Truck Me All Night Long

by J. D. Walker

  “And that is?”

  “That you’re tired of one-night stands and you might actually prefer something regular, for a change, a little stability. Deep down, you’re lonely.”

  “Lonely? Me? Please.” Although…Well, no, I didn’t want to think about that right now. And this evening wasn’t supposed to be about me, anyway.

  I turned to face Adrian, one eyebrow raised. “How can I be lonely, friend, when I have you to bust my balls all the time?” He had the decency to blush.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I know you can’t help it when you get on that high horse of yours.” I gestured toward the kitchen. “You probably remember where everything is, so help yourself to a soda, or whatever.”

  I left the room to clean up and returned fifteen minutes later wearing snug faded jeans and a light blue fitted T-shirt. Brown Vans completed the outfit.

  Adrian whistled at me as he walked back into the living room from the kitchen. “Is this a date outfit? I thought we were just having a beer.”

  “This get-up is for the lucky guy I find after the beer. Soon as you head home to your committed relationship, I’ll be scoping for a fuck.”

  “Of course you will.” Adrian followed me to the door.

  “I can smell your disdain like a putrid aroma. Stop it. Let’s get that beer.” I locked up and got into Herc. Once Adrian backed up onto the street, I reversed down the driveway and led the way to my favorite watering hole and pick up bar, Jimmy’s.

  * * * *

  “Things still hot and heavy with you and Brandon?” I asked as we sipped our beer in a corner booth a while later. I’d bought us both burgers and fries for dinner, which we’d just finished. It was eight o’clock, and the crowd was just beginning to build up.

  “Yeah. The past two years have been great. He travels a lot, but we keep in touch while he’s gone, and when he’s here, it’s fabulous. Brandon’s not a morning person, though. He’s always bitchin’ that I get up before the damn birds.”

  “Huh.” I felt a twinge of something I didn’t want to recognize right then, so I shoved it aside. Probably just the day getting to me. I was sure I’d feel better once I found a tight hole to plug. “You trust him to keep it in his pants while he’s away?” I asked, smirking.

  “Of course I do—he’s not you,” Adrian replied.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I’ve known you for years, man. Your dick has plugged so many holes, it’s a wonder it hasn’t fallen off. You don’t do monogamy.”

  “Just because I don’t do the couple thing doesn’t mean I’m not capable of it. It just doesn’t interest me, right now. I like variety, and I like ‘em young.” Sometimes, I wanted to wring Adrian’s neck. Brandon must be a saint.

  “So you say.” Adrian took another sip. “Any prospects yet?”

  I almost choked on my beer. “Since when are you interested—?”

  “I’m just curious, is all,” he replied, a small smile on his face. “I want to see the ass master at work. Show me how you do it.”

  “You’ve picked up guys before. It’s no different than that, I’m sure.”

  “Maybe. I just want to watch you in action, is all.” Yeah, so you can have something else to use against me.

  “Whatever.”

  Wiping my mouth, I surveyed the bar and took note of the prospects. The men in here right now were my age or just a little bit younger, which was unusual for this time of night.

  “I don’t see anything yet.” I finished my beer.

  “Really?” Adrian asked. “What about that guy over there leaning against the bar? He’s hot.”

  I turned my head in the direction he indicated and checked the guy out. Yeah, he was handsome and slender, with his wavy brown hair, snug jeans and high, firm ass. He reminded me of Grant, actually. He even had dimples when he smiled. But he wasn’t what I wanted.

  “Not tonight.”

  “How so? Not young enough?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Uh-huh.” He scrutinized me for a minute. “What’s your deal with guys over a certain age?”

  “What are you harping on about now?”

  “Have you paid attention to your mirror lately, Trev? You’re no spring chicken, buddy. You may be tall and built rock solid. But no matter how good you are in the sack, or how ripped your muscles appear in tight shirts, pretty soon, even the young things will stop hooking up with you, unless they have a Daddy complex. Is that what you want? To be this pathetic letch preying on younger guys to make you feel like a big man?”

