windstormy
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 20, 2005
- Posts
- 249
Requesting help from some experts...
I know this is already posted in the story index. What I'd like to do is go through what is posted and replace with edited versions. I asked my editor to help me with this, but she refuses because it has nothing to do with what they want to publish. Grrrr....
Anyways, I've already gone through and changed a lot of grammar, punctuation, etc. Would some of you take different pieces of it and look for what I missed, or give me ideas that would improve this chapter?
Thx,
Billy
The dark sky continued to rain down on him its icy rain and sleet. Clad in only a T-shirt, an open button-up shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, Jonathan turned to face the now scarce south bound traffic on I-75.
He stuck out his thumb and prayed someone would have mercy on him. The cold had truly saturated his very being with its relentless glacial fingers. He knew that if didn't get help fairly soon, he would freeze to death right there on the shoulder of the interstate.
A large blue Freightliner conventional, growled to a stop on the paved shoulder just before him. The passenger door popped open and he raced to its side.
"Come on up outta the cold, boy," the driver yelled. "What the hell are you doing out here on a day like this? Didn't you're mamma teach you better?"
"My mother is dead, sir," the youth returned solemnly, as he climbed into the cab.
"Well, no wonder..." The man was very irritated at his appearance. "You got no business out here on a day like this, son. You’ll catch your death."
"I got no where to go, sir," the youth admitted.
"Where the hell are you going then?" the man fussed, as he ground the gears starting back onto the road.
"Just wherever," Jonathan returned.
"Hmp," the man expressed coldly. "I wouldn't be out on a day like this."
"No one will let me sit in the truck stops and all. They keep running me off," Jonathan defended.
"I'll be damned," the man became slightly sympathetic.
"How can I repay you?" Jonathan asked, shivering in his cold wet clothes.
"Ah..." the man waved him off with a bit of a smile.”Just knowing you ain't out there freezin' your ass off is enough for me." The man grinned at him, then looked back to the road.
"I could do things for you?" Jonathan offered then.
"Yeah?" The man became interested. "Like what?"
"Fuel your truck for you? Wash it. Keep it neat and picked up. Sleep with you?" Jonathan knew he would do anything at this point. It would be no different than what he knew at home.
"What did you say?" The man's expression change dramatically.
"I said..."
The angry bite of the man's backhand forced his head against the back of the seat. He remained there feeling so very alone. So very confused he just had nothing left in him now. This was all he knew. It was all he had known all his life. When was it going to change? Who would save him from the abuse he kept getting from everyone he came in contact with?
The truck slowed to a stop on the shoulder once more. Reaching across Jonathan the man opened the passenger door, grabbed the youth and tossed him out onto the ground. Slamming the door, he began to roll without caring that Jonathan’s legs were in harm's way.
Jonathan rolled away from the trailer tandems, just before they would have crushed his legs under their cruel weight. Sitting on the frozen grass, he wept soundly for a short time and wished he had let the damn thing end his life completely.
Getting up slowly, he started southbound again. Not trying to get a ride now. He just hoped he died soon…and he hoped it would be a quick death.
Not too far behind Bruce adjusted the volume on his CB, hearing a snarling old voice complain about the youth's forwardness.
"I ain't never..." he was saying in the background.”That damn kid offered me a fuckin' blow job."
"Did he give it to ya?" some other driver asked in return.
"Hell no! I threw 'im outta my truck. I ain't got time for trash like that," the man stated.
"My, my, my." Bruce shook his head slowly and wished he were closer to crossing the Georgia State line. "Where is this poor kid?" he grabbed the mike and pressed the key with his thumb, asking over the air.
"I just threw 'im out at the 350 mile marker," the man returned.
"Damn," He said to himself, as he geared down to keep from hitting his brakes and slide on the icy road.
The weather was treacherous and that child would freeze to death soon, if someone didn't help him. It was a frigid twenty-three degrees out there. And that was before the wind-chill factor. In itself the wind had plunged the temperature outside to an incredibly cold ten degrees. The close to record cold in the state would soon kill the youth, if he didn't get to the kid very quickly.
Reaching for a cigarette, he lit it and hoped he could reach the youth before anyone else could—or that if they did, he could relinquish the boy from the driver easily. Of course he kind of knew, in the back of his mind, that no one else would pick him up now that they knew what the youth would do if given the go ahead.
Slowly he maneuvered his big black Peterbuilt down the road. Now not far from the Georgia line, Bruce smiled and knew no one had gotten the boy yet. They were keeping him posted on the youth's where abouts over the radio unaware. Running his long thin fingers through his even longer thick sandy hair, Bruce couldn't help but think of what the kid might be like beneath him.
"God damn!" someone called out on the radio. "His damn hair is frozen. He's got ice stuck to his face!"
"Shit," Bruce growled. "He'll freeze to death before I can get to him.” He said out loud to no one.
"He just fell on his knees," another came over the squawk box. "He's gettin' up kinda slow there."
"Damn it!" Bruce had to gear down again, as he maneuvered the rig around a curve.
Determined now, he gained a bit of speed and tried to get to the youth before he collapsed in the icy grass. He looked eagerly for the kid, as he crossed the line, hoping he made it in time to save him from such a cruel death.
The miles seemed long and were indeed hazardous. But he continued on his way just to pick up that one shattered and wayward life. Watching the mile markers go slowly by, Bruce finally caught a glimpse of the haggard youth.
His long dark hair hung down to his bottom, clumped in rods of ice. The top of his head was almost a solid frozen crown, shining, as he barely put one foot before the other. The plaid shirt and jeans he had on, appeared soaked and frozen at best. He had a gym-bag thrown over his shoulder, which seemed to drag as low as his outlook on life.
Slowly Bruce made his way onto the shoulder and geared down to bring the truck to a halt. The poor kid trudged onward, not aware that he had stopped. The man reached up his left hand, grasped the plastic covered cord and laid on the air horn, which startled the youth profoundly. As the kid turned, he saw the ghastly extent of the youth's demise.
His face was almost frozen in a sheet of ice. The bridge of his nose disappeared beneath the clump that had settled there. His lips were plum blue. The eyelashes had froze to his face so he couldn't close them. The front of his T-shirt and the shoulders of his over-shirt were fixed to his body.
"Damn, kid. You need an open invitation?" Bruce said, as he pulled the airbrake, put the truck in neutral and stood. Reaching across the truck, he opened the passenger door.
"Get your ass in here, Baby," the man called out.
Jonathan forced himself to move toward the door. It was all he could do to go just one more step. He shivered visibly, as he slipped on the icy step. Bruce reached down and hoisted the youth's weakened body into the warm cab.
"Damn, Baby. You're dying," the man observed when he felt the cold coming off the youth’s body. "Come to the bunk. I'll help you outta those clothes." Bruce reached to the console and turned up the heat, led the youth to the back of the cab, turning to face him.
Jonathan perused the bunk of the truck for a moment, noting the long curtains that divided the cab from the bunk and were tucked between the seats and cabinets. They were being held to the sides with straps that snapped to the walls. The walls and ceiling were covered with stitched padding of blue. Carpet covered the floor. The cabinets stood from floor to ceiling and on each side of the bunk and faced each other.
"Come 'ere. I ain't goina hurtchya." The man became urgent to get the frosty wet clothes off the youth. "Let's get these wet clothes off and get your body temperature up a bit." he tugged at the shirt and the youth winced, but came free. He tossed it onto the floor up front.
"Put your arms up," the man ordered gently, then rubbed the frozen parts of the T-shirt. He then gathered the tail of the shirt and pulled it up over the youth's head. His hair clattered from the frozen rods of ice that still clung there.
"Come 'ere." The man pulled the youth to his body and rubbed the youth's bottom, hips, thighs and even his privates. "Just thawin' the ice a bit so we can take these off," the man informed him, when the youth looked up at him in question.
Bruce unsnapped the jeans, then unzipped them carefully. He pushed them down over the youth's hips to his knees.
"Sit." Bruce ordered and urged him to do so, on the bunk. Getting on one knee, he removed the cold wet tennis shoes and socks, then the youth's jeans. He tossed them on the floor up front with the rest of his clothes.
Grabbing a towel from a closet to his right, he began patting the youth's wet, shivering body. Once he had completed that task, he wrapped the teen's head with it.
"Lay down. I'm gonna lay down with ya…get you warmed up," The man announced gently.
Jonathan weakly moved onto the air mattress that was stacked on top of the bunk mattress. He rested on his back and brought his hands to his chest, as his body quivered from the terrible cold he felt. His eyes followed the man's every move, as Bruce removed his shoes and socks, then started toward him with a serious expression.
"Don't touch your face, kid," the man ordered gently, as he hovered over the youth. "Just let the ice melt, okay." He tried to smile and again felt the cold coming off the kid's body.
Grabbing the comforter and blankets, he came down atop the youth and pulled the bedding over them both.
"There," the man whispered into Jonathan's ear. He kissed the ear lightly for fear it might break off from the ice that had formed there.
"Baby, you're frozen solid. I might have to take you to a hospital somewhere," he worried openly.
"No," Jonathan whispered shakily with a laryngitic voice.
"Don't you tell me 'no', kid. Damn it. Your sick already." The man knew it, when he heard the youth's voice.
