                         "THE TRUCKERS"
                        by Mistery Writer

	It was one of those blistering, hot days along Interstate
Forty. The boys who worked at Steve's truck stop at the side of
the highway in Alma strolled around that afternoon in what seemed
to be a sexy, gas-jockey uniform of nothing more than tennis
shoes and cut-off jeans. Steve looked down from his office window
on the second floor of the truck stop and smiled down on those
boys. He liked the way their sleek, young bodies seemed to shine
in the summer sun. Steve patted his gut and remembered the days
when he had been pretty fucking sleek himself. It had not been
that long ago. He was only thirty, and he was still good-looking.
But working behind a desk had not done Steve any good. He was
already developing a pot-gut.

	"Should get some exercise," he said softly to himself.
"Should be out there myself, running around, filling up gas
tanks, checking that oil." Steve had done all of that in his
youth, when his Uncle C.J. had run the truck stop. Uncle C.J. had
been pretty damned fat himself, Steve remembered. But Uncle C.J.
had taken all of his lard and had moved to Florida to retire. Now
he was down there, baking his fat under the Florida sun, and
Steve, who had taken over the truck stop when his uncle had
announced that he wanted out of the business and out of Alma, was
staring down at boys and beginning to think that he was turning
into another C.J. for sure. Steve did not like that idea at
all.He turned away from the window when he heard the rap on his
door.

	"Yeah. Come in, Ricky," he snarled. The door opened slowly
and the little, sexy, red-haired, freckle-faced boy slipped into
the room. Ricky was a little frightened and nervous. Steve could
tell that. But he was also sweet looking in his cut-off jeans.
Ricky was a small guy, and that made him look even younger than
his eighteen years.His red hair was thick and long. His body was
splattered with freckles. He looked like somebody auditioning for
the part of Huckleberry Finn, Steve always thought. "You wanted
to see me," Ricky said softly. "Yeah," Steve said. "I wanted to
see you." The young man let his eyes run down Ricky's small but
strong body. He let those eyes fall on the bulge in Ricky's
cut-offs. The redhead had a nice prick down there, Steve thought.
Ricky just stood there and waited for Steve to tell him why he
had called the lad up to the office.

	Finally, Steve took his eyes off that crotch and smiled at
Ricky. "I've decided that you deserve a promotion," he said. "I
want you to work inside the truck stop." The little redhead
grinned. "Really? Inside? Really?" "Really?" Steve said. "I want
you to work in the gift shop." "The gift shop. Wow, that sounds
great." The gift shop was air-conditioned in the summer and
heated in the winter. It was considered an easy job at the truck
stop, the kind of job that every boy strived for. "Gee, thanks,"
Ricky said. "I'll do my best in the gift shop. I really will. If
there is ever anything I can do for you, Steve--" And then the
redhead stopped speaking when he saw the young man run his hand
over his own crotch. "There is something you can do for me,
Ricky," Steve said softly. Ricky grinned and nodded his head.
"Come here," Steve groaned. And the little, freckle-faced lad
slipped toward the guy who ran the truck stop and dropped to his
knees in front of Steve.

	He lifted up a freckled, boyish hand and touched Steve's
bulge with his fingers. Steve unbuttoned his shirt and slipped
out of it. When the owner of the truck stop did that, Ricky let
his freckled hand run up over Steve's pot gut. He caressed that
belly with his fingers and then he pressed his lips against it
and kissed it tenderly and softly. The redhead's lips were so
soft and damp and sweet that Steve did not even think that that
was a pot gut Ricky was kissing. The lad licked that gut with his
tongue And, as he licked that flesh, he used his fingers on
Steve's pants, opening them swiftly. Ricky slipped those pants
down around Steve's hips. The owner of the truck stop did not
wear any underwear. The prick sprang out and Ricky caressed that
cock with his fingers. Then that tongue went to work on the crown
of that prick, licking Steve's piss-slit and thrilling the young
man too.

	As Ricky worked his lips back and forth on that cock, he
squeezed Steve's buttocks. The redhead knew that his boss liked
that. This was not the first time that Ricky had serviced Steve
here in his office, and the redhead suspected that it would
definitely not be the last. Working in the gift shop, he probably
would be called up to the office on a regular basis to suck
Steve's cock and massage his ass and make him feel good, and then
the lad would go downstairs again and sell a few more patriotic
bumper stickers or cigarette lighters. But, at least, he would be
out of the sun, out of the heat in the summer and the cold in the
winter. He would be a white-collar worker. When he visited Steve,
however, he would probably be just a naked worker--even after he
started in the gift shop. Ricky took his mouth off Steve's
hardening prick and glanced up at his boss. "You want me naked
now?" the redhead asked. "Yeah,"

	Steve moaned, clutching on his prick. Ricky turned and moved
on the floor, pulling off his shoes and pushing his shorts down
and kicking them off his legs. Then Steve groaned again and
pointed at the big couch in the corner of the office. On his
hands and knees, Ricky quickly crawled toward that couch and
slipped up on the thing. Still grasping his prick, Steve walked
toward the little table and the end of the couch and opened a
drawer and pulled out a tube of lubricating jell. He dropped that
tube onto the couch next to Ricky and said, "Do it to yourself
and make it good." The redhead knew just what the boss expected
of him. He did it this way every time he visited Steve's office.

	Ricky lay on his stomach and ran his finger deep into his
rounded ass. As he did that, greased himself up with that jell,
he squirmed on the couch and Steve watched him squirming and
smiled and tugged on his prick. That pale ass was rounded and
sexy and sweet, Steve thought, and there were no freckles on that
ass at all. The freckles on Ricky's body seemed to stop right at
the beginning of the sweet, white buttocks. Ricky moaned a little
and licked his lips as he worked his finger deep into his
bung-hole and felt that jell move from cold to warm in just a few
seconds when it was deep inside him. Then he pulled his finger
out of his ass-hole and grabbed a buttock with each hand and
spread those ass-cheeks as wide as they would go as he continued
to churn on that couch and moan softly. Steve reached down and
ran his fingers through that soft, red hair. The owner of the
truck stop was naked by now too. Ricky looked up at that big
prick that Steve held in his hand and the redhead raised up
slightly and opened his mouth and let Steve guide that prick into
those willing lips again. Ricky gave the cock some more sucking
and lifted up his hand and caressed Steve's balls with his
fingers. And the boss moaned. "You are going to be just fine in
the gift shop," he said. "You are going to flirt with all those
truckers and traveling salesmen and tourist studs and you are
going to sell a shit-pot load of coffee mugs, I bet." Ricky
sucked that cock and felt good that Steve had such confidence in
his ability to sell things.

	Ricky was greased up and willing. Steve was hard and
yearning. So it seemed only natural for Steve to slip his prick
deep into the redhead's ass-hole and start to fuck him. Ricky lay
on his back on the big couch and spread his legs wide and raised
his buttocks up slightly. The boss put his arms under Ricky's
thighs and pushed them back slightly, opening that sweet ass up
even more. And then Steve pressed the tip of his organ against
Ricky's most private opening.

	"Come on, boss," the redhead said, churning and yearning on
the couch. "Fuck me, boss. Really fuck me." And Steve smiled and
worked the tip of his cock into that bung-hole. He felt the
strength in his body as he took a deep breath. He felt that
little pot gut disappear as he flexed the muscles that he used to
work to exhaustion out there in the sun. Steve felt like a real
man as he drove that cock into the lad's willing ass-hole. Then,
as the boy squirmed, Steve leaned over Ricky and smiled down at
him. And he started to fuck that ass with a regular, manly
rhythm. It was the rhythm of trucks rolling down the highway, he
thought, the rhythm of American movement. It was a good rhythm
for sure.

	Ricky seemed to like the rhythm. As he felt that rhythm in
his ass-hole, he caught it and matched it with his own movement,
thrusting his ass up to meet the cock as it went in and out of
him. And he lifted his arms and threw them back and ran his
fingers through his red hair. Steve looked at the red hair that
grew in Ricky's arm-pits and thought it was like fire. And Steve
added to that fire in Ricky's body by plundering that ass-hole
with even more delight.

	Ricky's dork was long and strong and meaty. And the redhead
was tugging on that thing with delight as his boss went back and
forth in that hot ass-hole. "I love it," the redhead said. "I
love being fucked by a really good cock. I always have. I always
will." And Steve loved fucking a really good ass-hole.

	He always had, and he suspected that he always would. But,
as he felt his orgasm nearing, the boss jerked his prick out of
that taut, tight ass-hole and Ricky sighed and reached out and
grabbed that meat with his hand. One hand was on his own cock.
The other hand was on Steve's prick. And then Ricky pulled
Steve's dork down to his own and clutched both of them in one
hand and stroked on the hot, pulsating meat. They started to come
at almost the same instant.

	They shot their wads all over Ricky's freckled chest and
stomach. Together, they unloaded what seemed to be a gallon of
cream. And, when the orgasms we re over, that cream glistened on
Ricky's freckled flesh. The lad released those pricks slowly and
then lay there on he couch, slightly exhausted but very happy.
And Steve dropped down onto Ricky's body and lay close to him
with that come sticking them together. He touched Ricky's face
and smiled down at him. "You are going to be just fine in the
gift shop," he said softly. And then he pressed his mouth against
the redhead's soft lips and Ricky opened those lips and let
Steve's tongue work deep inside of him.

	Jeff, the blond stud, was working near the garage when the
big, black car pulled up. Jeff recognized the car. He stood up
tall and proud and flexed the muscles in his body as that car
drew near. He was wearing just a pair of cut-offs too, and he
knew he looked good--blond and tanned and handsome and strong.
The big, black car stopped and the window in the back came down.
Glen was sitting there. He was young but he was very rich. He
smiled at Jeff. And the blond stud smiled back. "Fill 'er up?"
Jeff asked. "Yeah," Glen said softly. "Pull around here," the
blond stud said, pointing to the side of the garage. And the
driver in the front seat pressed down on the gas and moved the
car slowly to the spot where Glen always had his fun with Jeff.
Then the car stopped and the motor died. The driver opened the
front door and slipped out of the car. He was a blond guy too--a
young man named Danny. He was wearing a pair of black slacks and
an open-necked, white shirt. He closed the front door of the car
and opened the back. He held it open as Jeff approached the car.

	Jeff slipped by Danny and moved into the back seat with
Glen. Then Danny leaned down and looked into that back seat and
said, "I will go have a cup of iced coffee, all right?" "Yes,"
Glen said. "That is fine, Danny." Then the driver closed the door
and Jeff and Glen were left alone there in the back seat of that
car. The car was cool and the seats were covered in fine,
sweet-smelling leather. Glen was a little, dark-haired guy of
twenty-one. He had a soft, pouting mouth and big, dark eyes. His
father was very wealthy, so Glen had never really learned to do
anything at all in life. That was the reason he liked the boys at
Steve's truck stop so much. They all knew how to work. And Glen
especially liked Jeff, for the blond was strong and tanned and
obviously had worked very hard in his life. "Hi," Glen said
softly. Jeff just opened his cut-offs and pushed them down his
legs past his knees. He pulled on his long, thick cock with one
hand and put the other on the back of Glen's neck. And he pulled
the rich guy down onto his loins. "Suck it," the blond stud
snarled. And Glen opened his mouth wide and took that cock in.

	Glen took his soft, pouting mouth off Jeff's prick and
looked up at the blond stud and smiled at him. "You have such
tasty meat," the rich guy said. "Like a fine banquet." "Yeah,
yeah, sure," Jeff murmured."Get naked." The back seat of the big,
black car was roomy. Glen had plenty of room as he raised up and
unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. Glen had round, pinkness
nipples on a hairless and pale chest. Jeff reached out and
grabbed those nipples in his strong hands and twisted them
slightly, making the rich guy close his eyes and shiver and moan
with delight. "You should get some sun," Jeff whispered as he
twisted on those nipples. "You are too fucking pale." "I know,"
Glen whimpered. "I know. I know." Then Jeff took his hands off
the nipples and glanced down at the bulge in Glen's pants. It was
big and it was growing, the blond stud discovered. Glen really
got turned on during his visits to the truck stop.

	"Take off the rest of your clothes," Jeff ordered. And, as
Glen continued to strip, the blond moved out of his shoes and
then pushed his shorts down his legs and off. He grasped his pole
of fine meat and sat there, naked and waiting for Glen to be
naked too.

	When Glen was naked, he slipped down in front of the back
seat. "You know you could take a room here," Jeff said. "We have
little rooms that we rent to the truckers who want to catch some
sleep." "I know," Glen said, as he wrapped his fingers around the
blond's dork again. "You could afford to rent the room and we
could have more space there to do things." "I could afford it,"
Glen said, "but a room seems--oh, I don't know--not romantic. In
the back seat of the car, it's like nothing but lust. If I rented
a room, it would seem like I had it all planned out in advance."
It didn't make much sense to the blond stud.

	The rich guy did have it all planned out in advance, from
the moment that he got into the car and told Danny to take him to
the truck stop. But Jeff did not argue with Glen. He just put his
hand on the rich guy's head and ran his fingers through that
black hair. And he pulled those sweating, pouting lips toward his
cock again. Glen opened those lips and took that meat into his
mouth. Then he pressed those lips around Jeff's pulsating organ
and slowly worked his way down that rod, taking it in inch by
inch. Soon he had his face against Jeff's hard body and the blond
was groaning and the cock was battering the back of Glen's sweet
throat. As the rich guy kept all of that meat in his mouth and
throat, he worked his fingers over Jeff's balls and gave the stud
that extra thrill. And he could feel Jeff's flesh quicken with
desire in his mouth and throat. He could also feel his own butt
aching with desire too.

	When Glen took those pouting lips off Jeff's dork, the thing
was hard and full and standing straight up. Then Glen looked up
at the blond and Jeff though the could actually see tears in the
rich guy's dark eyes. "I must be fucked," Glen whimpered. "I must
have my ass fucked dry and hard until it is ready to rip right
open." "Then get that ass-hole up here," Jeff murmured. "I'll
fuck it for you." Glen raised up and turned slightly. Then the
blond stud took over, putting his hands on the rich guy's little,
white body and pulling Glen toward his lap, toward his cock. Glen
grabbed the back of the front seat of the big, black car and
moaned. Jeff felt a little cramped in those quarters, but he knew
he would have more room when his cock was deep inside Glen's
bung-hole.

	The blond held the rich guy steady with his arms and raised
up slightly off the back seat. And he drove the tip of his prick
into Glen. The pale, little guy shivered when that prick entered
him and he licked his full, pouting lips. Then he moaned out some
words, urging the blond stud on. "Go ahead," he groaned.

	"Slam it to me. Give me all of that cock." And Jeff took a
deep breath and pulled Glen down and moved up at the same time.
That mutual movement slammed the whole of that shaft into that
willing, aching ass-hole. Glen squealed a little when that thing
went into him. Then he relaxed and started to moan as Jeff lifted
him slightly and started to work his dork back and forth in the
quaking, tight, hot hole.

	Danny, Glen's driver, sat in the restaurant of the truck
stop and watched the boys running around outside through the big
window next to his booth. They were a lusty, sweet-looking group,
the driver thought, and there seemed to be a hundred of them.
Actually, Danny knew that there were probably only about a dozen
of those boys but they moved so quickly, servicing the cars and
trucks that pulled out, that they seemed to be everywhere. This
was an old-fashioned service station, Danny thought, the kind
that you didn't see that much any longer. There were no
self-service gas stations here. If you pulled out, you were going
to get a boy working with you, wiping off your windshield and
checking your oil and water and putting air in your tire and
filling up your tank and making you feel like some kind of
royalty from the interstate highway. And, of course, if you
really wanted to feel like a king from the highway, you could pay
a little extra and get the boy to work out the kinks in your
body, the kinks in your cock and your ass-hole too. There were
rooms at this truck stop where truckers slept, where boys knocked
on the doors and asked if there was anything special that the men
needed. There was a gift shop, and the boys who worked there
would flirt with you and offer to meet you later. And there was
this restaurant, serving hardy, damned good food and coffee.

	The boy who served as the cashier at that restaurant, the
one that Danny kept glancing at now, was a kid with dark, curly
hairy who looked so sweet you just wanted to kiss him right after
you paid your bill. This truck stop was a little like paradise
just off the interstate highway, the driver thought. Then Danny
looked at his watch. He figured that Glen and that boy were
probably finished by now.

	He finished his third cup of iced coffee and slid out of his
booth and stood up. He dropped a dollar on the table as a tip for
the waitress--a fat and motherly type--and he moved toward that
cashier with the dark, curly hair. He handed that boy his bill,
and the boy smiled and rang up the total. Then Danny handed the
boy a twenty-dollar bill and said, "You keep the rest." The boy
with the curly hair grinned. "I usually have to do something for
a tip like this," he said. "I get off in about an hour." "You got
this extra because you sat there and looked so pretty for me,"
Danny said. "I'll be back some other day to see if you act pretty
too." "You come back real soon, you hear?" the boy said softly.
And then the driver turned and walked out of the restaurant and
into that hot sun. He stopped and took one last look at those
dashing, hard-working lads in the sun. And then he smiled and
moved toward the spot where he had parked the big, black car. As
he approached that car, he could tell that Glen and the blond
were not quite finished yet. The windows of the car were tinted
so that no one could look in and see what was happening there,
but the driver could see the big, black automobile bouncing on
its shocks. And Danny knew what that meant. He leaned against the
wall of the building and crossed his arms over his chest and
smiled and waited for that bouncing to stop.

