I Just Needed a Tune-Up

I wouldn't exactly call Hamilton, Ohio the armpit of the country. Not exactly. I'd probably call it the dirty, infected ass hole of the country. And, I'd be allowed to because that's where I'm from.

Hamilton is between Cincinnati and Dayton, close enough to both that neither one will claim it. Locally, it's known as "Hamiltucky" because it is supposedly even more hillbilly and redneck than Kentucky, even. I have to say, I agree, since I was born and raised there.

There used to be industry there which at least gave it a reason for being. Now, the people who lived there justified their existence with cars, cigarettes, food stamps, opioids and video games for the most part. Not me. I worked at a big box store not far from town and saved as much as I could with the intention of moving somewhere else in the future.

It was a Tuesday lunch time. I'd been late that morning getting in and my buddy Red called me on it as soon as I sat down in the break room.

"My fucking car wouldn't start; I had to beg a ride to work." I told him.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"Hell if I know. All I know how to do is stick the key in and turn it. Now I'm going to have to have it towed someplace and get screwed with my pants up paying for whatever they say is wrong."

"Why don't you let my cousin look at it first? He can fix just about anything and it probably is just something minor anyway."

"You think he would?"

He pulled out his phone and said, "Doesn't hurt to ask." When the phone was answered, he said, "Hey, asshole. Did I interrupt you pulling on your pud?" He listened to the reply and then said, "You wish. You probably have to tie a string around it just so you can find it. I've got a question for you."

"Not if you were the last person on earth." he said in response to whatever he heard at the other end. "I've got a friend here at work that can't get his car started. I told him you might take a look at it and see what's wrong before one of the garages try to soak him."

He looked at me and asked, "When are you home?"

"I'm off tomorrow. I'll be home all day since I don't have a ride."

"Yeah." he said into the phone and looked at me again.

"What will he charge me for looking at it?" I asked.

Obviously he could hear me on the line because Red said, "He says give him 20 bucks for gas and make sure that there's plenty of beer to drink. Oh, and you pay for parts if you need them."

"It's a deal." I said. I had Red repeat my address to him and he said that he knew the place, that he'd probably be there around 10 AM and hung up.

"Doesn't he have to work tomorrow?" I asked Red.

"He's on disability. He was overseas and got fucked up. He acts okay when I see him but he must still be messed up, they're still paying him." Red replied.

I wondered what I'd gotten into.

The next morning at a few minutes after 10 there was a knock on my door. When I opened it I got my first look at Roger, Red's cousin. He was shorter than me, around 5'6" and wiry. He had on a loose tank top and an old pair of loose basketball shorts but I could tell from his arms and shoulders that he was pretty well built. He had dark curly hair and was good looking, even though he had a long scar that ran along one cheek from his nose to his ear. There's a certain stage in an Appalachian guy's life when he faces a crossroads, physically. Some of them dry up, become stringy old men before their time and look like mad biblical prophets. Some go the other route, get fat, lose teeth, smoke like chimneys and spend the rest of their shot lives drunk. The third option fit Roger. He was past the age I spoke of and he was still in prime shape and attractive as hell. He'd probably be that way till he died.

While I was taking him in, he stood and stared back at me. I'm six foot, lean from regular swimming and more of the proverbial nerd than hot redneck white trash. I was dressed pretty much the same as him except my clothes were even bigger and baggier.

"Well, I'm not the Jehovah's Witnesses. Can I come in?" he asked.

"Sorry. I'm Mike. You must be Roger." I said, stepping to the side to let him enter.

Roger stepped in and looked around. There wasn't much to see, I'm not the decorator type.

"Where's this car that won't start?" he asked.

"It's down in back, I'll show you."

He just looked at me for a moment and then said, "Not unless you're carrying a six-pack, you won't. I don't go anywhere unless there's beer."

I walked over to the fridge and pulled out what he'd asked for, holding it up for him to see.

"That's a start." he said. "There had better be more where that came from. Now I'm ready to go."

