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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A Shot of Bourbon - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:


: distilled by viv :

There's nothing in the world like straddling a 250cc motor while it's being revved menacingly. In those few seconds before the start gate faints before you, in that moment, everything is perfect. You're just as good as everyone else, no matter what you choose to do in other areas of your life.

The way the engine vibrates against your crotch gives you substance, and power to make your dreams come true. Like I said, there's nothing in the world like it. Eh, maybe just one thing.

You must be wondering by now what the hell I am talking about? For the uninitiated, it must seem odd, but it is one of the few slivers of heaven that exist on this chunk of dirt. Let me start by telling you who I am, and what and I do.

Bourbon, that's me. No, it's not my real name it's a nickname. My dad has called me that since I was a little shit. He claims that's what it took to get him into mom's arms that fateful night. At that time, she always calls him an ass before taking a sweet nibble of his lips.

Yes, the two frolicking over by the toy hauler like drunken high school kids are my parents, and I'm happy to have them. They play fight more than get in any serious knockdown drag-outs, so as far as I'm concerned, they can do what they like.

As far as what I do?

Well besides going to high school full-time, I race dirt bikes. Not pro yet, but hopefully someday, I'd like to fly through the arches at the L.A. Coliseum. Me on my Honda, fists raised in triumph, as millions of flashbulbs catch the defining moment.

Yeah, a good dream for its type. I have others though, and one thing definitely gives me a better feeling than the heat of my engine licking the inside of my thighs.

What is it, you ask? Well I'm going to tell you, it all started this past summer...

I had just finished my sophomore year, and the DMV had foolishly given me a license to wield a large vehicle. The first thing I did was a visit the local tat shop.

Me inked? Not yet, that's Mom's rule, No ink until I'm eighteen.

Next summer...

Anyhow, I had Mom and Dad's consent, so I got both my nipples pierced. I'm not going to lie and, call me a pussy if you like, but that shit hurt! The outcome, however, is most pleasurable. Sorta like the opposite of having kids. You know the old adage; moment of pleasure, lifetime of pain, that's it reversed

Anyhow, that was the summer I met Rusty. We've gone to the same schools all our lives, and only lived a street away, so I knew of him, I just didn't know him. He had a reputation of being a right little prick when he wanted. Rusty played soccer in some club away from school. Plainly, he did his thing; I did mine.

We never really bumped heads 'til that summer. Late June can be a bitch in SoCal, but thank God for heat waves and silver jewelry. I was out in the front yard mowing the grass like any dutiful teenage son. All right, so the mower made it halfway out of the garage, and I was sitting in the driveway astride my bike just screwing around, making the motor scream.

"Bourbon," My mom yelled from just inside the garage door. "Get off the bike and mow the grass before I grab the nearest object and knock you with it." I grudgingly released the clutch and heard my baby come to a screeching stop as I made faces to the street.

"Ma, you know I like that kinky stuff," I grinned wickedly at her as I pushed my Beast to its place in the garage.

"Mow the lawn smart ass," she replied with an easy smirk as she grabbed an Aquafina from the garage fridge.

"Oh I see," I said. "You rest easy in your palace of A.C. with your soaps and cold water, while your son melts on a sea of green," I groaned.

We were playing now; anything that delayed the inevitable was worth it.

"And just why do you think I bought your father that bottle of bourbon?" she laughed. "Trust me, it was worth every penny," she added as she retreated into the chilled air of the house. Soon the sound of the mower filled the air.

It was in this half-hour of hell that Rusty walked past. At first, I paid him little notice, just smiled slightly, and watched him saunter away, thinking nice thoughts about his lithe body as he made his way past. The second time past, he stopped and stared for a moment as if he was trying to get up the courage to say something. I was aware of him, and stole glimpses of my own, as I emptied the collection bag into the green waste container.

"That your bike?" Rusty asked, as he glanced at The Beast lurking in the shadows of the garage.

My eyes traveled his line of sight until they rested on the white number placard with the number '15' in big block letters.

"Yeah" I said; my grin wide, proud of my passion. "You wanna see it?" I asked glancing at him again.

He was up in the drive now, and his eyes froze me in place. I was lost in those deep pools of molten chocolate. It was a damn good thing I had on my baggy cargo shorts, 'cause other parts of me wanted to get a look at this guy too.

"If you don't mind that is," he said, shaking me out of my brief reverie.

