The Model T pick-up swung off the dusty highway and rattled over the hard-packed ground, lurched to a stop at the gas pump.
‘Wanna stretch your legs some?’ the driver asked the man seated next to him.
Chester looked through the cracked windscreen, at the ‘Man Wanted’ sign in the flyblown restaurant window. ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘I think this is the end of the line for me.’
He jumped out of the truck and waved at the old man in thanks. A plump, redheaded girl in overalls barged out the screen door of the roadside restaurant and bounced up to the driver side. ‘What’ll it be?’ she asked.
Chester went inside. It wasn’t much of an eatery – five unpolished enamel-topped tables, six chewed-up stools fronting a chipped Formica counter, and a tiny kitchen visible out back through the sliding panels of a small service opening in the greasy wall.
It was even hotter inside than out, the Arizona high summer sun beating down relentlessly on the tin roof of the dilapidated building. There was no one around. Chester liked the emptiness, the loneliness, the desolation of the place and the surrounding land; this was about as far off the beaten track as a man could get.
He plucked the cardboard “Man Wanted” sign out of the window and tucked it under his arm, wandered through the swinging door that led into the kitchen and on out of the screen door at the back. And found someone.
A tall, lean, leather-hided guy was washing a car behind the garage attached to the restaurant, slopping soapy water out of a bucket and across the hood of a tan ’29 Ford sport coupe. He was wearing nothing but his thin blue shorts, and his brown body shone under the hot sun, slick with sweat and water, his shorts just about soaked through.
Chester watched him give the car a rubdown, the wiry muscles on the man’s back and shoulders tightening and glistening, slim butt cheeks swishing back and forth under the clinging shorts. Chester’s throat went drier than the arid land all around, staring at those shivering, outlined buttocks. He licked his thick, red lips, the heat really getting to him now.
The man dropped his rag into the bucket and stretched his long torso, his plastered butt cheeks clenching deliciously. Then he seemed to sense Chester’s keen presence on the stoop, and spun around.
‘Hiya,’ Chester croaked. He held up the sign. ‘I’m your man – if you want me.’
The guy swung an arm up to shield his eyes, and took a good, long look at Chester. ‘Know anything about cooking, or cars, or running a counter?’
‘All of the above,’ Chester responded, his soft blue eyes drifting down the man’s lean, bronze chest and flat stomach, to where those shorts rode so low on his narrow hips. His cock was clearly outlined against the thin, wet cotton – long and hard like the rest of him – and Chester thought, this just might be the place to cool my heels for a while.
Or so he fervently hoped.
* * *
The guy’s name was Russell, the plump redhead was his niece. She hauled her packed suitcase and fat ass out to the bus stop, headed for the starlights of Los Angeles, as soon as Chester was hired. And he went to work, pumping gas and water for the few parched vehicles that ground to a halt in front of the pumps, serving up hot food and cold drinks to the even fewer hungry and thirsty travellers who ventured inside the restaurant.
Russell was the cook and the mechanic. When he wasn’t roaring off into the dark night in his souped-up car for parts and purposes unknown. That’s when Chester took on all jobs. He slept on a cot in the store room, while Russell occupied the small white bungalow that stood to one side of the restaurant.
Everything went nice and easy, smooth, for about a week or so. When two men in shabby, dusty suits drove up in a shabby, dusty Chevrolet and started asking Russell questions about a certain fellow in his mid 30s with blue eyes and black hair parted down the middle, medium-height and medium-weight, that they were looking for.
Chester just happened to be in the kitchen at the time, bent down out of sight stocking the bottom cupboards. While Russell had his elbows up on the service counter, jawing with the men through the open sliding panels in the wall. ‘What’s the guy’s name?’ he asked.
‘You seen him or not!?’ the big bruiser with the blackened eye snarled.
