I spat down into my hand, onto my cock. Shut my eyes and stroked super-hard and fast. Thinking of Donnie – beautiful Donnie – back home. Pretending the flying hand on my glistening pink pipe was Donnie’s warm, soft, brown hand, giving me my very first second-man hand job behind the garage in his parents’ backyard, lovingly, expertly stroking my virgin prick, pulling me fast to furious ecstasy.
My cock grew come-hard, as Donnie swept up and down the slick, rigid shaft, over and around my bloated purple hood. He pulled the stiffened meat down and pointed the gleaming tip at his mouth, snaking his other hand up and under my T-shirt to catch onto a hardened nipple, squeeze. Sending another thrill rippling all through me, my tightened sac popping with seed.
‘Fuckin’ A! That’s rig’s been rolled back – I’m tellin’ ya!’
A pair of truckers; barging into the roadside diner washroom and clomping towards the urinals.
I didn’t care. I was too far gone to stop, to ever turn back; Donnie had tugged me way past the point of second thoughts. I ducked my head down below the top of the stall and looked into Donnie’s sweet face looking up at me, his lush, red mouth open and waiting, pink tongue hanging out, a gleeful twinkle in his warm, brown eyes. As he pinched my nipple and squeezed my pec, pistoned my oiled, out-of-control cock.
Semen exploded out of my slit, rocking me back on my sneaker heels and against the wall. Striping Donnie’s happy face over and over, jetting onto his tongue and into his mouth; my come on another man’s face!
‘Oh, God, I love you, Donnie!’ I cried, shaking all over with glorious ecstasy, splashing sperm down onto Donnie burst after soul-draining burst.
When I finally came to again, pulled up my pants and slipped out of the stall, the two burly truckers were still standing at the urinals – staring at me. I’d come in to wash some of the road dirt off my hands and face, but now I didn’t bother. Because one of the truckers took a step towards me, his fat cock dangling overripe out of his open fly.
He slipped in a puddle of water and went down hard on the tile with a resounding crack. And I got the heck out of there before there was any more trouble; my own erection still bulging the front of my jeans.
I caught a ride a mile down the highway. A big, broad, middle-aged guy with bristly red hair and a burnt-red face. I’d seen him inhaling the liver and onions special back in the diner.
He had a swollen upper lip, and a lecherous look in his big, blue eyes as he surveyed my faded, skin-tight jeans and tight, white T-shirt, my sun-browned arms and face and sun-lightened blond hair. He was driving a cherry red 1957 Cadillac convertible, and he had his long, hard cock out of his suit pants and waving my way only a couple of miles after pick-up.
I looked at him, at his towering, vein-ribboned erection.
‘C’mon,’ he said, nice and easy, gesturing with his dick again, grinning dentures at me. ‘I’ll take you far as you want to go. Food’s on me all the way.’
San Francisco was still a long way away. And I hadn’t eaten anything all day. So, I scooched over on the shiny red and white bench seat and dipped my head down, took the man’s mushroomed cap into my mouth and sucked.
‘That’s the stuff!’ he groaned.
The car swerved, as I sunk my head down to meet his big hand gripping the base of his big cock, my mouth and some of my throat filling with throbbing pipe. We were barrelling along at 80 miles-per-hour, top down and wind blowing and sun shining. Me deepthroating a guy I’d met barely five minutes ago. I’d been doing a lot of things like this all along the open road from Portland, Maine, for the past ten days. And getting pretty darn good at it.
The man eased his hand away from his cock and I plunged my nose down into his pubes, lips kissing his balls. He bucked like we’d hit a speed bump, fought to keep the big old car on the road.
I could smell the sweat on his copper-furred balls, breathing rapidly through my nose, his hot, pulsating meat bulging my cheeks and throat. I gagged a little, and my eyes teared up, but I kept the man’s huge erection locked down in my mouth-embrace (Donnie always said I had natural talent).
But then the big man dug his thick, ringed fingers into my hair and jerked my head up. His cock sprang out of my gasping mouth, attached to my lips by sticky strings of saliva. He pushed my head back down, sealing his cock in my warm, wet mouth again, his red-veined eyes gone misty as mine, thick-lipped mouth hanging open.
He stuffed me full of dick. Then jerked my head back up. Pushed my head back down. Pumping his hips at the same time; fucking my drooling mouth and stretched-out throat.
‘Jesus, yes!’ he yelled, surging shaft between my lips, slamming hood into the back of my throat.
I stuck out my tongue and took a swipe at his balls, dizzy with all the motion, red-faced with all the meat. And he let out a roar and just about tore my hair out, hot, salty, slippery sperm flooding my mouth, shooting down my throat. The big man coming as hard and as much as Donnie used to unload in my mouth.
