Chapter 7
Johnny Bertoni proved to be an affable kind of guy, thought Tim, but there was something beyond his easy-going manner that mildly puzzled the youth. There was an awareness, a knowing gleam in his eyes that bore some as-yet-undeciphered message for him.
The inside of the truck cab was every bit as roomy as Amos' vehicle, but Johnny's rig had a comfortable berth behind the driver's seat. The bunk, hidden by a light proof canvas, was used for naps at rest stops or for a relief man on long-distance hauls. As beat as Tim was, he eyed the canvas curtain to the bunk enviously, anticipating kicking back a little. But remembering Johnny's earlier mention that he wanted company -- the talkative kind -- Tim decided to stay as alert as he could.
It was pitch dark outside now and the air had chilled considerably, but inside the truck cab it was cozy and warm. After a long half-hour of small talk, mostly about the weather and ski conditions up at Copper Mountain, Johnny switched on the CB radio. The driver carried on a few brief conversations with other rigs up and down the highway, obviously friends he knew, then he just settled back and listened for a while. Some of the banter made no sense to Tim at all, and whenever his brows knit in a perplexed frown, Johnny would promptly explain the meanings of different terms.
The road bore more traffic as they neared the resort area. Seeing that his rider guest was bored with the incessant chatter of the CB, Johnny turned it off and turned in a rock station from San Francisco. Reception in the mountains was poor and the transmission faded off repeatedly.
"Gets a little lonely sometimes, up here in the middle of nowhere," Johnny lamented.
"Yeah, I suppose so," agreed Tim. "Don't know if I could handle a job like yours or not," he added, wondering if he had been impolite.
"Ever been to any other truck stops?"
Tim looked over to the driver, puzzled. "Like Trudy's? Nope. Can't say that I have. Why?"
"Just wondering." Johnny had mumbled the words, barely loud enough for Tim to hear.
"What?" the teenager asked.
"Thinking out loud, that's all!" he shouted.
Thinking about what? Tim wanted to ask, but he bit back his curiosity. The dark-haired, handsome Italian next to him was playing games, but he was good at that too.
"How old are you, Tim?"
Again, the same old question was bugging him. Why the fuck was everyone so interested in his age? He avoided looking Johnny in the eyes as he answered coldly.
"Eighteen. But I've been around. And I know how to drive a car."
Johnny chuckled. "Yeah. I guess you have been around, all things considered."
Tim fidgeted and squirmed. "I'll be eighteen next month," he added flatly. Suddenly aware that the young man behind the wheel was staring at him, he turned his eyes and studied the sexy Latin face.
"How's your ass?" Johnny abruptly blurted out, his eyes glittering like little hot coals.
"What the fuck you talking about?" Tim asked, trying his best to appear nonplussed, but his brain began whirring, like the fruit on a one-armed bandit. It all came together very quickly and he knew he had lost.
Johnny Bertoni tromped his foot down twice on the lights, reminding an oncoming car to douse its high beams. The headlights caught the good looking truck driver square in the face, illuminating his twinkling, intent eyes and a knowing smile. Two clefts showed at the sides of his smug mouth.
"Might as well confess, Tim," he said, shoving the truck into a lower gear to make the increasing grade, "most beautiful, trim little ass I've ever had in a long time." His voice gradually increased in volume, competing with the roar of the big diesel. "Didn't see much of it for long, though -- not through that damned small gory hole."
Tim stared hard at Johnny's smug profile, then abruptly turned his head away. He could feel his face turning crimson with embarrassment, but at the same time, a strange, familiar warmth spread through his groin. Shrinking back into the truck cab's padded leather seat, he felt helpless, almost defeated.
"What's the matter?" asked Johnny, still beaming with self-satisfaction. "Nothing to get red-faced about. Hell, I been playing around in tea rooms ever since high school. No big thing, kid." He let a reassuring hand fall on the youth's knee and left it there.
Tim's first instinct was to pull away, to voice some small protest, but his muscles wouldn't move. Maybe they didn't want to move! Making the best of the moment, he decided to laugh and see where that took him. Johnny beamed, then began chuckling himself.