"Please," Jonathan tried harder to be heard that only came out as a strained whisper.
"Hush, kid. Just hold onto me and get warm." The man stared down into the youth's face with concern.
Jonathan began to weep with the depth of his despondency. He looked away from the kind man and wished he were dead. Wishing the man would just grasp his head in his hands and quickly wrench his neck and bring an end to all his suffering and pain. His body jerked with the force of his hurt. It seemed nothing could save him from the plight he had been handed.
"Hey, hey. Save those tears. You need to keep your fluids inside. You need 'em right now." The man used a finger to move the youth’s head by planting it in the towel, not his skin. He made eye contact with the youth and smiled gently at him. "Hold me, kid. I won't hurt you, I promise," Bruce assured him.
Jonathan slowly eased his arms around the man. He could sense the man's honesty, as he stared into his eyes. But his intuition had failed him once or twice, or maybe he had not been listening. Still he had nothing more to loose, save his own life—and that; he was willing to give up at the moment. He surrounded the man in his arms and sensed the warmth of the man’s body saving him.
"What's yer name, kid?" the man's grin was warm, as he asked.
"Jonathan Bowman."
"How old are ya?"
"Eighteen."
"Naaa. You don't look over sixteen." The man's eyes narrowed a bit in disbelief.
"I got proof. In the pocket of my jeans." he pointed to the pile of wet clothing on the floor up front.
"Okay. I'll believe it when I see it, though."
"Whatever..." Jonathan looked away again.
Bruce could see the youth was disinterested in whether he believed it or not. He marveled if the kid really wanted to live.
"Name's Bruce Crawford. I'm thirty-six. I live here in Georgia."
"Really?" the youth's voice wheezed, as he looked back into Bruce’s face once more.
"Yep. On my way home as a matter of fact."
"Really? Need a companion?"
"Baby, I thought you'd never ask." the man smiled wide. "I'd love to have ya ride with me. It'll make things a bit more interesting in this big ol' lonely truck."
"I'll do anything you want."
"I know, Baby. I heard."
"Oh..." Jonathan looked away, having forgotten these guys talk on the radio openly about such things.
"You're not to sure you really want to, are you?" the man asked then.
"Oh, yeah. I am. Anything to get outta the cold."
The man laughed lightly, "Well, you came to the right truck. I've been lookin' for someone like you. Maybe we can work somethin' out between us. I could use a little piece every now and again. But I ain't messin' with ya 'till I know yer okay."
"Okay." Jonathan tried to smile a bit. He could understand the man's concern. Bruce didn't need to be catching anything from him. And it wouldn't be fair to the man, since he had been so very kind. "You gonna take me to a doctor to be sure first?"
"Yeah. My doctor. He's a pretty cool guy. You'd like 'im. I'm headed that way actually."
"Oh? When do you think we'll get there?"
"It'll take us a while the way the weather is."
"Oh." Jonathan appeared very disappointed now.
"Hey, chin up, kid. It'll be okay. I got much I can offer ya, if you'll just not do two things with me."
"What's that?" Jonathan's whisper became softer, as his condition worsened.
"Lie to me, or steal from me. I'll give ya anything you ask me for that I can give you. You want somethin', just ask. Don't steal from me, or I'll beat the shit outta ya."
Jonathan nodded, "Okay." He could understand his reasoning.
"You need to hush now. Your voice is worse. Just save it for now."
Jonathan nodded his answer.
as they silently they lie together, Bruce finally drifted off to sleep—until Jonathan began coughing. It was a croupy sound from deep in his chest. His entire body shook with the force of it.
The man knew then, he had to get the youth some attention as quick as he could.
"I'm gonna get goin'. See how far I can get 'fore dark. You can lay back here or come up front with me. I gotta blanket you could wrap up in. Oh..." He got up and replaced the covers. "My nephew gave me some clothes to give to donation. See if you can wear some of it. Here's a nice sweater…looks about yer size."
Bruce dug in several large brown paper bags for some jeans. "Put this T-shirt on underneath." he laid the shirt atop the sweater he had set aside. "Here..." he finally found the bag with the jeans in it. “Put these on…see if they fit." He placed them on top of the other clothes.
Jonathan threw the bedding back. unashamed of his body or for the man to see him naked. Bruce eyed him long, as Jonathan rolled onto his side and sat up weakly. Sighing long, as he heard his doctor's warning in his head, Bruce turned from the sight of the youth's vulnerable body and moved up front.
"Let me know when yer dressed," he called back to Jonathan and got into the driver's seat. Picking up the jeans, he found the kid's wallet. In it was a valid operator's license. And he had told him the truth...Jonathan was a legal adult, but he just looked so damn young.
He opened the passenger door briefly throwing out the soiled, wet, still freezing cold clothes.
Jonathan dressed as fast as his ailing body would allow. He dug in the bags and found some socks and a pair of tennis shoes. Putting them on, he moved up front with the man.
"Oh, I see you found the shoes. Did you find some socks in there too?" The man eyed the tight jeans on the youth. The prominent outline of the youth's maleness sent a tingle of arousal through him.
Jonathan nodded.
"Good." Bruce smiled strangely at the youth, as he turned in the seat and pushed in the clutch. His hand on the shifter, he moved it into position, then pushed in the tractor brake at which they slowly move forward. Jonathan watched the man easy the rig down the road. The conditions had become worse than before and it seemed they inched for hours on end.
Jonathan noted the man's features as he drove. His long sandy straight hair cascaded down his back and clung to his clothing from the static heat off his body. He had a long thin face with shapely eyebrows. The eyes were crystal blue—a color Jonathan had never seen before. His nose was straight and thin, the lips full curvaceous kissable lips. Jonathan smiled at him, as Bruce glanced toward him. The man appeared to know that Jonathan was studying him.
He could see the power and strength of the man in his neck, shoulders and arms. The man wasn't overly built. However, Jonathan could see he worked out somehow and had built his strength. Surmising in his own mind, that there was no doubt this man could rip him to shreds; he decided not to take anything from him unless Bruce gave it.
The man's waist was very trim. His thighs were firm and strong. It appeared he had not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. Jonathan almost couldn't wait to see the man undressed. It couldn't be helped but to wonder what he had hidden underneath the layers of clothing he had on.
He was clad in a soft sweater of earthen colors—cream, brown and tan. Underneath Jonathan could tell he had on a T-shirt, maybe even a sweat shirt over that. He had on jeans and a pair of work boots. It was evident the man wanted to be warm.
Jonathan stretched to look to the man's crotch. The curiosity was getting to him. Leaning forward a bit, he eyed between the man's thighs to see what he could see.
"Whatchya lookin' for?" the man teased knowingly. He could see the direction of Jonathan's stare and knew what he was looking at.
"Just lookin'," Jonathan returned Bruce’s smile, as their eyes met for a moment.
"You wanna really know?" the man asked then.
"Yeah." Jonathan returned glad the man was a bit open about it and to him.
"Come look. Just stay outta my windshield," he offered. "Fair is fair. I done seen yours," he added.
Jonathan's breathing altered a bit as an erotic sensation came over him. He tingled somewhat, as he stood and approached the man with only a step or two. Going down on his knees, he placed one hand on the arm of the seat the other on the man's thigh. Bruce placed his right hand on the youth's back and urged him closer.
"Let me put this up," Bruce spoke of the arm, Jonathan supported himself with.
The youth moved his hand and Bruce raised the arm of the chair. Now the youth placed that hand on the edge of the back of the seat. He leaned toward the steering wheel and eyed the outline of Bruce. Curiously, he moved his hand closer and on the inside of the man's thigh. Unashamed Jonathan touched him there and pressed his hand against the man to feel the size and length if he could.
"Take it out, boy…don't be shy. I doubt you are, but go ahead…help yourself," he spoke gently.
Jonathan undid Bruce’s jeans and released the flesh from its confines. He deftly stroked it and watched it swell quickly.
Not surprised at the thick length of the man, he couldn't help but want to taste of Bruce. Leaning closer, Jonathan was aware, as the man moved the steering wheel and column to give him more room to work. With his tongue, he teased the head gently, which drew a deep sigh from Bruce.
"Do it, Jonathan," The man urged him huskily and put a gentle hand on the youth's head with the thought that Jonathan would only tease him a little. He stroked the youth's head slowly, as he drove the rig even slower down the road.
Jonathan took Bruce into his mouth and drew on him hard. The man gasped and the vehicle swerved and slid dangerously on the icy road. Struggling to regain control, his face showed with terror and surprise at Jonathan's adept abilities.
"Just play with it, Baby. I can't take anything more while I'm driving. I'll wreck this bitch if you try to get me off," the man told him honestly, when he had gained control again.
Jonathan then decided he would just tease him, just a little. He took all of Bruce’s enormous cock into his mouth and pulled back gently this time, instead of sucking him. The man moaned lightly, as he did and pet Jonathan’s head again.
"That's nice, Jonathan. I think you and I could get along quite well," he spoke gently to him. "When I park this tin can, I'll let you do anything you want with it, except ride it. Okay?"
Jonathan nodded excitedly. He really wanted the opportunity to show the man what he could do to make him very happy.
And Jonathan would allow the man to do anything he liked, just to be fed and kept warm and dry for a while—maybe a shower here and there. As he moved down the shaft and took him into his throat the man groaned.