  “It’s not something I worry about,” I retorted, though I probably did, somewhere deep down near my toenail.

  “You should,” Adrian said.

  “God, what is with you tonight, Mr. High and Mighty? Just because your life is all peachy and perfect doesn’t give you the right to judge me. What works for you, what seems proper for you, may not work for everyone else. At least I’m honest about what I want. Any guy I’m with knows that, up front.”

  I had to admit to myself, however…There were a couple of guys recently who’d said “thanks, but no thanks, old man” to me. I’d blown them off with a “your loss, honey” line and moved on to the next guy, but inside, it had hurt.

  “One day, you’ll get it.” Adrian jumped a little in his seat, then reached into his pocket for his cellphone. He smiled and sent a quick text.

  “Brandon’s home.” He put the phone away, then stood. “Thanks for the beer, man. Here’s hoping you find the secret to a long life in a young, tight ass tonight.” With a little wave, Adrian was gone.

  I sat alone in the booth for a long time, lost in thought.

  * * * *

  “Goddamn, that’s the way!” I yelled as I pounded the very willing, tight hole of a guy no more than twenty-one in a bathroom stall, two hours later.

  I had still been in a funk after Adrian’s departure, and was determined to fuck my way out of it. When Matt had walked in—or should I say, swung his hips by my booth, I had gotten up to follow.

  “Buy you a drink?” I asked, as I leaned into his personal space.

  He looked me over and said, “How about a fuck instead?”

  “Done,” I replied, moving in to sample those pouty lips. He tasted like good sex should.

  “Name’s Matt,” he gasped a few seconds later, after investigating my tonsils.

  “Don’t care,” I responded. He chuckled as I pulled him into the bathroom and an empty stall, locking the door behind us.

  Now, Matt was leaning against the wall above the toilet with both legs around my waist, panting through the driving rhythm as I gave him what for.

  “That’s the way, Daddy!” he shouted. My rhythm faltered a little, and not because I was about to come. His words hit a little too close to home. God, why now?

  Matt tightened his legs around my waist and clenched my dick with his hole. “Come on, sexy. Don’t stop! Give it to me good.”

  I got my head back in the game and resumed the punishing pace from before. I pushed him harder into the wall, one of his hands holding onto my shoulder while the other gripped the top of the stall door.

  “Yeah, that’s what I want!” he yelled, then squeezed my dick real good as he came in the condom I’d put on him earlier while I’d sucked his dick a little. His orgasmic moans just made me pump harder into him, and then I filled my own condom with a shout.

  “Fuck!” I cried through the oh-so-good sensation of release. After a few seconds, I pulled out, holding onto the condom and stepped back a bit. Matt put his legs down, cleaned up with toilet paper, and adjusted his clothing. I removed the condom from my dick and wiped the cum away, then flushed everything down the toilet.

  Now that I was back in the present, I could hear the sounds of other guys going at it in the stalls around us. I smiled to myself and shook my head. A good fuck always made me forget where I was, and time seemed to stand still while I chased oblivion. I opened the door so Matt a
nd I could leave the stall and wash our hands at the sink.

  “That was a helluva fuck, baby. Thanks,” I said, when we went back into the bar area.

  “Glad you liked it,” Matt replied. “You looked like you needed a pick-me-up.”

  “Did I now?” Had he been watching me?

  “I saw you earlier, talking to that smoking hot guy that left.”

  So what am I, then?

  “The bartender told me you only did one-night-stands with guys around my age, so after your friend left, I kept my eye on you. You seemed a little down.”

  Oh no.

  “You felt sorry for me, is that it? You gave me a damn pity fuck?” Jesus.

  “Maybe.”

  I took a step back. I couldn’t believe this shit! This wasn’t supposed to happen to me—not yet. I wasn’t ready! Matt reached out to grab my upper arm before I could get away.

