He was in heaven. Endless, empty highway unrolled in front of him, winding across the desert toward the distant peaks. The night wind swept away the growl of his engine and whipped his long black ponytail into tangles. He had met a few other vehicles on the road. He’d left them choking on the dust from his bike. Now he was alone, blazing along Route 12 like the legendary bat out of hell. The speed, the darkness, the freedom – he loved every minute of it.
He couldn’t quite recall, right now, where he was going. It didn’t matter. Power surged through his engine; power roared through his veins. The night pulsed with dark possibility. It was enough.
How long had he been on the road? He wasn’t sure, but all at once he was thirsty. A beer was what he really craved, but coffee would do. He scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization, squinting against the wind. Aside from the skinny crescent moon dangling above the mountains, he saw no lights. But there, on the left, was a sign, rusted but hanging pretty straight, advertising the Oasis Diner five miles ahead.
Nick grinned to himself. Somehow he always managed to get what he wanted.
The Oasis Diner was an island of neon in the blackness of the desert. Above the roof, a lime-green palm tree flicked on and off. The dusty parking lot held a battered Ford pickup and a gleaming tractor-trailer rig, dripping with chrome. Nick whistled appreciatively as he pulled his Harley up next to the semi. Nice to see someone who knew how to take care of his rig.
A grizzled Mexican behind the counter wiped down the glass cabinet fronts and the ice box, slowly and deliberately as if he had all the time in the world. Which, seeing that it was long after midnight in the middle of nowhere, he probably did. The only other customer sat on one of the stools, finishing off a plate of steak and eggs.
Nick planted his tight, jeans-clad butt on the stool next to the sandy-haired guy in the plaid shirt. “That your rig out there?”
The man looked up and smiled warmly. “Yup. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
“Sure is. Yours, or do you lease?”
“Mine, one hundred percent. That rig represents most of my life savings, but hell, she’s worth it.”
“I’ll bet she is.” Nick turned to the Mexican waiting on the other side of the formica surface. “You got any beer?”
“Sorry, you gotta go to a package store for alcohol in this state.” What state was this, anyway? “Closest one’s in Ely, but it’s only open till ten.”
“Okay, never mind. Gimme a coffee. Please.” Nick remembered to smile. People always reacted well to his grin. It made him look boyish and charming, and tended to balance the effects of his rough features and tattoos.
The proprietor shuffled off in slow motion toward the coffee pot. Nick turned back to his neighbor, who was licking his full lips after a last swallow of hash browns.
“Food good here?”
The truck driver chuckled. “I wouldn’t know. I was so hungry I could have been eating cardboard and thought it was the best meal I ever had.” They laughed together. Nick felt a pleasant little flutter deep in his gut. “Actually, I’ve never been here before. There was a detour off I-80 twenty miles past Elko and somehow I got a bit turned around. Kind of embarrassing for a professional truck driver. Anyway, I was glad for a rest and a bite. What about you? What are you doing out here in the back of beyond?”
Nick searched his memory. The emptiness there made him feel a bit queasy, but he pushed the feeling away. “Oh, just driving. I love the open road. You know how it is.”
Nick looked into the driver’s eyes, and saw that indeed, he did know, about the freedom and the miles rolling away. He relaxed and held out his hand. “I’m Nick, by the way.”
“Glenn. Pleased to meet you, Nick.”
“Likewise.”
The Mexican returned with a steaming mug. “You want something to eat? I’m shutting down the griddle.”
“No thanks, just the coffee.”
Glenn swiped his napkin across his lips and stood up. “How much do I owe you?” he asked the cook.
“Eight fifty.”
Nick watched the driver fish around for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. He liked the way the denim went taut against Glenn’s muscles. The guy was solid, big but not fat, with arms that strained the flannel of his shirt and thighs like tree trunks. He looked formidable, but there was something open, almost innocent about his face, with his baby blue eyes and the hint of a dimple in his chin. Nick felt that flutter again, moving down, settling in his groin. It became more frenetic, from a lazy swirling of butterflies to a swarming of angry bees.
Nick’s own tight jeans became even more constricting.
“You taking off?”
“Yeah, I’d better. I’m supposed to be in Vegas by dawn.” Glenn threw his denim jacket over one shoulder. “Just got to hit the can first. Nice to meet you, Nick.”
