In His Kiss Box Set

Car Trouble-4

After an hour of watching Jimmy’s strong, jean-clad legs and tight ass through the window as he sips the horrid coffee, Terrence can’t take it anymore. He tosses the cup aside and pushes through the door out into the garage.

Even though it’s only mid-morning, it’s sweltering in the enclosed garage. The minute Terrence is through the door, the heat hits him like a wet sponge, sticky and warm. The air is so close, it squeezes the sweat from his pores; he feels it bead like dew on his forehead and scalp. How that skinny white boy can stand it, he has no clue.

As Terrence approaches his car, Jimmy doesn’t hear him. His back is to Terrence and he’s leaning under the hood, his jeans hugging a slim, tight ass. His makeshift ponytail hangs over one shoulder, allowing Terrence to see the thin sheath of sweat glistening across Jimmy’s bare shoulders. He wants to run a hand across those shoulders, wipe away the sweat clinging like condensation to that smooth skin. Or press his face between the narrow shoulder blades and lick the sweat away.

The ear buds must be back in place, because as Terrence comes closer, he hears Jimmy singing softly. His voice is husky and slightly off-key, but the low murmur surprises Terrence, and he finds himself drawn to it. He wants to hear that soft song first thing in the morning, beside him in the bed. He wants to wake to hear it echo off the tiles in his bathroom, raised over the sound of the shower, or fall asleep to it, low and intimate between them in the darkness.

It’s been way too long since he’s been with another.

Jimmy hears Terrence step up behind him and the song stops on his lips. Without extracting himself from under the hood, he glances at Terrence and grins. “I think I’ve found your problem.”

“What’s that?” Terrence leans beside him against the side of the car. They’re only inches apart now, the space between them electric, and he stares at the bunched muscle on Jimmy’s arm, the lithe strength coiled there. He wants this guy, now, and he doesn’t care if Jimmy knows it.

With a shrug, Jimmy says, “I don’t want to bore you with the details, remember?”

Terrence laughs. “I told you, I doubt you could bore me.”

A smile crosses his face as he turns back to the engine beneath the hood of the car. Terrence watches him struggle with a stubborn bolt, the wrench in his hand slipping without purchase. When Jimmy leans in for a little more leverage, Terrence reaches out as if to catch him and threads a finger through the belt loop on the back of Jimmy’s jeans. The movement brings him closer; he smells the manly scent of sweat coming off the mechanic. Gasoline and oil and animalistic musk conspire to drive his libido crazy. Another step closer and the front of his slacks will touch Jimmy’s hip, and the hardness shoved down his briefs would leave no doubt about his intentions.

Jimmy’s elbow flares out as he wrestles with the bolt, bumping into Terrence’s chest. “Sorry,” he says, throwing a quick look over his shoulder.

When he sees how close they’ve become, Jimmy takes a step sideways. He stops fiddling around under the hood and stands—Terrence’s arm is draped around his hip, his fingers still entwined in Jimmy’s belt loop. One hand strays to pluck the ear buds from his ears, and when he drops them, they dangle from the MP3 player hidden in his pocket. His voice is barely there when he sighs, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Terrence keeps his voice soft, his tone low, and the word rumbles between them like thunder. Releasing the belt loop, he lets his hand drift to Jimmy’s hip, and before he can stop himself, his fingers brush over the damp skin at Jimmy’s waist. The touch is feathery, light. In the darkened garage, his black fingers look like shadows on Jimmy’s pale skin. Beneath his fingertips, he can feel Jimmy’s nerves dance.

The sound of Jimmy clearing his throat is loud in the quiet garage, and it echoes off the corrugated metal walls. Terrence manages to raise his gaze from that smooth skin, like velvet beneath his fingers, to see the twinkle in Jimmy’s warm eyes. It encourages him, and his hand moves around to Jimmy’s stomach, which flutters at his touch.

Coyly, the mechanic asks, “You do this often…pick up guys in service stations?”

“No.” Terrence leans heavily against the side of the car and scoots a little closer. His head is ducked down, about level with Jimmy’s shoulder, and he stares at the pinked n****e pointing at him, begging to be licked. He wants to take that tender bud between his teeth, bite at it, tease it until it swells in his mouth. He wants Jimmy writhing beneath him, aching for him. “What about you? You often accept invitations from guys you meet at work?”

“Is that what this is? An invitation?” Jimmy’s voice drops, seductive. “For what?”

Terrence grins. As if he doesn’t know.

