after that he seemed to lose his doubts and completely embrace the experience. He kept up his teasing, just using his tongue, never really completely taking it in his mouth, torturing me. I writhed like I was on the rack, making little whimpering sounds. In my thrashing I accidentally shifted my weight to my broken arm and the pain that shot through to my sex-dulled brain made me lose my balance and pitch forward, and that caused my cock to leap forward all the way to the back of Louis’ throat.

“Oh shit--”

I started to pull back, thinking he was going to choke on it, but he didn’t. For a second his eyes widened in surprise at having me there and then he closed his eyes when he discovered that this was where it belonged, deep and hard, buried. His hands grabbed my hips and started moving me hard and fast. My mind went blank; I was twisting in a thundering tide, rushing forward, crashing to ecstacy like waves on the beach.

“Stop.” 

With superhuman effort I pulled back, withdrawing from his hot mouth, wet and slick with my juices. I touched his face with my shaking hand. My heart was pounding so hard I heard it in my ears like a drum; and there was something else there when I looked down into his eyes. This started out as just a little fun, but now I was having all these feelings, feelings I thought were dead inside me. For once, this wasn’t all about Sean getting off. I wanted to share myself with him. I wanted to give him a gift, make his first time really memorable. 

“Louis. I never do this but… fuck me.”

He stared up at me blankly. Then the light flipped on and he grinned. There was a time for conversation and there was a time when actions spoke louder than words; knowing this was one of those times, we kind of shifted around to find a good position, giggling because there really wasn’t one. There wasn’t any room to take our pants off so we just had to push them down and kind of hobble around on our knees in the tight confines of the back seat. We were both stoned, just as high on each other as we were on Louis’ fine weed. He gently pushed me against the back of the seat, on my knees facing away from him, and his hands started going over my ass cheeks, stroking them. 

I was expecting him to hesitate, maybe to fumble a little, the way I did the first time I did it, but Louis was absolutely full of surprises, especially for someone who’d been straight until about an hour ago. He did what I never thought he’d do. His palms gently spread my butt cheeks and before I knew what was happening his tongue was running up and down my crack. 

It was almost more than I could take, but my brain shut off and my body took over, letting him go where very few people ever went, and I loved it. My ass was his and he seemed to know exactly what to do; I wasn’t used to anything more than a finger but he used his tongue so well there wasn’t a bit of pain when he slid into me. I let out a cry of mingled shock and welcome as he froze, waiting for me to loosen up and take him. 




The Good Old Boy Ch. 02



Oh my God. I was so full. I reached back and touched him desperately. I was completely possessed by him, I’d never felt so owned, so filled up by someone. 

Slowly Louis began to move; his cock slid up inside me and when it hit that spot, I went completely out of my head. I threw myself backwards against his chest, burying him up to the hilt, we were both on our knees with our pants down and I was riding him, bucking against him, whimpering, while his arms held me, tightening. There was a low muffled crack as my cast hit the back window and a tiny spiderweb of shattered glass spread through it. I saw it and I heard it but I didn’t care, not now.

“Oh my God, yes.” The pleasure was almost too much for me, I was laughing hysterically, babbling. All that stupid porno talk was flowing out of my mouth without stopping to check with my brain first. “Oh Louis, fuck me. That’s IT, ride me. Yes, yes, Oh my fucking God…”

The orgasm was so powerful, I was on a different planet, shooting through space, dizzy. As I reeled, Louis came inside me, letting out a low, soft moan in his throat that sent shivers into the very deepest part of me. There was nowhere in me that he could not see, that he could not possess. I swear to God I thought I was falling in love with him. As he slid down and collapsed, I took a deep breath and looked down at him. Our eyes met and we both starting laughing like two maniacs. After we used my shirt to wipe up, I fell down on top of him and we kissed wildly, giddy in the cramped back seat. 

“Louis Welch,” I said his name in amazement, staring into his brown eyes. He’d been on the outskirts of my life for so long as a friend of my brother’s, a familiar presence, but I never really knew him. If only I had…

“Sean O’Brien.” What a smile he had-- beautiful, reaching his soul.

“How much do you think back windows cost on a 1966 Mustang?”



The Good Old Boy Ch. 03



Sometimes it's been so long since you've felt good, you can't even remember what it was like. I didn't know when I started feeling this bad, but it must've happened a long time ago, when I wasn't paying attention, mired deep in a bad relationship in a city seven hours away from my small-town home. I didn't even know how miserable I'd actually been until this moment, when Louis Welch and I were holding each other in the back seat of my dad's old Shelby 500 GT that had been sitting under a tarp in the garage for almost 20 years, after mind-blowing, surprising sex that came from nowhere and just exploded between us. 

For a long time we said nothing. I just lay there with my cheek on his chest, my hand on his bicep, thinking how good I felt. I thought I was miserable about getting dumped and losing my job and having to move home to my brother's basement, but actually I wasn't miserable at all. There was nothing complicated about it: I was happy. In just about an hour Louis Welch had turned everything that had been happening in my life from bad to good. If I hadn't lost my job, if that dick Marc hadn't kicked me out, I never would have come home. I never would have turned to Louis and kissed him in my brother's auto shop and it never would have led to this.

All these years I'd known Louis, since the sixth grade, when he started coming over to our house to spend the night with my brother Andy. We'd eat cereal and watch Saturday morning wrestling on the living room floor. Andy was the popular one, always surrounded by crowds of friends, and I was weird little brother everybody picked on. Only Louis was ever nice to me. I angled my head up from his chest and looked up at him amazement; I couldn't believe what had just happened between us. Louis Welch, after all this time, I didn't really know him at all.

He noticed me looking at him and smiled, pushing back his long, wavy brown hair, falling out of its ponytail in the aftermath of our wild, hot sex. God, he was so cute. "It's getting cold in here."

"Yeah." The sweat was drying on our skin and I pulled up my pants and zipped them. "Want to go in the house?"

"Where's Andy?" he hesitated.

"Took the kids to a classic car show at the state fairgrounds. They won't be back until tomorrow." I grinned as his face lit up, realizing what this meant. We had the whole house to ourselves all night. "You hungry?"

"Hell yes." We were both a little stoned and I had the major munchies. We giggled like kids as we pulled on our jackets and gathered up our come-stained t-shirts we'd used to wipe up the back seat; but there was nothing we could do about the back windshield of the car that I'd cracked with the cast on my arm in a moment of passion. Andy was going to be pissed off and I'd have to pay for a new one, but right now it was hilarious.

"Shit, that was good weed, Louis," I said, stumbling a little, grinning like an idiot.

"I know," he answered smugly. We pulled the tarp back over the Mustang and locked the door behind us. While we were getting it on, the sky had turned black and rain slanted down in torrents. Before it started, Louis had walked down the gravel drive from the house instead of driving his car when he came down to the garage looking for me, so we were forced to make a mad dash through the cold rain, holding hands. When we got up to the door we were both soaked to the skin, our teeth chattering as we stripped off our dripping jackets and shoes in Andy's kitchen; despite the cold, we were making out. As we kissed I kept my eyes open. I wanted to see him. How could I never have seen before how sexy he was? Some of Andy's other friends were hot, I used to have a big crush on this guy Eric, but I'd never thought of Louis that way. Even with his long hair wet and matted down from the rain, and that scruffy little beard, he still had the same cute smile I remembered through the years. He always smiled at me, always asked me how I was doing. What might have happened if I'd noticed him years ago?

My hands slid over his cold, wet bare stomach down to his jeans, where my fingers worked the top button. "Let's get these wet clothes off before you catch your death."

"Yeah, I could really use a hot shower," he answered, and I backed off, a little hurt.

"Okay, I'll go find you some dry clothes."

"You're not going anywhere." Louis caught me and pulled me back to him. "I meant both of us, Sean."

"I can't take a shower. I can't get this cast wet," I reminded him.

"Don't worry about that. You go get some towels and some dry clothes and come back upstairs. Go," he smacked my butt and I went downstairs to my room to find us both some clothes. Louis was a little taller than me, but my clothes would fit him, so after digging t-shirts and track pants out of one of the piles I went back upstairs at a run.A few years ago Andy spent a lot of money remodeling the master bedroom, adding on a huge bathroom and walk-in closet to please his ex-wife, who wanted everything to be more and better than what Andy could afford. With Louis' help he'd installed a huge double Jacuzzi, surrounded in gorgeous tile, with a separate shower. Andy only took showers and the kids had a separate bathroom in the hallway when they came on weekends, so since the bitch left the tub was just sitting empty and unused, except as a hamper for Andy's dirty laundry. 

When I went through my brother's room I could hear the water running in the tub. Louis had cleared out all the dirty clothes and found some bubble bath under the sink that Lindsey had left behind, and he was sitting on the edge of the tub still in his wet jeans, lighting the dusty candles she'd put there that Andy never bothered to get rid of. Looking up, he smiled while I stood staring at what he'd done, touched.

"All this for me?" I whispered. Nobody had ever gone to any trouble like this for me before. It was so romantic, a funny feeling spread over me. Funny as in scary. Especially when I saw his brown eyes looking up at me, his long wet hair hanging free against his cheek, grinning, and my stomach dropped like on the sudden descent of a roller coaster.

"Get in."

There was no way to refuse such an offer. I shyly peeled off my wet jeans and slid into the big tub. The water was hot, warming up my cold feet, and the bubbles closed around my neck like pillowy clouds. There was more than enough room for two people; I watched Louis stand up to take off his pants. In the Mustang's tiny back seat, with my back to him-- getting fucked by him-- I really didn't have a chance to look him over. Naked and beautiful, with slender hips and belly, lean, not cut like my cousin Nick, with soft light brown hair skimming his chest and down over his stomach. Gorgeous cock, perfect, big enough to make my ass a little sore; but it was a good soreness, reminding me how he filled me up. He got in way at the other end of the tub and we faced each other, our outer thighs pressed together under the hot water, while the jets came on and swirled the hot water around us like a boiling cauldron, humming low and steady.

"That feels good." Closing his eyes, Louis sighed and sank back into the foam, his head tipping back against the tiles.

Questions raced through my brain, but they seemed lodged in my throat. Usually I talk and talk; I rarely ever shut up. But for the first time in my life I was speechless. I really liked Louis, more than I had liked anyone in a very long time. This terrified me. I had to be careful. I didn't want to get hurt, but I hadn't felt this way since.... Well, I didn't even like to remember that far back. Being with Louis wasn't like being with someone new, where you're constantly worrying about the impression you're making, and going through the tedious getting-to-know-you stage, "Hey, that's my favorite Chili Peppers album too," kind of shit. It felt like just catching up. He knew me, he knew my family as well as I did. He even knew my dad...

"So, did you come over here today to fuck me?" I finally said, going all the way to cynical, protecting myself. When I found myself caring, I got scared and I tried to push people away. I knew it. Maybe that was why I found myself in rotten relationships with people I didn't really love. I didn't love them so they couldn't hurt me. I was safe behind my impenetrable walls.

Louis laughed with his eyes closed. The way he looked, sexy and relaxed, made me start to get a hard-on again, even though I hadn't fully recovered from our passionate explosion in the back seat. I could fall for him, I realized with a sudden sick feeling. I'd known him practically my whole life; he was a part of my life already. It wouldn't take much for him to get into my heart, my soul.

"I came over here to smoke some weed with your brother; I didn't know he'd be out of town. But I saw he wasn't here so I found you playing with yourself. The rest is history."

Run, my every instinct told me. Run far, run fast. Around this time, I usually started acting like an asshole, doing something to screw things up and sabotage my chances with someone I actually might like. I don't know why I did it, but the story was always the same. However, I took a deep breath and tried to relax. I managed to remind myself how good I felt when I was with him, and I laughed slightly and let some of my fear slip away. My questions-- was he gay, was he just fucking around with my emotions-- weren't that important. I wasn't going to marry the guy. Why ask a lot of questions he might not be ready to answer? Louis didn't have to tear my walls down; he was already there, behind them, before they even existed. Why not, for once in my life, just enjoy the moment?

"Can you help me wash my hair?" I asked softly. "It's hard to do with one hand."

"Sure, come over here."

Under the billows of white foam I slid over to him, between his thighs, my back to his chest. The insides of his legs brushed my hips, enclosing me. My shoulders were tense as he turned the sprayer on; I closed my eyes and bit by bit I relaxed as the warm water flowed over my hair, down my face and my neck. Louis' hands were so soothing, lathering up my hair, rubbing my temples, that I found myself leaning back against his chest while he soaped me up with long, slow strokes, over my head and my neck. Under the water my left arm was draped over his thigh and my right one was carefully propped up on the edge of the tub. Never in my life had I felt so good... so at ease, so perfectly in tune with someone. This was something I'd always longed for but had always been afraid of, this closeness. Now that I tasted it for the first time, I was scared, but I stayed exactly where I was.

"Rinse."

His voice was in my ear, soft and simple. His hands, the way he touched me as he rinsed out all the soap, careful to keep it out of my eyes, melted me completely; I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. My head fell back onto his shoulder as his hands slid down over my chest. I could feel his prick hardening against my lower back, and even as I responded the same way, I didn't move. For once, I let go of my need to be in control. I just wanted to feel his touch.

Slowly, he soaped me up all over with a big sea sponge that was both soft and scratchy. I lay limp against his chest, sprawled out, eyes half closed while his fingers traced my skin, every inch of me, and his lips brushed the back of my neck and my shoulders, tongue swirling through the drops of water that clung to me from the sprayer. The back of my neck is a major erogenous zone for me and in an instant I went from relaxed and limp to electrified. Twisting my neck, I hungrily caught his mouth with mine and filled it with my tongue. A little moan came up in the back of my throat when I tasted his mouth, he tasted so good, I wanted to taste all of him.

"We really need to get out of this tub," Louis whispered, a millimeter away from my lips. "Before we slip and break your other arm."

I groaned. "Yeah, I wouldn't like to explain this to the rescue squad." Reluctantly, I pulled my body from its place between his thighs, where it felt so perfect. We dried each other off with towels and our tongues, steaming up the mirrors, till we were aching for each other. What was it about Louis? When we were together, when I was touching him and he was touching me, I totally lost my head; I didn't think about what I was saying or doing, I didn't censor anything. My need for him drove me to do and say things I never would have allowed myself to do with anyone else, I was always so worried about saying too much or looking foolish, but with Louis I was completely wild and abandoned and it scared the hell out of me, but it also thrilled me in a way I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

We groped each other urgently, moving together, our mouths locked. There was no time to go all the way downstairs to my room. My brother made his bed every morning, so I threw down a towel over his comforter and dropped to his bed, pulling Louis with me, above me so that his body pressed against mine, his hard cock throbbing against me. He grinned down at me, laughing while I pawed at him, biting on his neck.