“Yeah.” Nick was preoccupied with watching Glenn’s buttocks as he strode towards the men’s room. Damn, it had been a long time. How long, he didn’t know, and he tried not to worry about that fact. It was easy to forget, with the lust that was boiling in his veins.
The Mexican was deeply involved in dismantling and cleaning the grill. Nick slipped off his stool and followed Glenn out to the back.
The door was unlocked. Glenn stood in front of the urinal, shaking the last few drops off his cock. Nick shut the door quietly and locked it behind him, then sidled up close to the truck driver, who looked up in surprise.
“Nick? I’ll be done in a second...”
Nick reached out and grasped the other man’s cock. It wasn’t erect, not yet, but it was meaty enough to make Nick’s mouth water.
“I don’t want to pee. I want something else.” He began sliding his palm up and down over Glenn’s length, which increased from moment to moment.
“What – what are you doing?” Glenn tried to back away, but the room was too small for him to go far.
“What do you think? I’m turning you on. Getting you hard. Getting you ready.”
Glenn swallowed nervously, but he didn’t stop Nick from massaging his penis.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Uh – um ... I’m not queer.” Despite himself, Glenn’s pelvis jerked forward whenever Nick squeezed particularly hard.
“Of course you’re not. I never said you were. A man out on the open road, week after week, a man like you, gets hungry. Needs satisfaction.” Nick smeared some fluid leaking from Glenn’s cock over the swollen bulb. Glenn gasped.
“I just want to satisfy your hunger. And mine.”
Without warning, Nick dropped to his knees and swallowed the whole impressive length of driver’s now-erect cock. Glenn groaned and shook as Nick sucked like a tornado on the swollen organ.
Nick grabbed Glenn’s hips, digging his fingers into the denim stretched across the other man’s butt. He used his grip to work the man’s cock in and out. Glenn tried to be passive, to act as though he didn’t want this, but without much success. Before long he was slamming his rod down Nick’s throat, up to the very root. Nick opened wide, breathing through his nose, savoring the salty, funky taste that came from hours sitting behind the wheel of a big rig.
This was so damned hot! Nick felt the thunderbolt tattoo across his cheekbone start to burn, like it always did when he was turned on. Still clutching Glenn’s ass with one hand, he reached down to unzip and pull out his own cock. He stroked himself in time with Glenn’s thrusts. The pace quickened as they both drew closer to coming.
All pretense gone, Glenn drilled his cock into Nick’s mouth. Nick gagged. Lust and anger rose together. Handsome, husky, All-American, I’m-not-queer Glenn. Even as Glenn fucked his face, Nick pictured himself dragging the driver’s pants to his knees and flipping him against the wall. He could imagine what it would be like, pulling those round, solid cheeks apart and ramming himself into the dark, tight hole between them. Sure, at first Glenn would scream and tell him to stop, but before long he’d be begging for Nick to give it to him deeper, harder...
The cum exploded from his shaft, spattering white on the navy blue expanse of Glenn’s thighs. Glenn gave a yell as his spunk flooded Nick’s mouth. Pleasure tinged with pain shot through Nick’s body, spiraling out from his groin to his extremities. Still shaking with orgasm, Nick looked up at Glenn.
The man’s eyes were wide open. He stared back at Nick, his face showing shock and regret even as he pumped the last spurts of semen onto Nick’s tongue. All at once Nick knew what Glenn was thinking and feeling, the confusion, the guilt, the physical pleasure that made it all the more unbearable...
Then, suddenly, there was agony, stabbing through Nick’s belly, tearing at his limbs. He heard glass shattering, horns blaring, the squeal of tires on pavement. The air smelled of exhaust, iron, burning rubber, burning flesh. He was blinded by the pain, his eyes glued shut by the sticky blood that poured down his face, but at the same time he could see. There was a crumpled form on the blacktop, twisted up with the ruins of a motorcycle; a tractor-trailer jackknifed across a two-lane road; the strobes and flashing beacons of police cars and an ambulance.
He was rushing away, speeding higher, the pain still there but growing more remote, when the faces started: a pretty blond woman with freckles and tears streaming down her cheeks; a dark haired, solemn little boy; an older woman, graying and emaciated, holding him with desperate eyes. He didn’t know them, didn’t know any of them, but their faces raced by, as though he were passing them on his bike, barely time to glimpse them before they were gone. Finally, though, there was a face he recognized, a broad, open, male face topped by sandy hair, leaning over, peering at him with worry and concern. He knew that face. He knew that look. Glenn.
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