	Inside the car, both Glen and Jeff were drenched with sweat.
And Jeff was moaning to the rich guy in a voice was as rough as
it was sweet. "I am going to come right in your tight, rich
ass-hole." "Oh, yes," the dark-haired guy said. "Come in my
ass-hole. Cleanse me with your come." Jeff grabbed the pale guy's
body and pulled it down onto that dork and held him there as he
felt his cock exploding with lust. And Glen leaned back and
shivered. His sweaty body moved against Jeff's face. And the
blond stuck out his tongue and licked some of that sweet sweat
off that pale flesh as he came.

	When Danny saw the back door of the car open, he moved
toward the automobile. Jeff slipped out of that back seat as he
pulled his shorts up and closed them. He smiled at the driver who
passed him and closed the door. "Your boss is really something,"
Jeff said. And then the blond stud put his hand in the pocket of
his cut-offs and felt the paper there. It was a hundred-dollar
bill, the money that Glen always paid for his sessions in the
back seat. "Really something," he muttered again, and he slowly
moved back toward the garage. Danny opened the front door and
slipped in behind the wheel. Glen was still naked in the back
seat. He was lying back there, stretched out and resting after
that wild time. The driver did not take much notice of Glen's
pale, naked body. He had seen it so many times before. "Where do
you wish to go now?" Danny asked. "Just drive around for a
while," Glen said. "You know that your father is expecting you in
the office this afternoon." "My father can go to hell," Glen said
sharply. "I hate that office. I like this car."

	"Whatever you say," Danny muttered. And then he started the
motor and slowly pulled away from the truck stop and headed for
the big, wide highway.

	The boy was shirtless and standing by the side of the
highway. As Brother Wiley approached in his truck, he saw that
the boy was slender and had dark skin. "Could be a nigger or some
sort of weird Mexican," Brother Wiley said to himself. When the
boy stuck out his thumb, Brother Wiley smiled. And he pulled over
to the side of the road a few feet ahead of the shirtless boy and
waited for him to run up to the truck. The boy peered inside the
truck. He did not have an ugly, nigger face, Brother Wiley
thought. He might be some sort of cute, little mongrel mixed
breed. "Where you from?" Brother Wiley asked. "New Jersey," the
shirtless boy said. Brother Wiley nodded his head and smiled Up
there in New Jersey and places like that, races had been
copulating together for so long, that you couldn't tell a nigger
from a white boy any longer.

	"Where you headed?" Brother Wiley asked. "West," the boy
said. Brother Wiley grinned again. No particular destination.
That meant the boy was probably a runaway, that he wouldn't be
missed in some town where folks were expecting him, that Brother
Wiley could take his time with the lad. "Get in," Brother Wiley
said. "I'm going about two hundred miles west of here." "Thanks,
mister, " the boy said happily. And he climbed in the cab of the
truck. "What happened to your shirt?" Brother Wiley asked. "Some
son-of-a-bitch stole it," the boy said. "Stole my back-pack too."
"When that happen?" "Last night." "Yeah," Brother Wiley said,
"you can't trust nobody these days." "That's right," the boy
said.

	"And this guy was a rich man in a big car. What the hell did
he want with my shirt and back-pack anyway?" "Probably just the
natural kind of mean guy," Brother Wiley said. "Yeah. Probably."
"What's your name?" "Mike." "Hello, Mike. You can call me Wiley.
And you can trust me too. I ain't gonna steal nothing from you.
I'm a preacher of the gospel." The boy stiffened a little.
Brother Wiley could tell that he was nervous now. "Don't worry,"
Brother Wiley said. "I ain't no crazy, hell-fire,
you-got-to-be-saved-by-Thursday preacher. I ain't gonna give you
a lot of shit about Jesus and try to get you down on your knees."
The boy grinned. "That's a relief," he said. "In fact , if you
would like to have a drink of fine, cooling wine, just open up
that chest down there by your feet." Mike opened the ice chest
and saw the wine bottle in the melting ice. "Go ahead," Brother
Wiley said. "Have yourself a drink. Wine is good on a hot day
like today. Eases your mind and eases your body too." Mike pulled
the wine bottle out of the ice and let some of the extra water
drip off. Then he opened the bottle and took a drink of the wine.
It was cool and soothing, he discovered. "Want some?" he asked
the preacher. "No, I just had me some. You go ahead and finish
off that bottle if you want." And Mike relaxed and took another
long drink of the sweet, cool wine.

	Steve was sitting in his office that afternoon when Ricky
came into the room. "There's a guy down here," the little redhead
said. "He says he's a writer. He says he would like to talk to
you." "A writer," Steve muttered. "What the hell would a writer
want with me?" Then Steve figured that it was probably just
another salesman of novelty items with a new way to get into the
door. Steve thought he might tell Ricky to throw the bum out. But
he was a little lonely this afternoon, so he finally said, "Send
him in." The young man who came into the office next was wearing
a pony-tail. That really confused Steve. You did not see too many
salesmen of novelty items with hair styles like that. The young
man looked to be in his late twenties. He was handsome and looked
strong. He wore jeans and a blue work-shirt and he carried a
little brief case with him. The man sat down in a chair in front
of Steve's desk and introduced himself. Then he said, "I write
for Truck Stop Digest." Steve sat up straight. He subscribed to
that magazine. "You say your name is Kevin?" he muttered. "Yes,"
the young man with the pony-tail said. "Shit fire, I've read your
stuff! It's fucking great!" The young man with the pony
tail--whose name was Kevin--traveled around the nation writing
feature articles on famous truck stops for that monthly magazine.
They were Steve's favorite articles in the whole damned
publication. "Why are you here?" Steve asked. "I'd like to write
up this truck stop," Kevin said. "I've heard a lot about you and
the boys you have working for you. A lot of truckers speak very
highly of this place."

	Steve felt honored. In all the years that his Uncle C.J. had
run the place, no one from Truck Stop Digest had ever dropped by
and said he wanted to write an article. Steve suddenly started to
think of all the articles by Kevin he had found particularly
memorable in the magazine. "That piece you did on Madame
Celeste's Little Bit of Paris Truck Stop down in Texas," Steve
said, "that was mighty fine. Made me want to get in a car and
drive down there and spend a few days." "Madame Celeste was very
cooperative," Kevin said. "She really weigh four hundred pounds?"
"She did when I wrote the piece. She's been dieting lately. I've
heard that she's down to about three hundred and fifty and going
out dancing every night." "And that place up in Dakota. What was
the name of that truck stop you wrote about up there?" "Yitzhak
Cohen's Badlands Truck Stop," the man with the pony-tail said.
"Yeah. Who would think that a Jew from Budapest would end up
running a truck stop right here in America," Steve said with a
grin. "Only truck stop in America with a kosher menu," Kevin
said. "A lot of drivers find it exotic. They can't wait to stop
and eat a little white fish and cream cheese on a bagel."
"Course," Steve said, "we don't serve nothing like that here.
Just the usual fare, I guess." "Well," Kevin said, "what all the
truckers talk about is your boys. They seem to be really
something special." "My boys?" Steve muttered. "Yeah, I guess
they are nice. "

	"I'd like to hang around here for a couple of days. You
know, rent a room and just spend my time talking to you and your
boys and some of the customers too." "Well--" "Did you ever read
the piece I wrote on the truck stop in Northern California?"
Kevin asked. "Sin City Truck Stop?" "Oh, yeah," Steve said. "That
was the one run by the former drama professor." "Marcel O'Toole,"
Kevin said, supplying the name of the owner. "He was a little
hesitant to let me write up his place too. But I was discreet,
and I told just enough to make sure that everyone who was
interested could read between the lines." "Yeah, I remember that
article had a really interesting tone to it," Steve said. "Marcel
O'Toole's business tripled the month my article appeared."
"Tripled?" "Tripled." Steve leaned back in his chair and wondered
what Uncle C. J. would do in a situation like this. It did not
take long to figure out the answer to that question. Steve
grinned. "What can I do to cooperate with you, Kevin?" he asked.

	The sedative in wine had done its work. Brother Wiley smiled
as he looked at the boy who was passed out against the door of
the truck cab. "Jesus Lord," th e preacher said. "Gonna have some
fun with this mongrel boy." He pulled onto a dirt road that led
up a steep mountain. Brother Wiley lived on the top of that
mountain. He lived so far away from other people that no one
could hear anything that came from the top of that mountain. Not
a moan. Not a scream. As he drove up that mountain, he reached
over and touched the flesh of the boy's chest. It was smooth and
sexy, he found. He took all the curves easily wi th one hand on
the steering wheel. He knew his mountain well. With the other
hand, he slipped his fingers over one of the boy's nipples and
pinched it. The boy moaned, but he was too drugged to move away
from the nipple-pinching. Brother Wiley pulled up in front of his
farm house and killed the motor. He got o ut of the cab of the
truck just as the other boy, the one with the black hair and
sweet smile, came out on the front porch of the old house. The
boy's was naked. "I'm glad you're back, Brother Wiley," the boy
said softly. "Come on down here, Dallas. Help me carry this new
one into the house." "A new one?" The way that the naked boy said
it, Brother Wiley could tell he was already getting jealous. And
he hadn't even seen this sweet mongrel kid yet. "Don't go turning
into some kind of whining wife on me, Dallas," the preacher said.
"Just help me with this one." The boy moved off the porch as
Brother Wiley opened the other door of the truck cab. Mike fell
out of the cab and into his arms. The preacher held the boy until
Dallas got there to grab at the runaway's legs. Then the preacher
and the naked youth carried the new boy across the yard and up
the steps to the porch and into the old house. "Is he a nigger?"
Dallas asked. "He's from New Jersey," Brother Wiley said. "You
can't tell niggers from white folks up there." "Must be a
perfectly terrible place," Dallas muttered. "I sure wouldn't want
to go to New Jersey if it was terrible like that."

	Kevin checked into one of the little sleeping rooms at the
truck stop and unloaded his little brief case. He had a camera in
there and a tape-recorder and some paper and a couple of pens.
The young man with the pony-tail traveled light. Then Kevin took
off his shirt and pants and shoes and socks and lay down on the
little, narrow bed in just his undershorts. The bed was more
comfortable that most of the ones he had slept on in truck stops.
Kevin had been writing about truck stops for more than two years
now, traveling around the nation, meeting truck stop managers and
truck stop workers and truckers. It was not a bad life, he
thought, but it was certainly not the life he had planned for
himself when he had been one of the only published poets at the
University of Connecticut at Storrs. He had been an undergraduate
there when his first volume of poetry was published. It had won
several awards and it had even been nominated for the prestigious
Yale Younger Poets Award. If he had only won that Yale award,
Kevin thought, he might have been able to work himself up into a
lather about his poetry and go somewhere for a master's degree in
creative writing. Then he would have settled down to teaching in
some college or university and turning out his poems and sending
them off for publication in magazines that paid damned little if
anything at all. But he had lost the Yale award to a guy who had
published an entire volume of poetry on how it felt to be a
homosexual in rural America. Shit, Kevin thought, he could have
written something like that too, if he had only known that was
what Yale was looking for. Instead, he had written his volume of
poetry about truck stops. Storrs, Connecticut, had some great
truck stops. And then he had graduated and had bummed around for
a few years, never even considering graduate school and teaching.
He knew that his poetry professors back at Storrs were
disappointed with him. But the editor of Truck Stop Digest had
read his volume of poetry and had offered him a job writing these
features. And a few months before, Kevin had returned to Storrs
to write up a famed New England truck stop and the people at that
place had treated him like a prince. Fuck the poetry professors,
Kevin thought. They didn't have the least idea what life was all
about. People in truck stops, they knew what life was. Lusty and
wild and often brutal and cruel. You had to take life and make of
it the best that you could. They knew that, and the professors
didn't understand at all. Kevin rubbed the crotch of his shorts
and thought about some other part of life that had probably
escaped his professors too. He was rubbing that crotch when he
heard the tap of the door. "Come in," Kevin said. The door opened
and the boy slipped into the little room. He was a little blond
with flashing, blue eyes. He was wearing just a pair of cut-offs
and his body was tanned and slender and yet still muscular too.
"Hi," the blond said, "my name is Lance. And I was wondering you
needed any company." "How much?" "Whatever you think is fair,"
the blond said. "The boys here at the truck stop don't do it so
much for the money as for the pleasure of the thing." Kevin
smiled. That was what he had heard about t his place. Making it
with one of Steve's boys, the truckers all said, was not like
making it with a hustler. It was like making it with a sexy,
sweet stud. You just tipped him so that he could buy something
nice for himself. Kevin raised up on the bed and said, "Sit down,
Lance. I think we can have some real fun together." The blond
smiled and eased down onto the bed.

	Inside Brother Wiley's house, the preacher pulled the
mongrel boy's pants off him and, when Mike was naked, Brother
Wiley fixed the shackles around his ankles. The shackles were
pounded into the floor. When Mike awoke, he would be able to move
around the room, but he would not be able to escape. Brother
Wiley sat down in a chair and waited for the mongrel boy to wake
up. Dallas just stood in the corner of the room for a moment,
looking at that naked, dark-skinned youth. Finally, the lad
worked up the courage to ask Brother Wiley the question. "Why do
you keep bringing them home with you?" Brother Wiley looked up at
the naked boy. "Why shouldn't I?" the preacher said. "They're out
there on the road. They're running away from something and they
don't know where they're going. Why shouldn't I bring them home
with me?" "Well, you got me here, Brother Wiley," Dallas said.
"Don't I do everything that you need done?" Brother Wiley did not
answer that naked, dark-haired youth. He knew that it would be
almost impossible to explain to a boy like Dallas that a man
needed something a little different from time to time. The
preacher knew that Dallas would have been perfectly content to
stay there at the farmhouse and have nobody but the preacher for
years and years to come, until the gray streaks came to his black
hair and he started to feel a creaking in his joints. But the
preacher was already feeling that creaking and he needed to have
a different boy from time to time. No, the man thought, you could
never explain that to boy like Dallas. So, instead of explaining
things, Brother Wiley just opened his pants and pulled out his
long, thick cock. "Come on over here, Dallas," he muttered. And
the naked boy scampered across the room and fell on his knees in
front of the preacher. He took Brother Wiley's cock in his hand
and he kissed the tip of the organ with his soft, willing lips.
And Brother Wiley looked at the dark-skinned youth on the floor
as Dallas opened those lips and slipped them over the man's dork.
"Holy Jesus," he moaned. The boy on the floor was beautiful and
the lips on his prick were soft and sweet. A nice combination. A
very nice combination, Brother Wiley thought.

	Kevin and Lance were naked in the little room, sitting next
to each other on the bed. The young man with the pony-tail had
his hand around Lance's prick, massaging it and making it full
and hard. And the blond boy had his finger s around Kevin's dork
too, jerking on it and making it stiff. Both of them were moaning
slightly. "I like this," Lance said. "I like being played with by
another hand. You can never tell what another hand is going to do
to you. It makes it exciting, you know." Kevin sighed. Yes, he
knew just what the blond boy was talking about. Then the young
man with the pony-tail and the blond looked at each other and
smiled to each other. And their faces came together as they
continued to work on each other's cock. They kissed and Lance
opened his mouth and let Kevin's tongue invade him.

	As Brother Wiley grew thick and hard in Dallas's mouth, he
watched the mongrel boy from New Jersey start to stir on the
floor. In a few minutes, the preacher knew, that boy would be
awake and frightened. There was nothing sexier than the
frightened look in a naked boy's eyes, Brother Wiley thought. He
especially liked the way that frightened look turned into a
different kind of look as the naked boy grew used to his
shackles, used to his captivity. Most naked boys decided, after a
little while, to make the most of their captivity. And some of
them--like Dallas--even fell in love with that captivity. If
Brother Wiley had told Dallas to leave the farmhouse now, it
would just kill that dark-haired lad, the preacher thought.
Brother Wiley reached down and touched Dallas's dark, soft hair
as those sweet lips went back and forth on the man's prick.
Sometimes Dallas would keep his lips just at the crown of the
cock and work his fingers playfully over the rest of the meat.
That thrilled Brother Wiley, and the boy knew it. And then Dallas
would take his mouth off the organ entirely and work his tongue
up and down the side of the shaft. That made Brother Wiley moan.
"God, you got a good mouth, Dallas," he said. And Dallas, feeling
warm and secure, slip the organ into his mouth again and press
his face back against Brother Wiley's body, taking all of that
long spear into his mouth and throat. As Dallas did that, the
naked mongrel boy turned on the floor and lay on his stomach. And
Brother Wiley saw that boy's ass, that rounded, dark-skinned ass.
The preacher moaned and licked his lips. And he grabbed the head
of the boy who was sucking his cock and forced Dallas down onto
that stiff organ. Looking at that rounded, dark, mongrel ass, the
preacher started to come. And he shot his warm lust-cream down
the willing throat of Dallas, the boy who was in love with his
captivity.