Finally Tim said. "Sure was funny your prick getting so fucking big you couldn't get it back out of the hole. Jesus! How did you know I wouldn't have bit the mother-sucker right off?"
Johnny shrugged. His hand squeezed tightly around Tim's knee, then dutifully returned to the wheel. "You would have choked to death first!" he shouted. "Besides, you looked innocent enough to me. You still do!"
"Yeah. Shit! That's what I'm always being told. Your friend Amos thinks I'm too young to understand certain things -- that I should just go ahead and accept 'em." His asshole was sorer than ever. Turning sideways and facing the driver, he propped one leg up on the seat. "You know, like why some dudes really get it off kicking the shit out of a person -- I mean, that's their big sex trip."
Johnny nodded his head, indicating for Tim to go on with his story.
"Well, maybe I need a little more experience in this shit, but I don't understand why affection isn't..."
"Oh, bullshit, kid!"
It was a new voice that broke in, startling Tim and causing him to jerk his head up and sideways. There, over his shoulder, poking a sleepy head through the canvas curtain of the rest bunk, was a swarthy, thin-faced young man in his late twenties. He had a pale, pock-marked complexion, dirty blond hair, and dull, mouse-gray eyes that quickly took Tim in, then darted over to the driver.
"You pick this one up at Trudy's, partner, or you been hiding him in back with the fucking bread?"
"Screw yourself, Kenny. Go back to sleep." Johnny Bertoni's eyes did not look up from the road.
There was a long, stupefied silence.
Tim stared back at the newcomer, a little frightened but more confused. "You the relief driver?" he asked nervously.
"You guessed it, kid. The name's Ken. Kenny Henderson." He pointed an accusing thumb at Johnny. "My better half. Excuse me, I should say, my partner."
Tim looked up at the newcomer, eyes big and expectant. "You both own the rig?" he asked.
"Yep," Kenny replied. "Among other things." He looked for Johnny's cold, expressionless face in the rear-new mirror, found it, and winked. The driver did not respond. "Johnny get in your butt yet, kid?"
"His name is Tim," Johnny snapped, finally managing a charitable smile. Ignoring his friend in back, he gently nudged the teenager on the thigh. "Don't let Kenny get to you, Tim. He's pretty good at fucking things up with his big mouth. After a few years I've gotten so I just overlook his little Goddamn games."
Tim nodded, the comprehension quickly settling in. "You got some kind of understanding?"
Kenny coughed and started to chortle. "With a hunk of meat like Johnny has; that's the mild understatement of the year!"
Any doubts Tim Harding may have harbored about the relationship of the two men next to him he could now toss aside. Obviously, there was a tie of some kind here, but the less he knew about it, the better off he would feel. Johnny's partner, business and otherwise, not only physically repulsed Tim, but he found Kenny's manners disgusting. Somehow, it didn't fit, an odd mismatch; but who was he to criticize bizarre relationships? He'd only too recently escaped being a part of one!
"What's the matter, Tim? Suddenly you aren't too talkative." The friendly but intense voice belonged to Johnny Bertoni.
Tim said nothing. The truck's headlight beams picked out a route marker beside the highway. Tim read the sign and breathed a quick sigh of relief; it read Copper Mountain -- 3 Miles. But his friends, too, had seen the signpost.
Ken subtly tapped Johnny on the shoulder and nodded. The gesture had not gone unnoticed by Tim.
"So what's happening up at Copper? You going skiing mid-week? What happened to school?" Ken fired the questions in rapid succession.
Tim suddenly remembered that he hadn't told the newcomer where he was headed. Obviously, Johnny's driving partner had not been sleeping, but awake for some time, deliberately keeping his silence and listening. "Yeah. Going skiing," Tim finally said, unenthusiastically. He didn't feel like answering, let alone sharing the truth with this obnoxious inquisitor.
Johnny checked his watch under the dash map light then began braking the truck and slowing down. His eyes searched the side of the road for a place to pull over.
