Story Orgy Road Trip – Part Four (NSFW)

Good Story Orgy Monday morning! Welcome to the fourth of FIVE Road Trip story posts, hot smexy reads intended to capture that summer road trip feeling. My story was inspired by the prompts sent in by Myristica Onenine: workaholic businessman, travel west coast to east coast, flash flood. From those three items I came up with a story titled Cross Country Foreplay. After a few announcements, we’ll get back on the road with Brady and Preston … also known as BSB.

To celebrate Breathless Press’s 3rd Birthday and the new website, Havan and Lee have some short free reads available for download. Did you get the fact that they are FREE?! Lee’s story, Nothing to Forgive, is HERE. And Havan’s Lucky Night, is HERE.

And, have you downloaded Lee Brazil’s Naughty Nursery Rhyme, It’s Simple, Simon yet? It’s available from Breathless Press HERE.

Also Breathless Press related… Jump on into the BP Scavenger Hunt Birthday Blog Hop, starting this Friday, August 24, and running all weekend! A number of BP authors will be acting as hosts. Hop from blog to blog to find the secret letter at each site, decode the message, and you could win lots of great prizes! Each author is hosting a give-away, and the Grand Prize from Breathless Press is 50 books from their library! That’s a $150 value! The hop gets going on Friday morning, so get up early and get… well, hopping!

Em Woods’s story of love in desperate times, Holding On, is available HERE for pre-order from Total e-Bound Books. Click on over and reserve your copy today!

Finally … We’ve extended the date for our Christmas prompts! We need just a few words…a person (not a name), a place, and a thing…at least one item should be holiday related…for example…

person- Accountant
place- bank lobby
thing- gingerbread man

That’s it. Your prompts could be selected to inspire a story for And The Prompt Is, The Holiday Edition Volume 2.

Feel free to leave your suggestion in a comment here, or email it to storyorgy(at)ymail(dot)com.

Whew! Okay, that’s it! Rest stop is over, time to jump back in the station wagon and hit the open road! Let’s see how far Brady and Preston have gotten … and I don’t just mean on the road!

Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Wow, that’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part Four

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Chapter Eleven

 The next day, Brady took the first shift behind the wheel, and, by the time he had driven eight hours, his shoulders and neck were tight. He pulled off at a truck stop where they ate greasy food, then Preston took the keys. When Preston shifted into gear, however, he didn’t pull out on the road as Brady had suspected, but circled the building to a secluded parking spot tucked away behind the big rigs. There, Preston kissed him, goatee soft as it brushed Brady’s lips, Preston’s tongue now a familiar guest inside his mouth.

“I think you earned a bit of a reward for that long driving shift,” Preston said and, with a smile, put his face in Brady’s lap.

Brady stared at the tires of the rig parked in front of them as Preston sucked him, amazed that this man with his cock down his throat was the same Preston Brissett he worked with side by side on a daily basis. He had never imagined Preston would be open to sex in public, or cum eating, or as much of a top as he had proven to be. Every time Brady thought about Preston pumping into him, the man’s thick, blunt cock spreading his ass open and driving in deep, he wanted to come on the spot. All the men Brady had met in bars and at parties were narrow hipped and more submissive than he liked. Maybe that was why none of his relationships worked out; Brady just needed someone older, someone more confident and dominant. He had needed Preston.

The hot, wet tunnel of Preston’s mouth tightened around him even more and Brady hissed in a breath. “I’m really close.”

Preston moaned a response and picked up the pace of his sucking.

Brady’s climax rushed through him, lighting up parts of his brain and – if he really thought about it, his heart – that had been dark for as long as he could remember.

Preston milked him dry, then sat up, smiled, and kissed him softly on the lips. “Damn, your cum tastes good.”

“Glad you like it,” Brady said as he tucked himself back inside his jeans. “I was up all night baking it just for you.”

With one more kiss, Preston started the van again and pulled out of the truck stop parking lot. “Next stop, Boston. We’re going to have to work pretty late to get the training stations set up for tomorrow morning.”

Brady smiled and yawned. “Okay. Maybe I’ll grab some shut eye for a bit.”

“You do that, babe,” Preston said and winked at him before turning back to the road. “I’ll wake you up if anything interesting happens.”

“Sounds good.” Brady slouched in the seat and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, someone was gently shaking him awake.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. We’re here.”