"Your brother would shit if he knew."

"He never fucks anybody on this bed so somebody needs to."

Grabbing him, I locked my legs around his hips and pulled him down, kissing him desperately; but this time, Louis did not give in to my need for speed. He pulled back deliberately, gently pushing my arms down to my brother's mattress and holding them there, gazing down at me with his dark eyes, a little smile playing on his lips.

"Not so fast, Sean."

"God, I love it when you say my name..."

"Sean." He licked my nipples, torturously slow. He said my name again, and again while his tongue grazed my collarbone, down between my pecs, over my stomach and darted into my bellybutton, making me scream out. Always before I was quiet and collected in bed. One part of me always held back, watching myself with a critical eye, always staying in control. But not now. My control was in shreds and I almost sobbed as he swirled his tongue over my sensitive lower belly and into my blonde pubic hair. His breath was hot, whispering across the head of my cock.

"Louis, stop." I whimpered.

I caught his head in my hands before his flicking tongue found my balls. I couldn't stand it, it was just too intense. When I opened my eyes a peep I saw him looking up at me questioningly and I forced a smile to release some of the tension I felt. I was all ready to say something clever and witty, but the way he was looking up into my eyes, like he could see past them and into my soul where all my fear crowded, made my mouth go dry and I couldn't speak. Instead, Louis rose up above me and brought his lips down to mine and kissed me, slowly and tenderly. 

In that moment, that kiss, I was lost. My love was a little bottle inside me, and it broke and my insides were slowly filled with a liquid seeping through my veins, from the middle of my chest all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. It was too late to run. One moment I was teetering on the brink and the next I fell over the side, I fell completely and totally in love with Louis. I almost stopped breathing and I was scared to even look at him for fear he'd see it reflected in my eyes. 

I couldn't tell him how I felt, but I could show him. Gently I placed my hands on his chest and eased him off me, down to his back, his head on my brother's pillow. As I kissed my way down his stomach, teasing his nipples with my tongue, I closed my eyes and breathed in. Clean and soapy, sweet, punctuating the funky smell of my brother's room, incense and dope smoke and dirty clothes; Louis' hands were on my shoulders, then sliding up over my neck and through my damp hair in a gesture that seemed almost more intimate than what I was doing to him. My tongue circled the plump, juicy head of his prick and moved it forward, burying it. I felt him jerk and gasp in a little breath.

I knew what that little gasp meant; I remembered making that sound myself the first time a guy's mouth hot, wet closed around my cock, a sound of need, mixed with shock at the intensity of the pleasure. I couldn't help but smile as I slid my palm up over his stomach reassuringly. Back arched, head thrown back on the pillow, he clutched handfuls of the bedspread with his fingers. Tremors passed through him under my hands. Everything that had happened today was all new to him and that made me incredibly hot. I loved him, I wanted to share everything with him, I wanted to make him feel so good he couldn't stand it. 

It was different when you loved the person attached to the cock. I wanted to give him a blow job he'd never forget, and so instead of pushing it, trying to get it over with as soon as possible before my jaw started to hurt, I took my time. I let the head rest against the roof of my mouth like a big ripe plum while my tongue flicked over the thick rim and down the shaft. I loved that little flare around the head, that soft, soft velvety skin, his soapy scent, and the low, throaty growl he made while his hand came down and rested in my hair. He didn't hold my head to thrust deeper into my mouth; I hate that, it's so rude. No, Louis just gently ran his fingers through my hair, drying into a stringy blonde mess. With my right hand, the one in the cast, I reached up and touched his arm lovingly.

"Oh, Sean. Oh my God."

His whole body jerked when I pushed my tongue down into the slit at the tip of his cock. I could tell by the way his balls tightened he was about to come, so I eased off, letting him relax, catch his breath. Then I performed a little test that separated the men from the boys. It was a sure way to find out if I was dealing with someone who was only playing, or someone who really wanted it. I started to pick up the pace and the intensity of my thrusts, taking him deeper, and then I pulled back and let my hand take over while running my tongue down over his balls, under them, and into his butt crack. My tongue slicked back the little hairs until it found his tight, virgin asshole, so cute, so sexy, untouched till now.

"Oh God, Jesus Christ." Louis' whole body jumped. I pulled away a bit, smiling.

"No praying allowed." 

Now was the time for him to stop me, if he was going to. This was the point of no return, the line in the dust no straight man would step over. I even waited a second, giving him time to think it over. But he did not stop me; in fact he wriggled his hips forward, closer to me, lifting his leg slightly to allow me better access, and so eagerly I explored the pinkish, puckered little hole with my tongue, gently probing, while Louis lay against the bed frozen in pleasure, breathing in shallow, surprised gasps. The passage was tight, but not clenched. Gradually I felt it relax and I stiffened my tongue and ever so gently slid it past the ring of muscle and into his ass. Slowly I moved it in and out and as a deep shudder went through him and he let out a low, desperate moan in the back of his throat, just hearing it like that and feeling his excitement almost undid me.

The darting motion of my tongue was too much for him and he was getting close, too close; I wanted him to come, but not like this, it wasn't time. I stopped, pulling away.

"Hold that thought."

Leaving Louis naked and panting on my brother's bed, I jumped up and went for the bathroom, where I had strategically noticed earlier a little jar of Vaseline on one of the shelves. His eyes widened when he saw it, I know what he thought I was going to do with it, but that wasn't what I had in mind. Not now. I wanted to feel him inside me, to fill me up the way he did in the garage, fully and completely until I tasted him. It was something I never thought I'd want again, to be taken and claimed the way he possessed me. The past still hurt too much. But with him I wanted it, I wanted him to know all of me.




The Good Old Boy Ch. 03



My eyes met his and stayed locked there while I stroked him with the Vaseline. I wanted to remember this moment as perfect, only him, with nothing before it. I closed my mind against the memories the smell and the feel of the greasy Vaseline tried to choke inside me, a different face in a more innocent time. Being home had brought these memories to the forefront and I wanted to wash them away right now, and replace them with images of the gorgeous and shining present, and the sweet, generous man I was with now, so familiar to me that I didn't know at all. 

I lay down on my back with my eyes still on his and silently told him what to do. Rising up on his elbows, he lowered himself on me, still looking deep into my eyes, and he kissed me, his tongue gentle but demanding. Some guys won't kiss after the rimming action and the fact that he didn't care that I'd just tongue-fucked his ass was unbelievably sexy. My raging erection was trapped between our bellies and if he started to move, I knew I couldn't hold out long. But I didn't move to take things over; all I did was lie still and wait for him. What usually turned me on was to be in control of my sex partner; I could not bear to be passive or vulnerable. And yet for once, I was completely open and giving myself to Louis without hesistation, letting go of the role I usually played so well.

Our tongues played, our mouths locked; and when he slid into me with one long, smooth stroke, I tasted his moan and felt it shudder all through me. 

In the car, he fucked me hard, with no lubrication other than spit and the clear, slippery drops that shone on the head of his cock. The dull burn of being stretched was what I needed then, it drove me to a place I had forgotten existed, and I rode him, controlling his strokes. Now he was so slick, he could have pounded me into oblivion, but he didn't move at all. Completely still, buried in me, he looked down into my eyes with his long hair falling down around his shoulders and down into my face. I reached up and caught it gently around my fingers, stroking the side of his scruffy bearded jaw. We smiled at each other briefly as he slowly began to push into me.

I was a little numb from the hard fucking earlier and at first I didn't feel much other than his weight, I watched him flush as his eyes glazed over, felt the sweat break out over his body as I slid my hands up his back, feeling all the lean muscles flex under his smooth skin. He filled me completely, all the way to the top, and not just in a physical way; holding him in my arms like this, looking up into his face while we were as close as two people could ever get, filled me with this deep, incredible sense of completeness I'd never felt in my whole life. And while I experienced all these deep emotions, all the sudden his short, careful thrusts hit something deep inside me and pushed me straight to the edge like it was a fucking cliff.

"Oh my God," I breathed. My body froze and through glazed eyes I saw Louis grinning down at me, sweat glistening on his face while he fucked me. I loved him more than I could stand; I grabbed him and pulled him down so he was crushing me with his weight and I captured his mouth with mine, catching his lip with my teeth, filling him with my tongue the way he filled me. My body took over, thrusting forward, harder, pushing him; he went rigid in my arms and let out a low cry into my mouth, and I felt the eruption of his orgasm inside me, pulsing, once, twice, and then stopped, still hard in my tight hole.

Breath heaving, he lifted his head and looked down at me. Between our stomachs, my own aching cock was close to exploding. The friction and the thrusts were just enough to excite me beyond belief, but not enough to make me come, especially when I'd just shot in the back seat of the car less than an hour ago. I squirmed, whimpering with my need for satisfaction, and Louis pulled out of me suddenly, leaving me with a bereft emptiness I hadn't felt in many years, like he belonged there; he reached for my cock, but I stopped him without a word and took it in my own hand, and he watched up on one arm while I quickly and expertly got myself off in just two strokes.

"Oh." I let out a wild cry while the orgasm flooded through me, shooting off orange fireworks in my brain while I kept stroking, prolonging it as my come spurted out over my hand, onto my stomach, and pooled in the light blonde hair that trailed down my abs.

A second later, spent, I looked up at Louis and saw him smiling wickedly. He dipped his head down, to my disbelief, and licked the come off my stomach, his tongue swirling through the hair. It was absolutely the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life and I felt my insides contract like an electrical current was shooting through me; but I was too exhausted to get it up again for a second, or rather, a third round. I wasn't 18 anymore. Instead, I pulled him down and buried my tongue in his mouth, tasting my own salty-sweet essence.

After that we found ourselves holding each other seriously close; and there was a long silence that seemed to be building up to one of us saying something pretty intense. It was then in the silence that Louis' stomach let out a long, loud growl. We both cracked up, breaking the tension. I wiped up with the towel under us.

"Come on, let's eat."

Cooking was kind of my thing. I'd started cooking meals for Andy and Dad and me when I was about ten, and Andrew was more than happy to let me do all the cooking these days. After Louis and I cleaned up and got dressed, I cooked ham and cheese omelets, sausage, biscuits and gravy while we drank beer and talked. We knew each others' pasts well enough, but we weren't very caught up on what was going on in the present. 

"Still have your Harley?" I asked, nostalgically remembering his elbows on my knees, my hands on his shoulders and his ponytail blowing in my face 11 years ago.

"No, I sold it. Having a flashy ride is the quickest way there is to attract the attention of the cops, narcs and the county drug squad."

"So... you're dealing?" I probed. 

"That sounds so bad. I merely furnish my homegrown bud to a select group of friends, and they give me a little cash donation to help fund my education." 

While I beat the eggs, I learned Louis was living with his dear old granny in her farmhouse while he worked as a vet tech during the day and went to school 4 nights a week, majoring in biology. Next semester he'd be going to veterinary school at the nearby state university. I was amazed, I had no idea he was so smart and talented, even though he'd gotten decent grades in school, better than mine. His grandma might look sweet, he told me, but she was no fool. She knew what he was up to and she kept him on the run, scouting out his pot plants no matter where on her forty acres he planted them; he'd finally found the perfect hiding place, and he promised to take me to see Little Mickey, his prize plant, taller than my head and dripping with resin, the biggest fucking ganja plant I could imagine, that even my brother had never laid eyes on.

The phone rang. I had no intention of picking it up. My mom's cheery voice came on the answering machine.

"Hi Sean, it's your mom."

"No shit," I muttered to Louis. She always said that when she called, like I wouldn't know who it was.

"Listen, honey, I was talking to the Lakes. You know them, they own the Wild Goose Saloon? They're looking for a bartender; I told them about you and they said you have the job if you want it. They know about your arm and they said it's fine. That'll be a good job for you to earn your keep until you get your cast off and you can help Andy in the shop until you go back to the city."

At that, I noticed Louis' eyes went to me. I never thought there was any reason for me to stay here. But now, I was much less eager to leave. After all, even a job slinging beer at a redneck bar was more of a job than I had in the city at this point. My mom left the Lakes' number and hung up after telling me to call her. Carefully I concentrated on the omelet, avoiding Louis' gaze; I didn't want to talk about leaving. The Wild Goose? Christ. I could just imagine that, hanging around with Nick and the other drunken rednecks from high school every night.

As we sat around the table eating and drinking, we started talking about high school. We moved in totally different social circles. I was more the artistic type and Louis hung out with my brother and the other stoners. "I think I wanted to fuck you then," Louis grinned. "But I wasn't ready to face it yet."

"I understand." 

He'd had a serious girlfriend back then, Danielle, one of the bleach-blonde rocker chicks with big hair and ripped jeans, who hung around with my ex-sister Lindsey. They were all in my grade and I couldn't stand any of them. You hardly ever saw Louis without Danielle attached to him, they were even engaged at one point. When I asked him what happened to her, he made a choking sound. 

"Let's just say she figured something out about me that I've kept a secret until very recently."

Oh, shit. Was he telling me he was gay? It was obvious he was at least bisexual, but I needed him to be honest about it. And I definitely wasn't going to push. I waited, but he didn't say anything more, so instead, as we got a little drunk, I started telling him about my four years with Marc. He was a professor of American history. When we first got together I was in awe of his tremendous intellect and more than happy to let him run my disorganized life; he was older and very regimented, very efficient, completely the opposite of me. Gradually his guidance turned into control, which I resented more and more, and there were numerous sexual problems, mostly his and not mine, even though he blamed everything on me. Now I was so relieved to be away from him, his passive-aggressive hold on me, his constant phone calls to check up on me, I was almost delirious with freedom. To think I was ever actually upset when he told me to leave!

As it got later, we cuddled up on the couch together, drank beer and smoked weed, playing Zeppelin CDs from my brother's collection; and I told Louis about the guys I blew in high school. I named a few names he didn't believe, but he really couldn't believe it when I told him about my first--and really only--serious relationship, the only time I ever really gave my heart. Bryan Mitchell. Everyone at school knew him as Mitch, only I ever called him Bryan. A year older than me, in the grade between Louis and me, Bryan was class president, National Merit Scholar, handsome, tall with dark hair and a smile that hit me like a clap of thunder even in the crowded hallways, not even directed at me. He was a brain, one of the popular kids even if he was a little nerdy, and I was not. At school we hardly even acknowledged each other; but we were together secretly for my whole junior year. 

