Story Orgy – Road Trip, Part Two (NSFW)

Good Story Orgy Monday morning! Welcome to the second 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.

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 … Though we’re currently taking a summer Road Trip, your Story Orgy writers are ALWAYS planning ahead! We’re drafting something very special for the December holiday season- and we’d love to have your prompts. What we need from you is 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! Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Whew! That’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part One

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Chapter Five

Preston ran his hand down Brady’s back, fingers lightly stroking the ridges of Brady’s spine. The skin beneath his touch was hot and damp with sweat, and Brady had his head down, moaning.

Another push and Preston had finally fully impaled Brady on his cock. He knelt between Brady’s legs, the man on all fours before him. Preston’s hands gripped Brady’s hips tight, pulling him back onto his cock as he thrust forward.

“Fuck, yeah,” Brady said. His voice was deep, breathless. “All the way in.”

“So deep inside you,” Preston heard himself say. “Ready?”

Brady looked over his shoulder at him, eyes flashing in the low lighting of the bedside lamp. His hair lay across his forehead in a sweaty flop. He nodded, beautiful full lips pressed tight together.

Preston pulled back and paused, the blunt tip of his cock just stretching the muscle of Brady’s threshold. He looked down to where their bodies were joined, let himself really see it for what it was, the first time he would fuck Brady Sparrow. Then he pushed back inside, thrust deep into the warm, slick grip of muscle.

“God, yeah,” Brady whispered. “Feels good.”

“Yeah,” Preston agreed. His hips had locked onto that old familiar rhythm, moved as if they had a mind of their own, pushing in, pulling back, pushing in.

“Faster,” Brady coached. “Get that ass.”

Preston complied, moving his hips faster, pushing himself in deeper. “Like that?”

“Fuck yeah.” Brady put his forehead against the sheets, pushed his hips back toward Preston.

Their groans were a deep duet of sex and satisfaction. Preston pounded harder, fingers digging into Brady’s hips as he closed his eyes, focused on the sensation of drilling deep into the man. He was getting close, so close. But he wanted Brady to come first, wanted to know he had pleasured him, fucked him to an orgasm.

But his climax was imminent, rushing toward him, sweeping him up inside its power.

A booming crash of thunder startled Preston awake. He jumped where he lay on the scratchy hotel sheets, alone, sweating, and hard as steel.

It had been another dream. Another dream about fucking Brady. Only Preston hadn’t gotten the chance to come, to see Brady come. Just like in all the other dreams he’d been having about the man as they drove across the country.

“Even in your dreams you can’t manage to close the deal, old man,” Preston grumbled. He rolled out of bed and crossed to the window to pull apart the heavy blinds. The motel they were staying in had exterior exit rooms, and Preston looked out on a narrow, covered balcony that overlooked the parking lot of the U-shaped building. In the near distance, back around Oklahoma City maybe, storm clouds clotted the sky, trading lightning bolts as thunder rumbled and crashed in time. It wasn’t raining, not yet, but it looked like they were in for a doozy of a storm.

A glance at the clock across the room made Preston sigh: 2:20 A.M. Leaving the curtains open, Preston went back to bed and sprawled nude across the sheets to think about his life.

He had discovered he was attracted to men in high school, specifically William Farthing, the student council president. He’d never acted on his attractions, however, until reaching college, and then he had been a fumbling, nervous mess. After college, he’d met and become involved with several men, even had relationships with a couple of them that lasted more than a few years. He had been attracted to these men, of course, but never felt as strong of a connection with them as he did with Brady. For some reason, the young developer had captured Preston’s heart and mind. And made Preston a nervous wreck.

“Stupid,” Preston scolded himself as lightning lit up the room. “What would a young stud like Brady want with an old guy like you?”

As if in answer, a torrent of rain lashed against the window, blown sideways beneath the balcony overhang, making Preston jump. He got up and went back to the window, squinting through the rain-washed glass, just able to make out rivulets of rainwater running through the parking lot, across the road, and into the drainage ditch on the other side.

A figure crossed in front of the window, a dark outline against another flash of lightning, and Preston gasped as he took a step back. Seconds later, someone pounded on the door to his room, and Preston’s heart seemed to gallop in his chest.

