Temporary Trucker

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TEMPORARY TRUCKER Part 5

I headed off that morning with a good feeling about Emilio which faded a little as the confusion in my mind about so many things took over. When I stopped for a sandwich for lunch, I sat in the truck and wrote in my diary, the entry reflecting the massive confusion I was feeling.

To say that my emotions were mixed up by this time would be a gross understatement. How could I feel the way I did? I mean, first there was Greg back home. He was a great guy and really sexy. Then there was Tony, who'd taken me to a physical and emotional mountain top and left me hungry for him ever since.

In my mind, I kept hearing Wade's down to earth warnings about not screwing up my life. Tommy was so genuinely a nice guy, full of more good advice until I'm thinking that Tony's the one for me. Mike and Jim remind me that there are problems for any couple, but I'm still thinking about Tony, even as I prove to Nick that he likes two-way sex with guys better than just getting off. So I'm feeling pretty sure of my own feelings, and then along comes Emilio. He brought out things in me I'd never known, like wanting to be the 'take-charge' guy who can comfort and possess and satisfy a beautiful man the first time I meet him.

How could I care about all of them? Who did I care about the most? It was a mind-numbing dilemma, but I had three days of dull driving ahead of me and that filled my mind most of the time. Not all the time, of course. My dick didn't seem willing to let that happen.

My route took me up through northern California, then across to Sacramento and heading on home. I opted for the interstate to head north, although everyone had told me about how beautiful it is to drive up the coast highway. I was headed to San Francisco and wanted to get as close as I could that day. In the end I stopped near San Luis Obispo at an large truck stop not far off the highway.

From the beginning, it seemed a different sort of place. There was a flippant, rather effeminate young guy working at the cashier counter as I walked in.

"And what'll you have," he said, not bothering to look up at me. I told him the pump number and gave him my credit card. Without a word, he ran the card through and pushed the button to print the receipt. When he turned back, he looked at me and his whole manner changed.

"Why you can have any ol' thing you want," he said, mincing around as he found a pen for me.

"I'll just take the receipt," I answered. He annoyed me and I wasn't sure why.

"Well, you come back if you think of anything else you want," he called after me. I felt my face flush.

It was near dinner time but I felt more thirsty than hungry. I'd seen a small restaurant and bar just next to the truck stop so I decided to walk over there and have a couple of beers.

The bar was small and not very crowded, but as I slid onto the bar stool and ordered a beer, there seemed to be an interesting collection of people. No one paid much attention to me except the bartender who was a nice looking chap with a pleasant banter and piercing eyes that didn't seem to miss anything that was happening in the room. It's amazing how when you're sitting alone in a place like that, you notice things you wouldn't see ordinarily, and several situations caught my attention as I looked around.

There was a trio of guys wearing painters outfits who sat together at a small table. I guessed that the one guy was seven or eight years older than the other two, who looked to be in their very early twenties. I figured they were a painting crew who'd worked together that day and had stopped for a couple of beers before going home.

Another pair I saw were both wearing uniform shirts of an electrical contractor and levis. One was younger, blond and very muscularly built. The other was dark haired with a mustache and very slender. What intrigued me was the way the dark haired guy looked at the other. I could only describe it as adoration and wild desire.

A guy and a girl sat in the back booth and it was obvious that he had his hand nearly up her skirt, and she certainly didn't appear to mind.

Finally, there were a couple of gals sitting alone in a booth. One was dressed so manishly that I first thought it was a guy. She wore a man's shirt and chino style pants and her hair was cut severely short. Her companion was dressed very femininely in a skirt and blouse with big gold earrings and long flowing dark hair which cascaded down over her shoulders.

As I sat there, trying to be inconspicuous, I tried to imagine what each of their stories might be. Easiest was the guy and the girl, I figured. Either he's married or she is, or maybe they both are, but surely not to each other. They don't have a real place to go so they're having this furtive encounter in the place they feel most unlikely to meet anyone they know.

The two gals I pegged as a lesbian couple, though I admit to almost total ignorance of that lifestyle. I've heard that gals tend to be a lot more monogamous then men and that they form couples for a long time. In this case, I figured they hadn't gotten quite that far or they wouldn't be in so unlikely a place. Perhaps one of them was cheating on somebody too.

I had more fun fantasizing about the guys. The pair of electricians I figured to be work buddies, and I let myself imagine that the dark-haired guy was panting in horniness for the blond. Probably nothing would ever happen between them, but it was fun to picture the brunette servicing the blond's bulging crotch until the blond got hot enough to want to get into the fun too. Then, I tried to believe, the blond would pull down the dark-haired guy's old fashioned style jeans and find himself facing a very long, thin dick which he'd suck before begging to get it up the ass.

The painters were a little more complicated. The older guy, with his spiky hair and well built body, I decided to cast as the seducer of the two younger guys. The younger guys were totally dissimilar: one was tall, thin and blond and the other was short and had dark curly hair and more of an average build. I fantasized the older guy getting them both out of their clothes and making it with each of them in turn. First he'd turn each of them on by sucking their young meat and then as they got into it, he'd talk one of them into taking his big cock up the ass while he sucked first the other one and then, having popped his own nuts deep inside the young guy, take care of the second one too.

I was so lost in all this that I didn't hear the bartender the first time he spoke.

"You got them all figured out?" he said again and I jumped.

"What do you mean?" I answered defensively, "I was miles away."