Everyone thought Rachel was my girlfriend, and Bryan really did have a girlfriend who knew nothing about us. We'd known each other all through school, but we were not in the same cliques and we never talked, not until the summer I lived with my mom between sophomore and junior years. Mom had just moved in next door to Bryan's family. It all started because we were bored, both of us without cars and nothing to do during the long, dull small-town summer. We hung out together a lot, listening to music in my room, not really even talking. And one thing led to another. I was sure by then I was gay, but Bryan wouldn't admit it, even though he was wholeheartedly into being with me. At least, he fucked me wholeheartedly. I was totally, deeply in love with him, the way only a 17-year-old can be, completely without reservations; and he even said he loved me. He was going to wait for me, and after graduation I was going to join him at the same college, where we would live happily ever after.

Needless to say it didn't work out that way. I didn't like to go into the painful details, it still hurt too much even after 13 years, but in the end I was profoundly hurt by him; and the scars cut so deep I'd never let myself get even close to feeling that way again. Until now. And that was why I was so petrified to find Louis breaking down my carefully constructed emotional walls and grinding them to powder.

"So... I don't know what's become of him or what he's doing now," I finished with a shrug.

"Well, I do," Louis stated suddenly. "He's married with two kids and he teaches chemistry at our old high school."

"No kidding." I shook my head. "Well, I feel sorry for his wife. She probably has no idea he's gay."

"Sleeping with a guy doesn't necessarily make you gay," Louis pointed out with some amusement.

"It sure doesn't make you straight," I snapped. Was he indirectly talking about himself? The thought made me feel sick to my stomach. I withdrew to the corner of the couch, pulling my knees up in front of me defensively; I must have been pretty transparent because Louis grinned and followed me, cornering me and pinning me to the couch while he kissed me, slow and sweet. It was too soon for either of us to be aroused again, and instead I just buried my face in his long, silky hair and closed my eyes with my arms wrapped around him, holding him.

The phone rang again; this time it was my best friend Rachel, half-whispering on the machine. "Sean, listen. If Tom calls here, you and I went out to the casino last night, and I had to drive you home. Okay?"

I sighed, shaking my head while Louis laughed. "A gay best friend's work is never done."

"What was that all about?"

In the course of explaining all last night's events, which seemed like they happened a week ago and not a day, I told him all about Ryan and Rachel, and then about Nick Innis and me, and what occurred when he brought his truck to the garage this morning, and exactly why I had my hand down my pants when Louis found me in the shop earlier. He seemed amused, but somewhat scandalized.

"Dude, isn't he your cousin or something?"

"Third cousin," I emphasized. "We're hardly related at all."

"I never would've pictured him as..." He wasn't sure what word to use. 

"Bi-curious? Me either. He's definitely not gay, he's just one of those people that will try anything if it feels good at the time. It didn't mean anything." It was important for me make that clear, even though Louis wasn't asking, he was just kind of looking at me. Wait, did that make me look like a slut? Christ, we never even mentioned condoms, did we? I got all nervous and started babbling. "Not that I do that kind of thing all the time. I haven't been with anyone but Marc in four years, and I've been tested, so you don't have to worry that I'm going to give you any diseases." 

Louis pulled me back against him and started massaging my shoulders. "It's nice you're concerned, but I trust you. I've known you too long not to. You know something I've always thought about you, Sean?"

"God knows," I answered nervously.

"You're way too uptight."

"Really? I think I've calmed down a lot in the last 12 years."

"You have, especially since you started smoking dope. Now that we've talked all about your ex-boyfriends, why don't we talk about you." He breathed into my ear. His hands felt so good rubbing my neck, working out the tension. "Tell me what makes Sean tick, what gets you off."

"Well..." This was definitely a subject I was uptight about. I tried to brush off the question by playing cute. "Umm, I like to masturbate."

"No kidding," Louis teased. "I hadn't noticed. But tell me what you think about when you're touching yourself."

"First you have to answer the same question," I stalled, turning it around on him.

"Okay." Louis didn't seem to have a problem telling me his fantasies, which he admitted he'd never talked about with anyone before. He'd already told me earlier that he'd been thinking about being with a guy for a long time. He'd seen enough porn to know the score. If he never got to act out this particular fantasy, he qualified, that was fine; but something that really excited him was the idea of someone watching while he was with a guy. It could even be a girl, he didn't really care about that, it was just the taboo of being watched that turned him on. I didn't say it, but the wheels were turning in my head; there were several ways I could set that up, if things worked out. If this didn't turn out to be just a one-night thing, and that would only happen if he wanted it to, because I certainly didn't.

"Now you. I really want to know."

"I can't, Louis." I backpedalled as fast as I could. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can tell you."

"Come on, Sean. If it's a little kinky, so what? As long as it's not illegal, or dangerous, it's no big deal. I won't be freaked out."

"My ex was."

"I'm not him."

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and mumbled something under my breath.

"What was that?" Louis demanded. 

"Peeing," I mumbled a little louder, squirming with shame. My heart was pounding. "I... I get off thinking about peeing, okay?"

"What, like on someone, or what?" Louis asked casually.

"No... on... on myself," I admitted reluctantly. "You know how when you're about to come, sometimes it's so intense, there's a moment you're not sure whether or not you might piss..."

All the sudden Louis started laughing, which was not the reaction I was expecting. "That sounds like prostate trouble to me, Sean. Wait... I'm sorry, it's not funny. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, that's nothing. It's kind of cute, actually. If you don't mind my asking, how did you become interested in this?"

"At first I just noticed that feeling, and it kind of stuck in my mind; and then I stumbled across some stuff on the internet, and I started seeking out web sites, and it kind of became my secret little hobby. I mentioned it to Marc kind of half-joking, but he thought it was disgusting so I didn't pursue it." Actually, despite my initial embarrassment, it was kind of a relief to talk about it. It had been a secret for such a long time and now I didn't have to hide it anymore. It was almost like coming out of the closet. Again.

"So have you ever done it? I mean, on your own?"

"No, I've thought about it, but I don't think I could handle it if someone caught me, or found out, and I really can't believe I'm even telling you this." I wiped sweat off my forehead. I couldn't have told anyone but Louis. He'd made a joke, but he wasn't horrified. A lot of people said they didn't judge, but Louis was the most accepting person I'd ever known. Why had I never noticed this about him? "Also," I added suddenly, without even meaning to, "whenever I think about it, I blow my load so fast, I've never been able to actually get that far."

"Well-- do you want to try it?"

"What, now?" I got panicky again. 

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged. "It's really no big deal, Sean. It's probably pretty common. There's even a name for it, right?"

"Yes, but... I don't know, there's a difference between thinking about it and really doing it." The fetish, if you will, was just too secret, too recently exposed for me to take it all the way so soon. "I want to try it. But another time."

"Okay," Louis said casually, and to my relief he let it drop. 

Long into the night we hung out in the living room, getting more and more drunk and high, talking about anything and everything. Somehow we managed to get Louis' soaked clothes into the washer and dryer. Finally, we were both totally baked, giggling and stumbling down the stairs to my room; I pulled Louis' clothes off, all except his socks, and we fell into bed but we only groped around a little before we were asleep. My last conscious thought was how good he felt next to me.

Our connection was almost scary. When I woke up in the night with an aching erection just from his closeness, Louis was already awake, waiting for me. No words were needed. I dug a tube of lubricant from where it was hidden between the mattress and the wall and Louis turned me over on my stomach and fucked me slow and hard in the dark, his long hair brushing over my back like a curtain of silk. I gripped the edge of the bed, hardly able to withstand the intensity. He belonged inside me. God, he was fucking amazing, and sadly, it had been a long time since I'd been with someone who turned me on as much as he did. I was fast becoming addicted to him. We had not planned ahead; there was no towel or shirt or anything handy to wipe up with, but in a moment of inspiration Louis reached down and pulled his sock off. He used it to wipe up as he pulled out, and then he grabbed my hips, rolled me over, and went down on me. I let out a cry; and at the last minute, caught up in an earthquake, I pushed him back and finished myself off with my hand.




The Good Old Boy Ch. 03



He slid up next to me and buried his sweaty face in my shoulder. I grabbed him as our breathing returned to normal and I came down off my high, drifting toward sleep.

"Why won't you let me get you off?" he whispered suddenly.

I was thankful for the dark that hid my face from him. It was easier when I couldn't see him, whispering even though there was no one to hear.

"I don't know... it's just this thing I have. It's not you. It's me."

He was quiet a second. "In case you're wondering if you can trust me..."

Ever since he washed my hair, that's exactly what I was wondering, if I was going to get hurt, because I couldn't stand that, not at my age--

"You can."

Next morning, I buried my face under the pillow and groaned as sunlight peered through the high window opposite my head. The rain had finally stopped and it was a clear early spring day, still cool enough in the damp basement to need blankets. I was not a morning person. The clock said it was after nine, not even close to time for me to get up, but I was alone in the empty bed. There was no sign of Louis except for his balled-up socks on the floor, stiff with last night's dried juices.

Laziness won out over curiosity for the moment. I always hated getting out bed. I would lie there until I had to pee so bad it hurt. Finally, I was forced up to get up and go naked to the bathroom. Once in the hall I could smell coffee, so I knew Louis hadn't slipped off without waking me up, like a one-night-stand who only wanted to escape. I stood there for a very long time, pissing out all last night's beer with my eyes closed sleepily, the splashing of the water letting me know my aim was on. Emptying my aching bladder felt so good I let out a little groan.

"Need a hand with that?"

Louis was leaning in the doorframe with his arms crossed and his eyes on my dick after sliding over my naked body. I was embarrassed, in light of last night's confession of my secret interest in water sports; but at the same time I was highly turned on. While he watched my cock started to harden and rise, and the flow of piss naturally stopped, leaving me with a slight pressure in my not-quite-empty bladder. I tried to force it out and all the sudden Louis was standing behind me, his hard cock pressed against my ass through my borrowed boxer shorts he was wearing, and his hands slipped around me and gently wrapped around my dick, pointing it down to the toilet. Electrified, I stood there with my mouth open and my mind blank. I was frozen, rooted to the spot, while the conflicting needs of my body struggled in me.

"Can you finish?" he whispered.

I wanted to. I needed to. I needed to finish pissing and then push him over the sink and fuck him silly, virgin or not; but I couldn't. My body wouldn't let me. Not even a trickle. Helplessly I stepped back from the toilet. I was weak with disappointment, but when Louis turned me around, his brown eyes grinned into mine and he led me through the hallway into the bedroom, where he quickly shucked the boxers and a t-shirt of mine he was wearing so that he was naked, his erection springing up against his belly. I sank down on the edge of the bed and reached for him, my hand on his hip; I wanted to taste that beautiful thick cock of his, but he stopped me.

"No, baby," he whispered; and a hot wave of love and desire flooded my whole body when he used that word in that sexy voice. I assumed he wanted to fuck me again, and I was fine with that. I slid down the edge of the bed to my knees so he could take me doggie-style, the only way we hadn't tried it yet. But once again he stopped me, and so I waited, unsure what he wanted, while he lay back full length against my bed with his head on my pillow. 

"You. Up here."

By now I was panting, ready to do anything he wanted. What he wanted was for me to straddle his chest, my knees on either side of his neck, right above his shoulders, so that my cock was right in his face. The pillow lifted his head so the angle was better. As his tongue swirled around the head of my prick, tasting the rim, I braced my good arm against the wall behind him for support, while my broken right arm slid down and my fingers cradled his head. I looked down and almost shot off just at the sight of my body thrust forward, his head between my knees, my cock dancing on the edge of his lips, his pink tongue flicking over my balls. Jesus fucking Christ!

He felt my hips buck and grinned, his hands catching my ass cheeks. His face was red in what I knew from yesterday was a flush of excitement. "Whoa there, Trigger."

"Oh Louis, oh God," I whimpered like an idiot.

"I know you like to be in control," he said in that low, raspy, unbelievably sexy voice. "Then do it. Fuck my mouth."

"Oh shit...."

A note of fear entered my voice, but I plunged forward into his waiting mouth, supporting his neck with my hand, lifting it off the pillow so he could take all of me. It was like jumping out of an airplane with no parachute. There was nothing between us, nothing holding me back as he took my cock deep into his mouth like he'd been doing it all his life. The pleasure was so intense I was terrified; tears formed in the corners of my eyes and a scalding sweat trickled down my back, dripping onto his chest. His hands gripped my ass hard, forcing me into a wild, pounding rhythm. His eyes gleamed up at me, he was fiercely determined to make me come in his mouth, and I was on the edge of doing it--

"Louis, no, I can't!" I cried out. His hands released their tight hold on my hips and he let me pull out of his mouth as the orgasm tore through me and I spurted right in his face, splattering his bearded chin, his neck, and my pillow with my spunk. When I was spent, I drew a shaky breath and smiled down at him sheepishly while he wiped the sticky fluid off his face with his hand, grinning.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? That was amazing."

God I love you. It almost came out of my mouth. To stop it, I flipped off him to my side, up on my elbow, and took his heavy, engorged prick in my mouth. He was close to coming already. While I blew him, I was thinking how amazing this was, how unexpected; and yet, I was totally unsure about what happened next. There wouldn't be many opportunities for wild nights like this. I certainly wouldn't feel right fucking Louis downstairs from my brother, and on the weekends, my niece and nephew; and Andy hardly ever went anywhere other than work and occasionally out to bars, so the house was seldom empty. Better, I guess, to have a weekend fling than nothing at all, but I just wasn't sure I could stand it that way.

Now wasn't really the time to be pondering that, however. Increasing the pressure of my sucking, I took him deeper until I felt his balls go tight and his hips bucked up. He let out a moan. Hot, thick come filled my mouth and I swallowed it quickly. Sometimes the stickiness gagged me, but Louis' come was creamy, not chunky, and almost sweet. I licked my lips while he lifted his red face, grinning. 

"Damn, baby."

I laughed, running my tongue up his chest to his mouth. I kissed him, sharing the taste of his come. Then I closed my eyes and rolled over next to him, relaxing. My hangover wasn't terrible, but I could use a few more hours to sleep it off. "Nap time."

"I want to," Louis said, "but I can't."

I tried to hide my hurt and disappointment. "Why not?"

"I've got all kinds of shit to do." He got up and started putting on his clothes that he'd gotten out of the dryer. "I've got three exams this week I have to study for, I need to take care of my animals at home, and I've got to do follow-up visits on some animals later."