I closed my eyes and turned my back on him as I walked to the garage, willing the throbbing in my boxers to go away. I was very confused at this point. I mean yeah, I'm a teenager, and the weirdest things make me pop bone, but eyes? With my back turned I couldn't tell you what he looked like. I could, however draw a detailed picture of the windows to his soul.

"Wanna ride?" I finally asked as I pulled The Beast from its resting-place.

I wasn't quite sure where I wanted this line of questioning to go, but I knew I wanted this guy in my life, any way I could get him. I swung my leg over the seat and sat there proudly for a moment as he eagerly agreed. I wouldn't let a second slide for him to change his mind. I quickly jumped down on the kick-start and The Beast roared to life with a high-pitched squeal of anger. I sat and revved the engine a few times, smiling wickedly as the vibrations made their way up my spine.

"Let's go," I said, trying to sound less excited than I was. I motioned for him to slide on behind me.

"Helmets?" he asked in a low yell, concern tarnishing his beautiful eyes.

"Dude, trust me," I said as I turned and looked into those eyes again. I revved the motor and let it whine down before repeating the action. "Get on."

He looked at the bike, and then back at me. I smiled slightly, watching the apprehension melt from his face. Rusty hopped on the bike and seemed undecided about where to hold on.

"Here" I said, my left hand searching for his, and finding it, I pulled it around my waist. Rusty quickly took the hint, and soon his hands were clasped tight against the bare flesh of my belly. Oh yes, this was going to be the best ride on my bike in my young life... screw the coliseum. "Hold on tight and lean with me on the turns, I'll take care of the rest."

Rusty nodded his head and gripped my midsection tightly. I smiled, squeezing the clutch with my right hand as I pressed up on the shifter, putting The Beast into first, and slowly moving the bike into the street. As soon as I made sure the coast was clear, I opened the bike up, not full speed, but close. The Beast began to whimper for the release of another gear, complying, I quickly shifted from first to second, and on into third, and soon we were flying along the smooth pavement. It was great, warm air streaming around us, making his shirt flap madly in the wind. The faster The Beast charged, the tighter his fingers gripped my stomach. I found it cute, the way Rusty had taken to resting his chin on my shoulder, trying to see what lay in our path.

I don't know if it was the sweat or what, but as I maneuvered the bike around a corner, his hands slipped dangerously low in my lap. I mean dangerously. Another few inches and he would be cupping my balls.

"Dude, you wanna move your hands up a bit?" I asked him as my throat began to dry. I even started to perspire more. Damn he was making me nervous. I almost dumped the bike, twice, but I don't think he noticed.

"Huh?" he asked, sounding groggy, like my voice woken him up from a dream.

"Your hands dude, any lower and you'll be cupping my jock." Now this is weird but, I swear I could feel him blush as his hands slid back up to my taut stomach. I had to get us back to my house soon, if I didn't we were bound to get very, very hurt. Even though I didn't want the ride to end, he was soon climbing off The Beast and onto my driveway.

"Man that was awesome," Rusty said as he looked at the bike in awe. "I wish I had one."

I took the opportunity to look him over as his hands brushed along the bike admiringly. He was about my height, six-foot-one, give or take an inch. I've already told you about the awesome eyes above his button nose. He was lean, not disgustingly lean, but a good, healthy lean. We both had brown hair, but where mine was spiked, his was closer cropped, and gelled forward in a sorta Caesar-type cut.

"Whoa Dude," he said excited, pointing at my chest. "That's fucking hot," his hand reached out, stopping just before they made contact with my nipples. "I mean for the ladies," he continued, this time quietly, as his eyes begged permission to touch the contrast of flesh and steel.

My head nodded slightly and I closed my eyes, feeling the electricity tingle through my chest at his touch. I took a sharp breath as he fondled the little silver balls that flanked the barbell piercing my nipple. It took all my will to keep from grabbing his head and sucking the air from his lungs, afterwards breathlessly letting him know we could finish what had been started upstairs in my room.

Yeah, I could have done that... and more... that first day he later confessed, but neither of us had the balls to take things up a step. I did however, get the consolation prize of his company.

He slowly began to appear more often on the weekends, and we became fast friends as he began to hang around with me during lunch at school. We even started driving with each other in the morning, one week I'd drive, and he would the next. I also enjoyed many more trips up and down the street on The Beast with him. Eventually, he even mustered the courage to mount the bike alone.

