— Originally published in Inches magazine - October, 1995 —
How much cockmeat can fit in the back of a pickup truck?
"God damn, it's hot out here," Tub whined, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.
"Maybe if you took that suit off you'd be a bit more comfortable," Buddy drawled as he reclined in the back of his pickup. He pulled a beer out of the styrofoam ice chest beside him and popped the lid. He took a long swig, letting out a satisfied belch afterward.
"Gross," Tub muttered. He curled his lip and surveyed the brown water of Cattle Cross Creek. The air smelled faintly of honeysuckle and dead fish. "I don't see why we had to come out here anyway."
"Stop bitchin' and get outta that suit," Buddy said.
Tub eyed his friend, who was resting on his elbows and letting the August sun beat down on his bare chest. He noticed the denim of Buddy's cut-offs was practically worn through around the crotch. Tub wet his lips and took off his coat and threw it in the.bed of the rusty Ford. Then he loosened his polyester tie, careful not undo the Windsor knot, and slid it over his head. After unbuttoning the top button of his sweat-stained shirt and rolling up his sleeves, Tub seemed content to let his strip-tease end there.
"Much better," Tub sighed.
"Man, I can't stand it," Buddy said dryly. "I meant take it all off." "I don't know," Tub said. "We're outside an' all. What if someone sees?"
"Ain't no one goin' to see. Strip," Buddy commanded.
Carefully, Tub removed the rest of his gray polyester suit. It was Sunday, so he had been dressed for church. In fact, he was supposed to be at a revival at this very minute, but he had feigned illness so he could visit Buddy. He had hoped they could just stay at Buddy's house, but he shared it with his older brother. Buddy's brother, who usually worked on weekends, was off work and was expecting his girlfriend to visit. He told Buddy and Tub earlier to stay the hell out.
"No problem," Buddy had said calmly, grabbing a six-pack out of the fridge. "Me an' Tub'll go to the creek."
Didn't bother to ask me, Tub had thought sullenly.
"Whoa, where'd you get them panties!" Buddy chortled when Tub stepped out of his trousers. Tub was wearing an ill-fitting nylon G-string adorned with a snakeskin pattern. Tub thought they were sexy. Buddy thought they were the silliest damn thing he'd seen since Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.
"I got 'em in New Orleans, when I was with Mama and Daddy at that church convention," Tub said defensively. "You don't like 'em?"
"They look stupid," Buddy said with a grin, hoping Tub would just take the damn thing off. But instead, Tub simply folded his pants, draped them over the side of the truck bed, and took a seat on the open tailgate. He began to pout.
Buddy rolled his eyes and took another beer from the cooler. He placed the cold, wet can against Tub's neck. Tub let out a high-pitched squeal and whirled around to face Buddy. Glaring at him, he snatched the can from his hands and opened it. White foam shot out of the can, spraying Tub's bare legs. "Shee-it!" Tub moaned.
Buddy chuckled. He and Tub had been friends since junior high, when Tub's family first moved to Deerhead, Georgia. Tub's father was the preacher at Pentecostal Church and wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. Consequently, Tub's life had been miserable and the only solace he found was in double-chocolate snack cakes and cola. At age twelve, Tub had the physique of a sumo wrestler, which invited the cruelty of his peers. This sent Tub into a depression that could only be relieved by consuming a family-size bag of potato chips.
Because he didn't want to draw any attention to himself that might result in more vicious taunts, Tub always sat in the back of the class, which was also the part of the room Buddy favored. Buddy didn't want to draw any attention to himself that might cause a teacher to ask him a question relating to a chapter he hadn't read or homework he hadn't done. Soon, Buddy and Tub had struck up a friendship that was mutually beneficial. Buddy, who was lean, good-looking and tough, would protect Tub from his merciless classmates. Tub, in turn, would let Buddy copy his homework.
In the back of the pickup, Buddy slid his arm around Tub. "Just relax," he purred. Tub's face began to turn bright red.
Tub had transformed since his roly-poly days of junior high. After spending most of his high school years in a strict boarding school, Tub had lost the fat. Now, at age nineteen, he looked fairly athletic, though his face remained full and boyish. But even though the fat was gone his nickname, Tub, could not be shaken. In fact, most people had forgotten Tub's real name. Tub didn't mind, though; he had a lot of other nicknames that were much worse.
Buddy began to massage his friend's shoulders. Tub froze. "Not out here!"
"Why not out here? Don't tell me you just wanna stare at the trees."
"Someone could see us," Tub protested.