When he doesn’t reply, Jimmy turns back to the car’s engine. Terrence watches his own hand skim across the pale expanse of skin, over Jimmy’s waist, to his back again. Jimmy ignores the touch, leaning beneath the hood of the car to tackle the bolt again.

“You’re all talk, Mr. Jackson. Get a guy’s hopes up with your game and then call a time-out before things even started.” He sounds disappointed. “You should really be in the waiting area, you know. The garage is off-limits to customers.”

Terrence still doesn’t answer. He leans against the car beside Jimmy, fascinated by the way his skin looks against the mechanic’s. On its own accord, his hand trails up Jimmy’s back, cutting a path through the sweat, over his shoulder blade and around his shoulder and down the curve of muscle above the crook in Jimmy’s arm. The mechanic doesn’t respond to the touch, or Terrence’s thumb swirling around the dry skin of his elbow, or the way his fingers tickle through the hair on his forearm.

Still, nothing.

Finally Terrence’s hand drops to the waistband of Jimmy’s jeans, then dips lower. Down over the denim-clad hip, down his thigh. He watches the mechanic’s stoic profile as he eases a hand around Jimmy, just below the swell of his buttocks, his fingers smoothing across the denim covering Jimmy’s inner thigh. The mechanic catches his breath but doesn’t say a word. Encouraged, Terrence lets his hand drift up a little, until the curve of Jimmy’s ass sits in his palm. His fingers splay between Jimmy’s legs along the seam of his jeans.

Suddenly the bolt loosens in Jimmy’s grip and the wrench falls from his hands, clattering through the engine to fall to the floor of the garage.

Terrence grins. Now that’s the response he wanted. Ever so slightly, he squeezes Jimmy’s ass.

The mechanic gasps and arches his back, pressing into Terrence’s hand.

“Do you want a piece of me?” Terrence murmurs.

“Yes,” Jimmy gasps. He grips the sides of the car with both hands and moans as Terrence rubs between his legs, the denim as soft as suede down there. “God, yes, please.”

Stepping around behind him, Terrence runs his hands up over Jimmy’s buttocks and around to the front of his jeans, where he fists the erection straining at his crotch. So he’s been hiding this from me, Terrence thinks, rubbing it against my car and hoping it’ll go away before I see it and want to take care of it. Through those jeans, Terrence cradles the hard c**k in both hands and kneads gently, pulling Jimmy back against him. His shirt sticks to Jimmy’s skin, growing damp beneath the mechanic’s sweat, and his own erection rubs at the cleft of Jimmy’s buttocks, hard and eager. For him.

“I want you, Jimmy,” he sighs.

Jimmy’s head leans back to rest on Terrence’s shoulder, his body limp and weightless in Terrence’s arms. His hands cover the strong fists at the front of his jeans. “Please,” he says again.

With open lips, Terrence kisses Jimmy’s sweaty shoulders, licking and sucking each time his mouth touches the mechanic’s skin, wanting more. He tastes of summer and salt and a tangy cologne Terrence smells only when he presses his nose into Jimmy’s pale flesh. Behind his ear, Terrence licks the hot metal of the back of an earring and his hands slide up the sheen of Jimmy’s stomach, searching for his n*****s. He rubs the nubs between his fingers until they harden like stones beneath his touch. “I want to take you home and wrap you up and never let you go. Will you let me do that, Jimmy? Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes,” he sighs. He moves against Terrence, the heat of his body igniting the fires in their bodies. “Yes, please, yes. God, yes.”

He turns to catch Terrence’s mouth with his. His mouth tastes sweet, like peppermints and lollipops and cotton candy. His lips are incredibly soft, rose petals and velvet—the crush is infuriating. Terrence wants more. He needs more, right here, right now. His whole body throbs for this guy in his arms, and he doesn’t care if they’re seen. His nerves trill for release, his blood pounds in his ears, his world threatens to drown in the rush of lust which has overcome him. Vaguely, he recalls his phone conversation earlier with Gary…what did he say? Only one mechanic on duty?

Must be my lucky day.

Terrence fumbles with the button of Jimmy’s jeans. The zipper glides down from the pressure of his erection alone. With hasty hands Terrence shucks off the jeans, pushing them down to Jimmy’s knees in a fluid movement. His boxers follow. Jimmy turns, presenting himself to Terrence, who falls to his knees as if to worship the thick c**k jutting out at him. A thin trail of sandy hair starting at Jimmy’s navel tapers down until it splashes into dun-colored curls kinked around his d**k and balls. The pale skin of his narrow hips gathers into a ruddy shaft, tipped with a plum-shaped cockhead the same shade as his lips.

