He was on the highway to hell with a ticket to heaven.
Jez is back behind the wheel of his rig, self-conscious he’s sampled the oral expertise of his court appointed problem feral, Atom. He’s having second thoughts about his involvement with the very twink he’s supposed to mentor, putting himself through hell over their relationship especially after Atom helps him out of a tight spot with the highway patrol. When the two of them are thrown into jail by corrupt cops in the next town it looks as if even Atom’s skills won’t help them this time.
Series: Trucker Fucker
Ebook ID: 5112_1181
lyd Category: Men-4-Men
Length: 38 pdf Pages / 4833 words
Formats Available: pdf, prc, lit, zipped html,
lrf, epub, RB,
Ebook Cover Price: $1.99
We were back on the road again. Atom was so buzzed that I wondered whether he got off on the violence at the stopover or whether he’d taken something when he was out of my sight. Maybe both. He’d been very quiet but could scarcely sit still for the first fifteen to twenty minutes of our onward journey.
Finally, he turned to me. “Sorry, Jez. Didn’t mean to get you involved in all that trouble back there.”
I snorted. “No apologies necessary. I got the best knob polish ever as a result.”
“Yeah, about that,” he added. “I didn’t mean to force myself on you. I know you’re a pussy sorta guy.”
To stop him wallowing in guilt, I said, “Maybe after tonight’s experience I might defect to the other side for the occasional blow job.”
His face lit up. “Really? I was that good?”
I leaned across and ruffled his hair. “Don’t let it go to your head, son.”
“You’ve got a nice cock, Jez. I’d really like to feel it in my ass some time.”
“In your dreams, mate. Not gonna happen.”
Sure, I was willing to overlook the fact it was a dude hanging off my shaft on the odd occasion I was so horny it didn’t matter, but sink my tackle in his shit hole. Uh huh.
Atom just smiled. “I’ve got a week shy of six months to get you to change your mind. Wanna make a bet on it?”
“You’d just be losing the shirt off your back, that’s how adamant I am.”
“And I reckon you’ll give in before the time is up.”
Smug bastard. I know my cock inside out and no way was it gonna get hard for boy cunt.
“You got a bet, Atom,” I said at last. “No drugs, no getting me drunk, no underhanded tricks.”
“I won’t need ’em.”
“Cocky little prick.”
“So, what’s the bet?”
“Jeez, you don’t have much confidence that you’ll be able to withstand my obvious charms.” So saying, Atom slipped his shorts down over his butt and placed his feet on the dash so he could finger his ass.
I looked across and I must confess the sight of his finger penetrating his sphincter did have a certain allure but I bypassed the erection cortex of my brain and the potential for penile excitement ended up down a dead end. Shit, that was close. But I knew I had the willpower.
Barry Lowe’s dreams of winning the Nobel Prize for Literature faded about thirty years ago when he realised what he wrote best was about the wild, whacky, wonderful world of sex and that his vocabulary would never rival Patrick White’s or even Evelyn Waugh’s. Since then he’s been happily churning out the odd gay sex comedy for stage as well as a mountain of newspaper columns and an avalanche of erotica for print and eBooks. He is also the author of Atomic Blonde, a biography of 1950s sex goddess, Mamie Van Doren. He lives in Sydney, Australia, with his long-term partner, Wally.
Check out his website at www.barrylowe.net.