I gulped fast as I could, snot and spunk bubbling out of my nose, mouth filling again and again. Imagining it was Donnie sitting on the edge of his bed, his long fingers tangled in my hair and slender hips pumping; me on the carpet on my knees, gripping his clenched, bare thighs and urgently drinking his sweet, tangy come straight from his spurting cock. Never wanting to lose the taste of the guy, the feel of his long, thick, thrusting cock in my mouth – wanting more and more and more of what only he could give me. His dad banging on the bedroom door demanding to know what all the noise was about.
The car banging up and down over the warning ridges on the side of the road.
I took a long, last pull on the big man’s spluttering cock and looked up at him. And saw that his beefy face wasn’t red any more, it was purple! His head was lolled back on the seat, his left hand off the steering wheel and lying limp on his leg.
I spat his cock out and fought my head free of his clutching hand. Just as the car drifted off the pavement doing eighty and plunged into the grassy ditch alongside the highway. We dove down in a sickening free-fall. Then hit bottom and ramped up the other side, sailing up out of the ditch and landing with a jarring thud in a farmer’s field. I kicked the man’s foot off the accelerator and planted mine on the brake pedal. And we rocked to a stop in a thick cloud of dust.
I turned off the car and got my bearings, wiping my mouth off. The man behind the wheel didn’t appear to be breathing. Although his pink, purple-veined cock still stood tall and hard, slick with my spit, still waving at me.
I wasn’t sure if the guy was dead or alive. But I just couldn’t stick around to find out for sure. After all the trouble back in Portland, I couldn’t risk any more out here.
So I gently dragged the man out of the car and set him down in the field. Then got the Cadillac back on the road and pointed west again. I’d ditch it once I got to San Francisco. But I had to get there first.
Twenty miles over the Nevada border and I was making good time, almost enjoying the hot sunshine and the rushing wind, the throbbing feel of the open road. When a hitchhiker suddenly jumped right out into the middle of the highway, right in front of the barrelling car.
I jerked the wheel over to the left and stomped on the brakes. Sending the Cadillac fishtailing across the asphalt, tires bouncing, narrowly missing the guy standing there with his arms outstretched. He was inside the car and slamming the big door shut before I’d even caught my breath.
‘Nice wheels,’ he said. ‘Now drive.’
He was a little short guy, with curly black hair and gleaming black eyes, olive-coloured skin without a trace of hair on it. He didn’t say anything more for 30 miles or so. Then he said, ‘What happened to the guy owned this car?’ My hands went even slipperier on the steering wheel, and I swallowed hard and dry. ‘Wh-what’d you mean? It’s … my car.’
He snorted. ‘Yeah, and I’m the president. Connectin’ with the people one ride at a time.’ His thin lips flashed a slash of a grin. ‘Big Red picked me up outside Salt Lake City. Gave me a nice, smooth ride for about five seconds, before getting all fresh – pulling out his pecker and expectin’ me to suck for my dinner. That’s when I popped the fat slob right in the mouth.’
‘I … I …’
‘Yeah, I know. He give you the car for a job well done, decided to walk the rest of the way to his sales convention in Sacramento.’ He licked his lips, never taking his shrewd, mean eyes off of me. ‘Name’s Les. Me and you are goin’ places, kid.’
He proceeded to tell me all about his big plans. The plans for him and me, once we got to San Francisco. First, we’d sell the car to a guy he knew, get a stake for a place in the Castro. Then we’d start hustling; or, at least, I’d start hustling. To finance his other business ventures – all of them illegal. I’d play along, or Les would stop the first cop he saw and report the stolen car and its missing owner.
He went on and on in his hard, brittle voice. As I clung to the steering wheel with white knuckles, for dear life.
Until finally he said, ‘Pull over,’ 90 miles from Reno. ‘There’s a lake around here. I could use a swim – get cleaned up.’
I pulled over at the sign and drove down a dirt road and into a gravel parking lot. Then Les steered me down a path through the woods. It was getting late, so there weren’t a lot people on the small beach, just a few families lying around on the warm sand or splashing around in the cool, blue water.
We waded through the sand to a semi-secluded spot behind a grassy dune. And Les said, ‘Time to seal the deal.’ He hoisted the blanket he’d brought along from the car off his shoulder and onto the sand. Then quickly stripped off his dirty T-shirt and torn jeans.
His small body was tight and wiry, his hard nipples and stubby cock a slightly darker shade than the rest of his skin. He gripped his cock and stroked, leering at me, ‘So, let’s see the merchandise, sunshine.’
I took off my clothes, ducking down a bit so the other people on the beach couldn’t see.
‘Golden boy!’ Les sneered, eyeing my tanned, lanky, blond-fuzzed body. He grabbed onto my semi-erect and yanked me closer, clutching our cocks together, shooting up on to his tip-toes and kissing me hard on the lips.
