The Good Old Boy

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

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

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

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

“Uh… hey Nick.”

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

“What’s up?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

“Well?” he asked.

“How’d you do this?”

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

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

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

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

“Look at me, Nick.”

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

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

“I just brought it in for a tune-up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t fucking believe him.”

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

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

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

“Oh, shit, sorry dude.”

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

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

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

“Does it start?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any kids?”

“Nope.” He grinned.

“What about an ex-wife?”

“Huh-uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit--”

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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