“Who is it?” he called, wincing at the nervous squeak he could hear in his voice.

“It’s Brady! Can you open the door? I’m getting soaked!”

 

Chapter Six

 Brady shivered and clutched the towel tight around his shoulders. Preston sat in the chair across the table from him, looking everywhere but in Brady’s face.

“I can’t believe the roof of your room leaked,” Preston said. He met Brady’s gaze, then his eyes flicked away. “I mean, I believe it, but it’s just so surprising.”

“You should have been lying there in bed when it happened,” Brady said, then immediately regretted it. He felt the heat of his blush, noticed Preston’s own face flush a deep crimson as the man fidgeted in his chair.

Dammit, Brady thought to himself. What the hell was he doing? And why couldn’t he get the image of Preston Brissett opening the door to his room and standing nude before him out of his head?

As Brady shivered again, he recalled feeling the wind-driven rain stinging against his bare back, felt his soaked boxers tight against his hips, crotch, and thighs. He thought about the moment when Preston had yanked open the door to his room, when the lightning had flashed and illuminated the man’s stocky, hairy body in all its glory before him, and the details that stood out to him as though he had been staring at a photograph. Preston’s quarter-sized nipples had been pink, hard and pointing right at Brady. Preston’s chest was broad, broader than it appeared beneath those button-down shirts the man wore, covered with dark blond hair that matched his trim goatee. And then Brady’s gaze had dropped to take in Preston’s cock, hanging pale and thick from the dark blond bush, his balls riding high just behind it.

Brady saw all of it in the quick flash of lightning, felt his cock twitch despite the cold water that lashed him now and had soaked him in bed, pulling him out of a dream about Preston and sending him running to the man’s room.

The bedside phone rang, loud even against the sound of the storm outside, startling them both. Preston, now wearing track pants and a T-shirt, jumped out of the chair to race across the room and answer it.

“Hello! Yes, this is he.” Preston looked at him and covered the mouthpiece to say, “It’s the hotel manager.” He went back to listening. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Not even one? I see. Yes, that would be nice. Okay, thank you.”

“Well?” Brady asked. “What did he say?”

“Good news and bad news,” Preston said. “The good news is, they’re comping both of our rooms.”

“I would hope so,” Brady said, then frowned. “What’s the bad news?”

Preston took a breath. “There are no other rooms available.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Not kidding.”

“Fuck.” Brady let out a long breath, then looked up, suddenly embarrassed at the word he had used. “Sorry. I just… It sucks to be awakened by cold water falling from the ceiling and then not have anyplace else to go.”

“Here,” Preston held out his hand. “Give me your room key and I’ll go get your things while you take a hot shower.”

Brady blinked up at him. “Room key? Shit. I didn’t think to grab it.”

Preston shrugged. “No problem. I’ll go get a key from the manager and get your things while you take a hot shower. How’s that sound?”

“Okay. I guess.” Brady thought fast, wondering if he had left anything incriminating lying around, like the condoms and lube he had packed just in case he managed to slip away and meet someone at a bar. Or the slim dildo he had brought to experiment with while he had the luxury of a room to himself and no nosy roommates listening from the other side of the wall. The long drive had left Brady too tired to try it out earlier that evening, so he thought he had left all those things in the side pocket of his bag.

“I’ll be back in a flash.” Preston scooped up the key to his own room and stepped out into the raging storm.

Brady stood up and leaned close to the window to watch Preston hurry along the balcony toward the steps, his clothes already soaked by rain. He sighed and turned to look around the room at Preston’s clothes draped over the vinyl armchair, the flattened pillows and kicked aside sheet, Preston’s wallet and phone left out on the dresser.

Pulling the curtains closed, Brady shut out the lightning and heavy rainfall. He approached the bed and lifted one of the pillows, clutching it in both hands and pressing it to his face. He took a deep breath, then sneered and tossed the pillow back on the bed. Bleach and a heavy duty detergent was the only scent he could detect, not a whiff of Preston.

