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“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it Wayne,” Gail had said. And yes, they had been talking about the purely hypothetical situation of having either a penis for a nose or a vagina for a mouth, and Wayne doesn’t want either of those, but with all the talk of meat hoses and bumfucking that had been going on lately, a man was bound to get curious, now wasn’t he?
Wayne didn’t think himself much of a cock-looker, but if he thought about it, he would have to say he wasn’t much of a tit-looker either. He was too decent of a fella. If he thought a lass were down for some toe-curlin, he’d go up and ask her out face-to-face. But now that the bells were ringing in his ears, it was like he couldn’t stop looking at other men’s behinds when they went to go change the jukebox song at the bar and fuck, men’s asses look pert near similar to ladies’ asses now don’t they? ‘Specially when they’re encased in the same tight jeans that Wayne is ever so fond of on anyone except himself.
And that’s how Wayne ends up in the bathroom of MoDean’s with his back to the stall door and a slick out of towner’s hand down the front of his jeans. The man wastes no time kissing him, instead spitting in his hand and wrapping it around Wayne’s cock. Wayne’s only a little embarrassed about the noise that comes out of his mouth as his head shoots backwards and hits the door with a clattering thud. The man laughs and does something obscene with his thumb over the head of Wayne’s dick and fuck do big hands make light work. Wayne is cumming in no time, and he watches the man lick it off his hand like he was in Quebec and his jizz was poutine.
The man doesn’t say anything as he leaves the stall. Just as well, in Wayne’s opinion. Don’t need no discussion when Wayne ain’t even sure what’s supposed to be being discussed and fuck. This is going to be harder than he thought.
Because he thought if he got it out of his system, that would be it. But the itch stays. It gnaws at the back of his brain until he wakes up five days in a row late for chorin’ with his crotch all sticky and the fading images of pink lips and muscle fading from his mind’s eye.
So yeah, maybe Wayne is feeling a little on edge when the hockey players show up at the house later that afternoon looking for Katy (She’s out. With someone. Probably Bonnie. And if Wayne weren’t so over protective he’d be a little impressed). Maybe he’s itching for a fight. And when Jonesy pushes a little too hard about Wayne’s absence from the bar for the past week Wayne gets right in his face and backs him up to the wall. And he stops. The brunette looks at him (partially in fear, partially in confusion) when the blow he’s expecting doesn’t land, and then he looks into Wayne’s blown-out pupils and does the unthinkable. He reaches forward, ever so slowly, curls his fingers into the waistband of Wayne’s jeans, and pulls him forward. Wayne goes with it, zero hesitation. Jonesy grins and shoots a look at Reilly, who begins blushing splotchy all down his neck.
Wayne looks between them, maybe three times each, before he stares at the wall directly over Jonesy’s head and says “Up the stairs, two doors down on your right. Pitter patter,” and they all scamper upstairs like they can’t possibly move fast enough.
Once the door is slammed shut behind them, they waste no time in divesting each other of their clothing, muscles oddly sweaty and on display for each other. Before Wayne can even get his shirt completely unbuttoned, Jonesy attaches himself to his collarbone like that leech Dary got stuck in his armpit a few years ago when he didn’t listen to Squirrelly Dan’s advice nots to swims in the floods waters.
And it all hits Wayne at once that this is a lot more than he bargained for when he set off on this quest, not that he minds. But for a man whose previous homosexual experiences include a handy with no kissing and a handful of wet dreams, the sight of Reilly sinking to his knees and undoing Wayne’s jeans is a little much to handle.
Jonesy swallows the sound Wayne makes with his mouth, chasing after it with his tongue. From farther down, Reilly licks a strip up Wayne’s cock and sucks it down like a kid on Halloween. Jonesy reaches for Wayne’s hand, laying limp at his side not knowing what to do, and guides it to the back of Reilly’s blonde head. Together they entwine their fingers into his locks, guiding him up and down Wayne’s cock.
Wayne is already feeling a little in over his head, and then begins the dirty talk. If Wayne has one weakness, it’s someone quick with words telling him something interesting. And, boy, does this speech take the cake.
“You can pull his hair, he likes it,” Jonesy tells Wayne, sucking a spot on the sensitive skin under his ear. Wayne immediately gives an experimental yank and is rewarded by Reilly making an absolutely obscene sound and taking his cock in deeper. “How long have you looked at us and wondered, huh Wayne? Are they just bros, or are they doing goal practice on and off the rink, hmm?” Wayne is so distracted that he doesn’t really register Jonesy’s voice drifting away from him until he feels two hands spreading his asscheeks apart. Wayne’s eyes shoot open (When did they close? He wonders) as something warm and wet begins working against his hole. He makes eye contact with Reilly, who has the audacity of all things to wink back up at him.
Wayne doesn’t half ass things (quite literally, he supposes, in this case), so he pushes the two confused hockey players away from him and walks over to the bed, couching on all fours and looking back at them over his shoulder. The two boys grin, exchanging a borderline too-wet kiss before Reilly disappears from the room, and Jonesy returns to licking at his hole. By the time Reilly reappears in front of him, Jonesy is one finger deep and Wayne is gripping at the sheets beneath him white knuckled. Reilly pulls Wayne up and kisses him while the brunette lubes up a second finger and slides it into Wayne’s ass. He can taste his own precum on Reilly’s mouth and Jesus, that should not be as hot as it is.