He was a little shaky at first, but after a few weekends riding, he was going good, like he had been born with an engine beneath him. I was proud of him, and really enjoyed watching him ride The Beast. It was cute, how he hesitated at first, saying he didn't want to break it. Now though, he was out there jumping over bunny hills.

Late July, I was helping my dad unload the toy hauler at some nondescript racetrack. I would be racing in about an hour, and Rusty had come to help and give me support. My eyes followed him, a slight smile coming to my face as I watched him putter around on the bike, warming it up, but not stressing it out.

It was as I stared at him that my dad hit me upside the head with my gloves. His eyes had followed mine and noted who I was staring at. I considered him with dark eyes; his smile was genuine as he tossed me my gloves.

"You need to tell him Bourbon," he said, squinting through the golden sunlight at Rusty. "I know the look you gave him, don't be ashamed Kid." I was getting his serious look, and it spelled out clearly that he meant what he said. You know the 'my word is my bond' type of look?

"Huh, what?" I asked him, playing stupid as a look of horror crossed my face.

He didn't buy it though. He just smiled at me, a weird smile that said he knew, understood, and supported me. To answer, I dropped my shoulders in defeat, and walked away. I knew he was right anyhow. I'd have to tell Rusty sooner or later.

I pulled on my helmet and goggles, adjusting them properly, then pulled on my gloves before I heard the growl of The Beast behind me. Completely hidden, as I was in the protective garb, Rusty gave me a funny look and his brow furrowed.

"Is Bourbon in there?" Rusty joked. I gave him the finger and shoved him off my bike. Rusty took it in stride, laughing as he wished me luck with a heavy slap to my back and a thumbs-up.

"I have something to tell you after the race," I said, my voice muffled by the helmet, before I headed off and into the gate.

Now, I told you before, there's nothing like this feeling in the whole world. The sound of fifteen bikes, all revving and adding to the scent of the wet clay-rich soil, the heat from the power plant you're straddling slowly lapping at your inner thighs. For a split second, each of you are just as good as anyone else. We all start as equals, only to hoist one to the top.

I soon went into auto, the gate fell, and we took off as one. Then the line split as the more skilled pulled away from the pack. Thankfully, I was one of them, one of the top four places, for the first five laps around the medium course, so I am told. On the sixth time around, I don't know what happened. I couldn't tell you.

My bike fell from the air and landed hard... I was out; and with a painful scream of its engine, The Beast was silenced forever. When I came to, I was pissed off, mostly over the twisted mass of metal that had been my bike. All right... so it wasn't that bad... but the frame was shot and, for now, so was the bike.

I pushed past the medics as they tried to check me out. I knew I was fine, save for the cut above my right eye, and a few bruises. My body felt like it had been shellacked with a layer of the red-colored dirt, but I didn't care. I had one thing on my mind.

So there I was, sore, a severe case of helmet head, blood trickling down the right side of my face as I slowly climbed the earthen berm. I hefted my sore body over the hay bales marking the perimeter of the course and stood on the other side. Watching Rusty run up with a worried look on his face, my heart ached, and as he got closer and I saw tears tracing tracks down his soft cheeks, it broke all together. He ran right into me, almost causing me to fly backward over the bales, I would have too, if he hadn't wrapped his arms tightly around my chest.

My mind fought through the pain, just as I was comforted by his awesome hug. I looked down at his head smashed against my soiled riding jersey, and dropping the helmet I was holding, I pried his face from my chest and forced him to look me in the eyes. He watched me intently, not saying anything, just studying me as closely as I studied him.

I melted into him completely, and he didn't protest when my lips touched the corner of his mouth. He moaned lightly as they grazed across his. He closed his eyes and I kissed the opposite corner. He fell into me when my lips found his, my tongue lightly licking his lips, requesting entry. His lips complied, opening for me. I didn't care who saw us, or how long we stood there, all I knew was I wanted the clothes off him, and now, against the hay bale would be just fine.

But part of me screamed stop. Those same voices must have yelled at him too, 'cause we broke the kiss at the same time. All thoughts of my sore body were gone. He looked sideways at the bale, making me smile at my previous thought.

I winced, leaning down to pick up my helmet. Rusty noticed and took my hand, helping me stand upright before throwing my arm over his shoulder and helping me to the truck. I mostly remained quiet, still reeling from that wonderful kiss.