"Oh," he said almost in a whisper, "I thought maybe you were trying to figure out this strange collection of people."

I pleaded ignorance, but have to admit I don't think I did it very well. I ordered another beer to deflect those piercing dark eyes and tried to focus on the television set across the room.

"You drivin'?" the bartender asked as he set the beer down in front of me. I nodded, adding that I would soon be heading home.

"Oh yeah," he went on after we'd introduced ourselves by first name and I learned his name was Fred. "I used to drive myself and I always hated the last leg of a trip. It just seems to take longer than any of the rest of it." I asked how he'd happened to stop driving.

"Decided I wanted to settle down here," Fred said with a big grin. "Guess everybody who comes to California wants to stay, huh?"

Just then a guy I guessed to be manager of the restaurant walked into the bar. The bartender moved quickly to the other side and they spoke in a whisper.

"So that's why," I told myself, figuring that the two guys were business partners at least and possibly a lot more than that. As the bartender walked back toward me, I was still thinking about it.

"How long have you guys had this place?" I asked, trying to sound innocent. I felt his piercing eyes flash even before they met mine.

"Well, Ted's had the restaurant about eight years. I've only been running the bar a couple of years."

A couple of more people walked into the bar just about that time and the bartender got busy waiting on them for several minutes then walked back over to where I saw.

"You're pretty observant, aren't you?" Fred asked. I tried to look surprised, but he went right on. "You're right, of course." It didn't call for any particular comment so I just nodded my head.

"You want to find out if you can do as well with the rest of this crowd? Most of these folks are regulars."

Figuring it would be a harmless diversion, I agreed, but pointed out that I'd just been fantasizing and had no evidence for anything. He said that was understood, so I wrote down some thoughts on a piece of paper. He read them, smiling, and then he told me what he knew.

"You're pretty much right about the couple," he said, leaning forward to whisper, "They'll be out back in his car in a few minutes banging away. As long as they're discreet, I don't care." I grinned at him.

"You're on target about the electricians. Jeff's the dark-haired one and he'd give about anything to get Rich in the sack. I doubt it will ever happen, but who knows?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise that I could have been right.

"You've got the girls pegged right too. They've been meeting here off and on for a couple of weeks now. I think the fem is still trying to get away from her former lover." I shrugged, now in disbelief at my guesses.

"You're off the mark somewhat about the painters. The young, curly-headed one is the other young one's lover." I shrugged, but then he went on.

"The older guy is the skinny one's father."

"You kidding," I said. "That's incredible."

"The father hinted one time that they get into three-way stuff, but I'm not sure I believe it. But all in all, you did a hell of a good job."

I demurred, pointing out that it was mostly just wild-ass guessing, but the bartender continued to praise my skill.

"Tell me about this guy after you've had a chance to size him up," he said, nodding to the door as a youngish fellow entered.

He was a little on the short side, with dark, curly hair and a thin mustache. He was well built, leaning to the muscular side, and was dressed in a short sleeve plaid shirt and snug fitting chinos which bulged out attractively in all the right places.

He spoke to the bartender in a friendly way and sat at the bar just a couple of seats down from me and ordered a beer. I suddenly realized that except for noting that he was an attractive, rather sexy guy, there was nothing I could discern by looking at him. And then something about him struck me. It wasn't so much his features or his looks, exactly, it was something else.

I pondered it for awhile, trying not to stare at him, but it didn't come to me until the bartender walked back to me.

"What do you think?" the bartender asked in a low whisper, half turning his back to the other guy.

"That's not fair," I countered, "I mean I've only just seen the guy for a few minutes, and I've got nothing to go on." The bartender smiled skeptically.

"Okay," I went on, "except for the fact that he's a pretty sexy looking guy, the only idea I have is that he may be your brother."

The guy looked stunned. He shook his head and laughed aloud. I figured I was way off base.

"Come over here, Dean," the bartender said to the guy who picked up his beer and moved closer, as the bartender introduced us. We shook hands and Dean sat down next to me at the bar.

"Joe here's a pretty good guesser about things," Fred said, "and so I asked him to tell me what he thought of you when you walked in." I started to protest but Fred wouldn't be denied.

"He guessed you were my brother. What do you think of that?"

Dean looked at him quizzically and then at me.

"That's remarkable. Truth is we're half-brothers, but nobody's ever guessed that before. How did you know?"

"Trade secret," I said with a smile. Truth was, it had just come to me. It was something in their manner and their gestures.

"What else did he say?" Dean asked. Now I tried to stop him, but Fred went on.

"He said he thought you looked like a sexy guy," he whispered to his brother. That made my face turn red.

"This guy's a genius," Dean said quietly, then letting his voice rise he went on with a laugh. "In fact, he's much too smart to drink in a dump like this."

It struck me that it was actually a well-timed remark. I'd finished my second beer by that time, and it gave me the easy excuse I needed to leave.

"You're right," I said, rising and offering my hand to each of them. "It's been fun, but I've got to get some sleep." They both protested my leaving but I stuck with it, and was smiling to myself as I walked back to the truck stop.

I had an undistinguished dinner in the restaurant and then decided to turn in early. Last night with Emilio had been exciting but exhausting, and I really hadn't slept that soundly. I walked back to the truck and was just unlocking the cab when I was jolted out of my senses by a huge motorcyle racing up and stopping along side me.