	Kevin lay back on the bed and pulled Lance down on top him.
The blond boy touched one Kevin's nipples and then lowered his
mouth to that nipple and started to suck on it. Kevin had a wide,
muscular chest. He had been more than just a poet at the
University of Connecticut. He had been a track star too. Now his
big chest heaved as that blond lad lay on top of him and sucked
at that nipple. "Down," Kevin murmured. "Down to my cock." And
the boy took his lips off that nipple and slipped down to the
bottom of the bed. When he felt the man's hands on his body,
touching and turning him, Lance knew just what the stud wanted.
He had visited so many men in their little rooms in this truck
stop that he could tell from the least moan or touch what a real
stud wanted to do next. Lance turned on the bed so that his prick
was near Kevin's face too. And then, as the young man spread his
legs, the blond boy moved his face close to that meaty dork and
stuck out his tongue and licked it. He ran his tongue down that
cock and over the hairy balls that Kevin offered up to him. He
knew that real studs liked a good ball-licking at a time like
this. Kevin groaned and turned slightly in his lust and put his
head between Lance's thighs too. He started to kiss and lick on
Lance's hairless, sweet balls. And then he opened his mouth and
took that cock into him and tasted the fine, male sweetness of
the blond lad. Soon Kevin and Lance were sucking each other wit h
delight, using their mouths on stiff organs. As the writer sucked
the blond boy, he moved his hand over the kid's fine rump and
touched those buttocks. He pressed his fingers against those
buttocks and drove more and more of Lance's meaty cock into his
mouth and throat. And he knew that this was going to be one
writing assignment that he was going to love. He was going to
feel like a real poet of the people when he wrote the passages
describing this famed place in Alma, he thought. And he was going
to let that poetry explode in him, just as his come would soon
explode in Lance's mouth, just as the boy's come would soon
explode and flow down his greedy throat. There was nothing better
than poetry when it explodes and washes over you, Kevin, unless
it was come washing down your hungry throat.

	It was Ricky's first afternoon in the gift shop. The little
redhead stood there in a pair of jeans and a white shirt that had
been given to him as a loan from another boy at the truck stop.
He smiled at the tourists who came in and looked around the gift
shop and he took their money and rang up their purchases when
they bought their decals and their magnets and their coffee mugs.
Most of the tourists who dropped by in the middle of the
afternoon were families on their way to some nice vacation spot.
That was the way that Mort explained it to Ricky. Mort was the
guy who ran the gift shop for Steve. He was in his twenties, and
he had once been a boy out there in front of the truck stop,
filling up those tanks and checking that oil. That had been in
the days when C.J. had run the place. But then a man in a
station-wagon had lost control of his car as he pulled into the
truck stop and had hit Mort and had run over his leg. Mort now
moved slowly, limping on his bad leg. But C.J. had paid for
Mort's medical bills and had promised him a job in the gift shop
for the rest of his life. And Mort seemed to be happy there in
the gift shop, Ricky though t.

	He had experienced tragedy, but, as Mort said, it could have
been worse. "I could have been killed under that station-wagon,"
Mort always said to the boys when he talked about his terrible
experience. "The guy who was driving the thing, he was from
Oregon. And he was high on something. I could have been crushed
to my death." Now Mort was sitting on a little stool behind the
counter, helping Ricky adjust to his new job. The only customers
in the gift shop at the moment were a man and his wife and they
were arguing in the back of the shop. "I told you I wanted to go
to the mountains," the woman said. "But, no, you wouldn't hear of
it." "Mountains suck," the man growled. "Ain't nobody in the
mountains but people like you run into every day in the city."
The man picked up a "Good-bye, Cruel World" novelty item. It was
a toilet and, when you opened it, you saw a man flushing himself
down the thing. The man chuckled and showed the novelty to his
wife. "Isn't that something?" he said.

	"It's a piece of trash," the wife muttered. "Oh, come on.
Have some fun. This is my vacation for God's sake." "Buy it if
you want it." The man picked up a little paperback boy that was
filled with authentic dirty jokes of the region. He turned the
pages and read some of the jokes and laughed softly. "I want this
too," he said. "You can read these jokes to me while I'm driving
along." "I'm not going to read any dirty jokes to you." "Why
not?" "I don't think dirty jokes are funny." "These here were
collected by an anthropologist," the man said. "These dirty jokes
are scientific." "Buy it if you want it," the wife said again.
The man brought the paperback book and the novelty item up to the
cash register. Ricky rang up the sales and took the man's money
and gave him his change.

	Then the woman picked up the book of dirty jokes and opened
it and read one of them. She started to cackle. "This is funny,"
she said. "'You think I don't know my own daughter's
handwriting?' This is damned funny." And she was laughing out
loud as she and her husband left the gift shop. But she kept
reading the punch-lines aloud. "Officer, I think I just beat the
shit out of a ghost. " She laughed out loud. A few seconds later,
she read another punch-line. "Madam, your sign fell down." And
the husband finally growled at the woman. "Shit, don't go ruining
all those jokes for me." He was still growling and she was still
laughing when they left the truck stop. "A strange pair," Ricky
said.

	"People on vacation are always a little strange," Mort
informed the boy. Then a handsome man entered the gift shop. He
was a tall, thin man with a mustache and piercing, dark eyes, and
he was wearing a pair of tight jeans that showed up his bulging
crotch. As he entered the gift shop, he glanced at the redhead
behind the cash register and he smiled. Then he went over to the
spot where all the bumper stickers were on display. Ricky looked
back at Mort and grinned. "Go ahead," the crippled man said. "I
can handle the shop by myself for a while." Ricky moved from
behind the cash register and walked up toward the handsome man.
"Anything in particular you want?" he asked temptingly. The man
with the mustache just grinned at him. And then he looked back at
the bumper stickers. "My 'America, Love It or Leave It' sticker
is just about faded to the point where you can't read it," he
said. "We have one of those," Ricky said, pointing to the sticker
that patriots liked to buy. "But I like that one too ," the man
said, pointing to another bumper stick--"If Your Heart Ain't in
Dixie, Get Your Ass Out." "That's a very popular one," Ricky
said. "But this one is my favorite," the man said. And then he
picked up the bumper sticker that said, "I Brake for Redheads."
He held it up and grinned at the red-haired boy. "Know what I
mean?" the man said. "I know," Ricky said softly, smiling. "I got
a room here. My name is Drew." "My name is Ricky," the boy said
sweetly. "I'd like to see that room of yours." The man bought two
bumper stickers--the "America , Love It or Leave It" and the "I
Brake for Redheads." Mort grinned as he took the man's money and
then watched Ricky leave with the stud.

	When Mike started to come out of his drugged sleep, he felt
the cold, hard thing around his ankle first. Still half-asleep,
he moved his hand down his firm, muscular leg and touched the
shackle. And then his eyes came open wide and he looked down on
that metal thing that was around his ankle. He looked across the
room and saw the preacher sitting there. He wanted to scream. He
opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His throat was dry and
seemed useless. "How you doing, New Jersey?" the preacher said
with a grin. Finally, some words came out. "Where am I?" Mike
said. "My place," the preacher said. "What are you going to do
with me?" "Some really sweet things," Brother Wiley informed the
boy. "If you just relax, you will grow to like them." The boy
from New Jersey did not believe that for one minute. Mike was
thirsty, very thirsty. Brother Wiley could obviously tell that.
The preacher called out, "Dallas, bring the new boy some water!"
The door opened a minute later, and a slender, naked, dark-haired
youth entered the room. Mike saw that the lad was carrying a
bottle of water. He also saw that the lad was carrying a nice
load of meat between his legs. Without saying a word, Dallas
knelt down next to Mike and handed the New Jersey boy the bottle.
Mike took the bottle and then looked at the preacher. "This is
just water, right? No drugs?" "No drugs," the preacher said. " I
want you wide awake now." Mike did not know if he should believe
the man, but he was so thirsty that he had to take the chance. He
raised the bottle up and drained about half of the water from the
thing. When his thirst was vanquished, he sighed and handed the
bottle back to Dallas. Again, he looked at that naked boy's cock.
"You should think Dallas in a special way," the preacher said. "
He brought you the refreshment. You should refresh him too." Mike
knew just what the preacher was getting at. He touched the lower
part of the boy's stomach and then let his dark-skinned fingers
trace down to that big cock. He wrapped his fingers around that
dork and massaged it. Dallas just knelt there and accepted that
massaging as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be
felt up by a naked, trapped boy. "You a nigger?" Dallas asked
softly. Mike continued to work on the prick with his hand as he
answered that question. "My mother was a black woman from Harlem.
My father was French." "Oh," Dallas said. "Half nigger, half
French." "Suck his cock," the preacher barked. And Mike lowered
his face down to that organ and took the prick into his lips. The
cock was sweet and meaty. This was not so bad, Mike thought. If
this was all he had to do in captivity, he could handle it for a
little while.

	Kevin had turned on the little tape-recorder and he was
listening to Steve talk about the philosophy behind this famous
truck stop. "Most of these boys were on the road, running away
from home because parents down here just don't understand lads
who like to fool around with other guys. They would have ended up
in the big cities, working the streets. Well, these boys are
small town boys. They would have been eaten alive in the big
cities. So Uncle C.J. decided that he would give them a place to
live here. Let them work out their hustling desires in a more
bucolic surrounding, although I will be damned if I can find
anything that bucolic about a truck stop." "Well, it is better in
the big city streets," Kevin volunteered. "Yeah, and they are
protected here. They are also learning a trade. They work in the
garage or the gift shop or the restaurant. When they get that
hustling urge out of their systems, or when they get a little too
old to bring in good money as hustlers, they have something to
fall back on. They leave here--usually with a lover--and they go
to work in some town and make pretty damned good money. We train
them well." "Yeah," Kevin said with a smile, remembering the
blond who had visited him in his room. They certainly trained
their boys well at Steve's truck stop.

	When they got back to the little room, Drew made a request
of the redhead. "Take off just your shirt," he said. "I like
nipples a lot and I want to spend a lot of time with yours."
Ricky grinned as he pulled his shirt off. When Drew saw that
freckled, hairless chest, he sighed with delight. Ricky touched
his pink nipples with his fingers and slipped back onto the bed.
He lay back and Drew moved down onto his knees beside that bed.
When Drew moved his mouth over Ricky's chest, his mustache
tickled the lad in a way. But it was a good and sexy tickle. And
that tickle turned a little passionate when Drew put his lips on
one of those nipples and started to suck on it. Ricky sighed and
ran his fingers through Drew's dark hair. "Oh, yes," he murmured.
"Suck me there. That is good." As Drew worked one nipple into his
lips, he slipped his fingers over Ricky's hairless chest and
found the other nipple. He pinched on that nipple, pulled on it
slightly. And the boy churned on the bed and stretched his arms
back over his head and sighed. "Oh, yes, I like nipple play too,"
Ricky murmured. The redhead's nipples grew hard and bumpy and
excited as Drew worked on them.

	"My Uncle C.J. never sophisticated the operation, however,"
Steve bragged to the reporter. "He would have his boys here but
he always felt a little weird about organizing them in any way.
If a runaway kid heard about the place and showed up and wanted
to work without really telling Uncle C.J. what he was doing, well
that was okay with him. But, when he retired and went to Florida,
I took over. I knew I had a nice little gold mine here. So I
started to put the signs up around in the rooms. Have you seen
them? The ones that say 'If you like our boys, let your friends
on the highway know.'" Kevin nodded his head. There was a sign
like that on the wall of the little room where he had made it
with Lance. "Well, that has increased our business immensely. And
boys now come here when they run away from home. They hear out
there on the highways that this is the kind of place where they
can feel right at home and feel safe too. I just wish there was a
way that I could advertise this service to the truckers even
more. Of course, you have to be a little discreet. What we are
doing here is against the law. That is what gets my bile boiling.
This is against the law! Shit, these boys might be dead on the
side of the road if it wasn't for this place!" "That's right,"
Kevin said. "You read about it all the time." "I followed the
case in Arizona. You remember that one. Just a few months ago."
Kevin nodded again. "Yeah, some crazy guy had picked up boys on
the highway and killed them and buried them all over his land out
there in the middle of nowhere. When they finally caught him, he
had--how many graves?" "Nineteen, I believe it was." "Nineteen. A
tragedy. Nineteen tragedies. If those nineteen boys had come
here, they would still be alive today. And they say what I am
doing is against the law. Shit, I'm saving lives. I'm like the
Red Cross or something. You wouldn't arrest the head of the Red
Cross and throw him in jail, would you?"

	Mike turned onto his back there on the floor and Dallas
spread his knees over the dark-skinned boy's throat and aimed
that meaty cock down at those fine, sweet lips again. Mike raised
his head slightly and took that prick into his mouth and started
to suck on it again. Hell, the boy from New Jersey thought, if
this was all he had to do in his shackles, he could live with it.
The dark-haired boy was a little strange, but he was sexy, and he
had that thick, long, sweet cock too. Mike had been hitch-hiking
long enough to know all about sucking cock. It did not take long
out on the highway before you were picked up by some married man
who offered you money to go down on him in some rest area just
off the highway. If a boy was hungry enough, he would do it. And
some times the men did not offer money at all. They pulled out
pistols and aimed them at you and said that you were either going
to suck cock or die. And boys liked to stay alive as long as they
could. Mike had even grown to like sucking cock , and he really
liked this one--a cock that was young and thick and sweet. Dallas
put his hand behind Mike's head and held the lad steady and
growled a little as he rammed that cock deep into Mike's mouth
and throat. The dark-skinned boy groaned as that thing went deep
into him, but he did not really mind it at all. Brother Wiley
cackled as he watched the way that Dallas started to fuck that
New Jersey kid's mouth. "Yeah, Dallas, give it to him," Brother
Wiley said, rubbing his own crotch. "Fuck him deep and fuck him
good." Dallas was sweating and trembling there on his knees. The
muscles in his slender body seemed to be flexing all over the
place, Brother Wiley thought. When Dallas was fucking a mouth, he
was a sexy creature, one of God's best creatures, the preacher
figured. The dark-haired boy licked his lips and then sighed to
Brother Wiley. "I am going to come." "Pull it out of him. Come on
his face, Dallas," the preacher ordered. Dallas let go of Mike's
head and pulled his prick out of the dark-skinned boy's mouth.
Mike lay back on the floor as Dallas clutched his own stiff pole
and started to jerk on it. But the New Jersey lad kept his mouth
open. He was thirsty again, thirsty for some of that warm, sweet
come that would soon be flying out of the end of that dork. The
come shot from the cock and landed on Mike's face and throat and
chest and some his lips and tongue too. And the preacher watched
the boy catch that come and cackled with delight.

	A lot of the boys here fall in love with each other," Steve
explained to the sympathetic reporter. "I don't see a damned
thing wrong with that. A boy has got to have a little love in his
life. Two of the boys who worked for Uncle C.J. are men now and
they run their own garage over about a hundred miles from here.
Brad and Louis. They are lovers and they have a thriving business
and every summer they take off and go on a vacation together.
They usually stop by here in their car and they have a few of the
boys themselves. They pay good money for those boys and they sit
around and tell those boys that they were here and they made it
good in their lives. Gives the boys here some inspiration,
talking to Brad and Louis. Course, Louis is sort of a pansy. A
real queen, you know. But, shit, that queer can break down a
motor and put it together again in no time at all. He knows his
motors and he's good with his hands."

	When Drew was finished with Ricky's nipples, the boy and the
young man stripped quickly. Then Drew sat on the edge of the bed
and spread his hairy legs wide. Ricky slipped between those legs
and moved his fingers over those balls and that cock. As he
touched Drew's privates with one hand, he touched his own nipple
with the other, and he sighed. Then the redhead lowered his mouth
to that cock and opened his soft lips and slipped them over the
tip of the organ. "Oh, yeah," Drew said. "Suck it. Suck that
thing." The prick was already pretty hard. It had gotten that way
from the excitement Drew had felt when he had sucked on those
perfect, boyish nipples. But it grew even harder now that Ricky's
soft lips were working up and down on the meat. As Ricky sucked
that cock, he moved his fingers over Drew's hairy balls. And the
man leaned back and groaned to the lad. "I am going to come. I
want to shoot right into your mouth, kid." Ricky squeezed those
balls playfully and kept sucking. He did not mind taking a nice
load of male cream into his mouth and swallowing it. He did not
mind that at all. Especially since Drew was his first stud from
the gift shop. He sucked on that cock and pressed his freckled
face down toward the man's hairy body. He took most of the meaty
organ into his mouth and throat. And then he heard that tell-tale
sound coming from deep inside Drew's throat. And he knew that the
eruption was coming. When the first warm splatter of male joy hit
his throat, Ricky sighed and swallowed it. He moved his lips back
to the tip of the organ and caressed the base of the dork with
his fingers. He milked that cock of its cream. And, as Drew
groaned with passion, Ricky swallowed it all.

	Steve and Kevin looked out the window of Steve's office and
watched all those boys running around down there, serving the
cars and trucks that pulled in. "They have to work too," Steve
said. "They have to work hard. No matter how sexy a boy is, he is
not going to get by here just on his good looks. He is going to
have to do something regular here." Kevin turned and looked at
Steve and said, "Lance, the little blond." "Yeah? What about
him?" "What does he do here? What kind of work, I mean?" Steve
smiled. He knew then that Lance had visited Kevin in his room. He
had figured that some boy had, and now that he knew it was that
little blond he knew that Kevin had had a fine time. "Lance is
one of the best assistant cooks we ever had in the restaurant.
Mostly pastry. That's what he prepares. Pastry filled with
cream." Kevin grinned. The little blond was like a piece of
pastry filled with cream himself, the writer thought.