"Bourbon?" he asked with a touch of shyness in his voice. "Why didn't you do that the first day at your house?" Rusty's question caught me off guard, and I had to stop for a minute to come up with an answer.

"Afraid I guess," I mumbled a half excuse, trying to buy myself more time. "The first time I looked into your eyes that day, I wanted to kiss you, badly, but something stopped me," I explained. "Call it self doubt, whatever, I don't care, I'm just glad I finally did."

Rusty's eyes lit up when I said that, but it was more than his eyes, his whole face began to glow. "I'm glad too, Bourbon," he said quietly.

"Staying the night?" I asked easily, yet well aware of its implications.

"Marines couldn't drag me away," his eyes sparkled, and he squeezed me gently.

It took four hours to get home that night. The Beast had been towed to Chaparral to see if it could be repaired. I too, was forced into a detour to a repair shop. Luckily enough, the private hospital was empty so they saw me quickly, that is, if you call an hour waiting to be seen, thirty minutes with the Doc, and an additional forty-five in the pharmacy fast.

As it turned out, yours truly, had a few bruised ribs and a mild concussion. But I did get a killer Vicodine prescription. Mom took it right away, and announced she would dish it out as required. Oh well, I didn't want any drugs tonight anyway, I only wanted Rusty.

"Night Cap?" I joked, as we passed the wet bar on our way to my room.

My parents had dropped us off and left to go have dinner. Trust me; it was a fight to get them to go. Dad finally gave in when I begged. With Dad in my corner, it didn't take long to convince Mom.

"A shot of Bourbon" he said, as he turned me around and pressed his lips to mine. He pulled away and tugged the jersey off my body. "A shot, swallow, gulp. I don't care, I just want Bourbon"

His voice was heated, and it made me blush to be wanted so badly.

With little notice, Rusty had attached his lips on my nipples. I moaned loudly, smashing his head to my chest. I needed what he was doing, the way his tongue lapped at and rolled my piercing around. I was seriously sporting wood in my boxers now, painfully stretching the fabric of the riding pants outward.

"Shower?" I moaned when I had the chance, wanting to rid my body of the stale sweat that covered it.

Rusty's head popped up and he shook it passionately. "Bed," he laughed.

I wasn't about to cross him, so I followed him, and soon we were safely locked in my room. He had me lie on my bed, face up, and wasted little time in stripping off the riding pants I was still wearing, leaving me only in my very full, gray boxer briefs.

He took a moment and just looked at me. It made me feel uncomfortable, but he was smiling so slightly, that all the self-doubt melted away. Slowly, his hand reached out and began to massage my abs and chest. He tweaked my nipples every so often eliciting sharp gasps from me. His lips replaced his hand, the fleshy dart of his mouth flicking my tits expertly. In no time, I had a large wet spot on the front of my boxers.

I gasped as he squeezed my dick through the gray fabric. His hand slowly slid up and down the outlined fabric, and his lips slowly made their way down the plains of my torso, kissing and nibbling as he went. His hand continued to stroke my organ slowly and skillfully, his wandering mouth found its way to my belly button and lingered, kissing at the crevice, licking it skillfully.

Okay, I don't know how you're wired, but I swear there is a path that goes from my navel, straight to the tip of my dick. Strange, I know, but hey, it's what makes me, me, and I'm glad Rusty let me know I had this connection.

Every time his tongue probed my navel, a pulse of pleasure shot right to the tip of my dick. I didn't know how I was going to take much more of this. Then, suddenly, he stopped, and those chocolate eyes met my own lust-filled ones. He slowly hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and quickly dragged them off.

He gasped. I opened my eyes and saw him gazing at me in all my shaven glory. I don't remember why I started shaving my pubes in the first place, but I like the way it looks, and the way it feels, so I kept doing it. I just know it isn't a common thing; so showing it off kinda scares me.

"What?" I asked, shaking with nervousness as he continued to stare. Don't freak out, it isn't any monster cock or anything, just your plain, average, six-and-a-half inch, circumcised dick.

So I figured it must have been the barren flesh that made him pause.