The other man – sharp-faced and small, with a shock of white hair – put a restraining hand on the big man’s arm. ‘Chester Kandler,’ he said calmly. ‘Although, that’s probably not the handle he’s travelling under.’ The man glanced around at the empty room, confided, ‘See, he’s wanted for knocking over a payroll in Colorado, and now he’s skipped bail. We’re, uh, working for the bonding company – to bring him back.’
Russell’s shrewd, brown eyes took in every detail of the two men. He’d seen their kind before, plenty of times – men who didn’t like working for a living. ‘You think he came through here, huh?’
‘Yeah, we think he come through here!’ the bruiser growled. ‘You seen the bum or not?’
‘We’d appreciate any help you could give us,’ the little man added quickly. ‘There’d be something in it for you, too.’
‘That right?’ Russell mused, glancing down at where Chester was crouched, hardly breathing. ‘A guy can always use some jack. Time’s being so hard and all. How much money’d he get away with, anyway?’
‘The bum stole it all!’ the bruiser blurted. ‘Fifty grand!’
The little man’s dirty fingernails bit into the other man’s arm so hard the bruiser winced. ‘What my friend meant is that bail was set at fifty thousand.’ He grinned tobacco-stained teeth at Russell. ‘The stolen money was all recovered, you see.’ He licked his thin lips. ‘So, uh, have you seen the man we’ve described, or not?’
Chester inched closer to Russell’s long legs, his back to the cupboards now, sweat bathing his baby face.
‘Yodel that description one more time,’ Russell said. ‘Guy sounds sorta familiar.’
Chester swallowed, and shot his right hand up Russell’s right leg, the small, pale, delicate hand riding up along the man’s inner thigh and landing warm and soft on the man’s crotch, on that seemingly always half-erect cock. Russell grunted, coughed, pretending to listen to the little white-haired guy running down Chester’s description again, his cock instantly swelling to life under the hidden man’s caressing hand.
Chester’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide, as Russell’s cock grew and grew in his stroking hand, filling the front of the man’s threadbare jeans right up to the waistline, thick and long and pulsing like an electric cable. Chester’s precarious predicament was forgotten for the moment, as he marvelled at the mammoth appendage, revelled in the ribbed, throbbing feel of it through the faded denim. He clutched, and pumped.
Russell’s legs trembled, his voice cracking when he finally replied, ‘Know what? There was a guy like that – stopped in with a trucker a week or so back.’
The bruiser and the little man leaned forward over the lunch counter. ‘Yeah!?’ they rasped.
‘Yeah, um …’
Chester furiously pistoned Russell’s monster cock, gripping the man’s heavy balls with his other hand and squeezing. Russell’s legs started to vibrate, his third leg solidifying hard as iron against Chester’s flying palm.
Then Russell grunted, full-body shuddered, a dark stain suddenly appearing at the top of his jeans, the bottom of his blue shirt, and rapidly spreading. As Chester urgently, anxiously pumped the man’s surging, spurting cock, squeezed every ounce out of his plum-sized balls.
‘Yeah!’ Russell exclaimed, his face flushing red under his tan. ‘Yeah! There was a guy like that. Got back on the truck after taking a leak and they drove off. Headed for Texas, I think – the trucker was in the pipe-laying business.’
The two men spun around and raced for the door.
Russell watched them speed off in a cloud of dust, tingling all over, shuddering again when Chester gave his cock a final firm, warm squeeze of thanks.
Chester couldn’t quite peg the guy. Russell didn’t say anything to him the rest of that day, and halfway through the next. And he wasn’t sure what, if anything, to say, or what to do.
He could hit the bricks again; but if the guys he’d pulled the heist with, Whitey Fleming and Dumbo Dombrowski, were really off on a wild goose chase down south, then right here just might be the safest place for him. So long as Russell didn’t believe that he actually had any of that payroll loot that had gone up in flames when the cops drove him off the road on his way to the rendezvous point to divvy things up with the boys. Or Russell didn’t get an even worse idea – like turning him into the authorities. And what if the boys came back and found him here, found that Russell had deliberately given them the bum steer? That would be the end of both of them.
