by J. M. Snyder
“I’ll miss her.” Aaron sighed. She was the only thing he’d miss about that awful company.
Aaron yawned. Even with the efforts of the small dashboard fan, the temperature inside the cab was climbing ever higher. It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept much the night before. So Aaron found himself nodding off, before jerking awake and apologising to Ben.
“You don’t have to keep saying you’re sorry. If you want to sleep, then tilt back your seat and go to sleep.”
“You don’t mind?” Aaron thought it was his job to keep Ben amused—hadn’t that been why the guy had picked him up in the first place?
“I’ll put the radio on low. Should still be able to pick up a few Savannah stations. That should keep me awake.”
Aaron wondered what type of music Ben liked. He watched Ben scan the frequencies and settle on something country. Aaron wrinkled his nose; country was so not his thing. However, Aaron saw how the twangy steel guitars made the corners of Ben’s mouth turn up in a smile and his fingers tap out the rhythm on the steering wheel. Aaron closed his eyes, reclined his seat, and did his best to block out the singer’s voice. No doubt he was bemoaning the loss of his job, his woman, his truck, and his dog all before lunch.
The song changed and Aaron paid more attention because this guy was singing about riding on his big green tractor. The mental imagery of a farmer riding a big vehicle had its appeal. Aaron grinned to himself. He liked men controlling big pieces of equipment. Farmers were nice, cowboys even nicer, but both worked in the outdoors. Aaron was a city boy through and through and didn’t do outdoors.
Of course they had lorries and tractors back home in the UK. They pretty much had everything back home they had in the states, but everything in America was done on a bigger scale. That was one of the reasons why, after university, Aaron had sought employment in the States. Plus, he wanted to get away from his mollycoddling parents and prove to them he could make a worthwhile career in computing and not just sit in his bedroom for the rest of his life writing and playing video games.
However, after a year of bullshit from his employer, not being awarded the raise he’d been promised and not receiving the recognition he’d deserved for his work, Aaron had told his boss to go fuck himself and stormed out of the building. Before flying home to London, tail between his legs, Aaron decided to see a bit of the US first. That had been another bone of contention with his boss—the jerk hadn’t given Aaron the vacation time he’d been owed, making vague noises about unexpected workload and unfavourable markets. It was complete bullshit.
Rather than flying home from Orlando, Aaron decided to take a road tour of the country he’d fallen in love with. He’d hitch rides up the Eastern Seaboard, preferably with big, sexy truckers, and fly back from Newark. And the truckers didn’t come much bigger or sexier than Ben. Aaron drifted off to sleep, to fantasies of being held tight in Ben’s arms as the big bear made sweet, tender love to him.
* * * *
Aaron’s journey out of Florida had taken him longer than he’d planned. He thought with the heat people would be heading north to escape it. They were, but not many were interested in giving a lonely hitchhiker a lift. It’d taken him two days to get as far as St Marys, Georgia. His last ride had been with Petal Blossom and Eagle Sky, a weird but friendly older hippy couple driving a rusty VW camper van, the interior of which smelled of a mixture of fresh tomatoes and burned tea leaves. Aaron was no fool. He knew it was marijuana, but as the old couple didn’t let on or smoke the stuff in front of him, he stayed dumb.
They dropped him off at a diner just off the interstate where Aaron ate a late breakfast and then slowly walked back toward the interstate.
But the intolerable heat and humidity made him sweat, and the small bottle of water he’d bought at the diner was soon gone. His arm was getting tired, not to mention his feet.
A jeep slowed and Aaron picked up his backpack and began to walk toward the hot Tarmac. The passenger’s window rolled down and Aaron heard a wolf whistle. A whisper of air-conditioned air passed over his face.
“Hey, mate, thanks for stopping,” Aaron panted, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm.
“Fuck, we thought you were a chick!” a college-age guy from inside the jeep said.
“Uh, no?” Okay, he wasn’t overly tall at five feet seven, slender in build, had long blond hair tied up in a man bun to keep it off his face and neck, and maybe his facial features were a bit on the androgynous side.
The window wound up and the jeep sped away, its tyres squealing.