The driver's actions brought a puzzled frown to Tim's face. His spirits sagged. In the homestretch and they were stopping! What for? Why out here?
There was a slight glint in Johnny's handsome brown eyes as he asked, "Mind if we hold up and rest a minute, buddy?"
The teenager struggled but said nothing.
The truck's diesel engine had no sooner died than Johnny's big hand was back on Tim's knee. It had felt good there before, warm and exciting; but now, with the good-looking driver's lover looking on, the gesture annoyed him. Johnny's hand tightened around his leg. Above and behind Tim, Ken Henderson looked on, smug and complacent. What did they want? A three-way? Or was one of the partners going to play the role of the voyeur? Tim liked Johnny's sexy manner, there was no getting around that. But his friend -- that was a different matter. His balls felt numb and totally uninspired. Maybe they were just exhausted from the day's workout -- whatever, he was turned off.
"Relax, kid." Sensing Tim's apprehension and distress, the truck's handsome driver slid his hand from the teenager's knee farther up the thigh, letting it come to rest just below his cock and balls. Tentatively, slowly, the long exploring fingers started to fondle his crotch. Tim squirmed uncomfortably and edged back in his seat; the determined hand moved right along with him. Then Johnny's big fingers tightened around his balls and squeezed. The easygoing smile on the trucker's face was gone, replaced by a hard, determined look.
Tim started to push the big hand away, but Johnny slowly shook his head sideways and grabbed his balls tighter in a pincer-like grip. The youth winced and stared at the man beside him with a surprised look. Johnny's initial playfulness had completely disappeared; his eyes bore in on him coldly. The teenager turned to Ken Henderson above him. He, too, had an unfriendly message for him; there was an almost feline look about Johnny's partner -- a look of patient determination. What kind of cat and mouse game were they playing with him?
"I guess I'm not very horny," Tim said coolly.
"We can fix that easy enough," purred the young relief driver. "No problem at all."
Tim swallowed hard and knit his eyebrows. He was more than a little afraid but determined not to show it. "I mean, it's not a matter of attitude. Jesus! It's just that my cock and ass are sore as hell, that's all."
"Pity." Ken reached down from his bunk and grabbed Tim by the shoulders. He started to knead the youth's back and neck, but there was something sinister abut the way the massage was going that gave Tim a chill. The hands dug into his breastbone, his neck, and his shoulders with deliberate force, almost pushing him through the cushion of his seat. The rubbing hurt. Johnny, too, had been working over Tim's crotch with equal vigor, squeezing on his balls, releasing them, then roughly grabbing his cock and doing the same.
"Pump up, dammit," Johnny cursed.
Feeling no response from Tim's stubborn, soft cock, he took both of his big hands and grabbed the bulge in the youth's denims, then closed his strong fingers, squeezing with all his strength.
"JESUS CHRIST!" Tim screamed, lunging down hard on Johnny's forearm with both of his fists. "Leggo my balls, dammit! You're killing me! Oh, Jesus!"
His hands struck repeatedly, furiously, but the determined truck driver completely ignored his pleas. Only when it finally pleased him to do so did he relent and let up on the viselike grasp he had on the teenager's cock and balls. Even then he grinned menacingly as he released the pressure with deliberate slowness.
There were tears in the corner of Tim's eyes as he spoke: "What the fuck you guys want, anyway? I told you I'm not interested in getting off! Lemme alone, dammit!" He shook his head, tossing his long hair back out of his eyes. "Besides, maybe I don't go for three-ways!"
Tim glanced hesitantly over his shoulder. The words had been meant for Ken Henderson, but the man behind him had ignored them, continuing his relentless massaging of his shoulders. Tim abruptly squirmed out of his grip.
"What's with you mother-fuckers? Don't you get the picture?"
"Maybe you don't get the picture, Tim." The voice of authority belonged to Johnny. He turned to his friend. "Little bastard really got off on a three-way back at the truck stop. Among other things, I'd say the kid's a liar."
Ken nodded. "Yeah. Tries to come off like an innocent babe turned out in the cold! We've played around with all kinds like that before, haven't we, Johnny?"
