Gorilla and the Metalhead

A week passed. Carlos and Gorilla texted each other every single night. Gorilla and his wheels traversed the east of the country, while Carlos summoned up the courage to make the treacherous journey all the way from his bed to his desk at the office and then back again.

Carlos teased his supervisor at every available opportunity. He was absolutely merciless. He leaned across desks, showing off his tight ass to his boss before looking back over his shoulder and winking. He stood up and adjusted his balls for absolutely no reason in the middle of meetings, while looking directly at his supervisor. Whenever he caught his boss leering at him, he poked his tongue in his cheek and made the blowjob sign, suggestively raising his eyebrows. While he knew the modest amount of money he made at work would help his band, he had absolutely no interest in his job.

He left at 5 o'clock each afternoon and travelled home. He quietly played his acoustic guitar on his apartment balcony by night, a six-pack by his side, thinking about the open road and the men who traversed them. He was probably annoying his neighbours with his guitar, but he didn't care. On warmer nights, he played nude -- none of his neighbours would ever have known.

He always woke up the next morning to go to the office again: lather, rinse and repeat.

He'd printed off a map of the continental United States which he'd pinned to a wall in his apartment. He used it to track Gorilla's location as he travelled around the nation, waiting for his truck to turn back towards Atlanta.

Band practice on Wednesday night was amazing. For Carlos, it was a total release of everything -- drilling the songs that were already in their set, experimenting with new tunes and making the good ones better, drinking beers, and feeling their collective noise pummelling their rib cages.

There's something about being in a band that's just indescribable, and right now, Carlos felt it.

The other thing he wanted to feel was a fat cock in his ass, but that'd have to wait.

At a break halfway through rehearsal, the drummer approached Carlos. "Hey, man," he said. The other two band members were chatting outside.

"Hey, Pete, how's things?"

"Good," said Pete.

There was an awkward silence. Pete had always lusted after Carlos, and when Carlos came offstage horny as fuck after a show, it was usually Pete's mouth that got him off before he went off in search of prey. And for Pete, one of the best things about being the drummer in Ass To Mouth was being able to spend an hour watching Carlos's pert, tight ass as it swayed in front of him.

"You went away?" Pete asked. For as long as Pete had known him, Carlos had never had a boyfriend. He would've loved to share a bed with Carlos, but he'd already learned he wasn't Carlos's type. He was satisfied with blowing him after their gigs, and sometimes at rehearsal. He hoped this arrangement would never change, but he feared it might -- especially if Carlos landed a steady man one day.

Carlos focused on Pete's shoulder-length red hair and his Irish freckles. Those freckles were so goddamn cute. He loved cumming on Pete's face after a show, playing connect-the-dots with his load. 'Cute' is always nice, but cuteness wasn't an attribute Carlos was looking for. There was absolutely nothing 'cute' about Gorilla, yet Carlos felt inexplicably drawn to him. Having said all that, he knew from long experience that Pete had an expert mouth.

"Yeah," Carlos replied, "I was out of town, but just for a night or two. I know it meant we cancelled band practice one night, so I'm sorry about that."

"I missed you," said Pete, licking his lips.

Carlos's noticed how wet and inviting Pete's juicy mouth was. He catapulted across the minefield of meaningless verbal bullshit by unzipping his jeans and flopping out his cock. He sat down on Pete's drum stool. "Yeah, I know exactly what you missed, dude. I know what you want. Come get it." Pete was on his knees in a matter of seconds, his fat lips wrapped around Carlos's rapidly stiffening dick.

Carlos sighed as his cock stiffened further. "Fuck, I love feeling your hot mouth on my dick, Pete. Chupa mi pene."

"Fuck, so good," Pete moaned, his tongue teasing Carlos's sensitive head. 'If only it could be like this forever,' Pete thought to himself. 'I know he doesn't want me as a boyfriend, but I'll take his cock down my throat for as long as he'll let me.'

Carlos looked down at Pete's skull as it pistoned back and forth. Pete's head game was A-1, and his wet mouth and eager tongue was about to send Carlos over the edge. "I'm 'bout to cum," Carlos declared.

The door to the rehearsal room opened. Their two other band members walked in just as Carlos unleashed his sticky goo into Pete's mouth. It wasn't anything the others hadn't seen before.

Carlos zipped up and picked up his guitar. Pete swallowed, stood up, and picked up his sticks. "We ready to play some more?" he asked his bandmates, sitting down on his drum stool.

"You don't want to rinse first?" joked the bass player.