“Fucking bastards!” Aaron yelled, waving his fist at the rapidly departing vehicle. “Hope your straight dicks drop off from dipping them in some diseased cunt!”
Just then he heard the hiss of air brakes from behind. He turned around, clenched fist morphing into friendly raised thumb. A huge black lorry was stopping. Aaron plastered on a smile, but held his hopes in check, just in case this was another bust.
The huge vehicle stopped and seconds later the passenger door opened. “Get in before the cops pick you up!” a guy wearing a baseball cap said before pulling his head back inside.
Not quite believing his luck, Aaron shrugged and started to clamber up the steps into the cab. “Thanks, mate. I was dying out there.”
The driver was big, like huge, flannel shirt covering wide shoulders and a full belly. And a faded pair of Wranglers did their best to contain a wide waist, fat thighs, and a large crotch bulge. Aaron was in lust!
“Hot!” Aaron whistled before he could stop himself.
“It’s the humidity,” the driver said. “Come on, close that door. I’m not supposed to stop on the on ramp.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry.” Aaron pulled his holdall inside the cab and slammed the door.
“Sorry the A/C is busted,” the driver said, getting them underway. He took a meaty paw off the wheel for a second and pointed to an oscillating dashboard fan. “That ain’t up to much, but it’s better than being deafened by having the windows open.”
“No worries, mate,” Aaron said, unable to believe his luck at being picked up by this…god-like bear of a man.
“You’re a long way from home,” the man said once they’d reached the interstate proper and were cruising at a steady speed.
“Uh, yeah. But I’m going back there, home I mean. From Newark. How far can you take me?”
“All the way.”
Several delicious come-backs to that comment sprang to mind, but Aaron bit them back.
Before he could form a suitable response, the driver said, “Haven’t picked up an Aussie before.”
Aaron let out a groan. “I’m from London.” Just in case the guy didn’t know, he added, “That’s the capital of England.” Aaron realised he might be sounding ungrateful for the lift, so quickly made a joke. “This is, or was St Marys, Georgia and I was born near St Mary-Le-Bow. Didn’t realise St Mary got around so much.” At the man’s lack of comprehension, Aaron explained how a true cockney was born within the sound of Bow bells.
The man grunted, which Aaron took as understanding.
Aaron thought he better move to safer ground. “Sorry, forgive my rudeness. I’m Aaron, Aaron Jones.”
The driver then volunteered his name as Ben Knight.
“Pleased to meet you, Ben Knight.” Aaron would have shaken the man’s hand but they were on the wheel, so contented himself by patting the guy’s upper arm. And so what if he was copping a quick feel? He loved big arms, and in spite of the belly fat, Ben had decent biceps.
* * * *
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’re here,” Ben said, shaking Aaron’s arm.
Aaron opened one eye and saw Ben leaning over him, within kissing distance. Stretching his arms, he asked, “You think I’m beautiful?”
Ben looked uncomfortable and started to withdraw.
Aaron sat up and put his hands on Ben’s shoulders. “I think you’re pretty bloody hot, too.” He levered himself up and kissed Ben squa
rely on the lips, disturbing the baseball cap.
Ben pulled back, straightened his hat, and said, “Knock that shit off!” Ben wiped his mouth and glanced out of the windscreen. “Someone could see.”
Aaron doubted it, they were pretty high up. But when he chanced a peek out of the window he saw another lorry parked to their right. Fortunately the cab appeared empty. “Sorry.” Aaron rubbed at his eyes. He was still exhausted. The heat didn’t help. “Where are we?”
Ben had resumed his seat. “North Carolina. We can get a shower here, then I’ll gas up the rig, see about getting the A/C looked at then we’ll eat.”
Aaron smelled his pits and wrinkled his nose. Then his stomach rumbled. Putting on a fake American accent, he said, “Sounds like a plan, good buddy.”
Ben got up and crawled between the seats, searching for something in what Aaron assumed was the sleeper compartment.
“You have a fine arse, mate.”
“Aaron!” Ben warned.
“Sorry.” He’d have to be more careful, Ben wasn’t used to this level of teasing. But Aaron was serious. Ben’s arse was big and wide and soft and just so strokeable.