"Right on. Problem is, never know how far you can go with most of them. But I'd say Tim here likes to be abused and kicked around a little bit. Least back in that toilet he sure needed my cock."
Tim's face reddened. He slipped farther away from Johnny, momentarily escaping from his relentless, groping paw. "Look," he said, his anger measured, "you guys want to sit here awhile and get off, fine by me. I'll catch another ride, okay?"
Ken pushed the canvas curtain to the rest bunk all the way back. For the first time Tim saw that the relief driver had his pants pulled off and had a roaring hard-on. Half climbing out of the berth, Ken placed one hairy leg between Tim and the door, propping a foot on the plunger lock.
"You aren't going nowhere. Not until we say so. Get it?" he threatened.
Tim gazed fearfully at the ugly, half nude young man behind him, then over to Johnny.
The driver was busy unbuttoning his fly and didn't look up. Struggling with the monster prick caught down one leg of his pants, he squirmed repeatedly, lifted up off his seat, then finally had the big prick out in the open. It grew quickly in throbbing spasms and was soon every bit as large and mean-looking as it had appeared in the toilet compartment. But now it was free and uninhibited, not trapped by the tight, confining glory hole, ready and able to render whatever havoc its apparently sadistic master desired.
Tim looked down at the big cock for several seconds, still amazed at its size. It looked like a python on the prowl. Tim looked up. Considering the annoying, self-satisfied smirk on Johnny's face, he shuddered and dropped his head.
"I can't be screwed!" he stammered. "Shit, you almost killed me before!"
"What do you think, Kenny?" asked the man behind the wheel as he stroked his huge prick. "Want me to try again or not?"
Johnny knew it wasn't a real question; his tone had alerted his partner that he fully intended to do Goddamned well what he pleased regardless of Ken's opinion.
"Fuck!" grunted the second man. "If he can't even get it up, it isn't worth it! Can't say the kid's that exciting."
Johnny stared at Tim and pointed a thumb at his lover. "Ken's just upset. He only likes to get fucked and his asshole just can't handle my mule's meat."
"I'm not that particular about what I do in bed, dammit," lamented Ken. "Don't mind at all getting sucked off. You good at giving head, kid?"
Tim ignored the query, his eyes searching outside, trying to penetrate the dark highway. What there was of a new sickle moon was buried in a passing cloud; the pitch blackness of the night was broken only by the intermittent lights of the passing traffic. Tim wanted out, but there was no way. He was trapped between the two men -- even with one hell of a fight the odds were against him unless he found an opening to escape.
Johnny Bertoni was no fool. He had sensed Tim's fear and his frantic desire to escape; he knew he had the youth exactly where he and Ken wanted him. Tim Harding was no new game for them. They had worked his routine many times before -- it was a game where both lovers took turns instilling fear in their quarry. The longer they could prolong the misery, the better. Time itself increased the excitement. Ordinarily, Johnny would not have accepted no as any kind of response to his need for a good fuck. Freak of nature that his cock was, he would cruelly have gone in for the rape, his friend getting his rocks off by watching the sadistic action.
But Tim wasn't an ordinary pickup; the teenager was no longer a novelty but already broken in -- slightly tarnished, in fact. The real challenge was gone, for he'd already shot his wad up that pretty ass! Not that he couldn't handle it again -- it was just that the initial element of wild debauchery was gone.
"Get your pretty little lips around Ken's cock. Now!" Johnny ordered.
His friend hunched his hips forward over the back of the seat, thrusting his meat into Tim's face.
"Go for it, babe!" Ken shouted.
Tim grimaced, firmly squeezed his lips together, and turned his face to one side.
Instantly Johnny's huge open hand fell on the side of the youth's cheek. It was a harsh, stinging blow that knocked him all the way over against the door of the cab.
"Damn you bastards!"
Stunned, Tim's hand shot up to his rapidly reddening face. He glared back at his companions, eyes burning with contempt. He started to say something again but bit back the words. Keeping his silence, he turned his head away and made no effort to go down on the waiting stiff prick.