Pete shook his head. "Nah, I'm good." He prepared to count the band into a new song. Seconds later, the rehearsal room shook with the sound of unholy metal. Pete tasted Carlos's sperm in his mouth as he rocked out.

An hour later, they'd packed up and they were ready for a post-rehearsal beer. Carlos joined his bandmates, but he maintained some mental distance from them -- he wasn't ready for the conversation he suspected Pete wanted to have with him. He downed two or three beers with his bandmates before taking his leave. "Got work tomorrow," he said.

He walked home, showered, dried his sexy mane, and texted Gorilla.

Carlos: hey sxy where r u 2nite and when r u coming back

Gorilla: u wouldn't believe me if I told u

Carlos: come on tell me

Gorilla: i'm in dc

Carlos: don't get caught in a riot you might get your ass subpoenaed

Gorilla: this place is batshit crazy i can't wait to get out of here

Carlos: you headed back this way soon big guy

Gorilla: yeah should be in ATL just after the weekend maybe tuesday next week

Carlos: FUCK YEAH

Gorilla: how was band practice tonite

Carlos: good, the drummer still likes me

Gorilla: he suck you off?

Carlos: yeah man gave him a sweet load of babies to swallow

Gorilla: hot

Carlos: he loves my dick

Gorilla: he's not the only one

There were a few moments of silence. Carlos noticed the time. He didn't want to keep Gorilla up too late, he assumed he'd have an early start in the morning.

Carlos: i better let you get to sleep, i imagine you've got another long day at the wheel 2mrw

Gorilla: yeah that's how it goes, text you tomorrow nite

They slept peacefully.

*

Carlos went to work on Thursday morning, determined to deep-fry his boss's brain. He wore a ripped t-shirt that was one size too small and left one of his nipples exposed to the world, a pair of denim shorts deliberately buttoned tight and low to showcase the top of his briefs, and the sexy thigh-high fuck-me boots he often wore on-stage. He was curious to see what might happen. His job was as boring as fuck; he needed a little fun right now, and if things turned sour, he didn't really care about the consequences.

He arrived at his building and purchased an Americano coffee from the café on the ground floor. He swiped his pass and caught the elevator to the ninth floor. He stepped out onto the floor, found his desk, fired up his PC, and took the lid off his coffee.

He'd barely sat down before his boss arrived at his desk to complain about the reports Carlos had left on his desk the night before.

"Morning, Carlos," said his supervisor, noticing his employee's unacceptable work attire.

"Hey, boss." Carlos took a sip of his morning joe. He pointed towards the cup. "Good coffee, boss. An Americano. You know what they call this type of coffee in Australia?"

His boss shrugged. He had more important things to discuss right now than coffee nomenclature.

"They don't call this an Americano down under, boss. They call it a long black, dude."

His boss was perplexed. "I'm here to talk to you about the reports you left on my desk last night. Why are you talking to me about coffee?"

Something inside Carlos snapped. "Because I know what you want." His face was a lusty, domineering scowl.

His supervisor began to blush. He looked at Carlos's exposed nipple. He realised how badly he wanted to feel it between his fingers and on his tongue, making it hard. He looked at Carlos's sexy neck, and he couldn't deny how desperately he wanted to kiss it and suck on it.

"I don't have a long black, but I've got a fat brown." Carlos stood up. "You want my fat fucking brown, don't you?" Carlos grabbed his crotch. The outline of his penis was plain for all to see. He put a hand inside his waistband and slowly began to stroke it.

Carlos's colleagues stopped typing. Phone calls ended abruptly. His boss had no idea what to say or do in response, but his silence was incriminating. He already knew his corporate reputation had been destroyed.

All Carlos's boss wanted to do was to take him to the bathroom and get on his knees. He'd always fantasised about sucking Carlos's beautiful Mexican dick until it exploded in his mouth, but his fantasy unravelled on the office floor. "Come suck on this, boss," said Carlos, unzipping his pants. His juicy cock flopped out. "I know you want it, man."

Everyone in the office had stood up to see what was happening. The office ground to a halt. All work had stopped. A heavy silence fell. His boss hesitated.

"Come on, dude. Come suck my fat brown cock." Carlos began stroking it, and his shaft stiffened further in his palm. "You want it, I know you do. Everyone on this floor already knows you want me, boss. It's no secret. So come on. Come get me. You can have me."

His boss gazed at Carlos's beautiful, thick penis. He drooled, wanting nothing more right now than to feel it on his tongue, filling his mouth. But not like this, and not here. And definitely not in front of his colleagues.

