Chapter Four
A Small-Town Stud
Before he'd met Nick, Austin's heterosexual experience had been fairly limited. After all, until fairly recently he had been just another horny male virgin living in a small town, constantly fantasizing, and constantly masturbating to relieve the erotic pressures contained within his powerfully developed young body. His actual sex life had begun conventionally enough with a girl, a tramp who hung out with the athletes at the local high school, and who had gone to bed with almost all of them at one time or another, and in various combinations. Austin had made a name for himself on the football team during his very first year, and even if he'd been unattractive, his success on the field would have been enough to put him on this girl's list of eligible studs. The slut threw herself at him, and one night in the back seat of his car, he lost his cherry to her, plunging his inexperienced but fully functional prick in and out of her insatiable cunt until they both exploded in orgasm.
At least he'd had the sense to use a condom. The last thing either he or his precocious partner wanted was a pregnancy!
Several subsequent experiences of a similar nature, however, made it clear to Austin that he really wasn't getting much out of heterosexual fucking. At least, despite all the fuss the other guys made about it, it didn't seem so wonderful to him--just a way to get his rocks off. He wasn't sure he didn't prefer a good old-fashioned hand job, self service, after all.
And he possessed enough self-awareness to recognize vague stirrings of homoerotic longing in himself. He was attracted to other men's bodies. He liked athletes in general, and he developed crushes on several handsome professional athletes in particular. Secretly, he was annoyed when he heard the other guys use anti-gay slurs, or make lame gay jokes.
One of the things they joked about were the local truck stops, a couple of which were reputed to be notorious gay pickup spots. It was almost as much as a young man's reputation was worth for him to be seen at one of these places, even if he was just getting gas at the pumps, or stopping for a meal in the diner.
And then there were the bars in the area. Only one of them could really be described as an exclusively gay bar. The others were mixed, or at least gay-friendly to a greater or lesser degree. The gay bar, The Driveshaft, was on the other bank of the river. It had a bad reputation because it catered to a rough crowd, including truck drivers, for whom it was a popular hangout. That was why Austin had decided to go there today. If Nick Grandiforte didn't want him, Austin would damn well find some other guy who did!
In the short time since he'd come out, he'd already begun to associate truck driving with gay sex, logically enough, based on his own experiences to date.
Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, he and some friends had been at loose ends on a Friday night. They'd driven to the other side of the river, taking the bridge, and had done some serious drinking in the town there, ending up in a road house just outside the town limits. The group had ended up getting their signals crossed and gotten separated, so that Austin had been left behind with only a few dollars in his pocket, and worse, he'd left his cell phone, he realized, at home, so he couldn't call his buddies to tell them to swing back and pick him up. It was late at night and all he could do was hit the highway and try to hitch a ride back to the ferry dock.
After a long wait, Austin was surprised to see a big freight hauling rig slow down. He knew that truckers weren't supposed to pick up hitchhikers, technically speaking, but this rig stopped. Austin gratefully climbed up to the cab and got in, settling on the cold leather seat beside the driver, who was a thick-set, muscular type about thirty-five, with a strong jaw, a tanned face and arms, blue-gray eyes and blond hair. He wore jeans--every bit as tight-fitting and as faded as Austin's own--and a polo shirt, which wasn't exactly standard truck driver's attire but which showed off his heavy chest and bulging biceps.
"Bill's the name," he said.
"I'm Austin. I'm trying to get into town and to the ferry in time to catch the last boat to the other side of the river."
"I'm headed right that way, so we ought to make it, no sweat."
"Great."
They chatted for some time as the truck sped through the dark, quiet night. Then Bill said, "Look at what I bought myself today." He pulled a plain manila envelope out from under the seat and handed it to Austin.
Austin opened it automatically and pulled out a magazine.
He had never seen anything quite like the unblushingly pornographic photographs the magazine contained. Each photo showed a man and a woman, naked, fucking in various positions. The first, several pages were devoted to a step-by-step photo essay showing the woman sucking the guy's long, hard, thick cock. After the pages depicting the actual intercourse, with the dude's prong buried deep inside his partner's pussy, the final sequence showed him withdrawing it again. When he shot his load, the sperm blasted all over her face and dribbled down her open, panting, eager lips, and licking tongue. She smiled wantonly at the camera as the come dripped from her face.