"You didn't give me a chance," a voice cried over the roar of the engine. I admit it wasn't until he pulled off his helmet that I recognized him as the bartender's brother Dean. In another moment he'd silenced the engine and we could both talk in normal voices. I asked him what he meant.

"You left so soon I never got a chance to say that I thought you were sexy too," he said with a broad, pleasant smile which faded a little bit as he became embarrassed. "I mean, I never got a chance to tell you that."

He really did seem a nice-looking dude, and suffice to say that we ended up in the sleeper. It would be unfair to blame him, but sex with him was pretty ordinary. To tell the truth, I regretted having agreed almost as soon as we were in the sleeper.

It wasn't his fault. He just didn't really excite me, and though I did my best and we had a pleasant '69', I wasn't at all sorry when it was over and he left, though I found his parting remark very interesting.

"It's really amazing about you knowing all those things about the people in the bar."

"Just lucky guesses," I countered. "Just luck."

I noted that part of the evening in my diary as a curiosity, then wrote honestly about my feelings of having sex with him, adding as an afterthought that I guessed it was time for me to hold out until I really was turned on in order not to be less satisfied than I was with somebody really special.

I continued on my way the next day and found the drive through Nevada and Colorado just about as boring as I had the trip across the southern desert. Oh sure, I know there's a lot to be seen there, but you don't get to see much of it from the cab of a truck pushing to the limit down the interstate.

I finished my allotted time and put in at a nondescript truck stop. I had a shower, an uneventful dinner and after taking a long walk and reading for awhile, I recorded the dull day in my diary and turned off the lights in the cab to go to sleep. Or so I thought, at least.

I couldn't go to sleep. I tossed and turned and tried every trick I knew, but to no avail. I'm not sure just which of the hundred things which crossed my mind kept me from relaxing enough to go to sleep. Finally, as it neared eleven o'clock, and in real frustration, I got up and pulled on some clothes. I walked into the coffee shop, drank a glass of milk, then went into the lounge where several guys were watching an old movie on television with limited interest. Feeling the same way, I sat down in a lounge chair. After several minutes, the guy nearest to me, who I guessed to be middle aged and very married, leaned closer and whispered to me.

"You look just about as bored as the rest of us, son," he said, smiling pleasantly.

"That's just the way I feel. I can't get myself to relax enough to go back to sleep."

There was an awkward silence as the guy seemed to be thinking. I caught him as he glanced obviously at my crotch and winked broadly then spoke.

"I can help you with that problem, if you want," the guy whispered again, quiet enough that the other guys couldn't hear him. I smiled to myself. It was tempting to get a quick blow job, but I remembered what I'd decided earlier and declined.

"Thanks for the offer," I answered, "but that's not the problem, at least not this time."

"Well," he went on quietly, "the only other advice I have is when I'm feeling that way I call home, regardless of the time. Makes me feel good to hear a familiar voice."

I found that interesting and after several minutes I headed for the telephone.

First I called first Greg, ignoring the serious time difference between California and home. Greg was home and I'd obviously wakened him from what was probably a sound sleep. He sounded groggy and a little out of sorts, but it was when I heard another voice in the background that I realized it might not be just his sleep I'd interrupted. I made my apologies quickly and hung up.

"Do I dare call Tony?" I asked myself. "What if it's the same thing with him?"

I thought about it for a long time, until my selfish need won out over my reservations. Finally I went ahead and called and was relieved when I heard his sexy, if sleepy, voice come on the line.

"I'm sorry to call so late," I started, "but I..."

"Call me anytime, darlin'," he said, his voice as rich and sensuous in tone as ever, "I'd love to hear your voice every minute of the day."

"God, that's good to hear," I said. "I really don't have anything to tell you, but I'm feeling kind of lonely, and I just needed to hear someone's voice."

"I know the feeling, Joe," he said calmly, "and I'll try to be here any time that feeling comes over you."

"You mean you know how I feel?" I asked in some surprise.

"Sure," he answered, "and I know that it's awful. It's a combination of being alone and having more time to think than is healthy. That's when a lot of guys turn to booze or drugs or something else. Better you call me, stud."

It was really great talking to him and I left the phone that night with a far better perspective than I'd had in some time. His last words made me feel incredibly good.

"Hurry home, babe. You need some time off, you hear? And I'm still hopin' we can spend some of it together."

That was all he said, but it made me feel so much better that when I got back to the truck, I stripped off my clothes and climbed into the sleeper again. The only thing that kept me from relaxing completely was the roaring hard-on I'd had since about the second minute of my conversation with Tony. And I went to sleep enjoying that feeling.

The middle-aged guy from the lounge came into the coffee shop the next morning as I was finishing my breakfast. I waved him over and thanked him for the advice about calling. He smiled broadly.

"I'm only sorry you didn't like the other idea, stud. From what you're showing there, I think it would've been fun for both of us." We both smiled rather ruefully.

I got home according to schedule and pulled into the truck yard about half an hour before office closing time. Jean looked up from her desk and smiled as I walked in.

"Look who's back right on time," she said. "Tommy only beat you by a few minutes himself."

I glanced up as Tommy walked out of Dave Snyder's office with the boss. We all shook hands and sat together in Dave's office talking about our trips in a very general way. Naturally, nothing personal or sexual got discussed. Just before she was ready to leave, Jean stuck her head around the doorway.

