Truck Me All Day Long

by J. D. Walker

  I wandered back to the kitchen to make more coffee. “I want you to be comfortable here, with me.” I washed out my travel mug in the sink and refilled it. “Are you coming to Waffle House with me?” I asked once more.

  His eyes said he really wanted to, but “No,” came out of his mouth. “Thanks, though.”

  “It’s okay. So, Derrick—one of my drivers—is moving in today with his brother. He should be here shortly. I’ll leave you to get settled in. I’ll be in and out.” I grabbed my coffee and headed outside, in an attempt to regain my sanity and not force myself on the man. I was just glad he was willing to give us another chance. I’d move at whatever pace he set.

  * * * *

  By mid-afternoon, Derrick and Joey had moved in, and I’d introduced them to the other tenants. Joey had been installed by the fire in a camp chair next to the other folks who were having a Sunday cookout, while I helped Derrick unpack his rental truck. Everyone was friendly and welcoming to the two young men.

  I had also informed Sara about Joey’s PTSD that morning while I’d worked on her sink, just in case an issue came up. I liked to think of the trailer park residents as my family. Derrick was very grateful for the change of environment and the opportunity to do better at work.

  I waved away his gratitude. “No need to thank me, Derrick. I’m glad to help.”

  As for the war veteran, Joey had a fragile beauty. He was skinny and frail, his hair a dull black which hung in limp strands around his face. He was obviously having a hard time with things, and I hoped that Derrick would be able to get the rest of the money together soon to get his brother the help he desperately needed.

  Derrick was very protective of Joey and would check on him every hour to make sure he was okay, in between preparing their new home for occupation. Joey obviously adored his big brother and worshipped the ground he walked on. I told them about the paths in the woods, and that they were safe. It was my hope that this change of scenery would be to their benefit and help keep Derrick on an even keel from now on.

  I had glimpsed Brandon from time to time as he went back and forth, running errands or re-acquainting himself with the tenants. I had been within earshot when I heard Bud ask, tentatively, if he was back to stay. Our argument before I threw Brandon out after his cheating announcement had been really loud. His response was that we were working it out. I appreciated that he didn’t say we were only roommates.

  That evening, I made us dinner—steaks on the grill—and baked potatoes with sour cream, and a pre-cut salad. Brandon was pleased that I’d made the effort. We exchanged small talk, but mostly enjoyed sharing a meal together in our home again.

  A little while later, after we cleaned up, I went to check on the new residents. I knocked on the door, and Joey opened it.

  “Hey, Adrian,” he said, smiling a little as he stepped aside to let me in.

  “Hi, Joey. Thanks.” I stood in the living room and watched as he sat down on an old recliner and unmuted the TV. His hand shook a little on the remote. “You settling in okay?”

  He glanced at me quickly before returning his focus to the screen. “Oh yeah. This place is great. Thanks a bunch for what you did for us.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Derrick came around the corner, wiping his hands on a towel. “Hey, Adrian.”

  “Hi. Just wondered if you need anything?”

  “No, we’re good. Heater works great, dishwasher is humming, and the washer and dryer are doing their thing. To echo what Joey said, thanks for all this. It eases my mind, you know?” He lowered his voice, “And his.” He used his chin to indicate Joey, who was now engrossed in a western.

  “Understood. Can I talk to you in the kitchen?”

  “Come on back.” I followed him and stood by the fridge, observing him drying the pots and pans I assume he’d used for dinner. “What’s up?”

  “You never told me how much your rent was.”

  “Oh, right. Uh, I paid nine hundred a month.” He placed the pots in a floor-level cabinet.

  “Okay, so, how about you pay me four hundred? Utilities and cable included, trash pickup once a week. Deal?”

  He appeared stunned, but slowly nodded. “That’s beyond fair. I don’t know what to say, Adrian, how I can express—”

  “Enough already,” I said, gruffly. “You need to focus on saving up for Joey’s care. Don’t worry if you’re late on the rent sometimes. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

  “You’re like my own personal genie,” he said with awe.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I scratched the side of my neck. “If you don’t mind me asking, how much do you have left to save up for Joey’s admittance to the treatment facility?”

