Bent Fiction – The $10 Investment

yumBy Les Lea

        The police had been unhelpful… in a helpful kinda way.

My motorcycle had been stolen sometime between eleven pm and eight am whilst I slept soundly in my motel bedroom. As they pointed out; that’s nine hours, and whoever took it could be almost anywhere by now. I had to agree and though my intuition said somebody nearby had it there was no proof and I had no idea where to start looking. The cops suggested I went back home to New York and let the insurance deal with it.

I had been riding for three days on my way to meet up with my best friend, Dave, who had moved out to San Francisco. He’d invited me a couple of months earlier and told me that the first vacation I had to head west. That’s what I was doing before some bastard made off with my new Kawasaki. It was a present for my eighteenth birthday two weeks earlier. Now I was stuck in the middle of nowhere.

I thought about going home but a call to my parents to tell them what had happened only served to send me on my way. Ma was complaining about Pa’s drinking and my sister’s new boyfriend. In fact she had very little good to say about anyone. I’m not sure her Valium intake had levelled her out yet, so, as they say, it seemed pointless going home. I still had my money and a change of clothes in a small backpack I always kept with me.

A change of clothes actually meant a t-shirt and a pair of cut-offs and the money I reckoned would get me to San Francisco but it was no fortune. I decided I’d try and hitch-hike that way saving myself some money, and I figured, that as I was already well into the journey it would be the cheapest and quickest way to get me to my destination and Dave. I also figured by the time my insurance paid out I’d probably be an old man or at least my vacation would be over. So, by early afternoon I was out on the road in my t-shirt and cut-offs. My jeans, leather jacket and shirt in my backpack and my thumb trying for all it was worth to attract a lift.

One or two cars stopped and I got short lifts to help me on my way. At one point I got a ride that lasted about a mile. The guy was feeling me up almost as soon as I got in. His great hands fumbling for my dick trying to get past my tight cut-offs and into my jockeys. He was really grotesque and I didn’t like the smell of him. When I told him to quit it, as I wasn’t interested he just pulled over and pushed me out and told me to, “fuck off… did I think lifts were free?”

The day was disappearing fast and clouds were proclaiming that rain was on the schedule. It was a long while before any other traffic came my way and by that time I was soaked to the skin. The few drivers who did pass by seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the rain themselves. No one bothered to even slow down and I was getting very cold. My t-shirt was almost transparent and my shorts clung to my sweaty jockeys, which now clung to my body like a second skin. I didn’t like the idea of being stuck out in the open all night, so, when that large silver rig appeared in the distance I stuck out my ass as well as my thumb in the hope of getting a lift. As it approached it slowed down and after a few seconds, I presume the driver was appraising me, the door flew open and a voice told me to get in. I couldn’t see the driver from the road but as I heaved myself up into the passenger’s seat I was pleased to see what the owner of the voice looked like. He was big. I mean everything about him was BIG but in proportion. He wasn’t fat, far from it; I couldn’t see an ounce of fat on him. He just oozed muscle.

I said “Hi!” but he just looked me over for a couple of seconds and I think it was “Hi, I’m Tom” I heard growled back at me as he slammed the rig into gear and we drove off. The warmth of the cab soon brought my temperature up and steam rose from my clothes as I began to dry out. I relaxed a little and we talked. Well, actually I talked, he just sorta grunted a Yes or No or Maybe. He wasn’t threatening but I suppose just not really interested in an eighteen-year-old’s conversation. Anyway it gave me an excuse to look at him whilst I spoke and he was even better looking on closer inspection. He wore a pale yellow t-shirt that was stretched to its limits by the expanse of his chest. His pecs and nipples making mountains in the thin material. A pair of dark, heavy-duty jeans gripped his legs and a thick leather belt topped them. I felt that was more for show than to hold his jeans up and big boots banged on the pedals as he shifted gear.

His face? Well, I reckon he could have been in his thirties, perhaps even late thirties I’ve no real idea. He had short-cropped hair, a moustache (other than that he was clean-shaven), and very clear eyes I think were grey. He looked one serious dude, as my attempts at humour didn’t get much of a reaction. The heat in the cabin had made me drowsy and without a two-way conversation I eventually dozed off. The next thing I knew it was dark and we were pulling up at a diner where a few other trucks and cars had stopped. I apologised for dropping off but he didn’t seem to mind. He told me this was where he rested up for the night but, if I was desperate to be on my way, he was sure eventually I’d be able to get a lift, though he was far from convinced. However, he suggested, if I was hungry, I could join him for something to eat. I was ravenous so I jumped at the opportunity.

