The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, nor governmental areas, which the story is stages. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offences you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection, in real life.
ROAD TRIP pilot to copilot wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"I told you, Robbie. you made a wrong turn three miles back!" Eighteen year old Sean Duffy, called out, as a map stretched across his lap.
Grabbing the map out of Sean's hand, sitting in the front passenger side, Mik says, as he reaches for the paper, returning it, "Here. Try looking at it this way?"
Of course Sean got all the usual banter, containing fool', doofus' and other degrading criticism, over holding the paper map upside down.
From over his right shoulder, a meek voice, yet bold in it's deliverance, "And don't talk to my boyfriend like that ever again!"
Giggling broke out throughout the van, even Robbie cracking a little smile, as Barry sat back, picture of a serious nature on his face, aimed at Sean for speaking to Robbie in `that' tone of voice.
"Thanks, babe," Robbie said, followed by, "come up here and give me a little peck!"
It made Barry feel elated, squeezing across the two swimmer jocks, almost laying across Mik Vysotsky's lap to sneak to the front for a sweet little kiss.
"Thanks babe!" Robbie said, with a smile.
Then, looking to his right, Barry takes it on himself to bark orders to Sean, snatching the map out of his hand, "You go sit in the back. I'm telling Robbie where to go now!"
Of course, they all made fun out of Barry telling Robbie where' to go'. It was easy for lithe Barry to sneak between the seats, but when Sean, six feet tall, one hundred and eighty pounds, tried the same route as Barry, he managed to trip over everything in and out of sight.
It gave the guys more to laugh at as Sean fell, face forwards, into Mik's bod, chest meeting chest, cheeks becoming close, as Mik yelled out, Russian rooted, in his newly aquired vocabulary, "Doofus!"
Meanwhile, a melancholy moment just occured, as Barry asks, "Alright if I lead you babe?"
"Anywhere!" Robbie replied, his loins leading the way to reaching over, across the way, cupping Barry's head in his big hand and kissing him deeply.
Of course, the laughter subsided, when the swim team saw all this happening, provoking the lot into commenting on things from, We're never gonna get there!', to Keep your eyes on the road!'
Robbie responded, "I'm not even on the road!"
Then more bickering, the friendly type, took place as they badgered, "Well, would you get on the fuckin' road?"
The engine still running, Robbie put the van in `D' and slowly accelerated.
After studying the map for no more than two minutes, Barry says, "Stop!"
"Oh shit!" Robbie called out, steering wheel in one hand, his hand at his heart, with the other.
"Whatsamatter, babe?" Barry asks.
"Nothing," Robbie forces a smile, "only next time give me warning before you give me a heart attack?"
Alert to his complaint, Barry, squashing the map up, sits on the edge of his car seat, asking excitedly, "Do you have pressure? Squeezing? Pain in your chest?"
"No, Barry, I...."
"Do you have pain in your arms, or back, or jaw?" Barry asks, now looking almost point blank at Robbie.
"Um, no.. you see...I..."
"You look a little sweaty. Are you nauseous or light-headed?"
"Um, no, when I said...." Robbie tries to intervene again.
"Maybe you should pull over and let me take your pulse?"
"I'm fine... really," Robbie finally got in, Barry listening, but not from an urgent perspective. "When I said I had a heart attack, I didn't mean I was having a heart attack. What I meant is you scared me."
Then, in a reverse, more sentimental mode, Barry kindly says, "I'm sorry if I scared you babe, but I thought you were really having a heart attack."
The mixup had them again sitting on the shoulder of the road. Complaints began to register, as they engaged in a sweet kiss of affection.
"Um, maybe we'll get there by Christmas?" Sophomore, Alex Nagano asks, sarcastically, from the rear of the van.
"What d'you care?" The majority of the riders hear, casting them all into a fit of raging humor, as Jeff Kyser cheerily remarks.
"Okay, what's going on back there?" Robbie reads the situation like a book, trying to search the rearview mirror.
"Believe me," Starke Richter says, reflecting his German accent, "you don't want to know, Robbie!"
Of course it was feed for more laughter, Robbie just shaking his head, preparing to make a U-turn, asking his co-pilot, "Where to babe?"
Settling down, Jeff went back to giving Alex a nice slow suck-job!
After back-tracking, hanging a right, where Sean made the mistake of mis-reading the upside down map, sending them a few miles out of their way, Robbie turns the wheel. Getting used to how Barry dished out the directions, Robbie already had it through his head to expect a sudden directive. If the van sped along at a fairly fast pace, Robbie laughed his ass off at the guys in the back, cursing him out when bodies landed on top of bodies. By this time Alex was drained so he and Jeff had sacked out in the back, tumbling over like rolling pins.
