Author's Note
Characters really do take on a life of their own, so it's not my fault that I'm writing erotic fiction. I'd been developing characters for an unrelated project, and two of them couldn't keep their hands off each other. It was like those annoying neighbors that have loud sex all the fucking time, only it's going on in your own head and you can't call the management. So, I gave up on trying to keep them from fucking and started writing a vignette (and possibly an apology letter to some aurally abused former neighbors). Efrain and Cory liked it so much, they asked for another. Then they decided they were totally into each other and the rest kinda if-you-give-a-mouse-a-cookie'd out from there.
Efrain and Cory's story doesn't really have a plot-plot, as it was always episodic and character-driven to begin with, and the narrative point-of-view shifts to which ever character can most effectively tell the story at that moment. This is my first attempt at both erotica and extended fiction, and I more than welcome feedback. Thank you for reading. ~Dayne
Prologue – Locker Staring Contest
I thought I'd left my days of staring into gym lockers back in high school. I picked up the habit in middle school the one time I caught the wrong asshole's attention and got the shit beat out of me. I'd kept it up for six years, and thought my senior year would be the last time. University was supposed to be the liberal bastion of sodomy and sin, and I'd left my homophobic Texas hometown for Virginia (which if you ask any Southerner isn't technically in the South, even if it is below the Mason-Dixon). I am in a much better place, I shouldn't have to stare at my locker while changing for practice.
It's not that I want to stay in the closet, I don't hide that I'm bi, I just can't find a less awkward time to come out. I don't really brag about conquests, male or female, and I'm not in a relationship either. Plus, the places I pick up men and the places I pick up women aren't the same, and there is only one place I seem to run into my teammates. So I can't really blame them for not figuring out that Cory Card, freshman linebacker, plays for both teams.
And, to be honest, most of them seem like they wouldn't care, nor would they read anything into stray looks. I've managed to break the locker-staring habit, and do well enough to look at whoever is talking to me, but I still have reason enough to keep my eyes fixed where they'd been for most of my teens –
Fucking Efrain fucking Garza.
Chapter One – Eat a Dick, Texas
Before I get anywhere, I would like to make this point understood: Texas can eat a dick. In fact, Texas can eat a big fucking bag of dicks. It's only 9 AM, but it's hot as balls already and mine are currently stuck to my leg. Kinda awkward to give my mom goodbye hugs and kisses while trying to discreetly unglue my family jewels from my thigh.
But, hug and kiss I do, rubber-cemented nutsack notwithstanding, and say my goodbyes to Dad before I climb into my truck. I turn the key in the ignition and roll down my window for final goodbyes. I promise to take frequent breaks, and they threaten to check my credit card charges to make sure I stop at the appropriate number of hotels to get a decent night's sleep.
"There's 24 hours in a day, what's the harm in using 19 of them to drive?"
"Two days, minimum." My dad gets this really stern look on his face.
"I really do wish you'd take at least three, Cory."
"I'm like the fourth son you've sent off," I say. "Aren't you supposed to be so over child rearing that you let me do whatever?"
