The Queer Road
DISCLAIMER: These are fictional stories of teenaged boys and young men confused over their sexuality. There are graphic descriptions of sexual activity, most of it homosexual. If you are not authorized to view such material, leave now. Author retains copyright.
VOYEUR 5
My jack off fantasies went into overdrive after I had another mostly successful peek by sneaking up on my pervert cousin Bobby and his little friend Danny behind the feed store the night the Pep Club built the homecoming float. I reveled in the conflict as Danny went to his knees in front of Bobby's turgid organ, hesitated, and then took the dick head into his mouth. Oh, the ecstasy! I crusted cum rags at an unprecedented rate for the next week, then began to plot another chapter.
How could my oafish, overbearing cousin get Danny back on the end of his dick? He'd lost his drivers license and lived three miles from town, so he couldn't just pick him up in the truck and drive out into the country for a quick suck. One could ride a bike to the other, but no self respecting high school boy would be caught dead riding a bike in those days; uncool. They could slip out behind something after a school event, like the Pep Club event, but those were uncommon. Bobby and his friend Clyde had trysted in the bathroom after school, but Bobby was more sophisticated now and I reasoned he would want a chance to really savor Danny's efforts rather than just a quick squirt into Danny's newly accommodative mouth. I found a way to meet Bobby's needs, and mine.
I worked in my father's feed store Saturdays, for minimum wage, which was a princely $1 per hour then. Unless you're in the business you don't realize how many kinds of feed there are; chicken, pig, horse, cattle, calf, dog, cat, sheep, goat, fish, monkey (yes, we sold monkey chow), and turkey. Each had variations, like for calves, pregnant cows, feeder cattle, etc. It came mostly in 50 pound bags and we reordered every week. In addition there are various kinds of grain, hay, straw, and bedding materials used in animal husbandry. Loading, unloading, stocking, displaying and delivering this stuff is what we did.
On Fridays my father took his bob truck to Memphis to pick up our order at the wholesalers, saving freight. On Saturday I unloaded it. He liked to knock off after lunch and go out to the VFW to drink beer with his buddies and watch football or basketball on TV. I would tend the store and close up at 3. A couple weeks after Danny's initiation into cock sucking, I reorganized the warehouse and made some extra room, triggering a bigger than usual order. I pitched Dad on hiring Bobby to help me unload the truck Saturday; noon to three. He agreed. I told Bobby, then added, nonchalantly, that I needed to cut out early to run some errand and he could lock up. He went for it, of course. I could see the wheels turning in his head; get little Danny over there and lock up, then pull down the pants and suck weenies to their hearts' content. If someone should unexpectedly return, pull up pants and be just cleaning up. It was perfect. I'd be in the office, which would be locked. I'd have my pants down too, pumping away while they slurped and choked.
Saturday morning I rearranged the warehouse again, ostensibly to make room for the larger order, but actually it was to make an inviting bed of straw and hay bales in a back corner but in full view of the office window. They could suck anywhere and I'd see them, but if they went to that corner I'd have the best view. I felt so smart. I got a shock when Bobby got there at noon.
He brought Devane Washington.
"Jim, I brought Devane along to help with that truck. You said it was gonna be a tough job," He said, dismounting from his dad's truck accompanied by the biggest guy in our high school. Bobby called me Jimmy all the time, except when he wanted something. His father pulled away, headed for the VFW.
I thought fast. Whatever it was Bobby was planning, I was going to get to see. I couldn't believe Devane was going to be slobbering on Bobby's dick, but here he was. Maybe what I was going to see was Bobby getting his ass kicked, which was fine too.
"Oh! Good idea. Hi Devane."
"Yo."
We had a decent football team; 6/2 last season, 3/0 so far this year. Bobby started at right tackle, Devane at left, and I was the pulling left guard. We had one play where Devane and I both pulled and went around the left end, with the fullback behind us and the left halfback with the ball behind him. In theory all that meat would mow down anything in our path, and sometimes it worked that way. Usually it led to a huge pile at the end of the line with a net gain of three yards. Still, it was fun.
"Tell you what, I'll get you guys started and show you where to put everything and then I gotta go do some stuff. I'll give Devane my dollar an hour; say three dollars."
"Yo."
"Great."
I got them started, closed out the cash drawer except a few bucks for change, locked Dad's office, gave Bobby the main door key, and left before one. I drove out to the barbecue joint and had lunch, then drove back and parked in front of the movie theater, went in, got some popcorn and walked out. I strolled across the railroad tracks, through the warehouses and down the road to the feed store. I unlocked the back door to Dad's office and slipped in. Bobby was waiting on a customer and Devane was unloading the last few sacks. It was 2:30. I moved Dad's chair right to the blinds covering the window to the warehouse so I could get a good look, sat down and waited.
They loitered around for a few minutes after the customer left and then Bobby pulled out a fuck book. We called them that, or 8 page bibles; they were crudely drawn porn cartoons stapled together in little 8 page booklets. He and Devane went through it page by page, laughing and savoring the naughty pictures. Bobby checked the parking lot; empty. He locked the door at 2:50 and pulled out another one.
"Yo! Look at that dude, he got a big one."
'Givin' it to her, ain't he?"
They loitered by the front door, like they were about to leave. Bobby reached back to his back pocket and retrieved yet another 8 pager from behind his wallet.
"Look at that!"
Devane leaned in to get a good look, they moved away from the door.
'You got a big one, you that big?" Bobby asked.
"Naw, I ain't that big."
"Bet y'are. I got seven inches, and you're way bigger than me."
"How you know what I got?"
"I seen you swayin' around the showers with that thing. Don't kid me Devane, you got the biggest dick around."
"You pretty big, maybe you got the biggest one."
"Let's see."
That didn't take long. In a flash two fairly substantial semi-hard cocks were hanging out just into the shadows by the front door. They each admired the other and their own, stroking, hardening up, dick heads only inches apart; one ivory white, the other black as night.
"That thing's a foot long," Bobby said, admiring Devane's organ, now standing tall, big black dick head half emerged from a generous black foreskin.
"Shit. It's eight inches, maybe a quarter more if someone strokes it for me."
"You get it stroked much?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"You getting' yours stroked a lot?"
"No."
"Well, why not?"
"It's hard to get your dick stroked. You stroke mine if I stroke yours?"
"No. I ain't strokin' no dude's dick."
"Maybe that's why you ain't getting' stroked."
"Maybe. Dude like this thing, he gonna stroke it for me."
"I ain't strokin' no dude's dick unless he strokes mine. Don't want talk about strokin' dicks to get around."
"You got that right. Don't want no talk gettin' around."
They slowly masturbate, watching each other, pulling their dicks down and letting them snap back up straight. Bobby opens his belt and pulls his boxer's down to let his nuts hang. Devane does the same. My pants are around my ankles, and my feet are propped on the wall to allow my eye to be right at the small break between the blinds.
"Squeeze this thing for me," Devane said, thrusting toward Bobby.
"Grab this."
They each took the penis of the other and that troublesome barrier was breached. I ejaculated into my handkerchief.