I led him back downstairs and out through the basement door in back. The building that I was living in was one of a series that had been built in the 70's. The management company did just enough maintenance to keep it from sinking into a total slum; nevertheless the place looked its age. My piece of shit car was right where I'd left it. Even though it was just after 10, it was already in the 90's and the car was right in the sun. Roger grabbed the six pack, cracked open a beer and said, "Get inside and crank it."

I did as told and he opened the hood while I tried to get it started. It just wouldn't turn over. I got out and walked around to where he was peering at the engine.

"When's the last time this thing had a tune up?" he asked.

"Never?" I replied. "At least, not while I've had it."

"Jesus, you think that could be a problem?" he asked.

He drained his can of beer, opened another and started fiddling around under the hood. He seemingly checked several things, then turned and leaned against the front of the car and looked at me.

"People like you don't deserve to own cars." he said. "Is there an auto parts place or a Walmart near here?"

"Yeah, a couple of miles up the road."

He drained his beer and said, "Let's get going. Bring your credit card, you need some new shit."

I went back upstairs and got my wallet, then met him out front.

"And we're stopping for more beer on the way back." he said to me.

He had an old truck that he'd parked out front and I climbed in on the passenger side. I watched him as he drove. Even though he was a surly fucker, there was something about him, something that made you feel that he wasn't always so bad tempered. There was something almost vulnerable about him. I never really thought about other men in terms of attractiveness but I did that morning, sitting next to him. He had a hot body, even I could see that. He made me uncomfortable.

When we pulled into the Walmart lot and got out he said, "You don't talk much, do you?"

"I guess not, sorry."

"I like it." he replied. Then he smiled and said, "You sure do stare, though."

He walked to the store ahead of me and I could feel myself blushing.

When we reached the door, he rolled a cart toward me and said, "You're in charge of pushing the cart."

He led me to the automotive section and I watched him as he selected an oil filter, oil, an air filter, spark plugs and more. Then, he led me to the grocery section and said, "Beer."

I picked up a cold six pack and put it in the cart and he said, "Think again, asshole." as he loaded 3 more six packs.

After I'd paid for the purchases, he led me and the cart out to his truck. He threw his keys to me and said, "You drive. I need a beer." I'd lost count of how many he'd had but it didn't seem to have any effect on him.

We pulled out of the lot and he nursed his beer while sitting staring at me.

"What? What are you looking at?" I asked.

"I just wanted to see if being stared at made you uncomfortable, too." he said.

"Do you always make an effort to be so obnoxious or are you doing it just for me?" I said.

He chucked then and said, "I get easier to deal with as the day goes on. Mornings aren't my time and it takes me a while to get a buzz on and relax. My doctor calls it self-medicating."

"Well hurry up and medicate before I have to kick my foot up your ass." I told him.

This time he laughed out loud and said, "You're alright, kid."

Things were a lot less tense after that, he leaned back and rested his foot on the dash while he drank. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his muscular leg and how his shorts leg fell down onto his crotch, outlining the mound inside. He didn't seem at all self conscious.

We got back to my place and I pulled into the lot and parked in the space next to my car. He got out, unloaded the parts we'd bought and pulled a tool chest from behind the seat.

"Your job is to now hand me whatever I ask for and to keep the beers coming. And try to stay awake." he said.

I opened us both a beer as he popped the hood and got busy. The sun was almost directly overhead and it felt like it was at least 100 degrees. In no time, we were both drenched with sweat. He stopped work and pulled his tee shirt up over his head and tossed it onto his truck hood. I was feeling my beer and even though I'm naturally sort of shy, I did the same. When I looked back at him, he was looking at me.

His body was even more muscular than I'd thought, you could pick out the individual shapes of the muscles in his chest and belly beneath the skin. His torso looked entirely hairless except for a light treasure trail that led down into his waist band.

"You must really work out." I said.

He looked me over and then he said, "You're in pretty great shape yourself. I wouldn't have thought so from those baggy clothes."

That made me feel pretty good, coming from him. Our bodies weren't at all alike; I've got more of a swimmer type body, not bulky but firm. And, unlike him, I'm pretty hairy all over. I looked down at my chest and there were beads of sweat all over it, hanging on the curly hair.

"You ought to shave that pelt in the summer, you'd be a lot cooler." he said. "But, you wouldn't look so sexy then."

