Electra-fying by NJBootGuy

 It was Mike’s last year of college, and as a senior about to graduate into the ‘real world’, he was less enthusiastic than one might expect of 21-year-old ready to take on the world. To be sure, college hadn’t always been everything his parents cracked it up to be: though he’d had his share of fun, he’d also had his share of loneliness and isolation.

And so it was Mike found himself wandering rather aimlessly on a quiet day in winter, shuffling through the new-fallen snow just being alone with himself and collecting his thoughts. He always loved how the peaceful quiet of a snowfall could bring him back around.

As he wandered through town, he reveled in the exquisite sense of QUIET that fell over everything. In a town that grew to a population of some 30,000 when college was in session, it had a population of a mere 5,000 when school was out on break, as it was now, and he was glad he’d decided NOT to go home this break.

Looking to boost his spirits, he’d thought about taking the family’s ’73 Chrysler Town & Country wagon out for some pumping and revving fun, but decided against it. Mike’s luck ran toward the bad side with foul weather driving, and the last thing he needed was to rack up the family car. So he set out, bundled in parka, gloves, and jeans tucked down into his favorite 16" engineers boots for a nice walk. There was no one on the streets, either in cars or on foot.

As he wandered off toward the far end of town, he heard the sound of a car being cranked over and over, though it would not start. Mike picked up his pace, thinking perhaps he might get some fun in on this day after all! As he came around the last corner of a dead-end street, he saw what it was that was trying to crank its way to life: a faded green 1972 Buick Electra 225 in the driveway of an old house. He watched from a hidden spot for a few minutes as the driver continued to crank away, trying to get the car to start. Having approached from the left of the house and driveway, he could see that the driver was rather young, very slim, and was wearing a black leather jacket, black leather gloves, and jeans stuffed into knee-height camo leather hunting boots, the left one of which was on the ground outside the open driver’s door. Small wisps of steam came out of the single large down-turned tailpipe on the driver side of the car, but the car clearly was not going to start. The driveway had been cleared, so clearly the kid was trying to get out and go somewhere.

Mike decided to see if he could offer some help and so walked over to the kid. The kid was cute! Long dark blond hair stuck out from the baseball cap the kid was wearing backwards. As Mike approached, the kid looked up, and Mike almost thought he saw a guilty expression on the kid’s face.

"Hey there!" Mike said in greeting. "Not going well today, huh? I’m Mike," he said, as he offered the kid his gloved hand.

"Hey, Mike, nice to meetcha, I’m Robbie," the kid replied, grasping Mike’s hand in firm greeting. "And no, it’s not going well. My parents are out of town for another couple of hours and I was hoping to go out and have some fun in the snow, but the car won’t start."

"Well, if you don’t mind someone tagging along if we can get it started, I was out looking for some fun myself, and having some fun in a big car like this in the snow would sure fit the bill!"

Robbie’s eyes lit up and Mike saw he had a killer smile. "That’d be awesome! Climb in!"

Mike got in on the passenger’s side, and watched as Robbie cranked the key to start. The engine cranked, but gave no sign of starting, though it clearly had a strong battery.

"How much gas have you pumped into it?" Mike asked.

"Probably enough to drain half the tank!" Robbie replied. Mike noticed that Robbie wasn’t pumping the accelerator now, figuring it was well flooded.

"Hold the pedal flat to the floor while you crank it then," Mike suggested, "that should clear out the excess fuel."

Robbie grinned a bit and shoved his boot to the floor, locking his knee and began cranking mercilessly. 10, 15, 20 seconds of continuous cranking and finally the engine wheezed to life. Robbie lifted his boot to half-throttle, and the engine sputtered and shook. Thick black smoke came pouring out the exhaust. Robbie let up a bit more, and the engine tried to die, still shaking, and running rough and rich.

"Hell," Robbie said, "that’s better than I’ve gotten yet, let’s go!" With that, he put the car in reverse and backed out into the street. He drove them to the large back lot of a huge aluminum warehouse building on the edge of town. Mike saw that half the enormous lot had been cleared as was already dry, and the other half was still buried in about eight inches of snow, with about an inch of ice underneath. There were no cars in the parking lot, and being behind the huge building, it was completely isolated from view of the road.

