Parking Lot Hero

Parking Lot Hero By J.M. Snyder Vic Braunson stood, naked and still damp from his shower, in the hallway of the apartment he shared with his lover. The French doors that hid the laundry facilities were rolled back and he was bent over the open door of the dryer, digging through clean clothes in hope of finding a pair of boxers. He wasn’t having much luck. “Didn’t you wash anything of mine?” he called out. In the kitchen, he heard the clatter of dishes in the sink, then the water turned on and Matt diLorenzo’s voice spoke up in his mind. ::I can’t hear you over the water.:: Through their mental connection, Vic shot back, ::You just turned it on.:: He felt his lover grin inside his head. ::You turn me on. What are you looking for?:: ::Some underwear.:: The telepathic bond they shared stemmed from Matt—something in him brought out the best in Vic. More specifically, something in his semen triggered superhuman powers in Vic whenever they made love. The abilities came and went, wearing off eventually or replaced by others the next time they f****d, but the telepathy between them was constant. Vic heard the water cut off and knew Matt was coming to help him look. Two seconds later, a randy wolf whistle pierced the hall. Vic turned to glance over his shoulder at his lover, who leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, a towel drying his hands as he stared appreciatively at Vic’s broad backside. “Underwear for what?” Matt wanted to know. “You can’t hide something that sexy. It’d be a shame.” “If you want me to go to the store with you,” Vic started. The towel snapped in Matt’s hands and cracked against Vic’s buttocks like a whip. “How about we cancel the store,” Matt suggested, pushing away from the jamb to tickle gentle fingers over one ample ass cheek. “You stay here au naturale, I’ll strip down, and we’ll both just curl back up in bed. What do you say?” As tempting as it sounded, they did need to go grocery shopping. It was the Saturday before the Super Bowl, and somehow Matt had talked Vic into hosting a party for a few of their friends. What started out as three couples had grown into an elaborate shindig—the two women Matt worked with at the gym’s pool would be there, the receptionist Roxie and her date of the month, and a young man named Doug who’d taken to hanging around Vic in the weight room. Then word got out at the gym that the place to be on Super Bowl Sunday was their apartment, and Vic didn’t know how many more people planned to show up. As the evening of the dreaded ballgame approached, Vic was beginning to think he’d duck out once the guests arrived and maybe hide away upstairs with the landlady and her plethora of cats just for some peace and quiet. He wasn’t a sociable person by any stretch of the imagination. But Matt was. And whatever Matt wanted, Vic made sure he got it, simple as that. So they were having an apartment full of guests Sunday evening, and this morning they planned to swing by the grocery store to buy drinks and snacks. If Vic could just find a pair of boxers to wear. And if he couldn’t, maybe he could beg off going… His lover’s hands rubbed over his buttocks, pinching, kneading, their warmth turning him on. His c**k jerked, knocking against the door of the dryer with a hollow ping that made Matt laugh. “What are we looking for again?” Vic couldn’t remember. All he knew were the hands lifting his cheeks, spreading them wide, massaging them. He stood up on his tiptoes, arched his back, and leaned heavily on the top of the dryer to steady himself. Still, the first soft lick of Matt’s tongue over hidden flesh almost dropped him to his knees. “God,” he gasped as Matt traced the cleft between his buttocks. “Yes.” Matt started with tiny bites on sensitive skin that trembled in his wake. Then his tongue swirled around Vic’s tight hole, over and over again. Dropping lower, he licked his way between Vic’s legs to kiss the back of his balls and tasted the length of his shaft before returning to the puckered flesh at Vic’s center. Vic’s breath hissed in delight. ::Yes, God, Matty, yes!:: One slick finger eased into him. Vic bucked back against it, taking it in. Behind him, he heard the tell-tale zrrp of a zipper sliding open, then heard the rustle of fabric as Matt’s jeans fell to the floor at his feet. Spreading his legs apart, Vic muttered, “Are you going to f**k me, or what?” “Well,” Matt drawled, “when you ask like that…” The finger in his anus slipped free. For one devastating moment, those hands holding him disappeared. A disgruntled growl tickled the back of Vic’s throat—he’d beg if he had to, anything for a piece of his man. “Matty—” A wet palm slapped his ass. “Hush up,” Matt admonished. Vic glanced over his shoulder to see his lover squirt a healthy dollop of lotion into his hands. “You know I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that.” Cool, damp fingers again fondled the crack between his buttocks. Vic arched into the hand as the faint, clean scent of cucumber melon filled his senses. “Couldn’t you find anything unscented?” he muttered. “This was by the sink,” Matt told him. “You really didn’t give me much time to look—” With a roar, Vic cried out, “Just f**k me already, will you?” Strong hands gripped Vic’s hips, and the knotty tip of Matt’s c**k butted against his ass. With one hard shove, his lover slid into him with a burning that ignited Vic’s blood and stiffened his c**k. Pushing away from the dryer, he backed up against Matt and set the pace hot and heavy, the way he liked it. Each time Matt thrust into him, Vic felt as if his lover’s thick c**k struck sparks off his tender prostate. He was on fire, his body begging for more. Words were lost between them; Vic grunted his approval every time Matt drove into him, deeper, harder, faster. In. When he came, Vic’s orgasm ripped through him like a firestorm. He felt Matt’s d**k burst within him, which triggered his own release. ::Yes,:: he thought as Matt clung to him, unwilling to let go just yet. ::Yes,:: as his lover leaned down over Vic’s back, hugging him close. ::Yes, God, yes. Matty, you’re amazing.:: Matt kissed his shoulder, and Vic turned to catch the next kiss on his lips. “Now let’s find you those boxers,” his lover whispered against Vic’s mouth. “I don’t know,” Vic admitted. “I’m not in such a hurry anymore.”