They grimly nodded, their mouths set and eyes slitted. The FedEx guy in his blue uniform, Ron. The UPS guy in his brown uniform, Don. The streets were where their war was waged, individual battles won and lost.
Ron revved the engine of his big blue truck at the intersection, in the outside lane. Don revved the engine of his reconditioned brown truck, in the inside lane. There was one lone truck-sized parking spot down the street, in front of the corporate office building. The men’s routes often intersected, their paths often crossed. And just as often, there was hell to pay, along with packages to sign for.
The light on the cross-street turned yellow. The men popped their clutches, the two trucks humping forward. The light opposite flashed green, and they were off, tyres squealing, motors whining, men gripping steering wheels with deathly determination.
The big, blue-eyed blond in the inside lane had the advantage. His truck leapt forward and roared down the street. But just as he was surging close to the vacant parking spot, a thin, cruel smile of triumph on his plush red lips, an elderly woman suddenly popped out from between two parked cars, fumbling in her oversized purse for the keys to the giant silver Caddy she called “wheels”.
Don cursed and stomped on the brake, the old lady wandering way too far out into the street. Ron grinned, showing bright white teeth, his rugged, dark face beaming victory. The muscle man sailed on by Don’s stalled truck, swerved his truck into the empty spot, skidding to a stop right in front of the building.
He jumped out of his vehicle and doffed his peaked blue cap, shaven head gleaming in the morning sunlight – a salute of victory at his still idling foe.
But that was just one skirmish. The battle was joined again in the lobby of the skyscraper.
There were only two functioning elevators that morning, the other four shut down for servicing. One of the working elevators was halfway up the building, slowly making its way further upward, before slowly making its way back down. The other functioning lift was open at the lobby, jam-packed with people impatiently waiting to rise.
Ron tucked the package destined for the law firm on the 30th floor under his beefy arm and pushed his way aboard the elevator. The big man’s satisfied grin slowly faded to black, however, when the elevator doors remained open – too long.
Don slid to a stop in front of the open elevator, quads bunching impressively above and below the short-line as he skidded to a stop. He saw Ron. His handsome, sunbrowned mug split with an evil grin. Ron furiously pumped the “close door” button, and the doors started to slide shut.
Don thrust a meaty hand in between, easily bouncing the doors back to the open. Some of the sardined people groaned. Ron silently swore. As Don shouldered his way into the car, shoved out a spot for himself and his 40th-floor dental package. ‘Thanks for holding it for me,’ he rasped at Ron.
The doors started to slide closed again. That’s when Don drew a big arm back, elbowing fellow travellers out of the way, and smacked the box tucked under Ron’s left arm. The package flew out of the elevator and slid ten feet across the polished marble floor of the lobby.
Ron instinctively leapt out of the lift, after the box, trained perhaps too well in total customer package care. Because by the time he reached the box, the elevator doors were sliding shut for good, no one to stop them now.
‘Going down?’ Don taunted, just before the doors shut in his grinning face.
They met at the mall down the street shortly thereafter, Round 3. Don was studying the big board listing of all the stores, looking for the china shop that was expecting the box marked “fragile” at his feet. Just as Ron wheeled his handcart through the entrance doors, and spotted his enemy, inaction.
Ron quickened his pace, marching forward, black boots tattooing the shining mall tiles to a military beat, bearing down on the unsuspecting big man in the tight brown tunic and shorts.
His handcart was pushed out in front of him, heavily laden with packages for the gym outfitter on the second floor. He pretended not to see his competitor, glancing at the candy store across the aisle, barrelling towards Don’s booted foot curled protectively around the “fragile” package.
Ron’s handcart rolled over Don’s foot and crashed into the package. The cart wheels crushed the box, went over, to the sound of crunching china.
‘What the –?’ Don yelped.
But the damage had been done, pissed-off dispatcher, customer and insurance company guaranteed.
‘Sorry, man. Didn’t see you standing around there,’ Ron said, steamrolling forward into the mall.
Don stared down at the flattened package, glared up at the broad, muscular back and big, clenching buttocks of the grinning man in the enemy blue uniform. Hand-to-hand combat was out of the question in such a public place, even Don’s overheated brain realised that. So the man was left to pick up the pieces. And look grimly forward to the next rolling route engagement.
It came not one hour later. Don spotted the blunt white nose of a truck poking out of an alley next to a food preparation plant and warehouse. He instantly yanked the steering wheel of his truck over to the kerb lane, cutting off a handi-transit bus. He barrelled down the street towards that obnoxious white snout.