I went to the washroom first to clean up and whilst there began to wonder where I was going to spend the night. I wondered if I was expected to find a place for myself, or if I could share Tom’s bed in the cab of his rig where I assumed he’d be sleeping. It hadn’t been suggested or even vaguely hinted at… so maybe I should just find a room for myself somewhere. I checked the money I had and although I could probably have rented a room for the night, it would leave me without much in reserve. The washroom was fairly busy and as I washed my hands and face I could feel several people touching me, as they brushed past. I suppose my cut-offs were giving quite a good view of my ass as I bent over the sink. Happily, I began to feel that maybe finding a place for the night might not be too difficult after all. But at what price?

I’m not stupid and already knew I was gay, which was the reason for this trip in the first place, to meet up with my best friend Dave. We’d fooled around at college and I was really into him in a big way but he moved out west before we got down to anything heavy. We had just jacked each other off but never any real sex. I was a bit worried because I didn’t know what to do. Well I knew what to do but I wasn’t sure how to do it with another guy. What was expected of me? Who makes the first move? I thought I was smart enough to be able to sort those things out if and when the need arose.

I got to the table where Tom said he had already ordered a ten-dollar steak for me, as it was the best thing on the menu, but that if I wanted something else, he could manage two. I thanked him and said it sounded fine. He was a little more talkative now I suppose he didn’t have to worry about the road, rain and other drivers. As I finished my meal he asked me where I was staying the night. I said I didn’t know but expected I’d find a place. He said he’d just booked a room and there were two beds in it if I wanted one for the night. The thought of spending a night next to, or just in the same room, as this hunk made me jump at the offer. He generously paid the bill and gave me the keys to the room. He told me there was a shower if I needed it and that he’d be along shortly as he had a few calls to make and some business to sort out first.

The room was actually a little cabin set slightly away from the others and was cleaner than what I’d expected. I switched on the TV but there was something wrong with the hold and the picture just rolled around the screen. I laid out on one of the beds and wondered if Tom was expecting anything from me. He’d said nothing that made me think he would but I guess, in my mind, I thought some kind payment would be expected. In all honesty I thought I’d enjoy whatever he asked for.

I went to shower and let the hot water drive away any doubts. I spent a few minutes under the soothing jets, still wearing my jockeys. I like showering with my pants on, and I like it when the cotton clings to my ass and tackle. It’s also a horny way of washing them. I’d been lost under the warm jets when Tom came up behind me. Initially, I hadn’t heard him come in so it was something of a surprise but once I realised… I pretended I had no idea he was there. I sensed he was watching me and I must admit I quite liked the notion so I put on a little show. Slowly lathering my body with the gel provided but generally acting as if I was on my own. I turned to face him and pretended it was a shock to see him there. I need not have pretended… he was slowly unbuckling his belt to reveal pristine white CK briefs. Pretty soon he’d dispensed with them and stood buck naked in front of me. His whole body seemed to fill the shower room and my eyes couldn’t help but be filled with the spectacular dick hanging thick between his muscular thighs.

He moved in to join me under the warm spray. His sheer bulk had me backing against a wall as he moved against me. Without a word he put his hands on my shoulders and forced me to my knees. I was level with his immense, and now, very excited cock. It pointed at my mouth and, holding my head, he guided it to my lips. I was about to tell him I couldn’t possibly hope to handle it all but as soon as I opened my mouth to speak he pushed the tip in. His grip tightened on the sides of my head and I pulled back only for my head to bang against the wall. There was no escape. He moved his weight to his hips and leaned into me. My mouth wouldn’t widen any further and panic set in as he kept pressing his massive tool into my throat. I was gagging but he just kept on pushing. There was very little room for manoeuvre but he let me move my head slightly and the pain in my constricted throat eased. My jaw was locked, I couldn’t even bite the bastard, every sinew and muscle was stretched and tensed.

Slowly he began to withdraw it. I thought he must have seen the look of panic in my eyes but no, he just pulled it out a few inches then slammed it back in, ripping into the taut membranes at the back of my throat. He used his hands to rock my head backwards and forwards, faster and faster. The noise of my blood rushing about inside my head, the sound of the shower thunderously splashing down on me together with the grunts of satisfaction coming from Tom nearly made me pass out. I got my breathing under some kind of control when his pace grew faster and a few frenzied moments later he lunged his hips into my face. I was locked into position. I couldn’t move as his thick pubic bush ground into my face and his huge balls bounced against my chin. I could feel, by the pulsing of his dick in my throat, his cum being thrown up from the root of his cock, along its length and being discharged straight into my stomach.

One thought on “Bent Fiction – The $10 Investment

  • September 30, 2015 at 9:16 pm

    Good story,i bet now your glad that your bike was stolen because you seemed to have got a better ride,if you still had your bike you would have missed the ride of your life.

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