"Damn, baby. I can't wait to get the full treatment. You're not a rookie…I can see that," he commented "You're really makin' it hard for me to be a good boy here."
Jonathan laughed lightly, then coughed again. He had to back away because it wouldn't stop.
"Why don't you get in the seat, there. I'm pullin' into a truckstop. I gotta see just how good you are. There's bottled water behind yer seat. Get one and see if you can cool that cough a bit," the man stated.
Jonathan stood and looked behind the seat where he found a case of bottled water there. Grabbing one, he opened the cap, as he sat on the passenger seat. The man eased up the ramp to the stop sign. There he made a left turn and eased over the icy bridge. As Bruce moved the rig off the bridge, the two truck stops came into view.
He went to the light and turned left, then maneuvered the rig into the entrance. Passing the fuel isle, he started up a small incline and to the right.
The parking area was teaming with rigs of all shapes and sizes. Jonathan wondered if the man would find a place to park, it was so full.
Bruce drove up and down the rows of rigs, until he finally found a pull through. Slowly he maneuvered the vehicle into the space. Easing the heavy rig to a stop, he pushed in the clutch again and put the shifter into neutral. He then pulled the tractor brake only, ensuring the trailer brake did not pop out—doing so would keep the trailer airlines from freezing. When Bruce flipped a switch on the console, the engine idled up a bit.
"Now, pull this curtain all the way around," the man said, as he unsnapped the strap, to the left and behind the driver’s seat, that held it in place.
Jonathan moved to him and grasped the blue vinyl curtain, which was attached to tiny wheels in a track connected to the ceiling of the cab. It was much like the folded cardboard or vinyl sunblock pads that people used to cover their windshields with. Only this was more convenient, being attached to the track and could be pulled all the way around the cab of the truck.
Jonathan pulled the curtain gently until all the windows were covered. When he turned back around the man had turned and leaned his back against the door and window. He had his member in hand and stroked it slowly, a strange grin playing on his lips. Bruce silently beckoned to the youth with his free hand.
"Come show me whatchya got, Baby," the man almost whispered.
Jonathan eagerly went to him and went down on his knees where he moved between the man's thighs and relieved the hand of its slow work. Taking Bruce into his mouth again he drew hard, as he pulled back.
Bruce arched his head back and sucked air between his teeth, then sighed as the youth went down on the shaft once more. He gently petted the youth's head with a hand.
"That's good, Jonathan. Been a while since I had someone that knew what they were doin'," he admitted.
Jonathan tortured the man for a short time before truly working Bruce to an end.
"Oh, God. Baby, yer gonna make me shoot hard," he warned breathlessly. "It's comin'," he added. "God!" He tensed and grasped the youth's head in both hands. His head arched back, his mouth flew open and he all but howled his release to the entire parking lot.
"Yes, Baby!" he called out. "God that's good!" his voice quivered with his body.
As he calmed and his body relaxed, Bruce drew the youth up and sat Jonathan on his lap. Pulling the youth to him, he pressed his lips to Jonathan's. Easing his tongue into the youth’s mouth, he tested the waters and his hand traveled over the Jonathan’s body.
Jonathan's arousal soared, as Bruce's advances progressed. He didn’t stop the man in the least, but leaned on the steering wheel and gave Bruce more room to work.
The man followed him and knew by the silent signals that Jonathan wanted to be plundered. His hand glided over the length of the youth's thigh. Crossing over the knee it came back up the inside.
Jonathan's kiss became more urgent. He clung to the man's clothing threatening to rip something very soon.
Finally the hand pressed his throbbing manhood against his body. Bruce squeezed it gently, as he pressed the heel of his hand down the shaft. Rubbing Jonathan there, he could tell the youth was very near release. Loosening the jeans, he took the Jonathan’s maleness in hand stroking it adeptly.
Jonathan moaned into Bruce’s mouth, their kiss fervently heated. Though Jonathan was used to his partner taking the lead, he could sense Bruce wanted Jonathan to show him what was needed to gain satiation.
Moving his hips in rhythm to Bruce’s hand, he led the tempo that increased to a faster pace. He squirmed beneath the man's work and wished they were having full intercourse. But he dared not beg the man, not knowing if he was infected or not. He didn't want to incense Bruce by giving him some unwanted disease.
"Come on, Baby…relax. You're trying too hard," the man pulled back just enough to say.
His eyes traveled over the youth's face, as Jonathan stared back at Bruce with a pleading in his eyes.
"Oh, you tempt me so. I'd love to take your jeans down and ream you a good one. I know you want it, don't you, Baby?"
Jonathan nodded emphatically.
"Gees..." The man became irritated that he couldn't do it with the youth. "I wish I had some rubbers."
"Not safe," Jonathan admitted.
"No? You have something?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, you'd just rather play it safe, huh?"
"Yeah," the youth's voice had improved but only a bit.
"Okay. Can you relax and come for me? I want you to get off."
Jonathan's brow furrowed a bit.
"You're not used to being pleasured are you?"
"No. I always do that."
The man chuckled, "That changed as soon as you got up into my truck, Baby," Bruce informed him. "If I get off, you do too."
Jonathan nodded, his eyes welled a bit. He hugged the man as emotion swelled in his chest.
"There, now," Bruce cooed over him. "You're such a sweet thing. I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt you."
Now the youth broke into full tears. He had been hurt…and hurt terribly deep—not only from misunderstanding drivers, but by his own people…his family…or so-called family. And that was where all of this had all began…with his so-called family.
"Ah, Baby. What happened to you? Who hurt you so bad? Tell me," the man's voice broke a bit, as he asked.
"My Uncle," Jonathan almost wailed.
"What did he do to you? Did he rape you?"
Jonathan nodded.
Bruce groaned his displeasure at the knowledge of this. "Go ahead and cry it out, Baby." He abandoned the youth's manhood and enclosed Jonathan in his arms. Leaning back on the door and the window, he let the youth to cry out his deep hurt while he stroking the teen's head gently. His mind became a swirl of unanswered questions that he asked.
"Did he start molesting you early?"
Jonathan nodded again.
"How old were you?"
"Seven."
"Where were your mom and dad?"
Jonathan began crying more. "They died before I turned five."
The man sighed heavily. "So you were left to your Uncle?"
Jonathan nodded once more.
"Did he beat you?"
Another nod.
"Did you finish high school, Jonathan?"
Now he got a negative shake of the head.
"You ran away?"
Another nod.
Bruce understood now. He understood why the youth was out in the weather, hoping someone would come along and help him. Hoping someone would have mercy on him and feed him a morsel or two, let him warm himself in a bit of comfort, allow him a little rest unmolested.
"Baby, I'll take care of you. You'll never have to worry again, as long as you stay with me," the man pledged, as he gently rocked the youth from side to side. This seemed to calm the youth a bit, and it made Bruce know that, that was all the youth had hoped for. To have someone care for him just a little and find safety in the arms of someone who truly wanted him.
When Jonathan calmed completely, Bruce leaned him back over the steering wheel once more. Staring long into the youth’s eyes he gently touched Jonathan’s face with the backs of his fingers. He took in Jonathan’s facial features and couldn't understand why anyone would want to strike the kid. But the terrible bruise on the right side of the temple, eye and cheek told him a different story.
He was such a pretty little man with an oval face that had dark mysterious almond shaped eyes. The thin line of his eyebrows almost appeared to have been shaped by a professional. A small slightly rounded nose was turned up on the end just a bit. His lips were full and perfectly shaped. Even the outer lining of the lips was prominent. His chin was narrow and curved, the cheekbones were high. His inky black hair, now mussed from lack of care, fell down his back to his bottom.
He was thin from lack of nourishment, his skin pale with illness. The hands were small for a man, with long thin fingers. They looked more like a woman’s hands to Bruce. The arms and legs were long and slim. Anyone could tell that Jonathan was weak and fragile. Perhaps that was the reason people had taken such violent measures toward him, just because they easily could.
"You are very pretty, Jonathan. I just don't understand why anyone would want to hurt you so. But I promise you this...." he cupped a cheek in his large gentle hand. "...I will never hurt you the way you have been hurt. As long as you don't lie to me or steal from me, I will never raise a hand to you…unless you want me to," the man informed him just above a whisper.
Jonathan nodded and saw that Bruce meant every word. He smiled slightly. The man's face came so very close; he knew the moment they would kiss. And kiss they did.
Bruce wasted no time in arousing the youth a second time. He came to know that it was very easy to do so. Taking Jonathan’s manhood in his hand he stroked the flesh once more, this time meaning to pleasure Jonathan to the very end.
Keeping in rhythm with the man, Jonathan moved his hips slowly. He closed his eyes, reveling in the care in which the man handled him. Bruce was so very gentle with Jonathan; as if afraid he would break the kid in two. Holding him so very gently. Touching him so studiously. What more could Jonathan ask for?
Quickly his body rose with the stimulation the man gave him. The youth leaned further back and relaxed completely in this man's embrace. He no longer feared Bruce or felt there was a reason to fear him. All of his reservations had fled in the last hour or so. Now, Jonathan relished the feel of being pleasured and afforded himself the enjoyment of a climactic end.
