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-DurtyRiter
The Man with the Jeep
Chapter 41
John looked Andrew directly in the eye.
"Will this work?"
"Yeah..." answered Andrew uncertainly. "Why?"
"Just making sure," John assured him.
"Is this the part where you spring some surprise on me?"
"What?" John asked trying to look offended and failing miserably. "Me?"
"Yes, you," Andrew laughed. "Everything is all so cloak-and-dagger this and aha-got-you that.
"Okay, maybe I've played that card a little often," John admitted.
"You think?" Andrew responded.
"Well, let me make it up to you then," John said.
"Please do," Andrew said as his heart began to flutter at the sexy man barely an inch away.
"Gladly," John whispered.
His hands slid back over Andrew's shoulders, down his back, and crossed at the waist, drawing Andrew even closer.
"God, you're sexy," he breathed before he closed the small gap between them and gently kissed Andrew.
Andrew melted.
It was the perfect mix of soft and firm. Unhurried, but purposeful. Unlike many of their encounters, this one seemed suspended in time and not merely a momentary prelude to maximum intensity.
A small part of Andrew's mind wondered if drugs were like this: every sense seemed amplified.
He could feel the very texture of John's lips as they pressed gently against his own. Warmth radiated from John's arms into his own body. He wasn't quite sure if he was imagining things or if he really could make out the individual muscles of John's body as he was held so tightly. John's gut expanded and contracted with breath in perfect counterpoint to his own. It was surreal.
It wasn't just his own heartbeat he heard through his ears, either. The rustling of their shirts as they brushed against each other. The quiet and subtle smacking and squishing of their lips in contact with each other. He also picked up the tiniest of growls coming from within John as they teased each other's tongues.
Andrew could detect the slightest traces of rye, Thousand Island dressing, and Swiss cheese in John's mouth, but strawberry was definitely at the forefront. It seemed fitting for John somehow.
He could also smell the strawberry, but that aroma couldn't compete with John's natural musk. It had nothing to do with cologne, but it wasn't at all offensive. It was just John. It had already come to represent acceptance, love, and safety to Andrew, and he reveled in it as he breathed in deeply.
As their kiss lengthened and the sensations continued, John slowly drew Andrew closer to the bed until they were right next to the foot of it and then they sank down to sit on it. Neither wanted the kissing to stop, and so it didn't.
Time was the only thing that didn't register to Andrew.
At some point, John lay back on the bed, naturally pulling Andrew with him since he was still clamped within John's arms. They continued unabated. Not even the slightest thought occurred to Andrew about the way his body ended up twisted half on top of John and half sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off at weird angles. It didn't matter. All that mattered was his connection with John.
When Andrew next became aware of his surroundings, he wasn't quite sure where he was. He could hear John's quiet snore beside him, but he couldn't make out much else. They were obviously on a bed, but it was equally obviously not one he was familiar with. It was pitch black, so there was nothing to be seen, but he did hear plenty of muted insect noises about. And was that an owl hooting?
It slowly came back to him that they were in an RV at the Three Jacks. He didn't realize he could kiss his way to sleep, but that must have been what happened because he knew he was still wearing all his clothes.
He decided "The Interminable Kiss" was at least as good as straight up sex. It was more romantic at least, he chuckled to himself. Absolutely zero regrets as far as that goes. Besides, they had had some really hot sex just a few hours ago anyway. A few hours before they got to the camper, he corrected in his mind. He had no idea what time it was, but night had obviously fallen. John was still asleep, so what had woken him up?
That was when he could make out the squeaking. It wasn't technically any louder than the entomological cacophony, but it was much more rhythmic. He dismissed it as superfluous, but now that he was awake, the call of nature was loud.
He carefully got up from the bed and stumbled as quietly as he could back through the bedroom door without disturbing John. He softly closed the door behind him and felt along the wall for the door into the head. It wasn't until he had closed that door that he started groping in the dark for the light switch. His bladder was screaming at him by this time, and he started to worry that he would find it in time. But then, by sheer fluke, he tapped it, and the lights came on.
It hurt like the dickens. From pitch blackness to brilliant was too much and he instantly squinted it all out. He was tempted to turn the light back off, but knew he didn't have enough time to find the toilet in the dark even in this tiny space. He forced his eyes open in little bursts until they began to adjust. He found the toilet, flipped open the lid, dropped his pants, sat down (since there was no way he could properly aim while standing up without vision), and let loose. He just had to hope the walls were insulated enough for John to sleep through it, because there was no holding back now.
That done, he pondered what to do next. The rush of the last few moments had woken him up enough that he knew it would be a bit before he could settle down again enough to go back to sleep. He didn't want to wake John up if he could help it, so he decided he'd step outside the RV for a minute.
No sooner had he stepped out than he had second thoughts. Thanks to the moon and stars, it was not as dark as in the trailer, but it was a bit nippier than he expected. Luckily, he hadn't grabbed his jacket from the Jeep earlier, so he fished it out and put it on. Cold, of course. Ugh. Well, he'd just have to keep himself warm with a brisk walk down the lane.