"This is my dad’s warehouse," Robbie replied. "It’s a great place to come when I want to have fun ‘cause I know when people will be here and when they won’t. No one will be anywhere near here today!" Robbie had an evil grin on his face, and Mike suspected he knew exactly what it was that Robbie liked to do for fun. The Electra was still running rough and rich as Robbie shut the engine off, with the car in the clear part of the lot, backed up against the building. Robbie got out, so Mike got out along with him. Robbie went to the hood and opened it, and Mike saw why Robbie liked using the Electra for his fun. A massive 455 cubic inch V8 dwelled in the engine cavity, with a Rochester Quadrajet 4-barrel carburetor. Robbie unscrewed the air cleaner lid and pulled out the filthiest air filter Mike had ever seen.

"Jeeze, Robbie, no wonder the car runs so rough, it can barely breathe!" Mike observed.

Robbie’s grin got bigger and more evil. "Yeah, that’s exactly the reason I put it in there this morning! I keep this one aside for special fun times like this one. See, I really get off on rich exhaust smoke, and this filter helps make it happen, even when I invert the air cleaner lid," which Mike noticed was exactly what Robbie was doing. Mike couldn’t believe his ears! Here was a young hot stud who got off on the same things he did! So he told Robbie that. Robbie’s eyes lit up again, and the evil intent was back with a vengeance. "How MUCH do you like it?" he asked.

Mike replied, "Actually, I’ve always gotten off on the idea of being right near the exhaust pipe when the engine was revving, but was never able to do it alone."

Robbie said, "Well that’ll work, then, ‘cause I’ve always wanted to rev up into some guy’s face!" Mike saw a large bulge building in Robbie’s pants, and his own hard on had long since become a raging erection of steel. "Let’s do it!" Robbie said. With that, he opened the trunk and got out a large rectangular mirror, setting it at an angle on the ground at the rear of the vehicle so he could see what was happening in the driver’s door rearview mirror. Mike quickly scrambled under the car, reclining with his head and back against the building, placing his face maybe 6 feet directly behind the huge tailpipe. Robbie climbed back in and Mike could hear him relentlessly slamming the accelerator to the floor with his heavy, cleated hunting boot. Mike heard Robbie slam the pedal to the floor and hold it as he triggered the key. The engine cranked over and over, and Mike could already begin to smell puffs of rich exhaust while the engine continued to crank. More than 30 seconds of continuous cranking had elapsed and still the car wouldn’t start, so both Mike and Robbie knew that this was going to be a MASSIVE purge of exhaust! Finally after about 45 seconds of cranking, the engine sprang to life. Robbie held the pedal hard to the floor was the engine fired and then began to roar as the rpms built. Mike held his breath and closed his eyes against the incredible onslaught of rich black exhaust that jetted out of the tailpipe into his face. Robbie kept the gas pedal crushed to the floor, his knee locked, his bootcleats making impressions in the carpet. The engine began to scream in pain as the rpms built into the red zone and beyond, and still Robbie kept his boot planted clear to the floor. The exhaust was jetting over Mike with a force he couldn’t have imagined, and he was leaking hard with lust. The exhaust began to change from black to grey as the engine continued to pick up speed. Then Robbie begin pumping the acclerator, revving the big 455 over and over again, clear into the red zone and back again, slamming his boot to the floor repeatedly, as the engine continued to scream and smoke. Robbie was pumping and revving the engine amazingly hard, and Mike was reveling in the rich thick exhaust smoke. The smell of it was intoxicating and Mike began to feel himself getting a kind of high from it. Then Robbie really let the engine have it, holding his boot rammed completely to the floor for 30 seconds at a time, screaming the engine beyond reason, and making fierce black clouds of exhaust pour over Mike.

After about five continuous minutes of the abuse, Robbie backed down and let the engine lope and sputter to a rough idle, and then shut the engine down. Mike got out from under the car, still high from the exhaust injection he’d taken. He wandered up to the driver’s door, wiping the thick black exhaust from his face. He wasn’t surprised to see Robbie pawing his massive cock in one gloved hand. Mike was hard and leaking too, so he rubbed his own throbber.

"That was incredible!" Mike exclaimed. "I never would have thought an engine could handle that much stress!"