Tossing his head back, he inhaled sharply. His body jerked once with the initial spasm. Trembling visibly, he moaned his pleasure to the man unashamed.
He watched as Bruce’s mouth opened slightly, delighting in his release. The look on his face was so intense; Jonathan knew the man had waited for this moment with so much anticipation. His eyes never darted away, nor did his head turn to watch the flow of his fountain. No…the man was engrossed in Jonathan’s facial orgasm…the sounds of his pleasure.
He seemed to almost join the boy in such pleasure, as if he were coming too. The man breathed with the same rhythm as Jonathan. He was fixed on the youth's very expressions, as if they told the entire story. And as the teen calm, he also settled. It was then that they both noticed the grip Jonathan had on the front of Bruce’s sweater.
"God, you're so very sweet, Jonathan. I want you to stay with me. I'll give you anything you desire, if you'll just stay with me," he pleaded, as he covered the relaxing hand of the youth.
Jonathan nodded slightly, as if to yield to the man's will.
Reaching passed the youth; Bruce grabbed a few napkins off the dash to clean his hand with. Yet he seemed to not want to move them from where they were. Once his hand was clean, he kissed the youth gently.
"Let's get you under some hot water, then feed you a good hot meal." Bruce moved to get up then.
Jonathan stood fixing himself back into the confines and zipped his jeans up once more. He moved so that Bruce could stand and do the same.
"Go look in one of those bags and get that jacket," the man ordered gently.
Jonathan went back into the sleeper and dug through each bag until he found it. Putting it on, he emerged and found that Bruce had already opened the curtain.
"Let's go." He opened the door climbing down out of the cab.
Jonathan followed him, stepping down weakly, but was quickly steadied by the man's strong hands. They made their way inside where Bruce purchase the youth a small shower bag and everything he would need to go in it. Then he ordered a shower.
Going down the hall of showers to the door with the number that had flashed on the TV screen overhead near the fuel desk, he punched in the numbers on the slip of paper in his hand followed by the star key. The door buzzed and he pushed it open.
Jonathan followed him in and closed the door behind them.
"Now..." Bruce put his own shower bag down and began undressing the youth. "You get under the water and get warmed up some more," he fussed over Jonathan, as if the youth were a small child.
But Jonathan did not dispute his word or his careful attentions, actually enjoying being fussed over for a change. Kicking off his shoes, he helped Bruce peel off the tight jeans. After removing his socks, he pattered toward the large shower.
Bruce followed him and turned on the water for him. He waited until the warm water began to flow, before he allowed the youth to get in, then adjusted it and made it quite warm for the teen.
Jonathan groaned at the feel of it.
"Nice, huh?"
"Yeah," he squeaked.
"Hmp. We gotta get you to a doctor. You are a sick little man." Bruce eyed him with concern.
Jonathan didn't argue with him this time, having had learned the last time not to do so. Still he feared the worse would come of it. The only thing he could do was pray for the best. Hopefully, his Uncle would not discover where he was. Just maybe he could live in peace for as long as the man would allow him comfort.
He turned his chilly face up into the warmth of the flood that poured over him. Looking over at the man who now undressed quickly, Jonathan now saw the ample strength of Bruce's upper body. His chest, shoulders and arms were very well defined, rippling as he moved with smoothness. As the man pushed his jeans down over his hips, Jonathan eyed the firm round buttocks, solid strong back, thighs and calves.
The man turned toward him, which Jonathan his smooth bare chest, abdomen and the truth of his full size and length. Jonathan's breath was caught in his throat as Bruce approached.
Unconsciously he moved back away from the man and stopped when his back met with the cold tiled wall of the shower. Watching, as the man's entire maleness swayed with his movements, he breathed in small quick snatches. The enormity of Bruce was incredibly intimidating to say the least.
Jonathan's eyes finally moved up the man's body to his face, noting the wicked grin that played on his lips. He wondered what the man meant to do to him and trembled as he clutched his hands to his chest, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the man to spin him around and plunge his manhood deep into him ruthlessly.
But Bruce only surrounded the youth in his arms and pulled Jonathan back under the showerhead, allowing the water to fall over them. He turned the youth directly under the water, facing the shower head wall.
Caressing the teen gently, he noted that Jonathan stood just a few inches from his lips. He himself being a tall six feet six inches, he surmised that Jonathan must be about six feet tall himself, give or take a couple inches.
Resting his chin on the top of the youths head, he felt Jonathan slowly wrap his arms around him, as if to yield to him. He looked down at the youth and turned Jonathan’s face up with a curled finger beneath the chin. There he saw the youth's fear and intimidation. Smiling he leaned down and grasped the back of Jonathan's head gently.
Planting his lips to the youth's, Bruce felt him tremble, as Jonathan opened to him. He slipped his tongue into the youth's mouth and explored it fully.
He sensed the teen's reserved surrender. Now he knew the youth would let him do whatever he liked, no matter how afraid he was. Yet he didn't understand the youth's sudden fear of him. Knowing he had done nothing to warrant the youth's fear, Bruce drew back a bit and stared down into his face.
"What are you afraid of, Jonathan?" he asked just above a whisper.
Jonathan's trembling escalated suddenly, as he then feared incensing the man with his answer. "Have you seen the size of that thing?" his laryngitic voice quivered terribly, as he spoke.
Bruce laughed aloud. "Baby, you have nothing to fear. I am not going to force you. I'm not even goin' there to start with…you know that. And when I finally do, I promise I won't hurt you," Bruce announced.
Jonathan's legs buckled, as relief came over him. Bruce tightened his hold abruptly and hoisted him up, laughing once more.
"You are a damn funny little man," he teased.
"I'm glad you think so." Jonathan smiled a bit into Bruce’s wanton face.
"I just wish I could take that ass right now. But I promised Greg I'd wait until the tests get back before I do that."
"Oh? Who's Greg?"
"My very close friend and doctor," Bruce smiled as he spoke.
*****
Bruce stopped the truck in front of the office, after he had dropped his load and trailer at the receiver, then called his doctor and explained the situation to Greg personally.
"Bring 'im in, Bruce. I'll see what I can do for him," his friend had told him.
Stepping into the sleeper where Jonathan lay curled up in the fetal position, he noticed the youth was perspiring profusely. Very gently, he petted the youth's head and the side of his face. Jonathan felt very warm to the touch.
"Jonathan," he spoke softly, but the youth did not respond.
Lifting the youth in his arms, Bruce cumbersomely got Jonathan out of the truck. He sat the youth on the passenger seat, grasped his waist and pulled him down, leaning him against the cab of the truck. Once out of the sleeper Jonathan awakened a bit and helped him as much as he could. Lifting Jonathan once more Bruce carried him into the office.
The woman at the desk was a bit alarmed at the condition of the youth. She led the man to the back and had Bruce stretch him out on an exam table.
The doctor entered the room, having seen Bruce carrying the teen in. He closed the door quickly to assess the youth's condition.
"Bruce, you'll never learn will you?" his friend fussed lightly.
"I think he'll be the last one, Greg," he pleaded with his eyes.
"You want the whole nine yards again?" the man put on a pair of latex gloves and hurried around to the youth, who moaned Bruce's name.
"Yes, if you would."
"Did you?"
"No. He wouldn't let me."
Greg looked at him strangely.
"He agreed with your warning," Bruce explained then.
"Oh. Smart kid." Greg looked down into the barely open eyes of the youth. "It's about time somebody takes my side on this." he smiled at Jonathan, then became worried, as the youth's eyes rolled back into his head. "Bruce, I need to admit him, he is sicker than you told me."
The man listened to the teen's chest with the stethoscope. "I think he has pneumonia…a bad case of it too."
"Okay, whatever it takes, Greg." Bruce wrung his hands, as he urgently watched his friend continue his examination of Jonathan. "I'll pay for everything," he told Greg.
"I'll put it in your name. Your insurance will cover most of it," the doctor didn't look up, as he opened the youth's mouth and looked at the back of his throat. "He may have bronchitis too. Clara, get him a chest x-ray. I want an I.V. started…and take a full venereal sample, including for AIDS," he ordered to the nurse that was in the room with them. "Swab the back of his throat…let's check for strep."
"Yes, sir," the woman quickly left the room.
"Bruce, if he lives through this I'll be surprised. He deadly sick. I may not be able to save him," the man confessed.
"Please, Greg…whatever it takes, do it." Bruce stepped to the table and stared his friend fully in the eyes. "You have to help him."
"I'll do my best." Greg stared back, surprised by the emotion Bruce exhibited.
"I'll give you anything you want, Greg. Just please, don't let him die," the man cupped Greg's cheek in his hand, as he spoke.
Greg leaned into the warm gentle touch of the man and closed his eyes as he did. His lips parted slightly and he sighed long at the feel of it.
Bruce quickly retrieved his hand, when Clara opened the door and entered, looking at the equipment in her hands. She hadn't seen the exchange, luckily. The two men eyed one another cautiously.
Clara moved around them and wrapped an elastic rubber strap around the youth's upper arm. She patted the teen's arm inside the elbow for a vein. When the blood vessel rose she swabbed the area with a tiny alcohol gauze. Pushing the vacuum tube apparatus into the skin, then the vein, she pushed the tube and locked it into place. It began to fill with blood. Once it was full she removed the apparatus placing a Band-Aid over the site. Filling out the paperwork she left once more.