"On a Sunday?" 

"You call the sick animals and explain to them it's my day off," he suggested. "Besides. Andy will probably be home soon, won't he?"

"Yeah," I admitted softly.

"He's probably not ready to see you sitting on my face," Louis said with a grin, and I had to admit, he was probably right to a point, especially since the kids would be with him. I watched him button his pants. Baby, he called me. We had never talked about where we stood now. Shit, I didn't even know if he was gay or not. I couldn't ask. I didn't want to seem whiny, or needy; I didn't want to seem like I cared too much. So I said nothing.

"Can I borrow some socks?" he grinned.

Eventually, Louis buttoned up his flannel shirt and sat down on the edge of the bed next to me with his soft, wavy long hair hanging loose and shiny in the sun coming through the little window. It was all I could do not to bury my hands in it.

"I gotta go," he said in a very sweet, soft voice I hadn't heard before, his brown eyes going over my face. He smiled. "I'll see you later this week though. Okay?"

"Yeah." I nodded, swallowing my fears and doubts. "Okay."

Part 4 coming soon...



The Good Old Boy Ch. 04



I was behind the bar at the Wild Goose that very same night. The owners, Carla and Johnny Lake, wanted to attract a younger crowd and generally make the place more hip. That made me grin to myself, but I nodded seriously. They were very clear that they wanted to hear any ideas I had to change the image of the place and draw people in. Ideas? This hick town wasn’t ready for my ideas. It never had been. 

From Marc, who roped me into fixing drinks at his stuck-up faculty wine and cheese parties, I had learned quite a repertoire of cocktails. But it was highly unlikely that anyone would be ordering a vodka gimlet or a green apple martini at the Wild Goose, not when the closest thing they had to an import was Michelob. 

Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, I worked with Carla Lake so she could train me on the register, tapping the kegs, and cashing out. It was pretty easy stuff. The day person, Mandy, would do most of the stocking before she left since I couldn’t do a whole lot of lifting with my broken arm; and if the keg ran out during my shift one of the regulars would be willing to carry it in from the stock room in back and change it for me. During the week things were pretty quiet. I’d come in at 6 and leave at 1 am; and then on Friday and Saturday night they had a license to stay open until 2 am. The pay was better than I expected, but Carla cautioned me not to expect much tipping, unless it was Friday night. Patrons of the Goose were notoriously bad tippers.

“Think you can handle it by yourself?” she asked as we cashed out Tuesday night.

“Sure.”

“Well, Johnny and I know you’ll do a good job. Take tomorrow off and come back Wednesday ready to rock and roll.”

I was used to lying around watching TV and drinking beer, not working; when I came home at night I fell into bed exhausted. At least now I had an excuse to sleep till noon. Andy and I saw each other when he came up to the house from the garage to eat his lunch and that was it. I hadn’t seen Louis or talked to him since he left Sunday morning. He was usually over here several times a week at Andrew’s nightly parties, but now that I had a job I wasn’t here myself; I thought about calling him, but he never gave me his cell number, and if I asked Andy for it he would want to know why I needed to call Louis. As far as that went, I didn’t care if the whole world knew about Louis and me; but for his sake I kept silent. It wasn’t my place to out him. I knew he was busy, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about him constantly, especially when I woke up alone with a hard on, stroking it while I relived the feeling of his hands holding my ass as I thrust into his mouth, or my tongue pushing gently inside his tight virgin hole while he moaned in his throat.

I spent my day off with Rachel and her 3-year-old Will. I went over there about every other afternoon to watch SpongeBob SquarePants with Will so Rachel could shop or have some “Mommy time”; in return she cooked for me and washed my hair in her laundry room sink. I don’t think she told Tom I came over so often. It wasn’t that he was jealous; but Rachel admitted he was somewhat homophobic. I wondered what he’d say if he knew that the James in William James wasn’t some great-uncle of Rachel’s like she’d told him, but my real first name that no one called me. I didn’t really make an issue of it. If Tom didn’t like fags, that was his problem. I didn’t particularly care for bigots myself.

When I got home, the party was in full swing, with my brother grilling steaks and sausages outside and everyone drinking and smoking pot. I had a headache from too many episodes of Blue’s Clues so I went downstairs for a nap. It was getting close to 9 o’clock when I came up to get something to eat and have a few hits of the community bong. The party had moved to the TV by then for the college basketball game, but I was just zoning out and indulging my munchies. The sports gene had skipped me. That’s when headlights pulled up in the driveway and Louis came in.

Across the room our eyes met, and Louis gave me a secret little wink before he looked away. My heart jumped, along with my dick, but I tried not to show it; there were too many people here even if they were all watching basketball. Everyone was happy to see Louis. He was the man with the good weed, after all. As we got high, I was sitting next to Louis at the kitchen table along with a few other people, but we didn’t look at each other. They seemed oblivious to the electricity between us. How could anyone not notice the air practically crackled?

“I guess I need to go on a beer run.” Louis got up and pulled his keys out.

“I’ll ride along,” I said casually. No one even looked up as I followed him out the door to his old green Jeep Cherokee. 

In the car, in the dark, he glanced over at me and smiled his cute, sexy, familiar smile. I could remember when he had a mouth full of metal. “So how’s the job?”

I didn’t bother to ask how he knew I’d taken the Lakes up on their offer. In a town this small you can’t take a shit without everyone knowing it. “It’s okay.”

On the country road that led into town, there were no lights at all other than the Jeep’s headlights illuminating the road. It was very, very dark, and when I looked up at the sky through the car window I clearly saw the silvery thumbnail of the moon and the shining stars of Orion’s belt. The radio was playing “Stairway to Heaven.” Along the road was an old storage building that used to be part of someone‘s farm. Louis pulled off into the gravel and stopped the car. Turning off the headlights, he faced me and smiled in the dim green light from the radio.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Reaching out, we fell on each other. We were like two starving people at a feast, devouring with our mouths, making urgent and greedy little sounds as we strained to touch as much of one another as we could reach. Hands tugged impatiently at jackets and shirt buttons. So quickly I never could remember later how it happened, we were in the back of the Jeep; Louis obviously used it for work because the back seat was taken out and the cargo area was lined with boxes and stacks of veterinary supplies. There was just enough room to recline if we didn’t stretch out, a lot more comfortable than the tiny back seat of a Shelby Mustang. Louis’ belt made a whizzing, snapping noise as I pulled it through the loops and tossed it aside.

There were dangers to getting it on in the car like this. The county patrol usually didn’t come all the way out here, but there was always that chance; and Louis informed me that the night deputy was a guy we’d gone to high school with. I didn’t give a shit who caught me fucking a man in the back of a Jeep, but he might not be ready for that kind of exposure yet. There wasn’t much need to stick around long anyway, because we both finished up very quickly, our passion at the breaking point after 2 days. In the dark I held on to him while our hearts slowed in unison.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he whispered suddenly.

“Fuck yes,” I blurted out in a blaze of excitement, but then I realized how aggressive I sounded and added on more cautiously. “But only if that’s something you want. You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said softly. I could just make out his eyes in the pale light of the moon. “But it’s only fair, right?”

“I don’t mind. I love having you inside me.” This, to my profound surprise, was the complete truth. When he pulled out I felt empty and hollow. I needed him there, filling me. This was a feeling I hadn’t had in a very long time, wanting to open myself to someone, not since the very first time I ever fell for a guy, my junior year of high school. Louis had brought to life a part of me I thought died long ago. “If you want it, we can, but I don’t want to hurt you. We’ll have to work up to it. Starting next time.”

This felt like a terrible risk, assuming there would be a next time for us; it was the first time either of us had mentioned a word about the future. But Louis just nodded. Then we slowly sat up and pulled ourselves back together and continued on the road to town; we couldn’t exactly come back from a beer run with no beer. Louis was quiet, lost in thought.

“I used to think there was something wrong with me,” he said suddenly. “All my friends, the other guys at school, the only thing they cared about was getting pussy, but I was never all that interested. I did it with Danielle more as a duty; and when I was with her, it was sometimes hard for me to get off. I really had to concentrate, and if my mind wandered, I sometimes couldn’t come at all. She bragged to all her friends that I could last all night, but it got tiring. Sometimes with chicks I ended up just faking it. I always used a condom so they couldn’t tell I hadn’t come.”

“I think we’ve found the solution to your problem,” I remarked with a grin. The generous amounts of jism he spurted out were proof that his climaxes were real enough.

“Yeah. But it’s funny… I honestly didn’t know why. I thought it was Dani, that maybe I wasn’t turned on by her. So I tried it with lots of other girls to make sure. And it was the same. But otherwise Dani was okay; so I stayed with her more or less from habit. It was comfortable. That is, until she started talking about marriage.”

“Oh God.” I shuddered in genuine horror.

“All her friends were getting married, and she wanted to have a big fancy wedding too. That’s when I panicked. All the sudden I knew I couldn’t spend my life chained to somebody I wasn’t attracted to. Dani was smart enough to see I was never going to marry her and she dumped me. That was about 5 years ago, and after that… I just figured I wasn’t sexual at all. I just decided to live my life without sex.”

Sad. I didn’t say it, but I was thinking it. Deciding at 27 you don’t need sex. Sex is life. With us, it isn’t about procreation, but it’s a primal, ingrained human need to connect and share the pleasures of someone else’s being, to feel joined, at least for a moment, and not completely alone in the world. And Louis… He was by far the best lover I’d ever had. Sex was an all-over experience for him, not just something that happened below the belt. Now I knew why. Not only was every experience of being with a man new to him, but even the feeling, that intense physical and emotional sexual need, was something he’d never known before. To share it with him was incredible. 

I could have pushed him right now with a remark like, Is that when you realized you were gay? But a comment he’d made yesterday stopped me. “Having sex with a guy doesn’t make you gay.” The story he’d just shared pretty much told me what I needed to know, but he wasn’t ready for the G-word yet. Because of my growing feelings for him, I wanted to keep things safe for him, and for myself, so I didn’t push. But I did have to ask one question.

“If you’ve never been with a guy before, then how did you learn all those things you do?” All those things that drove me wild with excitement, that made me wake up sweating in the middle of the night…

“Just because I thought I didn’t need sex, doesn’t mean I didn’t look at porn on the internet.” He grinned at me and we cracked up laughing. 

Later, after everyone had either passed out or gone home, I lay in my lonely bed and thought about it. There was a logical progression there. One of two things had happened. Either Louis came across gay porn accidentally, and in doing so realized it turned him on; or he was curious and he sought it out to discover his reaction to it. I knew from my own internet adventures that one seldom “accidentally” came across gay porn. Sure, porn was everywhere, but it was mostly straight porn-- fake tits, horny coeds. To find guy-on-guy stuff took a little participation; and anything special interest, like my own thing for water sports, was out-and-out search engine stuff. So no. It was no accident. At some point Louis had realized he was turned on by gay porn and he used the internet to develop his interest, just like I did with my little fetish.

How many closeted men were out there right now, looking at guy-on-guy pictures or reading stories about gay sex? All the while telling themselves they aren’t gay. They’re just casually surfing the internet, and hey! Look at that! Gay porn pops up on the screen! But Louis had taken it to the next level, and that took courage. He could have kept jerking off, but instead, he met me halfway. I hadn’t really come on to him; it was an unplanned moment of sudden mutual attraction. I wanted to think he’d done it because he liked me, but the truth of the matter was, I might have just been the first gay guy available to try things out with. First? Around here, probably only. So I couldn’t start pressuring him about being gay and blurting out my feelings for him, at least not until I had a better feel for things. I knew exactly how intoxicating it was at first to discover your sexuality after trying to repress it for so long. It went against every fiber of my gay, uptight, control-freak being, but I had no choice but to let things unfold naturally.

Wednesday night was my first official night bartending at the Wild Goose. Things were pretty quiet when I got there; just a bunch of guys hunched on their barstools in camouflage hats. Nick Innis was there. He’d been there every night I worked, but I hadn’t really talked to him, not with Carla Lake looking over my shoulder. His mullet brushed his shoulders and as usual, he wore tight jeans and cowboy boots with a three-day growth of beard.

“Hey,” he said neutrally when I brought him a cold beer. His green eyes sparkled wickedly. “Get that part for my truck in yet?”

“I’ll put it on Andy’s parts order this week,” I answered, giving him a little grin. Flirting was fine, but I didn’t really have a boner for him anymore. I saw him more clearly now. Despite a nice ass, he had the dissolute, slightly bloated, red-eyed look of a budding alcoholic.

As Carla said, weeknights were pretty dull. I spent the time making Jello shots for the weekend. This was one of my ideas, along with margaritas. They already had 50 cent draft night, but what this place needed was to draw in more females. Once the girls came in for my jello shots and margaritas, the guys would come too. I was also lobbying for a karaoke night. I couldn’t wait to sing “I Touch Myself” in front of a bar full of drunk rednecks. 

The evening went by excruciatingly slowly. About eleven thirty the door opened; everyone looked up curiously to see who was coming in so late. To my complete shock, it was Louis. He looked so hot with his ponytail and a red Columbia zip-up jacket over his jeans. He grinned at me and sat down at the end of the bar while I brought him a bottle of Bud Light.

“Hey, don’t you have school and work tomorrow?” I asked him, leaning in a little. I noticed Nick looking at me from the other end of the bar and I moved back. But I couldn’t help beaming like an idiot.

“Yeah, but I thought I’d come by and buy you a drink.”

“Let me buy you one instead.” 

One turned into several, and before I knew it, it was last call and time to close up. Louis lingered behind as everyone else dragged themselves off their barstools and stumbled out the door. Nick had been staring at us all night and even though he was fairly drunk, he still turned and sized Louis up from head to toe before he left, slamming the door. 

“I gotta cash out,” I said under my breath.

“’Kay. Want to meet me?”

I nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. Be about fifteen minutes. Same place as last night?”

We couldn’t go to my house because of Andrew, peacefully sleeping in the bedroom above mine. We couldn’t go to his house because of his sweet old granny. So we were reduced to car sex like two teenagers. Well, I didn’t have a problem with that. I didn’t expect him to leave with me, advertising the truth to anyone with half a brain, either. Part of a loaf was better than no bread at all, especially to someone as hungry as I was. In fact, I was ravenous. I finished the close-out as fast as I could without screwing it up completely.