Buddy grunted and took another swig of his beer. Tub had developed an acute fear of being caught, since that time his mom had walked in on him jacking off. It was during the first week of his freshman year of high school; he had come home from school to find the house empty. His mom had left a note saying she was out shopping. Grabbing a bag of cookies from the pantry, Tub retreated to his room. As he sat on his bed, scarfing cookies, he reflected on his gym class experience. He always hated gym, and still did. But there were small rewards. In high school, he discovered, students were required to shower after the class. Despite the fact that he had nothing to be embarrassed about in the dick department, Tub hated getting undressed in front of others. But he relished the sight of other boys, particularly one: Woody Tyler. Woody was a junior and fully developed. His body was tan and muscular. His armpits had sprouted thick, black hairs and he had an equally generous bush at his crotch. Jutting out from that patch of pubic hair was a long, thick cock. It was the first time Tub had seen a fully developed penis, and he was spellbound. Of course, Woody had to spoil the moment by turning to him and shouting angrily, "What're you lookin' at, faggot?"
Tub chose not to dwell on that part. Thinking of the sight of Woody's gorgeous body and his adult dick got Tub horny. Brushing the crumbs off his chest, Tub wiggled out of his jeans and underwear. He reached beneath his massive gut, took hold of his own dick and began to pound his fat adolescent pud in a frenzy.
Then he heard the blood-curdling scream of his mother, who was standing at his door. Their eyes met briefly, then Tub's mother ran downstairs crying hysterically. She immediately called his father, who rushed home. After being whipped with his father's belt and lectured about the "devil's temptations," Tub was sent off to the Bible Academy boarding school where, ironically, he learned to do things even more pleasurable than masturbation.
Things like what Buddy was wanting to do now, in the back of a pickup truck where just anybody walking by could see. Buddy began to unbutton the fly of his cut-offs. "You say yer not into it, but I bet I could change yer mind," he teased.
Tub turned to watch as Buddy shimmied out of his shorts. Naked, he leaned back soTub could appreciate the view. Buddy was six feet tall, and his body was defined by smooth muscles. His face was narrow and angular, and his ice-blue eyes had an impish quality. His dark, curly hair hung down to his shoulders. Tub admired all of these physical attributes, but the one he most admired was Buddy's eight-inch uncut cock, which was now hard. The foreskin was rolled back, exposing the plump, red crown. Buddy was stroking it slowly.
"Looks like you're comin' 'round," Buddy said, his eyes fixated on Tub's crotch. Tub's erect dick was poking out of the top of his ridiculous G-string.
Without saying a word, Tub leaned forward. First, he nuzzled Buddy's chest, inhaling the salty scent of his skin. Then, moving down his torso, Tub flicked his tongue into Buddy' s belly-button, causing him to giggle (he was ticklish). Finally, Tub turned his attention to his friend's cock. He swallowed it wolfishly, feasting on every inch. With his tongue, he toyed with the soft flesh of Buddy's foreskin and slurped the head of his pulsing dick.
Buddy began to moan softly. Next to Loralee Nebbitt, the town slut, Tub was reputed to be the best cock-sucker in Sawyer County. Buddy couldn't vouch for Loralee, but he knew Tub's reputation was well-deserved. As he ran his fingers through Tub's closely cropped, strawberry-blond hair, which was sticky with hairspray, Buddy groaned. "Oooooh, man. Suck on it."
"What're you two boys up to?" an unfamiliar voice called out.
Tub let out a shriek and leapt out of the truck bed. He ran down to the creek's bank and dove in, disappearing beneath the muddy water. When he broke through the surface again, he called out in a shrill cry, "Just goin' for a swim!"
Buddy turned his attention to the direction of the voice. Walking through the trees, down a small hill, was a man he'd never seen before. Buddy guessed he was a little older than he and Tub, maybe late twenties or early thirties. His arms were thick with muscles, and his chest stretched the fabric of his faded shirt. His legs bulged within his tattered blue jeans. Buddy could see the outline of the stranger's prick through the faded denim.
The man approached the truck. Buddy noticed he was carrying a purple nylon backpack over one shoulder.
"Yer friend's a bit high-strung, ain't he?" the stranger commented.
"Now, just stupid," Buddy drawled. "Somethin' we could do fer you?" He was still buck-naked and had drawn his knees up to his chest.
The stranger motioned toward the ice chest. "One of them beers would be nice."
Buddy eyed the man suspiciously, then pulled a beer out of the cooler and handed it to the man.
"Much obliged," the man said, opening the can and gulping almost half of its contents in one swallow. "Mind if I sit a spell?" he asked, smacking his lips.
Buddy minded, but what he said was, "Shurr, help yourself." He wished the guy would just go back up the road to continue his journey, and leave him and Tub to their dick-play.