I know this is already posted in the story index. What I'd like to do is go through what is posted and replace with edited versions. I asked my editor to help me with this, but she refuses because it has nothing to do with what they want to publish. Grrrr....
Anyways, I've already gone through and changed a lot of grammar, punctuation, etc. Would some of you take different pieces of it and look for what I missed, or give me ideas that would improve this chapter?
Thx,
Billy
The dark sky continued to rain down on him its icy rain and sleet. Clad in only a T-shirt, an open button-up shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, Jonathan turned to face the now scarce south bound traffic on I-75.
He stuck out his thumb and prayed someone would have mercy on him. The cold had truly saturated his very being with its relentless glacial fingers. He knew that if didn't get help fairly soon, he would freeze to death right there on the shoulder of the interstate.
A large blue Freightliner conventional, growled to a stop on the paved shoulder just before him. The passenger door popped open and he raced to its side.
"Come on up outta the cold, boy," the driver yelled. "What the hell are you doing out here on a day like this? Didn't you're mamma teach you better?"
"My mother is dead, sir," the youth returned solemnly, as he climbed into the cab.
"Well, no wonder..." The man was very irritated at his appearance. "You got no business out here on a day like this, son. You’ll catch your death."
"I got no where to go, sir," the youth admitted.
"Where the hell are you going then?" the man fussed, as he ground the gears starting back onto the road.
"Just wherever," Jonathan returned.
"Hmp," the man expressed coldly. "I wouldn't be out on a day like this."
"No one will let me sit in the truck stops and all. They keep running me off," Jonathan defended.
"I'll be damned," the man became slightly sympathetic.
"How can I repay you?" Jonathan asked, shivering in his cold wet clothes.
"Ah..." the man waved him off with a bit of a smile.”Just knowing you ain't out there freezin' your ass off is enough for me." The man grinned at him, then looked back to the road.
"I could do things for you?" Jonathan offered then.
"Yeah?" The man became interested. "Like what?"
"Fuel your truck for you? Wash it. Keep it neat and picked up. Sleep with you?" Jonathan knew he would do anything at this point. It would be no different than what he knew at home.
"What did you say?" The man's expression change dramatically.
"I said..."
The angry bite of the man's backhand forced his head against the back of the seat. He remained there feeling so very alone. So very confused he just had nothing left in him now. This was all he knew. It was all he had known all his life. When was it going to change? Who would save him from the abuse he kept getting from everyone he came in contact with?
The truck slowed to a stop on the shoulder once more. Reaching across Jonathan the man opened the passenger door, grabbed the youth and tossed him out onto the ground. Slamming the door, he began to roll without caring that Jonathan’s legs were in harm's way.
Jonathan rolled away from the trailer tandems, just before they would have crushed his legs under their cruel weight. Sitting on the frozen grass, he wept soundly for a short time and wished he had let the damn thing end his life completely.
Getting up slowly, he started southbound again. Not trying to get a ride now. He just hoped he died soon…and he hoped it would be a quick death.
Not too far behind Bruce adjusted the volume on his CB, hearing a snarling old voice complain about the youth's forwardness.
"I ain't never..." he was saying in the background.”That damn kid offered me a fuckin' blow job."
"Did he give it to ya?" some other driver asked in return.
"Hell no! I threw 'im outta my truck. I ain't got time for trash like that," the man stated.
"My, my, my." Bruce shook his head slowly and wished he were closer to crossing the Georgia State line. "Where is this poor kid?" he grabbed the mike and pressed the key with his thumb, asking over the air.
"I just threw 'im out at the 350 mile marker," the man returned.
"Damn," He said to himself, as he geared down to keep from hitting his brakes and slide on the icy road.
The weather was treacherous and that child would freeze to death soon, if someone didn't help him. It was a frigid twenty-three degrees out there. And that was before the wind-chill factor. In itself the wind had plunged the temperature outside to an incredibly cold ten degrees. The close to record cold in the state would soon kill the youth, if he didn't get to the kid very quickly.
Reaching for a cigarette, he lit it and hoped he could reach the youth before anyone else could—or that if they did, he could relinquish the boy from the driver easily. Of course he kind of knew, in the back of his mind, that no one else would pick him up now that they knew what the youth would do if given the go ahead.
Slowly he maneuvered his big black Peterbuilt down the road. Now not far from the Georgia line, Bruce smiled and knew no one had gotten the boy yet. They were keeping him posted on the youth's where abouts over the radio unaware. Running his long thin fingers through his even longer thick sandy hair, Bruce couldn't help but think of what the kid might be like beneath him.
"God damn!" someone called out on the radio. "His damn hair is frozen. He's got ice stuck to his face!"
"Shit," Bruce growled. "He'll freeze to death before I can get to him.” He said out loud to no one.
"He just fell on his knees," another came over the squawk box. "He's gettin' up kinda slow there."
"Damn it!" Bruce had to gear down again, as he maneuvered the rig around a curve.
Determined now, he gained a bit of speed and tried to get to the youth before he collapsed in the icy grass. He looked eagerly for the kid, as he crossed the line, hoping he made it in time to save him from such a cruel death.
The miles seemed long and were indeed hazardous. But he continued on his way just to pick up that one shattered and wayward life. Watching the mile markers go slowly by, Bruce finally caught a glimpse of the haggard youth.
His long dark hair hung down to his bottom, clumped in rods of ice. The top of his head was almost a solid frozen crown, shining, as he barely put one foot before the other. The plaid shirt and jeans he had on, appeared soaked and frozen at best. He had a gym-bag thrown over his shoulder, which seemed to drag as low as his outlook on life.
Slowly Bruce made his way onto the shoulder and geared down to bring the truck to a halt. The poor kid trudged onward, not aware that he had stopped. The man reached up his left hand, grasped the plastic covered cord and laid on the air horn, which startled the youth profoundly. As the kid turned, he saw the ghastly extent of the youth's demise.
His face was almost frozen in a sheet of ice. The bridge of his nose disappeared beneath the clump that had settled there. His lips were plum blue. The eyelashes had froze to his face so he couldn't close them. The front of his T-shirt and the shoulders of his over-shirt were fixed to his body.
"Damn, kid. You need an open invitation?" Bruce said, as he pulled the airbrake, put the truck in neutral and stood. Reaching across the truck, he opened the passenger door.
"Get your ass in here, Baby," the man called out.
Jonathan forced himself to move toward the door. It was all he could do to go just one more step. He shivered visibly, as he slipped on the icy step. Bruce reached down and hoisted the youth's weakened body into the warm cab.
"Damn, Baby. You're dying," the man observed when he felt the cold coming off the youth’s body. "Come to the bunk. I'll help you outta those clothes." Bruce reached to the console and turned up the heat, led the youth to the back of the cab, turning to face him.
Jonathan perused the bunk of the truck for a moment, noting the long curtains that divided the cab from the bunk and were tucked between the seats and cabinets. They were being held to the sides with straps that snapped to the walls. The walls and ceiling were covered with stitched padding of blue. Carpet covered the floor. The cabinets stood from floor to ceiling and on each side of the bunk and faced each other.
"Come 'ere. I ain't goina hurtchya." The man became urgent to get the frosty wet clothes off the youth. "Let's get these wet clothes off and get your body temperature up a bit." he tugged at the shirt and the youth winced, but came free. He tossed it onto the floor up front.
"Put your arms up," the man ordered gently, then rubbed the frozen parts of the T-shirt. He then gathered the tail of the shirt and pulled it up over the youth's head. His hair clattered from the frozen rods of ice that still clung there.
"Come 'ere." The man pulled the youth to his body and rubbed the youth's bottom, hips, thighs and even his privates. "Just thawin' the ice a bit so we can take these off," the man informed him, when the youth looked up at him in question.
Bruce unsnapped the jeans, then unzipped them carefully. He pushed them down over the youth's hips to his knees.
"Sit." Bruce ordered and urged him to do so, on the bunk. Getting on one knee, he removed the cold wet tennis shoes and socks, then the youth's jeans. He tossed them on the floor up front with the rest of his clothes.
Grabbing a towel from a closet to his right, he began patting the youth's wet, shivering body. Once he had completed that task, he wrapped the teen's head with it.
"Lay down. I'm gonna lay down with ya…get you warmed up," The man announced gently.
Jonathan weakly moved onto the air mattress that was stacked on top of the bunk mattress. He rested on his back and brought his hands to his chest, as his body quivered from the terrible cold he felt. His eyes followed the man's every move, as Bruce removed his shoes and socks, then started toward him with a serious expression.
"Don't touch your face, kid," the man ordered gently, as he hovered over the youth. "Just let the ice melt, okay." He tried to smile and again felt the cold coming off the kid's body.
Grabbing the comforter and blankets, he came down atop the youth and pulled the bedding over them both.
"There," the man whispered into Jonathan's ear. He kissed the ear lightly for fear it might break off from the ice that had formed there.
"Baby, you're frozen solid. I might have to take you to a hospital somewhere," he worried openly.
"No," Jonathan whispered shakily with a laryngitic voice.
"Don't you tell me 'no', kid. Damn it. Your sick already." The man knew it, when he heard the youth's voice.
"Please," Jonathan tried harder to be heard that only came out as a strained whisper.