Brady blinked, squinted against bright lights in his eyes, and turned to see Preston leaning over him from the driver’s seat. Preston’s face, even more handsome than Brady remembered, was half in shadow from the tall lights outside the windshield.

“Huh?” was all Brady could manage.

Preston smiled, trailed his hand down over Brady’s chest and stomach to drop into his lap for a gentle squeeze. “We’re at the hotel in Boston. You wake up and I’ll go check us in.”

The door opened and Preston was gone. Brady sat up in his seat and rubbed his eyes, then looked around. The skyline of Boston, or what he assumed was Boston since he’d never been, was laid out before him, glittering against the night sky.

Brady stepped out of the van, stretched, and took a deep breath. He could smell the heavy damp and static charge from an approaching storm on the air, wondered if it was the same storm they had ridden out back in Oklahoma. Before he could ponder the thought too much, Preston came back, pulling a wide flatbed cart.

“Ready to work?” Preston asked with a grin and threw open the back doors of the van.

“Let’s do it,” Brady said with a nod, and moved to help lift out the equipment.

* * * * *

At ten minutes til two a.m., Brady connected the final terminal and got to his feet. He had wolfed down a sub for dinner a few hours earlier and now was hungry for something a little more organic. Something like the long, thick length of Preston’s cock.

Brady walked up the aisle between tables loaded with computer terminals. He stopped to lean against the table next to where Preston kneeled taping loose cables down on the carpet. Preston looked up at him, eyes shifting to take in the rounded bulge of Brady’s hard on, then back to meet Brady’s gaze.

“Really?” Preston asked with a grin. “You’re not completely exhausted?”

Brady lifted his eyebrows. “Are you tired, old man?”

Preston’s eyebrows shot up, then he jumped to his feet and pulled Brady tight against him. A hungry kiss followed, tongues trading invasions back and forth as Preston groped Brady’s crotch through his jeans.

“You think I can’t perform after driving cross country and living through a flash flood?” Preston asked.

Before Brady could respond, a heavy rumble of thunder reverberated through the hotel. They looked at each other wide-eyed for a minute, then Brady said, “Might want to amend that to say two flash floods.”

Preston kissed him again. “Don’t even joke about that.” He took Brady by the hand. “Let’s go up to the room.”

Brady followed Preston to the elevator, dropping his gaze to the man’s ass. It looked round and tight beneath his jeans, and Brady’s cock twitched. The khakis Preston wore to the office never showed off his ass like this. Brady wanted to push his face into the crack and tongue Preston’s sweaty hole.

They made out in the elevator as it lifted them to their floor. Giggling like love-struck school girls, they walked briskly down the hall to Preston’s room. The moment the door shut behind them, they were all over each other. Kissing, groping, stroking, stripping off clothing. Finally nude, they stood at the foot of the bed and embraced. Preston’s broad, hairy body was damp with sweat. Brady tasted it as he ran his tongue down through the hair to suck at Preston’s nipples. He moved lower, let his tongue run laps around Preston’s navel, then lower still where he paused to press his nose into the wiry bush of his pubic hair and breathe in the musky smell of him.

Preston’s cock filled his mouth, tasted salty against his tongue as he sucked him hard and deep. Preston groaned above him, and Brady slipped a finger behind his balls to work it into the tight ring of muscle.

“Yeah,” Preston said, voice deep with need. “Get that finger in deep.”

Brady pumped his finger in and out, Preston’s own sweat acting as a natural lubricant. When he could stand it no longer, Brady let Preston’s cock drop from between his lips and put his hands on the man’s hips to turn him around. Brady licked his lips as he spread the firm, hairy cheeks of Preston’s ass to expose the pink ridges of his anus. He had never shied away from rimming, but it was never something he really looked forward to indulging in. Until now. Suddenly, Brady couldn’t get his tongue in enough places of Preston’s body. He wanted to know the taste, feel, and smell of every inch of the man.

Pressing his face into the sweat-damp valley, Brady licked the twitching folds of Preston’s hole. The taste of him exploded across Brady’s tongue – salty and delicious – and he drilled his tongue deep into the center of Preston, then deeper still.

“Fuck yeah,” Preston said with a groan. “God, you’re good at that. You’re driving me so fucking crazy. I want you to fuck me.”