"By the way, you got some mail while you were gone," she said to me, handing me a large Federal Express envelope, addressed to me and marked 'Personal.' It really surprised me, and when I saw Tony's name on the corner of the mailing slip it made my heart leap up into my throat. I decided to wait until I got outside before opening it.

Dave got a phone call so Tommy and I walked out to the lounge area and had a Coke together. He asked how California had been and I told him frankly about meeting Emilio and then later about the crazy trooper Mike and his friend Jim. He laughed like crazy when I told him about almost getting decked by Jim, which I didn't find quite as funny as he did, but it was good natured anyway.

Dave came out to the lounge, obviously looking for us.

"So you've got some time off coming, don't you?" he asked me with a grin.

"Yes sir, and I'm ready," I smiled back.

"Hell," Tommy interjected, "I'm off on a two-week stint. There's just no fairness."

"Come on, Tommy," Dave said with a smile, "you asked for those three runs yourself so you could get back to Albuquerque to see your brother."

The other man nodded ruefully, and Dave turned back to me.

"Well get on your way," he laughed, "have a good time and we'll see you next week."

I practically flew out to my car, more than ready for the five days off I had coming. I was so excited that I'd driven a mile or so before I remembered that I still hadn't opening the envelope which was sitting on the seat next to me. My curiosity got the better of me and I pulled over to the curb and opened it right away.

There was a short note and another envelope. I opened the note first. It was brief and sounded like Tony:

Joe -

Am hoping you'll use the enclosed and be in Dallas Saturday...I've got some time off too and want to spend it with you. We'll get to know each other better. See you soon.

Tony

The enclosed, of course, was an airline ticket to Dallas. Today was Thursday, and the ticket was for Saturday morning and returning in the evening on Monday. I was surprised but delighted. Now all I had to do was figure out just how to tell my folks about going away. They surprised me by being quite positive response, and talking about it actually led to an interesting dialog with my Dad which I remembered a long time.

"You know, son," he said when we were alone, "you're at a point in your life where you're going to have to make some major decisions. We don't want to stand in your way if that means moving away, although we'd of course rather have you stay close. But either way, we love you very much."

It made me feel a lot better, and I grabbed the phone right away and was delighted to find Tony at home.

"Of course I'll come," I said right away, not bothering with any greeting.

"Hooray!" he answered excitedly, then added with a chuckle, "and you're right about that, stud." The double meaning took a few seconds to sink in.

He promised to meet me at the airport, told me to bring just casual clothes and a swimming suit, and repeated that he was very glad I was coming to visit. I seconded the thought and hung up feeling rather flushed and excited in anticipation.

That night I went to the grocery store for my Mother and happened to run into Greg. He looked great in his tight-fitting levis, but he didn't appear to be totally comfortable. I remembered to apologize about having wakened him so late when I called, but still I sensed some awkwardness in the situation.

"So what have you been doing?" he asked casually. I explained that I'd been working almost nonstop and had been gone quite a lot.

"Enough that I forget what time zone I'm in, I guess," I concluded somewhat guiltily. "Again, I'm really sorry about calling you so late that night."

"Forget it," he countered, "I'm just sorry I wasn't more friendly when you called." He explained that he'd been quite busy working lately too, then added an apology of his own to explain his haste.

"I've been seeing a lot of someone lately," he said a little sheepishly, "and I've got to get going because he's coming over for dinner."

"Hey, that's great," I answered, and suddenly I smiled.

"I don't know why it's awkward for me to say that to someone," he conceded, "I guess I don't want you to think that I don't still find you attractive."

"Don't worry about that," I counted, "I just hope it continues to go well with both of you."

"Yeah, thanks, me too," he said as he grabbed his shopping cart and headed off in a hurry.

As I drove home, I realized that I'd really meant what I'd said. Greg was a nice guy and I wished him good luck in finding what he wanted in another guy. In the process, I guess I was admitting that it probably wasn't me.

Shortly before noon Saturday, I walked off the plane in Dallas and came face to face with Tony. I'd been nervous ever since I'd said I'd make the trip. Something told me that maybe the memory plays tricks on you. That had me worried. What if I didn't find him as exciting as I remembered? What if he didn't find me the same as he thought I'd been? What if the whole trip would be incredibly awkward?

That turned out to be a waste of thought. Nothing about Tony disappointed me at all. He was dressed in dark slacks and a light knit shirt, which showed off his strongly muscled upper body to perfection. His curly brown hair framed his handsome, masculine face, his iridescent blue eyes sparkled behind their fringe of long, dark eye lashes, and when our eyes met, he smiled that perfect smile that sent chills right through me.

The butterflies in my stomach disappeared when I saw him, and when he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close I actually felt a tingling sensation.

We talked only of the trip and how we each were until we'd stowed my luggage in the trunk of his jeep and started to drive from the airport. The airport was totally unfamiliar to me, but when he started to head north instead of toward the city I couldn't help but notice.

"Hey, didn't that sign say Dallas was the other way?" I asked in surprise.

"Yep, it sure did," he answered calmly, resting his hand tenderly on my leg, "now just you let me do the driving. You're supposed to be on vacation from that."

I shrugged my shoulders and forced myself to relax back into the seat.

"We're goin' to a place up on Grapevine Lake," Tony said after a couple of moments. "It's a nice place, and I thought it might be more fun than being in the city. We can go swimming, and there's boating on the lake, and lots of things to do."

