Tune Up Read online

  By Terry O’Reilly

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2010 Terry O’Reilly ISBN 978-1-61152-040-8 Cover Photo Credit: Christian Lohman Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License. Cover Design: J.M. Snyder

  All Rights Reserved

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * * By Terry O’Reilly Kenny Raymond wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror and stood looking at himself. He glanced down at his dick, still half hard from his morning shower jack off. He looked back up at his reflection and sighed.

  “You gotta get laid!” he told the image of the handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed young man looking back at him. “You and your left hand are gettin’ too well acquainted.”

  The man in the mirror nodded his agreement. “Fat chance of that,” he went on as he opened the door of the medicine cabinet and took out his shaving cream and razor. “Not out here in Nowheresville.”

  Kenny lived in a rural area of the state. He worked as a mechanic for old man Watson at his gas station, where a couple of two lanes intersected about a mile out of town. He had gone to trade school in the city. He hadn’t planned on coming back to the town where he grew up. He’d figured out he was gay in high school. He also found out being gay in small town, redneck America wasn’t too popular or exciting. So after getting his certificate as a fully trained auto mechanic, he decided to stay in the city and look for work where a gay guy was more likely to find acceptance and all the sex he could ask for.

  But fate had had other plans. Kenny’s father died. His mom informed him at the funeral she had no means of support since his dad hadn’t taken very good care of finances. As her only child, he was all she had. So, back into the closet he went and home to live with and support his invalid mother. Ben Watson had given him a job. At least he was working as he had been trained, sort of. He was qualified to work on the fancy new computerized engines. About the most he was ever called on to do out here in the sticks was change the oil on old ladies’ clunkers and adjust the carburetors on riding lawn mowers. But it was a job, and he was grateful.

  Kenny looked at the reflection in the mirror again as he wiped the remains of the shaving cream from his face.

  “Not too shabby,” he told the grinning face looking back at him. “You never had any trouble finding some ass back in town. Now Mom’s gone, why the hell are you still hanging around this place?”

  His mom had died the previous winter. He sold the house, banked the money, and had planned to move to the city once more. But he had stayed. Old man Watson asked him to remain until he could find a replacement at the gas station. Since Kenny felt some obligation to the old man for giving him a job when he needed it, he agreed. So Kenny moved to the small apartment at the rear of the station, but this was taking longer than he had imagined. He was restless…and horny.

  Kenny pulled his sleeveless tee over his head as he left the apartment, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. Duke, his bluetick hound, bounded toward him from the direction of the woods behind the station. Kenny bent and ruffed the long, silky, black ears as the dog came to a stop in front of him and sat down, wagging his tail furiously.

  “Where you been all night, mister?” Kenny asked, holding the hound’s head in his hands.

  Duke stood and wiggled with excitement.

  “Oh, I get it,” Kenny laughed. “You been over to Sutter’s place to visit Lulubelle.”

  Duke let out a crooning bark.

  “Don’t you go gettin’ yourself and me in trouble by knockin’ up that there fancy poodle of theirs. Can’t imagine what bluetick poodles would look like and Mrs. Sutter would have both our hides. She thinks that dog of hers is gonna be best in show someday.”

  Duke sat again, cocking his head to one side as if seriously taking in all Kenny was saying.

  “Well, at least one of us is gettin’ his rocks off,” Kenny laughed as Duke got up and crooned again.

  Man and dog walked around the corner of the gas station garage. Watson was already there, as usual, and had opened the two bay doors. Now he was out turning on the gas pumps and reading the gauges. He raised his head as Kenny came into view.

  Ben waved and called out, “Mornin’, son. Gonna be a hot one.”

  “Yes, sir, think you’re right,” Kenny replied. “Gonna get me and Duke a bita breakfast and I’ll be right out.”

  “No hurry. Ain’t but one oil change and grease job lined up for the day.”