Brady moaned into Preston’s asshole. He licked and sucked at the tender opening a moment longer, then pulled back to ask, “You sure?”

Preston turned and bent down to kiss him hard. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure. Get the condoms and lube.”

In moments, Brady was suited and slicked up. Preston lay on his back across the bed, legs on Brady’s shoulders. As Brady aimed the glistening tip of his cock at Preston’s threshold, he locked his gaze on Preston’s blue eyes and watched the man’s expression as he pushed slowly, steadily into him.

Once he was fully inside, Brady paused to run his tongue up the calf of Preston’s left leg, then, with a smile, he fucked him. His hips found a rhythm Brady never knew he had learned and each thrust pushed a grunt from Preston. Brady was in a zone, so in tune with the rush and retreat of his actions he didn’t realize Preston was close until the man let out a gasp.

Cum shot up to Preston’s chin with the force of his climax. Brady felt Preston’s muscles tighten around his cock with each pulse of his orgasm, and the feeling toppled him off the edge into ecstasy. He shot his load into the condom buried inside Preston at the same time that lightning forked across the sky beyond the window.

Preston turned his head to look at the night beyond the glass, then met Brady’s gaze and said, “Here we go again.”

Chapter Twelve

They managed a few hours’ sleep, Brady tucked into the crook of Preston’s arm. Preston felt Brady’s breath warm against his chest and drifted off to sleep as rain beat against the window.

The alarm went off what seemed like minutes after Preston had fallen asleep, and he forced himself to roll out of bed. Storm clouds huddled low over the city, pelting everything below with rain. Preston rubbed his hands over his face, tried to rub the sleep away, or some energy into himself, but it did neither. He looked at Brady snoring quietly in bed, one leg tossed on top of the covers, the calf plump with muscle and softly furred. He was still surprised at their role reversal last night. Preston had never been a fan of getting fucked, but Brady had fit so perfectly inside his throat, Preston had wanted to take the man up his ass as well. And it had been a hell of a ride. Never before had he been able to just lie back and relax, let a partner fuck him with abandon.

Brady sighed in his sleep and shifted position, exposing the curve of one ass cheek. Before he could get any ideas about how to wake Brady up, Preston headed to the bathroom. They had a full day of training ahead of them, and he wanted to make sure the systems they’d set up the night before had been done correctly.

When it came to prep, Preston was a master. He shaved around his goatee, trimmed it with scissors, showered, and combed his hair, wincing slightly at the sight of his bald spot reflecting back in the side mirror. He looked his reflection in the eye, tipped his chin up higher, nodded, then strode nude from the bathroom. Might as well give Brady a look before he got dressed.

Brady was sitting up in bed, yawning and blinking. They both jumped at a heavy crack of thunder, then laughed at themselves.

“Still a little jumpy about storms, I guess,” Brady said. His gaze moved slowly down then up Preston’s body. “Now that’s a continental breakfast.”

Preston narrowed his eyes. “Did you just infer that I’m as large as a continent?”

Brady opened his mouth, closed it, then held up a finger. “No time. We need to be downstairs.”

He fled into the bathroom and Preston slapped his bare ass hard on the way past.

It took longer for Brady to shave and shower and style his hair, not a surprise to Preston. The pretty ones, the ones who didn’t need to primp, always took longer.

They touched and fondled as they walked back and forth from their suitcases to the bathroom, dressing and brushing their teeth and doing last minute preparations. When Brady ducked into the bathroom and closed the door, Preston felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out.

A text message was waiting. It was from Phillip Holt, the snobby, holier than thou developer who worked alongside Brady. Preston furrowed his brow and touched the screen to see the bubble larger.

OMG. You did not fuck BSB!

Preston frowned as a cold thread of nerves stitched through his gut. How did Phillip know he and Brady had consummated a relationship? And what the hell did BSB stand for? He decided to keep things simple, for now, and tapped his response on the screen: BSB?

A moment later the phone buzzed in his palm. His mouth went dry and a hard knot of ice seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach as he read the message.

Bald Spot Brissett, duh! Did he fuck you senseless?