"Sounds great," I agreed. For some reason, conversation wasn't going as smoothly as I'd thought it would. For my part, I kept thinking of something to say and then deciding it sounded silly or stupid, so I just kept quiet. The drive wasn't very long, however, and I figured maybe once we got where we were going it would be okay.

This part of Texas, unlike some of the rest of the state, is extremely pretty. Very green and slightly hilly, it reminded me a lot of the upper Midwest.

We left the highway after awhile and Tony turned into a rather narrow road which led by a high walled stretch. As the wall turned, there was an historical marker indicating that this was the site of the famous Austin family ranch. That didn't mean much to me, but I paid more attention when Tony turned into the opening of a tall, heavy-looking iron gate.

"Where are we going?" I asked in confusion.

"Just a little way further," Tony answered, but he smiled pleasantly and patted my knee again, "be patient, darlin'."

We went another couple of miles down the road and turned onto an unpaved lane of sorts and I could see ahead that we were headed toward the lake. Finally, on the right, probably less than fifty feet from the water's edge, there rose from between the trees a good-sized building which looked to have been built with rough-hewn timbers. It had modern windows and doors, but otherwise, it looked very rustic.

As he stopped the car near the main doorway, Tony looked up at the building. He explained that the building was formerly the bunkhouse of the cowboys who worked on the Austin ranch. He said that all of the other buildings had been taken down to build houses and cottages, and that this is the only major building left.

"Wow, that's really interesting," I said as I climbed from the car and admired the building and the attractive garden which surrounded it.

"The landscaping's all new, of course," Tony added. "Evidently, cowboys didn't go in much for that sort of thing."

He unlocked the door, and we walked into one of the most spectacular places I'd ever seen. Off a small foyer, we came into a huge room, the biggest I'd ever seen in a private house. It had rough hewn timber walls and high ceilings, and was decorated in a very masculine way with leather sofas and chairs. One part of the room had an awesome entertainment system with a great looking stereo and a big-screen television. There was an immense bear skin rug in front of a huge stone fireplace which divided the room and was open on two sides.

"Wow," was all I could say, finally getting the rest of the thought out. "This place is fantastic."

"Thanks," Tony said, and suddenly he walked up behind me and put his arms around me.

"God, it's so good to have you here," he murmured as I felt his lips touch the back of my neck. I turned around and our lips met as we clasped each other together passionately. Not a word was spoken for five minutes or so as we kissed intensely, though both of us were moaning fairly loudly as the great sensations washed over each of us.

"You're just as exciting as I remember," I said when we finally stopped for breath.

"Oh yes, you're that and then some," he answered, taking my face in hands and kissing me very gently. "You're so very special."

I didn't want to even move. It felt so good to be next to him, feeling the warmth of his body through our clothes and the pressure of his arms holding me. Our eyes met for a second and he pulled away slightly.

"Come on, let's get you settled," he said quickly, moving to pick up my suitcase, "I'll probably rape you if we stay like that very long."

He headed through a doorway at the far end of the room, gesturing for me to follow him. Through the doorway there was a bathroom and then two bedrooms, both of which were quite large. He put my suitcase in one bedroom.

"You'd probably like to unpack, huh?" he said. He offered me a drink and I agreed to a beer. I opened my bag and started to unpack as he walked from the room. I quickly finished the job and walked back out to the living room. He met me coming back from the kitchen with a couple of beers in hand.

"Now where was that spot?" I asked with a grin. He looked puzzled.

"I mean that spot where I stand if I want to get raped," I went on, trying to put on an innocent look. He laughed aloud.

"You're lucky it didn't happen right there in the airport." I took the beer he offered, and we both sat down on an oversized leather sofa.

What can I say? Ten or fifteen minutes of hot kissing led to mutual undressing, and we ended up '69-ing' right there on the living room floor.

"Oh yeah, let me have that big cock of yours," Tony kind of mumbled as he kissed and licked my cock and balls all over before he gulped it deep in his mouth.

"Uh-huh," I answered in a similar mumble, "but I want yours too."

It was just after I'd finally managed to get all seven and a half inches of his thick meat down my throat that he pulled away slightly.

"Don't hurry," he gasped. "It's so good with you I want to make it last."

That was our respective cue and we both consciously tried to tone down our sucking action to make it last. We'd stop every so often to kiss and cuddle, but the desire to please and satisfy was just too great and very soon we were back to sucking each other hot and deep. There was just no way then to slow down the raging fire.

What Tony was doing felt incredibly good and helplessly I knew I was almost ready to come. I groaned to try and alert him, but I wasn't willing to stop taking his dick to say anything. In just moments, I felt that intense sensation as my dick started erupting deep in his mouth and heard him groan as he felt and tasted the first of my lava flow.

In the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm now, I still wouldn't stop sucking his big, beautiful cock. I wanted it. I wanted to make him come and feel what I was feeling. I wanted all of him and that mad desire wouldn't be denied.

"Uhhhh," I heard him groan, just as I felt his great, huge balls pull up against his body. Just as my own cock spewed its last into the burning suction of his mouth, I felt the first blast of Tony's load strike deep in my throat. Feeling and tasting him come was almost like my own climax going on and on, and I sucked and swallowed rapidly to capture every delicious hot, salty drop the man offered. The satisfaction of my own hot desire added its own waves of pleasure throughout my brain.