Ron saw him, tried to bust out of the alley and onto the street. But the traffic was too thick, moving too fast. One of the fastest moving vehicles was the brown UPS truck, closing rapidly.
Don slammed on the brakes, fishtailing his truck to a stop broadside in front of Ron’s truck, blocking the exit out onto the street. He jumped out, package tucked under his arm. ‘I’m taking this one for a walk!’ he yelled at the glaring man behind the wheel of the FedEx truck. ‘Twenty blocks or so! Then I’m breaking for lunch!’ He saluted briskly. ‘See you in a long while!’
Ron glanced at his side mirror, confirming what he already knew – the alley only had the one opening; it ended at the loading dock of the food warehouse. He hooked his head out of the truck and bellowed, ‘Hey, I’ve got perishable hospital meals here!’
‘Bon appétit!’ Don jeered, striding down the sidewalk.
That tore it. Ron jumped out of his truck in a rage and ran after the big blond in the brown uniform. The men met head on, hand to hand, Don dropping his package just as Ron rumbled into his arms. They grappled, wrestled, danced whirling back into the alley, bouncing off the side of Ron’s truck and in behind.
They were evenly matched. Neither could gain an advantage. Ron tore Don’s tunic down the middle, buttons exploding against the alley walls, exposing the man’s heaving, mounded, blond-dusted pecs. Don ripped the short sleeves right off Ron’s tunic with a powerful, two-handed, cloth-rending tug, exposing the other man’s massive, muscle-striated shoulders.
The combat moved lower, each man battling for position. Don tore Ron’s blue shorts open at the back, right down the seam. Revealing Ron’s huge, rounded buttocks, the fact he’d gone (appropriately) commando that morning. While Ron retaliated by diving his hands into Don’s waistband and ripping the man’s shorts apart at the front like a strongman tearing a phone book in two. Don’s cock was exposed, dangling from a nest of blond pubes, quite clearly swollen with the excitement of the mano-a-mano combat.
The men gasped for air, clinging to one another’s tattered uniforms, shuffling around like a pair of dancing bears. Until, finally, Ron offered up between gulps, ‘Maybe – maybe this has gone far enough. We’re hurting our customers, man.’
Don bounced his head up and down, his open mouth desperately sucking air. ‘Yeah, m – maybe,’ he allowed. ‘We have some of the same customers, after all.’ He looked at Ron’s smooth, dark, muscle-humped chest, down at his own bare chest and dick. ‘We’re really all the same, you know, under the uniforms.’
Ron looked at Don’s cock also. The tan appendage was rising up higher, sniffing at the heated air, smooth shaft and curved cap expanding. Ron grinned, shrugged Don’s loosened hands off his shoulders and grabbed on to them, planted them in behind him, on his own bare buttocks. Then he curled thick, black fingers around Don’s cock, lifted the throbbing appendage and pumped it in an unmistakeable peace gesture.
The battle was turned. The combatants embraced, meeting at the mouths. They kissed heavily, hungrily, their thick lips mashing together, sealing victory for both. Ron fisted Don’s dick. Don plied Ron’s buttocks.
Ron’s neon-pink tongue broke through Don’s lips and into the man’s mouth. Don groaned, tangling his silver-tinted tongue with Ron’s wet, budded licker.
Their tongues, their hands on one another, flooded both of them with a heat even greater than that of mutual, maniacal assault. Don’s cock poled out throbbingly huge in Ron’s shifting fist, raging with sensation. Ron’s bodacious booty shimmered with feeling, thanks to Don’s kneading hands.
The men stood in the alley as one, joined at the swirling tongues, and clutched cock and buttocks, speaking the same language of lust. Until Ron pulled his head back and his tongue away, dropped both down to Don’s chest. He cupped and squeezed a popping pec with his free hand, slapped a stiffened nipple with his free tongue. Still tugging on Don’s pipe with his other hand.
Don moaned, and cracked Ron’s ass open with his fingers. He delved his strong digits deep down Ron’s rugged ass walls, scraping butt cleavage with his blunt nails. Then he plunged two fingers of his right hand right against Ron’s crack, hitting pucker with the rounded tips. Ron’s cleavage was sweaty from the battle. Don used it to help worm those two fingertips into Ron’s starfish, shoot the two digits three knuckles deep inside Ron’s chute.