  “Six hundred. I’ve been able to set aside about a hundred bucks a month, but it makes things tight.”

  “You’re doing fine, son. Don’t lose faith. You’re a good brother—the best.” He blushed and fidgeted.

  “Okay.” I headed back toward the door, with Derrick close behind. “You have a good night, guys.”

  “Night, Adrian,” Derrick replied, and Joey waved.

  When I returned home, Brandon was sitting in the living room watching a movie on Netflix, his hair damp and feet up on the coffee table. It was a habit I’d tried to break him of in the past, but the sight of his meaty ankles, plump toes and blunt nails made my mouth dry. I decided to pick my battles and not worry about it.

  “Everything okay with the Chois?” he asked as I hung my winter jacket in the hall closet.

  “Yup.” I sauntered over to the couch and sat as close to Brandon as I dared. His scent enveloped me, soapy and masculine and…okay, I needed to stop right there.

  “What’s your work schedule going to be, now?” I asked.

  Brandon muted the TV and faced me. “I’ll work six days a week, with Sundays off, from ten ‘til six-thirty. Then I’ll have my classes from seven ‘til ten, Monday, Wednesday and Friday.”

  “Good to know.” I stood, the better to keep my head and not jump his bones. “Well, I’m gonna get ready for bed. You know I get up with the birds.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, I do. Believe it or not, I missed that.” His quick glance and slightly rosy cheeks said more than his words did. He missed me and he was sorry. I missed him, too.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Brandon.” I went over to him and, after hesitating briefly, leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Congratulations on your new job, and good luck tomorrow. Have a good night, love.” I stepped away and noted his wide eyes. Too late, I realized what I’d said. Oh well, maybe it would move things along faster.

  I turned and wandered to my room. I sent up a heartfelt plea that it wouldn’t be too much longer until Brandon was back in my bed, or I in his.

  * * * *

  A month went by, and we settled into a routine. The nights that Brandon wasn’t in class, he cooked our meals—at his insistence, not mine—and we watched a show or two together before heading off to our separate rooms. We’d discuss our day and the frustrations or successes we’d had. We were learning about each other all over again.

  At ConcreteXpress, Derrick became less erratic and more like his usual competent self, now that his life—and Joey’s—were on a more stable path. Joey was thriving in his new, relaxed, open air environment, and the residents were very understanding—thankfully—of his sudden outbursts or the occasional nightmare or flashback that had him screaming in the night. Bud and Sara took turns keeping him company during the day, too.

  Trev ribbed me relentlessly about having a platonic roommate, but underneath it all, I knew he was pleased that things had taken a turn for the better. His parting words, lately, at the end of each shift had been, “So, you let him fuck you yet?”

  I told Brandon more about life with my grandfather, and he told me a few stories about his old job and the jerks he’d encountered on his travels for sales. Before, it had been more about my interests, my life—than his. Now, I wanted to hear everything, know everything. I couldn’t ge
t enough of what made him tick, what made him angry or sad. I finally understood the joy to be had in sharing your life with another person. Much more rewarding, and humbling.

  * * * *

  One unseasonably warm Saturday evening at the end of March, we decided to have a Mission Impossible film marathon—so we could ogle Tom Cruise—from the first one through the most recent. Dressed in nothing but shorts, we were on movie number three, drinking beer, when Brandon’s head suddenly dropped into my lap. Not that I minded.

  We’d been adding little intimacies over the past few weeks. Things like a touch on the forearm, or a kiss on the nose. I was getting tired of jacking my dick off every night, sometimes twice. At my age, I’d thought my libido would be slowing down. Maybe it was Brandon, but I was as horny today as I’d been as a teenager screwing Bobby Jones in the woods behind the park.

  Brandon was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. He got tipsy after one bottle of Coors, which was his preferred brand. It took me three before I felt anything, and then I became silly and channeled my inner Rihanna. I was on my third, and my head was starting to feel a little fuzzy. Lyrics to Umbrella were running through my head.