He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, pausing to look over Preston’s toiletries. The disposable razor Preston used to keep the sides of his goatee trimmed. His toothbrush leaning drunkenly in a plastic drinking cup. The deodorant Preston favored, and which Brady uncapped to sniff. Definitely Preston’s normal brand, the smell of which made Brady’s cock twitch.

A heavy rumble of thunder made him jump and he set the deodorant down before turning to switch on the shower. The hot spray felt good, warmed him, soothed his anxiety. He lathered up with Preston’s body wash, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar, clean, crisp scent that made him hard. He took himself in a soapy hand and stroked slowly, thinking about Preston – the man’s strong, masculine body, the thick shaft dangling between his legs, his powerful, hairy thighs.

“Brady? I’m back!”

The door slammed, making Brady jump, and he opened his eyes as his stroke faltered. Dammit, he had been so close!

A knock on the bathroom door made him jump again, followed by Preston asking quietly, “You okay in there?”

Brady cleared his throat. “Yep. Almost done. Out in a minute. Did you get my things?”

“Got everything. Take your time.”

Brady sighed and turned his face into the spray of water as he switched the faucet from warm to cold and bit back a surprised shout. This just wasn’t his night.

 

Chapter Seven

Preston lay on his back, stiff as a board in all physical aspects as he stared at the ceiling. He could hear Brady breathing beside him, just a few inches away on the other side of the mattress. After each of them had offered to sleep on the floor, a quick inspection of the carpet had turned up an old toenail clipping as well as a yellowed cigarette butt. That was when they had both finally agreed to just share the bed.

And Preston lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling with two more hours until sunrise.

“You awake?” Brady’s voice from the darkness startled Preston and made his pulse jump.

“Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep, eh?”

“Nope. You either?”

“Nope.”

They sighed in tandem, then laughed. Lightning illuminated the room like a photo flash, followed by the angry rumble of thunder.

“Some storm,” Brady said. “Think we’ll be able to leave in the morning?”

Preston shook his head, then realized Brady couldn’t see him. “I don’t know. Not if it’s raining this hard, it would be too dangerous.”

“Guess we’d be stuck here another night sharing a bed,” Brady said, and the laugh that followed sounded nervous.

“Yeah, guess so.” Preston took a deep, quiet breath and tried to will his stomach to stop trembling.

“Never thought we’d end up in bed together,” Brady said.

Preston cursed his sudden erection, wondered how to hide it without seeming too obvious. “Yeah, me neither.”

“I mean, you’re like the wizard of the company,” Brady said, the words loose and rambling, as if he was just talking to fill the silence. “You know how to fix every problem. And I mean really fix it. You get to the root of all our code issues and make shit work right, not just slap a quick fix in place like most guys would do.”

“Well, I’ve been working a few years longer than all you youngsters,” Preston said. “And you’re learning how to do that same thing, Brady. You’re really catching on fast.”

“You think so?”

Preston turned his head to look at the shadowed outline of Brady’s profile. “Absolutely.”

Another flash of lightning illuminated Brady’s face where it was turned toward Preston, left the image burned into Preston’s brain afterward. He could see Brady’s wide eyes, full lips slightly parted, narrow nose gently upturned at the tip, and his dark hair spiraled in disarray from being wet when he’d lain down.

“Wow,” Brady whispered as the darkness fell around them again. “The lightning just now made your eyes look really blue.”

Preston swallowed hard and turned away to stare up at the ceiling again as his cock throbbed and pre-cum stained the front of his boxers. “Oh?” was all he could manage.

“Sorry,” Brady said, and laughed nervously. “I guess that sounded really gay.”

Preston clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. It was now or never. He would either get fired for sexual harassment, or he and Brady would end up together. Either way, it was up to him to make the first move. He was older, he had more experience, and Brady was just too beautiful to have to come on to anyone. Preston was sure men approached Brady all the time.

But this time, it appeared Brady was making the first move.

The heavy touch of Brady’s palm over the hot, sensitive shaft of Preston’s throbbing cock made him gasp.

“Holy shit, you’re hard as rock,” Brady said.

“Yeah,” Preston said, his voice trembling. “I have been since we left LA.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I think we need to do something about that,” Brady said, and rolled up against him.