The man hopped onto the truck bed and sat down beside Buddy. He let his backpack drop, then brushed the sun-bleached hair away from his eyes and looked out at the creek, where Tub was splashing about aimlessly. Chuckling, the man turned to Buddy. "The name's Muscle," he said, holding out his hand. "Not my real name; it's just what folks call me."
Buddy shook his hand. "Mine's Buddy. It's my real name and what folks call me."
He noticed Muscle had a tattoo on his upper arm. It was a very poor amateur job, so Buddy couldn't decide if it was supposed to be a dollar sign or a dagger with a snake wrapped around it.
Muscle smiled and began to untie his work boots. "Gotto get these things off for a while. That walk's killin' me."
"You hitchhikin'?" Buddy asked.
"Yeah, headin' up toward Memphis. Got a friend who lives up there."
Buddy didn't ask Muscle where he was coming from.
After removing his shoes and threadbare socks, Muscle stripped off his shirt. "Might as well soak up a few rays m'self. Looks like you don't like tan lines yerself."
Buddy was suddenly self-conscious about being undressed and started to reach for his cut-offs, but Muscle stopped him. "Hey, don't be shy 'bout it. You ain't got nothing you need to hide from me."
Their eyes met for a second. Buddy's heart raced. He sensed something about Muscle that both excited and frightened him. Buddy turned away and shouted: "Hey, Tub! You can stop pretending you're swimmin' an' join us. He's OK!"
Cautiously, Tub scurried up the bank and walked to the truck. His cock had retreated back into that ridiculous G-string.
"This here's Muscle," Buddy said. Then, his tone growing sarcastic, he added, "It ain't his real name, in case you couldn't figure it out."
Tub, who liked the array of rippling and bulging flesh that was Muscle's namesake, smiled broadly and shook the newcomer's hand. "Hi, I'm Tub. It's actually Tobias, but everyone calls me Tub on account of I used to be fat."
"Hi, Tub," Muscle said. "Where'd you get them fancy underpants?"
Tub's eyes darkened. "New Orleans," he said sullenly.
Muscle smiled. "Why don't ya come up here an' join us?" he said, scooting closer to Buddy to make room for Tub. Tub climbed into the truck bed, dripping water on Muscle as he sat down beside him.
Gulping the remainder of his beer, Muscle crushed the can with one hand and tossed it over the side of the truck bed. Then he started to unbutton the fly of his jeans. "Feel a bit over-dressed," he announced.
Buddy and Tub watched silently as their uninvited guest stripped off his blue jeans. like Buddy, Muscle didn't wear underwear. Tub's eyes widened. The guy had a dick like a mule. It was dark and heavy and had to be seven inches even soft. This was even better than Woody Tyler's massive equipment, Tub thought.
Muscle turned and caught Tub's stare. Fear flickered through Tub's eyes momentarily, but Muscle just grinned. "It's a monster, ain't it?" he said. Then he turned his attention to Buddy, who was equally impressed by Muscle's cock. "God was good to you, too, it seems," Muscle said, his eyes moving to Buddy's crotch.
Buddy's heartbeat quickened. Something was about to happen; he could feel it. He just hoped it wasn't something dangerous.
Leaning down, Muscle circled one of Buddy's dark brown nipples with his index finger and whispered in his ear: "Seems I should repay you fer that beer."
Buddy remained silent. He cast his gaze downward to see Muscle's cock beginning to stiffen, as was his own. Muscle reached down and curled his palm around Buddy's growing rod. "Seein' how I ain't got no money, guess we'll have to work something out."
With that, Muscle rose to his knees. His cock was positioned above Buddy's face, beckoning him. Hesitantly, Buddy reached up and took hold of the man's erect prick. He let his hand caress its length a few times, then raised his head up toward it. Opening his mouth wide, he let Muscle feed his enormous dick down his throat.
Tub's lower jaw dropped. Not only because the scene that was playing itself out before his eyes had his cock squirming within the confines of the much-ridiculed G-string, but because Buddy seldom gave head. If Tub weren't so horny, he'd be mad, thinking back on how he had to beg Buddy to suck his dick and usually had to be content with a hand-job instead. Now he was eagerly swallowing the meat of someone they had met moments earlier.
Muscle placed his hands on Buddy's head and began to gyrate his hips. He turned and looked at Tub. "Hey, yer invited to the party, too, friend," he said.
Tub immediately leaned forward and placed his cheek against Muscle's ass. It was so firm and round. Tub placed his hands on either side of Muscle's butt-cheeks and let his tongue burrow into his ass-crack. Muscle groaned, enjoying the feel of Buddy's hot mouth on his cock and Tub's moist tongue flittering at his ass. Soon he was panting hard, and his body began to tremble.
