Joaquin 2.0 -- Part 5 Copyright © 2024 by Stimle (stimle@yahoo.com). (MM, Auth)

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Joaquin's attempt to re-take control of his life takes an unexpected turn and leads to a shocking realization.

Although I'd been expecting it, the rumble of the garage door startled me, and I jumped. I glanced at the clock on the microwave and saw it was almost 10:30 p.m.

"Why are you so nervous?" my mom asked as she brushed by me on her way to the refrigerator.

I let out a long breath and pushed my hands through my hair. "It feels like I haven't talked to him in ages. I haven't even seen him since I've been back."

"Oh honey." She cupped my cheek with one hand, and I found myself leaning into her gentle touch. "It's only been a couple of days." She gave my cheek another caress then patted my hair down. She opened the fridge and pulled out her lunch. She'd been working midnights in the ER this week and was getting ready to leave for her shift.

"I know," I said sheepishly. "It sounds dumb when I say it out loud." And it did. For years, Rundy and I had talked, messaged, or FaceTimed at least once a day, but for the past eighteen weeks he'd been training at the fire academy in Socorro and there'd been times when we'd gone days without talking. It was bad enough I missed his graduation because of finals, but a day before I got back from school, his crew had been dispatched to help fight a wildfire in the Cibola National Forest and I hadn't had so much as a text from him. Even Dad hadn't heard from him, and they were stationed at the same fire house.

"It's not-" Mom started to say, but just then the door from the garage opened and Dad walked in followed by Rundy, both still dressed in station wear. Right off, I noticed he'd cut his hair: it was close-cropped and looked great on him. Then I saw the bandage on his left temple, the scrapes on his cheek, and the wrapping on his left arm, and my joy quickly turned to alarm.

"Are you okay?!" I asked, as I rushed to his side. I held his chin, gently turning his head to the left and then to the right, inspecting his injuries. I looked at my dad.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"Easy, Joaquin," Dad assured. "He's fine. Just a few cuts and scrapes. A couple of bruised ribs." I gasped.

"You should see the other guy," Rundy winced. He sounded like he was in pain, but he forced a smile. Our eyes met and he seemed to visibly relax. I felt myself settle as well, just a little, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

I folded him into an embrace, and he wrapped his good arm tightly around me, burying his face in the crook of my shoulder. We stood that way for a long time, holding each other. I felt him transfer some of his weight onto me and was surprised at how right it felt. How natural.

"You cut your hair," I murmured as I ran a hand over his shorn head. "I like it."

He shivered and I felt him grip me tighter. "Hey, you okay?" I asked.

He looked at me. His eyes were ringed with dark, purplish smudges, and I could see how tired he was. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Can we go to bed, J?" he asked, his voice ragged with exhaustion. "Please? I'm so tired. Can we please just go to bed?"

"Yeah, sure." I looked at my dad. There was a soft smile on his face as he nodded.

"I promise he's okay," he said. "Dr. Cooper gave him something for the pain before we left, so he's probably a little out of it." He held up a small white bag emblazoned with a pharmacy logo. "He needs to take two of these before he goes to bed."

I nodded and took the bag. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Come on," I urged.

He turned to my mom and dad. "Sorry," he apologized before giving them each a hug. "I'm just so tired."

"Of course, honey," Mom said, putting her hand to his cheek and giving him a kiss. "You boys get some rest."

"I should call my parents." He fumbled his phone from his pocket.

"I talked to you dad earlier," Dad said, taking Rundy's phone and setting it to charge on the kitchen island. "They're expecting a call in the morning." Rundy nodded and I steered him toward the hall.

"Sit," I ordered after he washed up and brushed his teeth. He sat on the edge of my bed and I got down on my knees to take his boots and socks off. Then I stood and gestured to his shirt, "Arms out."

"I'm not a baby," he muttered petulantly. Still, he obediently lifted his arms, wincing gingerly as I untucked his shirt. I took extra care unbuttoning it and sliding it down his shoulders and off. Then I pulled his t-shirt over his head, my breath catching in my throat as I took in his bruised ribs and bandaged cuts. What I really noticed though was how lean and toned he was. He'd always been in great shape, but now, even in his battered state, he was honed and sculpted. Absolutely magnificent. I stared at his abs and had to refrain from touching them.

"Maybe I should make my own fitness Insta?" he said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I can see you checking me out, you pervert."

"What?!"

He laughed and then grimaced. "Ow," he moaned as he lay on his back, holding his midsection. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just quit making me laugh."

"Me?"

"Shut up and help me get these off." He reached for his belt and awkwardly unbuckled it.

"I got it." I pulled his belt from the loops, then unbuttoned and unzipped him. "Lift up," I said, patting his hip as I tugged at his pants. He raised his butt up off the mattress and I got his pants down and... Dang! What was he packing in his briefs?!

"You're staring again, perv."

"Oh my gosh, I am not!" I protested as I draped his pants and shirt over the back of my desk chair. When I turned back, he was struggling to sit up. His white briefs gleamed in the light of the bedside lamp. His bulge looked huge!

"Ouch," he groaned with another wince.

"That's what you get," I huffed as I tossed the bottle of pills to him. "I'll get some water."

I peed, then washed my face and brushed my teeth. When I got back with the water, he'd managed to get under the covers. I handed him the glass, then quickly stripped out of my clothes and crawled in next to him.

He took the pills and finished the water, then surprised the heck out of me by snuggling up close and resting his head on my shoulder. "It's good to be home," he said, his voice a thick slur.

"Yeah," I said, putting my arm around him, relishing the feel of him next to me, his body pressed to mine. "Really good." He let out a long, shaky breath. When I looked down, he was asleep.

I leaned against the headboard and pulled up the Our Daily Bread app on my phone. I was just finishing the scripture reading when there was a soft rap on the door and Dad poked his head in.

"You still up, Sport?" he said as he stepped inside.

"Hey Dad." I closed the app and set my phone on the charging pad. "What's up?"

"I told Doc Cooper I'd check in on our guy here before turning in," he said as he came around the side of the bed where Rundy lay curled up next to me snoring softly. He sat, lifted the sheet, and checked Rundy's dressings.

If he noticed - and how could he not? - how close Rundy was to me, how we were in just our undies, how his arm curled around my waist, palm only inches from my crotch, he didn't say anything.

Rundy let out a deep sigh and burrowed closer to me. Dad smiled and gently ruffled his hair. "He was nervous coming here tonight."

That surprised me. "What? Why?"

Dad shrugged and let out a half-laugh. "He didn't say. I just know that he really wanted to see you." He smiled and pulled the blanket back over us. "It's all he's talked about since he graduated from the academy." He kissed the top of Rundy's head and then mine. "He's lucky to have somebody like you in his life."

No, I thought, I'm the lucky one.

Three days later.

"Harder please! Oh, holy god, more! Please! Fuck me harder!"

Turns out, I like getting fucked. A lot.

I'd been home from school for less than two weeks, and Ron had already fucked me three times.

When I got home, I made it my mission and goal to get my relationship with the Lord back on track, but Ron, like the Devil in the Wilderness, seemed to be lurking around every corner, waiting to knock me off course. I don't know what it was, but something about being used and dominated and humiliated only made me want it more.

I wondered if this was what addiction was like, because sometimes it felt like a real craving. I mean, just thinking about it made me so hard. I swear, I was throwing a boner all the time.

How had I gone from pursuing a path of righteousness to pursuing the pleasures of the flesh?