Chester polished a malt glass at the lunch counter, staring absently out the restaurant’s front window at the lonely highway, thinking maybe taking a powder was the best bet, after all – for all concerned.
It was another blistering, cloudless day, the temperature outside 110, inside: 120. Sweat plastered his white shirt to his body, his face shiny with the stuff. He was really feeling the heat now.
‘Business is deader than that possum out on the road, huh?’
Chester almost dropped the glass. He looked around through the open service counter at Russell in the kitchen. ‘Uh, yeah, it’s quiet enough to hear a confession in here.’
‘Think I’ll grab a cold one.’ Russell pushed through the swinging door and slipped in behind the lunch counter.
It was a tight squeeze. And he never made it all the way to the small ice chest of Cokes just to the right of where Chester was standing. Because as he went to go by, the front of his jeans brushed over the back of Chester’s pants, over the man’s firm, mounded buttocks. And his cock lodged in between.
Chester stiffened, feeling Russell’s heavy prick pressing into and filling his crack, the provocative butt cleavage that was outlined and valleyed by the tight, white, cotton pants he was wearing. Feeling Russell’s hot body so close, the man’s musky cologne filling his nostrils and dizzying his head. He held his breath, sweat trickling down his forehead and stinging his eyes, the glass shaking in his trembling hands – waiting for Russell to move on by … or stay and play.
And then he felt it: Russell’s cock growing, hardening where it’d become trapped. He softly moaned, and gently pushed back, pressing his plump cheeks into Russell’s hard thighs, enveloping the man’s delightfully swelling cock. As Russell pushed forward, sandwiching his sledge of a dick deeper in between Chester’s buttocks.
A thrill shot through both men, jolting them together, the heat stifling, the accommodation crowded, but not crowded enough. Chester arched his back, and Russell grabbed onto him and pulled him even closer.
He clutched Chester’s heaving chest, fingered stiff nipples through thin, white cotton, breathing down the guy’s neck and rocking his hips, grinding his slab of meat into Chester’s cushiony crack. As Chester moaned and leaned his head back on the man’s shoulder, undulating his ass, massaging that thunder cock to its full size and strength, where it pressed pulsatingly in between his tingling buttocks.
He gasped, ‘I … I just want to tell you that …’
‘Don’t tell me nothin’!’ Russell hissed into his reddened ear. ‘I don’t wanna hear it.’
He grabbed Chester’s shirt and tore it open, buttons bursting, rattling against the counter and down onto the tiled floor. Then he bit into Chester’s slender, white neck, pumping his cock against Chester’s well-formed ass, hands grasping and squeezing bare, furry pecs, fingers pinching and rolling exposed, pink nipples. Chester closed his eyes and groaned, fully giving himself up to the man, his body gone molten, cock a length of poured steel in his pants; cares melted away.
It became too hot, incendiary. So the clothes had to go, the two men tearing them off their bodies and flinging them aside. Until they stood brazenly, blazingly naked in the exact same position where the raging inferno had begun – Russell’s bared, beating dong pressing urgently in between Chester’s bare, quivering cheeks; the obscene pair facing the front window that looked out onto the asphalt ribbon and the endless land and seeing nothing but each other.
‘I’m gonna fuck you!’ Russell growled, roaming a hand down from Chester’s stomach and grabbing onto the man’s jutting pink cock. Sucking on Chester’s earlobe, furiously frotting.
‘Then fuck me!’ Chester cried, gyrating his ass, churning his throbbing cock in Russell’s hot, slick, gripping hand.
Russell swirled his tongue around in Chester’s ear, and Chester twisted his head around and the men’s lips met in a passionate embrace, tongues entwining wildly. As a water truck rumbled by on the highway out front, neither man noticing or caring. Everything out in the open now.