"Beautiful," he muttered as his hand reached out and took a firm hold on my dick. He simply held it and moved his head forward, kissing the bare skin above my dick. It was a weird feeling, the roundness of his cheek brushing against my engorged shaft. I let my head fall back on the pillow, just enjoying the feeling of his hand smearing the precum up and down my erection. I was beginning to squirm around under his almost expert attention, when I felt something wet and warm embrace the head of my organ.

I opened my eyes wide with this new sensation, looking down at the top of his head. I watched silently as he slid halfway down my shaft and then pulled up again. Rusty slowly worked his hand over my nuts, caressing them, holding them, fondling them gently as his mouth worked up and down my dick. His tongue moving over the head in a way I couldn't even begin to explain, but I got the feeling that he was no stranger to this.

My pelvis thrust up from the bed and my hands clutched at the short hairs that veiled the top of his head. There was something soothing about the soft fur, the way the sharp, fresh-cut ends raked across the flesh of my hands. I was lost running my hands through it, enjoying the feeling. I couldn't get enough. It was while I was massaging his scalp, that Rusty released my tool and used his hand to slowly jack my saliva-covered dick.

His skilled lips moved south, maneuvering over the exposed flesh of my sack, generating a moan of delight from deep in my chest. He peered at me and made eye contact as his chin moved to the left side of my nuts. I watched, mesmerized by his eyes as he extended his tongue and slowly ran it clear up the crease between my inner thigh and nut sac. My eyes rolled back in my head from the sheer eroticism of the experience.

I couldn't take it anymore... I had to taste him again. I pulled him up by his armpits, dragging his clothed body over my nude one, until his mouth was in line with mine. My lips attacked his mouth, sucking momentarily on his bottom lip, tasting the salt from my body that lingered there. He moaned into my mouth as I snaked my tongue onto his, exploring every crevice I could, licking the spot where my dick had been only moments before.

"Fuck," I whispered as my lips released his tongue. My hands had wrapped themselves in his shirt and I pulled it from his body.

I was so wrapped up in what Rusty was doing to me, that I had forgotten that he was still fully dressed. With one hand, I deftly undid the belt on his pants while the other stroked the ridges of his spine, all the while holding contact with his hungry, lust-filled eyes.

"Bourbon," he moaned.

"Ssshhh," I whispered between kisses. "Trust me," my voice echoing the words from our meeting not so long ago as I rolled him onto his back. Slowly, I kissed my way along his cheek and down his neck, tasting the salty skin.

"I al-," he began, but I silenced him by placing a digit to his lips that he eagerly sucked into his mouth, biting it gently, before twirling his tongue around it. I continued my trek down, licking his nipples, while my free hand pushed the loose denim as far as I could reach without pulling my finger from the magic of Rusty's mouth.

Soon, my face was level with a tented pair of American flag print boxers. I leaned in, touching my lips on the obstruction creating the tent, and slowly lapped at the salty fabric. I moaned into the spit-covered cotton as he continued to work his magic on my finger. As I rinsed him through the fabric, my right hand sneaked its way beneath his ass and slowly began to pull his boxers down, inch by inch, until my prize was revealed.

Before me, was the most perfect seven inches of meat I had ever seen. Though I could have gotten jealous over his size advantage, it honestly didn't bother me a bit. It was a natural extension of who he was, and I loved its slight curve. I kissed the head slowly, smearing the bud of dew across my lips, intoxicated by the musky scent of his trim pubic hairs. My hand brushed against his smooth balls sending tingles all the way up my arm.

Yeah, a catch, a guy who knew the worth of a razor almost as well as I did. I felt my slimy finger fall from his mouth as he noticed my attention to his bald sack.

"I can't do it, it took thirteen years to grow them, and I'm not saying goodbye so quickly!" he said with a mock pout.

I just chuckled and returned my attention to the task at hand. I leaned down and kissed the base of his cock, feeling his coarse pubic hair rub against my chin. He moaned in delight as I made a path of small kisses up to the head before I dove down, taking the head into my mouth, mimicking his labor on my fingers.

My hand cupped his sack as I began to inch my way down his meaty member. It was a fantastic, paradoxical feeling of dominance and vulnerability. The way it throbbed dully with his heartbeat, the heat it radiated, the rubbery, rigid texture, I just loved it. I found it so erotic, as it mixed with the smell of him.

Rusty squirmed beneath me, moaning as he kicked one of his Vans off and pulled one leg free of the restricting boxers and pants. He spread his legs allowing easier access as he moaned, thrusting his dick into my willing mouth. He released my fingers as he elevated his torso and gazed down at me, rocking his hips to meet my lips and tongue.

