September 16, 2007

Combustion by Fiona Glass

"Is it always this quick?" yelled Jake, gasping and making a grab for the dashboard.

"Relax," Benny mumbled with his mouth full.  "I haven't finished yet."

Jake bucked in his seat.  "God!  I thought I'd tried it all but I've never known anything like this before."

"Yeah.  Suck squeeze bang and blow.  Nothing to beat it."

"What?"

"I read it somewhere.  Good description, don't you think?"

Jake bucked again.  "Yeah, very appropriate.  Four strokes and an emission and you're anybody's."

"Hey.  That's hardly fair."  Benny looked so hurt that Jake reached out and ruffled his hair.

"Sorry, mate.  You go ahead and enjoy yourself.  It's your birthday treat after all."

A little-boy grin peeped out from under Benny's hair.  "And we've still got twenty minutes to go.  Hang onto your seat - let's see what it's like when I really rev things up."

Half an hour later the two men clambered unsteadily out of the car.

"Wow," said Jake.

"Fantastic," said Benny.  "I wouldn't mind doing that every day of the week.  I've always been partial to throbbing pistons."

"I'm more of a leg man myself," said Jake, eyeing the long, jeans-clad pair beside him.  "Anyway, we'd better get this thing back to the garage.  If we're late they'll charge us for the overtime."

"I guess you're right."  Benny sighed and stroked one hand over smooth curves.  "Pity, though.  She's beautiful.  The Audi just won't seem the same."

Jake gazed with awe at the sleek lines and gleaming black paintwork of the Ferrari Testarossa they'd just hired for an hour.  It had cost him the best part of a week's wages, but it had been worth every minute watching Benny's face as he threw the sports car round the corners of their local driving track.  "I know what you mean.  They don't exactly have anything like this on the company car list.  I thought I was going to lose my lunch when you went over that hump at ninety-five."

"Oh!  That reminds me."  Benny ducked back inside the car - a feat of contortion for his six-foot-two frame - and emerged with a slightly squashed super-size packet of rum and raisin fudge.  "Nearly forgot this.  Want one?"

"No, thanks, mate," said Jake, eyeing the crumpled wrapper with distaste.  "Looks like you've been sitting on it.  Anyway, it's your treat."

"Yeah."  Benny popped two pieces of fudge into his mouth at once and chewed, before adding indistinctly, "Best birthday ever.  Thanks, Jake.  Means a lot."

"You're welcome."

Benny was stretching out the kinks after their long hour squashed into the Ferrari's tiny cabin.  Jake watched the play of lean muscle under the denim and swallowed.  "Er, what was that you were saying about sucking and blowing," he said suddenly, with the faintest hint of a tremor in his voice.

Nothing moved on Benny's face apart from one eyebrow, which somehow managed to change his whole expression from smile to leer.  "You want to give it a go for real?"

Jake swallowed again.  "Yeah.  Wouldn't mind.  I can give you the rest of your birthday pressie."

The leer became sheer mischief.  "In the Ferrari?"

"I dunno...."  It would cost him another week's wages, not to mention the probable cleaning bill, and the cabin was so small he'd probably knock himself out on the steering wheel.  But still, sex in a Ferrari was something you didn't do every day.  "I guess it's too good an opportunity to miss," he said at last.

"Sounds good to me."  Benny squashed himself back into the driver's seat and twisted the ignition key.  "Okay, get your arse inside," he yelled over the sudden roar of the car's twelve-cylinder engine.  "I know a nice quiet wood not far from here.  Let's bugger off while nobody's watching us, and see if we can't spark your engine to life."

Jake grinned and hunkered down into the car, trying not to damage his rock-hard cock in the process.  The thought of some illicit, semi-public sex with Benny, their bodies a writhing tangled mass and their legs quite possibly dangling out of the car's windows, was firing him up. Suck squeeze bang and blow indeed. 

"Motor's already running, mate," he said.

© 2007 Fiona Glass