FRICTION FICTION: Black Ice

[monshanjik]

BLACK ICE

By Dale Chase

(Freshmen.Dec.1999.)

Randy considered it some kind of triumph if he called and got me out to
his place for a midnight fuck. He always had, ever since we started
fucking a year ago, just after we graduated high school. I think it made
his dick harder — churned his juice a little more — if he could picture
me roused from sleep. And it didn't matter if we'd spent the weekend on
his boat cruising the Delta, making our own waves; he'd still call me
late on a Tuesday or Wednesday and tell me what he wanted to do. How did
I respond? Bitch and moan, carry on, swear I wasn't doing it again — all
of this after I'd hung up, of course — after I'd rubbed my slumbering
dick and thought of how good Randy felt up inside me.

So it was the same as always, knowing who it was before I picked up the
phone at 11:30. "Why don't you come out to the boat," he said in that
deep sexy voice he knew I couldn't resist. I didn't argue, I was trying
to wake up, rubbing my eyes and my prick. "I've got a major hard on," he
added, "and it needs attention."

"Half an hour," I mumbled.

He was 20 miles away, and the quickest route was not the freeway but an
obscure two lane road that crossed a trestle bridge over the narrows,
then looped out toward the Delta. I pulled on jeans, T-shirt, jacket,
and boots, then hit the road, opening the Miata wide and putting the
heater on high because it was one of those winter nights that would
freeze your balls given the chance.

I crossed the narrows alone — not another car in sight — and as I came
off the bridge and took the first curve, my wheels let go of the road,
traction completely gone. For a second it felt like I was airborne, that
the Miata had taken off on a low slung flight to nowhere, but then the
car caught the shoulder and went into a grinding 360 degree spin,
chewing earth until it ended up nose down in a ditch 20 feet off the
road. Belted securely, I sustained no injury but the Miata was deathly
silent.

It took awhile for me to recover. I sat in the dark, heart pounding, and
wondered what in hell had happened. I’d raced along this road countless
times while honed in on Randy's cock and never lost it. Now, as I
hurried toward more of the best fucking I’d ever known, I seemed to have
derailed for no good reason. And worse, the Miata wouldn't start. And
still worse, the heater didn't work. Nothing worked.

Once I’d regained my equilibrium and thanked the appropriate higher
power for sparing me, I got out of the car only to be stung by frigid
air. It wouldn't have been so bad if I were in Montana or Idaho or even
up in the Sierra, but I was 40 miles from San Francisco, for Christ’s
sake, in goddamn California!

I crawled up out of the ditch and worked my way to the road, stepping
carefully because the moon was no more than a slice and didn't give me
much help. There were no lights anywhere, not on the bridge, not on this
deserted road, and definitely not on the dead Miata, but I still found
the spot where I’d spun out: a large frozen circle that I located only
by running my hand over the pavement. I’d heard of black ice; now I had
first hand acquaintance: invisible frozen patches that ambush drivers
unawares, that lie in wait for the merry motorist or in this case the
horny motorist. I stood in the road and wondered, what now?

It hadn't occurred to me to bundle up. I never did when headed toward
Randy because the car had a good heater and, once on the boat,
temperatures soared. So, should I wait by the side of the road? By the
car? In the car? And for whom? Not another car for miles but wait . . .
can those be headlights?

Twin beams appeared on the bridge, and I ran along the shoulder flailing
my arms to signal distress. I watched the car materialize into a late
model BMW, slow down, then speed up, traverse the black ice as if it
weren't there, and quietly move on.

"Asshole!" I screamed at the tail lights. I kept on screaming as the red
dots faded. "Asshole! Asshole! Fucking asshole!" I stood in the middle
of the road in the middle of nowhere and wondered how long it took to
freeze to death and if it would be best to expire while walking the 20
miles to civilization or to be found curled up in the car — a human ice
cube. I thought of Randy, who was by now royally pissed. I pictured him
lying naked in his narrow bunk, cock high and swaying in time with the
gentle rocking of the boat. He always liked it when I climbed down the
ladder and just kept on climbing, and I thought of how good it felt when
that mighty dick slid up my ass. I clenched that muscle in fond
remembrance and decided maybe I could stay warm after all.

Inside the car I began to create the scenario I was certain would save
my life. I opened my fly and took my very cold cock in hand. Then I set
about thinking of Randy. Really thinking of Randy.

I saw myself on a warm Indian summer night climbing down the ladder to
find him naked on his bunk. For a second I just stood there taking in
the sight: thick thighs and torso, massive shoulders, chiseled pecs,
dark nipples, and at the center of it all, growing up out of a black
thicket, that magnificent ten inch cock.

As he saw me, he wrapped a hand around it and began to stroke, finishing
me off with that smile of his, the kind of welcome that says, "You'd
better hurry." I shed my clothes and clambered up onto the bunk.

The first round was always the same — "taking the edge off," Randy
called it. No prelims — he'd taken care of that — just me slipping a
condom down that long, thick shaft and greasing myself. He liked to
watch that part, so I turned around and stuck my ass out at him while I
did a quick but thorough lube. By the time I turned back, he was
breathing heavily, hands now behind his head.