"Are we there yet?" Freshman, `Flip' Peterson asks, whining like he did ten minutes ago.
"I'm not going to even answer that Peterson," Robbie said, making eye contact in the mirror.
Barry, turns slightly in his seat, again the colored map getting mashed up so the mountains took on the figures of raised topography, bellows, "Yeah, stop asking `cause we're not gonna tell you. And stop bugging Robbie, or you'll make him have a heart attack!" With his two cents spoken, Barry plunges back into his seat, studying the deluxe map, which includes all fifty states, as if reading a study text. "Hey Robbie?," distinguishing something serious.
"What?"
"Want to play a game, babe?"
"Game?" Robbie questioned.
"Right. I ask you a question about a state and you tell me the answer. How `bout it? Betcha you get a lot right!"
Robbie thought it over for a second.
While at it, Barry turns around in his seat and questions his twin, "Remember when we used to play trivia games in the car, when mom took us to see our cousins in New Jersey, Larry?"
"I'll never forget it!" Larry replies, rolling his eyes.
One of two non-team members, from the brigade of Applegate University's swim team, Edwin, his arm over Larry's shoulder, asks, "Why the long face?"
Giggling, Barry responds to Edwin, everyone else all ears, "Because as soon as our mom asked the question, I knew the answer right away!"
"Okay, brainiac, you've managed to knock me down a peg or two, so what's your point?"
Knowing Larry joked, Edwin took it a little to heart, sweetly saying, as he took his boyfriend's hand, "I think you're an intelligent guy."
Barry said, "Nothing. Just finding out if you remember," as Larry smiled, his head turning, allowing Edwin to fulfill his obligation to follow up with a kiss.
"Yeah, I remember," Larry told his nineteen year old twin.
"So, what's your first question?" Robbie asks, unaware of the sudden quiet in the back chambers of the vehicle.
"Carson City is the capital of what state?"
Right away, Robbie and Barry giggle, as they hear from the back, "Oh! Oh! I know this!" coming from Jason Youngblood, the only senior member of the swim team.
"Leave it to a pro," Jim Stoan remarks. "Like I'm the history major? It's Colorado."
So high on his ego, it wasn't tough for the other guys to `boo' him, as Barry says, "Wrong-- It's Nevada!"
All hell broke loose, guys tickling the junior, sticking their hands up his shirt, giving him nip-tugs, accosting him with their ugly, yet friendly comments.
Turning to Robbie, Barry asks, while the others are laughing it down, "What's the capital of New York?"
"Wait-- I know this," Robbie says, the pressure on, thinking one of the guys from the back has heard the trivia question.
Not being disappointed, hearing, "Oh, that's so fuckin' easy... New York City," plus a myriad of wrong responses, Robbie tells them, a smile on his face, sure of himself, "You're all wrong! The capital of New York is Albany!"
It's then Robbie found out Barry wasn't wearing his seatbelt, jumping out of his seat, across the divide and hugging Robbie around the neck. In a flash, Barry was guiding the van through an obstacle course of cars, yelling, "I got it!"
"Feels good, Perez," Josh Berg says, of Tommy Perez's face, pressing into his crotch.
"Get a grip, Berg... you know I'm not gay!"
"Don't knock it til you've tried it Perez," Josh replies.
"You go first!"
But upfront, sympathetic Barry, soothes Robbie, rubbing the outside of his tee shirt, across his hairy pecs, apologizing, "I'm sorry. You're a little sweaty. You aren't having a heart attack are you?"
Panting, heart rate definitely up, sweating like a hog, glad they wound up on the side of the road and not under the hood of the ten wheeler, nor the side of a neighborhood house, it's the first time he felt anger towards Barry. Yet, instead of blowing his top, he mellowed out, telling him, "Just sit in your seat and put your seatbelt on, okay?"
"Okay," Barry said solemnly, "if that's what you want."
To Robbie, it must have been a harrowing experience, as he pressed his bod into the seat, hands pushing on the steering wheel. His hairy forearm became a towel as he wiped the sweat off his brow.
For the passengers, it became a forum, Larry telling of at least ten instances in which Barry steered their car or his bike from danger, always pinpointed back on course, as if the vehicle or cycle never deviated from it's straight line. "Except this one time," Larry had the story on the tip of his tongue, but a sad memory blocked it for now. All the other guys, seeing the excitement drain from the blond teen, turned around and minded their own business.
