He couldn't help but feel nervous, as he parked and looked over at the gas station. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but still, he felt the dread of walking in and suddenly being confronted by some nasty remarks or comments. Damn straights he thought, why did they make life so complicated?
It wasn't like he had gotten Chip drunk or anything, wasn't even like he had made the first move. It had all been Chip's idea, and he had obliged. Sure, the guy was hot, had a nice dick too, and would have been fun to have as one of those casual type sex friends. Hell, who knows, it might have led to a bit more than him sucking Chip off, but not now.
They always made things so difficult. So the guy found out he liked a guy sucking his wick, like that would suddenly make him Queer? Course the real problem was, some of them actually were Gay, not that they'd ever admit it. He never understood that. After all just because you liked dick didn't make you suddenly into cooking, or into becoming a hair dresser.
He knew a few who were into Rugby, now that wasn't a sissy sport, and none of his gay buddies were into being Hair Dresser's either. Some could cook, but it was because they either learnt how, or starved. So what was it that got guys like Chip becoming dickheads after a good blowjob?
Christ, he should be used to it. After all he did say guys checked him out in the locker room, and it wasn't like he had sucked him off in front of everyone, nor was he about to tell anyone. Well, okay he might sort of let it slip with a few of his friends, but it wasn't like they ever came to the gas bar, or would dare say anything to Chip, if they ever met him.
So why the fucking hassle? It made no sense, as he climbed out of the car, to head towards what he felt would be a difficult graveyard shift. He also wondered if Chip would even show up, or had he already called in to quit, or come up with some other lame excuse, so as to not work the shift with him? In some ways that would be the best solution, if he had simply quit, though somehow he figured he'd have heard by now.
He felt a sort of cold chill inside, as he approached the small station hut. It wasn't busy, given how expensive gas was, but it seemed more quiet than normal. Could simple be the day of the week, but his imagination was running wild. In a way, he hoped Chip would show up, or would make a scene, least it would be over with in short order. This waiting for the hassle was too much.
Stepping inside he saw the day shift manager, who nodded as usual and glanced up at the clock. He always did that, then would come his usual grunt. The guy just wasn't one for words, and Dawson wondered what he was like in bed. Did he moan, groan, or just lay on top panting as he rammed his dick into his latest?
Part of working here, was the fun at wondering how the other's were in bed, but as the thought flashed across his mind, he couldn't help but recall how Chip had been. Man the guy had been loud, which usually was a sign of enjoyment, so why the fuss? He really wanted to know, to maybe even see if he could recognize any sign, so he wouldn't screw up again.
Then there were all those phone calls. Fuck, he was becoming a nervous wreck and his shift hadn't even started. He signed in, and leaned back waiting for the time to take over. As the clock moved towards the hour, he saw the day manager look at him, then outside. There was no sign of Chip yet, and he could hear the wheels in the guy's head turning.
'Your helper is late.'
'Yeah, no problem, you can take off.'
'Good, things to do, or I'd stick around.'
'Yeah, it's cool.'
As he watched him leave, he knew that even if he had asked, the guy would have had an excuse of why he couldn't stay beyond his shift. Maybe he had a second job or something, but Dawson had to admit, the guy was the least talkative of the entire staff. Still, he did his job, and there never was a problem on his shift, which was a record he matched, least so far.
Glancing at the clock, he swore, wondering if he should call in one of the stand by staff, but figured he'd tough it out alone for an hour or two. Still, calling someone in would mean waking them up, which was never fun. Then too, they'd be cranky once they did show up, so fuck it he thought, as his first customer rolled up to the pumps.
For the next few hours he was kept hopping. Between running to get the pumps working, ringing up the sales, swiping the cards, he didn't get a second's break. He also didn't have the time to worry, and as the last customer for the moment handed him the $20 for the gas, he managed to take a deep breath.
It was then that he noticed the shaggy mop of hair standing in the door to the station. It was Chip, and he could see how he was watching him, his eyes focused right on Dawson. For a moment he felt his body tighten up, felt his hands ball up into a fist, as he stared back. If it was a fight the guy wanted, well fuck it, he'd give a good account of himself.
He watched the way his face seemed to tighten, how his whole body seemed tense, on edge. It really was as if the guy wanted to have a fight, yet there was that look in his eyes, that were sort of, well it looked like he was afraid. Hard to imagine, as the guy was well built, had played football, so he said, so he shouldn't be afraid of a few blows. Still, he seemed more like a frightened deer, than an outraged straight boy.