"Stubborn little bastard, isn't he?" growled Ken. With both hands he grabbed the teenager by the ears, pinched hard, and pulled him between his widespread legs.
"Now suck, God damn you!"
"Ouch! Leggo my ears, for Chrissakes!" Tim shouted, trying to pull away, but his nose was firmly planted in Ken's hot sweaty crotch. Ken pushed his head in farther, burying Tim's face in his balls. The man's swollen cock stood straight up, slapping repeatedly against Tim's eyes and forehead.
"Now lick it, you little asshole. Go ahead, get your wet mouth over my cock, you fucker!"
The youth savored the masculine sex odor and fought back a sudden, slight twinge of excitement in his own groin. Stubbornly, he turned his mouth aside.
Roughly, brutally, Ken thrust him away with such force the teenager hit his head on the dash. Then the spumed man above him took his bare foot and drove it against Tim's neck, pushing relentlessly, driving the teenager's head backward into the corner until his eyes bugged in their sockets and he let out a gasping, choking sound. Tim's hands flailed wildly at Ken's bare legs, scratching and pinching, until the older man grabbed his wrists and forced them down.
Then Johnny joined the scene, making a plunge for Tim's fly, tearing open the buttons, and digging for the youth's cock.
"I'll show you how to get this little Mother-fuck excited," he grunted, burying his face inside Tim's open jeans.
Instantly he had the teenager's soft cock and balls in his mouth, coating them with saliva, sucking and licking at each nut and eagerly, hungrily tonguing the cock from one end of the shaft to the other. Almost immediately, to the handsome truck driver's satisfaction, the young, delicious meat began to swell.
The more feverishly Johnny worked on Tim's cock and balls the less the youth struggled in Ken's grasp. Releasing the pressure of his foot on Tim's neck, the choking sounds stopped, but the youth's breath still came in short, labored gasps. Ken watched his captive wooden-faced, without a trace of remorse, all the while his lover sucked furiously on Tim's prick and nuts.
Johnny Bertoni yearned to have something as young, unblemished, and beautiful as Tim Harding on a permanent basis, but he knew it was beyond his wildest dreams. He was stuck with Ken, or better put, perhaps they were stuck with each other. If they had one thing in common, it was mutual sadistic delight in watching others suffer. Misery, they had learned very early in their affair, loves company. Tim was a breathtaking specimen of boyhood, a striking contrast to his lover, who was not only older, but scarred and every bit as jaded as he was wise. The comparison pained Johnny, pained him so much he almost resented the teenager. At the same time he felt a strong urge to flaunt the conquest in front of Ken, to rub the bewildered, wide-eyed youth into his partner's nose. For too long Ken had used him as bait for their three-ways, and Johnny resented it. But always in the end, their mutual needs had been satisfied, and though the relationship remained fragile at best, neither man had found anything better to replace it.
Slap! Slap! Ken stuck Tim twice again with the back of his hand. Then he thrust him down, flat on his back on the wide cab seat. Johnny had to move fast to get out of the way. Both men crowded over him, hot and eager, their cocks swaying threateningly over his face. The two lovers had to straddle each other clumsily to bring their stiff pricks together right over Tim's alarmed eyes. For several seconds the giant prick and the smaller cock beside it hovered over him, intimidating him.
Would they both try to fuck him in the mouth at the same time? God! He hoped not!
As if to answer his question, the two men tried to maneuver their bodies so they could easily do just that, but the cab of the truck was too confining. There wasn't room. Instead, they wiped the sticky, wet heads of their pricks over Tim's face, all along his trembling eyelids, over his cheeks, and back and forth across his lips. The youth's nostrils caught the sweet, pungent smell of sex oozing from the end of the cock-heads as they tickled his face. No longer could he restrain himself. Involuntarily, his body began to tremble all over; his crotch tickled with excitement. Once more he was caught up in furiously hating and fiendishly wanting the same thing! His mind blurred and he closed his eyes.