  “Hey, wait a minute! Look, honey. You’re older than my usual tryst, but I had it on good authority that you had a fat cock and your hot bod knew how to use it. You’re not handsome, but there’s just something about you, with the gray at your temples and sprinkled in your light brown hair. Those piercing hazel eyes of yours are gorgeous. I just wanted to make you feel better, if only for a little while. You understand?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  Matt hesitated a little before he continued, “You should know…The guys here, they talk about you, and it’s not good stuff, man. Like you’re a joke to them, you know? My advice to you? Find another bar with fresh meat or settle down with somebody, whatever the age. You don’t want to become a walking cliché, right? You deserve better than that. Take it for what it’s worth.”

  Matt kissed me on the cheek and left me standing there, in a state of shock.

  No way was Adrian right. I had to leave—now. I pushed through the crowd, exiting the bar as quickly as I could, trying to avoid the glances that before, I had thought were lusty come-ons but now seemed to be piteous stares or looks of disgust. Fuck.

  When I got outside in the humid air, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Fuck those hypocrites. I’ll find myself some other bar to have a good time.

  I started the truck and headed out on the freeway toward Stiffs, a trendy gay club that had sprung up in the last six months or so. I’d been there twice. I found a parking spot on a side street and walked to the entrance. I joined the line, which almost circled the block. Thursday nights were popular, apparently.

  Everyone in front of me or behind was in their mid-to-lower twenties, just what I needed to get me through the rest of the night. As I stood there, I heard snippets of the conversations around me.

  “Ohmigosh, this guy? He was like, thirty, or some shit. He tried to pick me up the last time I was here. I was like, as if, dude.” This tidbit came from a guy clad in a tight pink jumpsuit. Really?

  “I know what you mean, honey. I don’t get what these old guys want. Don’t they know they look desperate?” his friend, wearing a neon green sleeveless shirt and tight, velvet jeans, replied with a titter.

  More of the same came from the guys behind me, and after fifteen minutes of that, with the line barely moving, I gave in and left. While I walked away, I heard muffled snickers and things like, “Old farts tryin’ to kick it,” and my favorite, “Go back to geriatric-ville, dude.” That wasn’t a word, was it? Whatever this was, I’d had enough. Fuck you, Adrian, and all of you who feel the need to judge me. Fuck. You. All.

  I got home around eleven o’clock and went to bed, disillusioned with the world.

  * * * *

  “You’re ten minutes early. What, you didn’t fuck anybody last night?” Adrian taunted me on Friday morning as he handed over the day’s orders, and the truck keys.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I said, but without my usual devil-may-care flair. He noticed, of course.

  “What’s wrong?” Adrian stared like he was trying to see through me.

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t have to.” I walked to the trailer door and said, “Later,” as I left.

  The day didn’t get much better from there. Traffic was a bitch on the way to my first delivery, and then on the second stop, I had to wait a fucking hour for some dude with a power complex to turn up and forklift the damn order. I was close to losing it. Instead, I called Adrian to let him know I was delayed and why. He said he’d take care of it, then asked me if everything was okay.

  “I’m fine, all right? Drop it already,” I replied and hung up on him.

  I finally had breakfast at nine o’clock in the morning. It was Burger King this time, and my friend Shauna was the cashier.

  “You look like you need a lot of coffee, sweetie. Havin’ a bad day already?” she queried while ringing up my order of an ultimate breakfast platter, two sausage burritos, and a coffee. I might be pissed at the world, but I was still plenty hungry.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I groused as I handed over the cash.

  “Have a Minibon on me, okay? I’ll add it to your order.” Shauna handed me the change.

  “You’re a sweetheart,” I told her, smiling for the first time that day.

  “And don’t you forget it,” she replied with a wink.

  Once my order was ready, I sat in the Freightliner and ate my meal as quickly as possible. I was already behind and didn’t want to make it any worse.

  The third delivery was gravy, thankfully, which left me enough time to get to the last stop without mishap. It was Harry and Sons again, and since I’d gotten there in the middle of the afternoon, the place was really busy.