Obviously, Preston had picked up Brady’s phone. But the nickname cut into him, bled out his affection for Brady. Bald Spot Brissett? That was what they called him behind his back at the office? Did they really have so little respect for him? And Brady knew about it? Then what had all of this been on their drive east? Just a joke? A prank to play on Bald Spot Brissett and laugh about it when they got back to the office?

The bathroom door opened and Brady stepped out. He held Preston’s phone in his hand and had a small smile on his face. “I think we got our phones mixed up. I couldn’t find Angry Birds and was about to lose it until I noticed it was yours.”

Brady must have seen something in Preston’s face, because he stopped and frowned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Preston handed over Brady’s phone and snatched back his own. “Nothing. Let’s go. We’ve got training to deliver.”

A sad, icy ache filled Preston’s chest as he walked down the hall, Brady hurrying to keep up, asking him what was wrong, what he had done. But Preston didn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him, because he was afraid he’d lose control of his emotions. He might get angry and shout at Brady. Or worse, he might cry in front of him. And he didn’t want to do that. He couldn’t let Brady know just how much he had started to mean to him, how much their few days driving east had opened him up and let Preston hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy with someone.

He jabbed the elevator button and stood staring at the line between the doors, distracting himself by thinking of how far apart the doors would be when they opened. He imagined that same spreading distance now between himself and Brady.

“Dammit, Preston,” Brady snapped. “Stop acting like a thirteen-year-old girl and just fucking tell me what’s wrong!”

Preston whipped his head around to glare at Brady, feeling his anger and hurt blaze in his eyes. Brady saw it, too, because he took a step back and his eyes widened. Before Preston could say a word, the elevator arrived. He stormed into the car, pressing the buttons for the lobby and to close the door at the same time. Brady jumped through the narrowing gap of the closing doors just in time and stood silent in the back corner.

As he watched the floor numbers change above the door, Preston heard Brady tapping the screen of his phone. A moment later, Brady gasped, then grabbed his arm, already talking.

“No, Preston,” Brady said. “That’s not what this was. I never called you that. I was just trying to tell Phillip how different you were… How different you are. Different than what they think. I –”

Preston yanked his arm out of Brady’s grasp. He turned to shoot a withering glance at Brady where the man cowered in the corner of the elevator, timing it perfectly with another rolling growl of thunder. The elevator announced its arrival in the lobby with a merry ding and he turned to stride through the still parting doors. Breathing deep to calm his racing pulse, Preston marched down the hall to the conference room where they had set up for training.

A few class members were already seated, introducing themselves and talking with cups of coffee perched near their keyboards. Preston focused on the instructor’s terminal at the front of the room, kept his gaze on the keyboard as he logged into the system. He needed to get in an instructor’s headspace, push aside his feelings of betrayal and anger. Slowly, so slowly, he felt his temper soften, found his way into a more open space.

Brady followed him into the room and Preston watched from the corner of his eye as the man stopped short at the sight of the class participants already seated at the terminals. Brady hovered in the doorway, eyes darting back and forth between Preston and the class. He approached Preston, lips parted as if to say something, but Preston glared him into silence. Now was not the time or place.

The glare did its trick, and Brady backed off. It was easier to find his way to a clear headspace the second time, and Preston looked up at the class members and smiled. He could do this, he would get through this class. And afterward, he was going to put Brady’s things in the hall outside his room and go to bed. Alone.

Chapter Thirteen

Brady was miserable. More than miserable, he was grieving.

He sulked at the back of the room and watched Preston pace dozens of feet and an immeasurable emotional distance away from him. They had discussed their training roles during the drive, and Brady’s was to hover in the back of the room to assist that half of the class. Now, as Preston strutted around the front of the room, talking about the system and drawing visual representations on a flip pad of paper, Brady could not help but be drawn even more to the man. Preston was lit up, his eyes bright and his smile quick as he interacted with the class. Brady could feel the connection between Preston and the people around him and he envied it. He’d had an even closer connection with Preston on the drive east, and he felt like an outcast from everyone and everything going on around him. He wanted, needed, to get back that relationship with Preston.

A chilly fear filled Brady, fear that he’d never again see the intense expression of attraction and – dare he think it? – love, on Preston’s face again. Never taste Preston’s kiss, feel his touch, savor his cock in his mouth, and take it up his ass.