That was the last thing I expected to hear. I'm a big nerd; no one has ever called me sexy. I turned away to get us each another beer.

I handed him the beer and he went back to work. He was leaning into the engine compartment, his hips resting against the front of the car while he worked. I watched the muscles in his back as they moved under the skin. His shoulders looked wider than mine and more muscular. There was a deep groove along the line of his spine and I followed it down to where it disappeared inside his shorts. The way he was leaning, his ass buns were perfectly outlined by the wet fabric over them and the seam sat deep in the groove between his ass cheeks. Between the beer and the heat and looking at his ass, I was starting to get turned on.

"Okay, numbnuts, I need an extra pair of hands here." he said without looking over his shoulder.

I walked over and stood beside him. He was holding the air filter in place, trying to get the screw attachment to feed through the hole. It finally seemed to settle into place.

"What should I do?"

"Hold this in place while I adjust and tighten it." he said.

I leaned in beside him and tried to hold it but I couldn't reach the far side from where I stood.

"Not like that, get behind me and reach around. You've got gorilla arms; you won't have any trouble reaching."

I moved behind him and leaned forward, careful not to touch his back and ass. I wasn't able to reach it.

"You're going to have to get a lot closer than that, jerk off." he said. "Don't worry; I don't have anything you can catch."

I moved forward and leaned against him. My cock rested against his ass and as I leaned in further, my chest came to rest against his back. When I had hold of the part, he started to work on it.

"Jesus," he said, "I was hot before but having your hairy ass on top of me feels like I'm wearing a fur coat."

Against my will, my cock was staring to grow, resting in the soft crease of the ass I'd been admiring. As he made his adjustments, his hips moved against me, making it even harder for me to control my dick. I could have sworn that he was pressing his hips back against me on purpose.

He finished his adjustments and said, "It's pretty tight but I knew we could make it fit."

He stood up and I crouched down, pretending to re-tie my shoe. If I'd remained standing, my stiff dick would have been too obvious. As it was, now I was eye level with his crotch and ass. His crotch seemed fuller than before.

"Give me your keys and let me try starting it." he said and I handed them up to him. He walked around me, got inside and the engine fired right up. He revved the motor a few times and then shut it off. By now, I cock had shrunk enough that I dared to stand up. Even so, I could have sworn that he glanced at my crotch.

"You won't have any problem, now." he said. "It was just basic maintenance. Give me another beer."

We were both covered in sweat and grime.

"I left the air conditioning running. It should be pretty cool if you want to come up and hang out for awhile." I said.

"That's just what I'd like." he said. "I wish I'd brought a change of clothes, I'd like a shower, too."

"You can borrow some of mine." I said. "Come on."

"Don't forget the beer." he replied.

Upstairs, it was like jumping into a swimming pool when the cool air washed over us. I set the remaining beer on my dining table while Roger plopped down on one of the chairs.

"You go first. You look like a wet gorilla." Roger said. "I want to finish this beer, anyway. Then you can find me something to wear."

"Cool." I replied. "The bathroom is right down the hall, last door on the left, if you need anything. I'll try to hurry."

"Take your time." he replied, sipping his beer and looking at my wet chest.

I've often wondered since then if I left the bathroom door open accidentally on purpose or if it was an honest mistake. I guess it doesn't really matter.

I slipped off my wet shorts and turned on the shower and after adjusting the temperature, I stepped beneath it. I was thinking about Roger sitting so close by in the dinette and my cock started to swell, wondering what he might look like under the shower. Thankfully, I had only swelled instead of getting a hardon because a moment later I heard Roger's voice say, "Sorry, I have to piss like a Clydesdale from all that beer."

I looked up just as he came through the bathroom door. The shower was on one side of the room, there was a long sink and counter with a mirror over it on the opposite wall. The toilet was at the end of the cubicle against the back wall.

Without even looking in my direction, Roger walked up to the toilet, dropped his shorts on the floor and kicked them aside. Even over the shower I could hear a long steady stream of piss shooting into the bowl.