Robbie grinned menacingly again. "That was just the warm up! Now we go over to the snow and ice and see how far we can get the speedometer needle to climb!" Mike ran over to the passenger side and got in as Robbie started the Electra again, and then proceeded on to the snow and ice half of the big parking lot. "This is the part I really get off on," Robbie said, "seeing if I can bury this speedometer. I’ve never been able to yet, but I’m gonna keep trying until I do!" Mike noticed the speedometer ran to 120 mph, and figured that would be a tough thing to do, but knew that he and Robbie were both ‘up’ for the challenge. In fact, Robbie had pulled his huge 8.5" cock out of his pants and was beginning to fist it. As he did, he put the big Electra in drive, and stood on the brake with his left boot. He then began to ease the accelerator down toward the floor. The rear tires begin to spin on the snow and ice, and the speedometer needle climbed to 40, then 50 as the car switched to second gear. Robbie continued to press his boot harder and harder, and the speedometer climbed to a maximum of 95 with Robbie’s boot slammed hard on the floor, as the engine began to miss and sputter with the excess of fuel pouring into it. Mike looked out the back window and saw the rich black exhaust pouring out the back of the car. "See what I mean?!" Robbie yelled over the screaming engine. "It never goes above 95!"

Mike signaled for Robbie to keep trying anyway, as he got down on the floorboard and began licking Robbie’s big boot feverishly. Mike could feel Robbie flexing his foot and leg muscles, trying to force the pedal clear through the floor. Finally Robbie let up on the accelerator, clearly frustrated that the car wouldn’t get above 95. Then Mike realized the problem.

"Hey Robbie, you’ve still got that nasty air filter in there to make the smoke with. We’re not underway, so there’s no risk of anything flying into the carb.. why not just pull it out and let the engine really breathe?"

Robbie smacked himself on the forehead. "Jeeze, why didn’t I think of that?! Of course!" Robbie ran out and yanked out the air filter and removed the entire air cleaner assembly, throwing it in the back seat. He climbed into the driver’s seat and said, "First, to clear the exhaust!" He romped on the pedal with the transmission in park and the engine raced freely up to and into the red zone with no hesitation. Thick black and grey exhaust poured furiously out behind the big car as the massive 455 cleared itself of all the excess carbon and fuel build up. Robbie repeatedly hammered the pedal to the floor, holding it there for 40 seconds at a time while the smoke eventually cleared out. When it had, Mike got on his knees on the passenger floorboard and took the head of Robbie’s cock in his mouth. As Robbie pushed his boot down with the transmission still in park, Mike lowered his mouth farther onto Robbie’s cock. When Robbie would let up on the accelerator, Mike would pull back up off Robbie’s cock. Robbie began pumping the pedal faster and faster, and harder and longer as Mike continued to suck Robbie’s cock in the same rhythm as Robbie’s boot pumped the pedal. Robbie could feel his cum building, and Mike’s was too, so Robbie put the shifter in drive, stood on the brake with his left boot and SLAMMED his right boot hard to the floor, just as Mike swallowed his now rampant 9 incher right to the hilt. The transmission quickly shifted from first to second to third as the speedometer needle climbed. Mike held Robbie’s cock deep, milking him with his throat as Robbie yelled out, "100!!! 110!!! 115!!!…." Mike fisted his own cock as he began pumping up and down on Robbie’s throbbing cock. Robbie doubled his effort on the accelerator, crushing it mercilessly to the floor and grinding his heavy cleated sole on it, and screamed, "120!!!!!!!" just as he began cumming in an endless flood into Mike’s sucking throat. Wave after wave of cum spurted from his hard cock as he continued to hold the pedal down hard, Mike milking every drop out of his cock. He came for almost a full minute while the engine continued to scream out its fury and power, and Mike came all over the seat and floor of the car.

Finally, both Robbie and Mike were spent. The Electra had given each of them the most powerful orgasm of their young lives, and was purring quietly and smoothly as they cleaned up and prepared to leave for home.

On the way to Robbie’s house, Robbie grinned at Mike. "That was the best ever, Mike! We’ll have to try to do this again sometime!" Then Mike frowned a bit and told Robbie he would be leaving town soon for good when he graduated. They both rode home a bit bummed, having just found a new revving partner and knowing it wouldn’t last long. When the got to Robbie’s house, they played the message on the answering machine in which Robbie’s parents had called and explained that they now wouldn’t be home for four more days. Robbie looked expectantly at Mike, and Mike, having four more days of break to do NOTHING with, grinned back at Robbie and said, "Maybe I should go back to my apartment and pack a bag??" Robbie grabbed up the keys to the Electra and bolted out the door with Mike right in his wake, ready to have four days of the most intense fun either of them could dream up!