1995

Home : Stories by Mick : 1995

Summary: Junior recalls the first time he ever met Josh.

AUTHOR: Mick
EMAIL: mick@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17, for underage slash and references to drug/alcohol use.
CHARACTER: Dale Earnhardt Jr/Josh Snider, Dale Jr POV
WORD COUNT: 3,587
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them I’d be too busy to write this stuff. Just fiction, folks! I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This came out of left field, folks. I was listening to Nirvana and Unrestricted at the same time and suddenly Junior was demanding this be written. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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1995. It was the year that Pearl Jam topped the charts with Jeremy. It was the year I turned 21. It was also the year I met him. Him, with the goofy lisp and oddball wit that was almost a match for my own. He was about four years younger than me, a junior in high school to my sophomore year in community college. It’d been sometime in the early spring, around April or May when everyone was getting ready for Prom and Junior Prom, when all the parties were in full swing, and the weather was perfect for bonfires in the middle of cornfields.

I’d been racing for a couple years at that point. Started out with a beat up Street Stock car at seventeen and two years after that progressed to Late Models, building myself a car or two to race in the southeast divisions mostly. I ran in Myrtle Beach a lot, ran a couple of tracks around Mooresville and Kannapolis. I was getting better with every race and there’d been talk here and there of maybe even running a couple Busch races for my Daddy when he felt like putting me behind the wheel. A lot of my friends back then were racers, or at least, trying to be. We hung out around the tracks together, partied together, raised a whole lot of hell together.

In that Spring of 1995, I was just finishing up my automotive degree at the local community college, on Daddy’s dime. I worked off the tuition money at one of his dealerships, spending my time changing oil and doing tire rotations, mostly. I was the fastest oil changer they had in that shop and everyone knew I was the boss’ boy so it usually gave me a bit of leeway.  It wasn’t uncommon for me to show up late or cut out a couple minutes early, and on the occasions when Daddy figured it out, he’d whoop my ass and I’d be on time for a week before slacking off again. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to work, it’s just that I liked raisin’ hell more.

At that point, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Racing was fun but I wasn’t sure I had what it took to make it to NASCAR. I wasn’t nowhere near what my Daddy was and honestly, I would have been happy to stay in the shop and change oil for the rest of my life. Maybe one day I’d even open a shop of my own and start my own little business, get myself a wife and have a couple kids. I’d been living in a doublewide with my brother Kerry back then, Daddy’s orders. He wanted us to get to know one another and sticking us in that little tin can was his way of making it happen. We had a lot of good times, me and him, and then he went and got his girlfriend pregnant. He’d moved out and I was left to pay the rent and the utilities on it on my own.

If it weren’t for my sister, Kelley, I probably wouldn’t have had running water and electricity for very long. Kelley was always taking care of me. Lets face it, she still does. She pays my bills for me, she takes care of my company for me, and back then she was always making sure I kept out of trouble. She was always the one running behind me cleaning up all the messes I made. She did her best to make sure I got to school and work every day. She was always helping me with all the little things that most of us neglect and forget about. Like I said, if it weren’t for her I’da been living in the stone age.

Kelley and I were and still are incredibly close. Some people like to poke fun and say crap about us inbreeding, we love one another so much, but it ain’t like that. They just don’t understand what it’s like for us. What it was like not havin’ Momma around and being raised by nannies and a step-mother who woulda been just as happy shipping us off to boarding school in Switzerland while our Daddy was off racing and earning a living. Kelley knows the things about me that I can’t or won’t tell anyone else. She knows all my hopes and dreams, she knows all my fears and vulnerabilities. She knows the stuff I was always too scared to tell Daddy about. She knows about my downfalls and my triumphs. She knows that I might find that “special someone” one day and it might not be a chick.

Far as sex goes, I was never one to discriminate based on very many things. I blame some of it on military school. Sharing a dorm with another guy, showering with guys, dressing with guys, living with them all day every day at such a young age warped my mind. It was after that though, when I went back to public high school, that it occurred to me that I really didn’t prefer one over the other. One day I’d be chasin’ skirts with the guys and the next day I was checking out the guys while they chased the skirts. Of course, growing up where I did, it wasn’t something I was vocal about. I dated a few girls, and I hooked up with a guy or two in secret. Usually it was at a party when we were both “drunk”.

I lost my virginity to a girl when I was close to nineteen, but no one other than Kelley knew that I’d lost my virginity to a guy when I was seventeen. He’d been a senior while I was a junior and we’d been really close friends for a couple years. Every now and then we’d get stoned or drunk and wind up making out or doing other types of things in the privacy of his pickup bed out in the woods somewhere. It’d been going on for almost a month when one day he was flippin’ me over onto all fours and makin’ me howl and scream like a damn bitch in heat. It happened more and more, right up until he graduated and went off to college. I never saw or heard from him again after that but I’ve been told that he’s married with a couple kids now.