Ben shot up and hit his head on something. “Ouch! Aaron, I mean it. Quit messing around. People can see.”
Aaron took Ben’s words to mean they could mess about when no one could see.
* * * *
“What?” Ben asked when Aaron pushed Ben’s shower cubicle door open just before Ben closed it.
Aaron grinned. No way was he showering alone, not when shortly there’d be a naked and wet trucker nearby for the perving on. Aaron was about to say as much when he remembered his promise to go softly with the gentle bear. Putting on what he hoped was an embarrassed expression, he said, “Don’t want to shower by myself, not with all these rough-looking trucker-types about.” Aaron hoped the statement would bring out Ben’s seemingly in-born protective instincts.
Ben rolled his eyes but opened the door wider to admit Aaron. Okay, Ben might not have believed him, but it got him what he wanted, so all was good.
“My big strong protector,” Aaron said, standing on tiptoe to peck Ben on the lips.
Ben took a step back and Aaron took a step forward. As they were in a relatively confined space, it didn’t take long before Ben ran out of room to escape.
“Relax, Big Ben,” Aaron whispered, running his hands down Ben’s chest. “No one can see us in here.” Aaron’s hands moved up to caress Ben’s wide shoulders.
Ben shook his head. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when it comes to touching you. Come on, get this sexy shirt off so I can see the sexy body underneath.”
“Not sexy,” Ben whispered, removing Aaron’s hands from the front of his shirt. “And not so loud. Folks might not be able to see, but they can still hear.”
Aaron made a zipping motion across his lips but almost immediately broke his promise by letting out a low moan of admiration when he started to unbutton Ben’s shirt to reveal a rug of curly brown hair. “So soft,” he said, running his fingertips through Ben’s chest hair.
“I’m a freak.”
Aaron put a finger to Ben’s lips. “No talking, remember?” Plus Aaron couldn’t disagree more about Ben being a freak. “Now for your lower half.”
Aaron was something of an expert at getting into men’s trousers. He was on his knees, had Ben’s belt buckle released, waistband unbuttoned, and fly unzipped within a couple of seconds. He may not have beaten his personal record, but his actions were fast enough that he had his hand on the prize before Ben could tell him to stop.
“You are a big boy,” Aaron whispered before kissing the partially exposed head of Ben’s dick.
Ben jerked his hips backward, but as he’d already been backed into a corner, there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. “Knock it off!” he hissed.
“He talking to me or you?” Aaron whispered to Ben’s dick, which had started to stiffen. “Let’s ignore him, he’s a real killjoy, ain’t he?” Aaron licked the crown and then kissed it. “Can’t call you Little Ben because you aren’t little. I know, I’ll call you Ben Junior or B.J. for short. Get it?” He chuckled and kissed B.J.’s head once again.
“Aaron!” Ben said, trying to fend the man off.
Aaron let out a frustrated breath, sat back on his haunches, and looked up at Ben. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave.” Under his breath he muttered, “Like I said, killjoy.”
Aaron stood and rapidly stripped off his own clothes then let down his hair. Glancing over to see how Ben was doing, he saw that the man was standing stock still. However, B.J. was rising steadily. Ben must have realised what he was or wasn’t doing and quickly dropped his jeans and underpants to the tiled floor. He bent to pick his clothes up and put them in his duffle bag.
When Ben turned to enter the shower proper, it was Aaron’s turn to be frozen in place.
Ben’s arse had been magnificent clad in denim, out of it the two mounds of flesh were a work of art. Full, round, hairy, and totally lickable. Aaron snapped out of his trance long enough to realise Ben hadn’t taken off his cap.
Rather than say anything and risk upsetting Ben even further, Aaron reached up, snatched the cap from Ben’s head, and gasped.
Ben ducked his head, showing Aaron more of his head. It was completely free of hair. “Sorry,” Ben said quietly.
“Huh?” Then Aaron realised. Ben was embarrassed. Oh, hell, no! Aaron reached up to gently grasp the sides of Ben’s head and tilt it to his level to kiss it repeatedly. He followed this with tender caresses with his fingertips. “Totally hot,” he said quietly. “You’ve quite literally kept this under your hat.”