	When Dallas was finished with his orgasm, he got up and left
the room quietly and quickly. Mike was a little sorry to see the
naked lad go. The dark-skinned boy glanced down at his own cock
and saw that it was full and hard. He grasped that cock with his
hand and stroked on it, and he looked at the crazy kidnapping
preacher. "What next?" he asked softly. "Go ahead and jerk
yourself off, New Jersey," Brother Wiley said. "I wouldn't mind
seeing that." Mike tightened his hold on the prick and moved the
skin back and forth in a quick rhythm. But, even as he felt the
passion growing in his dork, he was worried. He did not know what
Brother Wiley would do to him. He wondered if he would ever see
the sunlight again. Still, his cock needed this jerking. He
needed to come. Mike started to churn on the floor and felt the
shackle around his ankle again. He looked down at that metal
thing around his ankle and groaned. And then he started to come,
started to shoot. And Brother Wiley cackled and rubbed his own
crotch as the dark-skinned boy exploded with male, young lust.
"Nothing better than a naked boy coming," Brother Wiley sighed.
"Nothing better on God's good earth."

	Late that evening, Eli showed up at the truck stop. Eli was
a tall, black trucker with a huge head of bushy hair, and he was
one of the special regulars at Steve's place. He was loud and
funny. All the boys liked him. He pulled his big rig up in front
of the truck stop and jumped out and yelled, "Where are my sweet
things?" The boys who were working there moved toward him
quickly. Eli always paid well too. "My sweet things!" the big,
black trucker yelled. "You all know me! You all know that Eli is
the best!" And the boys stood around him and chuckled. Eli looked
over the crowd and saw Jeff, the blond stud. "I want you, sweet
thing!" he said, pointing at Jeff. "Sure thing, Eli," the blond
said with a grin. And then Eli ran his eyes over the crowd again
and selected another boy--a cocoa-colored boy with big, brown
eyes named Joey. "You!" the big trucker yelled. "I want you,
sweet thing!" Joey just smiled and nodded his head. "You know the
blond god over there?" Eli asked. "I know him," Joey said softly.
"But, how well do you know him?" The other boys in the crowd
laughed, and Joey figured out what Eli was getting at. He looked
at the blond and said, "I don't know him that well, but I would
like to." "Good," Eli said in a booming tone. "I like boys who
want to get to know each other." And then Eli started to walk
toward the truck stop to rent a room. He turned back and motioned
for Jeff and Joey to follow him. And the blond stud and the
cocoa-colored boy did just that. As they followed Eli, Jeff moved
close to Joey and said, "He's had me before. It's sort of fun. I
will lead you through it." "Thanks," Joey said softly. "I
appreciate that." And, as Joey looked over the body of the stud
with the golden hair, he suspected that he would appreciating
much more than just Jeff's leadership before the evening was
over.

	Brother Wiley had once been a famous television preacher in
California. He had been on TV stations all over the nation,
preaching his own special brand of religion--a religion that did
not did not humiliate sinners. And he had been a dynamic
television personality. People had watched him because they could
never tell what he was going to attack. It might be the women's
movement. It might be other television preachers. It might even
be the federal government. But then, one terrible day, the man on
the floor of the studio did not give Brother Wiley enough warning
when the show started. And, for several minutes, the cameras
picked up the image of Brother Wiley rubbing the crotch of a boy
who was standing next to him, and the cameras sent that image out
all over the land. God damn that satellite hook-up, Brother Wiley
had often thought. In the days of videotape and delays, you could
edit out a sight like that so as not to offend your viewers. But
Brother Wiley was beamed into the atmosphere and that image of
him rubbing that crotch went down into homes all over the nation.
The telephones at his command center lit up like Christmas trees.
It was rumored that at least one of his regular viewers, an
elderly woman who sent in a monthly check for one hundred dollars
from Dayton, Ohio, died of a heart attack from the shock of what
she had seen. And Brother Wiley was driven from the airwaves
almost immediately. But Brother Wiley had saved a little of his
money and was able to buy this farm. He had enough to live on for
the rest of his life. Still, he missed the sense of celebrity,
the way that other people used to stare whenever he would walk
into the room. It had been ten years since Brother Wiley had been
ousted from the airwaves, but he still missed that fine, sweet
stardom. He sat there and watched the dark-skinned boy sleeping
on the floor and Brother Wiley felt a little bit like a star
still. With a naked boy in captivity, the preacher thought, he
still had a sense that what he did mattered to someone. It
mattered to that naked boy.

	He stepped inside, letting Jeff and Joey enter first. The
blond stud and the cocoa-colored boy sat down on the bed in their
cut-offs and smiled up at the big, black trucker. "Sure feels
good to be back here," Eli said in his booming voice. "Feels
good. Feels damned good." Then Eli looked down on the two boys
and smiled. "Feels good to be with a couple of studs," he said.
"Feels damned good to be with two good-looking boys." And Jeff
moved his hand over Joey's thigh and grinned at the dark-skinned
boy. "You want the regular, Eli?" the blond, tanned stud asked
softly. "Yeah. The regular. Damned good. The regular is always
damned good, you know." Joey looked at Jeff and his eyes asked
the question: What was the regular? Jeff answered that silent
question in a soft and soothing voice. "Eli likes to watch two
guys make it together," the blond stud said. "He thinks that's
really sexy, and I think he's right." "Okay," Joey said to Jeff.
And the cocoa-colored boy then looked up at Eli and said it
again. "Okay." "I'll take control if that is all right, Eli,"
Jeff said. "I've done this with you before." "Yeah, you take
control," the big, black trucker said, slipping down into a chair
and stretching his long legs out in front of him. "You take
control. That would be damned good." The blond stud slipped his
hand up Joey's dark thigh and touched the bulge in the kid's
cut-offs. Joey smiled and leaned back slightly and then Jeff
moved close to him. The blond stud massaged Joey's bulge as he
brought his handsome face close to the dark-skinned boy's. "Yeah,
kiss him," Eli said in a groaning tone. "You know what old Eli
likes, don't you, golden boy?" Jeff smiled when he heard that
term. Golden boy. Yes, he thought, the golden boy knew just what
Eli liked to see. Jeff pressed his mouth against Joey's and
forced that mouth open with his tongue. He drove that tongue into
Joey's mouth as the cocoa-colored boy slipped his arms around
Jeff and held him close. "That looks great," Eli sighed. "Go to
it. Go to it good." After the long, tongue-twisting kiss was
over, Jeff pushed Joey back gently. The dark-skinned youth lay
back on the bed and Jeff started to move his lips around Joey's
neck and shoulders. The kisses the blond stud--the golden
boy--gave to Joey were soft and wet and exciting. And then the
blond's mouth worked down to one of Joey's coal-dark nipples.
Jeff turned his head to one side and smiled for a split second to
Eli. The big, black trucker was rubbing his own crotch and
smiling too. "Go get that nipple, golden boy," Eli growled. And
then Jeff turned his face back to that nipple and stuck out his
tongue and speared that sexy male flesh. Joey jumped and yelped a
little with that spearing. And then Jeff pressed his mouth
against the nipple and started to suck on the thing. It was
sweet, like chocolate candy, Jeff thought. And Eli opened his
pants and reached inside and pulled out a long, thick cock as he
groaned at the two young studs on the bed. "Go for it. Love each
other good. Old Eli, he likes seeing that kind of thing. He
really does."

	Dallas walked into the room and saw the dark-skinned boy
lying asleep on the floor. Mike was still naked there, but Dallas
was not surprised by that. After all, Dallas was still naked too.
The naked, dark-haired youth moved toward Brother Wiley and
slipped down between the man's outstretched legs. He leaned his
head back against Brother Wiley's crotch and spoke softly to his
master, so as not to disturb the new captive. "Do you still care
for me?" "Huh?" Brother Wiley asked softly. "Do you still want me
around? Do I still please you in a way?" "Yeah. Sure." "Because,
if you don't, you just tell me and I'll get one of your shotguns
and go off into the woods there and put it in my mouth and blow
my head off." "Shit, I don't want that," Brother Wiley said. "If
you are tired of me, I don't want to go on living," the lad said
softly, truthfully. "You shouldn't even talk about something like
that, Dallas." "It's the truth." "I know, but--" "I'll put the
shotgun in my mouth just like I put your cock in my mouth and
I'll blow my head off. I'll do it for sure. If you want that, you
just tell me that you're tired of me, and you won't have to put
up with me any longer." The thought of Dallas putting a shotgun
in his mouth did something strange to Brother Wiley. It
frightened him, but it turned him on too. The preacher remembered
how sweet it was when Dallas put something else in his mouth,
when Dallas sucked on the man's cock. Brother Wiley put his hand
on the back of Dallas's head and pushed him forward slightly. And
then he unzipped his pants and pulled out his dork. "Come on,
Dallas," he said softly. "This here is better than any god-damned
shotgun. Always has been. Always will be." Dallas smiled and
turned and knelt between the man's legs with his face looking
down at that prick. Yes, the naked, dark-haired lad thought, this
was definitely better than a shotgun. The lad wrapped his fingers
around Brother Wiley's dork. He stroked on the preacher's long
cock and then he pressed his mouth against the tip of that prick.
He gave Brother Wiley a special kiss like that. Then Dallas
opened his lips and took the cock into his mouth. He pressed his
lips tightly around the prick and started to work up and down on
the thing. Brother Wiley sighed and put his hands on Dallas's
head. "Better than a god-damned shotgun," he muttered. "You
shouldn't talk that way, Dallas. Shouldn't talk that way at all."

	After Jeff had worked on Joey's chocolate nipples, he moved
his mouth down the dark-skinned boy's stomach, kissing and
licking his way down to those bulging cut-offs. "Yeah," Eli
growled, "Go to it, golden boy. Get his cock out and suck that
sweet thing." Jeff opened the cut-offs with experienced and
nimble fingers. Joey raised his butt off the bed slightly as Jeff
pulled those cut-offs down his strong, dark legs. Jeff slipped
the cut-offs off Joey's ankles and then looked at that cock, that
long, stiffening cock that Joey had grabbed in his hand. He
looked at the smile on Joey's lips too. He knew that the
dark-skinned boy would welcome that mouth down on that organ.
Then Jeff looked at Eli and saw the big, black trucker smile too.
He tossed Eli the cut-offs that he had just taken off Joey. The
trucker caught them in one hand because the other hand was around
his thick, long, excited member. Eli pressed the cut-offs against
his nose and smiled the fine aroma of Joey on that material. And
then Jeff, with hair of gold and body strong and tanned, bent
down over Joey's dork. As Joey held that cock, Jeff opened his
lips and worked them around the crown of the organ. And he
started to suck as Eli watched it all and murmured into the
shorts over his nose and mouth. "Yeah, suck that thing. Suck it
good. You know just what old Eli wants."

	Brother Wiley's prick grew stiffer as Dallas went up and
down on that tool. And the growls came from deep within the
preacher's throat. Those were the kind of growls that he had once
used on television as he had worked up the wrath of his audience
against the evil, nasty, hateful, devil-worshiping government
bureaucrats who kept questioning his tax-exempt status. Maybe he
had let loose with that kind of growl the night that he had
rubbed that boy's crotch right there in front of the viewing
audience. Brother Wiley tightened his hold on Dallas's head as he
let out that little growl. And then the preacher started to churn
on the chair, to jump up and down. By then, Dallas was no longer
sucking on Brother Wiley's dork. Brother Wiley was fucking the
boy's sweet mouth instead. But Dallas did not seem to mind. He
took that fucking like a loving tyke should. He kept his soft,
male lips tight around the cock and let the thing move in and out
of him with Brother Wiley's hot and churning motion. Then Brother
Wiley let out a louder growl. And it was that growl that work up
the dark-skinned boy on the floor. Mike moved a bit and looked up
and saw the naked, dark-haired lad taking that mouth fucking from
the strange man. Mike slipped over on his stomach and rested his
chin on his hand and smiled at that sight.

	Jeff worked his mouth up and down on the stiffening cock
that Joey offered up to him. The dark-skinned boy ran his fingers
through Jeff's blond, thick hair as the tanned stud sucked on his
dork. And Eli tugged on his own member as he saw Joey getting
hard and longer. The cocoa-colored boy was a little shy, but he
had a nice piece of meat there, Eli found. Nothing at all to be
shy about, the trucker thought. "Golden boy," the trucker
growled. And Jeff moved off the tasty cock and looked at Eli.
"Huh?" he said. "Let him fuck you, golden boy," the big, black
trucker said. "Old Eli wants to see that cock go back and forth
in your ass." Jeff looked down at that prick. He usually did not
get fucked. He was used to driving his own prick into some male's
behind. But Eli was a good customer. And Joey's prick was hard
and sweet and sexy-looking. The blond moved on the bed and opened
his own cut-offs. "All right," he said. "He can fuck my ass." As
Jeff slipped those cut-offs down his legs, Joey grabbed his cock
and could hardly believe what was happening. Jeff, who was about
the sexiest guy at the truck stop, was going to offer up his ass
for fucking, and Joey was going to be able to drive his big prick
into that anal hole. Joey felt as if he were being honored in
some way. "I need lubricant," Jeff said. And Eli knew just where
to find the stuff. He opened a drawer next to the chair where he
was sitting. He pulled out the tube of jell and threw it at the
blond stud. "Grease yourself up, golden boy. Do it with your own
fingers in your own ass-hole. Old Eli wants to see that, golden
boy." "And Eli gets to see whatever he wants to see," Jeff said
with a tempting smile. Eli chortled as he massaged his prick. And
Joey smiled as he rubbed his own hardness, keeping it rigid for
the golden boy. Jeff lay back on the bed and spread his legs
wide. He spread some lubricant from the tube onto two of his
fingers. And then he smiled at Eli as he moved those fingers down
past his cock and his balls and touched his own ass-hole. The
muscles in the blond's body flexed as he moved those fingers over
the opening of his sweet anus. Those fingers went into Jeff's
ass-hole and the stud shivered with the pleasure that the
lubricant gave to his soul. "Oh, I love fucking my own ass," the
blond moaned. And Eli grasped his cock tightly and moaned too.
Joey just continued to stroke on his mighty member, knowing that
he was going to be fucking that hot ass at any moment. He watched
as the blond slipped those fingers deeper and deeper into his
ass-hole.

	Brother Wiley began to explode in Dallas's sweet and sexy
mouth. And Dallas swallowed that semen with delight. Mike could
tell by the growls that came from Brother Wiley and the gulping
sounds that came from Mike, could tell just what was happening
between the two of them. When Dallas took his mouth off the
organ, he licked the head of the thing. The dark-haired boy
seemed to want to clean every drop of come from the preacher's
prick. Brother Wiley then stared at the smiling, dark-skinned
boy. "What you looking at, New Jersey?" The captive boy's eyes
grew wide with fear. He wondered if he had done something wrong,
something that would make the preacher angry, something that
would get him hurt badly. "Nothing," Mike muttered. "I didn't
know that you would mind. I just woke up. I'm really sorry. I
really am." The preacher pushed Dallas away from his loins and
stood up. "Don't like to be watched," he snarled. "I was watched
once and it ruined me for life." Brother Wiley moved closer to
the captive boy, and Mike tried to roll into a little ball. He
thought that, if he rolled up tightly enough, the man would not
be able to hurt him. But the boy from New Jersey was wrong. When
the preacher kicked him in the chest, it hurt. It hurt like hell!
The preacher was wearing cowboy boots with pointed toes. He
kicked the captive boy again and again with those pointed, brutal
toes. He kicked Mike's shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his
thighs. He even moved around the sighing boy and kicked him in
the ass too. Then the preacher marched out of the room quickly
and slammed the door behind him. With tears in his eyes, the
dark-skinned boy looked at Dallas and moaned in his pain. "I'm
sorry. I didn't know. God, he hurt me bad." "You shouldn't have
looked," the naked, dark-haired lad said. "He doesn't like it
when someone looks." "I didn't know," Mike wept. "Now you do."
Then the naked, dark-haired boy moved to his feet and strolled
out of the room too. Mike was left there on the floor to suffer
and to weep for he had been caught peeping when he should have
kept his eyes closed.