The green Jeep sat in my headlights when my tires crunched on the gravel around the old storage building. He smiled at me when I got in the passenger door, turning to kiss me without a word. Sometimes Louis and I didn’t have to talk. The waxing moon was brighter tonight, casting more light on us, letting me see the contours of his face washed in silver. I used to dream about a perfect guy, one with the face and body of a Greek god, carved out of marble. I lifted my hand and brushed my fingertips over his cheek. Louis didn’t have a flawless face with perfect, pouty lips and sculpted cheekbones. What he had was kind of a cute round face hidden by his scuffy beard and eyes that danced even in the darkness, still that same kid I knew from grade school. I didn’t care about perfection anymore. I was no underwear model myself; my nose wasn’t perfect and I could stand to lose ten pounds. I was too old for dreams of Prince Charming. I wanted a real man. His flaws were what made him sexy.

“What’re you staring at?” he whispered, but I just smiled at him and drew him in closer to fill his mouth with my tongue.

“Is it too cold to get naked?”

In the back of the Jeep, I tugged at his jeans, frustrated. Pulled down around the knees, pants were restrictive, even more so in a tight space. 

“I want these off.”

Louis brightened with an idea; twisting around he opened one of his boxes of supplies and pulled out a soft, folded plaid blanket. It had animal hair on it, probably off a horse, but I didn’t care. Underneath it, I pulled off his Merrell shoes and his jeans. He never wore underwear so that made it easier. He was squirming around, half laughing, as I fell on him mercilessly, pulling his shirt up to his chest, tasting every inch of him with my tongue. His nipples were a hot spot, I’d discovered. When I licked them, he drew a breath; when I bit them, he let out a little yelp, which was followed by a low moan of pleasure and his arms wrapping around my back.

“Uh-uh.” I pushed his arms up over his head and held his wrists with my good hand, my full weight pressing down on him. His naked erection throbbed right against mine, straining against the crotch of my jeans, wetting them; I watched his eyes roll backward while I slowly undulated my hips against his, and despite the cool air outside the blanket, we were both suddenly covered in sweat. With a swift motion I threw the blanket off and the cool night air rushed around our overheated flesh. He played along with my little game, laughingly submitting to me; but he wasn’t laughing when I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, breathing hot and wet. I held his arms down at his sides as he tried to break away. I wanted to be in control of this.

“Oh God, Sean, you’re making me so hot,” he choked, throwing his head back.

Usually any kind of talking somewhat annoyed me; it distracted me and made me feel foolish, like I was in a bad porn movie, especially the “Ohhh, so good,” type of crap. I was definitely the “shut up and fuck me, then get off me” type. But not with Louis, because when he started talking, it wasn’t fake to stroke his ego. It was completely real, genuine and meant. Just like everything about him. 

“Jesus,” I breathed. On my knees over him, I paused in amazement and for a second I just gazed down at him in the pale light of the stars and moon in the black night surrounding us, his lean smooth chest, his pale hips, his thick, erect cock with its perfectly shaped head. His familiar face with his long hair damp with sweat, clinging to his neck, eyes looking up at me, serious for once. “Where the hell have you been all this time?” I whispered.

“I’ve been right here, Sean; the question is where have you been.”

Something in me shattered. Maybe it was my inhibitions, or my male ego, because suddenly I didn’t care about playing games, all I cared about was pleasuring him. I plunged his big dick all the way into the back of my throat, sucking it hard and deep while I used my good hand to massage his soft balls. They tightened. When his hands clenched in my hair and his head whipped from side to side, I withdrew and pushed his legs up in sudden motion that probably would have freaked him out if he hadn’t been so far gone. It was so dark, I could barely see the shadow of his hole between his sweet, boyish cheeks. 




The Good Old Boy Ch. 04



Off to the side there was a tube of KY jelly Louis had triumphantly produced from his veterinary supplies last night; what animal purpose it was used for I didn’t want to know. Quickly I grabbed it and used my hand to glide it all up and down his cock, stroking it slow and steady; and when he was ready I grabbed his hand and replaced mine with it, letting him continue exactly the way he liked it. I only had one good hand and I needed it for something else right now.

Only my tongue had ever been inside his tight ass before. That notion turned me on beyond belief as I closed my eyes and slid my tongue down from his balls and deep into his crack. The scent excited me on a deep, primal level and I wasn’t gentle this time as I worked my tongue into the little hole. It wasn’t as rigid now; it flexed eagerly, welcoming me in. Hungrily I licked and probed until Louis was groaning and squirming so fiercely I almost couldn’t hold him still. That’s when I paused to let him calm down; and quickly I squirted some of the jelly on my finger so that he had no idea what I was doing. He couldn’t see it, so he didn’t a chance to tense up in anticipation; when my finger circled the little entrance, he was so overwhelmed that he didn’t know it was my middle finger and not my tongue. At least, not until I slipped it in as far as I felt he could take it.

“Oh God!” He let out an incredulous sound, but he didn’t stop stroking himself, and I used my tongue on his balls to keep him so close to the edge he wouldn’t think about what was happening. His sphincter gripped my finger, but he wasn’t in pain. When I felt him relax, I started moving my finger gently inside him, not deep or hard. My fingers aren’t that big really, it was a good starter for him, and he was going absolutely crazy. I knew he was very, very close to blowing his load.

“Are you ready?” I asked in a low, sexy voice. “Because your head is going to explode.”

His only answer was kind of a muffled, urgent wail.

More KY and I slowly added my index finger. Jesus Christ. I was still completely dressed, but I was so turned on just by watching him I was about to burst, and oh God, all I wanted was to push his legs into his chest and thrust my aching cock into him and ride him like a bronco. But I managed to maintain control of myself; and suddenly Louis’ whole body went rigid as the sensation of being fucked by two fingers sent him over the edge. With his hand on his shaft, he shuddered and erupted, spurting come all over his stomach. During the last pulse I slipped my fingers out of him so he wouldn’t feel any kind of discomfort during that moment of exit. Chest heaving like a sprinter, he watched as I quickly jerked off into the blanket, leaving my dick all sticky, with animal fur stuck all over it like a glazed donut that fell on the floor.

“Shit,” I said, looking up. I felt vaguely ridiculous, my furry cock sticking obscenely out of my fly. “It’s really fucking late.”

I had to go home; he had to go home. I should have been elated from the incredible sex, but instead I was sort of depressed as I drove the country roads. Yeah, sure, we had wild, hot sex. Really, really hot sex. Ten years ago it would have been just perfect, but… somehow that wasn’t enough for me. In less than two weeks I’d be 30 years old. I wanted someone to hold me at night, not just fuck me in the back of the car and then send me home to sleep alone. When Marc and I split I swore to myself I’d never get into another relationship, that I’d love ‘em and leave ‘em from now on; but then Louis exploded into my life and broke down every barrier I had, and now everything was different. But could he ever give me what I wanted? If he couldn’t, was I willing to accept what I could have?

“So exactly where are things going with you guys?” Rachel asked me early the next week. The weather was nice and we took Will to the park, chatting on a park bench while he happily played in the sandbox with his toy backhoes and bulldozers. I’m sure everyone thought I was his daddy, since Rachel had red hair and Will’s hair was blonde like mine, but he was a stocky kid like his father, all boy. “Are you dating, just friends, lovers, what?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed wearily and braced myself for the inevitable disbelieving repetition: What do you mean you don’t know?

“I mean, we’ve never really talked about it.” 

“I know, I know. You guys have more important things to do than talk.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

“We talk. We talk all the time about lots of things. Just… not that.” 

Louis had popped into the Goose a few nights when I worked, and we met afterwards in the back of his Jeep, but we didn‘t have sex every single time we saw each other. We couldn’t. When he came over to the house to party and I wasn’t working, we couldn’t exactly sneak off to my room, so we casually talked in the kitchen or played X-Box with my nephew; and believe it or not, Sunday morning I got up early after working until 2 am to go on Louis’ animal follow-ups with him, and then we spent the whole day fishing. I’m not a fishing fanatic, but spending the day with him outdoors was wonderful. He was wonderful. We only caught about 3 fish because we talked all day and hardly paid attention to the fishing lines at all. I brought my latest journal and let him look through some of my sketches and notes for stories I was planning; and we smoked some weed under the trees on the riverbank, sipping beer from the cooler behind us. 

“My biggest regret is that I never came out to my dad.” It wasn’t easy for me to talk about my father. With most people I didn’t, because they didn’t know him, so they couldn’t possibly understand. But Louis had seen our complicated family for himself, so he knew a little about mine and Andy’s pain at losing our dad so young, and our sadness at not getting to know him better when he was alive. Louis knew my dad wasn’t an easy person to get to know.

“You were sixteen. You couldn’t have known for sure then.”

“I knew,” I said, shaking my head as I stared off across the water. “I knew, but I was scared to tell him.”

“Well, he knows now.” He turned to me and gave me that sweet, incredible smile that almost made me weep with love for him.

“You know how men are,” I told Rachel. “Men are assholes. We never talk about anything personal, unless it’s very general.”

“Oh, I know. I don’t understand how you gay boys ever accomplish anything without a woman to move things along.”

“See… therein lies the problem.” I couldn’t quite look at her; I really did hate talking about these things, even with her. “I’m not one hundred percent sure Louis really is gay.”

“You’re fucking like bunnies, and you think he might be straight? What does he have to do, get notarized documents from headquarters?”

I made a token laugh. “Not straight, no. But he’s not out, Rachel. He’s never actually announced that he’s gay. And if he’s still in the closet, that scares me because I really think I love him, and I couldn’t stand it if he…”

“If he pulled a Bryan Mitchell?”

“Yeah.” I made a face when she said the name. “Something like that.”

“Big news flash, cowboy. You’re not seventeen anymore and neither is Louis. I’d love to march over to Mitch’s house, have a long talk with his wife and then take him out back and beat his ass for what he did to you, but let’s face it. It’s been 13 years. It’s time for you to get over him and move on.”

“I am over him,” I said in a low voice. “But I don’t know if I can ever get past what he did to me. You don’t know what it was like, Rach.”

“Whose fault was that? I tried to help, but you wouldn’t talk to me about it. You spent our entire senior year locked up in your room listening to the Smiths and crying into your pillow. I missed the prom because of Bryan Mitchell. Sean, no one loves you like I do.” She picked up my hand. “And if I was a gay man we’d both be happy forever. God help me, I’m such a fag hag. But the best I can do is tell you that, if you screw this up with Louis Welch because you’re a chicken shit, I’ll kill you.”

Unwillingly I smiled. “And what do you suggest, Dr. Freud?”

“March up to him and tell him how you feel. Demand to know if he’s gay. Cut him off till he tells you where you stand.”

“Isn’t it wonderful when people know exactly how you should live, and yet their own love lives are completely fucked?”

A few days later, I had just gotten out of bed after meeting Louis after work the night before; I was making BLTs and Andrew was placing his AC Delco parts order on the internet over at his desk across the kitchen. Several girls had given me their phone numbers at work, and when I tried to politely decline, they told me the number was for my brother, not me, and could I have Andrew call them. He was the handsome one in the family. We were both blonde and blue-eyed like our dad, but Andy was six feet tall with perfect features, and unfortunately, I was only 5’10” and had the O’Brien nose. Not what you’d call ugly, just plain, compared to him. He wanted nothing to do with women, didn’t even look at the phone numbers I taped to his computer screen. Lindsey had really done a number on him. I’d had to get the story from Louis because Andy wouldn’t talk about her. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Louis lately,” Andy suddenly remarked.

I looked at him warily; he was looking at the computer screen and not at me. I grunted. “Yeah.”

“He’s not gay, you know.”

“What?” I asked quickly, freezing.

“It’s pretty obvious you have a thing for him, and I just wanted to be sure you know that he’s not gay.”

Something inside of me died a little at that moment. My chest hurt because I couldn’t seem to breathe. I barely managed to speak, in a voice that sounded nothing like my own. “Did Louis tell you to say this to me?”

“What? No. He hasn’t mentioned it. But I have eyes, I can see what’s going on around me. I’m just trying to look out for my kid brother, you know, keep your heart from being stomped.”

I breathed an almost silent sigh of relief as the blood came back into my face. “Well, don’t worry about me,” I said with a certain amount of sarcasm. “I can handle myself.”

“Hey, that’s fine, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.” Andy shrugged cheerfully.

Business was picking up at the Goose, thanks to my margaritas and Jello shots, and we were getting a pretty good crowd on weekends, new people instead of just the regulars who were almost part of the barstools they each claimed as their own. A lot of them were people I’d gone to high school with, but never knew. They knew me though. I’d managed to stand out pretty well in high school. Even being in the closet couldn’t extinguish my bright light. I worked the bar alone without any problems, smooth and seamless for someone with no bartending experience; I had a humorous touch with the drunks nobody who knew me in high school could believe.

“God, you’re so different,” they all exclaimed. When I asked if I was such a prick back then, they smiled. I knew I was. I tried to be. I was angry and I hated everyone. Myself, the people around me, Bryan Mitchell, my dad for dying. But people grow up and they learn to let go of their bitterness. At least, some of us do.

One evening, I’d just walked in the door and I was in the stock room rounding up a few cases of Bud Light when a sudden presence made me look up. Nick Innis was standing in the door with the toe of his cowboy boot hooked behind the other heel, staring at me with his sexy green eyes. Sexy, but strangely dead. 

“Hey,” I greeted him. He was looking me over pretty intensely and I wondered exactly what he wanted. 

“What’s going on with you and Welch?” he demanded.

“Louis and me? We’re friends,” I answered cheerfully. 

“Bet I know what kind of friends,” he growled. “Fucking hippie.”

“Yeah, isn’t he great?” I grinned at him over my shoulder as I hefted a beer box under my good arm. “Don’t worry, Nick. You and I are still friends too.”

Yes, I’d told Louis what my brother said. I didn’t turn it into anything, even though I easily could have by saying something like, “So, are you?” But instead I left it kind of open-ended and just reported what was said. I glanced at him from the corners of my eyes, willing him to say actually, he was. I felt horribly insecure, like he could read my thoughts right on my face. Pathetic thoughts: I really like you and I’m really scared. Instead, he gave me that thoughtful, serious brown-eyed look of his.

“I think it’s sad that people have to put labels on everything, so it’s all neatly sorted and sanitized for their protection.”

Holy fucking shit, I thought; and I must have unconsciously made a choking sound of disbelief, because Louis looked at me all the more serious and thoughtful.