As Carlos watched his supervisor turn on his heels and exit the floor in extreme embarrassment and shame, he already knew he was gonna be fired. He didn't care. He zipped up and he returned to his tasks as if it was a regular work day. Everyone else settled back down to their own work, but Carlos expected to be frogmarched out of the building well before lunch.

And that's exactly what happened. Someone from security arrived at his desk around 11am. He asked Carlos to log off and shut his computer down, then he took his ID pass away and escorted him down to the lobby.

Carlos spent his unemployed afternoon lying in a park, face up, catching some rays. He had a small amount of accumulated savings, perhaps enough to keep himself from eviction for three or four months if he lived like a monk, but he knew he'd need to tap a new source of income soon. For now, those worries could wait.

The warm sun shone down. Carlos's beautiful face tilted up to meet the light, and he slept on the grass.

He woke up around 5pm. If he still had a job, it would've been time to head home. There was only one snag -- he didn't have a job anymore.

He bought some takeout for dinner on the way home. There was beer in the fridge. He wondered where Gorilla was.

*

Later that night, Carlos texted Gorilla.

Carlos: hey dude

Gorilla: nice 2 hear from u sexy rockstar what's up

Carlos: not much just drinking beer n got fired

Gorilla: fkn what?

Carlos: i learned a valuable lesson today -- if u expect to keep ur job, don't flop ur dick out in front of ur boss

Gorilla: hahaha you fkn didn't did u

Carlos: sadly yes i did

Gorilla: was it worth it

Carlos: hard to answer that question objectively given i got fired

Gorilla: yeah i can imagine ... so what've u got planned for tomorrow

Carlos: sleeping until 3pm

Gorilla: fuck i'll be in cincinnati by then

Carlos: you stayin at the sleep inn

Gorilla: nothing but the finest for me

Carlos: wish i was with u

Gorilla: u said ur out of a job so come meet me

Carlos: awesome idea! ... but where

Gorilla: wait gimme a second to check my itinerary

Carlos waited patiently.

Gorilla: 2 days time i'll be in indianapolis

Carlos: ur a human pinball u know that? i got a map on my wall to track where ur goin and it's like watching something unpredictable, like ur gonna be drivin to hawai'i next week

Gorilla: hahahaha yeah i get it but no srsly come meet me in Indianapolis

Carlos: would love to more than anything but man i just got fired so i can't spend that kind of money right now

Gorilla: book the bus ticket you pussy i'll pay for it

Carlos: u sure?

Gorilla: fuck yeah dude

Carlos: ok thanx sugar daddy ... just checkin before I book anything, ur talking about saturday afternoon?

Gorilla: yeah dude get ur sxy ass here, i've got sunday off and then a drive to nashville on monday and then atlanta on tuesday come with me

Carlos's heart spun cartwheels.

Carlos: let me check greyhound wait a second

Gorilla waited a few minutes.

Carlos: booked in, meet u in indianapolis on saturday afternoon

Gorilla was beside himself. He still couldn't believe that this sexy Mexican metalhead was so into him. It didn't make any sense.

Gorilla: see u then sxy fucker

They slept.

*

Carlos had a lazy Friday morning, having been fired the day before, but he knew the bus trip to meet Gorilla in Indianapolis would be challenging. Carlos had turned his alarm off before sleeping, knowing there was absolutely no reason to wake for business hours. There was a split second of panic when he eventually woke at 11am, thinking he was going to be monumentally late for work, but once he realised he didn't have a job to go to anymore, he felt sheer relief and joy. He pulled the blinds closed so his bedroom was in total darkness, rejecting the concept of morning. He fired up his laptop and placed it on the mattress next to him. He plugged his external hard drive into the computer, and countless gigabytes of previously accumulated porn became accessible.

Carlos found his prostate stimulator, fully charged. He squeezed out some lube, rubbed it on his asshole and wedged the device in. The remainder of his lube landed on his dick, and he stroked himself.

He fired up some hot porn, and it didn't take long for Carlos to cum.

He pulled the stimulator out of his ass. He took it to the bathroom and cleaned it, then slept some more; his alarm was set for 3pm. It was gonna be a short day, but a long night.