And then, in the mellow after-glow, we stayed in place for many minutes, neither of us really willing to break the intoxicating spell of such intimacy. When Tony finally did move, it was to turn around and hold and touch and cuddle as we softly kissed for another long time.

"Oh God, how I've wanted to be with you again," he murmured, almost in a whisper. All I could do was groaned in agreement and cling even more closely to him.

It was many minutes before we started talking again, but when we did there was a marked change in the tone. Somehow we spoke more quietly, more personally, as if we didn't want to risk anything coming between us. In time we sat up and finished our now tepid beer, laughing and joking about privately shared intimacy.

When Tony walked, totally naked, back to the kitchen to get a couple more beers, I came back to the present and viewed my surroundings more carefully. The place was really unbelievably nice. I was still noticing some of the details of the perfectly furnished room when Tony returned.

"Is this place yours?" I blurted out most impolitely, then quickly apologized.

"No need to be sorry," Tony answered. "Yes it's mine. The guy who bought the farm to develop for some expensive houses is a friend of mine. I talked him into letting me keep the bunkhouse which was at this end of the property, and he agreed because it gave an authentic look to the whole place. It took a lot of work, but I remodeled it to suit myself." I assumed he meant it was his home, but he quickly went on.

"I have an apartment in Dallas, but I use this place for week-ends when I can." I'd never known anyone as young as him who had two homes and I was suitably impressed.

He showed me around the rest of the house. The kitchen was large and very modern. There was a small dining room which looked out at the lake, as did a terrace outside the living room. In addition to the bedroom I'd been in, there was another, even larger bedroom with a huge king-sized bed and its own bathroom. Again, the furnishings seemed masculine and in perfect taste.

We spent a quiet, leisurely afternoon along the shore of the lake, sometimes swimming or sunbathing, but mostly we just lied on blankets and talked and talked. It was a very nice way to spend time together and I think we got to know each other quite well during that time.

Tony decided we were going out to dinner which was fine with me.

"Truth is, I'm a lousy cook," he admitted with a big grin. "I do lots of things well, but that's just not one of them." I admitted to being only an okay cook myself.

We went to a rather small restaurant which Tony said wasn't exactly gay but, as he put it, 'definitely mixed.' It was indeed and I was surprised to see the number of male-male and female-female couples which just about filled the restaurant. There was a guy playing quietly at a piano bar, and we sat there to have a drink before we went in to dinner. Tony knew the guy and introduced us.

"Oh yes," Nick, the piano player, said, "Tony said he was having a guest. It's nice to meet the guy he's been talking about so much." Both Tony and I were a little embarrassed, but he'd spoken quietly and clearly no one else in the place cared at all.

We had a couple of drinks and a nice dinner and I was feeling great as we drove back to Tony's place. The moon was shining on the lake, so we took a walk down there and stood holding hands as we watched the light play on the light waves. It was a charming end to the evening.

"You've got your choice," Tony said quietly as he nuzzled against my neck as he walked inside behind me. "You can sleep in your room or you can bunk in with me." I couldn't help but giggle.

"I didn't come all the way here to have you sleep in a different bed from me," I answered honestly. "You think I'm crazy?"

Enough said, and not too many minutes later we were in bed together. God, he felt so good. His strong, tightly muscled body drove me crazy. I felt I could lie there holding him and kissing him forever and never want to move. As nature will, other things rose up and distracted us.

As I felt his cock growing and stiffening against my leg, I knew that I wanted to know again that great feeling of having his cock inside me. Almost shyly, I spoke to him in a whisper.

"I want you to fuck me, Tony. Like you did that first time."

"Uh-huh," he mumbled as he nuzzled against my shoulder, "I want that and everything else with you too."

Just like the first time, he entered my body almost painlessly and managed to stir sensations and emotions I'd never imagined before. To say that we fucked doesn't do it justice. To say that he brought me to a new plateau of physical sensation and satisfaction is closer to the truth but yet not truly enough.

The wild sensations...the exciting crush of his body against mine as he plunged into me...the indescribably wild sensations that washed over me as his stiff cock churned inside me...the glazed look in his eyes as I saw the reflection of his own pleasure from being inside me...the way every nerve in my body rose to a fever pitch...and the wild and fantastic satisfaction as I felt his massive organ throb and felt my insides coated with his cum. When he took my cock in his mouth and expertly sucked me off, I climbed the hill again until a second explosion of wild sensations brought both us to that moment of absolute release can total sexual satisfaction can provide.

It was the most perfect lovemaking I've ever known. It was gentle and passionate at the same time, and we stayed locked together in endless kisses for several hours. Sleep came to follow the ultimate satisfaction and after rising briefly we returned to bed and both drifted off to sleep in an almost euphoric state.

The next morning dawned gloriously and light streamed through the windows as I wakened. Tony's deep, measured breathing made me hesitate to move. I glanced down at his incredibly handsome face and felt again the delight of his warm, strong body against mine, I closed my eyes and reveled in the pleasure. When he stirred a few minutes later, it was my cue to wake him with tender kisses and only nature calling made us finally climb out of bed after another quarter hour of tender lovemaking.

We had breakfast on the patio and watched the early morning boaters and fishermen out on the lake. It was serene and calm, and made the world seem almost unreal.

The day flew by as Tony drove me around, showing me the city sights. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed to me he was going out of his way to show me the incredible number of universities and colleges in the Dallas area. I teased him about it, and got just the embarrassed response I'd hoped for.