I climbed onto him, positioned my pucker over his pole, and eased down
until his knob touched my rim. This got a moan out of both of us and
then I did it, pounced on his dick in one very slick squat. It was like
a nightstick or a bedpost going up my rectum. My channel instantly
stretched to the max. It felt like his cock head was up under my ribs.
And then we began the fuck.

Playing all this on the Miata's windshield like some porn movie, I
found, along with my stiffening dick, that the car windows were rapidly
fogging. I stroked myself slowly, juice running out my slot, and savored
the growing warmth. I stopped my hand job long enough to pull my jeans
down around my knees because I wanted myself bare, wanted something
against my ass besides stone washed denim. Hand back on my prick, I
worked with new enthusiasm, clenching my asshole in time to my strokes.

The windows were now totally steamed, and I reached my free hand over to
the power strip, then realized I had no power or rather the car had no
power. Suddenly the interior was too hot, so I cracked the door open a
few inches, the sting of raw winter air now welcome against my burning
skin.

It gave me the perfect balance and cooled me enough to prolong my
climax. I didn't want to come too fast — I had possibly an entire night
to get through — and so I maintained that delicious edge, balls
simmering, load pooling. I kept stroking myself, playing with my crown,
poking at my slit, then going down with my free hand to palm my balls.
It was when I had both hands fully engaged that a single beam of light
slipped in over my shoulder and lit me up like a spot, and a voice off
to my left said, "Don't let me interrupt."

The amazing part is that I didn't let go of my cock. Dicking off at the
side of the road is not exactly appropriate behavior so you'd have
thought I would experience a bit of panic, but I’d passed the point of
no return so I just kept pulling at my meat. "Beautiful," the voice
said, a nice, warm baritone not unlike Randy's.

I turned my head to see a face in the shadows: square jaw, wide smile,
baseball cap. He pulled the door open wide, leaned in, and took my prick
into his mouth.

He sucked like a starving animal, expert tongue on my shaft, and I said,
partly from surprise, "Oh, shit," because my cream was suddenly rising.
"I’m gonna blow," I told my newfound friend, and he pulled back but kept
his hand on me, working frantically as long streams of come squirted up
onto my T-shirt. The guy moaned as if he were coming with me, and I
realized only as I quieted that he had his cock out and was pumping
along with me. Seconds later he turned away, so I didn't get to see him
erupt and was sad to miss it, but I was grateful he spared my upholstery
what I guessed from the size of that prick would be a massive load.

Afterward we had a long moment of recovery before he said, "Delta Tow,
at your service."

I started laughing because it was absurd beyond belief, all of it, me
off the road and left to die, then him coming to my rescue, literally.

"Take it easy," he said, squeezing my arm.

"l can't believe this," I managed.

"Neither can I. Some guy called it in from a cell phone — said a car was
in the ditch, but I didn't expect to find this in the ditch."

"l was trying to keep from freezing."

"A true survivalist. Why don't you get into the truck while I get your
car out of here?" When I stood he turned his flashlight up between us
and said, "I’m Craig, and I’m really glad to meet you."

"Alex, and you have no idea how glad I am to meet you. That BMW that
passed must have made the call."

"Must have. So go on, get in the truck, and get warm."

His cock was still hanging out his open fly, and I was impressed. With
its big flared head, it reminded me of a snake lying in wait, and my
asshole clenched in anticipation. Craig watched me take in the sight,
then said, "Guess I better close up before I get frostbite." I walked to
the truck in a daze.

It was so warm in the cab that I could have undressed completely, and I
thought about doing just that, stripping naked so Craig could climb up
into the seat and poke that sausage of his into an ass that was now
truly in need. Forgive me, Randy.

When Craig did climb back into the cab to reposition the truck, he told
me to make myself comfortable and reached over to squeeze my thigh. I
nodded and watched him go back out to hook up the car. He reminded me of
a draft horse, strong enough to lift the Miata himself, and when he
hooked an assortment of mechanical devices to my poor little car I
imagined thick leg muscles straining in his jeans. My cock was swelling
again, anticipating the fuck, and when the car began to rise from the
ditch and, further; to stick its ass up into the air, I could only think
of it presenting itself and more — that Craig was man enough to do both
me and the Miata. I then spent an interesting few minutes picturing man
fucking car, getting myself so aroused that I had to get rid of my
pants.

Once the Miata was secured, Craig climbed into the cab and took off his
hat, and I got a good look at a stunning face with thick black hair,
broad forehead, and dark eyes fixed on me. He saw me pantless, and
without a word he shed his jacket, pulled his jeans down, and settled at
the middle of the long bench seat. His giant prick was pointed up like a
beacon.

"Open the glove compartment," he said, and l found not the usual maps
and pens but an assortment of condoms and lube plus a large black dildo.
I grabbed two packets and handed them over, thinking of all the stops a
tow truck driver might make and what this particular service really
meant.