"Holy shit," Austin choked. "This is pretty hot stuff." He felt his cock beginning to harden inside his suddenly too-tight jeans as he turned back the pages and examined the cocksucking sequence more closely, easily imagining himself in the man's place with those willing lips wrapped snugly around his aching joint, suctioning away. "Where the hell'd you get this, anyway?" he demanded.
"At a porno store I stopped at, earlier today," Bill replied. "Here, why don't you have a drink?" He produced a bottle of bourbon and handed it to Austin, who swallowed a big mouthful and passed it back. "I'm not allowed to have any while I'm on the road, but that's no reason why you shouldn't have a snort. Go on, take another swig, kid. It'll make a man out of you."
Austin eagerly closed his lips around the neck of the bottle and tipped it up again.
"That bitch sure looks like she knows how to give a guy's dick a good working over, doesn't she?" the truck driver commented lewdly. "Hey, you ever had a blow job?"
"Well, no," Austin admitted. He didn't see any need to try to impress Bill by lying about it. The various girls Austin had made out with would never agree to suck him. As much as he begged them to, they wouldn't put what they usually referred to as that dirty thing into their mouths--only up their cunts.
"Yeah? That's hard to believe. A good-looking young dude like you. Some guys like a good suck-off better than pussy, you know. First you feel somebody's smooth lips copping your joint, nice and warm and wet, closing right down around your meat. Then you feel a tongue dig into that really sensitive spot, you know, right under the head, licking away, and man, oh man! And once your cock slides deep down a tight hot throat, once it gets held down there and sucked on like there was milk in there to suck right out of it, then shit, kid, I'm telling you there just ain't nothing like it in the whole goddamn world! You want to find out what it feels like?"
Austin was scared. He knew he should tell the guy to stop so he could get out of the truck. But he sat still and said nothing. New, conflicting emotions welled up inside him, and he quivered with excitement and nervousness at the prospect of letting Bill blow him. His dick pressed even harder against his jeans. He felt the truck make a turn, and he saw that they had gone off the main highway and onto a dark side road. Then he felt a big, calloused hand push between his legs and cup itself nonchalantly over his crotch. He stifled a groan of guilty, fearful pleasure. Bill, still steering with one hand, began to exert a steady, confident pressure with the other, kneading the hot meat imprisoned beneath the buttons of Austin's fly.
"You like that, don't you?" Bill whispered heatedly, his breath rasping over the edges of his teeth in the tense silence inside the truck cab. "I can tell you like it. Jesus, that's the biggest goddamn rod you've got inside those pants of yours. Spread your legs a little, let me get at it. That's right," he said, when Austin obeyed. "I'm going to just keep working your big hot prick, baby, and you're going to ram it down my throat. I won't hurt you, I promise, if that's what you're worried a
bout, so don't be nervous. In fact, Austin, you're going to enjoy every cocksucking minute of this!"
"I have to catch the ferry," Austin protested, his voice trembling.
"I'll get you there. You won't miss it, I promise. We got plenty of time. Plenty of time for you to drop a load, first."
The truck rolled to a stop in the shadow of a huge tree at the edge of a deserted field. Austin remained motionless, wanting it to happen and yet not wanting to commit himself, afraid but almost helpless, paralyzed, with desire.
The hand so busy between his legs now climbed up to Austin's belt buckle, and he felt it being loosened. He felt the hand undo the buttons of his jeans, one by one, spreading the fly wide open. He dared not look down. Then, the fingers, alive and warm down there inside his pants, were caressing and fondling his balls, hefting and tickling them and then they pulled out his cock, right out into the open.
Austin dared to look down at last. His dick stood straight out from his jeans, and Bill's big warm hand was wrapped around the lower part of it, squeezing the shaft with a gentle firmness, rhythmically stroking it. His thumb rubbed restlessly up and down against the cockhead.