Tony had suggested that we bring a change of clothes as we were invited to a dinner party in town that night, but said we'd go back to the ranch afterwards as it wasn't far. This plan meant that we stopped at his apartment which was in a very nice building, ample and spacious to his weekday needs.

It was just after we'd arrive that I noticed a pad of note paper with the name of a trucking firm on it, and it was Tony's name. My curiosity finally got the better of me, and I asked him about it.

"I thought you told me you became a driver because your father left you his truck?"

He smiled, showing those perfect white teeth, and moved us both to the sofa where we sat close together.

"Okay, you caught me," he said with a grin. "What I told you was true. I just didn't tell you the whole story."

It turned out that while his father had indeed left him a truck when he died, he'd also left him the deeds to a number of parcels of very valuable real estate. He'd sold most of the property, invested it carefully and in the process built his own trucking business which was one of the larger privately owned ones in the state of Texas. That explained the obvious prosperity of a rather luxurious apartment as well as a lakefront home.

"I'm not rich, but I'm pretty comfortable," he said cheerfully.

To tell the truth, I didn't care at all about whether or not he had money, but somehow it helped to understand the man a lot better.

He suggested a nap late in the afternoon which seemed like a good idea, but not one we could manage.

It wasn't my fault. I mean, I stripped off my pants and shirt and lay down on my side of the large bed in preparation for a nap. But how's a guy supposed to get any sleep when someone as sexy as Tony starts kissing you?

Likewise, when he starts sucking your cock, isn't it the most natural thing in the world to want to reciprocate and get that long, thick shaft of his down your throat? I mean it wasn't my fault, was it?

Having sex with him was like a dream. Not only was he very sexy and very good at everything, but there was something special just about being with him, about knowing that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. It was a very satisfying feeling. It was a hot, lingering 69-session, both of us wanting not just to get the other guy off but to enjoy all the sensations along the way. I really got so excited sucking his cock that I had to force myself to relax so I wouldn't come too soon. I loved the way it felt when his long cock slipped down into my throat and when I was able to excite him almost to trembling it made me feel proud and deliriously happy.

It's not true that we didn't nap. Maybe for a half an hour. And maybe it should have been for longer.

That evening was one of the worst of my life, and I have no one to blame but myself.

The party was fun, and I really enjoyed meeting the group of Tony's friends. There were ten guys there, all of whom were friends. The two guys who hosted the party were lovers who'd been together for eight or nine years, Tony told me, and both were very nice to me, going out of their way to make me feel comfortable and welcome.

There was one guy, who everyone called Bart, who kept staring at me in a way which made me rather uncomfortable. He was a big, strapping type, built rather like a football player or wrestler. He was nice looking in his very butch way, but somehow he seemed not to be very pleasant.

So it wasn't the party itself which made the evening turn out wrong. Instead, where I went wrong was in not gauging well enough how much alcohol I was consuming during the longish cocktail hour. Things got even worse when we had wine with dinner and by the time the dancing had started I admit I was feeling no pain.

I danced several times with Tony and then, while Tony went to the bathroom, Bart asked me to dance. I wasn't really keen to dance with him, but I couldn't think of any polite way to say no, and I figured it would be okay so we started dancing, with me none to steady on my feet.

I can't say that I consciously knew he was guiding me out into the large entrance hall, but suddenly I found myself backed up to a wall. It all happened so quickly that before I could really get my bearings and struggle, Bart had my shoulders pinned against the wall and was leaning hotly against my crotch while he tried his damnedest to kiss me.

"Come on, babe," he whispered seductively, "let's see what makes you so special, huh?" It was the tone more than the words that caused me to panic and then I started fighting back in earnest. Unfortunately, I wasn't as steady as I thought and instead of fighting him off effectively, I only succeeding in the two of us ending up on the floor with him on top of me. I kept struggling, but he not only outweighed me, he was both stronger and in far better mental shape than I was.

Of course, the worst thing possible happened. Tony and several others heard the scuffle and I guess the picture couldn't have looked worse than it did. Several guys cried out and started pulling Bart up, and I finally succeeded in getting out from under him. But the worst wasn't over yet.

"He started it, Tony," Bart said almost in a shout. "He said he was really hot for me. I couldn't help it, man. He pulled me right down on the floor."

"That's not true. I didn't do anything ..." I started to say, but the words slurred and I'm sure I looked like the damned fool I felt standing there trying to protest my innocence.

"Well, nobody seems to be hurt," one of our hosts said affably, helping me to get up, but a glance at Tony's face told me exactly how bad it really was. He hadn't say a word. He just stood there with the saddest look in his eyes I've ever seen. I felt like I'd been struck by lightning when I saw the hurt in his expression, and I walked over and put my hand on his arm, hoping I could salve the pain I'd caused him.

"You ready to go home?" he said in a low voice. I just nodded. I was too embarrassed to say a word.

"Good. Let's go," Tony continued. He turned and thanked our host for a nice evening, apologizing for the disturbance. I did likewise and we then quickly left.

The silence driving home was deafening. Tony didn't speak at all. He just sat staring at the road in front of us as he efficiently guided the car homeward. I started to protest my innocence again, but he didn't appear to be listening and after a few minutes I gave it up. Or maybe my stupor just made me thing I was making sense. All I know if that I do not remember any more of that evening.

I figured out later that I passed out in the car, and when we got home, I managed to throw up all over Tony and the car before I passed out again.