All because of stupid, asinine Phillip Holt. How could Phillip have sent that text message? Brady had spent the better part of the afternoon texting Phillip while Preston had been driving. He had answered Phillip’s questions, told him how different Preston was than Phillip liked to think. But then Phillip had to take it and read between the lines, understand what Brady was trying to tell him without Brady coming right out and saying it, and then call him out on it. Brady should have known better than to say anything to Phillip, but he had wanted, needed to share his experience with someone. And Brady had hoped that he could make Phillip understand the real Preston.

But Phillip was too immature, too superficial, to be able to make that leap. And he had belittled Brady and Preston in that text message.

And Preston had had to see it.

Thunder rumbled through the hotel, and the class jumped, then laughed nervously at themselves. The lights flickered and Preston met Brady’s gaze for a quick, heart-stopping moment before returning his attention to the class once more. With a smile, Preston said, “Well, I think that means it’s a good time for a break. Come back in twenty minutes.”

The group got to their feet and milled around, trapping Brady near the back of the room. He had to talk to Preston, but was blocked from getting to him. Instead, he watched helplessly as Preston strode out of the room without so much as a glance in Brady’s direction.

“Excuse me,” Brady said to a small cluster of people that stood chatting in front of him. “Sorry, pardon me.”

He slipped through them, dodged around another woman bending over to pick her purse up off the floor, and then trotted out the door of the conference room. Thunder snarled again, shook the hotel. Through the windows of the main lobby, Brady could see the rain coming down in sheets. He looked around the lobby, then down the hall toward the elevators. Preston stood before the doors, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

With a fast walk, Brady headed that way. His stomach was knotted with tension. Adrenaline pumped through him, making his heart bang inside his chest. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he had to talk to Preston, had to make him understand that, yes, Brady had known about the nickname, but no, he had not invented it or used it. Preston needed to understand why Brady had been texting Phillip. Brady had to make him see that he had been trying to tell Phillip how different Preston was, how wrong Phillip was about him. He had to make Preston understand what this week driving cross country with him had meant.

The elevator doors opened and Preston stepped out of sight. Brady gasped and put on a burst of speed. He slipped between the closing doors, and ended up in the back corner from the speed of his rush. Preston turned to glare at him.

“I wanted to be alone,” Preston said.

“You can be alone when we’re done talking,” Brady said, trying to put steel in his voice. He didn’t like small spaces, elevators in particular, but he pushed that aside and held his hands palms up. “Look, I know you’re hurt. And angry. But you have to know that I have never called you by that nickname.”

Preston snorted. “Really?”

Brady nodded. “Really.”

“Never?”

“Not once.” Brady crossed his heart. “Swear.” Brady’s limbs shook and a cold chill rattled along his spine. He was terrified. Terrified he would say the wrong thing and lose his chance to patch things up with Preston forever. He only had another two floors with Preston inside the elevator, and he had to make the time count. But what to say? The truth?

Preston sighed and looked away. “I can’t say I’m surprised by it.” He looked back, eyes narrowed. “But I was hurt.”

“Again, I have never called you that. Phillip Holt came up with the nickname.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “Holt. Figures. Most creativity he’s shown in years.”

Before Brady could respond, a savage crack of thunder slapped against the building. The elevator shook and then came to an abrupt stop. The overhead light died, leaving them in pitch darkness. Brady reached out to grab hold of the railing at waist level, fingers tight on the steel as his breath seemed to stop in chest. He could feel the dark squeezing in close against him, pressing heavy hands on his chest, then reaching down his throat to stop his breath.

From across the elevator, he heard Preston’s calm voice ask, “Brady? You okay?”

 ~~ * ~~

Preston and Brady are really having a time on this road trip! Check back in next Monday to see if they can help each other out of that elevator. And don’t forget that all this month I’m re-posting the first four chapters of my paranormal story, Critter Catchers, every Wednesday as the Road Trip stories play out. Think of them as the Story Orgy version of summer reruns, getting you ready for Demetrius and Cody to return in September. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy Road Trip reads!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor


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2 Responses to Story Orgy Road Trip – Part Four (NSFW)

  1. Myristica says:

    WOW! Aaack! Brady! Incredible set-up for the next installment. Can’t wait to see how these two get out of the elevator, or how Preston is going to calm Brady’s oncoming (it seems) panic attack. =)
    Great story, hon! =)

  2. Excellent post. I was checking continuously this blog and I