“You’re the last person I ever thought would have to put things in a nice little pigeonhole.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I hated that crap he sometimes recited, like lines from some manifesto handed down by Hippie Central Command. My face had always been my downfall, broadcasting every emotion like a movie screen, and I had to fight it to remain blank and not show my disgust. Sometimes, I wanted to say, those labels and pigeonholes help people understand things. They help people define others so they don’t make complete asses out of themselves. Shit!

Despite the lack of pigeonholes and labels, Louis and I were getting to know a lot about each other. I was addicted to his taste, his smell; his kiss was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. I felt seventeen again, waiting for the next time I’d see him, smiling at odd moments through the day when I’d think about him. Getting a hard-on when he looked at me. We were learning little things about each other; he knew my love for George Harrison, how I couldn’t hear “My Sweet Lord” without crying because of the sadness of his death and the spirirtuality and beauty of his life; and I knew that when Louis was twelve, a neighbor boy taught him to masturbate in the basement, but he didn’t think it was a homosexual experience until I informed him that it sure as hell was. Little things that anyone you’re not fucking doesn’t give a shit about. I went on his veterinary rounds with him too. At first I just sat in the truck, bored and hung over, and waited; but I grew interested in his stories and explanations of the various animals he was visiting. He wasn’t a doctor, of course, so he didn’t go on emergencies or diagnose illnesses, but he did the leg work for Dr. Kounce, the messy stuff: dressing wounds, draining abscesses, administering vaccines. This last was mostly for the large animals that couldn’t be brought to the clinic, like horses and cows, but there was one llama on his rounds. I’d never seen one up close, only in a zoo, and I found myself holding its halter while Louis gave it a shot. He was cute, but he tried to eat my hair. Louis said he must have thought it was straw.

I couldn’t help but be sucked into it. It was better than those vet shows on Animal Planet because this was real stuff. I discovered new facets of Louis just by watching him, and soon I was helping him. No one could soothe a terrified horse like he could. Their bucking would stop and the white rings around their eyes disappeared when he gently put his hands on them, speaking to them a low, calm voice. He never tried to force them or hold them down, and I never saw a dog growl or a horse kick at him, even animals the owners themselves couldn’t manage. It wasn’t just the animals that benefitted from his magic touch; he had a rapport with the humans as well. Just like skittish horses, he knew how to calm their worried owners right down with his down-to-earth, steady personality. Watching him work, I was absolutely in awe of his natural abilities with both animals and people.

“Yeah,” he shrugged when I praised him in the Jeep as we drove on to the next cattle farm. He was so sexy in his jeans and hiking boots, with his navy blue animal clinic jacket that said his name over the breast pocket and his brown hair in a ponytail down his back. “For a long time I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, but when I started doing this, I realized it was my calling. I knew I had to go to vet school.”

“Will you have to cut your hair when you’re Dr. Welch?” I teased him. I loved his thick, wavy brown hair that fell to his shoulder blades and stuck to his face in little wisps when he was sweating.

“Never. And I might get another Harley, too.”

My days, that when I first came home had passed in an alcohol-soaked blur in front of the TV in my brother’s basement, had become very busy. Between Rachel and Will, my mom, Louis, and my niece and nephew on weekends, I had plans nearly every day of the week; and my nights were even busier. I usually didn’t go to bed till around four in the morning. It wasn’t meaningful work; I wasn’t using my brain. But I had to admit to myself that right now, my life in my hometown, bartending at a redneck dive, was more fun and more satisfying than any “important” job or assignment I’d ever had in the city. 

I had never imagined my sex life being this good. Sex is usually most exciting the first few times, but instead of getting used to it, Louis and I were more and more hot for each other as we got closer and more in tune sexually. Both of us had a lot of lost time to make up for. The last few years, sex had become a bore. It was something I did occasionally with Marc more out of duty than any real desire, and I clearly saw now that was because he didn’t excite me. Granted, most of the time he didn’t make an effort to, but even when he did, responding was work. My secret sex life of fantasies, web sites and masturbation was much more interesting than the reality of sleeping with Marc; anytime we did do it I had to concentrate on fantasizing about those things just to get off. 

Back in the city, I used to race home and go straight to the computer before Marc got there. I had a little secret circle of e-mail friends and cybersex partners that I’d linked up with through my internet trolling. I even had an anoymous e-mail account that Marc didn’t know about that I used for instant messaging and so forth after he went to bed. But now I barely even sat down at Andy’s computer. For one thing, there was no high-speed internet service out here and dial-up was too painfully slow for me to stand; for another I didn’t want my niece and nephew to stumble on some history file cache of gay porn; but the simple fact was, I just didn’t need it anymore. The peeing thing still turned me on. But there was no sexual void in my life that needed filling because I was completely obsessed with Louis’ body. Despite some things that never changed about living at home-- my mom roping me into unwanted chores and errands, crappy cell phone coverage, rednecks, the lack of decent night clubs-- to be totally honest, I was having a fucking blast.

To a point that made me feel guilty. When I moaned to Rachel that I wasn’t doing anything meaningful, she told me to stop whining. Somebody had to tend bar, didn’t they? When I was honest with myself, I knew I didn’t want to go back to the city, even if eventually I might have to. All my hipster friends and the stylish nightclubs we used to make appearances at seemed so… fake. When I was at the Wild Goose, I didn’t have to try to be witty or cool; I didn’t have to do anything but not fall over in a drunken stupor, and even if I did that, someone would make sure I got home okay. If I said something foolish when I was drunk or high, which I probably did more often than not, everyone else was either too drunk to remember it, or they were too busy worrying about the embarrassing things they had done and said to think about anything I did. Maybe they did have “Friends in Low Places” on the jukebox, and maybe someone did play it at least once a night. But it was still fun. 




The Good Old Boy Ch. 04



Still, I drew the line at “Achy Breaky Heart.” Everyone has their limits.

“The guy who decided to live without sex.”

I teased Louis as we fooled around in my bed on Sunday afternoon. As I’ve mentioned, the house was hardly ever empty, but Andrew had taken Kayley and Hunter to the birthday party of one of his friends’ sons, then on to their mother’s boyfriend’s; in fact Louis and I were supposed to be at the big barbecue ourselves right now, but instead we decided to take advantage of a rare break from car sex. What a relief to stretch out completely, and on soft, relatively clean sheets instead of rough, scratchy cargo bed carpet that left my elbows and knees permanently red and raw.

“Yeah, they kicked me out of the monastery, thanks to you.” 

He kissed me, squirming around under me to get even closer. God, he was amazing. I still hadn’t fucked him yet, but he loved my fingers in his ass; and he was beginning to crave more and deeper penetration. No matter how much I prepared him, there would be pain the first time, so I wasn’t in a big hurry. There’s a big difference between fingers and a real cock-- namely the initial penetration of the head. That was going to shock him. It still did me, even now, for a second until I relaxed. The idea of being his first made me weak in the knees, but what terrified me, was not being his last. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him to some other guy. But I knew exactly how it was when you first came out of the closet-- if indeed he was doing that. You want to fuck everything that’s out there. Granted, there wasn’t much out there; I was pretty much the only act in town for the moment. And for that I was glad.

He roughly pushed me down to the bed. With any other man I couldn’t have stood for that-- I had too many control issues-- but I liked it when Louis got forceful. There was no submission involved because he wasn’t trying to dominate me, it was more playful than anything else. We used to wrestle when I was in fifth grade. He and Andrew used to hold me down and torture me until I cried, then they‘d laugh at me and call me a sissy. Probably the root of a lot of my issues, thanks a lot. 

Now, though, it was hot. We were backwards with my head hanging off the foot of the bed slightly; the blood rushed to my head and made me a little lightheaded, so the room spun while he fucked me. Not kinky, but a darker shade of vanilla. I’m sure my eyes were all the way back in my head as he pounded into me, sweat drenching us both, my hand on the back on his neck, wrapped in his long hair that dragged my face and my other arm spread off to the side to keep the cast from nailing him. We were both intent and silent except for our hard breath, caught up in the waves of pleasure that washed over us.

I don’t have any idea why my eyes flew open and went to the door. Later I could never remember hearing a sound. But they did, and because I was upside down with my head hanging back, brain scrambled in a sexual haze, for a second I didn’t register what I saw. 

My brother Andrew, standing in the door we’d carelessly left open, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

All this only took less than three seconds. My body froze and Louis noticed the change; he impatiently paused in his thrusting and looked up and for a long, horrifying moment we all stared: Louis and me at Andrew, he at us. His best friend since seventh grade and his little brother, naked, sweaty, fucking. And then he turned around and was gone.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered, but I held my hand up to my mouth to cover the beginings of shocked, involuntary giggles. The expression on Louis’ face was absolutely indescribable. He lost his erection, pulled away from me and rolled over on his back. Apparently when he said he’d like to be watched doing the deed, my brother wasn’t the audience he had in mind.

I rose up on my elbow and put my hand on his smooth chest. The sweat was drying on him, leaving him cold, and his expression was dazed. “I’ll go talk to him, Louis.”

“No.” He shook his head to clear it. “I should do it. You stay here.”

He went into the bathroom and cleaned up, put his clothes back on. I watched him leave the room without moving. Well shit. It took more than a little coitus interruptus for me to go limp without getting off. It damn near took a fatal accident. So while Louis was upstairs, trying to explain to my brother what was going on, I lazily jerked off. Hell, I didn’t know what was going on myself, so what else was I supposed to do?

Eventually I wiped off all the sweat and lube and come with a wet washcloth and got dressed. I had no idea what kind of conversation Louis and Andrew were having upstairs. My brother didn’t exactly embrace alternative lifestyles; he wasn’t riding the PFLAG float in any gay pride parades. But really, despite being somewhat of an asshole in general, he had never had a major problem with my being gay. Maybe smoking a lot of weed really did open your mind, as well as make you drive to the store at one in the morning for a bag of Doritos.

I never did learn exactly what was said. When I finally reluctantly went upstairs, the two of them were sitting at the kitchen table smoking weed and laughing about something inane, just like they’d been doing for as long as I could remember. I walked up behind Louis’ chair and stood there without saying a word, my eyes going between them. Andrew was looking up pointedly at the ceiling, loudly humming a tune; and Louis glanced over his shoulder at me, grinned, and reached behind him and gave the back of my knee a quick squeeze. After that, everything was normal. My brother never mentioned the subject again, but the next time Louis came down to the Goose on a booty run, instead of meeting at the storage shed, we met at my house and slipped quietly down to the basement while my brother slept. He couldn’t stay the whole night, he still had to fuck and run, but at least it was in a bed; and yet thanks to fond, nostalgic memories of our passionate moments in the back of his dirty Jeep under a hairy blanket, the smell of horse liniment will forever be a turn-on.

“What are you going to do when you get out of vet school?”

Sitting on the hood of Louis’ Jeep, behind a stand of trees at the bottom of a hill, I watched as he watered his huge, lush pot plants with a special concoction he brewed in his kitchen. He told his grandma it was herbal tea, but she was wise to him. His two mutts, Kato and Mr. Peabody, followed him devotedly. He had the mangiest, most pathetic group of pets I’d ever seen, all abandoned or abused by former owners, who would’ve been put to sleep by the clinic if not for him. In addition to the dogs there was also a geriatric pony, Charlie, who shambled around the barn lot with his ears and tail and bottom lip hanging. The only time he perked up is when he saw Louis, who’d saved his sorry hide from the dog food factory.

“Jeff-- Dr. Kounce-- wants me to work for him and eventually make me a partner, and then when he retires, I’ll try to buy the clinic. Not too many new vets get the opportunity to step into a ready-made practice like that.”

“Oh.” I brooded, staring at him from behind my sunglasses. I was every bit as slavish as the two dogs; I just didn’t have a tail to wag every time his eyes turned my way. “You’d be pretty stupid to walk away from that.”

“What are you saying?” he asked abruptly. He turned around and looked straight at me, and I froze, regretting not thinking before I opened my mouth, as usual.

“Oh…” I tried to give a bored, self-mocking laugh, but in the end, I was more muttering. “I just have this fantasy of you and I running off to the city together.”

“Sean, for once in your life, instead of running away from things, why don’t you let yourself be happy where you are?”

I sighed and fidgeted impatiently with his all-too-keen observations. “Don’t you ever get bored around here, Louis? I mean, hanging out with my brother, going to places like the Wild Goose? Wouldn’t you like to be able to go out to restaurants and clubs where nobody’s wearing camouflage?”

“There’s not much to do around here,” he admitted. 

“I’d love to take you out to a real club. Get you dressed up, show you off to my friends, you know, like a real gay scene. I miss that. I miss having coffee, something other than Maxwell House, you know? I miss hanging out with my friends.” I could just imagine it. My friends in the city would trip on themselves drooling over Louis, the hot small town boy, who was as far from an ignorant redneck as anyone could be. 

“Let me ask you a question.”

“What?”

“How many of these friends of yours have called you since you came home?”

I made a face. 

“Not many?”

“Actually, none.”

“My point exactly.” Louis let out a laugh. “And here, does a day go by when your phone’s not ringing off the hook? These friends of yours, the ones that haven’t called? They don’t give a damn about you. Here, there are a lot of people that care about you. Andy, your mom, your friend Rachel--”

“You?”

I didn’t meant to say it out loud, but I did. I froze, but Louis just gave a casual shrug that made my heart sink.

“Yeah, sure. Listen, I’m not trying to argue with you, I get bored sometimes too. I’m just trying to tell you, there are more important things than clubs and coffee shops. Like family, for one, and real friends. What exactly is it you want to do, anyway? I know you wrote for a magazine, but what do you want to accomplish in life?”

“Oh… I don’t know. Write a few novels, get a college degree, find the right man and settle down…”

“You can do all that here.” He realized all the sudden what he’d said and he flushed in a split-second panic, but he tried not to let it show, racing to cover it up. “You’ve got plenty of time to write and you showed me your ideas, they’re good. And there’s nothing wrong with the state college here, is there? You’ve got a job and a place to live here, which you don’t have in the city.”

“Yeah.” I nodded and we stopped talking about it, but I didn’t forget that momentary look in his eyes when he said I could find the right guy and settle down right here. I knew that look of panic because it was the same way I always felt when I was with him. Terrified because I was so in love with him, and I didn’t want him to know it. What was he so scared of himself? And that single question was a just another last nail in the coffin of my wanting to ever go back to the city. 