"You've got a really big one, don't you?" Bill whispered. "There're damn few nice big cocks like this around, especially on a guy your age! You're not clipped, either, still got your hood, huh? Mint condition. I like that. Shit, look at all that foreskin, and that big fat head peeking through it. Fuck!"
Bill lowered his head into Austin's lap. Austin felt his prick, the shaft of which was still tightly clasped in the trucker's fist, being captured by something warm and wet and pulsatingly slippery. He gasped as Bill's head began to move up and down. He had never dreamed that anything could feel this good! And Bill went on and on, sucking him, just like the woman in the magazine, as though he'd be perfectly delighted to work on Austin's cock all night. Hell yes, as far as Austin was concerned, this did beat pussy--
that hot, wet, tight, hard-moving mouth flesh around his cock, like a whirlpool sucking in a drowning man's body!
"Suck it, man. Suck it!" Austin finally dared to moan out loud. "Oh God, suck it!"
His outburst seemed to inspire his cocksucker to even greater urgency. Within seconds, the pleasure became so intense it was unbearable. Austin arched upward off the seat with all his strength, fucking his tool into Bill's mouth, ramming it brutally down the man's engorged throat. Bill only ate it harder and faster, more eagerly, as he emitted muffled, obscene cries of delight. Suddenly Austin groaned, fought back a shout, and fired his first thick wad of cream into Bill's mouth.
Turgid wads of sperm followed one another, bursting from Austin's arching, trembling body.
When it was all over, Austin sank back against the leather seat, breathing hard, and Bill curbed his lips slowly back up around his cockshaft, then off it altogether, licking the tip of the depleted organ with his tongue before he finally sat up again.
"Do--do you always swallow that stuff?" a hard-breathing Austin asked him in amazement.
"Sure, every chance I get! There's nothing like it, the taste of another guy's hot come in your mouth. Hell, are you that new to this whole scene?"
Austin nodded. He was too abashed to speak.
"I remember the first time I got my joint done," Bill laughed. "The poor bastard nearly choked on my come, I gave him so much!" As Bill reminisced, Austin relaxed and drank more bourbon when Bill offered it. Austin felt ambivalent about having participated in a homosexual act, even as a passive recipient of oral attention. But the booze was helping him to get over that, fast, and so, strangely enough, was the odor in the truck cab. It was a heady combination of the male scent of two aroused bodies, of crotch, armpits, sweat, bourbon, and jism.
"Put the bottle down, don't spill it," Bill cautioned. He opened his own fly and took out his prick. It wasn't remarkably long, but it was big, and it thickened and grew stiffer as Bill pumped it with his hand. As it grew completely hard, he held it up like a mast and said, "Now, this baby has been around some. I like to suck a guy off, you know, feel all that hot cream blasting into my mouth and sliding down my throat? However, I like to get mine sucked off, too. How about it, kid? Think you can handle it?"
"I--I've never done it." Austin stared at the other guy's prick with an odd mixture of revulsion and lust.
"Come on, help a buddy out," Bill coaxed. "I'll tell you what, just put your hand around it. Just like it was a nice hot piece of pipe. There, oh, that feels great! Now, give it a little squeeze. Shit, that's even better. Come on, Austin. Be a sport. You're looking at it. You're feeling it. It looks good, right? And it feels good? Well? Don't you think it'll taste good, too? Listen, I swear to you, it's clean. I'm not a dirty kind of a guy. Come on. Go down on it, just a little."
Austin looked down at the throbbing cock he was holding in his hand. He knew he shouldn't do it, shouldn't give in to the shameful, all-consuming desire he could now feel taking possession of him. He didn't want to become a cocksucker, but he wanted to suck that cock! He was tempted. Bill had blown him and even swallowed his jism, and that certainly meant that Bill was a cocksucker. But there was nothing effeminate or creepy about the big blond trucker. On the contrary, he was all man, and Austin desperately wanted to try it, to find out what it would feel and taste like.