If I actually took the time to think about it, I'd see it was a perfect storm that Ron had both orchestrated and manipulated to his advantage. First, being friends with Dillon, he convinced my former boss to give Danielle all prime evening shifts at the restaurant, knowing there was no way I was going to hang out there while she worked and risk bumping into him. I hadn't seen or talked to Dillon since that night in December. I'd completely ghosted him.

Second, he knew my parents' and Rundy's work schedules. Mom was on afternoons now, and Dad and Rundy had the same shift - 48 hours on followed by 96 off - so, on the nights when they were all at work, Ron, the Serpent in the Garden, would come slithering by, and dang it if I didn't give into temptation. Every. Single. Time.

Which is how I came to be on his exam table - he's one of the top orthopaedic surgeons in the state - naked except for my socks, holding my legs up and spread wide while he speared me like a tuna.

I'd run into him when I went with Rundy to his follow up appointment with Dr. Cooper. We all exchanged pleasantries, but as soon as the nurse called Rundy back, Ron had ushered me to his office two floors up where I was now getting railed.

"Yeah? You want this, don't you?" my future father-in-law grunted, pants and boxers at mid-thigh as he thrust into me. "You want me drilling your ass until you can't fucking walk straight?"

"Yes," I cried again, pulling my legs further apart as he slammed into me. "I need it harder. Please!"

He picked up my briefs from the floor and shoved them in my mouth, muffling my cries. "I can't have Linda hearing you and coming back to see what's going on."

Linda, oh crap! According to Mom, she was the biggest gossip at the hospital! If she- my dick exploded.

"Mmmpphh, mmmpphh, mmmpphhh," I panted into my briefs as I shot cum all over my abs.

Ron pulled out, tore off the condom, and finished, ejaculating onto my heaving chest. He tugged my underwear from my mouth and used them to wipe me up. I started to protest but stopped when he slipped the briefs into a plastic bag and sealed it.

I stared at him, jaw hanging open. At this point, he didn't even have to use the threat of telling Danielle because we both knew it would never come to that. No, all he had to do was remind me what a cock-hungry whore I was, and I came running. Every. Single. Time.

So, reluctantly commando and sporting a boner - I swear it's like I was mainlining Viagra or something - I went downstairs to find Rundy.

Doctor Cooper had cleared Rundy for duty and his next shift was in the morning. So, we celebrated by ordering pizza and watching Top Gun: Maverick' in my room. The volleyball game scene in the first Top Gun' used to be our favorite part of the movie - we must've watched it a thousand times - but the beach football scene in the new movie??? HOLY DANG!!!

We kept rewatching it, trying to perfect what Rundy dubbed the `Miles Teller Boogie.' We were both shirtless as we shimmied to the music, laughing, singing, and whooping it up, our cut-off sweat shorts riding low on our hips, when there was a knock at the door and Dad poked his head in.

"What're you two chuckleheads doing?" he asked, looking between Rundy and me. There was a funny look on his face and his eyebrows were raised.

"Watching a movie," I replied, hitting the pause button.

"Well, tone it down a little. I think they can hear you all the way down in Alamogordo. Plus" - he glanced at his watch and then at Rundy - "we've got work in the morning."

"Yessir," Rundy mock-saluted as Dad backed out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Rundy turned to me. "Dude, you have a boner!"

I looked down; sure enough, there was a ridge punching out the front of my shorts.

"Well, so do you!" I spluttered, pointing out the huge tent in his shorts.

"You had one first!"

"What?"

"A boner. You had one first."

"Oh my gosh, you're such a goober."

"No, you are." He grabbed my sides and started tickling me.

"Stop!" I shrieked, slapping at his hands.

He laughed then grabbed my flailing hands in one of his and began tickling me with the other.

"Stop!" I squealed again.

"Boner boy! Boner boy!"

"Stop!"

There was a pounding on the door. "Boys!"

"Boner boy! Boner boy!" Rundy whispered.

Morning came too early and I literally growled when Dad came into my room at the crack of dawn and pulled open the curtains. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauties!" he crowed. He was way too chipper. I growled again and pulled the covers up over my head.

"That's what happens when you play dance party all night," he laughed, yanking the blankets off me and Rundy then playfully smacking our butts. "Breakfast is in fifteen minutes so chop, chop."

I yawned my way through bacon and eggs, and as soon as they left for work, went back to bed and slept until Mom woke me up a couple of hours later. I showered and shaved and then we ran a few errands. After, we met Danielle and her mom for lunch. When we got back, I worked out in the home gym Dad and I set up in the garage, then went for a run.

Mom was leaving for work when I got back. I took a long shower, pulled on clean briefs and shorts, and flopped onto my bed. I'd been humming I Ain't Worried' (the One Republic' song from the `Top Gun: Maverick' beach scene) all day and was doing a search for the video clip on my phone when I read that the studio had released a 3-hour loop of the scene. I found it, pulled it up on the YouTube app on my Smart TV, and kicked back. I didn't even realize my hand was down the front of my shorts - or how sloppy wet my briefs had become - until my phone dinged with a text an hour later.

I looked at my phone and froze. It was a message from Ron and it contained a link to the Truck Boy video.

I'd seen the video before, but this would be the first time watching it from beginning to end without being drunk or high or while getting fucked. I pulled it up on my TV and pressed `play.' My face filled the screen.

I was panting, my breaths shallow, as I watched Jack - how many times was this now - play with my nipples.

"Shhh..." on-screen Jack said, and my breath caught remembering the feeling of his tongue licking up the shell of my ear. The way I shivered. "Relax..."

I paused the video and squeezed my eyes shut, but that didn't stop the images from continuing to play in my head. I could see Jack clearly: he was six foot four or five, maybe even six foot six, barrel-chested, with a head of thick dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His brown eyes twinkled as they looked me up and down.

He wore well-worn faded jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up revealing muscular forearms lined with tattoos. He had a tattered wifebeater on under the flannel and tufts of dark hair poked up over the collar.

I moaned and whimpered out loud as I remembered how his tongue felt as it rolled around my ear. Even with the video paused, I could hear him clear as day, "Yeah, you're a hungry boy, aren't you? A body like this needs to be used, not neglected. Celebrated, not celibate."

I pressed play and heard myself sob. A few moments later, I opened my eyes to see the video had started again. Jack was pulling my pants off. "Tightie whities? Did your mommy buy these?"

I groaned as I watched on-screen me nod, and my face grew hot as he laughed and cupped me through my briefs. Even now I could feel his strong, calloused thumb stroke my shaft through the thin cotton and I found myself arching into his imaginary hand, my dick straining the fabric.

"Ooooh," I moaned in chorus with on-screen me and watched as we both ground our butts into the mattress.

When onscreen Jack stripped my jeans off - "Someone is liking this." - I sobbed openly as I lifted my hips to let him pull my underwear off. "Yeah, come on stud. Show me how hot you are."

Somehow, at some point, on-screen me and real-life me seemed to become one. My back arched off the bed as I dug my ankles into the mattress. I pressed my palm against my hard dick, feeling it throb and pulse, hot to the touch. I slid my hand into my briefs, wrapped it around my erection, and pulled it out. It was wet and slick with pre-cum.

"Oh, Jack... Jack..."

Even a year - more than a year - after it happened, I could feel him penetrate me for the first time and I watched, face burning with shame, as I lost my virginity...

"Fucking cherry pussy."

Could feel each slam into me... "Fucking cherry pussy."

Each explosion of pleasure... "Fucking cherry pussy."

I mouthed the words along with on-screen Jack: "Damnit boy you should have been a whore. You missed your calling."

Fucking.

Cherry.

Pussy.

