Chapter 3

The more I thought about it, the surer I became that it was one and in same person. Regretting not having the boys for some afternoon delight, blubber lips was a viable option for a quickie. My cock insisted that I get out of bed, my nuts conquered, and I left the room in search of him.

No longer in the diner, I spotted him in the gift-shop. Nonchalantly making my way towards him, browsing at the tourist junk as he was, finally side by side.

"So, we meet again!" I said with surprise, smiling broadly.

"Oh yeah, ... from the diner, right?"

"You shopping for something, or just killing time like the rest of us stranded souls?"

He laughed and rolled his eyes, "Bored to death like everyone else, I guess."

"I'm Rob." I offered a hand.

"Alex." he relayed, "Nice to meet ya."

We made small talk about our mutual plight. Alex worked for his dad who owned an ice company that supplied the many communities with bagged cubes and blocks. He drove a five ton reefer truck restocking their company owned freezer chests commonly seen outside convenience-stores and gas stations based on a sales commission to the retailers.

Alex took me up on my offer to buy him a beer in the lounge, the only place that wasn't packed with people, as every other square foot of the large facility seemed to be. When he walked, it was hard not to notice the swaying of his junk in the flimsy shorts.

Taking a small, round table away from the twenty or so patrons, we resumed idle chit-chat. I liked him, polite and intelligent, and having a keen knowledge of the family business that I found very interesting learning the manufacturing process. Personal details divulged that he didn't have a girlfriend, was shy around them and no time on his hands to find one.

Three beer later, I didn't beat around the bush.

"I think I've seen you before, pretty sure of it, as a matter of fact."

"Really? --I don't remember seeing you before."

"Well, ... it wasn't actually face to face, --and you probably didn't see me."

Looking confused, he asked, "So where, then? I don't understand."

"It wasn't actually you, but your foot tattoo that I recognized today after seeing it under the shower curtain of the Husky truck stop yesterday; --ya know, ... while you were conserving water with another guy?"

Alex turned crimson, plainly flustered at my blatant accusation and searching for words that only confirmed my shadow of a doubt credence that he was the same cock lover.

Stuttering, he tried to deny his guilty conscience, "I- I don't know w-what yer taking about!"

"It's okay, Alex." I leaned into the table, "I like sucking cock, too!" I confided to relieve his stress.

It was as if the world had been lifted off his shoulders, yet he suddenly regained his defensive stance. I detected a distrust, thinking that maybe I was deceiving him into admission.

I continued, "Matter of fact, that's why I came looking for ya. I was hoping that we could get it on together!" I reached under the table and fondled him over top of his shorts for emphasis and to prove I wasn't kidding. His cock was clearly definable from his balls under the thin satiny material that my hand identified, and explored with individual attention.

If anyone in the throngs of people saw his state of arousal on the hurried walk to my room, they didn't make it known. No sooner had the door been closed and catching me completely off guard, his large mouth was planted on mine threatening to take my whole face, forcing his tongue inside. My t-shirt was forcibly lifted over my head, followed by his hand groping the outside of my shorts and fumbling with the button and zipper.

Not really an enthusiastic kisser of men, I obliged the sexually charged aggression of the half-boy, half-man and returned the lustful embrace and mutual removal of obstructing clothing. Both standing naked with hands exploring wantonly, he dropped to the floor and engulfed my rod three-quarters in length in one gulp. A little overzealous to swallow the whole thing, he sputtered briefly, the undaunted attempt much appreciated, but suffocating himself in the process was not necessary.

He soon found a comfort level marked by his hand. Getting the feeling that he liked it manly and rough, I faced fucked him, he never skipped a beat keeping up the suction, meeting every propulsion head on with vigor and stamina. I stopped and let him mouth me at his own pace when I noticed blood on his upper lip, where his mouth had been pounded against his hand causing a slight tear.

He got me off, taking it like a starving baby on a bottle, looking disappointed that I couldn't feed him more. At some point, his own slender seven incher had spilled a hefty white puddle onto the blue linoleum floor, Assuming that he was getting on his hands and knees to rise, instead, he bent down and shockingly lapped it up!