He'd only walked a few steps before he figured out where the squeaking he had noticed earlier was coming from.
It was the camper right next to theirs. He could see it swaying side to side in sync with the rhythm of the creaking. It didn't take a genius to figure out what caused the rocking, and he smiled to himself. SomeoneÑ-or rather a couple someones-Ñwere having some fun. Well good for them, whoever they were.
He continued back down the way, but all the other trailers were dark and sleepy. It was a quiet night. Quiet in human terms, he corrected himself. In addition to the occasional hooting owl, rustle within the underbrush, and the breath of the light wind in the leaves, the bugs created quite a symphony. The crunching of his shoes on the graveled pavement added to it. Once he noticed it all, it seemed even louder.
He fought off occasional fearful notions of imaginary stalking predators just beyond his view by deciding that there wouldn't be so much activity by the little animals if there were bigger ones around.
He was not really an expert on this exact spot, but he just decided he'd use the Boy Scout basics he'd learned so many years ago. He made enough noise as he went to not startle other creatures along the way and made sure to keep an alert eye on his surroundings so he wasn't surprised either.
He passed the last of the camp's RVs and eventually came upon one of the public restrooms that were sprinkled around the camp. He realized his bladder wasn't the only thing that needed emptying that night, so he went in to use the can.
Unlike the outhouse farther up the mountain, this seemed like a normal restroom even after he walked in. A simple light above illuminated a few nice but plain sinks with mirrors above them on one side and a couple stalls and urinals on the other.
He stepped into one of the stalls and did his business.
There were no glory holes or obscene graffiti to be found, so he doubted this one had seen much action like that, but his mind wandered back to some of the truck stop porn he had seen or read along the way. A few scenes in particular surfaced, and he found himself hard as he finished up.
He flushed and stood to pull up his pants before he paused and sat back down. He was hard and clearly alone, so why rush out?
He recalled one story and put himself in it:
He sat there in the stall as the deeply drawled voice over the CB had told him to be, waiting anxiously to find out if he was being hoaxed or not and if the voice fit with the man who was supposed to meet him here.
He was jumpy and kept putting on and then immediately removing his shirt or pants as he waged a war of indecision of whether this was a good idea or not. He would decide it was stupid and start getting dressed only to decide he had gone this far already, so he might as well let it play out. He had done that seven times now.
Then he heard it: the prescribed knock on the stall door softly rapping out the agreed pattern of three long knocks, three short ones, and three more long ones.
He paused once more before sliding the latch open.
The door swung in and for a split second, the man looked at the naked young man sitting before him with a look of lust in his eyes. He looked like he might lick his lips in his hunger, but he didn't.
He wasn't very tall--much shorter than Andrew had expected, in fact-Ñbut he was broad in the shoulders and had honestly-earned muscle mass to go with his beer gut. No gym rat, but a hard-working man. A hard-working trucker, complete with flannel shirt, dirty ball cap, and well-worn jeans. Andrew was happy he seemed to have all his teeth inside his very handsome face.
He joined Andrew in the stall in an instant and re-latched the door.
"Yeah, yer a fine little chicken, ain't ya?" the trucker drawled.
Andrew had one last fight with the idea of running out as quick as he could before the man widened his stance a bit and unbuckled his belt.
Andrew's attention was drawn directly there.
"Well come on, boy," the man said. "Get to it. I know you wanna."
Andrew reached out and undid the top button of the trucker's jeans. He could already smell that the driver hadn't showered recently. Which was a good thing as far as Andrew was concerned. He reached for the man's zipper only to discover there was no zipper. Button fly. Sexy, but a pain at the same time. It took much longer to open them than he wanted, but the man's aroma drove him on. He breathed deeply as he fought the buttons one by one until they all succumbed to his will. With both hands, he folded back the top of the man's jeans.
Tired of waiting, the man put his hand firmly on Andrew's head and pulled him closer until his nose was lodged in the driver's crotch.
"That's it, boy," he drawled. "Get in there and smell what a man's like."
"Yes, sir," Andrew answered, although it only came out "mph shmrr."
"Yer a fine one, boy," leered the horny trucker. "Yeah, you'll love my cock inside that little boy pussy of yours, yeah you will! Now show me how bad you want it and work on my dick."
Andrew reached up and pulled down the man's (not so) tighty (yellowed) whiteys until his thick cock popped out and hit Andrew in the face with a thud.
He drooled at it for a moment. It was hooded and gave the impression of being half cut since it didn't cover much of the head at all. But the important thing was the width. That sucker wasn't very long, but it was as big around as a can of Bud Lite.
Andrew licked his lips and then dove onto it. He thought his jaw would break, but he tried to give this torpedo all the effort it deserved.
He soon had much of it slicked up with his spit.
"Okay, boy, now turn around so I can see that rosebud of yers."