"Turn around," Craig said once he had his cock ready. I pushed my eager
little ass at him and heard the lube packet open and then his finger was
in me, greasing the way, then two fingers. When he had me thoroughly
wet, he said, "Get on," and I practically jumped aboard, my back to him,
asshole pointed over that magic rod. I hesitated as I always did with
Randy, but Craig didn't allow my little rim dance. He grabbed me at the
waist and jammed me down onto his cock while he thrust upward at the
same moment, the result like having that bedpost I’d envisioned shoved
up my rectum. I grabbed my cock and held on.

For the first few minutes I stroked my dick as I took him deep, but
finally I let go and clutched the dashboard, my thighs getting a workout
because I kept trying to fuck him back, because I savored that singular
bounce, cock up my ass, tickling my gut and ready to explode.

Craig kept saying, "Go for it! Oh, shit, go for it," and after awhile he
stopped pushing and let me do it all. And boy did I do it all. His hands
were spread out on the seat, digging at the vinyl, and then he started
over announcing himself loudly, which spurred me to even greater
heights.

"Oh, man, I’m almost there, I’m gonna fill your ass, drown you in come,
oh shit, here. . ." Then silence, and I pumped that shaft for all I was
worth, taking his fuck and feeling his body shake almost violently as he
came. The tow truck was rocking, groaning on its shocks, and then my own
prick went off, and I squirted a no-hands stream up onto the dashboard,
squealing with delight as I let go. I couldn't believe how much juice
I’d had left.

"Jesus," Craig said when we'd quieted. His dick was still half hard
inside me, still viable, as if he had yet another load. I clenched my
muscle tight, and he groaned, then bit into my neck. "l hope you don't
have to get anywhere soon," he said.

"l think I’m there," I replied, nuzzling back into him and squirming on
that delicious pole. "I could keep your cock up me all night."

"You're on," he said, "but we do have to get your car somewhere."

"Back to Concord. Al's Garage on Buchanan near the airport."

Neither of us made any move to separate. We may have been able to
discuss practical matters, but there was a kind of murmur going on
between his half-spent prick and my fully loaded ass. He was pushing up
into me with just the slightest pressure, and I was hinting at a squeeze
on that dick. "We should get the car to the garage," he said finally,
lifting me off him gently, as if he didn't want me to break. "Get it out
of the way," he added, "so we can get down to business."

I agreed with his logic and watched him strip off the condom and clean
up with a rag he pulled from under the seat. When I started for my
jeans, he said, "Leave them off. As high as this truck sits, no one can
see anything, and if they do, they're gonna get the sight of their
life." I agreed to this logic as well, and we set off, towing the poor
Miata back to town.

Craig kept his prick free, and after awhile it relaxed, still
impressive, however. "Where were you headed?" he asked, left hand on the
wheel, right prodding my crotch. I was up against him, legs spread,
enjoying his play. "I had a date out in the Delta."

"Do you need to call?"

"I guess I should since I’m not going to show." He handed me the cell
phone, and as I punched in Randy's number; he pulled the truck to the
side of the road. I had no idea what he was up to but didn't care. This
guy could do anything he wanted; when Randy answered I found out what
anything was.

"Where in hell are you?" Randy demanded just as Craig pushed me over to
the far side of the seat, leaned down, and pulled my cock into his
mouth. For a second I had no voice. Phone at my ear, I looked down at
that head bobbing in my lap, sucking like he could pull come up out of
my balls. "The car went into a ditch," I finally managed. "l hit black
ice coming off the bridge and slid off the road. I’m getting towed back
to Concord, so I won't make it tonight. Sorry."

"Fuck!"

Craig was working frantically, and my cock was in full response,
erection fueled not only by an expert tongue but by the idea of Randy on
the phone while another guy ate my meat. I decided to keep Randy on the
line while I came. "I’ll come out tomorrow night," I offered, starting
to push up into Craig's mouth because early warning signs were going
off, and there was no way I could hold still.

"But I need a fuck tonight," Randy said. "Right now."

"Best I can do is talk you through it. C'mon, you've got your hand on
your prick, don't you? Pretend it's mine, that I’m there working your
big cock . . ." I trailed off, Randy starting to groan a little, my load
quickly rising. "Pump it, baby," I said to them both. "Work that cock
'cause there's a bucket of cream inside those balls, and they're about
to explode, major eruption, severe damage, and oh, shit, I can feel it .
. . "

Randy was breathing hard now and talking along with me, and I knew his
prick was on the verge just as Craig knew mine was. He pulled back and
grinned, then watched me shoot come all over myself as I squealed into
the phone. Randy apparently came at the same time because I heard one
final "fuck it," then silence. I pictured his juice squirting up onto
that massive chest, saturating his thick fur, our long distance orgy now
complete.

There was absolute silence both in the cab and on the phone for nearly a
minute, then Randy said, "Thanks, babe. I’ll call you tomorrow," and
hung up.

Craig drew his fingers through the come on my belly and laughed. "Is
everybody happy?" he asked as he started the truck.

I leaned into him and said, "With special thanks to Mother-fucking
Nature."

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Thanks to original poster in Yahoo! gaymagazinefiction group!
Enjoy!

 

[ToniD17]

love this