Wayne loses track of how many fingers Jonesy has in him at that point. Between Reilly’s deep kisses, his hand jerking Wayne off, and Jonesy hitting that spot inside of him every few thrusts, Wayne is the least composed he’s ever been. God, he’d kill for a dart right now.
Suddenly, Jonesy’s fingers disappear from his ass. Wayne is about to say something rude when he feels the brunette’s big hand push down between his shoulder blades. His fingernails rake down Wayne’s back before a cock appears in front of his face. Wayne’s mouth waters and he knows he makes a noise but he pretends he didn’t. Reilly just grins cockily at him before he pushes his cockhead between Wayne’s lips. At the same moment, he feels a pressure-pain from his ass as Jonesy slowly sinks in him up to the hilt. They all stay there like that for a moment, not a single movement, before Wayne pulls his mouth off of Reilly with a nauseatingly loud pop and says “are you going to fuck me…or not?” Jonesy gives out an animalistic growl and begins fucking into Wayne then, and Wayne puts his mouth back on Reilly’s dick. Wayne has never felt this out of control, all his nerves are on fire and he has never felt like this before (‘cept maybe that time he accidentally touched the underside of the breaker box in the barn when he was 13). An endless stream of filth pours from Jonesy’s lips and Wayne finally (perhaps, maybe not) understands why Katy keeps these two idiots around.
Reilly is the first to cum, barely giving a warning besides scrambling for Wayne’s too short hair before shooting down his throat. Wayne didn’t mentally prepare this much in advance so he does what any self-respecting man would do: he swallows Reilly’s cum. Reilly is right there to lick the taste from his mouth, leaning over to take Wayne’s cock in his hand.
Wayne is in ecstasy. He looks up at Reilly, looks over his shoulder at Jonesy, who is gripping Wayne’s hips like they’re the life preserver and he doesn’t know how to swim. When Wayne catches Jonesy’s eye, they just nod at each other, unable to put a warning into words, and then they’re both cumming, ropes of seed shooting all over Wayne’s sheets and into his ass. Jonesy pulls out and flips Wayne onto his back and Reilly’s mouth is immediately there, licking the brunette’s spunk out of Wayne’s ass.
The rest of the evening is a blur. He remembers attempting to make the hockey players leave his bedroom before anyone else arrived home, only for Katy to walk up the stairs at that moment. What ensued was a badly coordinated game of cat and mouse where Reilly and Jonesy attempted to gather their assorted personal belongings before Katy noticed they were in the house. He watches them run out to the Jeep, a sense of security washing over him, before his sister’s voice rings out, “hey, what happened to my lube?” She appears in the doorway and immediately zeroes in on the bottle sitting on the nightstand, raising an eyebrow at Wayne. Oh. Fuck.
A week later, Wayne and Daryl are out chorin by themselves (Squirrelly Dan was busy at the dry cleaner’s one town over trying to refurbish the Pitter Paddy’s costume that was so heinously destroyed by Sammie Sammich) when Dary stops dead cold in the middle of liftin hay and says:
“I didn’t know you was gay.”
“I never said.”
“Well neither did I.”
“Daryl.”
“Wayne.”
There’s a silence.
Wayne is the first to speak. “Come ‘ere, big shoots.” Dary obediently trots over to him like a pup, his eyes wide as Wayne leans down and kisses him square on the mouth. “You up for some toe-curlin, Dar?” Dary nods a little too enthusiastically and Wayne dives back in, biting Dary’s bottom lip and eliciting a squeal from the shorter man.
They make quick moves to the back of the barn. The last thing they wanted was for someone to drive past and see them making out like teenagers. Wayne unzips the top of Dary’s jumpsuit and rucks his shirt up to expose the pale skin beneath and begins nipping along Dary’s ribcage. The sounds Dary makes echo through the barn.
And boy, is Dary loud. Wayne kisses him to muffle some of the noises, both of them working at the fly of the other’s jeans. When both of their hard cocks are exposed, Wayne breaks away just long enough to spit into his hand and wrap his palm around both of them.
Things get real messy real fast. Dary humps into Wayne’s hand, Wayne groans into Dary’s mouth, along his neck, into his collarbone, and then they’re both cumming, hips stuttering and tongues in each other’s mouths.
Wayne releases them and tucks himself back into his pants. He looks over at his best friend, still standing there, eyes wide and dick hanging out. Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder and he snaps out of it, blushing to the roots of his curly hair. He looks Wayne up and down. “We gotta clean up.”
Wayne looks down at himself and notices the quickly drying cum on his plaid shirt. “Fuck.” Dary takes his shirt off and begins to mop up what he can, although both of them know they’ll end up having to change anyway. While he works, Wayne observes the bruising love bites he left along Dary’s chest and preens, just a little. Dary tosses his shirt in the corner and zips his jumpsuit back up, bringing Wayne back to Earth. He’s feeling a bit light-headed.
Wayne pulls out a cig, but before he lights it, he walks over to Dary and gives him a chaste kiss before he can think twice. Dary blinks at him with his big eyes. “What was that fer?”
The lighter clicks and Wayne is out the barn door faster than a room clears after a fart. “Figure it out.”