"You can't ever tell anybody about this," he pleaded, although exactly whom Bill might tell was a mystery. The two of them had no acquaintances in common, surely. But Austin wasn't thinking entirely rationally at the moment.
"I won't say a word to anybody, I promise. Come on, go ahead," Bill urged. "Do it!"
As though mesmerized by the sight of Bill's cock, Austin bent down to the other man's lap. He let the truck driver's joint slip smoothly into his mouth. He knew that what he was doing was awful--criminal, immoral. But he felt, at the same time that it was the right thing for him to be doing…that, somehow, he was destined for this. The prick seemed to swell even larger once it was between his lips, to push deeper into his mouth as though of its own volition, jabbing toward his throat. It tasted pungent. Austin sat up again, gasping, shuddering.
"I--I don't know if I can do it. I'm afraid I'll puke!"
"No, you won't," Bill assured him. "Try it again. Just take it slow and easy. You don't have to take it all, you know. Come on. Just suck on the head a little. Please!"
The urgency and need in the other man's voice decided Austin. He lowered his head again, took the head of the cock inside his mouth and experimented with tightening and flexing his lips around its bulk. He was clumsy at first, and grazed Bill with his teeth, making the trucker draw in his breath with a sharp rasp and tense of his muscles. But he quickly got the hang of it, and began to suck with an enthusiasm that compensated for his lack of expertise.
I have a man's cock in my mouth! I'm sucking a cock! And God, does it ever feel good!
He used his mouth on the dick with reckless abandon now and quickly found himself beginning to get the hang of it. Once or twice, though, when Bill jabbed his erection especially forcefully toward the back of his mouth, Austin gagged on the sheer bulk of the male implement he was sucking.
The next time he retched like that, he pulled his lips off the penis.
"Don't come in my mouth," he begged, as he fought for breath.
"I'm really close," Bill confessed. "I'm going to shoot any second, now! Beat me off, will you?"
Austin still had the saliva-moistened prick in his hand. He began to move his fist up and down on the thick piece of meat, smearing his spittle over it. Feeling horny again himself, he began to beat his own rod with his other hand.
"Yeah! Oh, yeah," Bill sighed. "Harder, kid, work it harder. Yeah! Fuck! Flog that prick of mine, oh, jerk it! Beat the mother! Uhh…ohh, ahh shit I'm coming, man!"
A white lob of cream leaped upward and fell onto Austin's pumping hand, and the semen poured forth from the tip of Bill's prick. Austin beat his own meat more urgently, and in a few moments, he erupted a second load into his own hand. The
heavy, funky aroma of jism filled the cab. Austin was almost sickened by it, but at the same time, felt strangely relieved and calm, too.
Soon they were zipped up again, and back on the highway, passing through the sleeping town. When Austin started to get out of the truck at the dock, where the boat was waiting, Bill leaned over toward him and said, "I really got off on that. I'd like to see you again."
"Me, too."
"Gimme your number."
They exchanged cell phone numbers, scribbling them on pages on a little pad Bill pulled out of the glove box. He tore off the page with his number and handed it to Austin, who folded it and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans.
"You live by yourself, Austin?"
"No. I still live at home."
"Your folks keep you on a pretty tight leash?" Bill asked.
"Not really."
"I'll be back here next Friday in my own car, a red pickup. Meet me here by the dock, say around ten at night? And I'll take you out on the town. I'll show you where there's some real action, even around here, the places you can have fun at, and the kind of guys who know what it's all about."
The ferry's bell rang, warning that it was about to depart.
"I--I don't know, man. Maybe." Austin climbed down from the truck.
"Don't let me down. I'll be waiting. Can I call you, in the meantime?"
"Sure."
Austin ran to buy his ticket, and boarded the boat.
All during the next week, Austin thought about it, alternating between desire and disgust, between fear and fascination. Worse, it was now Bill he thought about when he masturbated, visualizing the blond trucker naked and with that big hard-on of his, coming all over the place in a froth of creamy jism.
He received a call from Bill on Thursday afternoon.
"Am I going to see you tomorrow night?" the older man asked, bluntly.
Youre So Unromantic Page 8