  Kenny sighed and nodded as he ambled over to the convenience store part of the operation. Another borin’, do nothin’ day, he thought. He looked back over his shoulder at the older man. Bet he was kinda a hot guy when he was younger.

  Kenny felt a tightening in his groin, then said under his breath, “Man, you gotta get laid! He could be your granddaddy.”

  “Hey, Kenny, what’s up?” came a bright, happy voice as he entered the store.

  He could smell the fresh coffee brewing and felt his stomach growl. “Hey yourself, Sally,” he said to the matronly woman behind the counter working on getting things ready for the customers. “Can a couple of starvin’ guys get some breakfast?”

  “Sure thing. Donuts was just delivered, coffee’s brewing, and I just put the hot dogs on the spits.” She indicated the glass enclosed rotisserie where a half dozen franks slowly revolved in the glow of the infrared heat lamps.

  “Thanks, Sal,” Kenny said, going to the beverage case and grabbing an orange juice.

  He returned to the counter, opened the rotisserie, and gingerly pulled two hotdogs off with his fingers. He put them onto a plate, which he sat on the floor for Duke. They disappeared in less than two seconds. The hound sat and looked up at his master expectantly.

  “That’s it, bub. You ain’t supposed to have people food in the first place. You got your bowl back at the house.”

  Duke whined and headed for the screen door. With a disapproving look over his shoulder, he pushed it open with his nose and headed off in the direction of the apartment. “Pretty smart old boy,” Sally said.

  “Too smart,” Kenny replied, pouring himself a coffee and grabbing a couple of donuts. Putting his breakfast in a cup carrier, he started to leave. “You have a good day, Sally. Thanks for the breakfast.”

  “That ain’t a proper breakfast for a fine, strappin’, young man like yourself,” Sally returned. “You oughta have a wife to fix you a proper one, as well as take care of you in other ways. Know what I mean?” she added with a wink.

  “Well, I guess you gotta point. I sure could use someone to take care of me.” Kenny returned the smile. In his head he added, But it sure wouldn’t be no woman.

  Sally continued her campaign. “Say, there’s a social at the church this Sunday night. Good food and good folk. I’m sure Luanne Grimely will be th
ere. You ain’t seen her since high school, I bet. You’d be surprised at how she’s filled out.”

  “Thanks, Sally, but I think I’ll pass.” You bet she’s filled out. I seen her uptown about a month ago. Wooee! Oink oink!

  When Kenny got back to the garage, Ben Watson was talking with Ethel McGee, who had brought in her car for the oil change. They turned to him as he walked in.

  “Mornin’,” Kenny said to the pair.

  They returned his greeting.

  “Just let me get this breakfast down and I’ll get right to work on your car, Missus McGee,” Kenny said, setting his OJ and coffee down on the work bench and taking a bite out of one of the donuts.

  “There ain’t no hurry, Kenny,” Ethel replied. She turned to Ben. Slapping him on the shoulder, she said, “That how you take care of your help, Ben Watson? Why, that boy needs nourishment. Big man like that needs a proper meal.”

  “Well, now, Ethel,” Ben laughed, “seems to me, by the look of him, he ain’t wastin’ away none.”

  “Just the same, he oughta have a good, home-cooked breakfast.”

  Ethel walked over to where Kenny had seated himself on a stool by the workbench and was sipping his coffee. “Now my niece, Mary Sue Blakely over in Pinkerton, she can cook up a storm. Weren’t you friends with her brother, Stan?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I was,” Kenny replied, feeling his dick tingle thinking of the mutual jack off sessions he and Stan used to share in the hay mow of the Blakely’s barn.

  “Why don’t you get in touch with Stan? And while you’re at it, get reacquainted with Mary Sue. She ain’t married yet, you know.”

  Jeeezuz Christ, twice in one mornin’. “Thanks for the advice, ma’am; I surely will look into that.” When cows fly and hell freezes over.