And then I was cumming, moaning in ecstasy as hot ropes of semen burst from my cock, splattering my chest and chin.

I must've watched the video another ten times, cumming twice more before I finally tore myself away from it. Even as I showered, I jerked off a final time, watching slack jawed as my spend and soap suds washed down the drain.

I try not to masturbate, I really do. On the days I refrain, though, I have wet dreams. On the days I give in, I end up going overboard, jacking off multiple times. It's to the point that no matter how many Tide Pods or how much OxiClean I use, my underwear always looks dingy to me. At this rate, I was going to have to go shopping for more.

Thank the Lord for small mercies though, because Danielle and her family left for Europe shortly after that. They invited me and even offered to pay my way, but I already felt like a whore, and to take their money - Ron's money - would only validate that feeling.

So, as tempting as the thought of getting fucked in every European capital sounded - and believe me, it sounded like heaven - I knew I couldn't do that to Danielle, so I reluctantly opted out. She was disappointed at first, but when she realized it was going to be her last vacation with her family, she came to terms with my decision and even thanked me.

Ron, however, wasn't as magnanimous, and let me know in no uncertain terms.

I won't go into all the sordid details of that conversation, but when he called me into his home office afterwards and demanded to know why I'd turned down his generous offer, I climbed up onto my high horse and flat out told him I was done. I told him I needed a spiritual reboot, and that there was no better way to achieve one than to spend some quality time with the two most godly men I knew: my dad and my best friend.

I couldn't read the look he gave me and at the time I didn't care.

I should have.

Summer was flying by and before I knew it, I was turning the page from July to August on the calendar in my bedroom. (Yes, my mom likes paper calendars and has one in every room of the house, even the bathrooms!) Danielle and her family were back from Europe, but between her schedule at the restaurant and the wedding plans - her parents were going all out - we only saw one another a couple of days a week. But that was okay because we'd see each other all the time once we were back in school, and then we'd be married in December, and would be living together happily ever after.

Why did `happily ever after' suddenly seemed like a really, really long time?

Thankfully I had limited contact with Ron. Since they returned from vacation, he'd resumed his extremely busy patient and his surgery schedule.

Meanwhile, my mom had been on a missions trip to Zaire with our church for the past three weeks and would be arriving back home on Sunday. I went on two missions trips when I was in high school, and they had been life changing. When Mom told me I'd been her inspiration to go, it brought us even closer.

While she was gone, most meals were pizza or take out. Of course, Dad and I (mostly me) had slacked off on the chores. Oh, we kept the kitchen clean and the yard maintained, but overall the house could use dusting and vacuuming as well as a good airing out. We planned to spend all day Saturday cleaning and getting the house ready for Mom's return. And since Rundy had practically moved in after he was cleared for duty, we roped him into helping.

During the day, I was back to cleaning pools. On his days off, Rundy usually tagged along. Sometimes he helped, but mostly he just kept me company while he worked on his tan. I wear square cut swim trunks when I work, which are a little smaller than I'd wear if I was swimming in public (I know, I know, based on my Instagram posts, you'd think I'd be comfortable in something that small or even smaller), but Rundy wears what I'm convinced are black briefs. I mean, I've never checked them out, but the way they cling to him when they get wet... Wait... what?!

Anyway, so far nobody has complained. The boss even said it's been good for business.

Friday after work, Rundy and I went for a jog and then worked out with my dad. Normally I met Danielle for an early dinner before she went to work, but she and her mom had gone to Santa Fe for a spa weekend, so it was just us guys. After cooling down, we took turns showering. When I came back from mine, Rundy was sitting on my bed, towel still wrapped around his waist.

"Why aren't you dressed? Dad's ordering pizza."

He looked up at me sheepishly. "I need to borrow some undies."

"Again?" I glanced at the balled-up briefs in his hand. "You know those are mine."

"I know."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, what's stopping you? You know where everything is."

"You're out."

"What? That can't be." I crossed to the dresser and slid the drawer open. Sure enough, it was empty.

"Your dad came in while you were in the bathroom and borrowed a pair."

"Crap," I muttered. "I was supposed to do laundry." I went to my closet and dug through my travel duffel. I pulled out a new multi-pack of Calvin Kleins, grabbed a pair for myself, and tossed the package to him.

He shook one out. "Your Cadillacs. Sweet."

"Cadillacs?"

"Yeah." He stood and pulled them on under his towel. "Your fancy underpants."

"My fancy underpants? What's that supposed to mean."

He dropped his towel and snapped the waistband of his underwear. "You know, the ones you save for your glamour shots."

"My what?!"

"Your glamour shots. I follow your Instagram, remember? I see the stuff you post."

"Th-they're fitness progress pics!" I stammered, my face beet red as I stepped into them.

"Sure they are," he said, posing while making a duck face. "With your shorts pulled down so the waistband's all showing and stuff?"

"Oh my gosh. You're such a dork."

"Do you sell them, too?"

"Do I what?!" I screeched, my voice jumping up into Mariah Carey-Land.

"Your used Cadillacs? Do you sell them? Do you have an Only Fans too?" He smirked. Now the jackass was just goading me.

"Dick," I muttered.

"Swear jar!"

"Oh my gosh, you're such an infant!"

Suddenly Ron's comment from the morning after he fucked me for the first time played in my head: `Truck Boy's tighty whities? I can get a fuck-ton for these online.' I froze.

Rundy was doubled over, cackling. "Easy, man. I'm just giving you a hard time. Lighten up."

"You're such a jerk," I huffed. I pushed past him and was reaching for a shirt when I felt a tug on my waistband. "Hey!" I screamed as he yanked at the elastic, trying to give me a wedgie.

"Gotcha!"

I pulled away from him, knocking him off-balance for a moment, then put him in a headlock.

"Get off me, you big dork," he laughed as he started to tickle me.

"Stop!" I screeched, my voice shooting back up. I tried to bat his hands away, but they were scrabbling up and down my ribs so fast I couldn't grab them. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and flipped him onto the bed. Somehow, though, I ended up on my back. I was holding tight to him when he climbed on top of me.

"Get off!" I cried as I squirmed and struggled.

Instead, he took my wrists in one hand, reached down, and grabbed one of my nipples. "Titty twister!"

"Stop!" I shrieked as I twisted and bucked my body, trying to throw him off. All that did though was propel him forward until he was straddling my chest, his crotch just a foot from my face. I looked up at him. He was still smirking. I gulped and bucked again.

He lost his balance and pitched forward. "Oooof!" he huffed, letting go of my hands and bracing himself against the headboard as his crotch pressed squarely on my face.

Laughing at my predicament, he moved to regain the upper hand. He wedged his knees under my armpits, which forced my arms up, and he grabbed my wrists again, pulling my arms over my head and pinning them against the headboard with one hand. Doing so caused his bulge to push even harder against my face.

That snapped me out of my daze and I struggled to dislodge him. "Gross! Get off me!" I cried, half outrage, half laughter, as I twisted and thrashed. He had me pinned good, though, and no matter how much I flailed and kicked, I couldn't buck him off.

He raised his free hand and I gulped. He was dangling his sweaty underwear. Our eyes met and he waggled his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't dare!" I whispered hoarsely.

"Try me," he whispered back, grinning. He lowered the briefs, bobbing them teasingly against my nose. Then he draped them over my face.

"Mmmm... You're so gross!" I moaned, thrashing my head back and forth in a desperate attempt to dislodge them. He held them in place, though, and I was nearly overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of sweat and musk. I had to fight the urge to take a deep breath and bury my face deeper into the folds of the damp white cotton.