I was in heaven with his cock in my mouth, lost in the rhythm of the dance his hips and my face shared. I caught his eyes sparkling in the dark as he continued to purr with pleasure. Too soon, his stomach muscles began to contract, the pace of his thrusts quickening.

"Bourbon," he panted, pulling my mouth away from his dick.

I was annoyed at the intrusion of his hands but understood as his eyes slammed shut and the tendons in his jaw stiffened. I watched in awe as three ropes of cum spewed from his swollen head, blazing a trail from his navel, to the patch of trim hair above his dick.

Rusty slowly opened his eyes after releasing a contented sigh and a goofy grin that made his flushed cheeks puffy. His eyes flashed at me and his chest heaved for a few moments.

"God Bourbon," he said still panting. "That was great."

He brushed his hand through my hair and down along the side of my face. I just smiled at him with a devilish glint in my eyes before I leaned down and lapped up the salty deposit that ran from his bush to his lower belly, savoring the taste. I crawled my way up his body and resting my weight on him, I kissed the goofy grin off his face, allowing him to taste himself as I did. He broke the kiss, licking his lips and pulling back.

"Not bad," he grinned and teased my lips with his own.

"What?" I asked, needing his praise.

"The taste," he said smiling.

I told you he could be a right prick didn't I? I answered his joke by twisting his exposed nipple between my fingers, causing him to howl with surprise as he wrestled away from my pinching fingers. He quickly kissed me and flipped me onto my back.

"You wanna know how it was huh?" he asked, pinning my arms to the bed, his brown eyes smoldering seductively.

I meekly nodded at his question, the lust in his eyes stealing the wind from my words and any smartass comments I could fire back. His hand slowly slid between our bodies, grasping my forgotten member, giving it a quick squeeze before slowly jacking me.

"Arrgghh," I breathed and he kissed me again, his hand dancing up and down my sensitive prick.

He didn't waste time with light kisses. Rusty was eye level to my crotch in a flash, the button of his nose rubbing across my smooth skin. I wanted to watch, but the pleasure was so overwhelming, that I crashed backwards onto the pillows.

I was lost; his flat, meaty tongue doing things I didn't think were possible to the sensitive vein that ran along the bottom of my dick. The vice-like grip of his lips held tight to the fleshy tube. His hands even joined in on the fun, alternatively rounding my sack in his fingers, then stroking what couldn't fit into his mouth. It was over in a matter of seconds, much to my dismay.

I wanted him on my dick forever.

My back began to contract, arching my body as my legs went rigid. I erupted in his mouth; any sense of me warning him had fled by that point. When my muscles finally relaxed I slid my leg beneath his body and felt his flaccid dick resting on the arch of my foot. I opened my eyes to the sexiest sight, his head rising off my shaft, a mixture of my cum and his saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth.

My dick gave a final spasm, dribbling out a last hurrah of the milky fluid, which Rusty quickly lapped up on his way back to my lips. He kissed me tenderly, rubbing my spunk over my lips as he did. I opened my mouth and sucked his tongue in before accepting and enjoying the sweet-salty flavor he deposited there.

"Like that?" I whispered before pulling him into a hug.

"Just like that, but a million times better, I didn't think you would go there," he sighed.

"Stupid Shit," I said as I playfully poked him in his side. "You remember who kissed who right?" I teased him as he slid to the bed beside me.


The sun beamed brightly through the blinds on my window, disturbing my slumber by hitting me right in the face. Rusty had wrapped himself over, under and around me; his head nestled comfortably in the crook of my right arm. He was breathing softly, but beginning to stir.

I glanced around the room, my eyes focusing on a pile of clean, folded, bike gear. Next to them were Rusty's clothes, also folded neatly, his shoes lying in front of them, the socks mated inside. Then I noticed a blanket covering us. It was the duvet from the guest bedroom.

"Morning," I heard him whisper from my chest as his short hair brushed against my bare skin.

I looked down at him and smiled slightly, "Dude, I thought you locked the door.


please send all comments to shadowgod
NOTICE: The following story is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and plot-lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. A Shot of Bourbon and its characters, remain the property of the author. The story and/or characters may not be reproduced or republished elsewhere without the strict written consent of the author.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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