	When his ass was greased and ready, Jeff moved up on his
hands and knees and raised that ass high, offering it up to the
cocoa-colored stud. "Oh, fuck me, please," the blond muttered.
Joey moved into position behind the sexy, tanned , muscular stud
and took a deep breath. He put his hands on those ass-cheeks and
spread them slightly and looked at that well-lubricated hole.
"Oh, give me that pole, Joey. Give the fucking I need," the blond
murmured. Joey was not sure if Jeff was saying these things to
thrill Eli or if he was saying them because he meant them.
Ultimately, the dark-skinned boy thought, it did not make any
difference. Jeff was putting a lot of feeling into the words. If
he did not mean them, he was a damned good actor. Joey pressed
his long cock against the anal opening that the blond offered up
to him. He pressed the crown of the cock against that ass-hole.
"Oh, Joey, I need it," Jeff groaned as he felt that thick piece
of meat slip into him and stretch his ass to new dimensions.
"Give it to me. Fuck me. Fuck me good." Eli growled and stroked
on his cock. And then he saw about two inches of that prick go
into the blond's ass. Eli knew that Jeff did not often get
fucked. That made the sight even more delightful for him. He knew
that Jeff was submitting to something special for him. And he
suspected that Jeff was enjoying it too. The blond slipped his
hand down under his body and grabbed his own cock and groaned as
Joey pressed more and more of the prick in his ass. "I love it,"
the blond groaned. "I love it too," Joey sighed. And then the
cocoa-colored stud took another deep breath and shoved that prick
deep into Jeff, as deep as it would go. And Eli could seen the
sexual tension run through the blond's strong, tanned body. As
Joey started to work his cock in and out of Jeff, Eli sighed and
started to come. Who wouldn't come when watching a delicious
sight like that? But it did not matter to the two young studs any
longer that Eli was shooting all over his side of the little
room. By now Joey and Jeff were in the midst of the pleasure of
the fucking. Jeff was twisting and churning his butt against
Joey's balls. And that cock was giving him heat in his backside,
the kind of heat that any blond stud would love.

	The next afternoon, the vans pulled into the truck stop. A
young man got out from behind the wheel of the first van and
looked around the place. "This is ideal," he said to himself. "A
fuck stop truck stop, I've heard it called." One of the sexy
boys--a sweet one named Skippy--ran up to the man. "Fill her up?
Check that oil?" Skippy said with a grin. "This is the famous
Steve's Truck Stop, isn't it?" the man said. "Yes, sir," Skippy
said with an impish grin. "How can we serve you?" As the boy
asked that question, he ran his hand over the bulge in his
cut-offs. The man noticed that movement, but he did not say
anything for a moment. Then he asked, "Is there really a Steve?"
"Yes, sir," Skippy said. "There is a Steve. He sits in his office
up on the second floor." "Take me to Steve," the young man said.
"I have a proposition for him." "A proposition?" Skippy said. "No
one ever propositions Steve. That's why the boys are here. We are
the ones who get the propositions, you see. Steve, he just--"
"Take me to him. I have business to discuss." Skippy knew that he
had better do what the man said. So he shrugged his shoulders and
then turned toward the truck stop. The man followed. And all the
other boys who worked out front turned and looked at the young
man. Then they looked at all the other males who were in the two
vans. And they wondered what was going on. A raid? No, it
couldn't be that. Who would want to raid Steve's Truck Stop? One
of the boys crept close to the second van and glanced inside. He
thought that the two young studs who sat in there looked vaguely
familiar. But he could not really place them. Who could they be?
Celebrities, maybe? Maybe.

	The young man introduced himself to Steve. "The name is
Calhoun. People who know my work call me Bronco Calhoun. I don't
know if you have ever heard of me, but--" "Sure," Steve said,
sitting behind his desk and opening his eyes wide. "I've heard of
you. You make porn movies." "I make films of male erotic content
," the young man corrected Steve. "Oh, sure. Those too." "And I
want to make a film here at your truck stop." "What?" "I've heard
about this place. I think it's ideal for what I have in mind.
I've brought some of my own actors with me, and we could use some
of your boys too. That one who escorted me to your office--"
"Skippy?" "Yes, he would be nice for a minor role." "Well--"
"Naturally, I would pay handsomely for the use of your
facilities." "Well," Steve said slowly, "what kind of film do you
want to make here?" "You know the famous silent classic, The
Birth of a Nation?" "I've heard of it." "Well, I want to make a
film like that--only male and erotic in content." "Wasn't that
movie about the Civil War and the Klan and stuff like that?"
"Well, this one will be about a truck stop instead." "Oh." "It
will be extravagant. A masterpiece. I will worry about camera
angles and lighting. I will develop themes and carry them
through. I will work with texture and subtle shadings of meaning
and tone. I will create a legendary film. I will space no
expense." "How long do you think it will take you to do that?"
"Two days. Tops. " "Well--okay, let's talk money." And then Steve
and Bronco Calhoun started to speak of funds. The money Bronco
was willing to pay for the use of the truck stop was quiet a bit.
And Steve knew that it would thrill his boys to have a porn movie
shot there on the premises. Shit, Steve thought, it would thrill
him too. The film-maker and the business man came to a quick
financial agreement.

	 When Dallas came into the room that day with the water and
the bowl of mush, Mike looked up at the naked, dark-haired boy
and asked, "Don't you ever put on any clothes?" "I live here with
Brother Wiley. I don't need clothes," Dallas said, and then he
put down the water and the mush. "I need a spoon or something,"
Mike said, looking down at the mush. "Eat it with your fingers,"
Dallas said firmly. Mike ran his dark-skinned fingers through the
mush and raised them to his lips and sucked the mush off his
fingers. Dallas sat down in the chair at the side of the room and
watched the naked, captive boy. "Where is Brother Wiley?" Mike
asked. "I don't know. He never tells me where he is going.
Sometimes he just leaves and comes back home with trash like
you." Mike could tell that Dallas was angry with him. And the
captive boy grew angry too. "Listen, bastard," he said, "I didn't
ask to be brought here. Unshackle me and see how quickly I get
the fuck out of here." Dallas looked down at the metal thing
around the boy's ankle. Mike saw the way Dallas was staring at
that shackle and then he smiled. "You can set me free, can't
you?" Mike asked. "It wouldn't matter. He would just show up with
another piece of trash from the highway." "But, at least, you
would be rid of me, Dallas," Mike said, coaxing the naked boy on.
"Then, if Brother Wiley couldn't find a piece of trash on the
highway, you would have him all to yourself." "He would be mad."
"You could suck his cock and get rid of his anger, I bet." "He
would hit me." "And then he would love you, right?" Dallas stood
up quickly and headed for the door. "I'll get the key," he said,
"but you better never come back here." "Believe me," the boy from
the highway said. "I will never come back here, Dallas. I will
leave you and Brother Wiley all alone." All alone to rot in hell,
the captive boy thought. Then he fingered out some more of the
mush and ate it. He would need his nourishment as he ran through
the woods, he thought.

	Some of the boys at the truck stop had seen male porn films
on videotapes that Steve kept in his office to play on his
machine there. Those boys recognized the two young studs who sat
in the restaurant, drinking coffee and grinning at each other.
The blond one's name was Tab Townsend. He had a huge cock, one of
the biggest in the porn movie business. The one with the dark
hair was named Mitch Jerome. He usually took it up the ass in
porn movies, and it was rumored that he would take a yard of
prick up his behind, although no one had ever seen him really
take that much in the films. "They are legends," Jeff said
softly, looking at the two guys through the big window in the
front of the restaurant. "Wish I could be a legend like that,"
Joey, the cocoa-colored boy, mutte red. Jeff turned and grinned
at Joey. "Maybe some day you will," the blond stud said. "You got
the stuff that legends are made of. I know that from personal
experience." And Joey just cast his eyes down bashfully when Jeff
complimented him in that way. And then the word went out to the
boys. Steve wanted to see all of them in his office. An army of
young studs ran up the stairs to that second-floor office. Soon
they were all standing there and looking at Steve as Bronco
Calhoun looked over all of them. "We are going to be making a
movie here at the truck stop for the next couple of days," Steve
said. "A movie with male erotic content." The young man who ran
the truck stop glanced at the movie director and saw Bronco
smile. Then Steve continued. "If any of you would like to be in
this film, just hang around and let Mister Calhoun here look you
over. Don't feel bad if he doesn't select you, however. He tells
me he is looking for certain types. If he doesn't want you in his
movie, that doesn't mean that you aren't sexy." Then Steve took a
deep breath. "Any of you who would prefer not to be in the movie
may leave now and get back to work." Not one boy left the office.
Bronco Calhoun smiled and thought of all the options.

	Dallas unlocked the shackle and Mike slowly moved his foot
out of the metal thing. He rubbed his ankle as the naked,
dark-haired boy threw his pants and his shoes down on the floor.
"I don't know what happened to your shirt," he said. "That's
okay. I don't need it." "Get out of here. Right now." Mike pulled
the jeans on and slowly stood up. He was a little dizzy from
lying on the floor for so long, but he knew he would get used to
standing very quickly. Then he stepped into his shoes and he was
ready to go. Dallas moved toward the door and Mike followed him.
They went through another room and then they looked out the back
door of the house. "Go that way," Dallas said. "When you get to
the trees keep moving down the mountain. You will get the highway
soon enough." Mike took a deep breath. He felt like thanking the
angry, naked lad. But, instead, he just pushed the back door open
and started to run, started to head for the trees. Dallas watched
the dark-skinned boy go and knew that he would have hell to pay
when Brother Wiley got back. But he did not mind. He would suffer
through that hell and then he would have the preacher all to
himself. That would be worth the hell for sure, Dallas thought.

	When Bronco Calhoun pointed at the redhead, Ricky grinned.
"You. Definitely you," the director said. And Ricky felt like
jumping up and down from happiness. Bronco glanced at the
sweet-faced Skippy and nodded his head. "You," he said. "I think
you know your stuff." Skippy ran his fingers over the bulge in
his shorts again. He would show the movie-maker, he thought, just
well, indeed, he knew his stuff. Then Bronco looked over the
crowd again and pointed at a lad with long, dark hair. "You." The
boy's name was Jay and he grinned when he was chosen. Bronco
looked at the blond, tanned stud and thought of the other blond
he had in his acting company. It might be nice to film this guy
with Tab, he thought. Blond on blond. He pointed at Jeff and
said, "You." Joey was beginning to get nervous. It seemed that
the young man had looked at him and dozen times and had kept his
eyes moving right over him to another stud. The cocoa-colored
stud wanted badly to be in this movie. He wanted to be something
of a star, something of a legend. Bronco Calhoun pointed at the
little blond named Lance and said, "You. For a minor part in the
orgy." Lance didn't mind being in a minor part. He actually
clapped in happiness once he was chosen. Joey glanced at Lance
and wondered what that kid had that he didn't have. He was
beginning to think that, if he did not get chosen for this film,
he would surely die from a broken heart. Bronco pointed at one
boy with sandy-colored hair and big green eyes. That boy's name
was Tony. "You," he said. "For a few close-ups during the orgy."
Then Bronco pointed at a lanky kid with dark, curly hair. "You,"
he said. The boy, whose name was Jim, grinned. Again and again,
Joey felt himself being left out. Finally, he could not stop
himself. Even though he was naturally shy, he found himself
speaking up to Bronco Calhoun. "What's the matter? You some kind
of racist or something ?" Bronco just looked at the cocoa-colored
stud. And Joey felt his shyness melting away as he rubbed the
crotch of his cut-offs and said, "I can do anything you want for
the camera. I bet the camera would just love my ass." Then Joey
opened his cut-offs and turned his back on Bronco Calhoun and
dropped those cut-offs down to his ankles. He bent over and
wiggled his cocoa-colored ass at the film-maker. "Don't you think
the camera will love this thing?" he said in his most tempting
voice. Bronco stood there for a long, few seconds and crossed his
arms over his chest. Joey was suddenly very nervous. He wondered
if he had made a damned fool of himself. But then Bronco stepped
closer to him and unfolded his arms and touched those dark
buttocks. He squeezed a buttock with each hand and he said, "I
don't know about the camera, but I sure love your ass." Joey
looked back over his shoulder and smiled. He knew he had a part
in the picture now.

	Mike ran through the woods, ran down the mountain, searching
for the highway. Once he got to the highway, he thought, he would
be safe and secure. And he would be able to forget all about that
crazy preacher and that naked, angry boy and the ordeal that he
had suffered through in that little house up there in the middle
of nowhere. All he wanted to do was forget. When the long-hanging
branches him in the face and the chest, he just kept running. He
wanted to see that highway. He wanted to hit the highway and
stick out his thumb and get the hell out of that miserable part
of that miserable state. Finally, he saw the highway below him
and he stopped and grinned and breathed in the sweet air of
freedom. The freedom smelled like the exhaust of the big trucks
that were roaring down that highway below him, he thought.

	We will start filming in about two hours," Bronco announced
to the boys he had chosen for the film. And then as the crowd of
happy, chosen lads started to break up, Bronco approached Joey,
who had pulled up his cut-offs. "Until t he filming begins," he
said, "I want to get to know you a little better." Steve heard
that and grinned and said, "Sure, we will give you and all your
crew and cast rooms for free here." "Thanks," Bronco said. But he
kept looking at the cocoa-colored stud as he said that word, and
Steve did not know for sure if Bronco was thanking him for the
room-- Or for the chance to fuck that dark-skinned stud in the
ass. Then Steve grinned and suspected that it really did not
matter at all.

	Ricky ran back to the gift shop to give the news to Mort.
"There are going to make a porn movie here, and I am going to be
in it. The director, a guy named Bronco, he chose me first, Mort.
He chose me as the very first one." Mort grinned and rubbed his
bad leg and felt happy for the excited redhead.

	Jim moved by Lance, the little blond, and said it softly. "I
hope you and I will have a chance to get it on in front of the
cameras. I've always had the hots for you." "Really?" Lance
asked. "Really." "Why didn't you say so? We could have been
having fun together for a long time by now?" "I don't know," Jim
said softly. "I guess I am sort of shy at heart." And then Jim
pulled Lance into his arms and gave the little blond a long and
passionate kiss. No doubt about it. Jim was not shy at heart
right then, Lance thought.

	Jeff stood at the door of the restaurant and looked at the
two stars who sat in the booth drinking their coffee. Then the
blond stud worked up his courage and approached the two famed
porn actors. "Hi," he said, "my name is Jeff." "Hi," the
dark-haired one said, "my name is Mitch and this is--" "Oh, I
know who both of you guys are," Jeff said. "Mister Calhoun just
selected me for the movie you are going to make here." Tab
Townsend, the blond with the huge, famous cock, grinned at Jeff
and said, "Bronco has excellent taste." "He said we would start
filming in about two hours," Jeff said softly. "Two hours?" Mitch
Jerome said with a grin. "That must mean that Bronco has found a
boy he wants to work up a little inspiration with." "Yeah," the
blond star said. "Remember in Houston, Mitch? That young kid in
the big cowboy hat?" "The one with the tight, tight jeans," the
other actor said, as if he could still appreciate the sight of
those jeans. "Yeah, that one," Tab Townsend said. "We didn't get
started with the filming in Houston for almost half a day." "And
Bronco came out wearing the kid's cowboy hat," Mitch said with a
cackle. "And the kid came out walking like he had a flag-pole up
his ass," Tab added with a giggle. Jeff just stood there and
listened to that story and smiled. Then the blond from the truck
stop said, "Bronco picked my friend Joey to spend some time with.
Joey is black. But not really black. He is sort of, you know,
deep brown." "Deep brown," Mitch said.

	"Yeah, I imagine Bronco is going to get into some deep brown
too," Tab Townsend muttered. And the two movie stars broke into
laughter again. As that laughter subsided, Tab moved over in the
booth and said, "Sit down with us, stud. Tell us all about life
at the truck stop." And Jeff grinned proudly and moved into the
booth next to the blond star with the legendary prick.

	Skippy stood in front of the truck stop and bragged to the
boys who weren't chosen for the film. "I'm the first one he saw,"
the sweet-faced lad said. "I was the one who dashed up and
offered to fill it up and check that oil. I was the one who took
him to see Steve." "Luck, sheer, fucking luck," one of the
disappointed lads muttered. "Well," Skippy said, "maybe it was
luck. But he chose me just the same. I'm going to be in a porn
movie!" "Yeah," another boy growled. "Make sure you write your
grandma so that she can go and see you take it up the kazoo from
some guy." "My grandma is a very nice woman," Skippy said
earnestly. "And she loves me. I bet she would be proud of
anything I did."

	Joey was naked in the little room. He turned around slowly,
letting Bronco

	Calhoun see his sexy body from every possible angle. When
Joey had his back turned to Bronco, the film-maker, who was naked
too, reached out and touched the dark-skinned lad's hips and held
him still and steady. "Just like that, " he said. "That's the
part of you I like best." Joey looked back over his shoulder and
gave Bronco a sexy smile as the movie maker started to pull on
his meaty dork and make it hard and stiff and full.

	"Oh, shit," Mike sighed as he saw the truck coming down the
highway. And the dark-skinned escapee dived into a deep ditch and
lay there gasping. He was lucky. He had recognized the truck
before Brother Wiley had seen him standing there by the side of
the road. The truck moved on past Mike, but the lad from the
highway lay in the ditch for a long, long time, just to make sure
that he had truly escaped that crazy preacher. Then Mike slowly
climbed out of the ditch and gasped and stuck out his thumb. A
big, white, dirty car was coming down the highway. The car
stopped a few yards in front of Mike. The boy ran to the car and
looked into the window and saw the big, fat, tanned man sitting
there. "Where you headed?" the fat man said. "Anywhere. Just out
of here," Mike gasped. "Well, get in, son," the man said in a
friendly tone. And Mike opened the door to the dirty, white car
and slipped into the front seat and grinned.

	He felt very good as the fat, tanned man gunned the motor
and took off down the highway. Away, Mike thought, away from
here, away from Brother Wiley, away from pain. He was actually
getting away.