Looking into the mirror opposite, I could see a side view of Roger, naked at the toilet with his cock in his hand and the rounded mounds of his ass standing out. He was grinning. After shaking his dick to get the last drops off, he turned around and stepped over to lean against the vanity, facing me. I couldn't resist looking at his dick. It was a wide one, thick enough to hide his ball sack entirely from view and had a big head that was shaped like a plum. What little pubic hair he had looked like it had been trimmed recently.

"Hey, you're not the shy type, are you?" he asked. "I'm used to the military. Being naked and taking a piss in front of another guy just feels natural. I couldn't even count the number of cocks I've seen."

He hesitated and looked down at my swollen dick and then he said, "They don't usually come that big though."

He turned around and leaned forward to look into the mirror, his hips thrust back and his sculpted ass cheeks slightly parted. It wasn't light enough or I close enough to see his hole but I was sure aware that it was there. My cock started expanding and I turned my back to shield my growing hardon from view.

I began soaping up my body but I couldn't resist peeking over my shoulder every few moments. Roger was still perched in front of the mirror, examining his eyes and the scar on his face, his ass jutting out. More than once when I glanced his way he was staring back at me in the mirror.

"You've even got hairy ass cheeks." he said. "Just like some kind of Bigfoot."

My dick had grown to the point that it was standing straight up and so sensitive that the water from the shower hurt when it hit it. I was stuck, unable to turn around without putting my dick on display.

After another minute I heard Roger say, "Goddamn, if you fuck as slow as you wash your smelly ass, you must be a really popular lay."

I didn't turn around and the next thing I knew, Roger was stepping into the shower beside me.

"Move your tall ass over." he said. "I'm tired of waiting."

I moved as far as I could into the corner of the shower, my back to Roger and my cock even harder than before, just from knowing he was there. He splashed around behind me, getting himself wet and then he said, "Give me that soap."

The soap dish was right in front of me and before I had time to react, Roger had slid up against me and craned around to pick up the soap. He let out a whistling sound when he saw my dick.

"Damn, that thing is as hard a ball bat. Just about as big, too." he said. I could feel my whole body blushing from being exposed.

"Oh, hey, you don't have anything to be shy about." Roger said. "Guys pop boners all the time in the shower in the service. It's no big deal. Well, that one is a pretty big deal."

"Man, you need to toughen up." he then said. "If I had a dick that big, I'd show it off every chance I got instead of hiding it. I'm the one who ought to be hiding. Look, I've got a hardon, too, and it's only about half the size of your dick."

I glanced down at his crotch. He had his hand around the base of his dick and it was a whole lot bigger than half my size and looked about twice as thick, standing straight out above his balls. I was longer but he was thicker.

"That's a bigger than average dick, too, I'd say."

"You think so? I always thought it was kind of small."

He turned his back to me and said, "You can wash my back for me since you don't want to be seen."

I took the soap from him and began to lather his shoulders and upper back. He was solid muscle; nothing was loose enough to move under the skin as I soaped him up. I watched the suds flow down his back and disappear into his tight ass crack and my cock, which had been going down from embarrassment, suddenly roared back to life. Before I could even step back, it was rising to slide against his butt crack.

He didn't say anything except, "Let me get up in front and rinse."

He turned and slid past me, face to face, and as he did so his stiff meat banged up against the side of my own erection.

"You trying to start a sword fight?" he asked and stood under the shower head. His eyes were closed and I took the available minute to look him over. His body was about as close to perfect as I'd ever seen.

"How much time do you spend working out?" I asked.

He opened his eyes and said, "Not nearly enough. I'm usually too drunk and my shit is already starting to fall." He rubbed his hand over his ridged belly and then said, "All of the beer makes me bloat up. It won't be long before I have a pot gut."

"Gee, I wish I looked as bad as you." I said. "You look like somebody out of a porn magazine. I look like a kid next to you."

"That big dick sure doesn't look like a kid." he said with a smile. "Maybe we can get together and work out some time."

"I'd like that. You'd have to show me what to do."

"I can show you what to do." he replied and turned off the shower. We stepped out and toweled off. I wrapped the towel around my waist afterward, he slung his over his shoulder and followed me into the bedroom to borrow some clothes.