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Better Change

We're on our way to meet the girls, John driving and me riding shotgun as usual. I'd have been perfectly happy to spend the evening just hanging around one of our places--eating pizza, watching porn, and drinking too much beer. Actually, I really like doing that, because when John get's most of a six pack under his belt... *Nope, shouldn't think about six packs under John's belt. Too good a visual.* When he sucks down about... *Shouldn't think about John sucking down anything, either.* After about five beers at home, John usually strips down to his boxers to get comfortable, which is fine by me.

Anyway, we're in his brand new Chevy Avalanch. Real roomy bastard. It makes me miss his little Nissan. I mean, it was for crap, but the cab was so small that I had an excuse to fall against him when he made a sharp turn. It was worth risking a damn ticket just to end up half in his lap occasionally. If you've been listening, I probably don't have to tell you that I have the serious hots for John. I have since senior year. He's the reason why I got a doctor's excuse to not shower in gym. Of course he knows nothing about it--witness the fact that we're on our way to pick up 'the girls'.

We're on a lonely stretch of road when John says, "We ought to change before we pick up the girls."

Well, that's weird, but we're on our way back from the laundromat, so we have plenty of fresh clothes. And it might give me a chance to see John just about naked, so I'm all for it, but, "What if someone comes along?"

He pulls over to the side of the road. "Are you kidding? When was the last time you saw anyone else on this stretch of road?"


He gets out on his side, I get out on mine, snagging a change of clothes. I'm really hustling, because I want to get done in time to at least catch a look at him bare chested. I hear some thunking sounds, but I'm concentrating too hard to look up. Maybe he's having a hard time finding his clothes. That would be great. If I get done first, I can just sit back and watch him strip, then get dressed.

I'm shirtless, and have my pants around my knees, one foot up while I try to work the pants leg over my boot, when I hear, "What are you doing?"

I look up. John is sitting behind the driver's seat again, and he's raised the seats in back so that now the Avalanch is an SUV instead of a pick-up. I wince. Shit, that's what he meant about changing. "I... um..." He's staring. I can feel myself starting to blush. I start trying to raise my pants, but the fuckers now will not go back up. "Y'see, you said change, and I thought..." He's still staring. My blood is now about to boil away what few brain cells I have left. He's sliding across the seat. Oh, shit. He's gonna pop me upside the head. I grab my shirt and slip my arms into the sleeves, figuring I ought to be partially dressed for when the paramedics get there.

John's hands shoot out and grab both sides of my collar. He's turned around to sit with his legs hanging out of the door, and he drags me right up between those firm thighs. All of a sudden my boxers are pressed against his jeans and helloooo, Nurse! If he wasn't gonna kill me before, he is after he feels that boner in my shorts. I keep babbling frantically, "See, I thought you meant change for the girls, and..."

"Screw the girls." He kisses me.

You know, the Avalanche really does have a roomy back seat.