All I actually remember is waking up in the guest room the next morning with my head pounding like a jackhammer and my stomach churning like a whirlpool. I'd never felt worse in my whole life, and that was before my memory kicked in and I remembered what had happened the night before. I felt awful, and lay in bed for a long time before I even felt well enough to climb out of bed. Only the feeling that my bladder was going to explode if I didn't relieve myself finally made me get out of bed and head for the john.

It was obvious I'd slept alone, and as I saw my own reflection in the mirror as I attempted to wash my face, I knew the full realization of what I'd done.

"What a stupid asshole you are," I muttered to that rather gaunt reflection. "You're really a dumb shit."

I finally decided a hot shower might be the only salvation for how I felt and I stood there with the scalding water flowing down my back in abject misery. I didn't bother shaving, but I did brush my teeth which felt like they had moss growing on them, and pulled on some pants and a shirt before I ventured out into the living room.

Tony was sitting at the table in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee. He got up as I walked into the kitchen and poured me a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee. I sat down at the table and drank the juice, its acidity seeming to cool and soothe my burning throat, then started in on the coffee. Tony finally spoke.

"You feeling okay, now?" he asked calmly. He didn't sound angry, just as he hadn't sounded angry the night before. But his voice had lost almost all of the tenderness I'd heard in it before, and my heart ached knowing I was the cause of the problem.

"Yeah, I guess so," I answered finally. "I don't know what happened to me last night."

"What happened was a little too much of the grain and the grape," he said, trying to smile but not looking really sincere about it. "Drink your coffee. It should help."

And so we sat in silence, me drinking my coffee, which Tony kindly refilled each time the cup got low. He went back to reading the paper and, at least to my mind, effectively ignored me for the next half hour. The silence was louder than anything I'd ever heard, and both my head and my heart ached.

"Tony," I said finally, feeling that I had to at least try to repair the damage, "I'm really so sorry about what happened. I mean, I've never been drunk in my life like that before. I'm sorry that I embarrassed you."

"Don't worry about it, Joe," he answered with a half smile.

"And that business with Bart, you must believe I really didn't do anything to provoke it," I started, suddenly feeling Tony grow very tense.

"Let's not talk about that," Tony countered in a tone that made it clear just how upset he was. "Okay?"

I thought maybe I'd try another tack, and suggested going out to breakfast. He agreed, and things got a little bit better as we left the house. But there was still an awkwardness and a drastic change in things between us. We did some shopping for a small present for my Mom, did a little more sightseeing, and later on had lunch. We got back to the ranch a little before three and I went in to pack and get ready to go to the airport.

We'd disagreed the day I arrived about me paying for my airline ticket, but by now I was determined so I wrote a check and put it in his room while he was doing something else. Unfortunately, he found it before we left and it led to a most unfortunate exchange.

"I told you I don't want you to do this," he said, trying to hand me back the check.

"Look, it's bad enough that you believe that story that I acted that badly last night," I countered, "I'm not having you think I'm a whore as well."

It was a stupid thing to say, I guess, but him not believing me hurt deeply, and the words just came out. He looked as surprised as I felt at having said them, but he folded the check rather ruefully and stuffed it into his pocket and the subject wasn't mentioned again.

The drive to the airport was mostly in silence, and we shook hands rather than embraced. What he didn't see, thankfully, was the tears streaming down my face as headed through the airport doors with my bag. I closeted myself in the men's room until the tears finally stopped, and felt totally drained as I waited for the flight to be called.

Needless to say, I arrived home feeling exhausted. I told my folks that I'd had a great time but was very tired and I hit the sack early. My eyes filled with tears of frustration again, and I went through the wide range of emotions from being sad to being angry and back again before I finally fell asleep. I felt for the first time in many years like a very unhappy young boy, mostly at being helpless to change the way things happened.

I dragged through the next several days rather cheerlessly, and with no wish to do or see anyone. When I chanced to run into Bob having lunch, I tried to avoid talking about the trip but since I'd told him I was going I guess it was unavoidable. First I hesitated, just saying I'd had a good time, then something clicked and I just let go, telling him the whole story.

It was easy to recount the good parts. Seeing Tony, being with him and getting to know him better, and of course the fantastic sex. But when I'd gotten about halfway through the story of the party, Bob shook his head and smiled glumly.

"Oh yes," he muttered quietly, "Queens can be so vicious sometimes, and there's always that old fiend 'jealousy.'"

"But I didn't do anything," I protested. He smiled back.

"I believe you," he said flatly, "but look at it from Tony's viewpoint. When an old friend tells you something a guy's done, and it's someone you only know a little bit, who are you going to believe?" I just shook my head.

"It makes me so damn mad. I think I really love that guy." The words startled me. I mean, I'd never really put it that way, even in my head.

"I think you probably still do," Bob went on calmly, "that's why you're so upset."

I asked what he thought I should do?

"Let it rest a bit," he said. "Odds are he'll find out the truth, so don't be in too big a hurry to write him off."

I thanked him for listening and for his advice and we parted. Driving home I realized that talking it out had made me feel better anyway.

It was almost a pleasure to get back to work the next day, but as I set out for a trip to South Dakota and back I realized that driving a truck gives me far too much time to think. And, of course, what I thought about was how good Tony was, at least most of the time, and how much I hated that rotten dude Bart. Somehow, hating Bart made it easier to forgive Tony for disbelieving me.