	Bronco Calhoun's cock was long and stiff and ready. He put
his hands on Joey 's buttocks and spread them as the
cocoa-colored stud leaned forward and pressed his hands flat
against the wall. "Standing up like a man," Bronco said. " That's
the way I like to see a guy take it up the ass." Joey looked back
over his shoulder and smiled again. "Don't worry, Bronco," he
said with a sweet and sexy tone. "I can take it like a man. I can
take all the meat you got to offer my ass-hole." And then Joey
leaned forward a little more and steadied himself for the
invasion. It came quickly, with a mighty and hard and manly
thrust. Bronco Calhoun drove his cock up Joey's bung-hole and the
cocoa-colored stud sighed with lust. "Oh, fuck me. Give it to me.
Right up the ass. Fuck my ass, Bronco. That feels so fucking
good."

	It was bad enough that Brother Wiley had not found any new
boys out on the highway. But then, when the preacher returned and
found that Dallas had let that other boy go, he exploded with
wrath. He slapped the naked, dark-haired boy and sent Dallas
tumbling into the floor. "You shit," he snarled. "You jealous,
little shit." He kicked at Dallas with his pointed-toe boots.
Dallas sighed when the boot went into his ribs. It hurt like
hell. But he knew that he had to suffer for what he had done,
suffer and then yearn for the preacher who meant so fucking much
to him. "You shit!" Brother Wiley yelled again. And Dallas closed
his eyes and sighed. He was glad to be along with his beloved
again.

	"You got to understand something, Mister Calhoun," Joey said
as he pulled his cut-offs up his strong, sexy legs. "You got to
understand how much being in your movie means to me. You see, all
my life I've been sort of shy." "Shy?" The movie-maker looked at
that nice, meaty cock as it disappeared into the cut-offs once
again. But Joey explained. "All my life, I never caused any
trouble. All my life, I never wanted to make anybody mad at me.
The reason I got into hustling was that--well, guys always seemed
to see that I liked doing those things. They used to be able to
read it in my eyes, I guess. And it was easier to do it than turn
guys down." "Okay," the movie-maker said, nodding hi s head. "All
my life, I wanted to be somebody," Joey murmured. "All my life, I
wanted to bust right out of my shyness and say, 'Listen up,
world, you better notice me.' I never liked being shy. Nobody
does. I always wanted to take control my of life. To really bust
out and grow into something, you see. And this movie, it may give
me the chance to do just that, you know. To bust out." As Joey
closed his cut-offs and zipped them up, Bronco Calhoun smiled.
The cocoa-colored kid was certainly about ready to bust right out
of something, the movie maker thought. His basket was huge and
bulging in those tight shorts. "Okay," Bronco said, "I'll make
you a star." But the young man was looking at the bulge when he
said that. And Joey wondered if his cock was going to be the
star, if the rest of him would just have to go along for the
ride.

	The fat man was a lighting technician who had been working
for Bronco Calhoun for years. He moved around the garage that
afternoon as if he were half-asleep, as if he had seen everything
that there was to see in this world and had found it lacking. He
carried the lights around and tested them with a certain kind of
bored dignity. At least that was what the little blond named
Lance thought. Lance watched the fat man closely. The blond was a
little nervous. Bronco Calhoun had told him that he would in the
first scene to be shot--a threesome with Mitch Jerome, one of the
biggest porn stars in the business, and Jim, the kid with the
curly, dark hair who had already told Lance that he had lusted
for the blond for a long, long time. Lance suspected that, once
things really got started, his nervousness would drain out of him
very quickly. But it was in him now--like quick-silver in his
veins. Bronco was talking to his cameraman, an elderly guy who,
strangely, still had jet black hair. The old coot listened
closely and Bronco explained the way he wanted the camera to move
during the scene. Mitch Jerome was sitting on a stool in the
corner of the garage, reading a magazine and waiting for the
action to begin. He seemed to be as bored as the fat lighting
technician, Lance thought. But Jim was not bored at all. The kid
with the curly, dark hair was standing in the middle of the
garage, grinning with excitement and looking at Lance, at Mitch,
at Bronco, and then back to Lance again. Finally, the movie maker
had things worked out with his elderly cameraman. "You got it,
Ronnie?" he asked the old fart, just to make sure. The man ran
his fingers through his black hair and grinned. "I got it,
Bronco," he said. Then the director turned and called out to his
three actors. "Mitch, boys, front and center." Jim and Lance
scampered over to the young man. Mitch Jerome leisurely put down
his magazine and slipped off his stool and walked toward the
director. Bronco started to explain things--more for Jim and
Lance than for Mitch, of course. "Okay, boys, I never use sound
in my movies. I think it detracts of the beauty of the image. So
the two of you will have to emote without words." "What do you
mean?" Lance asked. "Show me your lust and your longing in your
expressions," Bronco explained. "Oh, that will be easy," the
dark-haired kid from the truck stop said. And then Jim glanced at
Lance and the blond could see that lust and longing in his
friend's eyes already. "Now this is the scene," the movie maker
explained. "You two boys are sitting in the garage laughing with
each other. Then you start to feel each other up just a little
bit. But then Mitch comes in. At first, you stop what you are
doing and then you notice the way that Mitch is looking at you
and the two of you--at the same time--attack him and throw him
down and make him suck your cocks and then you take turns fucking
him." "Sounds like a good scene," Lance said. "Sounds like every
fucking scene I've ever been in," Mitch Jerome said. "Oh, no,
Mitch," the director said. "This is going to be different."

	"What? You got whips this time?" "No, Mitch." "You got
ropes?" "No. I got texture. I want texture in the scene. I want
the audience to feel the emotion in the texture of the image."
Mitch just shrugged his shoulders. It was obvious to Lance that
the actor did not understand what his director was talking about.
But that was all right. Lance didn't understand it either. "Okay,
boys," the director said. "Let's shoot it. You two studs should
be sitting on that little bench over there when the scene
starts." He pointed to a bench at the side of the garage. Lance
and Jim, excited and filled with cinema frenzy, ran toward that
bench and sat down next to each other there. Then the old guy
with the jet black hair moved the little camera in close and the
fat man readjusted a couple of lights. And everything was ready
for the scene to begin. "Okay, boys," Bronco said, standing
behind the camera. "I will talk you through the scene. Just
listen to me and keep looking at each other." Then the director
said that magic word. "Action." Lance and Jim--in their cut-offs
and nothing else-looked at each other. Yes, the blond could see
that lust and longing in Jim's eyes, and he hoped that Ronnie was
capturing that look on film. Jim smiled at Lance and raised up
one hand and put his fingers against the flesh of the blond's
chest. That touch was wild, soft, thrilling, lively. Lance felt
his chest expand a bit as Jim let those fingers slip down over
his nipple and then work their way down over the blond's stomach.
"That's right," Bronco said. "Touch his basket now." Those
fingers went over the bulge in the blond's cut-offs and Lance and
Jim smiled sweetly at each other. "Love those smiles," the
director said. "Keep them." That would easy to do, Lance thought.
It would be very easy to smile at Jim as the dark-haired youth
was caressing that bulge in Lance's cut-offs with his fingers.
"Okay, stud, you touch him too," the director said. And Lance
knew that the director was talking to him. The blond thought of
reaching out and touching Jim's bulge right away. But then he
came up with a better idea. He stretched out his tanned arm and
put his fingers on the back of Jim's neck. And he pulled the
young stud toward him slowly as the director sighed. "Perfect.
Yes, kiss him. Kiss each other." The camera came in for a tight
close-up as Jim's face moved close to Lance's face. The two young
studs pursed their lips at almost the same instant. And then Jim
and Lance turned their heads slightly and pressed their mouths
against each other. "Right," the director said. "So fucking
right." The camera could even catch it when their mouths opened
and their tongues started to move from one mouth to the other and
back. Many of the boys from the truck stop were now standing at
the end of the garage, looking at their friends as the camera was
catching every movement, every sexy twitch of their bodies.
Skippy was one of those boys. He thought that Lance and Jim
looked sweet together, but not as sweet as he would look when he
was on film, of course. As Lance and Jim kissed each other, the
blond let his fingers move down over that bulge in Jim's cut-offs
and he ran his fingers over Jim's loins the same way that his
friend was touching him. "Okay, guys," the director said, "when I
say, 'break,' I want the two of you to break apart suddenly, as
if someone had just come in and had almost caught the two of
you." Both of the boys continued to kiss each other, but they
heard the director clearly. "Break!" And Lance and Jim jumped
apart and both of them looked right at the camera with their eyes
wide. "Great," the director said. "Wonderful. You two studs are
fucking naturals." Both Lance and Jim felt proud when they heard
Bronco Calhoun say that.

	Tab Townsend lay naked on the little bed in the little room
and looked up at the blond stud who stood over him. "We can fool
around a little bit, Jeff," the movie star said. "But we can't
come. We have to save the coming for the camera." "I understand,"
Jeff said. The blond, tanned, young stud from the truck stop was
naked too. He sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped his
fingers over Tab's chest. "How did you get into the movie
business?" he asked. "You mean porn?" "Yeah," Jeff said with a
grin. "Porn." "My brother got me into it. He was a porn star
before me. His name was Hank Townsend." "Yeah, I've heard of
him." "He's out of the business now. Owns a bar in San Francisco.
But Hank was the one who brought me to Bronco and suggested that
he use me in a movie. In fact, in the first scene I ever did,
Hank was the one who fucked me." "Really? Your own brother?"
"Sure, we had been fooling around at home for years. It was not
that much different doing it in front of a camera." "I never had
a brother," Jeff said softly. And then Tab reached out for the
young, blond lad and pulled Jeff down against his body and
smiled. "Just consider me your brother then," he said. And then
he kissed Jeff on the mouth. It was certainly more than a
brotherly kiss. Jeff knew that. But, still, it felt very good
when he opened his mouth and let Tab Townsend run his tongue into
his mouth. Mitch Jerome leaned against a car in the garage in a
tight pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt, looking simply
delicious. And the director talked to the two new-comers to film.
"Okay, boys," he said. "You've decided to get him and ge t him
good. Now move into the shot with Mitch." Lance and Jim moved
close to Mitch, grinning at him and reaching out for him.
"Blondie, you grab him."

	Lance knew that the director meant him. He grabbed Mitch's
arm and pulled it behind the star's back. Mitch grimaced even
though Lance knew that he was not really hurting the movie star
at all. That was what acting was all about, the little blond
thought. "Stud, you tear his T-shirt off him." And Jim moved in
and put his fingers under the neck of that T-shirt and started to
rip it off Mitch's body. Soon the T-shirt hung in tatters and
Mitch's chest was almost bare. "Suck his nipple," the director
ordered. And Jim leaned down and put his fingers on a nipple and
held it steady. Then he pressed his mouth against that nipple and
started to suck. "You, Blondie, kiss his neck." Lance leaned in
and started to kiss and tongue at Mitch's neck. Soon the movie
star was trembling and sighing between them, and Lance suspected
that not all of that trembling and sighing was merely acting.

	Jeff lay with his naked body on top of Tab's sexy form and
churned his hips and crushed his loins against Tab's cock and
balls. The movement made both blonds harder and stiffer and more
passionate. As he kissed Tab's lips and ran his tongue into the
star's opened mouth, he felt the movie star's fingers running up
and down his spine. And Jeff could not get the idea out of his
young head. His brother. His own brother. This guy had made it
with his own brother. Well, brothers certainly came in handy
sometime, Jeff thought. And then he churned his loins against
Tab's with even more vigor.

	They had stripped Mitch Jerome naked in front of the camera,
and the boys--the ruthless boys--were naked too. They had him
bent over the car. They had him moaning as they prepared to take
their pleasure in his asshole. Jim was the one who was pulling on
his own meat, making it hard and rigid with his hand. And the
little blond was up on the hood of the car, kneeling right in
front of Mitch Jerome's face. The dark-haired porn star looked up
at the cock that Lance offered to him. "Suck it, Mitch," the
director said, "as if you had no other choice in the whole,
fucking world. Go to it, Mitch." And Mitch raised his head a
little higher and opened his lips. And Lance rammed that cock
into his mouth. When the blond felt the lips close around his
prick, he tilted his head back and sighed. This mouth, he
thought, this fucking mouth was wonderful ! One of the most
wonderful mouths he had ever felt on his cock! And Mitch Jerome
moved his fingers over the hood of the car until they were
between Lance's firm, tanned thighs. Then he turned his hand and
raised those fingers up to the blond lad's balls. He massaged
those balls with his fingers as he worked his face back and forth
on Lance's tool, and the old cameraman moved in as close as he
could to that scene. "Yeah," the director said, "a close-up. Give
me a close-up of that sucking." Lance ran his fingers through
Mitch's dark hair as the movie star sucked on that cock. And Jim
leaned over Mitch as he pulled on his cock and watched the way
that the movie star was sucking that dork. He watched Lance's
expression too. And he knew that the boy was turned on by the
sucking. He could tell that by the way that Lance twisted his
body and flexed his boyish muscles as Mitch sucked him. "Wow,"
Jim sighed. Then Bronco Calhoun turned his attention to the kid
with the dark, curly hair. "You ready to fuck him?" he asked. Jim
looked down at the prick he held in his hand. It was long and
stiff. Yes, he was ready. He nodded his head and the director
growled at him. "Shove the cock into his ass and Ronnie will get
a good shot of that." Jim did not look at the director or the
camera. He knew enough not to do that. But he spoke to Bronco
Calhoun as he pulled on his meat and looked down at Mitch's ass.
"Don't you want him greased up to take my fucking, sir? Maybe I
could lick out his ass. You know, rim him?" "No need," Bronco
said. "Mitch came in here with stuff up his ass-hole. He's always
prepared to take a good fucking." The old cameraman with the jet
black hair turned his attention to the boy with the stiff cock.
He focused on that boy's face and then he slipped the focus down
over Jim's body too. He caught every inch of muscular chest and
stomach and then he aimed his camera at that cock. "Spread his
ass-cheeks," the director ordered. And Jim put his hands on those
buttocks and spread them. "Now work right into him. He loves it."
And Jim followed Bronco' s orders perfectly. He pressed the tip
of his organ against the bung-hole and pressed it into Mitch. The
ass-hole seemed to take the cock greedily, Jim discovered. No
doubt about it, the boy with the dark, curly hair thought. Mitch
Jerome did love being fucked. At least, his ass-hole seemed to
love it and crave it and want all of Jim's prick right away.

	The two blonds lay close together on the bed. Tab's hand was
around Jeff's meaty dick. And Jeff was stroking on the porn
star's organ too. But the boy from the truck stop could not get
the idea out of his head. He murmured about the idea as he played
with that hefty organ and let the movie star play with his cock.
"Your own brother. Shit, you made it with your own brother right
in front of a camera." "The movie is one of the most popular ever
made," Tab said proudly. "Guys are still buying videotapes of
that movie to play in their homes." "Those guys, they know that
you are with your brother there?" "Yeah. It turns them on to know
that." "Oh, yeah," Jeff moaned, feeling his own cock quiver with
excitement. "I imagine that it would turn them on." "If you get
close to coming," Tab said softly, "let me know. You can't come
now. And I can't come either. We have to save that for the
camera. Remember that." "I'll remember," Jeff sighed softly.
"Your own brother. Shit, that is sexy."

	Jim drove his cock deep into Mitch Jerome's ass as the movie
star continued to suck on Lance's cock. And Ronnie, the
cameraman, was near the cock and the ass, taking in a fine image
of that young prick going back and forth in that hungry
bung-hole. "This is going to be a great film," Bronco Calhoun
sighed. "I can tell already. Like Birth of a Nation. Like
Casablanca. Like Hung Boys in the Hay-Loft. This is going to be
my fucking masterpiece." The fat man who handled the lights just
growled. But the boys who were watching the fucking and sucking
from the door of the garage all agreed with the director. With
Lance being sucked by that star and Jim fucking his ass, this
already had all the makings of a masterpiece, the boys thought.
"Keep fucking him," the director said. "Fuck his mouth, Blondie.
Fuck his ass, Curly. Keep giving him what he needs." Lance had
taken over at the front of Mitch Jerome by now. He slipped his
fingers deep into the star's dark hair and held the young man's
head steady and slammed his stiff dork deep into Mitch's mouth
and throat. And Mitch did not seem to mind that at all. He kept
his soft lips tight around the organ and let the blond lad fuck
his mouth well. Lance looked into Jim's eyes as he fucked the
mouth and Jim fucked the ass. He could still see the yearning
there in the dark eyes of that boy. He knew that Jim wanted him
too. Well, they would have to get together later, Lance thought,
perhaps in the big orgy scene that Bronco Calhoun was planning.
The blond had to admit to himself that he yearned for Jim too.
The dark-haired boy looked so sexy with his body covered with
perspiration and his muscles working as he slammed that prick
deep into that ass again and again. Jim looked delicious, Lance
thought, and he suspected that he probably looked just as
delicious at that moment himself. And the little, old cameraman
kept scurrying back and forth between Lance and Jim, getting all
of that delicious sex onto his film. Then Lance moaned to the
director, although he continued to look at Jim. "I am going to
come." The boy with the dark, curly hair chimed in too. "Me too.
I am going to come too." Bronco Calhoun started to bounce around
with happiness. "Pull out of him. Pull out of him. Both of you,"
he chirped. And the two young studs jerked their cocks out of the
movie star.