"Hush, kid. Just hold onto me and get warm." The man stared down into the youth's face with concern.
Jonathan began to weep with the depth of his despondency. He looked away from the kind man and wished he were dead. Wishing the man would just grasp his head in his hands and quickly wrench his neck and bring an end to all his suffering and pain. His body jerked with the force of his hurt. It seemed nothing could save him from the plight he had been handed.
"Hey, hey. Save those tears. You need to keep your fluids inside. You need 'em right now." The man used a finger to move the youth’s head by planting it in the towel, not his skin. He made eye contact with the youth and smiled gently at him. "Hold me, kid. I won't hurt you, I promise," Bruce assured him.
Jonathan slowly eased his arms around the man. He could sense the man's honesty, as he stared into his eyes. But his intuition had failed him once or twice, or maybe he had not been listening. Still he had nothing more to loose, save his own life—and that; he was willing to give up at the moment. He surrounded the man in his arms and sensed the warmth of the man’s body saving him.
"What's yer name, kid?" the man's grin was warm, as he asked.
"Jonathan Bowman."
"How old are ya?"
"Eighteen."
"Naaa. You don't look over sixteen." The man's eyes narrowed a bit in disbelief.
"I got proof. In the pocket of my jeans." he pointed to the pile of wet clothing on the floor up front.
"Okay. I'll believe it when I see it, though."
"Whatever..." Jonathan looked away again.
Bruce could see the youth was disinterested in whether he believed it or not. He marveled if the kid really wanted to live.
"Name's Bruce Crawford. I'm thirty-six. I live here in Georgia."
"Really?" the youth's voice wheezed, as he looked back into Bruce’s face once more.
"Yep. On my way home as a matter of fact."
"Really? Need a companion?"
"Baby, I thought you'd never ask." the man smiled wide. "I'd love to have ya ride with me. It'll make things a bit more interesting in this big ol' lonely truck."
"I'll do anything you want."
"I know, Baby. I heard."
"Oh..." Jonathan looked away, having forgotten these guys talk on the radio openly about such things.
"You're not to sure you really want to, are you?" the man asked then.
"Oh, yeah. I am. Anything to get outta the cold."
The man laughed lightly, "Well, you came to the right truck. I've been lookin' for someone like you. Maybe we can work somethin' out between us. I could use a little piece every now and again. But I ain't messin' with ya 'till I know yer okay."
"Okay." Jonathan tried to smile a bit. He could understand the man's concern. Bruce didn't need to be catching anything from him. And it wouldn't be fair to the man, since he had been so very kind. "You gonna take me to a doctor to be sure first?"
"Yeah. My doctor. He's a pretty cool guy. You'd like 'im. I'm headed that way actually."
"Oh? When do you think we'll get there?"
"It'll take us a while the way the weather is."
"Oh." Jonathan appeared very disappointed now.
"Hey, chin up, kid. It'll be okay. I got much I can offer ya, if you'll just not do two things with me."
"What's that?" Jonathan's whisper became softer, as his condition worsened.
"Lie to me, or steal from me. I'll give ya anything you ask me for that I can give you. You want somethin', just ask. Don't steal from me, or I'll beat the shit outta ya."
Jonathan nodded, "Okay." He could understand his reasoning.
"You need to hush now. Your voice is worse. Just save it for now."
Jonathan nodded his answer.
as they silently they lie together, Bruce finally drifted off to sleep—until Jonathan began coughing. It was a croupy sound from deep in his chest. His entire body shook with the force of it.
The man knew then, he had to get the youth some attention as quick as he could.
"I'm gonna get goin'. See how far I can get 'fore dark. You can lay back here or come up front with me. I gotta blanket you could wrap up in. Oh..." He got up and replaced the covers. "My nephew gave me some clothes to give to donation. See if you can wear some of it. Here's a nice sweater…looks about yer size."
Bruce dug in several large brown paper bags for some jeans. "Put this T-shirt on underneath." he laid the shirt atop the sweater he had set aside. "Here..." he finally found the bag with the jeans in it. “Put these on…see if they fit." He placed them on top of the other clothes.
Jonathan threw the bedding back. unashamed of his body or for the man to see him naked. Bruce eyed him long, as Jonathan rolled onto his side and sat up weakly. Sighing long, as he heard his doctor's warning in his head, Bruce turned from the sight of the youth's vulnerable body and moved up front.
"Let me know when yer dressed," he called back to Jonathan and got into the driver's seat. Picking up the jeans, he found the kid's wallet. In it was a valid operator's license. And he had told him the truth...Jonathan was a legal adult, but he just looked so damn young.
He opened the passenger door briefly throwing out the soiled, wet, still freezing cold clothes.
Jonathan dressed as fast as his ailing body would allow. He dug in the bags and found some socks and a pair of tennis shoes. Putting them on, he moved up front with the man.
"Oh, I see you found the shoes. Did you find some socks in there too?" The man eyed the tight jeans on the youth. The prominent outline of the youth's maleness sent a tingle of arousal through him.
Jonathan nodded.
"Good." Bruce smiled strangely at the youth, as he turned in the seat and pushed in the clutch. His hand on the shifter, he moved it into position, then pushed in the tractor brake at which they slowly move forward. Jonathan watched the man easy the rig down the road. The conditions had become worse than before and it seemed they inched for hours on end.
Jonathan noted the man's features as he drove. His long sandy straight hair cascaded down his back and clung to his clothing from the static heat off his body. He had a long thin face with shapely eyebrows. The eyes were crystal blue—a color Jonathan had never seen before. His nose was straight and thin, the lips full curvaceous kissable lips. Jonathan smiled at him, as Bruce glanced toward him. The man appeared to know that Jonathan was studying him.
He could see the power and strength of the man in his neck, shoulders and arms. The man wasn't overly built. However, Jonathan could see he worked out somehow and had built his strength. Surmising in his own mind, that there was no doubt this man could rip him to shreds; he decided not to take anything from him unless Bruce gave it.
The man's waist was very trim. His thighs were firm and strong. It appeared he had not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. Jonathan almost couldn't wait to see the man undressed. It couldn't be helped but to wonder what he had hidden underneath the layers of clothing he had on.
He was clad in a soft sweater of earthen colors—cream, brown and tan. Underneath Jonathan could tell he had on a T-shirt, maybe even a sweat shirt over that. He had on jeans and a pair of work boots. It was evident the man wanted to be warm.
Jonathan stretched to look to the man's crotch. The curiosity was getting to him. Leaning forward a bit, he eyed between the man's thighs to see what he could see.
"Whatchya lookin' for?" the man teased knowingly. He could see the direction of Jonathan's stare and knew what he was looking at.
"Just lookin'," Jonathan returned Bruce’s smile, as their eyes met for a moment.
"You wanna really know?" the man asked then.
"Yeah." Jonathan returned glad the man was a bit open about it and to him.
"Come look. Just stay outta my windshield," he offered. "Fair is fair. I done seen yours," he added.
Jonathan's breathing altered a bit as an erotic sensation came over him. He tingled somewhat, as he stood and approached the man with only a step or two. Going down on his knees, he placed one hand on the arm of the seat the other on the man's thigh. Bruce placed his right hand on the youth's back and urged him closer.
"Let me put this up," Bruce spoke of the arm, Jonathan supported himself with.
The youth moved his hand and Bruce raised the arm of the chair. Now the youth placed that hand on the edge of the back of the seat. He leaned toward the steering wheel and eyed the outline of Bruce. Curiously, he moved his hand closer and on the inside of the man's thigh. Unashamed Jonathan touched him there and pressed his hand against the man to feel the size and length if he could.
"Take it out, boy…don't be shy. I doubt you are, but go ahead…help yourself," he spoke gently.
Jonathan undid Bruce’s jeans and released the flesh from its confines. He deftly stroked it and watched it swell quickly.
Not surprised at the thick length of the man, he couldn't help but want to taste of Bruce. Leaning closer, Jonathan was aware, as the man moved the steering wheel and column to give him more room to work. With his tongue, he teased the head gently, which drew a deep sigh from Bruce.
"Do it, Jonathan," The man urged him huskily and put a gentle hand on the youth's head with the thought that Jonathan would only tease him a little. He stroked the youth's head slowly, as he drove the rig even slower down the road.
Jonathan took Bruce into his mouth and drew on him hard. The man gasped and the vehicle swerved and slid dangerously on the icy road. Struggling to regain control, his face showed with terror and surprise at Jonathan's adept abilities.
"Just play with it, Baby. I can't take anything more while I'm driving. I'll wreck this bitch if you try to get me off," the man told him honestly, when he had gained control again.
Jonathan then decided he would just tease him, just a little. He took all of Bruce’s enormous cock into his mouth and pulled back gently this time, instead of sucking him. The man moaned lightly, as he did and pet Jonathan’s head again.
"That's nice, Jonathan. I think you and I could get along quite well," he spoke gently to him. "When I park this tin can, I'll let you do anything you want with it, except ride it. Okay?"
Jonathan nodded excitedly. He really wanted the opportunity to show the man what he could do to make him very happy.
And Jonathan would allow the man to do anything he liked, just to be fed and kept warm and dry for a while—maybe a shower here and there. As he moved down the shaft and took him into his throat the man groaned.