  I stared down at him, one eyebrow raised. “What’s up, Brandy? Can’t hold your liquor, huh?”

  Brandon lightly slapped my hip. “Don’t call me that.” His speech was slightly slurred.

  For some reason, I felt like poking the bear. “Or what, Brandy? Whatcha gonna do to me, huh?” I ran a hand through his hair, my fingers sinking into the lovely curls like we hadn’t been apart for months. I guess I was more buzzed than I thought, if I was doing this.

  “I’ll fuck your ass ‘til you shut the hell up, Rihanna.” Apparently alcohol was working its magic on him, too. And while my virgin hole clenched at the very thought of being breached, I couldn’t let him get away with the “R” word.

  “Put your money where your mouth is, babe.” I set my bottle aside and started to tickle him.

  “Basta! Stop!” Brandon would lapse into Spanish sometimes when he was emotional, drunk or getting fucked.

  He dropped his empty beer can on the carpet and tried to fend me off. It wasn’t hard to do, really, since he was bigger, taller, and stronger than me, but I was devious, so I used all my strength to push him to the floor. I sat on his stomach and attacked his armpits.

  “Mierda!” he gasped, laughing as he tried to squash my roaming fingers. I continued the torture, however, because it pleased me.

  Finally, he rolled us over, our bodies shoving the small table closer to the TV as he placed himself on my lap. He was heavy, but I loved his weight on me. We were both panting and giggling like teenagers. It felt good—so did the hard-on that had grown in my shorts while we played around.

  I watched his face above me as he sobered up. “What are we doing?” he asked.

  “We’re taking the next step, thank God,” I replied, as I ran my hands over his arms, and reached around to squeeze his firm buttocks.

  “You’ve never been fucked before, amorcito. You sure about this?” His concern warmed me, but I needed this to happen, more than anything else in my life, because it would show him how completely I trusted him—and us—together.

  I surged up against his ass and used my fingers to rub the cock tenting his own shorts. “I’m sure. Just…take it slow, is all.”

  In response, Brandon lay on top of me, and stretched my arms out to the sides. His firm, meaty grip held me to the floor, and he slowly rotated his hips, his dick grinding against mine. I moaned like a slut. Fuck.

  He continued to move with me while he whispered in my ear, “Gotta get you to relax. Just feel, okay?”

  My response was a whimper. He grinned at my crossed eyes, then took my mouth in a languid exploration. His taste was a memory that had given me solace on all those long, empty nights, a blend of sweetness and home to which I was addicted and had missed terribly.

  I opened up to Brandon, letting him take me as he would. He released his hold on me and cupped my head gently, angling it so he could better fuck my tonsils. Guh.

  “Put your arms around me, honey,” he murmured against my lips. I obeyed. How could I not?

  In fact, I wrapped my entire body around his, and held on as he took all of me, made me feel cherished and cared for with the lip-lock of a lifetime. I let myself go and moved against him, my cock ready to go off faster than it had even when we’d been together in the past.

  I pulled back to catch a breath, and Brandon nibbled on my cheek and nose. “I’m gonna blow, if you keep this up,” I informed him, trying to hold on to my sanity and not come like a randy teenager.

  “Do it, sweetheart. It’ll make it a little easier to get you ready for me.”

  “But I—”

  Brandon kissed me, cutting off the words and rolled over onto his back, taking me with him. He moved his hands down to my buttocks and squeezed, pressing me closer to him and urging me to move.

  “Come on, Rihanna, let go.” He licked my ear and bit into the fleshy lobe. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

  It was such a turnaround from the way we usually approached this that I came at his words in an instant. Who knew?

  “Shit!” I ground into his stomach, the wetness from my cock seeping through my shorts and dampening his. I collapsed on his chest, breathing hard.

  “Hermoso,” he whispered. “Beautiful.” He brushed a hand over my hair and ran his fingers up and down my spine.

  I felt how hard he was beneath me and forced my eyes open. “You want to fuck me here?”