"Not so fun is it, being all wet and stinky," he said, apparently - and thank God - mistaking my moan of pleasure for a groan of revulsion. He threw his head back and roared, "Smell my stink, man!"

"Mmmpphh," I whimpered as I felt the telltale sensation of a burgeoning erection. Oh, no! No, no, no, no, NO!!!

My moans and feeble struggles caused him to laugh harder, and he rubbed the briefs back and forth across my face. "Sniff `em!"

I don't know how long we were like that before I tried to dislodge him again. This time, he lost his balance when I bucked and, both arms flailing, scrambled backwards to keep from falling off. I batted the sweaty briefs aside.

To my utter shame, his butt landed squarely on my crotch... and my now raging hard on. He froze. I froze. Our eyes met and he smirked. "Do you have a-"

"No!"

He reached behind him, fingertips brushing my inner thighs and balls as he groped blindly, stopping when he reached my erection. "You do!" he gasped "You have a boner!"

"Shut up!"

"Joaquin's gotta boner!" he sing-songed. "Joaquin's gotta boner!" He squeezed the tip of my dick and I squeaked.

"Get off me!" I cried, thrusting my hips up in a desperate attempt to buck him off. "I said get off!"

"Joaquin's gotta boner!" he continued, clamping his knees against my sides. "Joaquin's gotta boner!"

My bucks and thrusts became so frantic and wild that he was bouncing up and down, grinding his butt against my hard on, laughing and cackling like a demented hyena, completely clueless as to how we looked.

"Oh, baby!" he purred in his Austin Powers voice as he thrust and gyrated. "Do I make you horny, baby?"

He continued to ride me, bouncing up and down so hard the headboard banged loudly against the wall. I was as erect as I'd ever been - "Please don't cum! Please don't cum! Please don't cum!" I silently pleaded - and when I glanced at the wide expanse of white barely inches from my face, I could see he was hard as well. Impressively so. Holy crap, but he was huge! His dick was straining the thin cotton to its limits, pulling it so taut I could see the outline of the head of his cock and the vein running along the underside of the shaft.

My mouth was suddenly very dry, and I gulped, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. Why was I staring? Why was I-

"Boys! Boys!" a voice cried, and I turned to see my dad standing in the open doorway, tucking a black t-shirt into grey Levis.

"Dad!!" I screamed, rising up suddenly, finally dislodging Rundy. He toppled off onto his side, laughing like a doofus as he rolled onto his back. I jumped off the bed. "Knock much?"

"I did knock." He pointed at my crotch and grinned, "Down boy."

"Dad!" I grabbed a pillow and covered myself.

"Quit being such a big baby, Joaquin. It's not like I haven't seen it before."

"DAD!!" And there I was, back up in Mariah Carey-Land. "Get out! You're supposed to be ordering pizza."

"Change of plans," he said. "Ron called and invited us to dinner. He's picking us up in twenty minutes."

Ron picked a trendy sports bar a few blocks from Fork, where I used to work. We were seated at a booth, perusing our menus, when our waiter appeared with a tray laden with water glasses, a large basket of chips, and two bowls of salsa.

"Hi there," he said as he unloaded the tray. "My name's Brice and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you anything to drink other than water?"

Dad looked up from his menu. "I'll have a Diet Coke-"

"How about a round of drinks for the groom to be, his best man, and his dad?" Ron interrupted, plucking Dad's menu from his hand.

"I don't know," Dad started to say. "May-"

"Oh, come on, Greg," Ron said to my dad, "I don't think a drink or two will hurt."

"That's what you said last time," Dad replied, and Ron barked a laugh.

"What?" Rundy asked, looking between my dad and Ron. "What's so funny?"

"The last time I had `a drink or two' with this guy, I ended up passed out cold," Dad said, shaking his head.

"Oh my gosh, what happened?" Rundy asked.

Dad relayed the story. "Ron and I went to lunch a few months ago and" - he looked at Ron - "what was it I ordered, Long Island Iced Tea?"

Ron nodded.

"Yeah, well, after a few of those-"

"A few?" I interrupted. "Dad!"

He looked at me. "How was I to know?"

"Wait, what?" Rundy asked. "What did I miss?"

"There's no tea in a Long Island Iced Tea," I explained as the waiter chuckled. "It's got vodka, tequila, gin, rum, and triple sec, but no tea."

"Holy crap!"

"Holy crap is right," Dad laughed, and we all turned toward Ron.

"Hey now, how was I to know you didn't know what a Long Island Iced Tea was?" He held his hands out in a `mea culpa' gesture.

Dad leaned toward Rundy. "The real kicker is you can't taste the alcohol."

"Oh dang!"

"That's one way to put it," Dad laughed. "Anyway," he continued, "so here I am drinking glass after glass, no idea what's in it, while my good buddy Ron here is just kicking back, all smiles as I dig my grave. Well, as I drank my grave."

"Just a little innocent fun between friends." Ron protested. I looked at him and, for the first time, wondered if maybe that afternoon hadn't been as innocent as he claimed.

"Innocent my ass," I muttered under my breath. Our eyes met and he looked so guileless I swear butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Then we get up to leave," Dad went on, "and it's like I forgot how to walk."

"What?!"

"Oh yeah. If Ron hadn't been there, I'd've gone down on my butt."

"If I recall, you did," Ron interjected. Dad shot him a look.

"Oh my gosh, you were wrecked?"

"If that's what you kids are calling it these days, then yes, Rundy, I was wrecked." He flicked his eyes to Ron.

"Again, not my fault you're such a lightweight," Ron protested playfully.

Dad turned to me. "I don't remember much, but apparently your mom thought I was quite amusing. She's even got pictures on her phone."

"This I've got to see!" Rundy laughed.

"Not on your life!"

"Okay, then," Brice said with a smile. "Maybe just a regular iced tea for you then?"

"No, no." Dad held his hand up as he picked up the drinks menu. "It's a celebration. What do you suggest? And go easy."

"Tom Collins," Brice replied without hesitating. "Gin, lemon juice, simple syrup, club soda. Tastes like sparkling lemonade but with a kick."

Dad arched a brow. "How big of a kick?"

Brice winked and took the menu from Dad. "You'll be fine." He turned to me. "What would you like?"

I looked at Dad, open-mouthed. He was encouraging me to drink alcohol? What the heck?

As if sensing my discomfort, he reached across the table and laid his hand on mine. "You're an adult and you're getting married soon. It's a celebration."

"Okay, why not," I relented, setting my menu down. "I'll have one, too."

"Make that three," Rundy said, folding his menu and setting it on top of mine.

"I'll need to see your IDs," Brice said, looking at me and Rundy.

I glanced at Rundy and knew what he was thinking. The summer before our freshman year of high school, we, along with our friend Eli, had made a pact, promising each other and the Lord that we'd never drink or do drugs, and that we'd remain virgins until our wedding nights. So far, I was zero for three.

Brice handed back our IDs and turned to Ron. "And you? A Tom Collins as well?"

"Oh, I'm driving, so I'll just have that Diet Coke," Ron informed him. "And we'll take the appetizer sampler platter to start."

"Very good," Brice said. "I'll put that right in and be back shortly with your drinks."

"This is really good," Rundy said when the drinks arrived. He clinked his glass with my dad's and took another sip.

Dad smiled and his eyes twinkled. "Yes, it's refreshing."

I agreed. The Tom Collins was good. I took another sip, making a mental note of how much everybody had to drink.