Leading him onto the bed, we talked as our hands lazily caressed each others upper and lower physique. Alex wasn't long to react; watching as his nice chunk of meat gradually took shape again with a dusting of dried cum salting his crown. Wispy threads of hair garnished the soft, shrink-wrapped walnuts that ebbed upwards toward his groin as his cock demanded more and more of the excess skin.

I was only the fifth man he had ever sucked off in as many weeks, and according to hm, the largest. His first, and subsequent encounters were all at that same truck-stop's public showers where he liked to loiter about, checking out the nude men. A man, who sensed the kid was horny for it, followed him into the shower stall. The rest was history, learning the silent, subtle invitations thereafter.

That particularly unique hotbed of lonely, horny males without scruples as to how they took care of getting their rocks off, was situated in a small port city at the head of the Great Lakes shipping lanes. Its intersecting highways became a network hub for trucking companies to sort and expedite freight to other mainland points. Truckers from all over Canada and the US constantly flowed in and out every day of the week, at all hours of the day and night.

Exactly how the establishment developed its clandestine reputation commonly know on the highways and byways as the "Dip-and-Dash" diner," was a mystery. There were many other local venues that catered to the needs of truckers, but the Dip-and-Dash was one-of-a kind with its added advantage; if a man was so inclined. Expressing his frustration that the same tried and true secret rules of engagement didn't apply at other truck-stops along his route, I enlightened him on a roadside rest-area that held promise just beyond the realm of his father's monopolized business venture. However, not as interactive as the Dip and Dash, the washroom glory-hole was always manned by local residents with time on their hands. The Department of Highways finally gave up repairing the vandalism to the metal partition-wall that was repeatedly at the mercy of crude cutting tools no sooner than they would leave the acre size lot.

Giving blow-jobs was Alex's self confessed fetish, not particularly caring if he got one in return. He had never been fucked, but claimed he was curious about it, however the opportunity never presented itself. No doubt, he would be one hell of a slut in the center of a three-way.

Taking a chance, I asked him if he had any reservations regarding age to feed his hungry aptitude for cock.

"I don't think I'd like fat men, or very old men." he replied.

"What about ... younger boys?" I cautiously pressed.

Alex thought for a moment, "I got the hots for my cousin, --he's fifteen."

Fine tuning my query, "I mean like ... thirteen or fourteen."

"I guess so, I mean a cock is a cock, right?" he reasoned, "Long as they can keep their mouth's shut, --ya know?"

Not answering, but satisfied with his response, I went down on him wanting to show him what other men had only used him for. His balls recently spent, it would be a while before they could replenish any baby makers giving me ample time to take him to heights unknown. At his insistence, I got on top with my sack looped over his nose and blinding his vision, content with a mouth full of flaccid meat that was inferior to the virility that youth such as he possessed. A standing joke of mine was that teenagers didn't have testicles, they were actually battery packs!

Branden and Doogan burst through the door stopping dead in their tracks at the sight of clothes strewn on the floor and the two naked men occupying the second bed in an unmanly way. Alex scrambled for the bed-sheet in a panicked state, but pinned under me, there was little he could do with it. Unperturbed by the interruption, I greeted the stunned boys holding Alex's manhood an inch from my lips. Until that is, I saw a third face appear between Branden and Doogan.

It was a Kodak moment. Three mouths gaped and six eyes lit up, the unfamiliar witness to the live porn scene absorbed the greater impact of the three youths. The blood drained from his face, appearing as if he had seen the devil himself, then it must have surged back, turning into a bright red blush a shade darker than his clusters of acne, all framed by long brown hair in a square cut.

His age I guessed to be fifteen, a head taller than Branden, wearing only black sneakers and white spandex biking shorts that accentuated his bronze body tone, not to mention nicely compacting his genitals into a halved tennis-ball like bulge. A red muscle-shirt hung from the left waistband, and by the sheerness of it, would have snugly fit the top portion of his hour-glass figure.

It was an uncomfortable moment for everyone but me. What else can a guy do when a stranger happens upon something that no inane excuse could justify the truth of the matter. Rolling off Alex, who immediately protected his modesty with the sheet, I sat up and smiled.

"You guys should learn to knock first."

"You should learn to lock the fucking door first!" Branden contended sassy.

"Touche!" I ceded and chuckled, rising to my feet, nudity unhindered other than a scratch of my balls as I walked to the cooler for a couple of beer, passing one to a very embarrassed Alex. "You guys are back early? --And who's your friend?" I asked walking toward the stunned boy with my hand outstretched.