  “No, sweetheart. A bed is much better—and softer.” He smirked. “We’re not so young anymore. Let’s go to your room.” He placed me to the side then stood, pulling me up with him.

  I stared at him, feeling surprisingly shy. “How about your room?”

  He peered at me. “Why? Something wrong with your bed? Or you don’t want me there?” He seemed confused and a little hurt.

  “No, no,” I hastened to assure him. “I just, I want to do things on your turf, so to speak, give you autonomy, you know—” I was babbling. Since when did I babble?

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I appreciate that, love, and thank you—but, I want to do this in your—our—bed. Same, but different at once. Entiendes?”

  I grinned in return. “Sí. Yes, I understand.” I jumped into his arms and he laughed as he caught his balance and carried me to re-christen our bedroom.

  Brandon laid me gently on the mattress and stripped me of my shorts. They were sticky with my cum. “Someone’s been naughty,” he drawled, as he took off his own shorts and crawled up to lay down beside me.

  “It’s your fault,” I pointed out. “You gonna clean it up?”

  “In a bit. Let me explore first. I want to cherish you, Adrian. I want you to know how much you mean to me, how much I missed you the past year, and that I appreciate all you’ve done to get us back to this point. Te amo, you know?”

  I felt a swell of emotion. “I love you, too.” With that, I pulled him to me and let him have his way.

  * * *

  Brandon laved my body from top to bottom. He missed nothing in his exploration, not my eyelids, or the delicate shell of my ear. The tender skin at my throat, the mixture of gray and blond hair on my chest were all of interest. He nibbled, tasted, and teased me to the point of madness.

  Just to be a brat, he ignored my growing cock and left hickies on my thighs, knees, and ankles. He mouthed my toes, and I smiled to myself. Good thing I cleaned the floor earlier or he would have found lint on my feet. But, thought finally abandoned me when he returned to my cock and licked it clean, bringing it back to fullness.

  “Brandon, please,” I begged, not knowing how else to get him to do more.

  “Shhh, love. I’ve got you.” He moved down to my balls and sucked on them for a few minutes, making me fist the covers beneath us.

  “Goddamn!” I screamed as he took my cock down his throat again and swallowed around it—
once.

  He drew back, a line of spit linking his tongue to my dick and I almost spilled again at the sight.

  “Jesus, you’re beyond sexy,” I uttered.

  Brandon licked his lips and then got on his knees. Grabbing both of my legs, he spread them apart so he could see my most private place.

  “Now, that’s a pretty sight,” he proclaimed as he lay between my legs and took a long sniff. “God, you smell good. I’ve missed your scent.”

  He spit on my hole, getting it good and wet. Then slowly, he dug the tip of his tongue inside my channel, getting me used to the idea of penetration.

  “Brandon,” I muttered at the odd sensation, but I welcomed it, too, because the love of my life was doing it to me. Soon, he was going deeper, and it started to feel really good.

  He pulled away briefly. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll get you there.” He worked on me for a bit, then sat back on his heels. “You have lube somewhere? A condom?”

  “Geez, you want me to think?” I smiled to take away the sting of my words and pointed to the bedside table. “In there.”

  He quickly got the items, then opened the tube. Smearing his fingers, Brandon pressed his middle finger inside me. Immediately, I clenched against the intrusion, hard.

  “It’s okay, baby. Respira. Breathe.” He stroked my thigh, then pumped my flagging cock a bit to help take away some of the tension.

  Brandon was able to proceed after I relaxed, and soon he had two fingers, then three plunging in and out. When he found my sensitive nub, I was in nirvana.

  “Holy Christ!” I yelled. Brandon kept on stroking the spot, leaving no thought in my mind anymore of pain or discomfort. I was ready to burst. “I want to come, baby. Please, don’t stop.”

  “Well, I want a piece of the action, too, sweetheart. Let me suit up and we’ll both fly together, sí?”

  “But—” Then I stopped and took a breath to calm down. “Okay.” I fought back the urge to explode and watched Brandon prepare his cock with the condom and more lube. He used the last bit of the slick substance to stretch me a little bit more, then positioned himself.