Yes, it was boring here. It was a small town. Everyone was always in everyone else’s business; there wasn’t any decent place to buy clothes other than the local Farm and Home Supply; there were no clubs, no vanilla mochaccinos, no pizza delivery. But there was also no traffic, no parking problem, no pollution. There was no need to “get away from it all”; all I had to do was walk outside and look up at the clean blue arc of the sky, with no buildings to block it out, and it was easy to get grounded. Sometimes I’d lie in bed at night and it was so quiet, with no dull roar of cars and distant sirens, only the chirping of crickets, and so completely dark, that at first I couldn’t sleep; but now the darkness and silence surrounded me like a warm blanket. Louis was right. I was learning he usually was. I was almost 30, and I was starting to realize something. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.

Final chapter coming up…



The Good Old Boy Ch. 05



Not one person had mentioned my 30th birthday. Not Rachel, not Andy or the kids, not Louis, not even my mom. Not a word about a party or presents or anything. Granted, I'd been whining and making a big deal out of turning 30, threatening them with violence if anyone dared get me black balloons or even mention the words "over the hill"; in fact I said I didn't want to celebrate at all. But what we say and what we mean are not always the same. I didn't need the banks to shut down, but at least they could've said something about it.

Anyway, I had to work that night. It was a Saturday and I'd be working the whole bar alone until 2 am, as usual. I usually had a few beers during my shift, lots of customers bought me drinks; but I couldn't get drunk, not with so much to stay on top of, so instead before work I had a few hits from my stash that Louis gave me free of charge. One of the perks of sleeping with someone who grew his own. It made me more mellow and a little giggly, more tolerant of the usual crowd of idiots. 

Still, even a little high, I was pissed off when I drove down to the Goose, brooding about why everyone had decided to ignore my birthday. Shit, they didn't really believe me when I asked them not to make a fuss, did they? Birthdays are the one day of the year when it's all about you. Surely my friends and family knew me well enough to know that since one day was all I got, I sure as hell wanted to milk it for all it was worth.

The new sign the Lakes had just gotten, one of the big yellow ones you can put letters on, was blinking and flashing. As I got close enough, it occurred to me to read the newest message, and it said in big black letters, Happy 30th Birthday Sean. The parking lot already was full of cars and it was only 6 pm; when I walked through the door, bewildered, there was a big shout of "Surprise!"

The bar was decorated with balloons and streamers and a Happy Birthday banner; the tables were pushed together and there was a cake and a buffet and even some wrapped presents. Everyone was there. The Lakes. All the regulars, including Nick and all his friends I'd gone to school with since kindergarten. My mom, Andrew and the kids, his friends and their kids, Rachel and Tom, and Louis, all grinning at me as I blinked, speechless, but laughing. I got a kick out of seeing how Rachel squirmed with Tom and her ex-boyfriend Ryan in the same room after what had happened a few weeks ago.

"Are you surprised, Uncle Sean?" my niece Kayley jumped up and down, throwing herself at me. I lifted her up in my arms and hugged her. She was very proud to have kept the secret so well.

"Yeah, baby. Stunned."

"You really thought we weren't going to do anything, didn't you?" My mom hugged me. Carla Lake was tending bar while I opened my presents and had a piece of the cake my mom made, my favorite, carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. It was a really great party and I was so surprised and touched that they'd cared enough to plan out such an elaborate scheme. No one had given me a birthday party in years, not since my first year of college, when I turned 19 and my friends in the dorm surprised me. There were so many people there I barely had a second to talk to Louis out of anyone else's earshot.

"I'll give you your present later," he whispered, giving me that bone-melting grin of his, the one that turned me all to jelly and made my dick give a jump in my pants.

Eventually the party wound down, all the kids had to leave, and my mom took the remaining food and cake back to Andy's; the Lakes left too, leaving me to handle the bar full of rowdy drunks. Louis stayed, shooting the shit with old schoolmates at the end of the bar, even though they weren't friends back then. None of that really mattered these days, though. Out of the edge of my awareness, at one point I noticed him go to the jukebox, and the song that he played was "Lola" by the Kinks. I felt my whole body flood with warmth. That was the song that was playing the very first time we kissed, in the front seat of my brother's old Mustang he inherited from our dad. I glanced up and our eyes met, and over all the heads, we shared a smile.

What a romantic.

The night was pretty wild. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally locked the door behind the last customer to leave. Louis was sitting at the bar finishing his beer while I did the close-out, waiting for me, even though he hadn't mentioned any plans. I assumed we were going back to my place and I was getting worked up just thinking about it, wondering what my present could be. 

"We better go." 

"Okay." Louis nodded and went toward the door, but I caught him before he got there and grabbed him, pushing him back against the pool table so he was sitting on the edge, his inner thighs resting along the outside of mine . My hands went around his back and I gently tugged his hair free of the ponytail, burying my hands in its silky warmth while our tongues met and played. I let out a little groan when he pulled me against him and slowly ground my hips into his. Breaking away, I grinned through the haze of desire growing between us. 

"Oh, I like this." 

I knew we had to get out of here before the sherriff's deputy made the nightly rounds, checking to make sure the bars were closed on time. I knew this wasn't the time or place for it; but Louis was so fucking irresistible to me, I couldn't stop. Throwing my knee up on the edge of the pool table, I pressed him back until he was lying flat against the green felt, with the Budweiser table lamp spotlighting his face, his hair fanning out and pooling around his shoulders. He smiled up at me and my breath caught in my throat. Our eyes held. God, I loved him so much. He was amazing. I shifted my weight to my good arm, hand braced behind his head, and our mouths locked while his hand slid up over my ass and squeezed my cheek.

"I fucking knew it."

My knees went weak as the shock whipped through me. My heart pounded with surprise. Quickly Louis and I scrambled up and I faced who was standing behind me-- thank God. It was Nick; his arms were crossed and he was standing there in his good old boy cowboy boots, scowling at us with his face as dark as a thundercloud.

"I knew you two were fucking," Nick repeated with angry triumph. "I could just tell."

The startled thumping of my heart had receded, and while Louis looked between us with amused curiosity, I suddenly smiled. Reaching out, I grabbed Nick and put my arm around his neck, pulling him in close; and with my other arm hooked over Louis' shoulder, I leaned over and kissed Nick's sweet, pouty lips, sliding my tongue into his mouth. He didn't respond, but he didn't stop me. I could feel Louis' erection kicking against my leg so I knew he was okay with this. More than okay. When I drew back my eyes met Louis' and a look passed between us, a question and an answer, before I met his open mouth with my tongue, sharing the taste of Nick's saliva with him.

"So Nick," I said softly when I pulled away from Louis, the three of us very close, with me the link in the chain. His green eyes were searing between Louis' and my faces, instinctively catching our drift, the way an animal senses meaning from the tone of its master's voice. "Maybe Louis and I could come over to your place and have a few drinks, maybe a little smoke?"

"Sure," Nick said in his oddly toneless voice. "If you can give me a ride."

"I need to lock up still."

Louis stood up from the edge of the pool table and pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. "I'll give you a ride Nick, Sean can meet us over there. You'll have to show me where you live." He looked at me for approval and I nodded.

"See you there in a few minutes."

It was my birthday, but this gift was for Louis. I wanted to rock his world like nothing he'd ever known before. The exhibitionist thing didn't give me the same charge it did him, but I'd been looking out for the opportunity to set it up for him ever since he'd told me about it. And Nick-- he liked to watch. He'd told me so the first night we got together after drinking at the Goose. He was the perfect third party in this little game. Drunk, horny, a little kinky, up for anything, with no pesky hangups to get in the way.

The Jeep was in front of Nick's trailer when I pulled up. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and walked in, with no real idea of what to expect from here on out. Uncharted territory. They were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, passing a joint. While Louis got me a beer out of the fridge, Nick handed me the fatty and I dropped down in the middle as I inhaled it into my lungs, holding my breath.

"Damn, that's good," I breathed out, coughing a little. Louis and I smiled at each other while Nick kind of sat quietly, observing us. I wondered what they'd been talking about before I got there. "Well," I announced glumly as I slumped back against the green velour couch between them, "I'm not twenty anymore."

"No, you're better." Louis reached out and ran his hand through my blonde hair, picturing it the way it used to be. "I always hated it black. Glad you're back to natural."

"Yeah, baby. All natural." I wiggled lower so my jeans came off my hips and showed the blonde hair on my stomach, disappearing into the waist of my boxers just barely visible. I was wearing my brother's jeans; he outweighed me by about 10 pounds and so the jeans sat low on my hips, faded and comfortable, sexy. Louis' finger lazily ran across the exposed skin, into my belly button, and I shivered as his fingers raked gently through the hair right where it spread out into my groin.

Having Nick sitting there was almost like undressing in front of the family pet. His eyes moved back and forth between us, but he didn't say anything unless we spoke to him directly. Louis and I almost forgot he was there. He had turned the TV to his favorite satellite station, the softcore porn channel. I watched Louis' face for a reaction when the obligatory scantily clad blonde with big tits came on the screen; he didn't show any interest until a cute blonde delivery guy knocked at her door in brown shorts.

"Shit!" Louis' face lit up. "He looks just like you."

"He really does," Nick echoed with his eyes glued to the screen. 

With some interest the three of us watched the TV. This was cable, so there was no penetration shown; it was mainly back views, ass cheeks, and lots of tit shots. Just enough to whet your appetite for the real stuff.

"I want to see some dick," I complained, shifting around on the couch cushion. Louis' hand was resting on my thigh and he gave it a little squeeze, smiling when he noticed the bulge in my crotch becoming more obvious.

"We might be able to arrange that."

Every time I finished a beer he'd gotten up immediately and brought me another one. I was pretty drunk on top of being really, really stoned. What was going to happen was inevitable and I wanted to enjoy it as much as Louis. But at the moment, I had business to take care of. I lurched a little unsteadily as I got to my feet.

"I need to pee."

All the sudden I felt Louis' hand close around my arm. "Do you now," he said in a low, husky voice that shot up my back and made my nipples hard. "How bad?"

"Really bad."

Louis knew me. He knew I routinely waited to go to the bathroom until the very last minute, holding it until it hurt. Part of this was laziness; but he knew I really did it because that slight pain and pressure turned me on. So when he took this moment to make his move, he knew exactly what point I was at; he knew that I couldn't wait much longer.

His hand loosened and I headed down the hallway to Nick's bathroom, but before I got the door closed, all the sudden Nick and Louis were there with me. I didn't know what was happening. Before I could figure it out Louis was behind me and his arms wrapped around me so that he was holding my arms up against my chest, not hard, but tight enough that I couldn't immediately break away. I could have gotten free if I'd tried, but I was so confused it didn't occur to me to even struggle. Especially not when I felt his rock-hard cock pressing into me from behind.

"What are you doing?" I whimpered, very childlike-- helpless against my instant, pounding erection. In the background Nick waited curiously, watching.

"You want this," Louis said softly in my ear. "You need it. But I know you can't let yourself do it; you've got too much shame built up. So I'm just going to have to make you."

"Oh God." My heart started to thump in my chest with a wild mixture of panic and excitement. "I can't, Louis. No way."

"Yes you can. You have to, because I'm not letting you go until you do."

I couldn't breathe and it had nothing to do with his arms around my chest. I let out a moan. I knew Nick was there but I didn't care anymore. "Jesus," I panted. "Louis, there's just no way I can do it. You just don't know..." Closing my eyes, I admitted everything: "I used to wet my bed, Louis. Like a lot longer than most kids, until about the sixth grade..."

"I know," he said calmly.

"What?" I gasped. My knees buckled and he held me up.

"I've always known. Don't you remember how often I spent the night at your house? You were a kid. It's time to get over that now. "

I couldn't believe how nonchalant he was about what amounted to my deepest, most horrifying secret. Of all the things I kept secret this was the one I had absolutely never told a living soul. In about a minute I was going to start crying; I had to piss so bad I thought I was going to explode, and yet my dick was hard, harder than it had ever been in my whole life. 

"Oh, fuck," I choked, almost sobbing with a strange mixture of pain, need and secret, shamed excitement. "Louis, please..."

"Please what?" His voice was soothing in my ear. "It's okay, baby."

"My shoes," I whispered, closing my eyes. I was powerless to stop this, and in the deepest part of my psyche I loved it. Not powerless because of Louis holding my arms, but because of myself. I was on a runaway locomotive here. He was right. I needed this more than I'd ever needed anything. "They cost a lot of money."

"Nick, take his shoes off."

They'd planned this. That much was obvious even in my current state. Nick came around to my front and sat down on the edge of the tub, pulling off my Birkenstock suede ankle boots; and then he lifted his hand and gently ran it over the hard ridge in my jeans. Oh yes. They had this all figured out before I even got here. Fucking Louis Welch. Three weeks ago he'd never even touched a man, but not for one second was he innocent. From that first electric touch, despite his inexperience he led and I followed. I used to think he was just a shiftless hippie, but I knew now that his long hair and laid-back attitude hid a resolve as vast and deep as an ocean. Animals felt it. People felt it. He was a force to be reckoned with. Instead of the mellow dope head I thought I knew all these years, I had discovered the truth about Louis that even he didn't realize himself. He was a sexual powerhouse. He made my world tremble.

"Come on," Louis breathed in my ear. "Let it go, Sean. You don't have any choice anymore, do you. You know you need it. It's okay, just let it go, it'll feel so good..."

"Fuck," I whispered, whimpering like a baby. I never really decided to do it; it just happened. One minute I was standing there hurting like I was going explode and then it was just happening, Jesus Christ I was pissing all over myself, the warm wetness was pouring out of my hard aching dick, blooming and spreading in a dark stain on the pale denim of my brother's jeans, flooding down my leg to pool in a wet, shameful puddle on the drab tile of Nick's bathroom floor. Oh shit, oh fuck it felt so fucking good, so good and so bad all at the same time, I was almost crying, the heat of the piss, the smell, the relief and the intense excitement and the shame of peeing my pants. Dimly I was aware of the other two; Louis stood there holding me, whispering in my ear words I didn't hear, and Nick sat on the edge of the bathtub watching the whole thing with a faintly surprised look on his face. But really, they were hardly even a part of this. It was all about me facing my dark side, struggling with my inhibitions. What I could never let myself do, no matter how bad I wanted to, I was doing. Oh God, oh God. It was done.

A strange sound came out of my throat, a little whimpering moan, and I was panting like a dog. My heart thumped in my ears. If Louis hadn't been holding me up I would've fallen down. I was beyond arousal; I was at the edge of orgasm. When I tugged my arm to free it, Louis let it go, but he caught it again when I reached down to give myself the little push I needed to go all the way.

"Oh no, not this time, baby."