He did as he was told and could hear the trucker sigh in appreciation.
"Yeah, boy, that's a hot little hole ya got there," he said. "Real nice. Nice and ready."
The man spit into Andrew's crack and pried his ass cheeks apart.
"Who-wee!" the main exclaimed. "Fine!"
He pushed Andrew's rear down so it would line up with his turgid rod just right and then smeared his spit around with the tip, spitting several more times until he was satisfied.
"All right, boy," he said finally. "Do yer hail Marys or find yer happy place or whatever, `cuz I'm goin' in!"
And with that, he put his cockhead against the younger man's hole and started to push.
"Ah!" exclaimed Andrew, from the pressure.
"It's too late for all that now, boy. Yer getting' it come hell or high water."
The pressure was intense. That cockhead was thick and blunt, and the man never let up his pressure.
"Yow!" screamed Andrew when the head suddenly popped in.
The man slapped Andrew's ass, which helped a very little bit as he continued his inexorable shove forward.
Andrew broke into a profuse sweat and gasped for breath unsuccessfully trying to relax as the invader continued to drive inside him. He was being torn open and was sure he was going to need medical help after this.
But the trucker never faltered. His dick was in and was going to be in all the way, and that was that.
"Damn, boy," he growled. "You are TIGHT!"
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," whimpered Andrew.
Then suddenly the forward momentum stopped. Andrew had never been so pleased that a cock wasn't longer. But it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
The driver started pulling out. Not tenderly in deference to the damage he may have done. Oh no: it was rather quick and the whole motion lasted but a split second before he pounded it all the way back in.
"Ahhh!" cried Andrew.
"Yeah, boy, I'ma drill you good now."
And he did.
Andrew just could not loosen up with his ass stretched so wide to accommodate the monster inside it.
The trucker was either oblivious or just didn't care, because he pounded Andrew's ass mercilessly with his choad.
Andrew was about to pass out before the trucker was finally satisfied.
"Fuck yeah, boy, I'm gonna shoot yer ass so full of spunk you'll taste it fer a week!"
And then he did. Andrew couldn't feel the load because his ass was half numb and half on fire, but the driver grunted loudly with every spurt as he continued to pound away at the tight little ass in front of him.
"Damn, boy," he finally said as he yanked his spent dick out with a loud pop. "You are a fine chicken, make no mistake! Fuck!"
Andrew didn't reply as he tried to catch his breath.
The trucker folded his dick back into his underwear and re-fastened his jeans and belt.
"I'll hit you up again next time I'm down here. Yeah, yer a right good time!"
He slapped Andrew on the ass and left.
Andrew finally turned around to close and re-latch the door, still shaking from the pounding he had just received.
He had always preferred thick cocks to long ones, but this one was ridiculous. He knew he was probably bleeding inside, and he felt like he now had a hole where he used to have an ass. This one devastated him. As much as he liked a good choad, he knew there was no way he was going to tackle that one againÑ-not ever!
He was wrong...
Envisioning that scene, Andrew pumped his cock furiously until he blasted his load into the toilet bowl. It was a release for sure, and he felt the tension leave his body. Was this the first time he had shot a load without John present since they had become boyfriends?
Somehow, he felt guilty. Like he had betrayed his man by jacking off. It was like he had cheated on him even though no one else was there. The tension he had just released came rushing back in an instant.
Why had he done that? And now what?
He put his pants back on and started his return trek.
It wasn't like sex with John wasn't satisfying. Quite the opposite, actually: everything seemed intense, exciting, interesting, and it was fun to try new things even if they were unexpected or something he would have never done before. And the sensitivity and passion...just wow!
But now he just got off on someone who wasn't anything like John. What did that say about himself subconsciously? Was he destined to want someone different from John? Was this relationship as doomed as he had feared from the start?
He angrily kicked at the little pebbles on the road as he walked.
What a mess I am, he thought morosely. It didn't even take another guy to cheat on John with. I did it all on my own. I'm such an asshole.
The farther he walked, the more certain he became that this was a farce of the first magnitude. How dare he even pretend he could be a good boyfriend!
He had indulged in imagining being married to John at some point in the future, but if this is how he handled himself when he wasn't literally with John, what hope was there really?
He would just mess it up. He was bound to. Here was proof.
It must be closer to dawn now, because he noticed that several of the RVs now had lights on as he walked past them and there were a few people walking toward him on the driveway, but he kept his head down and didn't acknowledge any of them.
He was absolutely and unequivocally not up for social interaction right now. He was scum and he didn't need anyone else to know it. He dreaded what would happen when John realized his big mistake and saw what a loser Andrew really was.
His goal was near: he was drawing close to his fifth wheel now. The big black camper with John asleep inside, oblivious to the fact that Andrew had left and cheated on him in the middle of the night. How would Andrew explain himself? He couldn't. There was no valid excuse.
He walked up to the old Jeep...
And kept on walking.
I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :)
Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day!
DurtyRiter@protonmail.com