Ron moaned, pouring hot, humid breath all over Don’s chest, the man’s spit-slickened nipples. He closed his mouth over one of Don’s rubbery buds and sucked on it. Bobbed his head over to the other engorged nipple and wantonly mouthed that one as he yanked the man’s chain, feeling Don’s fingers delightfully wriggle around in his anus.
Bubblewrap was broken out from the back of Ron’s truck, laid down on the alley floor. Then the two brawny men, facing each other’s cocks, in the sweet 69 position. Ron was on top. He took up Don’s dong again and pumped it, then popped the cap in his wet pink mouth and sucked on it.
Don shivered beneath him. He gripped Ron’s dangling horse cock, fisted its blue-black, vein-ribboned length, getting an even better feel for the man. Then he opened his mouth and inhaled the purple cap, sunk three-quarters of the bloated shaft into his cauldron of a maw and sucked, getting a good taste for the man.
Ron groaned from around Don’s cock. Then he dropped his head down, his lips and throat stretching to accommodate Don’s tool. He sucked in frenzied rhythm to Don’s sucking, the men blowing each other long and hard and tight and deep. Until hot, salty precome bubbled into both of their fast-tugging mouths.
Don got up on his knees, in behind Ron. The lube came out of Ron’s hanging back pocket. Don greased his cock even more, bathed Ron’s crack with the lube. Then he ripped away the remainder of Ron’s shorts and shoved his gleaming cap in between Ron’s gleaming cheeks; nothing left to identify them as enemies, only lovers. Don squished his hood through Ron’s ass ring and poured his entire length of cock into Ron’s anus.
The man on his knees and the man on all fours groaned together, joined at the cock and ass. Don gripped Ron’s hips and moved his own, slowly pumping his pipe back and forth in Ron’s red-hot anus. He moved faster, thrusting harder, his muscled thighs smacking against Ron’s taut rounded butt cheeks, cock churning chute with an awesome intensity.
Then it was Ron’s turn to bury the hatchet; his cock symbolising said tomahawk. He teased Don’s shiny pink pucker with the equally lube-shiny tip of his dark dong. Don bucked, bleated, when Ron drove his cap through the man’s ring and stormed his shaft down his rear entrance, filling Don utterly from behind. Ron gripped, ripped, hammering in and out of Don’s heated vice of a butt tunnel. The hot, damp smacking of flesh echoed up and down the alley, along with manly grunts and groans, cock cleaving rump with reckless abandon.
Not too reckless, though, to blow off any balls.
The two men met face to face, cock to cock, sitting on their butts on the bubblewrap in front of one another, legs draped over each other’s legs, cocks clenched together in their fists. This peace treaty was going to be signed in sperm, right in front of the two former combatants.
Ron pumped the upper halves of the two clenched dicks, shifting his hand up and down the combined meat, fingers swirling around the mushroomed caps. While Don pumped the lower halves, moving his gripping fist rapidly, bouncing off the squished-together balls and back up thick, thick shaft again, only occasionally bumping into Ron’s hand.
It was a well-oiled dong-pistoning sexual machine, the two men kissing, frenching, sucking on each other’s tongues. As their flying hands pulled their clutched cocks closer and closer to the edge of all-out ecstasy. The two big dicks beat against one another, shaft on shaft and cap against cap, gleaming with lube, getting stretched up and out almost by the roots, balls boiling together.
Ron tweaked Don’s nipple. Don twisted Ron’s nipple. Their hands blurred, moving so fast, pumping so hard.
‘Fuck! Yes!’ they hollered as one, jerking, jumping, jetting.
Sperm sprayed out of their slits, up high into the air, hot-rained back down onto their tugging hands and spurting cocks. The alley echoed with their bellows of ecstasy, the men pulling pure joy out of their joined dicks in great, geysering gushes.
The truce lasted the rest of the day. The next day, outfitted in another of their five identical uniforms each, Ron in his blues, Don in his browns, they were back at it.
Don bumped Ron out of his paid-for parking meter spot and into an expired one with a not-so-gentle nudge from his front fender, cinching a ticket for the guy during lunch. While Ron retaliated with a well-placed brown tack left on the front seat of Don’s open truck.
They were back to regular business, but battling just with themselves, no customers getting hurt in the crossfire any more. And every now and then the fire would turn downright friendly, the two hardened road warriors fucking and sucking each other for a fearsome good time, uniforms abandoned.