Almost reverently, Terrence wraps his fingers around that thick length. With a moan, Jimmy thrusts into Terrence’s hand. He tugs Jimmy’s c**k toward him in one long, gentle stroke, and when his fingers bump against the flared tip, he purses his lips and kisses the blind eye before him.

A musky scent wafts up at him from Jimmy’s crotch, a warm smell, primal, which brings Terrence to the brink of desire. As his mouth opens and he takes the tip of Jimmy’s d**k in, his tongue licking down around the slit beneath his cockhead, Terrence’s other hand fumbles at his own crotch, hurriedly unzipping the silk slacks to free the beast roaring at his groin.

Greasy hands fist in Terrence’s short-cropped hair. “Oh God,” Jimmy moans as his c**k disappears inch by inch into Terrence’s hungry mouth. “Oh yes, oh please.”

Suddenly Terrence is wearing too many clothes. As he stands, he leaves his slacks puddled around his ankles. His large c**k is twice as thick as Jimmy’s, and the sight of it makes the mechanic’s eyes widen. “I want that,” he says, his hands drifting to stroke Terrence’s length. “In me. Now.”

With a grin, Terrence starts, “Once you go black…”

But Jimmy turns to present his firm buttocks to Terrence. “Jesus, man. Just f**k me, please?”

Terrence likes the way he asks so sweetly. With his hands on Jimmy’s hips, he positions the guy in front of him. Jimmy grips the side of the car with whitening knuckles as Terrence leans down over him, kissing his back. Those kisses find their way down his spine, over the hump of his buttocks; Terrence squats behind Jimmy, mouth pressed to white skin trembling beneath it. Then his lips are on the skin Jimmy’s kept hidden, kissing between the smooth buttocks, his tongue licking secret flesh which aches for his touch.

He finds a sensitive spot just behind Jimmy’s balls and this time when the mechanic tries to speak, words fail him. All that comes out is a string of syllables which might be Terrence’s name and might be something akin to pure pleasure. His legs slide further apart, his knees buckle slightly, and his hand strays to his d**k, damp with Terrence’s spit. Working one finger into Jimmy’s clenched hole, Terrence spreads him gently, his other hand stroking his own swollen c**k.

Jimmy leans down under the hood of the car, standing on tiptoes to present as much of himself as he can to Terrence. There’s an old condom in Terrence’s wallet, the color beginning to fleck off the foil packet, but it’s heavily lubricated and doesn’t tear as Terrence slips it on. “Please,” Jimmy’s saying, over and over again as he humps against the side of Terrence’s Mercedes. “f**k me, please, please.”

Standing, Terrence guides himself into Jimmy. The mechanic makes a low, guttural sound which enflames Terrence’s senses and boils his blood. It’s animalistic and raw and lusty, and purely s****l. As his hands trail around Jimmy’s waist, finding his thick c**k, the mechanic grabs onto the side of the car and moves with a dancer’s rhythm. He’s tight and warm and unbelievably real, and each thrust sends an ocean of desire washing through Terrence. His teeth sink into Jimmy’s shoulder, eliciting another moan.

Their coupling is quick and hot and sweaty. Jimmy locks his arms against the car, his legs firmly planted, his body taking the brunt of Terrence’s thrusts. “Yes,” he gasps, “yes, harder, yes.” He leans back against Terrence, his hips moving with their heated rhythm. “Yes. Yes.”

There is nothing else for Terrence but the guy before him, the taut body against his, the long hair tickling his nose when he buries his face into it, the pale skin reddening beneath his ministrations. Terrence likes the way his skin looks against Jimmy’s, yin and yang, night and day, his black fingers gripping the white d**k tight, his dark c**k pumping between buttocks like the pale flesh of an unripe peach.

Suddenly Jimmy pushes back, away from the car, impaling himself completely onto Terrence’s shaft. In Terrence’s hand, the mechanic’s c**k spasms; Terrence strokes Jimmy, harder, faster, teasing his orgasm from him. Ropy strands of white c*m arc into the air to splatter the oily innards of the Mercedes’ engine.

The sight rouses Terrence to the brink of release. One final thrust and he comes, too, driving deep into the mechanic as he feels the hot rush of his semen stymied by the condom. Without pulling free, he hugs Jimmy close, holding him tightly.

“Yes,” Jimmy sighs, his voice weak now, shuddering and spent. He lets himself be folded into Terrence’s embrace, his face turning towards Terrence’s, hungry for another taste. As their lips meet in a tender kiss, Jimmy whispers, “God, yes.”