"He's J-J-Jordie!" Doogan answered. "We w-w-wanna know if we can hab some money to go to duh arcade wiff him." he said excitedly, dancing from foot to foot, suddenly oblivious to the awkward aura around him.

Jordie gazed at my offered hand, the same one that had held Alex's slimy cock to my mouth. Reluctantly, he reached and accepted a quick shake with a fleeting glance at my junk. "Nice to meet ya, Jordie!"

"Jordie wibbs here." Doogan took the formal initiative of explaining the boys presence. "We met 'em at duh beach."

Branden peered at me, his eyes wandered down my naked form and back up to meet mine. He was clearly disgusted with me. "So can we?" he asked obstinately.

I met his glare head on for a few moments. When he finally lowered his eyes in defeat, I answered his question. "Sure, ... let me get my wallet but be back in an hour and we'll order a pizza and wings for dinner."

"Peetcha! --Hooray!" screamed Doogan, jumping up and down and placing a hand on Branden's shoulder, "We wub peetcha, --wight, Brandy?"

"Jordie can come back for supper, too, --if he wants." I invited lasciviously, rubbernecking his package as I stooped to pick up my shorts from the floor in search of my wallet. Smiling at him on the rebound, he flushed a darker crimson knowing exactly what my eyes had surveyed. Just a hint of a smile was returned, barely noticeable, but the millisecond, transient flash of his eyebrows southward down my body gave me a glimmer of hope.

"Okay, okay!" Doogan exclaimed with heightened enthusiasm, "You wike peetcha, too, Jordie?"

"I guess, ... we'll see, Doogie." he replied affectionately to the simpleton boy, punching his arm lightly.

Most men would be seriously concerned that a boy such as Jordie might go home and tell his parents everything about the lurid highpoint event of his day, and fret that all hell would break loose at some point in the evening. What Alex and I were caught doing wasn't against the law, the real threat laid in Branden and Doogan being in my perverted company. Hard to explain away should any unwanted attention knock at the door. I've known boys far too long to worry myself; --the ones I was used to didn't say shit!

The boys had left for the arcade somewhere along the strip, and I finished off Alex. As if the satisfaction of that wasn't enough, the thought of Jordie spread eagle with his biker shorts gathered at his knees inflamed my libido enough to both, invigorate my attention to please Alex, but also giving him something to feed his cock fetish bringing him to a violent orgasm. He flopped on the bed like a fish out of water, muttered some unintelligible words as if in agony, and screamed bloody murder when his volcano erupted.

My balls were reluctant to cooperate so soon after they had a chance to replenish the fluids necessary to activate another explosion, but the cock-pig's relentless provocation long after his own orgasm, resulted in a sort of very satisfactory 'implosion, ' that if you haven't experienced that kind of semi-dry orgasm, actually hurts a bit as it strives to forage the two drought ridden silos for fuel before lift off.

I had never quite encountered anyone with such an insatiable appetite for cock as Alex, besides myself, that is. He comically claimed that a life time of being deprived of it, he was only making up for lost time having the mysterious compulsion since the age of about twelve after witnessing his seventeen year old brother being serviced by his girlfriend as Alex quietly bunkered down in a shared bedroom's closet, a sort of makeshift playhouse at the time.

I sensed what was on his mind as he laid silent with his head resting on my crotch, fingers toying with my pubes. My alluding to sex with underage boys was all to clear after his embarrassing encounter with Branden and Doogan. He never asked the relationship, and I never divulged it, The implications became clear asking if he'd rather spend the night with "us" instead of in the uncomfortable front seat of his truck. I wanted his virgin ass and told him exactly that. The rest he could only surmise as being invited to a potential, illicit orgy and Alex certainly wasn't going anywhere that night. We dressed and sat at the table sucking back beer.

Unsolicited, but in obvious nervous tension and the need to talk, Alex went on to describe the trials and tribulations of the family business. After summer tourism season, and back for his final year of high-school, he only had to do 'hot-shot', emergency deliveries on weekends. He had no life as a typical teenager, but laughed off my sympathy to his plight saying that he would have a lot more time to spend at the Dip and Dash!