Matt Shows Us the Delta 88 by Revitup Man

Michael showed up after a few minutes, and seemed as excited to see me as I was him. After a quick kiss hello we were off. Cruising out of the parking lot and onto the main highway we immediately began to tell each other what had been going on in our lives for the past couple of months. We must've been doing 50 or 55 down the highway when all of a sudden Michael slammed on the brakes and whirled into the gravel parking lot of a tacky insurance agency. "What are you doing?" I asked.

Then I saw it. An ancient Oldsmobile Delta 88 with a for sale sign in the windshield: $300. It appeared to be in terrible shape. No major body damage, but enough rust to cure anemia worldwide. It had also been sitting there for an awful long time. Everything about it was completely filthy. The last inspection sticker was dated October 1993. We got out and took a closer look. The sign said that it was a '73 with a "Rocket 350" engine in it that ran well. Personally I had my doubts (and hopes) about the veracity of that statement.

After looking over the whole thing top to bottom we decided that it was at least worth a phone call to the owner and would hopefully get to check it out closer. We took down the phone number and got back in the car. When we got back to Michael's we made a quick call about the car:

"Yeah it's a great car. I bought the thing brand new just 26 years ago. Raised the whole McMullin family with that thing. Showed them the entire country with it, drove them to a billion freakin' baseball games and ballet recitals. I tried to give it to my youngest son for his high school graduation last year, and the damn kid just stared at me like I was fuckin' nuts. Now it just breaks my goddam heart to see it cast aside like this. Sittin' in the parking lot of my office, worthless like that. Best damn car I ever owned. I'll make Matt get off his lazy ass, he's my youngest you know, and come out and show it to you tomorrow. This is the least the little shit can do, after rejecting me like that. It's been sitting a couple of months, but after it gets warmed up a bit it runs as good as new. You'll be impressed, I know. He'll be there at 10 o'clock."

The next morning Michael and I got up early and hopped on his bike. We didn't want to be late for Matt in case his dad made him come early to get the beast started and running before we got there. Fortunately we got there before him so we could situate ourselves pretty well. We'd brought Michael's video camera to tape the whole startup process from the driver's seat and any smoke that might come out of the tailpipe. We didn't figure Matt would rev too much, but you never knew. Just as we'd started the tape rolling in the back window of Michael's car Matt showed up. Driving a '98 Trans Am he wasn't at all what we'd expected. He was young, but had that intense confidence and cockiness that only the star of the high school football team would have at eighteen.

"Yo! You guys here to look at this piece-a-shit?" he asked as he climbed out of the car.

I, for one, was speechless. He was about six feet tall with messy red hair (he obviously hadn't bothered to take a shower yet today) and had big muscular arms and a broad chest. As he stood there he reached under his t-shirt and scratched his chest and yawned, giving Michael and I a clear view of his washboard stomach.

"Well, let's see if the damn thing will start." He said. And with that he opened the driver's door and plopped down in the seat. "I don't know what Pop sees in this thing, but he's sure that someone wants it. Personally I don't care whether it ever moves again or not."

With that he jammed the key in the ignition and twisted it. The engine cranked sluggishly, and I didn't expect it to start. After a few seconds, though, it suddenly lurched faster and he let off the starter. At the same instant he slammed the gas to the floor and the engine began to chug to life. Thick brown smoke began to puff out of the single exhaust. Matt tried to pump the gas but it stalled immediately. "Come on, you fucker!" he said, and twisted the key again. Again it sounded doubtful, and again it surged to life all of a sudden. This time when Matt pumped the gas the engine responded positively.

He stomped the gas several times, each time pressing harder then the last. Thick smoke came out the tailpipe in big plumes. "Here we go." Matt said. "This fucker may actually run for us today." With that he pushed the huge pedal to the floor and held it there. The engine, not lubricated at all yet, screamed in pain. Thick grey smoke billowed out of the tailpipe as it revved. Matt didn't care though. After several seconds he let up, but then started pumping the pedal like there was no tomorrow. Each thrust of his foot sent another huge plume of smoke into the air. I, for one, was getting very aroused, and I could tell that Michael was too. His eyes were alternating between Matt's pumping sneaker and the thick exhaust pouring out of the tailpipe.

For a couple of minutes after this no one spoke. Matt kept pumping the gas, the exhaust kept billowing, and Michael and I both stared, mesmerized by this show we were watching, neither of us believing what was happening. Gradually though, I became aware of the fact that Michael and I weren't the only ones with hard dicks at this point. Matt's sweat pants had a distinct tent happening to them.

Breaking the reverie that had developed I said, "Sounds like a pretty hot engine. Maybe your dad's right about it."

"Yeah? That old man doesn't know what's what." Matt said, turning to stare at me with some of the coldest blue eyes I'd ever seen. "He thinks I need to get married and crank out babies like him. But it ain't gonna happen cause I don't like him or girls." And with that he kept staring at me and stomped the gas down to the floor.

Not able to contain myself I knelt down in the doorwary next to him and reached up to run my hand through his messy hair. "I know what's what." I said. And with that I undid the drawstring on his pants and leaned forward. Matt let off the gas a little but kept pumping it pretty hard and said, "Yeah. I could tell that you and your friend both knew what was up as soon as I arrived. You know you want my big dick down your throat." And with that he thrust his dick into my mouth as hard as he could and began romping on the gas again and again. The sound of the engine revving for all it was worth was incredible!

Matt continued to pump the hell out of the gas as I took his member deeper and deeper. Next thing I knew, though, I felt Michael crouching on the ground behind me. Reaching around my waist he began unzipping my pants to release my rock-hard dick from the confines of my jeans and underwear. My pants were now down by my knees and I could feel Michael's dick wedged in the crack of my butt, his precum oozing everywhere. I knew I couldn't contain myself much longer, and apparently neither could Matt or Michael. Michael was stroking my coke in rhythm to Matt's pumping and after about 30 seconds I couldn't hold it any longer. Matt floored the gas and held it there causing Michael's cum to squirt all the way up my spine, hitting the nape of my neck, which made me squirt like a madman just as Matt pumped his huge load down my throat.

I could hardly wait to see what the video was like!