It was a mistake. Four strong slaps across the face in rapid succession brought his eyes wide open. They quickly, tearfully focused on Johnny, whose big hand was poised above him, ready for another stinging blow.
"Please," Tim whimpered softly, "don't hit me again!" His tear-stained face was red all over.
"Then open your fucking mouth! Wide!" Johnny commanded.
Ken scowled but dutifully eased back on his haunches to give his partner room to operate. "Open it! Wider!" he urged, finally deciding to urge his lover on by giving him a playful pat on the ass. "Johnny, I'll give you three to one odds you don't get more than three inches in his mouth."
The swollen head of Johnny's big prick buried itself in Tim's moist lips -- lips frighteningly small in comparison to the huge cock probing against them.
"It's too fucking big!" Tim pleaded, just before the big cock throttled his voice. His lips parted, forced and stretched to their utmost width as the enormous prick plunged inside his mouth, gagging him. At the same instant he felt gruff hands reach between his legs and grab his balls. Somewhere in back of Johnny came a coarse, mean laugh. It was Ken. He was sadistically pulling at his nuts, wrenching them and squeezing them together viciously in his palm.
Tim wanted to cry out, to scream bloody murder at the top of his lungs for the sharp, piercing agony, but his mouth was totally, cruelly preoccupied by Johnny's giant prick. His jaws were open as far as they would go and his lips felt bruised, almost to the point of being torn apart. He wanted to gag, but there wasn't even room for that!
"Eat my big sausage, baby. Eat it good!"
The intense, snarling voice belonging to Johnny. He pushed his huge cock farther inside the teenager's mouth until the hot, fat crown slammed against the back of Tim's throat. It wouldn't go an inch more.
Ken looked on, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Licking his lips, he began stroking his own cock.
Johnny suddenly shuddered all over. A massive charge of jizz spurted onto Tim's tongue and flooded back into the youth's throat, forcing him to choke or gulp it down. Trying desperately to avoid gagging, which he suspected would infuriate his tormentor, he swallowed frantically at the unbelievably huge load of cum, trying to get it all down. But there was too much. The hot, thick fuck-juice slithered all over his tongue, and as Johnny slowly withdrew the head of his spent cock, the jizz drooled down Tim's cheeks and chin like a river.
Hot and horny, Ken quickly pushed his lover away and was instantly at the teenager's face, licking and devouring Johnny's left-over cum with unabashed relish.
"That's the way, Ken boy!" cheered Johnny. "Lap it all up good, lover!" Then he turned to Tim's balls again and began to twist and squeeze.
"Christ! Stop it!" The youth shouted, cringing and trying to get his face away from Ken's insistent tongue.
"Stop it?" Johnny asked. "Oh, no, baby. We're just getting started!" His fingers tightened around Tim's balls as his partner plunged, like a hungry vampire, for the last drops of jizz on Tim's throat.
Suddenly Ken brought his knee up on the teenager's shoulder, pinned it down, and thrust his own cock in the youth's frightened face. He didn't try to insert the prick in Tim's mouth, but instead started to pound it off as fast and furiously as he could. All the while he let its big head rub back and forth across his captive's nose and cheek.
Johnny relaxed his grip on Tim's balls, but still the youth groaned. A new pain gripped him -- the agony at having to see, just inches away, the flaccid skin of Ken's belly ripple like Jell-O before him. Tim closed his eyes.
Johnny, the hunger of his own giant cock satisfied, had nuzzled his nose in Tim's crotch, where he sucked and licked slowly on the young, stiff prick.
With his eyes glued tightly shut, Tim's captivity was at least bearable. The more he thought about it the sensation was, in fact, electrifying. Tim suddenly found himself gently undulating his hips in rhythm to the truck driver's head-job. He was on the threshold of popping his nuts when ruthless, sadistic hands once more grabbed his balls and twisted. The pain was excruciating!
At the same time Ken Henderson shot off. Long streams of sticky white jizz spat across Tim's lips, eyes, and forehead. The hot cum was everywhere.