  I made my way carefully to my usual spot, and parked. I needed to see a friendly face, but Grant was nowhere in sight, which was unusual, and slightly disappointing. I went inside to the shipping department to let them know they had a delivery. Ten minutes later, as I sat waiting in the truck, Grant came around the corner on the forklift.

  “Hey, Grant,” I said, when I got out of the truck. I had already removed the tarp so he could get the order.

  “Trev.” Without another word, he got to work, quickly unloading the remaining pallets on the flatbed. Once he was done, I folded up the tarp and strapped everything down.

  When he approached me to exchange paperwork, I noted his disgruntled demeanor and asked, “You okay, man?”

  “Nothing to worry about. Just some shit.” For whatever reason, it made me unhappy to see him in such a bad mood. I decided not to think about why that was.

  “You sure? You seem…off, maybe.”

  “Since when do you care?” he snapped. I was taken aback by his sudden anger.

  “Chill, dude. Of course I care. I consider you a friend, you know?”

  “Really? Because we screwed once? That’s not a friend, Trev. That’s just a one-time fuck.”

  “Geez,” I said, completely floored. But, in retrospect, I probably deserved that. Grant sighed deeply and rubbed both hands up and down his face. He left behind streaks of dirt.

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve had a shitty day, and I just need it all to be over. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  “No, I’m sorry for…well, I’m just sorry.” I massaged the back of my neck, suddenly self-conscious. “You probably think I’m shallow and not capable of more than one-nighters, but I’d like to be a friend, if you’d let me. I don’t have that many and I’ve been thinking lately that I need a different outlook on life.” Hell, I’d beg, if I had to.

  Grant pierced me with those gorgeous eyes of his. “Why?”

  “Let’s just say I had an eye-opening experience recently that kinda shook me up. Friends?” I held out my hand to shake his. Please?

  Without hesitation, Grant shook my hand and said, “Friends.” He gave me a small smile then turned and walked back to the forklift.

  Before he could leave the lot, I asked, “Is it still okay to call you sometime, grab a beer?”

  “Yup,” he sai
d, then drove away. I felt lucky that he hadn’t turned me down.

  The perfect cap to my day came in the form of a state trooper pulling me over for a missing mud flap. Then he asked to check my log book. Thank God I’d updated it this morning while I waited at the second delivery stop. The trooper let me go with a warning, after making me sweat for twenty minutes. The last thing I did before I went back to ConcreteXpress was top off the fuel tank.

  I parked near the pit and took the time to clean out the rig, a weekly task to get rid of dust, mud, and trash. I preferred to have a decent-smelling ride come Monday morning.

  When I went inside the office trailer, Adrian was on a phone call and focused on his computer screen. Sounded like he was about to get a new client. I hung up the keys myself, threw the delivery receipts and carbon copies of my log book for the week on his desk, and headed out to my pickup truck. I was happy that the day was over, and I wouldn’t have to drive a big rig for the next two days.

  Before Herc and I could leave, however, someone knocked on the roof of my truck. It was Adrian.

  “Something you need, boss man?” I asked, with an emphasis on the need since I was ready to call it a day. Plus, I really didn’t want to talk to him ‘cause I was still raw from the last twenty-four hours.

  “You got a minute?”

  “What for?”

  “Come inside for a sec?”

  “Why?”

  “Look, just humor me, okay? Please?”

  “Fine.” I opened the door without waiting for him to back away. Good thing Adrian was pretty nimble.

  “Jesus, Trev. Warn a guy, would you?”

  “Let’s get this done, okay? I’m hungry and tired. It’s been a fucked-up day.” I followed him back to the trailer. Adrian sat behind his desk and I stood in front of it, arms crossed.

  “Okay, I’m here. What’s up?”

  “Would you sit down, at least?”

  “Is this gonna take long?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  “Fuck, you’re stubborn.”

  “That all you wanted to say to me? It’s not news.”

  “No, just…” Adrian ran his hands through his hair, which was usually a sign of stress, or an unpleasant task he was about to perform.