Maybe it hadn't been him making those phone calls? Could be coincidence, but then again, he rather doubted it. To get a heavy breather, right after doing a straight boy? Not bloody likely, then too, he did show up late, so obviously it had to be him.
Dawson pushed himself back upright, and stared at Chip. His lips were drawn tight, his face looking a bit white, as if the blood was all draining from it, but he didn't say a word. He just stood there, looking defiant and scared at the same time. Neat trick, but Dawson didn't have time for the bullshit, he was tired from working non stop.
Moving forward, he could see how tightly Chip was holding himself. Could he be thinking that Dawson was going to attack him or something? Or maybe he figured Dawson had outed him or something?
'You got something to say, or just planning on standing there all night?'
'No, I haven't got anything to say.'
'Yeah I gathered that from your phone calls earlier, so you going to work your shift or what?'
Dawson noticed how his shot had gone home. Straight and true, as Chip seemed to tremble a bit. His legs twitched, and the hands hanging at his side moved too, but he just looked at Dawson, like he didn't know which way to run, or even if he should run.
As he got closer, he could see the thin lines on Chip's forehead stretched taut, the way his jaw was defined by the tautness of his face. It was obvious he was on edge, and as he looked down, he couldn't help but notice the balled up fists. He also couldn't help but see that his basket was bulging a bit. Strange, he may be about to wind up in a fist fight with him, but here he was, checking his basket.
Chip hadn't said anything yet, as he got closer. Looking back up at his face, he knew that Chip had caught him checking him out. The jaw was even more clenched, but the hands stayed down, maybe waiting for Dawson to get closer, or maybe just to stay there.
'I gotta hit the john, you going to watch the front for me?'
'I'll watch it'
'Gee, how generous of you, I won't be long, then maybe you'll tell me if you are planning to work your shift or not.'
He kept himself moving, ignoring the flash of anger from his sarcastic retort, but fuck it. He had enough of the childish games, and if Chip was pissed about being blown earlier, it was his own damn fault. He was the one who made the moves, Dawson would have been just fine going home, jerking off, and forgetting about Chip. Not like he needed Chip either, he had guys he could call, who would satisfy him, so fuck it.
Slamming the door, he felt his own anger rising. He scolded himself, for giving in this morning, but the whole thing wasn't his fault. Okay, so he jerked off thinking about the guy, big fucking deal. Like he didn't expect Chip to find out, and he didn't seem to mind when he did. Hell, he invited him for coffee, not the other way around.
As he pulled his dick out, to take his piss, he felt it thicken a bit. He had to admit, Chip did have a nice dick, and his cum had been good, still, it wasn't worth all this shit. Struggling a bit, he finally managed to get himself calmed down, as the piss began to stream out. He had held it way too long, as he felt the relief in his bladder.
As the last dribbled out, he began to push it back into his shorts, reaching for the zipper, when he felt the cold wind across his back. Turning around quickly, he noticed the door had swung open, that the force of him slamming it had made it not latch fully. There in the door frame was Chip, standing and just staring at him.
Dawson zipped up quickly, and turned around to glare back at Chip. Fuck, just what he needed. He was suddenly feeling very angry, not at himself, but at Chip.
'See all you wanted?'
He knew the second he said it, that it was perhaps not the right thing to say, but god damn it, he was tired of beating around the bush. The guy had wanted him to suck him off, now he was acting like he had been raped or something. The way he had stood there, out front, now here. What was his fucking problem?
Chip stepped aside, to let Dawson out, and followed him back into the station. He stood by the door, not coming all the way in. There was no sign of anyone else nearby, and it looked like he was guarding the door.
'So? You gonna say anything, or just stand there?'
'What do you want me to say?'
'Not a fucking thing, Christ, what is your problem? You are acting like some, shit, I don't know what.'
'You always such an ass to guys you suck off, or just the new ones?'
He couldn't believe his ears, as he stared for a second at Chip, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
'WHAT? Me being a dick? Like how many phone calls did I make to you, and not say shit? HOW MANY?'
'Okay, okay, I am sorry, I just it scares me, I never, I mean I am sorry, okay? I uh, I should have said something, I just, oh shit, never mind. I'll take off, so you won't have to be so pissed.'