He held on to me for a few moments until I'd calmed down enough to straighten up, look over my shoulder at him, and laugh slightly. The smell of piss, while not strong, was apparent. Then he let me go and reached around my waist to unbutton the wet jeans. Nick peeled them off me and threw them into the tub along with my soaked underwear and socks. 

"Was that my birthday present?"

"One of them," Louis answered with a lazy grin. "Nick, do you have a towel."

Nick sat down on the toilet seat and watched Louis and me as Louis cleaned me up with the damp towel, peeling my shirt off; he was still dressed but it didn't take long for me to fix that. Like I said, I almost forgot Nick was there; but Louis was very aware of him. He kept opening his eyes, glancing out of the corner of them with a very intent look on his face. I wondered if he wanted to sample Nick himself. I was so far gone with lust, as well as being drunk and very stoned, that I didn't have a crystal clear grasp of what was happening. Before I knew it we were all in Nick's bedroom and Louis and I rolled into his king-sized bed, groping and tasting each other greedily. Opening my eyes, I looked past Louis' shoulder as Nick flipped on the light and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning close to us.

I reached out and ran my hand down his chest, catching on the hem of his shirt. "Hey Nick," I said hoarsely. "Wanna take this off?"

He didn't say a word, but his eyes burned into mine as he stripped off his clothes. I had no idea if his joining in was part of Louis' agenda; I glanced at him, but he was staring at Nick. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little threatened. Nick had a gorgeous, whipcord body with defined six-pack abs and not an ounce of fat, all graced by an absolutely beautiful penis that stood straight up against his lower belly and demanded acknowledgement. I was the only man Louis had ever been with; as much as I wanted to keep it that way, I couldn't deny him the experience that was before him now. I'd done a couple of threesomes before. I knew how to share. 

"Is this okay?" I whispered to Louis.

He shot me that quick grin of his. "I dunno, is it?"

Nick was pausing on his knees above us like he wasn't sure what to do. I pulled him down and kissed him while Louis watched intently. They skirted each other at first. Usually one person is the focus of a three-way, and since it was my birthday I got to be the meat in the sandwich, so to speak. Also, they weren't sure of each other but they were both familiar with me, and so I was on my side with one of them facing me and the other behind me, touching me all over, hands and hot mouths, hard flesh and sweat-slick skin everywhere. Oh God. I twisted in their teasing, tortured with pleasure.

Louis got to his knees and reached over me to run his hand over Nick's hot body. 

That's when something weird happened to me: my gut filled with a horrible churning. One of the things I liked most about myself was that I was never, ever jealous. Jealousy made me sick. I hadn't felt this way... in so long I could barely remember. Wait, that was a lie, I remembered it clearly, the gnawing feeling I got when Bryan Mitchell talked to anyone but me. I'd killed that part of myself. But it wasn't because I wasn't a jealous person; it was just, until now, I didn't care enough about anyone to ever be jealous. I made sure of it. Well, dammit, I didn't want to share. I didn't like seeing them together, I didn't like it one bit. 




The Good Old Boy Ch. 05



It must have showed on my face, because Louis suddenly stopped and pulled away from Nick; his eyes met mine and he returned to the other side of the bed, facing me. 

"Hey."

I swallowed the acid feeling in the back of my throat and tried to smile. "Hi."

"I want you to fuck me. Now."

"Are you sure?" I whispered as my heart started to pound in my throat. 

"Positive."

How could I refuse that? We were both shaking as I came back from the bathroom with the only lube I could find, some baby oil. Not that great, but it had to do. Desperate times and all. In the meantime Nick had slid up toward the head of the bed where he could take everything in. Without words, I guided Louis onto his back. His cock was bright red and and heavy with excitement against his belly and I could feel it jerk as I drew it into my mouth. Louis' head went to the side and he grasped the comforter in handfuls while I worked my magic on him, using my mouth, my tongue, my fingers, everything, to get him as close to the edge as I could without pushing him over. Foremost in my mind was making it as easy for him as I could. In my concentration I kept forgetting about Nick again; every now and then I'd glance up and be startled at the sight of him watching. Louis was aware of his presence every second though, and it really turned him on, making him even more excited and responsive than usual. I wasn't sure he was even going to last, so I pulled back from him and slicked myself up.

"Look at me," I demanded harshly. I needed acknowledgement from him. I needed his eyes and every part of him focused on me now. "You remember that little speech you gave the other day about labels and pigeonholes?"

"Yeah," Louis answered somewhat puzzled, but distracted from what I was about to do. It's not easy, that first time-- spreading your legs, opening yourself up to be taken.

I took his knees and pushed them up to his chest. "It was all bullshit." And then I pushed forward. Very slowly at first. For a moment his body resisted; I could see the strain on his face as he struggled to relax and let me in. Even with all our practice there was a span of time when I was sure it wasn't going to happen. Then all the sudden it did and my head was inside him. He gasped at the shock of the penetration.

"Oh, Jesus Christ." I let out a low cry, breaking into sweat from the strain of remaining still with my dick in what felt like a vise. Slowly, he loosened up and bit by bit I moved forward, waiting for the discomfort to pass before I continued. As much as we'd shared over the last few weeks, we'd been holding back from each other. I was holding back my feelings for him; he was holding back the admission that he truly was gay. He carefully avoided the word and all its variations. And because he couldn't say the G-word, I couldn't say that other word, the L-word. And I couldn't let him make me come. 

It was all going to happen tonight. Right now. He'd helped me do what I couldn't do on my own, and so I was going to help him to say the words he needed to say. And it was all going to happen with Nick watching, right here in his bed. We were all going to get everything we wanted tonight.

All the sudden Louis stiffened and let out a sound, but this time it wasn't in pain, it was pleasure. I'd finally hit his hot spot deep inside and with one swift motion I was completely buried in his ass, balls-deep. It felt incredible but I needed more. I needed the emotional connection, not just the physical. I needed from him what I'd been running from for most of my life.

"It was bullshit, wasn't it?"

"Sean," he groaned, reaching for me. 

"Why can't you say it, Louis?" I whispered, dropping my little act. Tears, real actual tears, stung the corners of my eyes. I was begging but I didn't care. "Just tell me you're gay, baby. I need to hear you say it."

"Okay," he whispered, his eyes rolling back as my hips slowly began to move. When you're getting off, it makes it so much easier to say things. "Baby, I'm sorry I haven't said it before, you know I'm gay. Oh my God!"

The intensity was frightening. It built so fast-- quicker than anything I'd ever felt in my life. I never even thought about pulling out the instant before I came, the way I normally did, so I could control my own orgasm; it was too good. I was lost in him, heart and mind and soul, and when I came it was all him, I never touched myself. I never needed to. He owned my orgasm now too, that I always kept for myself and never gave to anyone. When I pitched forward onto his chest he was holding me, I could've stayed there forever but I knew he was close himself, so I pulled out quickly and grabbed the nearest piece of clothing to wipe up, and then I went to finish him with my mouth.

Nick was already there. It surprised me to see him and I pulled back and watched. He wasn't very good at it; I had to grin when he gagged himself twice in a row. Louis had never been like that. From the very first time he took it all the way, expertly, like it was instinct, never hurting me with his teeth. I could see by his face that Nick wasn't doing so well, so I decided to help him out. For most people it takes practice, and a little instruction, to do it right.

"Slow down," I whispered, putting my hand on his sweaty back. "Take it easy. Put your tongue up in the back of your throat, that keeps you from gagging. And breathe through your nose. When he gets ready to come, use your hand, pull back if you don't want to swallow."

Louis glanced up at grinned at me; and when I could tell by the way his head whipped back and his jaw fell open that Nick was getting it right, I moved up to him, stretched against his side. I used my teeth and my tongue on all his pleasure points, his nipples and his ear lobes and his armpits, and his hands went into my hair, pulling me down to kiss him. Maybe it was Nick blowing him, but it was my eyes he was looking into, and when the climax hit him I saw his brown eyes get wide and glazed and I tasted his urgent cries and felt the way his body shuddered in big jerks

Pulling away so our lips were a breath apart, I looked into his honey-dipped eyes while the orgasm washed over him, Nick's hand stroking him through it. "I love you."

His eyes rolled back in his head and he managed to whisper, "I love you too."

When it stopped, we looked at each other and laughed, and I moved down to where Nick was and gently nudged him back. With my tongue I licked up all Louis' smooth sweet come from his stomach; there was some of mine still smeared around his hole from where it dripped out, and I licked that up too, swallowing it all while Nick watched curiously, his big cock sticking out in front of him. Then, I grinned at Nick and pushed him back against the bed.

Louis and I had fun with him, taking our time over his hard, chiseled, gorgeous body. We should have been focused on him and his pleasure, but we weren't, we were focused on each other and he was more like a delicious meal laid out for us to enjoy. Greedily I watched Louis suck that big, gorgeous meat; but I was done, I couldn't get hard again right now. I wasn't twenty anymore after all. 

"You're so good at that," I told him, admiring his technique up close. I knew how good it felt, but I didn't get many chances to really observe. He grinned at me, running his tongue over Nick's big heart-shaped head, then he offered it to me like it was a peace pipe. We traded back and forth a couple of times and I must say, Nick handled it very well, better than I ever could. He lasted for a long time, but eventually he did come, and Louis and I licked it off playfully, kissing and letting it string between our mouths in a long sticky thread.

"That's two you owe me, junior," I told him. I knew Nick wouldn't get my Star Wars reference but Louis did and he laughed appreciatively. 

When we finally all three collapsed, I was in the middle. We turned off the lights and pulled the covers up, and it wasn't long before Nick rolled over his side with his back to me, and fell into a deep sleep untroubled by any thoughts of guilt or regret over anything he'd done, tonight or any other time. Louis and I held each other in silence for quite awhile.

"What'd you think?" Finally I nodded my head backward at Nick's sleeping outline.

"He's fucking beautiful. Like a... panther or something." Louis grinned and gave me a kiss. "It was great, baby. But I think at least for awhile, I want to keep you for myself."

"Good, because that's what I have in mind." I closed my eyes, breathing in his smell. Sweat and sex and come and the sharp herbal scent of the pot we'd smoked earlier. At last the air was clear between us; there was nothing unspoken, writhing under the surface, itching to be said. We'd said everything that needed said. Or at least, most of it.

"Louis, I talked to Andy this week. He wants me to stay, partner with him in the garage."

"Yeah?" he said, stroking my chest with his fingertips. We were both getting a little sleepy after all the exertion. "You're a great mechanic. As good as your dad."

"Think so?" That was the ultimate compliment. "Well-- this is what Dad wanted. And... I've decided to do it. You're right, there's no reason for me to go back to the city. Andrew said I could keep living there, but I really think I need my own place."

"Oh really? Well... you know, down by the pond on my grandma's property, she has a trailer set up, she hasn't rented it in awhile and it needs some work, but she might be willing to rent it to you pretty cheap. And, well, it's right there, so I could, you know, stay there too."

I was stunned; I never expected Louis to suggest we move in together. I never expected to want to do that, ever again. But I did, more than anything. 

"What will you tell your grandma?"

"The truth, I guess." He shrugged under the covers. "I'm going to have to tell my family eventually, so it might as well be sooner than later. I don't know how they'll take it, especially my dad, but it's got to be done."

I wanted to smother him with grateful kisses, but the tears in the corner of my eyes convinced me not to move. "You know... Louis, even if you and I aren't... if something happens and it doesn't work out, you'll always be a part of our family."

"Yeah, I know," he whispered.

"Now," I added, "I just need to figure out one more thing."

"What's that?" He rose up on one elbow, and I reached up and brought his mouth down to cover mine.

"What I'm going to tell Andrew about why I came home without his favorite jeans."

The End.

***

Thanks TH.



The Good Old Boy



Grinning, I glanced up and met his eyes; he was watching me with almost casual interest, like he was waiting to see what I’d do. But his cock wasn’t playing it so cool. It sprung up into my face as I freed it and licked it from top to bottom like an ice cream cone on a hot day. Drippy, delicious, cherry vanilla, my favorite flavor. Grabbing his hip with my good hand, I pulled him forward so he was deep in my mouth, sliding over my tongue. I wanted him over the edge, losing his detachment. I wanted him to shake all over, the way I was, smelling him and tasting him. It had been so long since I’d been with somebody other than Marcus and he had many weird hangups about sex that preventing him from enjoying a good old American blowjob. I needed proof I was still able to make a hot man want me-- and a straight one was even better. I put on a show for him; made it deep, made it noisy, made him watch me as I licked his balls and rolled them with my tongue. Swaet broke out all over him. I could smell it. His hands gradually tightened on my shoulders and his breath speeded up, and then all the sudden he was making this sound in his throat, a low, breathless grunt like, Oh, oh. I pulled back, letting his cock flop wetly against his belly.

“Do you want to come?” I whispered.

“Oh yes, oh god.”

“Then say my name.”

“Jimmy, oh yes Jimmy, oh…” He bit back that last breath as I closed my eyes and concentrated on his thrusts, sliding him deeper and deeper. His body bucked against me and felt a shudder go through him as he caught the back of my head in his hands and came in a hot, intensely salty burst. I pulled back before the spurts stopped, letting some of it drip on to his stomach.

He collapsed against the back of the couch, but I stood up and reached down, lifting his chin with my hand, making him watch while I unzipped my cords and pulled my own cock out of my boxers. With my good hand I scooped the come off his stomach and reached down and spread it over my hard-on, using it to lubricate my palm. His eyes were bright, intense, while he watched me masturbate standing in front of him; his hand reached up and touched my hip, holding it, as I rested one knee next to his on the edge of the couch.

Tingling waves washed over me and I quickly hit the point of no return where it’s like an explosion in your gut and you think you’re going to fall flat on your face, you fly on the wings of angels for just a second, fireworks blind you behind your eyelids and then, boom, it’s over. Sheepishly I opened my eyes; I grabbed his t-shirt from the couch and wiped up all the spunk and pulled my pants back up before I sank down on the couch next to Nick while my breathing returned to normal. 

The next thing he did surprised me. One minute he was sitting there watching me with his green eyes like searchlights, and then all the sudden he slid his arm around my neck and he was kissing me with his incredible lips, slipping his tongue inside my mouth. I froze in shock for a split second. He was actually kissing me. But then I kissed back, teasing him with my tongue.

“Hey Nick…” I whispered in his ear, nibbling at it.

“Hm?” he breathed, and there was a little pause while he waited for me to say something really profound or tender.

“I can fix that car door for you.”