"Damn, baby. I can't wait to get the full treatment. You're not a rookie…I can see that," he commented "You're really makin' it hard for me to be a good boy here."
Jonathan laughed lightly, then coughed again. He had to back away because it wouldn't stop.
"Why don't you get in the seat, there. I'm pullin' into a truckstop. I gotta see just how good you are. There's bottled water behind yer seat. Get one and see if you can cool that cough a bit," the man stated.
Jonathan stood and looked behind the seat where he found a case of bottled water there. Grabbing one, he opened the cap, as he sat on the passenger seat. The man eased up the ramp to the stop sign. There he made a left turn and eased over the icy bridge. As Bruce moved the rig off the bridge, the two truck stops came into view.
He went to the light and turned left, then maneuvered the rig into the entrance. Passing the fuel isle, he started up a small incline and to the right.
The parking area was teaming with rigs of all shapes and sizes. Jonathan wondered if the man would find a place to park, it was so full.
Bruce drove up and down the rows of rigs, until he finally found a pull through. Slowly he maneuvered the vehicle into the space. Easing the heavy rig to a stop, he pushed in the clutch again and put the shifter into neutral. He then pulled the tractor brake only, ensuring the trailer brake did not pop out—doing so would keep the trailer airlines from freezing. When Bruce flipped a switch on the console, the engine idled up a bit.
"Now, pull this curtain all the way around," the man said, as he unsnapped the strap, to the left and behind the driver’s seat, that held it in place.
Jonathan moved to him and grasped the blue vinyl curtain, which was attached to tiny wheels in a track connected to the ceiling of the cab. It was much like the folded cardboard or vinyl sunblock pads that people used to cover their windshields with. Only this was more convenient, being attached to the track and could be pulled all the way around the cab of the truck.
Jonathan pulled the curtain gently until all the windows were covered. When he turned back around the man had turned and leaned his back against the door and window. He had his member in hand and stroked it slowly, a strange grin playing on his lips. Bruce silently beckoned to the youth with his free hand.
"Come show me whatchya got, Baby," the man almost whispered.
Jonathan eagerly went to him and went down on his knees where he moved between the man's thighs and relieved the hand of its slow work. Taking Bruce into his mouth again he drew hard, as he pulled back.
Bruce arched his head back and sucked air between his teeth, then sighed as the youth went down on the shaft once more. He gently petted the youth's head with a hand.
"That's good, Jonathan. Been a while since I had someone that knew what they were doin'," he admitted.
Jonathan tortured the man for a short time before truly working Bruce to an end.
"Oh, God. Baby, yer gonna make me shoot hard," he warned breathlessly. "It's comin'," he added. "God!" He tensed and grasped the youth's head in both hands. His head arched back, his mouth flew open and he all but howled his release to the entire parking lot.
"Yes, Baby!" he called out. "God that's good!" his voice quivered with his body.
As he calmed and his body relaxed, Bruce drew the youth up and sat Jonathan on his lap. Pulling the youth to him, he pressed his lips to Jonathan's. Easing his tongue into the youth’s mouth, he tested the waters and his hand traveled over the Jonathan’s body.
Jonathan's arousal soared, as Bruce's advances progressed. He didn’t stop the man in the least, but leaned on the steering wheel and gave Bruce more room to work.
The man followed him and knew by the silent signals that Jonathan wanted to be plundered. His hand glided over the length of the youth's thigh. Crossing over the knee it came back up the inside.
Jonathan's kiss became more urgent. He clung to the man's clothing threatening to rip something very soon.
Finally the hand pressed his throbbing manhood against his body. Bruce squeezed it gently, as he pressed the heel of his hand down the shaft. Rubbing Jonathan there, he could tell the youth was very near release. Loosening the jeans, he took the Jonathan’s maleness in hand stroking it adeptly.
Jonathan moaned into Bruce’s mouth, their kiss fervently heated. Though Jonathan was used to his partner taking the lead, he could sense Bruce wanted Jonathan to show him what was needed to gain satiation.
Moving his hips in rhythm to Bruce’s hand, he led the tempo that increased to a faster pace. He squirmed beneath the man's work and wished they were having full intercourse. But he dared not beg the man, not knowing if he was infected or not. He didn't want to incense Bruce by giving him some unwanted disease.
"Come on, Baby…relax. You're trying too hard," the man pulled back just enough to say.
His eyes traveled over the youth's face, as Jonathan stared back at Bruce with a pleading in his eyes.
"Oh, you tempt me so. I'd love to take your jeans down and ream you a good one. I know you want it, don't you, Baby?"
Jonathan nodded emphatically.
"Gees..." The man became irritated that he couldn't do it with the youth. "I wish I had some rubbers."
"Not safe," Jonathan admitted.
"No? You have something?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, you'd just rather play it safe, huh?"
"Yeah," the youth's voice had improved but only a bit.
"Okay. Can you relax and come for me? I want you to get off."
Jonathan's brow furrowed a bit.
"You're not used to being pleasured are you?"
"No. I always do that."
The man chuckled, "That changed as soon as you got up into my truck, Baby," Bruce informed him. "If I get off, you do too."
Jonathan nodded, his eyes welled a bit. He hugged the man as emotion swelled in his chest.
"There, now," Bruce cooed over him. "You're such a sweet thing. I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt you."
Now the youth broke into full tears. He had been hurt…and hurt terribly deep—not only from misunderstanding drivers, but by his own people…his family…or so-called family. And that was where all of this had all began…with his so-called family.
"Ah, Baby. What happened to you? Who hurt you so bad? Tell me," the man's voice broke a bit, as he asked.
"My Uncle," Jonathan almost wailed.
"What did he do to you? Did he rape you?"
Jonathan nodded.
Bruce groaned his displeasure at the knowledge of this. "Go ahead and cry it out, Baby." He abandoned the youth's manhood and enclosed Jonathan in his arms. Leaning back on the door and the window, he let the youth to cry out his deep hurt while he stroking the teen's head gently. His mind became a swirl of unanswered questions that he asked.
"Did he start molesting you early?"
Jonathan nodded again.
"How old were you?"
"Seven."
"Where were your mom and dad?"
Jonathan began crying more. "They died before I turned five."
The man sighed heavily. "So you were left to your Uncle?"
Jonathan nodded once more.
"Did he beat you?"
Another nod.
"Did you finish high school, Jonathan?"
Now he got a negative shake of the head.
"You ran away?"
Another nod.
Bruce understood now. He understood why the youth was out in the weather, hoping someone would come along and help him. Hoping someone would have mercy on him and feed him a morsel or two, let him warm himself in a bit of comfort, allow him a little rest unmolested.
"Baby, I'll take care of you. You'll never have to worry again, as long as you stay with me," the man pledged, as he gently rocked the youth from side to side. This seemed to calm the youth a bit, and it made Bruce know that, that was all the youth had hoped for. To have someone care for him just a little and find safety in the arms of someone who truly wanted him.
When Jonathan calmed completely, Bruce leaned him back over the steering wheel once more. Staring long into the youth’s eyes he gently touched Jonathan’s face with the backs of his fingers. He took in Jonathan’s facial features and couldn't understand why anyone would want to strike the kid. But the terrible bruise on the right side of the temple, eye and cheek told him a different story.
He was such a pretty little man with an oval face that had dark mysterious almond shaped eyes. The thin line of his eyebrows almost appeared to have been shaped by a professional. A small slightly rounded nose was turned up on the end just a bit. His lips were full and perfectly shaped. Even the outer lining of the lips was prominent. His chin was narrow and curved, the cheekbones were high. His inky black hair, now mussed from lack of care, fell down his back to his bottom.
He was thin from lack of nourishment, his skin pale with illness. The hands were small for a man, with long thin fingers. They looked more like a woman’s hands to Bruce. The arms and legs were long and slim. Anyone could tell that Jonathan was weak and fragile. Perhaps that was the reason people had taken such violent measures toward him, just because they easily could.
"You are very pretty, Jonathan. I just don't understand why anyone would want to hurt you so. But I promise you this...." he cupped a cheek in his large gentle hand. "...I will never hurt you the way you have been hurt. As long as you don't lie to me or steal from me, I will never raise a hand to you…unless you want me to," the man informed him just above a whisper.
Jonathan nodded and saw that Bruce meant every word. He smiled slightly. The man's face came so very close; he knew the moment they would kiss. And kiss they did.
Bruce wasted no time in arousing the youth a second time. He came to know that it was very easy to do so. Taking Jonathan’s manhood in his hand he stroked the flesh once more, this time meaning to pleasure Jonathan to the very end.
Keeping in rhythm with the man, Jonathan moved his hips slowly. He closed his eyes, reveling in the care in which the man handled him. Bruce was so very gentle with Jonathan; as if afraid he would break the kid in two. Holding him so very gently. Touching him so studiously. What more could Jonathan ask for?
Quickly his body rose with the stimulation the man gave him. The youth leaned further back and relaxed completely in this man's embrace. He no longer feared Bruce or felt there was a reason to fear him. All of his reservations had fled in the last hour or so. Now, Jonathan relished the feel of being pleasured and afforded himself the enjoyment of a climactic end.
Tossing his head back, he inhaled sharply. His body jerked once with the initial spasm. Trembling visibly, he moaned his pleasure to the man unashamed.