Preston turned his head and met Brady’s mouth in a kiss. The feel of those full, perfect lips pressed against his own almost made Preston blow his load right then and there. But he controlled himself and focused on the soft, slick tip of Brady’s tongue as it moved along the seam of his lips.

Preston opened his mouth and Brady’s tongue pushed inside, tangled with Preston’s and sent chills zipping through him. Preston ran his hands along Brady’s smooth chest, amazed at the softness of the man’s skin. His thumbs flicked over Brady’s nipples, earning a groan. He rolled the hard points between his fingers as they kissed, tongues wallowing back and forth. Preston could not get enough of Brady: the man’s lips, mouth, tongue, and skin. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch, taste Brady’s skin, his sweat, his pre-cum and, finally, gloriously, his cum.

Moving down from Brady’s lips, Preston suckled at the skin that covered the area between his neck and shoulder. He nipped at the spot, then soothed it with a lick, earning a gasp from Brady.

“Oh, yeah,” Brady said. “I love having my neck sucked.”

Preston spent a few minutes indulging himself there, then moved lower to take Brady’s nipple between his teeth and give it a tug. He flicked his tongue over the reddened point and licked across the width of Brady’s chest to do the same to the other nipple. Brady groaned and writhed beneath him, the stiff length of his cock pressing into Preston’s belly.

Anxious now, Preston slid lower, trailing his tongue over Brady’s flat stomach. He pushed the cotton boxers down Brady’s legs and licked along the hard line of his cock. At the base, Preston paused to suck on the sensitive skin that joined Brady’s cock to his balls, then moved slowly back to the tip. He lapped at the clear, bitter fluid, swirled his tongue around the silken cap, then swallowed him whole.

“Oh, fuuuuuucckkk,” Brady moaned.

Preston slowly sucked Brady’s cock. He savored the mix of tastes: salty sweat and bitter pre-cum. Brady was the perfect size for Preston’s throat: long enough to fill it, but stopping just at the point of gagging. Preston painted Brady’s cock with his tongue, gripped it tight at the base, and swallowed it to the root once more. Brady writhed beneath him, rolling his head back and forth and gripping the sheet in his fists.

Releasing Brady’s cock, Preston walked on his knees along the mattress until he was between Brady’s legs. He leaned down and sucked Brady’s balls, not surprised to find them shaved smooth. Of course Brady would keep himself meticulously manscaped, he was twenty-five years old and had been raised with a flood of metrosexual imagery. Preston licked and sucked Brady’s balls, slowly raising the man’s legs in the process and allowing himself to ease his tongue lower to flick over the satin folds of Brady’s asshole.

“God, that feels so fucking good,” Brady said. “I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me.”

Preston’s cock jumped. Brady Sparrow wanted to be fucked by him. Preston couldn’t believe it. Brady was here, sprawled out before him, asking to be fucked. And it was no dream.

“Are you sure?” Preston asked.

Brady raised his head and looked down at him. “Please.”

“I don’t…” Preston swallowed as his cock throbbed – eager, it seemed, to be snug inside Brady’s ass. “I don’t have anything. For protection.”

“I do.” Brady pointed across the room. “In my shaving kit.”

Preston was across the room in a moment, digging through Brady’s shaving kit. He found several condoms and a small bottle of lube and hurried back to the bed. In moments, even with his trembling hands, Preston had rolled on the condom and slicked himself up.

Before he could get back into position between Brady’s legs, the man sat up on the mattress and put a hand on the back of Preston’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. With the other hand, Brady slowly stroked Preston’s sheathed cock.

“You’re so fat,” Brady said, his lips just touching Preston’s.

Preston pulled back. “What?”

In a flash of lightning, Preston could see Brady’s confused expression. Then Brady seemed to realize what he had said and shook his head. “No, not like that. Your cock. It’s really thick.”

“Oh.” Preston let out a low laugh, relieved. “Well, that’s good. Right?”

“Oh yeah.” Brady gave him another quick kiss and lay back, lifting his legs. “It’s really good.”

Preston moved in close, felt his cock tap against Brady’s entrance, and then he slipped inside. The hot, slick grip of Brady’s muscles closed around him, and they groaned in tandem.