Of course, none of that really says much about that fateful spring in 1995 when I met him. I still had a couple friends in high school, even though I’d been out for quite a while, and one of them had mentioned that they were having a party at their place since their parents would be gone for the weekend. I’d promised to make an appearance even though I was really behind on my school work, and I’d been sure to keep it. I’d showed up at close to ten that night and the party was already in full swing. Music was blaring from a location unknown to me, the alcohol was flowing, I could smell the pot leaves burning, and all over the property kids were dancing, necking, and causing all kinds of trouble.

I’d found my friend pretty quickly, getting stoned in the kitchen with a couple of our other buddies. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get me to join in and on my third or forth toke I’d spotted a gorgeous little blonde girl enter the room. She was damn near perfect; curvy in all the right places, hair falling down to the middle of her back, tits big enough to stretch out the baby doll t-shirt she’d been wearing. I’d excused myself from the group, picked up two plastic cups of beer, and weaved my way across the room to where she was walking out a sliding glass door.

Once I’d gotten outside, the cool southern air hit me full force, a stark contrast from the stale air in the kitchen which we’d managed to completely bake out. I could feel the buzz in my head growing, the relaxed feel of the high settling over me. I relished that feeling and slowly made my way over to where the blonde was leaning against the porch railing, watching as a dozen or so kids horsed around, fully clothed, in the in ground pool in the backyard. I’d slid up next to her, sipping nonchalantly on my beer as I offered the other cup to her. She’d taken it with the slightest bit of hesitance and in minutes we were deep in a conversation that I can’t hardly remember.

That was when he showed up. Some stocky jock-looking kid, who didn’t look a day over fifteen. He’d somehow managed to get the blonde’s attention, much to my dismay, and she’d bowed out of our conversation to go greet him. Our eyes had met over his shoulder and it was enough to light a fire inside of me. The cockiness, the challenge…my heart was racing with adrenaline like it did every time I fired up my motor at the start of a race. He knew he’d stolen her away from me and he was throwing down the gauntlet. I was more than willing to play his game. If he wanted a fight, he was going to get one.

It’d gone on all night long. He’d walk off to get them drinks and I’d sweep her back up into a conversation. She’d giggle and flirt and I’d come so damn close to sealing the deal when he’d pop back into the picture and lure her away with a drink or a joint. We were both getting frustrated. This chick was obviously just waiting for the highest bidder and we had more important things at hand to take care of. It was a matter of pride, a matter of who had the biggest set of balls.

It was sometime around one in the morning when we’d made our way down to a rock quarry at the edge of the property. I’d finally managed to get the blonde to myself long enough to convince her we should find somewhere quiet to get to know one another better. By that point she was stumbling drunk and had smoked nearly an entire nickel bag on her own so it wasn’t that hard to make her forget about her other little admirer with his mop of messy brown hair and puppy dog eyes.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t drunk enough to forget about her. He’d seen us walking off when he’d come back out of the house after a bathroom break and snuck down after us, popping up just as I was about to get the chick’s shirt off. I was beyond pissed at that point. I was ready to throw some punches when the girl passed out on the rocks. There I was with a raging hard on, a drunk chick, and a guy who’d gotten so far under my skin there was no getting him out. It was only when the girl started to drunkenly talk in her sleep about dancing mushrooms that we finally gave up and started laughing. He’d suggested going back to the house for some more beer and I’d agreed.

On the way back, we laughed and joked about the evening as if we were lifelong pals. We got back to the house and drank and smoked some more, spent another hour or so on the couch in the living room getting to know one another. His name was Josh, he told me, and he was going on seventeen. He was a junior, on the football team, had a couple of brothers running around, and it turned out we had a few friends in common. What really got to me though, were his eyes. Gone was the hostile challenge of a teenage boy looking to get laid, and in its wake was nothing but a depth I kept finding myself getting lost in. There was more to the kid than what I was seeing and I wanted to find out what.

I’m not sure what finally started the flirtations between us. Don’t know if it was the alcohol, the high, or the fact that we were both still horny as fuck from messing with the blonde we’d left behind in the quarry. All I know is that we slowly inched closer and closer together, our hands started roaming over one another’s bodies, and the tension was getting thicker by the minute. It started with a hand on a shoulder, a poke here, an elbow there, until finally…finally he was practically in my lap and my hand was between his thighs.

A lamp crashing across the room had pulled me back to reality and I’d jumped so high I almost hit the ceiling. He’d had a deer-in-headlights look on his face that must have matched my own expression and my instincts quickly took over. I pushed myself up from the couch and took him by the wrist in an iron grip that he couldn’t have broke if he wanted to and I dragged him upstairs to an empty bathroom. The door was barely closed all the way before we came crashing together.

Before that night, I’d never been the aggressor with a guy. Usually I was the one on the receiving end, the one following the leader. With Josh, it was the exact opposite. I knew what I wanted and I went after it full force. Pinned him against the door and kissed him good and hard. My hands were all over him; under his shirt, across his chest and stomach, running over the front of his jeans. He was already hard and I marveled at the way he felt cupped in my hand through the heavy denim.