He watched as Bruce’s mouth opened slightly, delighting in his release. The look on his face was so intense; Jonathan knew the man had waited for this moment with so much anticipation. His eyes never darted away, nor did his head turn to watch the flow of his fountain. No…the man was engrossed in Jonathan’s facial orgasm…the sounds of his pleasure.
He seemed to almost join the boy in such pleasure, as if he were coming too. The man breathed with the same rhythm as Jonathan. He was fixed on the youth's very expressions, as if they told the entire story. And as the teen calm, he also settled. It was then that they both noticed the grip Jonathan had on the front of Bruce’s sweater.
"God, you're so very sweet, Jonathan. I want you to stay with me. I'll give you anything you desire, if you'll just stay with me," he pleaded, as he covered the relaxing hand of the youth.
Jonathan nodded slightly, as if to yield to the man's will.
Reaching passed the youth; Bruce grabbed a few napkins off the dash to clean his hand with. Yet he seemed to not want to move them from where they were. Once his hand was clean, he kissed the youth gently.
"Let's get you under some hot water, then feed you a good hot meal." Bruce moved to get up then.
Jonathan stood fixing himself back into the confines and zipped his jeans up once more. He moved so that Bruce could stand and do the same.
"Go look in one of those bags and get that jacket," the man ordered gently.
Jonathan went back into the sleeper and dug through each bag until he found it. Putting it on, he emerged and found that Bruce had already opened the curtain.
"Let's go." He opened the door climbing down out of the cab.
Jonathan followed him, stepping down weakly, but was quickly steadied by the man's strong hands. They made their way inside where Bruce purchase the youth a small shower bag and everything he would need to go in it. Then he ordered a shower.
Going down the hall of showers to the door with the number that had flashed on the TV screen overhead near the fuel desk, he punched in the numbers on the slip of paper in his hand followed by the star key. The door buzzed and he pushed it open.
Jonathan followed him in and closed the door behind them.
"Now..." Bruce put his own shower bag down and began undressing the youth. "You get under the water and get warmed up some more," he fussed over Jonathan, as if the youth were a small child.
But Jonathan did not dispute his word or his careful attentions, actually enjoying being fussed over for a change. Kicking off his shoes, he helped Bruce peel off the tight jeans. After removing his socks, he pattered toward the large shower.
Bruce followed him and turned on the water for him. He waited until the warm water began to flow, before he allowed the youth to get in, then adjusted it and made it quite warm for the teen.
Jonathan groaned at the feel of it.
"Nice, huh?"
"Yeah," he squeaked.
"Hmp. We gotta get you to a doctor. You are a sick little man." Bruce eyed him with concern.
Jonathan didn't argue with him this time, having had learned the last time not to do so. Still he feared the worse would come of it. The only thing he could do was pray for the best. Hopefully, his Uncle would not discover where he was. Just maybe he could live in peace for as long as the man would allow him comfort.
He turned his chilly face up into the warmth of the flood that poured over him. Looking over at the man who now undressed quickly, Jonathan now saw the ample strength of Bruce's upper body. His chest, shoulders and arms were very well defined, rippling as he moved with smoothness. As the man pushed his jeans down over his hips, Jonathan eyed the firm round buttocks, solid strong back, thighs and calves.
The man turned toward him, which Jonathan his smooth bare chest, abdomen and the truth of his full size and length. Jonathan's breath was caught in his throat as Bruce approached.
Unconsciously he moved back away from the man and stopped when his back met with the cold tiled wall of the shower. Watching, as the man's entire maleness swayed with his movements, he breathed in small quick snatches. The enormity of Bruce was incredibly intimidating to say the least.
Jonathan's eyes finally moved up the man's body to his face, noting the wicked grin that played on his lips. He wondered what the man meant to do to him and trembled as he clutched his hands to his chest, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the man to spin him around and plunge his manhood deep into him ruthlessly.
But Bruce only surrounded the youth in his arms and pulled Jonathan back under the showerhead, allowing the water to fall over them. He turned the youth directly under the water, facing the shower head wall.
Caressing the teen gently, he noted that Jonathan stood just a few inches from his lips. He himself being a tall six feet six inches, he surmised that Jonathan must be about six feet tall himself, give or take a couple inches.
Resting his chin on the top of the youths head, he felt Jonathan slowly wrap his arms around him, as if to yield to him. He looked down at the youth and turned Jonathan’s face up with a curled finger beneath the chin. There he saw the youth's fear and intimidation. Smiling he leaned down and grasped the back of Jonathan's head gently.
Planting his lips to the youth's, Bruce felt him tremble, as Jonathan opened to him. He slipped his tongue into the youth's mouth and explored it fully.
He sensed the teen's reserved surrender. Now he knew the youth would let him do whatever he liked, no matter how afraid he was. Yet he didn't understand the youth's sudden fear of him. Knowing he had done nothing to warrant the youth's fear, Bruce drew back a bit and stared down into his face.
"What are you afraid of, Jonathan?" he asked just above a whisper.
Jonathan's trembling escalated suddenly, as he then feared incensing the man with his answer. "Have you seen the size of that thing?" his laryngitic voice quivered terribly, as he spoke.
Bruce laughed aloud. "Baby, you have nothing to fear. I am not going to force you. I'm not even goin' there to start with…you know that. And when I finally do, I promise I won't hurt you," Bruce announced.
Jonathan's legs buckled, as relief came over him. Bruce tightened his hold abruptly and hoisted him up, laughing once more.
"You are a damn funny little man," he teased.
"I'm glad you think so." Jonathan smiled a bit into Bruce’s wanton face.
"I just wish I could take that ass right now. But I promised Greg I'd wait until the tests get back before I do that."
"Oh? Who's Greg?"
"My very close friend and doctor," Bruce smiled as he spoke.
*****
Bruce stopped the truck in front of the office, after he had dropped his load and trailer at the receiver, then called his doctor and explained the situation to Greg personally.
"Bring 'im in, Bruce. I'll see what I can do for him," his friend had told him.
Stepping into the sleeper where Jonathan lay curled up in the fetal position, he noticed the youth was perspiring profusely. Very gently, he petted the youth's head and the side of his face. Jonathan felt very warm to the touch.
"Jonathan," he spoke softly, but the youth did not respond.
Lifting the youth in his arms, Bruce cumbersomely got Jonathan out of the truck. He sat the youth on the passenger seat, grasped his waist and pulled him down, leaning him against the cab of the truck. Once out of the sleeper Jonathan awakened a bit and helped him as much as he could. Lifting Jonathan once more Bruce carried him into the office.
The woman at the desk was a bit alarmed at the condition of the youth. She led the man to the back and had Bruce stretch him out on an exam table.
The doctor entered the room, having seen Bruce carrying the teen in. He closed the door quickly to assess the youth's condition.
"Bruce, you'll never learn will you?" his friend fussed lightly.
"I think he'll be the last one, Greg," he pleaded with his eyes.
"You want the whole nine yards again?" the man put on a pair of latex gloves and hurried around to the youth, who moaned Bruce's name.
"Yes, if you would."
"Did you?"
"No. He wouldn't let me."
Greg looked at him strangely.
"He agreed with your warning," Bruce explained then.
"Oh. Smart kid." Greg looked down into the barely open eyes of the youth. "It's about time somebody takes my side on this." he smiled at Jonathan, then became worried, as the youth's eyes rolled back into his head. "Bruce, I need to admit him, he is sicker than you told me."
The man listened to the teen's chest with the stethoscope. "I think he has pneumonia…a bad case of it too."
"Okay, whatever it takes, Greg." Bruce wrung his hands, as he urgently watched his friend continue his examination of Jonathan. "I'll pay for everything," he told Greg.
"I'll put it in your name. Your insurance will cover most of it," the doctor didn't look up, as he opened the youth's mouth and looked at the back of his throat. "He may have bronchitis too. Clara, get him a chest x-ray. I want an I.V. started…and take a full venereal sample, including for AIDS," he ordered to the nurse that was in the room with them. "Swab the back of his throat…let's check for strep."
"Yes, sir," the woman quickly left the room.
"Bruce, if he lives through this I'll be surprised. He deadly sick. I may not be able to save him," the man confessed.
"Please, Greg…whatever it takes, do it." Bruce stepped to the table and stared his friend fully in the eyes. "You have to help him."
"I'll do my best." Greg stared back, surprised by the emotion Bruce exhibited.
"I'll give you anything you want, Greg. Just please, don't let him die," the man cupped Greg's cheek in his hand, as he spoke.
Greg leaned into the warm gentle touch of the man and closed his eyes as he did. His lips parted slightly and he sighed long at the feel of it.
Bruce quickly retrieved his hand, when Clara opened the door and entered, looking at the equipment in her hands. She hadn't seen the exchange, luckily. The two men eyed one another cautiously.
Clara moved around them and wrapped an elastic rubber strap around the youth's upper arm. She patted the teen's arm inside the elbow for a vein. When the blood vessel rose she swabbed the area with a tiny alcohol gauze. Pushing the vacuum tube apparatus into the skin, then the vein, she pushed the tube and locked it into place. It began to fill with blood. Once it was full she removed the apparatus placing a Band-Aid over the site. Filling out the paperwork she left once more.
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