"Take it! Take it, you little bastard sonofabitch!" Ken shouted, taking his discharging swollen cock and rubbing his wet jizz all over Tim's face. Up, down, sideways he smeared the youth, covering his face with cum from hairline to chin. Tim screwed his eyes and mouth as tightly shut as he could, but still the jizz stuck in his nostrils and even his ears, and the fast drying stickiness made him flinch with discomfort.
But with Ken's orgasm, Johnny had eased off on his repeated, pincer-like squeezing of the teenager's balls. Tim's cock, still lodged in Johnny's hot, moist mouth, felt relieved and excited again. He was ready, eager to come and get the ordeal over with as soon as he could.
Johnny Bertoni recognized Tim's impatient need mid sadistically, selfishly withdrew his mouth from the anxious cock. He sat back and grinned.
"Look at the beautiful little Mother-fuck squirm, will you? Shit! At last he's all ready to get his rocks." Johnny, with deliberate slowness, turned to his lover. "Now what do you think about that?"
"I say we make the runt wait a little and earn it!"
Tim Harding wasn't in the mood to be called a runt. Nor was he in the mood for waiting or earning anything. The pressure was there now, and demanded relief. His right hand was over the head of his prick, gently rubbing the ridge of the crown and stroking the throbbing vein along the shaft. Then he started to whip his hand back and forth, faster and faster, until his balls danced. Before his two adversaries could say another word or stop him, his shoulders and hips were seized by a deep-rooted shudder. Thousands of little shock waves shot through his body as the exciting orgasm engulfed him. A long, pulsing stream of cum shot out the end of his cock, hitting the roof of the cab, splattering, and dripping back down.
Ken and Johnny looked on in amazement. They had never seen a prick twitch and fire a salvo of jizz with such force and distance.
"Jesus!" proclaimed Ken, gazing at the wet ceiling.
Tim slowly opened his eyes, his innermost gut needs satisfied. He looked first to Johnny, then over to Ken. Their stares had not changed, if anything they were more intense than ever! His wooly brain told him it was time to get the hell out of here, now, before a backhand slap across the face came out of nowhere. Tim's eyes darted to Johnny.
"Prick!" he shouted, not caring any more what additional wrath his rebellion might bring.
Johnny pointed a threatening finger in his direction. "You've got to learn to be patient, Tim baby. We'll decide when we want you to come, understand?" His eyes glowed with little red sparks. "Not nice of you to rush things along like that. Not nice at all."
Ken grinned and added a threat of his own: "Hell, we were only planning on playing master and slave for an hour or so. Looks like we'll have to spend the fucking night teaching you the game. How about it, kid? You get off on having two masters?"
Tim's eyes darted back and forth between the two men. "No, I don't," he said flatly.
Johnny edged over behind the rig's steering wheel and started fumbling under the driver's seat. "Damn it, Ken. Where the hell are the handcuffs?"
His partner scornfully shook his head and gestured with a thumb to the berth in back. "Exactly where we left them last week. The farm boy hitchhiker. Remember?"
Johnny's eyes shot fleetingly from Ken to the bunk curtains, then back again. "Well, don't just sit there with a shit-ass grin on your face. Go get the damn things and we'll have a little fun with junior here."
Ken spun around in the seat, hefted his hairy bare legs upward, and crawled in the dark berth, groping for the handcuffs.
It was the distraction Tim had been patiently waiting for. He knew just how far he had to reach to pull the plunger that locked the passenger side of the door. Thank God his pants were still on. No time now to worry over a spent prick and balls hanging out of his fly.
Instantly he had the truck door open, and half somersaulting, half falling, he leaped to the side of the roadbed. He struck the gravel, rolled, and quickly found his feet. His duffel! Hell with it, he cursed to himself.
Shouting broke from the inside of the cab.
"Goddamm, Ken, get back here! He's getting away!"
"Well, catch the bastard!"
"Without pants, for Chrissakes?"
Ignoring the swearing and shouting from the truck, Tim struck out down the side of the highway as fast as his feet would carry him. He put a full two hundred yards between himself and the bread van before he slowed to an easy trot, caught his breath, and buttoned his jeans.