A few minutes later, Ron excused himself, returning shortly with a second round of drinks. I did a double take as he set the tray on the table and started passing around glasses. "Oh, um."

"What?" Dad said as he took the drink Ron handed him. He noticed my frown. "One more will be fine. I told you, it's a celebration. And besides, Ron's driving."

I downed the remainder of my drink and reached for the glass Ron held out for me, freezing mid-grab when I saw a familiar figure approach. It was my old boss, Dillon.

"D-Dillon?" I stammered, standing as he reached the booth. "W-what're you doing here?"

"Ron invited me," my former boss said. "I haven't seen you since what, December?" I glanced over at Ron and saw his mouth quirk into a smile. Too late I sensed that a trap had been laid.

"You've been home all Summer and you still haven't come by to say hi?" Dillon continued as he drew me into a hug. "I've missed you, Truck Boy," he whispered, breath hot against my ear as I awkwardly returned the embrace. "You're looking real good."

I couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through me as I stepped out of his arms. He looked over my shoulder and nodded, "You remember Chad, don't you?"

Shocked, I turned to see my former co-worker leaning against a booth, looking even more like a typical California surfer: tall and tan with sun-streaked blond hair and green eyes. Chad was a walking Ken doll, except judging by the painted-on jeans he was wearing, he was anatomically correct. And then some. He caught my eye and I gulped.

"Hey Joaquin," he said with a smile as he leaned forward and fist-bumped me. "Good to see you."

My mind flashed back to that night in December when Chad had fucked my face and cum in my mouth... Belatedly, I realized I was still staring at the bulge in his jeans. I felt my dick swell in my briefs and I tried to will the image away.

Apparently, he knew what I was thinking because he smirked at me. I didn't like the look in his eyes.

"Y-yeah, you too," I stammered. "It's been a while."

"Join us, please," Dad invited, oblivious to the shifting undercurrents in the room. The thought of Ron, Dillon, and Chad all at one table made me nervous.

"Thank you," Dillon said, introducing Chad to the group as they slid into the booth. It was a tight squeeze and we found ourselves crammed in shoulder to shoulder.

"I see where you get your good looks, Joaquin," Dillon said, looking from me to Dad.

I smiled warmly at my dad. "Best looking guy I know." I always knew my dad was handsome, but I'd never really thought much about it. Until now. I took a longer look and saw my older self looking back at me. I liked what I saw. Dad and I were about the same height with the same hair and eye color. He was leaner than me, though, and I figured it was his years as a paramedic and firefighter that had honed and fine-tuned his body into what it was today.

Dad blushed and I noticed Dillon had draped his arm over his shoulder. I met Dillon's eyes and tilted my head slightly, giving him what I hoped was a `what the heck are you doing?' glare. He returned my glower with interest. It all but screamed, "I'm not going to tell Danielle... but I could tell Danielle."

Shots fired. Check and mate.

Just then, Brice returned and took drink orders from Dillon and Chad, and I tuned back into the conversation.

"And you," Dad was saying to Rundy, "look just like your dad did when he was your age." He set his drink down and cupped Rundy's jaw in his palm. He ran his thumb over his cheek. "We were roommates in college, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Rundy said.

I'd heard the story before and only half-listened. He'd only had one and a half drinks and he was already rambling? If he didn't stop drinking, or at least pace himself, he was going to end up drunk. Again.

"Then, when I saw you and Joaquin wrestling today," Dad continued, "it brought back memories of when your dad and I used to horse around like that."

That caught my attention and my eyes widened. What was he saying? How much had he seen?

Rundy smiled, "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," my dad said softly, smiling sappily as he continued brushing the side of Rundy's face with his thumb. "Your dad and I used to be pretty close. Kinda like you and Joaquin here."

I could feel eyes on us, but just then Brice returned with Dillon and Chad's drinks, as well as another round for the rest of us.

Dad looked up. "We didn't order these."

"I did," Dillon said as he passed the drinks around.

"Oh, I think we've had enough," Dad said hesitantly.

"Come on, Greg," Ron said as he pressed a glass into dad's hand, "you said it yourself, it's a celebration. Besides, I'm driving."

"Yeah," Dillon agreed. "Your son's getting married."

"Well, I guess..." Dad shrugged, raising his glass in another toast.

Twenty minutes later the mood had lightened considerably. I was buzzing, Rundy was buzzing, Dad was definitely buzzing. I sat back and took a look around the table: Dad and Ron were laughing at something Dillon was saying, Rundy and Chad were finishing off the last of the appetizers. I had to admit, despite my misgivings, it had turned out to be a fun night so far.

"So, who's standing up for you?" Dillon asked.

"Well, Rundy's my best man, of course," I said, beaming as I slung my arm over my best friend's shoulder, "then there's my dad, my cousin Tyler, my roommate Noah, and my friend Eli."

"I'm so stoked Eli's coming!" Rundy said. "I miss him and Pheebs."

"When's the last time you talked to him?"

"To E? We mostly text, why?"

"I dunno. I talked to him earlier this week -- I forgot to tell you -- and I got the feeling he and Phoebe are having problems."

"Oh no," Rundy said. "I'll give him a call soon."

"You'll have to let me throw your bachelor party," Dillon said, interrupting us.

"That'd be so cool!" Rundy enthused at the same time I said, "Oh, I don't know."

"I might have to crash it," Chad said.

"The more the merrier," Dillon agreed. "What say you, Ron?"

"Oh, definitely. Count me in. Greg?"

Dad looked up from his nearly empty drink. "Sure, why not?"

A little while later, Rundy nudged me, "I need to pee. Let me out?"

"I gotta go, too," I said, and we walked across the room to the hall that led to the bathrooms.

Rundy held the bathroom door for me. He was grinning ear to ear as he fist-bumped me. "Dude, am I drunk?"

"You are if you're calling me dude."

"Then I'm definitely drunk, dude," he snorted as he sidled up to the urinal next to mine. I noticed his face was flushed. "I can't believe we're doing this!" he whispered excitedly as he undid his pants.

"Right?" Last December Rundy talked about amending our years-old pledge, suggesting that since we were both over twenty-one, maybe there were a couple of things on the list we could try together. A sort of bucket list. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I'd already scratched everything off my list. "Is it weird that my dad's here?"

"No, I think it's cool."

I grinned. "Me too."

Dad was sliding out of the booth when we got back.

"Where're you going?" I asked.

"It's getting late and I should go," he said as he climbed to his feet, one hand on Ron's shoulder to steady himself. He shrugged into his jacket. "Besides, you don't want your old man tagging along while you celebrate."

"How're you getting home?"

"Ron's going to drop me. I just need to use the men's room first." He pushed off the booth and headed toward the bathroom, weaving his way through the maze of tables.

"Dude, your dad's wasted!" Rundy giggled.

I nodded. As I watched Dad vanish down the hallway to the restrooms, I realized I'd never seen him drunk before. Sure, I'd seen him have a glass of wine or a beer when we were out at dinner (we don't keep alcohol in the house), but I'd never seen him drunk. And he was most definitely drunk.

Which was odd because we all had the same amount to drink. Maybe Ron was right and Dad was just a lightweight. But even as I considered that thought, something felt off.

I was still trying to make sense of it - it never occurred to me that Ron and Dillon could've been messing with our drinks - when I saw Dad making his way back to our booth. As he got closer, I noticed he'd forgotten to zip his pants and even in the low light, the white of his underwear was a stark contrast to his dark jeans. It looked like it was glowing and for some reason I found that funny. Forgetting all about any conspiracies, I let out a laugh.

"XYZ, Dad," I whispered when he reached us.