	Mitch Jerome collapsed onto the hood of the car and sighed.
Lance reached out and grabbed Jim's organ and Jim reached out and
grabbed Lance's meaty dork. "Yeah. That's right," Bronco said.
"And keep looking at each other. You two have a nice look between
you." Jim stared into the blond's blue eyes as he started to
explode with lust all over Mitch Jerome's naked body. And Lance
licked his lips and started to come too. His cream landed on
Mitch's neck and in the movie star's dark hair. And Ronnie got a
really good shot of that come glistening in that dark hair. "A
fucking masterpiece," Bronco Calhoun said. "Like The Searchers.
Like Mister Smith Goes to Washington. Like Cocky Cadets." Then
Bronco sighed and spoke to his cameraman. "Cut, Ronnie. Cut." The
little, old man with the jet black hair turned off his camera and
moved away from the sexy threesome and Lance and Jim sighed and
collapsed onto the hood of the car. Mitch Jerome looked up at the
two studs and smiled. "You guys are great," he said. "This is
going to be a very good scene. One of the best I have ever been
in." And Lance and Jim looked at each other and smiled and felt
very, very proud.

	The boys who had not been chosen for the film were still
working out front at the truck stop. Some of them were
disappointed. Others were just damned surly. But, when Zucker,
the big guy in the big rig, pulled up, all of those boys ran to
greet him. They all yearned to be chosen by him. Zucker was
nearly seven feet tall, and he always paid his boys well. But the
big trucker moved out of his cab and stood there and looked over
the crowd of boys and said, "Where is that redhead?" "You mean
Ricky?" one of the boys said. "Yeah. Ricky. That cute one. That
sexy one. Where is he?" "Well," another boy said, "he's got a job
in the gift shop now. With Mort." "But Ricky ain't there right
now," another boy muttered. "He's in there where they are making
the movie." "Movie?" the big trucker asked. "What movie?" One lad
stepped forward from the crowd of young studs and explained
everything to the big trucker with just a hint of anger in his
voice: "Bronco Calhoun, the porn movie director, showed up here a
few hours ago and paid Steve for the right to shoot one of his
movies at the truck stop. And then he called all the boys in and
he picked out a few of them that he wanted in his movie, and
Ricky was one of them." "Where they shooting this movie?" Zucker
asked. "Right now, I think, they're in the restaurant. They've
closed it off, and--" The giant trucker started to move toward
the restaurant. As he did that, he spoke loudly. "I want to be in
the movie too," he said. And a couple of the boys in the crowd
giggled at the thought. Skippy and Ricky were sitting on the
counter in the restaurant and they were watching the fat man as
he moved around sitting up the lights. Bronco was leaning against
a booth, trying to figure out what he would do with these two
cuties. Then the giant burst into the restaurant and roared like
an animal. "I want to be in the movie!" Skippy and Ricky looked
at him and grinned. "Hi, Zucker," the redhead said. "I didn't
expect you back here for another week or so." "I want to be in
the movie!" the giant trucker yelled again. And Bronco Calhoun
smiled. "Sure, buddy," he said. "You can be in the movie." Bronco
reached for a briefcase and pulled out a release form and
strolled toward the giant. "Just sign this," he said. Zucker
grabbed the piece of paper and pulled a pen out of his pocket and
scrawled his name on the dotted line. He handed the form back to
the director and said, "I want to be in the movie with Ricky."
Bronco Calhoun pointed at the redhead. "Him?" "Yes," Zucker said.
"Him." "Would you mind if Skippy joined the two of you?" Bronco
pointed at the other boy who sat there and grinned so sweetly.
"No," Zucker said, "I wouldn't mind that at all." And the scene
started to come to Bronco Calhoun like a vision. It was almost
mystical the way that scenes came to you this way, the director
thought. That was what was really great about making movies, the
mystical part of the chore. "Okay," the director said, "this is
how I see this scene--"

	The fat man had the lights ready, and Ronnie was ready with
his camera. Zucker was seated in a big booth at the side of the
truck stop restaurant. "Action, " the director said. That was
when Ricky came into view, stripped down to nothing and carrying
a big pot of coffee and a cup. He put the cup down on the table
in front of Zucker and poured some of the coffee into the cup and
set the pot down too. Then he just stood there and smiled as
Zucker reached out and slipped one big hand against the inside of
the redhead's thigh. Ronnie moved in close to capture the way
that that hand seemed to surround that freckled thigh. And the
hand moved slowly up the inside of Ricky's leg as the redhead
stood there and grinned down at Zucker. The fingers of the hand
slipped up to that special, sexy spot between the thigh and the
balls. Ricky pursed his lips and sighed when Zucker touched him
there. The giant started to move his fingers down that thigh
again, and, as he did that, he picked up the coffee with one hand
and swallowed it quickly. Then he poured himself another cup of
black, strong stuff. He killed that cup of coffee quickly, but he
continued to massage the inside of the redhead's thigh as he did
that. "Okay, bring on the other one," the director said. And
sweet-faced Skippy came into view too. Skippy was naked too, and
Zucker smiled up at him. Then the big trucker took his hand off
Ricky and reached out and touched the inside of Skippy's thigh
too. "Get close-ups on the boys' faces," the director said to the
cameraman. And then Bronco smiled, thinking of the way that those
sweet, smiling faces would add texture and meaning to his film.
Like Broken Blossoms. Like Grapes of Wrath. Like The Boys of
Boise. Then the director gave the giant trucker an order, hoping
that the big guy would listen to him. "Get out of the booth, big
fellow," he said. "Stand up and open your pants and pull out that
cock." To Bronco's relief, Zucker did take direction well. The
two naked lads moved back and let Zucker slip out of the booth
and stand up. The guy just seemed to keep standing up and up and
up, and the cameraman moved down a little so that he could
accentuate that guy's height even more. Then Ronnie got a
close-up of Zucker's hand and the zipper on his pants as he
pulled that zipper down, down, down. Zucker reached inside his
pants and pulled out a cock, a big organ--the kind of prick that
seemed to match the rest of his giant body. "Great," Bronco said.
"Now, boys, on your knees in front of him." And the naked Skippy
and the naked Ricky dropped to their knees and looked straight at
that big trucker's tool. "I want the two of you to take turns
sucking the cock," the director said. And Ricky and Skippy looked
at each other and grinned. That was another great shot, the
director thought, and he was happy that the skilled Ronnie had
gotten it. That smile that they shared would add even more
texture to the film. Like The Maltese Falcon. Like The Music Box.
Like Studs from the Streets. The redhead was the one who reached
up and slipped his freckled fingers around that big dork. He
pulled on it gently and then he offered it to his sweet-faced
friend.

	Skippy moved his face close to that dork and kissed the tip
of it. Ricky held the organ steady and Skippy opened his sweet
mouth and slipped his lips over the thing. Zucker moaned in a
deep, bass voice. "Oh, yeah, suck it." Skippy opened his lips and
worked a little further back on the meat. And then the
sweet-faced lad raised his hand up and took the prick away from
the redhead and started to suck on it gently, slowly, wildly.
Ricky just smiled as he knelt there next to Skippy. He knew he
would get his turn at the organ too. Skippy would have to share.
The director would demand that they share the cock. The cock grew
stronger with Skippy's sweet sucking. And the cameraman got close
to the boys and captured the swelling of that organ. Ricky
grinned at Skippy and the prick, and then, sure enough, the
director gave an order. "Share it. Give the cock to the redhead,"
Bronco Calhoun muttered. Ricky could tell that Skippy was a
little sorry to take his mouth off the organ. But, in a movie,
you had to do what the director said to do. Skippy pulled his
sweet face back and took his lips off the organ. And then he held
that cock steady as the redhead moved in and opened his mouth and
started to suck on the thing. "Great movie," the director said.
"Gonna be a masterpiece for sure." Tab and Jeff stood in the
hallway outside the little rooms with their arms around each
other, smiling at each other and looking into each other's blue
eyes. "Maybe you could come back to the West Coast with me," Tab
said, "and be sort of my little brother." Jeff just grinned. He
appreciated the compliment, the invitation. But the blond from
the truck stop knew that he would never feel at home on the West
Coast, even with a sexy, big brother like this movie star. No,
Jeff would stay at the truck stop and work, knowing that he had
had his moment in the sun, his time in a porn movie, knowing that
men all over the nation--all over the world!--would be watching
him and Tab and jerking off and loving every inch of his body on
film. That would be enough for Jeff. He did not need stardom,
just a moment in front of the camera.

	The giant reached down and ran his fingers through Ricky's
red hair as the lad sucked on the dork. And then Zucker growled
at the cameraman and the director and everyone else in the
restaurant. "Shit fire and save matches, I'm gonna come." "Come,"
the director said. "Let the boys move off your cock and come
right in their faces." Ricky took direction well. He quickly
opened his mouth and moved off the tool and then he grasped it
and started to jerk on it. The old coot cameraman moved in and
caught the first explosion of that cock. He caught the come as it
landed on Ricky's freckled face. And then, when Skippy moved his
sweet face close to the prick and opened his mouth and caught
some of that come on his tongue, the cameraman got that scene
too. It was the perfect like of scene, two sweet, young, male
faces being bombarded with come from a big dork. It was the kind
of scene that turned a movie into a mind-boggling masterpiece,
the director thought. When Ricky and Skippy were finished with
the giant trucker, Bronco sat down in a booth and thought of what
he could do with the next scene. "Somebody go get the blonds," he
said. "Tab and that blond stud from--" He stopped speaking when
he looked at the door and saw that Tab and Jeff were already
there, waiting and smiling at him.

	"Now, let's see," the director said. "What can I do with the
two of you?" A few minutes later, Tab and Jeff were both naked
and sitting next to each other on the counter where truckers
often washed their speed pills down with black, strong coffee.
But there were no truckers sitting on the stools now. Only Jeff
and Tab on the counter. And Jeff looked at the blond movie star
and thought that it seemed that he and Tab were the only studs in
the world at that moment. As the camera started to roll, the
director said, "Action." And Jeff leaned in and put his hand on
Tab's chest and kissed the blond movie star with his soft and
opened lips. The big, black car cruised around the truck stop.
Glen and his chauffeur, Danny, were looking for Jeff, and they
could not find him anywhere. Finally, Danny stopped the car and
opened the door and stepped out. He motioned for one of the boys
at the truck stop to come over. As the boy ran toward him, Danny
grinned at the lad. Such fine, male flesh, the driver thought,
and he wondered why he had never taken his time with one of the
boys himself--while Glen was fooling around with Jeff in the car.
The boy stood right in front of Danny and grinned and rubbed his
crotch. But the grin stopped when Danny said, "Where is Jeff? The
blond?" "He's inside, making a movie," the boy said testily.
"With the rest of chosen bastards. There is going to be no living
with any of them after this movie is finished." "Movie? What
movie?" The voice came from inside the car. Glen had lowered his
window and was now looking outside at the boy. "Porn movie," the
boy snarled. "Bronco Calhoun's here and he's chosen a few of the
boys. Well, shit, go in and see for yourself if you want." The
boy turned and walked away and Glen sat in the back seat of the
car and stared up at Danny. The rich guy had never exposed
himself in this way at the truck stop before. Glen had always
been careful about his reputation. But now, as he sat there, he
realized that he had never really worried about his reputation.
It had been his father's reputation. And Glen had been worried
about what would happen if his wealthy father ever discovered
that his only son not only did not give a shit about the business
but also was a cocksucking faggot to boot. Well, fuck the rich,
old man. Glen took a deep breath and opened the door and slipped
out of the big, black car. He slammed the door behind him and
motioned for Danny to follow him. And, feeling really free for
the first time in his life, Glen moved toward the truck stop,
with the blond driver walking just about two feet behind him all
the way. There were boys posted at the door of the truck stop.
They were supposed to tell people that the truck stop was closed
for renovations. But, when they saw Glen enter the place with
Danny behind him, they did not even try to stop the rich guy.
They knew who he was. They knew that you never tried to stop the
rich from going anywhere. Glen walked into the restaurant and saw
Jeff and Tab. At that moment, the movie star was lying on the
counter and Jeff was on his hands and knees between Tab's
outstretched legs. Jeff was going down on the blond star, sucking
that cock with pleasure and style. "Jeff!" Glen yelled. And the
blond lad took his mouth off the organ and looked over to the
side. "Cut!" the director yelled. And then Bronco Calhoun turned
to Glen and snarled, "Just who the fuck are you?" Glen just
looked at the director. He didn't know what to say. He knew that
being one of the richest, young men in this small town would not
make a bit of difference to a movie-maker. Not unless-- Glen
smiled. "I'm the guy who wants to invest a few thousand in your
movie," he said. Bronco Calhoun grinned then. "My friend," he
muttered. "My good friend." And then Bronco approach ed Glen,
smiling and happy. Glen thought that the director was going to
grab him and kiss him or something. But, instead, Bronco just
stuck out his hand and said, "What must I do to get your cold,
hard cash?" Glen smiled. The idea came to him immediately, an
idea that showed that he had fought off his shame entirely. "I
want to be in your movie too," he said. Bronco nodded his head.
Glen was not quite the stud that he preferred in his films, but,
for a few thousand in investments, he would do nicely in front of
the camera. Then the director looked at the blond driver and
said, "What about him? Does he want to be in the movies too?"
Glen glanced back at Danny, and the driver nodded his head.
"Sure," the blond said. "Why not?"

	A few minutes later, Jeff was back sucking on Tab's meaty
dork, and the cameraman was catching every movement of that mouth
on that member. And then Glen, naked and proud, walked into the
scene with the two blonds. He had already signed a check for
twenty thousand dollars and had handed it to Bronco Calhoun. Now
he stood next to the counter and watched Jeff suck that cock and
played with his own meat and grinned. With that prick growing in
his mouth, Jeff looked marvelous, Glen thought. And he really
knew how to work on a cock too. He would take off the meat into
his mouth and throat and then slowly pull his handsome face up
until just the tip of the organ was in his lips. Then he would
massage the base of the cock with his fingers and let those
fingers slip through the golden hair that grew at the base of
Tab's organ. Jeff would wrap those fingers around the prick then
and take his mouth off the meat and lick the tip of the organ
with his tongue. And then he would go back to sucking and Tab
would groan with almost cosmic delight. Glen picked up the tube
of lubricant that had been placed on one of the stools and opened
the tube and spread some of the jell out onto his fingers. The
rich guy had already gotten his directions from Bronco. He knew
just what to do. With his fingers greased , he leaned over Jeff
and slipped those fingers down the crack of the blond's ass. He
was getting Jeff ready for the fucking, and he was thrilled,
because he had never seen the blond stud fucked before. When he
had been with Jeff, the young blond had always played the
dominant role. Glen knew it was going to be beautiful to see him
submit to that huge cock that he was sucking right now and take
that cock up his bung-hole and shiver with delight as that movie
star fucked him. Slowly, Glen worked his fingers Jeff's bung-hole
and he heard the lad moan with pleasure as he continued to suck
that cock. The cameraman moved close to the fingers and the ass
and caught the sight of those fingers going deep into Jeff,
preparing him for the fucking. Glen smiled as he rammed his
finger deeply into that tight, sweet hole. When Glen had finished
his work on the ass-hole, Jeff had finished his work on the cock
too. Tab held the stiff prick steady in his hand as Jeff raised
up and straddled the movie star's body and slowly lowered himself
down onto that dork. The tip of the prick went into Jeff's
behind. Glen saw clearly the way that that ass seemed to eat that
cock right up. The rich guy grinned and stroked on his own meat
as Jeff went down, down, down onto that organ. Jeff put his hands
flat on the movie star's chest as that cock went into him. As he
tossed his blond hair as he sighed to Tab. "Fuck me. Fuck my hot
ass. Oh, fuck me, big brother." When Danny was naked, Glen saw
that his driver was really a very handsome and sexy stud, almost
as handsome and sexy as Jeff was. The naked, rich guy moved close
to Danny as the camera started to capture every delicious second
on film. He put his hand on Danny's face and then he stood on
tip-toes and kissed his driver's male lips. Glen moved out of the
scene then, just as the director had told him to do. And Tony,
the boy with the green, soft, big eyes, slipped into the scene.
He was naked too. Tony dropped to his knees in front of Danny and
wrapped his fingers around that sturdy prick that the blond
offered to him. He stroked on that cock and stared at it with his
green eyes sparkling with mischief. And then he leaned in close
and kissed the tip of the organ. Danny groaned when Tony did that
and moved his hands his own chest with passionate touches. Then
Tony opened his mouth and took that cock in and started to suck
on it. Just out of camera range, Jeff stood between Tad and
Glen--the rich guy and the movie star, the two males who cared so
much for him. Jeff turned to the movie star and said the words
softly. "You fucked me very well. I appreciate a good fucking
like that." Tab grinned and wrapped his arm around Jeff and
slipped his hand down to the blond's bare rump. "Your ass is
tight and hot. Really nice." And then Jeff turned his head and
grinned at Glen, and the rich guy felt proud to be in such sexy
company. His father was going to shit a brick if he ever found
out about that movie, but Glen did not care any longer. He had
spent too many years trying to protect his father from what he
really was. Now his father would just have to learn with a son
who liked to suck cock, even liked to be in movies where cocks
were sucked. If the rich, old guy couldn't handle that truth,
then fuck him. Glen had been living in the shadows of sexuality
too long, he thought. As he looked at the Jeff's tanned and sexy
body, he wanted to move out into the sunlight of sex and feel
really free. He looked at Danny and knew that his driver was in
the sunlight now. Danny was grasping Tony's head and holding it
steady and fucking the green-eyed boy's mouth. And he was moaning
and groaning and twisting a little as he fucked that mouth. Danny
was on fire with lust. Glen could tell that for sure. The rich
guy was glad to see that his driver was happy, and he thought
that the men who watched this film were going to be happy too,
when they saw Danny and all that other fine male flesh fucking
and sucking and getting all hot. Glen was almost positive that
the film would make money. And that idea pleased the rich guy,
for he was an investor now.