  Kenny finished his donuts, juice, and coffee and went to work on Ethel’s old Ford Fairlane. She continued to hover around him, talking about the weather, goings on in town, and mentioning Mary Sue in every other sentence. Kenny just nodded and yes ma’am’ed politely as he worked.

  In about a half hour, the job was done, and Ethel was on her way. Kenny busied himself rearranging the tool bench which he did everyday to pass the time. When he got bored with that, he went to stand in the doorway of one of the bays and catch what little breeze there was.

  Kenny was considering sneaking off to the apartment for a quick wank as he idly watched the cars come up to the intersection and stop at the stop sign.

  He sighed. I can’t take this much longer. I’m horny as hell, and with everyone in town trying to marry me off…well, something better happen real quick.

  No sooner had the thought evaporated into the shimmering air rising from the hot pavement that a shiny, black and red Harley turned off the highway and onto the blacktop of the gas station. It had silver panniers and dual exhausts. It was being driven by the most handsome guy Kenny had seen in a long time, and it was headed straight for him.

  At first Kenny thought it was a daydream come from his thinking of a moment earlier. But when the bike came to a stop and the leather-clad Adonis swung his leg over the seat, killed the engine, and stood the bike on its stand, Kenny knew it was really happening. He did his best to hide the bulge he knew his instant hard-on created in his jeans. Thank God he had decided to wear briefs that morning.

  “What can I do for you?” Kenny asked, knowing exactly what he’d like to do.

  The biker—clad in leather fringed chaps that cupped his ample family jewels perfectly and a leather vest open to the waist that framed his full, hair-matted chest and rippling abs—took off his helmet. He had a black bandana tied on his head. His eyes were pools of dark liquid, and his handsome face was capped to perfection by a two-day growth of slightly salt and pepper stubble. In his ears were curved wire earrings with spearhead tips. When the man spoke, Kenny was sure he was gonna cum right then and there.

  “Had ‘er tuned up over in Laughton but she seems to be runnin’ a little rich. Think you can check ‘er out and adjust that for me?”

  Kenny just stared at the man. He had heard him, but it was like his voice had completely immobilized him. He was trying his best to respond when Duke came around the side of the building. Immediately the biker squatted down and began to ruffle the coon hound’s long ears and speak to him in a deep, resonant baritone. The act of squatting accentuated even more the abundant package he displayed before Kenny.

  He looked up at the mechanic. “What’s his name?”

  “Duh,” was all Kenny could manage.

  “Duh?” the leather clad vision asked.

  “Uh…no…” Kenny fought for rationality. “Duke.”

  “Nice to meet you, Duke,” the biker said, turning his attention to the dog before rising to face Kenny. “Makes me miss my little girl. She’s a Jack Russell. I call her Harley…after the bike.”

  Kenny was struggling to come to his senses. “Cool, yeah after the bike…yeah…cool.”

  “Well, do you think you can…?” the biker asked, raising his dark eyebrows and gesturing toward the motorcycle.

  “Ah…yeah…sure thing.” Kenny turned to the workbench to get a screwdriver and surreptitiously adjusted himself in his jeans.

  When Kenny came back with the tool, the biker smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I’m kind of embarrassed to ask…I know it’s a simple job, but tools and I just don’t seem to get along.”

  I got me a tool I’d surely like to teach you to get along with, Kenny thought, letting himself briefly fantasize just how he’d like to acquaint this man with the ‘tool’ fighting for freedom against the fabric of his jeans.

  “We all got our own special talents,” Kenny said, coming back to stand beside the man and bike. “I bet you got a lota things you’re real good at.” He stared intently into the deep, dark eyes. Then he looked away and blushed.

  The man laughed softly. It tickled Kenny to the core. “I gotta use the john,” the biker said.

  “Uh…yeah. It’s on the other side of the buildin’. Don’t need a key.”

  “Thanks,” the man replied before turning and walking away.