“God, you feel good,” Preston said. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Brady assured him. “It feels really good.”

Preston eased himself in until he was fully seated. Pausing, he braced himself above Brady, hands fisted on the mattress. He stared down into Brady’s face barely visible in the flashes of lightning and the glow of the parking lot lights through the open blinds.

“You’re beautiful,” Preston whispered.

Brady was quiet for a long moment, and Preston wondered if he’d said something wrong. But then, finally, Brady said in a quiet voice, “No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, they should have.” Preston leaned down for a quick kiss before pulling his hips back so just the tip of his cock was inside him, just as he had dreamed.

Then he fucked him. Preston was a husky man, he realized this, and he used it to his advantage. He had wide shoulders and hips that held a lot of strength, and he knew how to work them. He pumped steadily into Brady, felt the man’s legs bounce against this shoulders, heard the “Unh,” that each thrust pushed out of Brady’s lips, smelled the sweat pouring off him and into the sheets they would sleep on later.

He tried to focus on each sensation as it spun through him. He wanted to remember this night forever, each taste, every sound, the feel of Brady beneath and around him. There would never be another first time with Brady. Hopefully there would be a second, and a third, and even more after that, but this first time was the only one they were going to get, and Preston wanted to remember it.

But it wasn’t long before Preston felt himself getting close. He blew out a heavy breath, closed his eyes, tried not to dwell on how it felt to be inside Brady, kept himself from focusing on the tight grasp of Brady’s body around him. If he could just hold off until Brady finished, Preston would be able to come without feeling like he had cheated the man. He didn’t want to slow his thrusts because Brady kept grunting encouragements, but he was almost there.

“God,” Brady said, “you’re so fucking big. You keep hitting my spot like that and I’m going to blow.”

Preston kept his eyes closed, made himself think of work, counted the number of systems stowed in the back of the van (twenty-one), the number of cables (an even fifty), and the number of states they had driven across so far (five). The distraction helped. His orgasm backed off, and he was able to pump even faster into Brady.

“Fuck yeah,” Brady cried out. “I’m coming. Yeah. Keep it going, just there. Like that. Oh, yeah.”

Brady stroked himself to a splattering climax. As the rain battered the window and thunder crashed overhead, Preston tipped back his head and let out a shout at the ceiling as he came. He saw stars behind his eyes as he emptied himself inside the condom. It felt like hours, days, weeks, and when it was over he lay atop Brady, still inside him, and let the man’s cum smear across his own belly and chest.

They shared a slow, gentle kiss as Preston slipped out of Brady. He peeled off the condom and wrapped it in a tissue, then pulled Brady into the crook of his arm.

“Was it good for you?” Preston asked, then winced up at the ceiling. How cliché could he be?

Brady chuckled, ran fingers through the hair on Preston’s chest. “Yeah, it was. I never thought we’d hook up like this.”

“Never?”

“No, I thought…” Brady stopped, seemed to consider his words. “I guess I just thought I wasn’t smart enough for you.”

Preston kissed Brady’s forehead. “Stop that talk. You’re very smart, and don’t you forget it.”

Before Brady could respond, a loud crackling-crunching-screeching sound made the hair on Preston’s arms stand up.

“What the fuck was that?” Brady asked, lifting his head and looking toward the window.

The motel shook around them, and in the parking lot car alarms screamed into the heavy rain.

Preston got out of bed, Brady following right behind, and they stood side by side at the window, squinting through the rain-washed glass.

“Are the cars moving?” Brady asked. “Or is it the rain?”

Understanding sent an arrow of cold dread through Preston. He turned from the window to grab his clothes, shouting, “Get dressed! Get dressed! It’s a flash flood!”

~~ * ~~

Oh hell, Preston and Brady are in a bit of a mess! But they had fun making messes of themselves before that flash flood hit. Boy howdy! Check back in next Monday to see what happens with this flash flood, 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, get your Christmas flash prompt ideas sent in by August 15th, and 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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One Response to Story Orgy – Road Trip, Part Two (NSFW)

  1. Holy cow, a flash flood! Was not expecting that. Love these two men of yours, Hank. They better not drown. 🙂