"What?" he slurred, squinting down at me.

"XYZ," I repeated. I didn't want to say it too loud, so I gestured to his open fly without trying to be obvious. When he still didn't get it, Rundy pointed and said loudly, enunciating each word, "Examine. Your. Zipper."

Dad looked down and saw his exposure. "Whoops!" He reached for his fly, and I watched while he fumbled awkwardly with his zipper. It was comical and I couldn't keep from grinning.

"Dang it," he muttered a few seconds later. "The tab's stuck." He looked up at us, exasperation written all over his flushed face. "I can't get it up, boys."

That set Rundy off into a fit of laughter. "Oh my gosh," he gasped, "he can't get it up!"

Oblivious, Dad continued, muttering as his fingers tugged and pulled at his jeans, drawing attention to himself and his situation. Finally, visibly frustrated, he began to undo his belt.

"Okay, we're done here," I said, grabbing his arm as I slid out of the booth. "Let's do this somewhere a little more private."

He looked around, suddenly realizing he was out in the open with an audience. "Oh jeez, I didn't even... Well, this isn't embarrassing. At all."

"It's okay," I snorted as I led him back to the bathroom "I don't think anybody saw." Okay, yeah, that was a total lie because everybody was gawking. Several of the patrons were even laughing good-naturedly.

Once inside the bathroom, I ushered him into one of the disabled stalls, finished unbuckling his belt, and opened his jeans. Dad took over and, finally unencumbered, was able to work the tab of his zipper free.

"Are you wearing my underwear, Dad?" I asked, apparently loud enough for the man washing his hands at the sink to glance back at us before hurrying out of the restroom.

Dad blushed. "I ran out, so I, um, so I borrowed a pair of yours."

Suddenly I couldn't stop giggling. "Between you and Rundy... Come on, zip up and let's get you home."

Back at the booth, Ron had his coat on and was slipping his phone into his pocket. "We need to go, Greg," he said when he spotted us. He glanced at his watch.

"The hospital just called and I have to go in." He didn't sound happy.

"But the hospital's all the way on the other side of town," I pointed out. I pulled my phone from my pocket. "I'll just get us an Uber. Come on, Rundy, we're going."

Dad turned to me. "No, you two go on. I'll be fine on my own."

"Dad-"

"We can drive him," Dillon interjected, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Chad and me. We'll all go. We can drop your dad off and then keep celebrating if you want."

"More celebrating?" Rundy burst out.

"You bet," Dillon said, staring at me until I pocketed my phone. "We can head over to the Saddle Up Saloon."

"Is that the place with the mechanical bulls?" Rundy asked, and Dillon nodded. He finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the table. "Hells yeah! I haven't been for a good ride since grad night!"

"Well, you play your cards right and that might change tonight."

We said good-bye to Ron in front of the restaurant. He huddled with Dillon for a few seconds then turned and jogged across the street to his car.

The walk to Chad's truck seemed to take forever, what with the way Dad was weaving drunkenly along the crowded sidewalk, and I hoped we didn't run into anybody we knew. We crossed at the intersection and passed a couple of closed shops before we came to a 7-11. Dillon ducked inside, gesturing for us to stay outside with Chad, and came out a couple minutes later with two plastic shopping bags.

He handed an open bottle of Gatorade to my dad. "Here, Greg," he said, "drink this."

Dad took the bottle and turned to Chad. "What's this?"

"You need to hydrate," Chad explained.

"Yes, of course. Good thinking."

"What about me?" Rundy asked.

"Knock yourself out," Dillon said, handing him a bottle.

I forgot that Chad drove a ridiculously lifted GMC truck. I'd ridden in it a couple of times and even sober, it was a challenge to get into. Suffice to say, in our condition, we needed help.

Rundy was first and I didn't miss how Dillon's big hands cupped his butt as he boosted him up. Rundy, as usual, was totally oblivious. Dad was next and like Rundy, he didn't appear to think anything of Dillon's hands all over his butt. I did, though, especially since they lingered a little longer than I thought necessary, pawing and squeezing and kneading as he lifted him up and into the back seat next to Rundy. Of course, neither of them saw the big, leering grin Dillon flashed Chad and me.

When it was my turn, I reached for the grab handle and Dillon leaned in close. "I'm going to fuck Rundy tonight," he whispered, his voice hot against my neck as he hoisted me up into the backseat. The stubble of his whiskers tickled my ear, and fuck all if my dick didn't lurch and go completely erect, squirting pre-cum into my briefs. I turned back, mouth open to respond, but he slammed the door, cutting me off.

When Chad pulled into our driveway and parked, Dillon jumped out, opened the back door, and helped Rundy down.

Dad was next. Still clutching his Gatorade, he stumbled awkwardly and ended up chest to chest with Dillon, breaking out in giggles as he wrapped his arms tightly around my former boss in an awkward embrace.

"Somebody's feeling good," Dillon laughed as he eased him down to the pavement, his hands running along Dad's side.

When I stepped out, my hands on Dillon's shoulder to steady myself, I was keenly aware of his proximity. "Your dad's a hot piece of ass," he rumbled softly as he leaned in close, his warm, whiskey-scented breath sending a shiver coursing through my body, making my dick stiffen, leak, and throb. "Too bad he's not coming with us. I'd like to take him for a ride, if you know what I mean." He swung back up into his seat before I could respond.

"W-w-we'll be right back," I stammered over my shoulder as Rundy and I each took one of Dad's arms and started up the driveway.

Of course, Rundy was having his own struggles so we had more than a little difficulty trying to help Dad, who could barely stand, let alone walk. Thankfully none of the neighbors were out walking their dogs or taking out the trash as we staggered up to the front porch.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I heard Dillon mutter from right behind us as we tried, unsuccessfully, to negotiate the four steps for the second time. "You three are a mess."

With his help, we finally climbed the stairs and I managed to get the front door unlocked on the first try. Inside, I flipped on the lights and led the way to my parents' bedroom. Rundy stopped at the bathroom. "I need to pee again."

The door to my parents' room was open and I switched on a bedside lamp. "Just put him here," I said to Dillon, gesturing to the bed as I pulled the covers down.

Dillon eased Dad onto the bed and turned to me. "You're not going to help him undress?" he asked as he set the bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand.

I must've had a deer-in-the-headlight look on my face. Undress Dad?

"Oh my God," Dillon muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Upsy-daisy, Greg," he said, patting Dad's bicep and helping him to his feet. Dad looked at him blankly, his eyes bleary as he swayed from side to side. Dillon tugged Dad's shirt from his pants and pulled it up over his head.

He leaned him against the wall, and as he worked at his belt, I took in the site of Dad's broad chest, pecs and nipples, and sculpted abs. Dillon then braced one big arm across Dad's chest and ran the tip of his finger from the dip in his chest down to where the trail of hair disappeared beneath the waist of his jeans.

He popped the button, slowly eased the zipper down, and folded back the flaps to expose Dad's underwear. When the white waistband came into view, Dillon did an exaggerated double-take, glancing from Dad's open pants to me. "Well, lookie here." He shoved Dad's jeans down to his knees.

I blushed and ducked my head. A moment later, I heard a grunt and looked up. Dillon was flicking a finger back and forth over one of Dad's nipples while cupping his balls with his other hand. I watched as his thumb circled the tip of Dad's dick through his briefs, teasing it into an erection. As his dick lengthened and thickened, Dillon waggled his eyebrows and grinned wolfishly at me. "I see something else runs in the family."

"Dillon!" I rasped.