  Kenny stared open mouthed at the retreating figure. A short ponytail hung down from under the bandana, and the most beautiful ass that had ever filled out a pair of jeans undulated away from him. Kenny shook his head, rearranged himself in his jeans once more, and went to work on the bike.

  It didn’t take long for Kenny to finish adjusting the air fuel mixture. He stood waiting for the Adonis to return, admiring the gleaming machine, running his hands along the saddle, imagining the beautiful ass that had graced that very seat just a few short minutes ago.

  He had no idea how long he stood there when Sally came out of the store. “Customer says he’s been waitin’ to use the john for fifteen minutes, but somebody’s in there. I let the guy use the ladies’ room in the store. You wanna go see if there’s somethin’ wrong?”

  Kenny swallowed hard. “Sure, Sal.”

  He walked around the corner of the building and stood outside the door. He leaned against it and listened.

  “Damn!” came a muffled voice from the inside. Kenny wrapped lightly on the door. “Uh…everything okay?” There was silence for a second, and then the door opened.

  “Geez, man…this is embarrassing. I can’t get my chaps zipped. You think you can help me out here?”

  Kenny let out a whistling breath between his teeth. “Uh…uh…yeah. Yeah, sure. Be happy to.”

  “Great,” the biker said, taking hold of Kenny’s hand and pulling him inside the small restroom. He shut and locked the door. Turning to Kenny, he said, “These tight custom chaps are mandatory for the image, but man…” he looked down at the chaps and grabbed the fringe, pulling it out to the side. “They are a bitch to get on by yourself.”

  Kenny nodded dumbly and turned his gaze to the chaps. They were buckled around the biker’s tight waist, but the legs were unzipped—one was partially started, the other completely open.

&nbs
p; “If you pull the two ends together, I’ll zip,” he said, gesturing, and Kenny got the idea.

  Glad that Ben had added cleaning the bathrooms to his list of duties, Kenny sank to his knees. He grabbed the ends of the chaps and pulled. The biker man bent and tugged on the zipper. Kenny could feel the muscular thigh beneath his hands. The mechanic felt his cock hardening, his breath catching in his throat. He didn’t care. It had been so long since he had touched any man except himself; he was gonna enjoy this little bit of man-to-man. With relative ease the zipper gave way, and the biker was able to zip it all the way to his ankle. That put his upside-down face within centimeters of Kenny’s.

  He spoke softly. “Since we’re gettin’ to know each other this intimately…” he said, laughing.

  Kenny’s dick twitched within the confines of his briefs.

  “…I guess we ought to introduce ourselves. I’m Jonas. Jonas Daniels.”

  “Kenny Raymond.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Kenny Raymond,” the inverted Jonas declared with a smile.

  “You, too,” Kenny replied, smiling back.

  Jonas stood. “How about trying the other leg?” Kenny nodded enthusiastically.

  “This will be a bit trickier. Gettin’ the zipper started is the worst part. If you give my thigh a good squeeze, I should be able to get it goin’.”

  “No problem,” Kenny replied with a grin, relishing the intense feelings of arousal emanating from his throbbing dick head.

  Kenny knelt beside Jonas’ left leg, reached across, and squeezed the firm flesh of the right thigh with both hands. God, it felt good, so good. He leaned his head against the left leg. He could smell the leather and the man at the same time. The effect was intoxicating.

  “I think you need to squeeze a little higher up,” Jonas said.

  “What?”

  “Higher, move your hands up higher.”

  Kenny obeyed.

  “Higher, squeeze harder,” Jonas commanded.

  Kenny moved his hands up, until with one hand he could feel the curve of the beautiful ass he had watched saunter away from him earlier. With the other he pressed against the ample basket that had been framed so perfectly by the chaps they were struggling with now. As he pressed against that basket he realized Jonas was hard…as hard as he was. Kenny shuddered as a thrill of realization swept through him, Shit, he’s enjoyin’ this as much as I am.