	When the tanned, fat guy in the big car pulled up in front
of the truck stop, some of the boys, the ones who had worked
there for a long time, recognized him. "Go get Mort," one boy
said to another. "There may be trouble brewing if this guy hears
about the movie." Throughout his career as manager of the truck
stop, Steve's Uncle C.J. had always tried to keep a low profile,
to keep his truck stop out of the news and out of trouble. Steve
was in watching the film being made in the garage, so Mort was
the one who hobbled out to meet his former boss. The fat man
stood next to his car and grinned at Mort. "How are you doing?"
he asked. "How's life in the gift shop?" "Just fine," Mort said
nervously, limping closely to C.J. The dark-skinned boy got out
of C.J.'s car too. When Mort saw the lad, he smiled. C.J. still
had good taste in boys, he thought. "Where is Steve?" C.J. asked.
"I want to introduce him to Mike here. I think Mike would make an
excellent addition to the truck stop staff." "Yes, I am sure he
will," Mort said. "Well, where is he?" Mort did not know what to
say. So he just stood there, crippled and mute. "What the hell is
going on around here?" C.J. growled. Then the crippled man from
the gift shop decided that honesty was the best policy. "Well,"
he said, "we're making a movie." "A movie? What kind of movie?"
"A porn movie. A guy named Bronco Calhoun is here--" "I've heard
of him," Mike said. "He makes great films." "Is Steve crazy? You
can't make a porn movie here," C.J. growled. "If you make a porn
movie, then--" The fat man's words died away in a bluster. "Where
are they, Mort?" he said in a sinister tone. "In the garage," the
crippled man said.

	"They are doing the orgy scene now.

	Jeff was fucking Glen in the ass, lying on his side behind
the rich guy and plugging that ass-hole with his big, thick, stud
cock. And, as he fucked that ass, he worked his fingers over
those nipples again and made Glen moan and sigh. And Jeff was
coming close to an orgasm. He slammed his dork deep into Glen
time after time. And he started to gasp and growl and the
cameraman moved in close. "You know the rules," Ronnie said, as
he filmed the blond stud and the rich dude. "Pull it out." Jeff
jerked his cock out of Glen's butt-hole and moved away from the
naked, rich guy. Glen rolled onto his back and the young,
muscled, blond stud straddled his chest and pulled on his prick.
Soon Jeff was erupting too, shooting his wad all over Glen's
lustful face. And Glen was pulling on his own cock too. A few
seconds after Jeff started to erupt, Glen started to come too.
Ronnie, skilled cameraman that he was, caught both of those
orgasms on film. Then he turned the camera off and moved away
from the naked pair. At that very moment, the door to the garage
flew open and the tanned, fat man barged in. "What the fuck is
going on here?" C.J. snarled. Steve had been watching the sexy
action from the side of the garage. Now he turned and looked at
his uncle and he gulped. "Hi, Uncle C.J.," he said. "What brings
you up here from Florida?" "What the fuck is going on here?" the
fat man screamed. "We're making a movie," Bronco Calhoun said,
"one of the finest pieces of male erotica art that has ever been
shot." Uncle C.J. stared at Bronco and then looked around the
garage, at all those handsome, naked males. He didn't know what
to say at that moment. Mike stepped up beside the fat man and
grinned at the director. "I have seen your films, Mister
Calhoun," he said. "I think they are great." "Thank you," Bronco
said, looking over the sexy, dark-skinned lad. "You know, stud,
you look rather exotic." "Thank you, Mister Calhoun." "How would
you like to be in my movie? In a solo shot?" "What's a solo
shot?" "Just you on the screen, jacking off," the director
explained. "Sure," Mike said. "I would be happy to be in a solo
shot in a Bronco Calhoun film." C.J. turned and stared at the boy
he had picked up on the highway. "I don't understand," the fat,
tanned man muttered. "You want to be a porn movie? I thought you
had to drug boys to get them to do things like that." "There's
nothing wrong with a porn movie," Mike said. "Maybe, at one time,
there was. But not any more. Times have changed, C.J." The fat
man looked at his nervous nephew and a smile came over his lips.
"Yeah," C.J. said, "I guess that's right. Times have changed.

	Mike sat naked on the hood of an old car out behind the
garage and smiled. While the bored, fat, lighting technician was
moving around and trying to decide if any extra lights were
needed in the dusk of the evening, Mike spoke to Bronco Calhoun.
"This is going to be fun," he said. "A lot more fun than I've
just been through." "What was that?" the director asked. "Did
C.J. hurt you?" "Not C.J. He is very kind. He sort of saved me.
But Brother Wiley--he was a different story." "Brother Wiley?"
the director said, his eyes getting big. "Brother Wiley from
television?" "I don't know about television, but he lives up on a
mountain about a hundred miles from here." "Skinny guy?
Half-crazy? A preacher? That Brother Wiley?" "That sounds like my
Brother Wiley, okay," the boy said. "He had me chained to the
floor in his house and he's got this naked kid named Dallas
running around there too. He picks up boys on the highway, I
guess, and--" "Shit! Brother Wiley!" Of course, the dark-skinned
boy was too young to remember Brother Wiley in his television
hey-day, the director thought. But Bronco Calhoun remembered him,
remembered the way that Brother Wiley had captivated audiences
until that fateful night when that image had grown out across the
airways and had ruined Brother Wiley's career. Bronco Calhoun had
an idea. "Would you be able to find this place again? Brother
Wiley's place?" he asked Mike. "Sure. But I wouldn't want to go
back there. He would just chain me up and hurt me again." "No, I
will be with you. And Tab and Mitch and my technicians too, and
maybe a couple of boys from the truck stop here. We'd protect
you." "Why would you want to see Brother Wiley?" Bronco just
smiled. He did not tell the lad about the plan that was already
brewing in his head, the idea that Brother Wiley might make an
interesting actor for Bronco Calhoun films. The lighting man
spoke to Bronco in a growl. "Don't need no more light," he said.
"The moon is bright enough." "Okay," the director said. And then
Bronco motioned for Ronnie to get ready. And Mike got ready too.
As the cameraman moved in close to him and the director said,
"action," the lad smiled and moved his hand down over his meaty
dork. The cock was already about half-hard from the excitement
that the boy felt just posing for the camera. He rubbed his palm
down over his cock and pressed that meat against his balls and
smiled at the camera. Then he slowly curled his fingers around
his cock and started to pull on it, to move the skin back and
forth. And the cock got stiffer and longer in his hand. "Good,"
Bronco said. "Really good. Keep working on yourself, Mike." The
dark-skinned boy jerked on his thick dork and put his other hand
under the cock and played with his own balls. He pursed his lips
and tossed his head slightly as the excitement grew in his young
body. C.J. stood off to the side and watched his young friend
masturbate for the camera and grinned. Then the fat, tanned man
turned to his nephew and said, "I guess things have changed. This
will be good for the truck stop. This will get us plenty of
publicity in the right crowds, right?" Steve was glad that his
uncle was more agreeable to publicity now. In a few minutes,
Steve would have to introduce C.J. to Kevin, the writer for the
truck stop magazine. But, right now, Steve and C.J. just watched
as Mike leaned back on the hood of the automobile in the dusk of
the evening and lifted his buns up slightly. As he continued to
tug on his meaty organ, Mike touched his sweet, tight, sexy
bung-hole with his finger. And he sighed with passion--the kind
of passion that a lot of men would feel when they saw this scene
on the big screen in a porn movie house.

	When the movie about the truck stop had come out a few
months after Bronco Calhoun had visited the place, all of the
boys had gathered in Steve's office to see the videotape of the
film that Bronco sent with his compliments. It was a masterpiece
of sorts, and it became one of the most famous all-male, erotic
films of the decade. But Jeff, the blond stud, had never been
able to watch i t all the way through. The film brought a certain
sense of sadness to him. When he saw the great scene between him
and Tab, he remembered that the movie star had asked him to come
to the West Coast and live with him and be something like his
little brother, and he remembered that he had turned Tab down.
And, in other parts of the film, Jeff saw his cocoa-colored
friend, Joey, and he remembered that Bronco Calhoun had offered
to take Joey with him to the West Coast too. He had said that
Joey had real star potential. And Joey did not turn Bronco down
at all. Jeff missed Joey, even after several months. Glen, who
was not a major investor in Bronco Enterprises, often flew out to
meet his business partner, the film maker, and he had offered to
take Jeff along with him. The blond had almost gone the last
time, thinking that he would be able to see Joey and talk to him
and spend some time in bed with the shy, sweet, dark-skinned boy.
But, finally, Jeff had decided to stay at the truck stop, knowing
that you could never recapture the past. And he wanted to
remember Joey as a shy, sweet guy, not as some wild, porn star
who lived in Bronco Calhoun's mansion and appeared in all of his
movies. About six months after the film about the truck stop had
been released, Steve got another gift videotape from Bronco. He
called all the boys who were interested into his office and
slipped that tape into his machine. It was a new Bronco Calhoun
film--starring Brother Wiley!

	In the first scene of the film, the skinny preacher was
dancing around and looking down on two boys who were making it on
the floor of a dirty, little house. And one of those boys was
Joey! The other boy was a slender youth with dark, curly hair. He
had been billed in the credits simply as Dallas. Dallas and Joey
were sucking on each other's cocks. There were many close-ups of
Joey's sweet face with that prick going in and out of his mouth.
And Brother Wiley just kept looking down on them and dancing.
Jeff watched for a few minutes and then got up and left the room.
Joey had certainly changed, he thought. He did not seem shy any
more at all. Jeff walked out to the front of the truck stop just
as a car pulled up. A handsome, young man in a T-shirt and shorts
got out of the car and smiled at the blond stud, who came dashing
toward him. "Hi," he said. " My name is Tom." "My name is Jeff,"
the blond said. "What can I do for you?" "Well, I don't know--"
the young man said. Jeff stood there in just his cut-offs and
grinned and rubbed his crotch. Tom grinned too then. "This is the
place, isn't it?" he said. "This is the place that it is in
Bronco Calhoun's film." "That's right." "I heard that, but I
wasn't sure. And you--you were in the movie too, right?" "Right."
"Yeah, I thought you looked familiar. You were great in that
film. I have it on videotape. I've watched it about a hundred
times." Jeff blushed a little with the compliments that the young
man was showering on him. And then Tom lowered his voice and
added, "I would really like to--you know--you and me together?"
"Sure," Jeff said, "anything for a customer." "I'm glad to hear
that," the young man said with a grin.

	"Where you from?" Jeff asked as he turned with Tom and
walked back toward the truck stop. "St. Louis," the young man
said. "Where you headed?" "I'm not sure, but I think I was really
headed here to meet a guy like you." "That's nice," Jeff said
with a smile.

	A few minutes later the blond and the young man were in the
little room that Tom had rented for that specific, private
purpose, and Tom was taking off his clothes. Tom was a slender
guy with dark hair and a hairy chest and legs. When he was naked,
he stood there and moved his hand over his cock. It was nice and
large and meaty, just the kind of cock that Jeff needed on an
afternoon like this one. Jeff thought of all those other boys who
were up there watching that new Bronco Calhoun film--the one with
the crazy preacher and Joey and god knew who else in it. Let them
watch the sex, the blond thought. He would have a little sex
instead. That was always more fun than just watching. The blond
stud opened his cut-offs and pushed them down his tanned legs and
stepped out of them. Then, when he was naked, he approached Tom
and reached out and ran his fingers through the young man's chest
hair. "You're very sexy," he said. "I bet you have a lot of guys
lusting after you in St. Louis." "I've got a few, " Tom said
truthfully, "but no one who has starred in a Bronco Calhoun
film." Jeff smiled and tilted his head to one side. And then Tom
touched his face wi th his fingers and held that head steady as
he moved his lips toward Jeff's mouth. The blond from the truck
stop and the stud from St. Louis kissed each other softly. When
the kiss was over, Jeff said, "What do you want me to do for
you?" Tom did not say anything for a moment. It was as if he
could hardly believe that he was here, naked with this blond,
stud youth, here with this porn star that he had watched so many
times on the video machine. It was as if he were afraid to speak
because he thought the sound of his own voice might break the
mood and wake him up from a fine and sexy dream. But then Tom did
speak. "I want you to suck my cock." "Sure," Jeff said with a
grin. Then the hairy, young man sat down on the edge of the bed
and lay back there and spread his legs wide. And the blond knelt
down beside the bed an reached out and touched that prick. He
curled his fingers around that cock and then slowly drew his face
close to that organ. Jeff licked his lips. When Tom saw that, he
sighed. It was just like being a porn movie yourself, the young
man from St. Louis thought. And Tom lay back and closed his eyes
and wallowed in the delight of the feelings that Jeff gave to
him. Jeff stuck out his tongue and over it over the young man's
piss slit. He tasted some of that nice pre-come that come from
the dork. And then he worked his lips over the crown of the meaty
thing and pressed his lips tightly around the thing. He slipped
his lively, youthful fingers over the meat and felt it quiver
under his touch. And then he worked his mouth down further on
Tom's organ as he started to play with those fine, sexy, hairy
balls.

	Steve was watching the scene where Mitch Jerome took it up
the ass from a young, Hispanic stud. Nice bit of drama, Steve
thought, but so far he had not seen anything to compare to the
sheer heat of the movie that Bronco Calhoun had filmed at the
truck stop. Of course, it would take quite a bit before Bronco
came up with a movie that would ever match that one. Ricky, the
redhead from the gift shot, was sitting at Steve's feet. As Steve
watched this new film, he remembered the fantastic scenes in the
earlier movie, the scenes that Ricky had been in. He rubbed
Ricky's red hair and the freckled-face youth looked up at the
boss. "Want a blow-job?" he asked with an almost innocent tone.
"Sure," Steve said. Then Ricky turned away from the television
screen and opened Steve's pants and pulled the prick out. He
massaged that cock with his fingers and then he moved his
freckled face close to the organ. He opened his sweet mouth wide
and took Steve's cock into his lips and then he started to suck
on the organ. Steve moaned as the scene changed to a swimming
pole. Joey was splashing around there in the water naked, and a
big actor with a tattoo came out and looked at him. Joey was in
deep trouble now, Steve thought. You could tell just by the way
that that big actor stared at the cocoa-colored stud that he was
not going to let Joey out of there with his ass-hole intact.
Steve smiled and watched Joey swim slowly to the edge of the
pool, to take whatever punishment was coming to him. And he ran
his fingers through Ricky's red hair as the young stud worked up
and down on his meaty organ. "Suck it, Ricky. Yeah, suck that
thing," Steve said. And Ricky, being a good employee, did just as
he was told to do.

	Jeff leaned over the bed and squeezed on Tom's hairy balls
as he felt the young man's hand on the back of his neck, pushing
him down further on that stiff organ. Jeff went down willingly,
with lust in his stud heart. The tip of Tom's organ battered the
back of Jeff's throat. And a warmth went right through the blond,
the kind of warmth that you could not get in a movie, the kind of
warmth that only came in the Middle West, where truck stop boys
ran free and easy along the highway. That was the kind of warmth
that Jeff wanted to keep fee ling for the rest of his blond, stud
life.

	On the television screen, Brother Wiley was fucking the hell
out of Mitch Jerome's ass. But Steve was not really interested in
the movie much any longer. He closed his eyes and licked his lips
and stretched his body a bit in the chair as the redhead
continued to suck his dork. The truck stop boss was getting close
to orgasm, a nice, gushing orgasm. He reached down and touched
Ricky's soft, red hair and sighed to the lad. "I am going to
come," he said. All the other boys in the room were watching the
television screen. There was nothing new for them in seeing Ricky
sucking off Steve. But the pleasure of the blow-job from that
little, freckled, red-haired lad always seemed new to Steve.
Every time Ricky sucked him, it was as if he had never had his
cock sucked before. He was like a virgin again, touched for the
very first time. And then Steve growled and started to explode in
Ricky's mouth and the boy from the gift shop started to swallow
every drop of that male juice. God, Steve thought, this was a
great way to live--running a truck stop and working with boys who
knew their ways around a cock. And Steve knew that the customers
had come from far and wide since that movie about the truck stop
had appeared and that article that Kevin had written about the
place had been the cover story on the magazine. This was a great
way to live, Steve thought, and he suspected that it would get
even better. And he sighed and relaxed in the chair as the
redhead licked his spent cock clean.