Buddy had disengaged his mouth from Muscle's dick just in time to catch a shot of his man-juice on the chin. Two more spurts followed, splashing onto Buddy's chest. Tub continued gnawing at Muscle's ass until Muscle moved away.
"Don't worry, fellas; fun ain't over yet," Muscle said. To Tub, he said, "Why don't you finish doin' what you were doin' to Buddy here earlier, before I showed up and you decided to take yer swim."
Tub blushed, then he lay down, his body across Muscle's, and buried his face in Buddy's crotch. Buddy immediately began gasping for breath as Tub slurped his cock and tongued his cum-heavy balls.
Chuckling to himself, Muscle pulled at Tub's G-string. "Let's see what you been hidin' in here," he said. Tub's fat pink seven-incher sprang free as Muscle slid the G-string down his legs. "Good to see you kept that extra weight in the right places," Muscle said before enveloping Tub's cock in his warm mouth. Tub, whose mouth was stuffed with Buddy's prick, let out a few muffled groans.
Muscle's mouth began to devour Tub's cock, balls and ass. He began to work his fingers into him, one at a time. Tub spread his legs wider, wanting more. Muscle had more to give. After giving Tub's ass a couple more jabs with his tongue, Muscle pulled away. "I know what you want, friend," Muscle said, swatting Tub on the ass.
Tub jerked his head away from Buddy's quivering cock and looked at Muscle, who was digging through his backpack for something. Muscle's cock was already hard again, seeming even larger than before. He removed a rubber from his backpack and tore open the package. it was a novelty brand; the condom was a bright orange color. It made Muscle's cock look like a long, cylindrical balloon. And he laughed at my underwear, Tub thought.
Wordlessly, the men rearranged themselves: Tub and Buddy got into the sixty-nine position, with Tub on top. While the two friends stuffed each other's dicks in their mouths, Muscle crouched behind Tub, ready to invade his most private orifice.
When Muscle first poked through his tight ass-ring, Tub was sure he was going to be ripped in half. He felt like a virgin. Then, as Muscle slid the rest of his massive organ inside him, the pain Tub felt at first gave way to pleasure and his whole body relaxed.
As Muscle fucked Tub, Buddy swirled his tongue around Tub's cock. Sometimes, Muscle would slam into Tub's ass so hard it would cause Tub to thrust his pelvis forward; Buddy, in turn, would almost gag as Tub's dick hit the back of his throat. After that, Buddy let Tub's cock slide out of his mouth and decided to just lick it instead, like it was a big, fleshy lollipop.
Buddy was the first to cum. Sensing his friend was about to spew his load, Tub took his lips away from his cock and grasped the shaft in his hand. He began to stroke it very fast, anticipating the blast of thick cream. Thrusting his hips upward, Buddy shot a rope of heavy juice that splattered on the bed of the truck. He released a couple more shots, until finally one last drop of jism erupted from his cock and flowed like lava down Tub's fingers.
Buddy let out a heavy sigh, but continued to tongue his friend's pulsing rod. It started to shake, and soon, for the second time that day, Buddy's chest was bathed in a shower of milky white cum as Tub let out a squeal.
Muscle wasn't far behind. He grabbed onto Tub's ass-cheeks and hammered into him with an animal-like ferocity. Through clenched teeth, he let out a growl as his thick wad filled the orange rubber.
The men collapsed in a heap in the back of the truck. Muscle gave Tub a probing kiss, then did the same to Buddy. Then he moved away, shucking the rubber off his softening dick and rolling toward the backpack. "'Fraid it's time for us to part company," he said.
He pulled a small revolver from the backpack and pointed it at Tub and Buddy.
"Oh, Jesus, he's gonna kill us!" Tub screamed. "It's that punishment from God Daddy told me about!"
Muscle laughed. "Hell, boy, I ain't gonna shoot you, not if y'all do as I say. Now git outta the truck."
Tub and Buddy obeyed. Once they were standing on the ground, Muscle, still pointing the gun at them, grabbed his backpack and hopped out of the truck bed as well. "Where are the keys?" he asked.
"In the ignition," Buddy said.
"Well, that's right convenient," Muscle said, opening the door to the pickup cab and tossing his backpack inside. "Now, before I go, I just want you boys to know I had a real nice time. Very nice. Never had anything so good when I was in prison."
"You were in prison?" Tub wailed. "Bye now."
At that, Muscle jumped behind the wheel, slammed the door shut and started the engine. In an instant he was speeding away from them, up the dirt road and out of sight.
Tub and Buddy stood silently for a moment. Then Tub suddenly turned to Buddy, and, his eyes wide with horror, exclaimed, "My clothes! They're still in the back of the truck!"
Buddy didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Somehow," he said, "I don't think being nekkid is our biggest worry."
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