A thrill raced through me against my will, my naked body flushing with heat, my clenched cock hardening against the little guy’s stiff dick. Donnie had kissed me like that the first time: fierce and hungry and wet, his body melting into mine.
Les thrust his tongue into my mouth and squirmed it around, his strong hand squeezing our cocks to the point of painful pleasure. Until he had me up on my tip-toes, too, whimpering into his open mouth, feebly fighting his tongue with my tongue.
Then he grabbed my head and pulled me down to his chest. And I licked at his pointed nipples, spinning my tongue all around first one hairless bud, and then the other.
‘That’s the shit, tiger!’ he growled. ‘You’ll have ‘em comin’ in their pants in Polk Gulch.’
I bit into his nipple, and he groaned, releasing our cocks from his hand-vice and grabbing onto my shoulders. I tugged on his other rubbery bud. Then started licking and kissing my way down the taut, smooth skin of his stomach.
He stopped me just above his twitching cock, and hissed, ‘Fuck me, stud! Show me what you got!’ Then dropped down on to the blanket on all-fours.
I stared at his arched back and rounded butt cheeks, more than a little surprised – and disappointed – that he wanted to be bottom. I’d fucked Donnie only once, when he’d thought for sure his parents were gone for the evening and we’d have the hot tub out back all to ourselves.
Les dug a tube of lube out of his discarded jeans and tossed it up at me. Then reached back and spread his butt cheeks wide open, dirty fingernails biting into the tan flesh. I quickly squatted in behind him and oiled my heavy, wooden length, hardly feeling it I was so pumped. What with the open air and the sunshine, the sound of the voices and splashing so close by; and that gaping, pink manhole staring me in the face, and cock.
I smeared some lube into his crack, and then gripped my prick and steered shining hood into the guy’s ripe, waiting opening, shaking all over with excitement. We both groaned when I popped my bloated cap through his ring, moaned when I plunged my glistening shaft deep and long into his ass.
‘Fuck!’ Les yelled, burying his face in the blanket and pounding the sand with his fists. As I stuffed his hot, tight chute full of my pulsing cock, right to the balls.
I grabbed onto the guy’s narrow waist and started churning my hips, fucking his ass; on fire with the wicked, wild eroticism of it all. His anus sucked on my cock, and I pumped back.
He gasped and grunted like Donnie, as I’d recklessly splashed up against his rippling cheeks, fucking ass for the very first time, my face and body boiling hot as the water. ‘Donnie! Oh, Donnie!’ I wailed, pistoning raging dong full-length back and forth in his gripping hole, forcing him down until I was right over top of his slick, heated body; revelling in the weird, sensual, rutting sensation of driving deep and hard into another man.
I hardly heard his frantic splutters and gasps, the sharp, wet smack of my flying thighs against his shuddering cheeks echoing and echoing, my head spinning and body burning, cock plundering and surging. I howled, ‘Oh, God, Donnie! I’m coming, Donnie!’ pounding his velvet chute with everything I had, spraying fiery lust up against his bowels over and over and over.
Afraid no longer to let everyone know just how much I really loved men – this man, in particular. Even as Donnie’s mother and father walked out onto the deck and gaped at me fucking their son up the ass, coming in their son’s ass. Donnie’s father gripped his chest, his eyes bugging out. While his wife raced towards the hot tub and pulled Donnie’s head out of the water. As I shook with utter abandoned ecstasy on the end of my true love’s sweet, milking ass.
I opened my eyes, still shaking uncontrollably, hips still pumping into the prone man. He didn’t move. I unplugged my hot iron cock with a satisfied pop and rolled off the guy. Still he didn’t move, or say anything.
I grasped his shoulder and pushed him up onto his side, trembling with more than just spent lust now. Les’ mouth was full of blanket. Like he’d been chewing on it, been forced to eat it. And his face was just like Donnie’s face had been, when his mother pulled him out of the water.
I grabbed up my clothing and ran. Into the bush. Anywhere. Away. Where I couldn’t hurt anybody else ever again.
* * *
Donnie Brayden walked into his parents’ living room and plopped down onto the couch, picked up a magazine. ‘How’re you feeling today, pop?’ he asked.
His father looked up from his newspaper and grunted. ‘Fine. Just fine. So long as I take all those damn pills the doctor gave me.’ His big, beefy face reddened a little more. ‘And, uh, how are you doing, son?’
‘Breathing fine,’ Donnie replied. ‘No problems.’
The older man licked his thick lips, and cleared his throat. ‘You, uh, hear anything from … Travis?’
‘Nope. His mother thinks he’s left town – gone off somewhere.’
Donnie’s father grunted again, shook out his newspaper. ‘Well, that kid never was anything but trouble, in my opinion.’