"Don't worry," - he lifted Dad's chin with one finger and I saw his eyes were glazed over - "Greg here doesn't have a clue what's going on, do ya?" He gave Dad's bulge another good squeeze and then blew in his ear. Dad hissed and moaned and threw his head back onto Dillon's shoulders. "Yeah, he's not going to remember a thing tomorrow."

How did he know though? I tried to parse out what he said but was distracted by Dad's head thrashing back and forth. He was fully erect now - we both were - and his hard on thrust out like a divining rod. I couldn't take my eyes off it, or his bulging briefs that looked like they were waging a losing battle in the struggle to contain his erection.

I'm not sure how long I stared until I realized Dillon was watching me with an amused smile. I blushed again. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brown bottle - poppers?! He loosened the cap. "Should we see if we can make it three for-"

"Dillon!" I whisper-shrieked just as Rundy staggered into the room. He'd taken his contacts out and was wearing dark chunky frames that complimented his sun-streaked blond hair and hazel eyes.

"Are we ready?" he asked, swaying as he clapped me on the shoulder.

"Just about," Dillon said as he slid the poppers back into his pocket, flashing me a conspiratorial grin. "Joaquin was about to give me a hand helping Greg into bed and then we can head out, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I stammered, as I got down on my knees and began to remove Dad's boots and socks. As I worked, I glanced up under my lashes and watched shocked and -- if I was honest -- a little turned on as Dillon openly groped my dad. He'd angled his body to block Rundy's view, so Rundy was unaware that he was cupping Dad's bulge and stroking his shaft with his thumb.

For his part, Dad was out of it. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his mouth was slack, but his body was certainly aware. His nipples looked as hard as his dick did in his underwear. My body was reacting too, and I had to adjust my painfully hard erection.

"Dude!" Rundy snorted with laughter as he came closer. "Check it out! Your dad's got a boner!"

I glanced up and over my shoulder to see my best friend staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at my dad's obscene erection. Honestly, a troop of Boy Scouts could camp under that tent. Heck, maybe even the whole Jamboree!

Rundy continued to stare, jaw slack, mesmerized, until Dad's knees suddenly buckled, and he pitched forward, his bulge mashing against my face. I tried to balance but fell back against the bed and found myself pinned in place by Dad's crotch.

"Hey!" I cried as I tried to extricate myself.

"Easy there, Greg," Dillon said, holding him in place as I tried to unwedge myself. "You could put somebody's eye out with that thing!"

That sent Rundy into a fit of laughter, and I thought he was going to pee his pants.

Meanwhile, Dillon held Dad in place, bulge in my face. His erection was like rebar as it moved back and forth against my nose and chin, leaving smears of pre-cum that had soaked through the thin cotton across my cheeks.

I spluttered and struggled to right myself, finally managing to get free. Casting a baleful look Dillon's way, I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Then I got Dad's boots and socks off, stripped him of his pants, and climbed awkwardly to my feet. I tossed his Levis onto the chair. "Let's get you to bed, Dad."

I took his arm and he looked at me through bleary eyes, a big sappy smile on his face. I helped him into bed and was pulling the sheets up over him when Dillon handed him a couple of pills and the Gatorade. "Take these and drink this, Greg," he instructed. "Remember, you need to hydrate."

Dad nodded and did what he was told, placing the pills on his tongue and downing half the Gatorade before handing it back to Dillon. He reached out and took one of my hands. He held out the other and Rundy took it. "You boys have fun," he slurred, winking at us, "and don't do anything I wouldn't."

"Dad!" But he just sighed, rolled over, and passed out.

"Oh my gosh, your dad is so druuuunk," Rundy laughed as I ushered us out of the room and turned out the lights.

"Yeah, I definitely think I need to get to know Greg better," Dillon said to me in an undertone as I closed Dad's door. "Maybe I'll fuck him after I'm finished with Rundy."

I gulped. "I-I'll meet you guys in the living room in a minute," I stammered as I fled to the bathroom.

"I can't wait to ride the bulls!" Rundy hooted.

"Oh, you're gonna get a ride all right!"

I closed the bathroom door, splashed cold water on my face, and took a long look at myself in the mirror. "What're you doing?" I said out loud. Of course, my traitorous reflection had no response.

I took a minute or two to compose myself, and then made sure Dad's door was closed before I joined the guys in the living room. The TV was on and Rundy was flipping through the channels.

"What're you doing?" I asked. "I thought we were heading out?"

"Just checking the score of the game," he replied. "The Rockies are playing the Dodgers tonight."

"Go Rockies!" Chad crowed as he stepped into the house, closing the door behind him. He was carrying the plastic grocery bags.

"You a Rockies fan?" Rundy asked, finding the right channel and turning the volume up.

"Hell yeah," Chad said, and they fist-bumped. "Dodgers are a bunch of pussies."

"Hey now!" Dillon and I objected at the same time. The four of us laughed.

"Them there's fighting words, Chad," Dillon said. He looked at me, "Is it okay if we watch the rest of the game first?"

I shrugged. "Sure, but I don't wanna wake my dad."

"Oh, your dad isn't waking up any time soon," he said as he took the bags from Chad and set them down on the kitchen peninsula.

"What does that mean?" I demanded.

"Just trust me." He pulled a fifth of Jameson and a liter of ginger ale from the bags, found where the glasses were, and took down four. "How about a drink while we watch the game?"

"Another drink?" Rundy said, dropping the remote and joining us in the kitchen. "Oh, hells yeah." He dropped ice cubes into the glasses as Dillon mixed a round and handed one to Rundy who eagerly took it and drank. Oh my gosh, was my best friend turning into a lush? He caught my eye and quickly put his glass down.

"One more isn't gonna hurt, will it, J?"

"Yeah, one more isn't gonna hurt, will it, J?" Dillon cajoled. I didn't miss the underlying taunt.

"Come on, Joaquin," Rundy pressed, shooting me puppy dog eyes as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

"I guess not," I relented with a shrug. Dillon clapped me on the shoulder. "Attaboy."

We took our drinks and joined Chad in front of the TV. The game was all tied up in the sixth and ended up going into extra innings.

Throughout the rest of the game, whenever Dillon or Chad went to the bathroom I'd go right after and check on Dad, ignoring their smirks and eyerolls. Rundy was too caught up in the game and never caught on.

When the game ended I checked on Dad one last time, standing at the open door, watching for a minute as he slept soundly. I folded his clothes and put his boots away in his closet.

I went to rejoin the guys in the living room but something about the way Rundy, Dillon, and Chad were standing gave me pause. I took a step back into the shadows of the darkened hallway.

Rundy was shirtless, flanked on either side by Dillon and Chad. He looked wasted - no wonder, considering all the drinks the guys had been pouring in him all night - and was doing a double bicep pose. As I watched him flex, memories of last August and the three college guys resurfaced.

To be honest, most of that afternoon is hazy and I still don't understand how I'd gone from sharing the Good News of God's Word to sharing my body, getting fucked I don't know how many times like some random slut. I remember waking up in a bed with one of the guys, the tenderness in my butt, the humiliating walk of shame... Even now, the memories - fragmented as they are - made me hard, and I squeezed my erection as I watched the scene unfolding in the living room.

Rundy looked confused as Chad and Dillon felt him up like a prize bull at a livestock auction. Dillon leaned in and whispered something in his ear, and Rundy looked up at him. "You think I'm hot?" he slurred.

"Fuck yeah!" Dillon said, his hand on one bicep.

"Hot as fuck!" Chad agreed, his hand on the other.

Rundy blushed and then grinned broadly, basking in the praise.