It’s not something I usually woulda done, but that night I couldn’t stop myself. I dropped down to my knees and unfastened his belt, then undid his jeans, tugging them and his boxers down to his ankles. I’d swallowed hard at the sight of him, the way his hard cock jutted out at full salute before me, the head already a deep shade of red and dripping with precum. Shit, it didn’t take much at all to get him all riled up.

I won’t lie. I’m not very good at giving head. I’m not really even a fan of having a dick in my mouth and that night was no exception. Pure lust had taken over and my body was on autopilot. It was his moans and whimpers that kept me going. It was his fingers in my hair, tugging at it and scratching at my scalp. It was the way he breathed my name and begged me to make him come. His scent was intoxicating, and to my surprise he didn’t taste half bad. Usually my main instinct was to gag and pull back in disgust, but Josh had me wanting to taste every drop he had to offer.

When I’d gotten back to my feet, Josh pounced on me, kissing me long and hard as he fumbled with my wranglers. We pulled apart to get our shirts off and before he had a chance to make a move, I flipped him around and bent him over the sink. I grinded the length of my cock against his ass, loving all the noise he was making. He kept up like he was and I was going to have one hell of a time fucking him.

Unfortunately, I had a condom on me that night but no lube. I knew from personal experience that not using any hurt like a bitch and I didn’t want to hurt him. Especially after our eyes met in the mirror and he asked me to take it easy, told me it was his first time. I’d looked around the bathroom for something- ANY thing -that would work when a bottle of lotion caught my eye. It was some girly crap, flowers or fruit or something, but in a pinch it was gonna have to work. I’d laughed as he yelled at me not to touch him with the stuff, but the moment one slicked up finger entered him, he was singing a different tune.

I still remember every detail of that night. I can remember what it felt like the first time my cock pushed into his tight virgin ass. How he hissed in pain and gripped the edge of the sink. Can see his eyes burning into mine through the mirror. I remember the feel of his body pressed against mine and how he pushed himself back into every thrust. The way his neck tasted as I bit and sucked at the tender flesh there. How silky-soft his cock felt in my hand as I jerked him off in synch with my hips bucking against him. His moans and whimpers. How thick his accent got as he drawled out my name while he was coming.

Mostly, what I remember about that night is the overwhelming feeling of territorialism that washed over me. I’d never been the one on top, so to speak, and I’d certainly never deflowered a man before. The way he was leaning back against me heavily with a spent, sated look on his face, the way he gripped the back of my neck tightly long after he’d come, the look in his eyes when our gazes met again…it all made me want to protect him, to keep him all for myself. I didn’t want anyone else ever touching him or having him like I just did. I wanted him to be mine. He WAS mine. From that moment on, I’d make damn sure no one else ever got near him.

That night was the beginning of a friendship that would blossom into the most amazing relationship of my life. We were inseparable after that party. For the rest of his school year, I would drop him off in the morning and pick him up at the end of the day. I got him a job at the dealership with me, a stint that lasted less than a month because back then he was lazier than I was and went through what seemed like a job a week. On the weekends we would hang out and get drunk. After he graduated he moved in with me while he was attending college. We tore that doublewide apart, in more ways than one. Whether it was getting rowdy with our growing group of friends, or just us going at it from one end of the thing to the other, there was always a door coming unhinged or a hole being put in a wall.

We went through it all together. We had girlfriends and one night stands. We partied. We worked together. We lived together. We traveled together. He became a part of my family and I became a part of his. We’d never officially deemed ourselves a couple or anything like that, but there was this unspoken agreement that no matter what happened, no matter who we fucked or dated, we’d always come back to one another in the end.

Josh is my one constant in life aside from Kelley, and as I look at him sitting next to me in what used to be my office in the old JR Motorsports building, I can’t help but feel that same territorialism washing over me. Snooter’s my best friend. He’s the one person I can go to for any and every little thing. He knows all my darkest secrets and I know all of his. We’ve been through hell and back together and it’s part of the reason why I wanted him to be here with me, a part of this radio show I somehow got talked into hosting a couple years ago. It definitely wouldn’t have been the same without him. And if I’m being entirely honest, it’s also a way for me to get to spend just a little more time with him during the week. With the hours he works and the time I spend away during the season, it’s the only way I know how to guarantee we’ll always see one another no matter how busy we are.

“Hey…does anyone else smell flowers? Like…fragrance or something?”

I sneak a glance at Josh at my seemingly entirely random question and smirk when I see the look on his face. Ever since that night, it’s become a private joke between us. The mention of flowers and fragrance always brings us right back to that night, to that cramped little bathroom. He shoots me a smoldering look that raises my temperature and sends my heartbeat soaring, and I can’t help but wonder if Steve and Mitch can feel the tension between us as we share a secretive moment across the table from them.

Mitch makes a crack about me smoking too many “flowers” and I grin, just barely able to hide the pleasant surprise of feeling Josh’s hand squeezing my thigh under the table. That one little gesture is all I need to know that that night back in the Spring of ‘95 is as deeply etched into his memory as it is in mine. Suddenly, I can’t wait for this recording to wrap up for the night so we can head back to my place and recall it properly.

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Mick - mick@cryptoffic.com