“Started going bald when I was thirty. Tried a comb over but that looked stupid, as did a wig. So I shaved it all off.”
“And it really suits you.”
Ben shook his head, dislodging Aaron’s fingers.
Aaron took hold of Ben’s head once again and gently jerked it up and down to imitate a nod. And to reinforce his point, Aaron took Ben’s right hand and curled the fingers over his achingly hard dick.
For the first time since they met, Ben initiated a kiss. And what a hungry, devouring kiss it was. By the time their lips parted, Aaron was panting for breath. Barely had Aaron had time to fill his lungs before he was crushed to Ben’s naked chest. Despite both of them being hard, it didn’t seem to Aaron to be an erotic clench.
“Come on, Big Ben, let’s shower before they come in here wanting to know what’s up.” Aaron turned on the spray. Moments later he reached up to run a hand over Ben’s now wet scalp. “At least you don’t have to spend money on hair products.”
Ben chuckled. “There is that.”
They showered in almost complete silence, just content to touch and occasionally kiss. Ben insisted on washing Aaron’s hair, twice, and Aaron returned the favour by scrubbing Ben’s back.
After they dried off, Aaron got out his hairdryer, turned it on low, and aimed it at Ben’s chest.
“Quit it”! Ben said, trying to snatch the hairdryer.
But Aaron dodged out of the way and soon Ben gave in and permitted his chest hair to be blow-dried.
Turning off the machine, Aaron stood on tiptoe and kissed Ben’s pouty lips. “Do you know how sexy that look is?”
Ben shook his head.
“Well it is. Want to dry my hair now?” Normally Aaron hated people messing with his hair, but he knew how much Ben liked washing it, so thought he’d let the guy dry it, too.
Ben took the hairdryer and a brush Aaron gave him, and spent the best part of ten minutes on his task. When Aaron reached for a scrunchy to put up his hair, Ben took it and put it back in Aaron’s bag.
Aaron raised an eyebrow and Ben moved to stand in front of the bag, arms crossed over his chest, looking defiant. It was sexy as hell. Aaron could only assume Ben liked him with his hair down. He could live with that. He was all for making Ben happy.
Silently they dressed in clean clothes—a Flori
da Gators T-shirt for Aaron and a snug-fitting, western-style blue and white plaid shirt for Ben. Aaron thought the big trucker looked especially sexy in his new outfit.
Judging from the increased noise level coming from the corridor outside, the place was filling up. Ben pointed to himself then at the door. He then raised two fingers and pointed to Aaron, who nodded his understanding.
Ben unlocked and opened the door, closing it quickly behind him. Aaron quietly locked the door and prepared to wait.
“Hey, Benny!” a loud voice exclaimed. “God, man, you’re busting out of that shirt. If you get any fatter you’ll have to start ordering your clothes from Ringling Brothers.”
A few men laughed. Aaron frowned.
A different voice said, “When you walk backward, does your ass beep?”
“Fuck you,” Ben said, sounding dejected, although it was difficult to tell because his words were drowned out by loud laughter.
Aaron refused to listen to any more. He unbolted the door and steamed his way toward the group of four men who’d encircled Ben.
“Hey, who’s this?” one of the men asked.
Aaron went to stand next to Ben. He so wanted to hug the guy, but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate so put his hands on his hips and stared down who he thought was the ringleader. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” At the man’s look of incomprehension, Aaron continued, “You’re hardly a beanpole. Tell me, does the gravity surrounding your beer belly bend light when you stand outside?”
This got a “Good one,” and an embarrassed chuckle from one of the others, however, the ringleader didn’t look pleased. “You little punk.” The man clenched his fists and took half a step forward.
“Chad, no.” Ben tried to move Aaron behind him, but Aaron wasn’t having any of it.
“Can’t you pick on someone your own size?” Aaron looked around, careful not to get Ben in his sights. “Oh, sorry, there isn’t anyone your size.”
“Come on, Chad, man, let’s shower,” the man standing next to Chad said, taking his arm.
Seeing Ben’s hands on Aaron trying to move him, Chad sneered. “You two fuck buddies or something?”