Part of me was alarmed. Part of me was curious. Part of me was turned on. I stayed where I was though, afraid that the slightest movement on my part would spook him and he'd bolt like a skittish colt.

Dillon moved behind him and gently squeezed both biceps. "Nice guns," he commented, his lips only inches from Rundy's. He slid his hands across Rundy's pecs, over his nipples, and down to his abs, where the fingers of his left hand toyed with the waistband of his underwear that was poking up over his pants.

"And check out these abs," he continued, tracing the ridges of Rundy's six-pack with one hand while the fingers of the other slipped beneath the elastic to delve into his briefs, dancing beneath the white cotton. Rundy groaned and shuddered and even from across the room I could see he was hard. I squeezed my own boner.

"Damn, you've got better abs than me," Chad said as he ran the back of his hand lightly over Rundy's body, and I thought I heard Rundy's breath hitch. "Here, check `em out." He tugged his tight t-shirt off and put Rundy's hand on his stomach, resting his hand over it.

"Mine, too," Dillon jumped in, moving to Rundy's other side and unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his taut abdomen. He took Rundy's other hand and held it against his flat stomach. "See? Give `em a feel."

Rundy's face seemed to almost glow, and he licked his lips as he shyly slid his hands over the other men's abs. Then he flashed a smile. "Yeah, mine are better," he said quietly.

His hands lingered though, and Dillon flicked his eyes up to meet mine - Fuck, how long had he known I was standing there? - and winked. "How about Joaquin?" he said, nodding toward me. "You got better abs than him?"

That seemed to pull Rundy out of the daze he was in. "Than J? Oh, I dunno."

"Well, he's standing right there. Let's ask him."

Rundy looked up at me and his face lit up when our eyes met. "Hey, there you are, J. C'mere."

"Yeah, J," Dillon said, slinging an arm over Rundy's shoulders. "Come on over."

I didn't like that he called me "J." That was Rundy's name for me. Nobody but Rundy has ever called me that. Not my parents, not my friends, not even Danielle. It was like our secret language, and it sounded dirty and profane coming from Dillon's mouth.

"C'mere," Rundy said again.

I knew better, but the sight of my best friend half-naked and drunk off his ass drew me like a moth to a flame. Dillon handed me a drink and Chad held a glass to Rundy's lips, urging him to take another sip.

"Should J take his shirt off too?" Chad asked, tilting the glass back so Rundy had to finish it all. I watched Rundy's throat as he swallowed, and even though I'd just taken a sip of my drink, I was suddenly parched.

"Seems fair to me," Dillon said. "What do you think, Rundy?"

Rundy licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh... um, yeah."

"Yeah?" Dillon slid his hand down Rundy's back and patted his butt. "Well, then, why don't you give him a hand?"

Rundy grinned again and pulled my shirt up over my head, his hands lightly skimming my sides as he stripped it off. My skin pebbled with goosebumps at the contact. He dropped the shirt on the floor and looked at me. We were only inches apart, and I can honestly say, I've never been so hard in my entire life. If my zipper burst now, there'd be shrapnel everywhere.

At this point Dillon and Chad were feeling us up openly. My skin felt electric, every touch sparking and crackling like a live current. I looked down and saw my boner pushing my tight whites out like a divining rod - wait, where did my pants go?

I looked over at Rundy and saw that his pants were off, too. He was just as hard, if not harder than I was.

Dillon put Rundy's hands on my abs, and after a few seconds they began to move in a slow exploration. I held my breath as they roamed from my belly button up to my pecs, his fingertips brailling me as if learning my body, memorizing the contours, planes, and angles.

Our eyes met again. His pupils were blown, and his lips were slightly parted. "J," he whispered, almost reverently, his voice filled with awe. That single syllable was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

Time seemed to stand still then, the world narrowing in until it was just the two of us standing face to face, his hands on my chest, my heart beating a million miles a minute. We stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity, like it was it just the two of us. I opened my mouth to speak, closed it. I leaned in, tilted my head...

And then we were kissing, our mouths frantic, tongues jousting and parrying as we tasted one another. I grabbed his butt and pulled him close, our dicks grinding together so hard that even as damp as our briefs were, I was afraid they'd burst into flames.

I pulled back, gasped for air, and then my mouth crashed over his again. He ran his hands through my hair, whimpering as our tongues thrust against each other, probing, jockeying for dominance. It felt different kissing him than kissing Danielle.

There was something about the feel of his stubble against my cheeks and chin, the aggressive exploring of his tongue, that felt ... right. Natural.

I couldn't keep my hands off him. Still kissing, I wrapped my arms around him and held him even closer. I ran my hands down his back, over his butt again, and then slid them across his erection. I swear it twitched when I touched it. I slid my hands into his briefs, pushing them down, and took his hard length into my hand. It was so hot that for a brief moment I thought my hand was going to get burned.

"J," he gasped, his voice nearly lost over the sounds of my moaning. I reached down into my briefs, now nearly soaked through with pre-cum, and took my own erection in hand. It was hot and slick and when I wrapped my hand around both of our dicks, I nearly ejaculated on the spot.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," I gasped as I jacked us off.

"J," he gasped again, and then our mouths found their way back to another - back home - and we began to kiss again. Deeply. Passionately.

"Time for that later, lover boys," Dillon said.

"I knew they were queer for each other the first time I saw them together," Chad said as he helped Dillon pull us apart. I opened my mouth in protest only to have the poppers shoved under my nose. I snorted deeply and the world fell away.

When I opened my eyes, I realized I was down on my knees. There was a noise to my left and I turned my head to see Rundy struggling to take Dillon's dick in his mouth. Tears streaked his cheeks as he choked and sputtered. Then the poppers were put to his nose and the change was almost instant: he went from gagging and spluttering to taking the entire shaft into his throat with ease. What. The. Heck!

His lack of technique didn't seem to bother Dillon, who yelped once, pulled his dick out of Rundy's mouth and slapped his cheeks with it while admonishing him to mind his teeth. The reprimand - most likely in combination with the booze and poppers - seemed to spark something in Rundy because he started sucking more ravenously, more voraciously. As if it was mother's milk and he'd been starving for a lifetime.

"I knew it," Chad snorted derisively. "You're a cocksucker just like Joaquin here, aren't you?" He'd pushed his underwear down and his dick - long, thick, and wet -- unfurled just inches from my mouth. Without hesitation, I opened wide and took it down to the root. "Mmmpph, mmmm," I moaned as I sucked and slurped.

"Fuck, I missed this," he sighed as he pushed his dick down my throat. "I don't think anybody's ever sucked me as good as you."

I took a perverse pleasure at the back-handed compliment, but it was short lived because he pulled out after just a few seconds. I started to whimper, but he cupped the back of my head with both hands, shoved back in, and began to fuck my face in earnest.

"Gllg... Glllg... Gllugggg!" I gagged as he pounded my mouth, his balls slapping against my chin. I struggled to keep pace with his manic thrusts, my lips stretching into a wide O to accommodate his girth until he finally settled into a less-frantic rhythm.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, side by side on our knees, sucking and licking, completely and thoroughly dominated. After a while though, I felt myself begin to fade. Every time I blinked it seemed like more and more time passed.

As some point I was aware that we'd moved from the living room to my bedroom. I was on my side, watching as they tumbled Rundy onto the bed next to me. His rolled around onto his back, giggling, his face glistening with cum and drool, his lips red and swollen.

I tried to pull myself up to a sitting position but fell back. Dillon reached down to ruffle my hair and then I was out.

TO BE CONTINUED