"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to," Edwin put it, his meaning to fish for an answer to Larry's downcast attitude.
"Well, you see," Larry started in, "our mom says Barry has this gift. He can see things faster than he can react. I don't understand all of it, but it's like seeing the future a split second before it happens. Anyway, the two of us were skateboarding in the neighborhood. He saw this pothole in the road before I did. He rammed my board, causing himself to hit the pothole."
"Don't tell me," Edwin said.
"Yeah. Even though we had helmets and protective gear, Barry got scraped and bruised. I felt really bad about it."
"Sure. Who would'nt, but at least you can come away knowing your bro has a deep sense of love for you."
"That's the way it was around our house. Mom was the mother and I played `the father'."
The revealing nature of the conversation, drove Larry on to tell about not knowing their father, the trials and tribulations of growing up, Barry with a strain of Asperger's Syndrome, Larry, always in a never-ending quest to search for why it wasn't him.
"I don't think you have the right to make a call like that, Larry."
Breaking away from Edwin's arm over his shoulder, he looks him in the eye and replies, "How can you say that? You weren't there when I had to stand up for Barry in school, when...." After spilling his guts, telling about this time and that, rattling off instances when Barry had to be bailed out of some situation, always being there for him, Larry posed the question, "I don't understand where you get off saying what you said, Edwin? Huh?"
"Bad call. Sorry. I guess at one time or another, any of us can doubt why we turned out with better circumstances than someone else. I mean, it wasn't at all what you went through, with my brother."
"What about it?"
"Oh, when I was younger, I always wondered why I couldn't be like my brother. Alex..."
"What?" Alex Nagano became alert to the sounding of his name.
"Not you, Alex. Edwin's talking about his brother `Alex'."
"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to intrude," Alex apologized, then went back to Jeff, lying across his lap, hand up under the eighteen year old's shirt, rubbing his hairy pecs and stomach, as they became bored with Barry's `United States trivia' questions.
"So, your brother? Alex?"
"Right. Almost like you, we grew up without a mother."
At the revelation, Larry sunk back into the mold of Edwin's curved arm, butting up against his ribs.
"Nothing much to tell, actually-- the envious brother routine. Alex was always better at everything that had to do with sports. When we lived in Cali..."
"You lived in South America?"
"No, not the Colombia Cali', the Cali', like in `California'?"
"Oh right," Larry excused his ignorance.
"Anyway, Alex; tall, dark, handsome, fit right in with the beach jocks, playing volleyball, picking up a surfboard for the summer, riding it like he's been doing it for years, not to mention his hot bod attracting... well girls, faster than misquitos to sweat."
"Did you come out to him yet?"
"Oh yeah and not recently," Edwin replied.
Turning inward, Larry, two years younger than Edwin, put one arm behind the Latino's back, the other falling on his shirt, over his naturally chiseled pecs.
"So, when did you come out to him and your mom?"
"Well, it freaked me out. What I thought for sure the reaction would be something bad, with my mom, things went well. But Alex, it turned out to be the opposite reaction."
Hand sliding down, Larry's fingers play with the tail of Edwin's shirt, eventually crawling up the inside, til he felt the rather bushy treasure trail. Edwin looked down, when he felt a finger slide inside his navel.
"Okay?" Larry inquires, when it's noticeable he's zeroing in on what's going on under his shirt.
"Feels good. Can't say that I've ever had anybody explore that territory before," Edwin replied, feeling it, but not saying anything about the equal reaction he was feeling under his zipper.
"So, what about Alex and you?"
"Right. So, I figured Alex, being the big, straight jock he is, would haul off and punch my lights out or something. `Wrong'," he made the sound of a buzzer, "I figured I would get the worst of this over, telling them I'm gay, by clueing in Alex. Was I ever wrong!" Then, off on a different tangent, "If you don't take your hand out, I'm going to wind up with wet undies!"
"Do you want me to stop?" Larry questions, looking up Edwin's face.
"Um, no."
Smiling, Larry poked his finger back in Edwin's bellyhole, moving it around in a circle.
"Looks like you've found a new `hot spot' for me," Edwin says, the slope of his bod in the seat, telling he's enjoying it.
"I hope we're still together long enough to find out the others!"
The diversion made Edwin forget all about telling the rest of his `coming out' story, as he squirmed about, moving his hips up and down, as Larry probed further up the trail.
"And what's the capital of Alaska?"
"Hmmm... Anchor... no, Juneau!" Robbie guesses.
"Wow! You're really smart, Robbie."
"Really?"
"Yep. You've got it all."