They hungrily kissed and frenched and fondled, their overheated bodies glued together, bathed in sweet sweat. Russell urgently cheek-fucking Chester until his flapping balls boiled with semen; Chester’s nut sack tightening up with glorious anticipation thanks to Russell’s tugging hand on his cock. But they both wanted more, knew they could get so much more from each other.
So Chester broke loose and bent forward, grabbing onto the lunch counter. As Russell scooped butter out of a dish and basted his meat, smeared Chester’s crack; then slid two fingers into Chester’s asshole. The bent-over man cried out with joy, with the wonderful, wanton feel of the other man’s long fingers moving around in his ass. Russell revelling in the hot, tight, sucking grip of Chester’s anus.
Fingers were quickly replaced with cockhead – huge, gleaming, mushroomed hood that had to be bodily forced into the tight opening, both men gritting their teeth and grunting. Russell gripped his greasy dong at the base and relentlessly pushed forward, Chester clawing at the countertop and pushing ass-backwards. Until bloated cap punched through elastic butt ring and squeezed into widened chute – followed by miles and miles of thick, hard, pulsating shaft.
Russell grasped Chester’s waist with whitened knuckles and drove his hips forward, spearing his entire enormous cock into the other man’s awesomely swallowing ass. Until balls kissed cheeks and the two men were one, buried in lust together. They held the superheated, super-sensual moment, a car flashing past the restaurant windows and not seeing the glisteningly naked bodies erotically joined at the cock and ass inside.
Russell rocked his hips, slowly sliding his snake back and forth in Chester’s stretched-out chute. Then he let out a grunt and picked up the pace, pistoning his hips, slamming Chester’s ass, drilling the man with the biggest, longest cock he’d ever had shoved up his anus. Chester moaned with pleasure and triumph, the plunging, stuffing, prostate-bumping sensation exquisite, Russell’s monster cock cleaving him clear to the sexual core.
The men’s grunts and groans, the wet, rapid smack of taut thighs against shuddering cheeks, the sucking sound of shaft reaming chute, filled the oven-hot air. Salt and pepper shakers and napkin holders rattled atop the counter with each savage thrust, Russell going deeper, longer, harder, his own flexing ass knocking aside coffee cups on the backstroke. He torqued it up to frenzy-level, Chester screaming encouragement, a carload of family turning off the highway and into the parking lot, then speeding off and away again.
Russell’s cock flew in and out of Chester’s asshole, Chester rocking crazily back and forth with the force and fury of the most brutal ass-fucking he’d ever dreamed of. He tore a hand off the counter and corralled his own flapping appendage, and desperately fisted, his plundered butt gone buzzingly numb as Russell’s frantically pounding pole.
The two men cried out in unison, jolted together by pure, white-hot bolts of ecstasy. Sizzling sperm jetted out of Chester’s hand-cranked cock, his body and brain on fire, ravaged asshole the blazing epicentre. As Russell’s butt-buried cock exploded, blasted searing semen, blowing Chester’s ass apart to the ultimate unbridled joy of the both of them.
When the bucking and bellowing and spurting at last abated, Russell draped his drained body over Chester’s steaming torso, and gasped, ‘You … you don’t have ta worry about me turnin’ you in. To the hoods or the cops.’
Chester smiled weakly. ‘And you don’t have to worry about me turning you in, either,’ he sighed. ‘For running that bootleg liquor I found in the rumble seat of your pepped-up Ford.’
They looked at each other. Then laughed, and kissed, sealing the deal. Russell gently undulated his spent cock in Chester’s ass, as Chester gently undulated his flushed ass against Russell’s loins; the pair wallowing in the warm, sticky afterglow of thunderous man-sex, connected now on a whole other level.
Just as a long, black car skidded to a dusty stop out front. And a swarm of Federal agents armed with search and arrest warrants, and tommy-guns, boiled out; catching the contented, criminous men with more than their pants down.