Devilish Good Time

Devilish Good Time by J.M. Snyder
Against his better judgment, Jacob goes to a Halloween party on campus where he runs into Bobby, a jock on the crew team he's been eyeing for a while. Problem is, guys like Bobby don't usually go for guys like Jacob.

Once they ditch Bobby's roommate and his girlfriend to find a little quiet time in New Jersey's Pine Barrens, it seems Bobby only has eyes for Jacob. But their tryst is soon interrupted. All those tales and legends about the Jersey Devil are just talk, right?




Bobby shrugs and settles closer to me. "Just relax," he tells me, as if I can turn this tension between us on and off like a switch. "Enjoy the ride."

Is he serious? I stare at him for a moment, trying to read the thoughts behind those dark eyes, but his elusive grin keeps me guessing. My mind whispers, At least try. Tentatively I reach out and touch his knee. He eases back in the seat, spreading his legs out in front of him, and when he doesn't laugh or scare me away, my hand drifts down along the seam of his inner thigh. All of a sudden it has a mind of its own, my fingers curious to see if Bobby's half as hard as I am. I brush over his dick and through his jeans it feels impossibly huge, thick like the muscles in his arms and fully erect. He lifts his hips up to press into my palm and I curve my hand around the outline of his cock through his jeans. With a low growl in the back of his throat, he purrs against my neck, "That's it."

I rub down his length. I can't believe I'm doing this -- getting freaky with a guy I crushed on last semester, can this be happening? Bobby moans into my collar and then kisses my neck, his lips hot and damp. His hand is back in my lap again, blatant this time, his fingers fumbling at my zipper like they want in. He finds the pull and starts to tug it down. I feel his trim nails scrape across the front of my briefs, I'm sure the moment he touches me skin on skin I'll shoot all over the place, he's seconds from my cock and so persistent, when the music cuts off completely and Amber turns around in the front seat to grin at us. "We're in the Barrens," she says.

Bobby covers my open fly with his hand and sighs. "Amber, we're sort of busy here."

"Ryan's driving," she says, as if we don't know, "and since I can't do anything until he pulls over, I'm going to make damn sure you two don't do anything, either." Widening her eyes, she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know who's out here, don't you?"

My blood is singing in my ears, Bobby's rubbing small circles into the front of my briefs, I've got him in hand jeans or not, and I'm not even sure where I am at the moment ... does she honestly expect an answer? Apparently she does, because she slaps Bobby's hand away from my crotch and whines, "Come on, stop it! Listen to me!"

Into my neck, Bobby mumbles, "You stop it." His hand returns to my open fly. "Tell your boy-toy to pull over already. Some of us don't have balls of steel, you know. I can't hold it all night."

She frowns at him and turns her attention to me. "You've heard of the Jersey Devil, right? What's your name again?"

"Jacob," I sigh. I'm surprised how steady my voice sounds, when every other part of me is quivering with anticipation. "Jersey Devils, hockey team, right? Didn't they win the Stanley Cup last year?"

"No," she says, then shrugs. "I don't know, maybe. But I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the Jersey Devil. Living, breathing spawn from hell? Lives in the Pine Barrens? Don't tell me you haven't heard the stories."