"Got it all?" Robbie questions him. "How's that go?"
Barry rattles off, without reservation, "You're intelligent, you're the hottest guy on campus and you've got... never mind about that!"
Instantly smiling, Robbie lingered on the thoughts of the last few nights. First time, it killed him when Barry tried getting the head of his cock inside. Pinching his ass together, Robbie squirmed in his seat, still feeling the stretching of his anal passageway, the third night they made more love.
"Whatcha thinking about, Robbie?"
"Oh, that thing we can't talk about now," Robbie replies, grinning.
"Leaning over, Barry says, in a soft whisper, "Maybe we can go all the way tonight?"
Answering, Robbie says, just as subdued, "Maybe halfway?"
"Sure," Barry replies, all serious, "we can take it slow. Larry said if I got with any guy I would have to do that!"
"Good," Robbie said, happy Barry has been clued in to how it's done, the sane way. "Um, now will you put on your seatbelt and tell me where to go, babe?"
"Oops!" Barry exclaimed, jumping back in his seat, trying to shove the metal part of the belt into the buckle.
"Better hurry. I think we're coming to a junction in the road here, babe."
Without even opening the map, Barry shouts out, "Turn left!"
"Don't tell me you've memorized the map?" Robbie asks, with the understanding of not being surprised if that be the case.
"Only the part where we'll be traveling. I've got the whole route up here," he proudly refers to his head, pointing to it.
"I wish I was as smart as you," Robbie says, whimsically.
"Doesn't matter. At least you turned out to be a hunk!"
After paying attention to traffic, which had petered out since leaving the interstate, Robbie makes a left turn. Looking for a sign, Robbie asks, "I wonder what the name of this street is?"
It's obvious to all, the change in scenery, from city, to town, to a few buildings, suburbs of the town, then fields, forests and then old fenced in properties made to hold nothing but weeds and vines.
"Fox Glen Road," Barry says, the map still folded up, sitting between his legs.
"You're sure of that?"
"Here, take a look," Barry hands him the map, neatly folded up, as if almost new.
"Um, I'm driving?"
"Oh! Right," Barry says, tossing the map over his shoulder, accidentally throwing it out the window.
"Oopsy," Robbie says, bringing the van to a halt on the deserted country road. "I'll get it."
"No, that's okay. I'll get it," Gil, a Greenville swimmer acknowledges, pushing the side door open and hopping out.
What none of them took notice of is the cop car parked behind the van. Not until Gil has the paper in his hand, then stands to view the police officer staring into his eyes.
"You throw that paper out the window, son?"
"Um... no... not me sir... I mean," Gil looks at the brass badge, "Officer Swerdfager."
"That's `Swerd-fay-jure', son."
"Yes, sir," Gil responded, as if talking to his father. "I mean I wasn't saying it wrong on purpose, nor to associate it with any... I mean...."
From the beginning of their encounter, when Gil spotted the engraved badge, pinned to the left side of the officer's navy shirt, after first saying it to himself, it had seemed like the stress came on the syllable, `fag'.
"You think I'm a fag, don't you boy?" The officer tried reading Gil, like the front page of a newspaper.
"You could be. None of us would really know, unless you came out to us... Are you gay, Officer Swerdfager?" Barry asked outright, in a courteous manner, saying the surname perfectly, accents falling into place.
"Oh shit!" Came the shout from inside the fan. "Who let `him' out?"
Opening his door, Robbie jumped to the pavement and trotted around the hood, appearing over Barry's shoulder.
Robbie caught Barry explaining, "Lots of guys who look straight, can be gay," then realizing Robbie standing behind him, brings him forward, asking Officer Swerdfager, "Does he look gay to you, babe?"
"I dunno," Robbie replies, loosening the collar of his tee shirt, allowing `steam' to escapre. "Um, why don't you backoff?"
A hand on his hip, Barry overrides Robbie, ready to comment. Pointing a finger, saying to the cop, as a reprimand, "You're acting just like one of those homophobics!"
"Hey, don't get me wrong," Officer Swerdfager contests, "I have nothing against any peoples; gay, straight, black, Asian, Indian, whatever they may be. I mean, if I had anything against gays, I'd be putting down my own brother!"
"And what do you think about that?" Barry asks, as Robbie hangs on, `in the wings', Gil fading from view, encompassing the van and gaining entry through the driver's seat.
Shrugging his shoulders, the cop says, "He's my brother. We grew up together, became best friends-- still are. Just because he turned out different doesn't mean I have to change all that."