*

Twelve hours in an uncomfortable seat. Fucking hell. Why the hell was he catching the bus to Indianapolis when he could've flown there in 90 minutes? He checked his phone and noticed a few emails about his severance package had arrived in his inbox, but they could wait. He made sure to pack some clothes and books in his backpack, and to bring the USB chargers for his mp3 player and cellphone. He left his apartment on Friday at sunset, and headed to the Atlanta bus terminal where his overnight Greyhound awaited for an 8pm departure. The engine was already turning over. He presented the e-ticket on his cell and boarded.

Knowing he was no longer employed made him feel free. But fuck. Twelve fucking hours. This was gonna be a marathon. And the seat was unbearable even before the bus left Atlanta. Alcohol was strictly prohibited onboard the bus, but he'd managed to smuggle a half-bottle of vodka in his bag. He sat down at the very back of the bus, bluetoothed his headphones to his cell, and slowly got smashed on straight vodka as he listened to metal at volume levels that'd wake the freshly dead.

Carlos: I'm on the bus

Gorilla: cool see you 2mrw im about to go to sleep

Carlos: i got no idea where you are 2nite but i wish i was with you

Gorilla: same and for what it's worth I'm in Charleston west virginia, so only a 5 hour drive 2 c u tomorrow

Carlos: im gonna see if there are any metal gigs in indianapolis tomorrow night

Gorilla: good idea ... but hey I need to get some sleep tonite have a safe journey and I'll see u 2mrw afternoon

Carlos: c u tomorrow

Carlos' eardrums disintegrated in the face of a full-on metal assault. He ran out of vodka around midnight and collapsed into sleep.

*

Sunrise at 7am. The morning light of Saturday shone through the window of the bus. Carlos shielded his sensitive eyes and tried to continue sleeping, though it was difficult. The seats on this bus were torturous. His back ached like he was 90 years old, and he felt monumentally hungover. He couldn't believe he hadn't brought any food with him. He rummaged through his bag, but he couldn't find anything edible. The motion of the bus began to make him feel nauseous. He remembered there was a bathroom onboard. He stood up and wobbled his way to the bathroom. He lifted the toilet seat, knelt down, and prayed to the gods of regurgitation. He left a healthy offering.

Once the moment of rapture had passed, he stood up, wiped the remains of vomit off his face, and returned to his seat. His stomach was empty, but he knew he'd cope with the remainder of the journey. He stank. He wanted to brush his teeth, but he didn't have the energy. He hated feeling like this. He tried to go back to sleep, but failed.

The bus arrived at its destination, and a crumpled, dishevelled Carlos disembarked. He knew Gorilla would still be on the road, so he curled up on a bench in the Indianapolis bus terminal and tried to sleep.

A security guard approached him.

"Please, let me sleep, dude," Carlos begged. "I've been on a bus for twelve hours from Atlanta, I'm meeting someone soon, and I'm desperately hungry and tired. Can't I just sleep here for a second?"

The security guy felt sympathy and left him alone. Even though Carlos looked like human wreckage, at least he wasn't homeless. People came and went, buses arrived and departed, and Carlos snored through it all. The security guy walked past Carlos from time to time, making sure he was safe.

Carlos woke around 2pm. He'd rarely felt this thirsty before, and his stomach was bordering on mutiny. He collected his bag and walked out into the street in search of food and water. The security dude waved goodbye, and Carlos mouthed a 'thank you'.

The sun was blinding. Carlos's phone registered a message from Gorilla. 'Hey I'm still on the road but I'm assuming you've arrived.' The rest of the message contained the check-in details for Gorilla's room at the Indianapolis Sleep Inn. He rose from the dead, walked to the kerb, and hailed a cab.

The taxi dropped him out front of the Sleep Inn. Before checking in, he bought two large bottles of water and two egg salad sandwiches from the 7-11 across the street. After checking in, he inhaled the sandwiches, drank a third of the water, and brushed his teeth for like forever. He pulled the shutout blinds closed and slept.

Gorilla arrived at the Sleep Inn around 4pm and was informed by the reception staff that he'd already been checked in, and that the other guest had taken possession of both room keys. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to open the door to his room without a key of his own.

He found the room and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked a little louder.

Still nothing.

He pounded his fist on the door, and three other rooms on his floor opened in response. "I'm very sorry," mumbled the embarrassed trucker. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

The door to his room finally opened. A naked Carlos appeared, rubbing his eyes. "Hey, dude."

Gorilla was unimpressed. "Sorry for waking you up," he seethed, "but this is my fucking room! Why did you take both keys?"

"I wasn't thinking properly," Carlos yawned, throwing the door open. "I'm sorry. I guess I didn't sleep too well on the bus. The seats weren't very comfortable, and I got wasted."