Seeing him as friend, not foe, Robbie steps forward and his normal, masculine tone, offers a hand, with, "Robbie Sinclair and this here is my boyfriend, Barry Billington. I'm sure glad you are the understanding sort, Officer."
Not the power behind the badge cop he was ten minutes ago, the officer takes his leather glove off his right hand, offering it to Robbie, introducing himself, "Jay Swerdfager."
Taking Barry's hand, the officer's hardy handshake overpowered the soft, almost nonexistant return.
"I took notice, the paper lying on the ground, tossed out of your vehicle, is in the possession of the young man whom I believe is inside your van?"
Owning up to it, in a low tone, Barry fesses up, "Yeah. It's mine. I threw it, but didn't mean for it to go out the window, Mr. Swerdfager."
"That's right," Robbie replied, "I guess you saw it about the time we realized it floated out the window. `Reason for me stopping. It's our map."
A hand appears out the side door, Gil returning the evidence to the scene of the crime.
"Thank you," Officer Swerdfager says, to whomever the hand belongs to. "Let's see here...."
Before the officer could get the words out, Barry proceeded to name every street, whether turning left or right, in their quest to find the place of destination.
"So, you're headed for Miguel's place, are ya?" Jay asks.
"You know him?" Robbie inquires.
Barry, on the other hand, digs deeper, "You ever been there?" Before Jay can answer, Barry pursues, "We're going there to have fun with our coach. Coach Torricelli. You know the name?"
"Can't say I do, but regarding Miguel Delgado, I had the...."
"Coach Torricelli is the swimming coach at Applegate University. He used to be the wrestling coach. So, you know Miguel or what?"
Jay and Robbie exchange glances. He would have had it out two minutes ago, if Barry hadn't interrupted!
Good-naturedly, he answers, "Well, if you're going there for what I think you're going for, well then I have a hint to why you're headed in that direction."
Curious, Robbie is ready to slightly throw a hint, but instead Barry comes right out with, "Are you into bondage, discipline, sadism or masochism, Mr. Swerdfager? Are you a top or bottom? Do you like to wear leather?"
"Quite a mouthful of questions," Jay says, glancing to Robbie, then back to Barry, "I'm not really into it.... well, wasn't until one of my buddies from the force asked me to go along with him."
"Gay?" Barry asked.
After a slight giggle, Officer Swerdfager explains, "I wasn't sure, but after he had sucked more than a few cocks I think it convinced me."
"And Miguel let you stand there and watch?" Robbie asked.
"Well, there had been one condition, which mind you, I didn't mind conceding to..."
Both guys waited for the reply, Jay reading their thoughts, when leaving them on the edge.
"If I wanted to watch, I had to do it...." after a deep breath, Jay reports, "His conditions were I put on some leather and participate."
Right out of his mouth, Barry exclaims, "You made your cop-buddy suck you off?"
"Um, I tried to steer away from it, but after swallowing eight loads of cum, everybody looked at me. Their stares became enough for me to get the hint."
"Wow! What did your buddy say afterwards?"
"Well," Jay looks in the air, off into the distant field, then coughs up, backed by a giggle, "that night, before I let him out of the truck, he begged to do me' one more time. Hey, it felt great. Why not'? I told him. So, I followed him into his place and let him suck me off... only."
Robbie and Barry stood there, as if on the edge of a cliff, waiting.
"Let's just say it was my first time I ever fucked a guy."
Of course, the first to intercede, Barry asks, "Did you like it?"
"Actually, Gary, my buddy, really knows how to keep a guy in limbo, sucking, licking, making me hold off for a coupla hours before shooting it up his ass. Feels so good, the way he does it, but when I felt his hot insides caress my shaft... It's a feeling I never felt before."
"So, you're brother is gay... don't you think you could be too?"
The two way conversation, more between Barry and Jay, kept batting questions and answers back and forth, until Robbie says, looking to his wristwatch, "Um, it's getting kind of late here, officer."
"Jay," The policeman corrected him.
"Jay, we should be going."
"Sure, I understand. You're not far from Miguel's station."
"Eight and two-tenths of a mile," Barry rips off.
"What are you? A walking encyclopedia?" Jay questions Barry.
"Don't encourage him," Robbie says, kidding, knowing Jay didn't get what he meant.
"Oh, don't forget this," Jay hands Barry the map.
"I don't really need it. I remember the route back."
"Just the same, either put it back in the glove compartment or dispose of it properly?"
Thanking the officer, Jay's last words, "Maybe I'll see you over the weekend," the vehicles take off, the patrol car zooming on ahead of them.
%
Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....