'Oh sure, run away like some coward, you got a problem with me, spit it out, otherwise, well otherwise, get your head out of your ass and grow up.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Just what it means, Christ, so I sucked you off, wasn't like you were forced.'
'I know that, don't you think I know that?'
'Then, what? You're acting like your shit is in a knot, so what is it then?'
He took a deep breathe, feeling totally exhausted already. In some ways it was like talking to a kid, in other ways he was just so mad, he didn't care what he said or how. He was perspiring as he glared at Chip, at his pale face.
'You wouldn't understand, look, I am sorry, I never had something like that happen before, I mean, I uh, I never let, fuck, you know what I mean, you have to, you said you have done others'
'Yeah, but, shit you liked it, didn't you? Is that what has you all in knots, you liked it, and you just don't want to admit it, do you?'
'Maybe, I don't know'
'MAYBE? Come off it Chip, either you did or you didn't.'
'Does it matter?'
'Not to me, obviously to you it seems to.'
'I guess, I don't know, I'
Suddenly Chip just looked so defeated, so crestfallen that for a brief instant Dawson wanted to reach out and pull him close, to hug him and pat him on the head, telling him everything was alright. Yet at the same time, he knew he wouldn't take it for comfort, but for Dawson making a play for him. Hell, why did sex have to be so complicated?
He had enjoyed sucking him off, plus it obviously seemed like Chip had liked it as well. Didn't seem like it should be such a big deal. Obviously it was, and the other straight guys, well, they didn't seem to take it like Chip was.
'Look, if you're worried I am gonna tell the world, don't, okay? It is just between us, doesn't have to change anything, okay?'
The way Chip looked up at him, how his eyes seemed like they were on the verge of filling with tears surprised Dawson. He had no idea what was going on with the guy. First he had thought it was anger, then fear, now who knows. It was making him feel weird, inside.
He shrugged and stood up straight. There was no doubting that he had made up his mind about something, though Dawson had no idea what. For a brief moment, he thought he was going to just turn around and leave, but instead he sort of just shuffled inside. Chip made his way to the back of the station, grabbed his hat and reached inside his pocket, to get his name tag.
Putting it on, he turned around, giving Dawson a long look, that could be taken many ways. It was eerie, as he didn't say a word, just looked, then his body sort of just seemed to relax. The tightened body relaxed, including the lines on his face, and around his jaw. The eyes seemed a bit glassy, but the threat of tears had evaporated.
Before he could say a word, the sound of a car driving into the lot echoed. Both of them turned to stare out, and before he could move, Chip was heading out to pump the gas. Dawson leaned back, feeling totally drained. He had no idea what else would happen, but at least the tension was over with.
Watching Chip lean over the front of the car, to wipe the windshield, he couldn't help but admire his body. The arm stretched out, the way his back muscles seemed to flex, and the one leg lifted up in the air, as he stretched as far as he could, only added to Dawson's sudden arousal. Christ, just what he needed. Like that was how he had gotten into this mess to begin with, but the idea of sending him for burgers later, made Dawson smile a bit.
Dawson shook his head and turned back inside, wondering if maybe he had some sort of death wish. Not that Chip would attack him, least of that he was now certain, but he sure seemed to be wanting to play with fire. To jerk off and still be thinking of Chip? After the whole day of worrying, was a bit insane, but then he turned and stole another glance of Chip.
Somehow he just knew he couldn't let it go, or stop himself. He reached down and pushed his stiff dick to one side, hoping that if he stayed behind the cash counter, Chipper wouldn't notice.
Strange really, to want to keep on thinking of him. Like, sucking his dick was good, but it wasn't like Chip had the biggest dick he had ever tasted, nor did he have the hottest ass, or flattest stomach. Still, there was something about him that made Dawson not want to give up daydreaming about him.
In a way, Chip reminded him of another straight jock he had run into. Everyone called him Ace, but his real name had been Dean. Now there was a definite stud, and while he had the girls dripping off his arms, he also liked to have the odd fling with a guy. He wasn't gay either, or so he said, but damn he could sure make you wonder.
Unlike Chip, he didn't have long hair, nor did he have the Jock type of look, though he certainly had a good body. More of a swimmer type really, least he thought so. Rather a long body, long arms and legs, and man, what a dick on him. Okay, it wasn't a monster, but certainly more than average, and uncut too. That always was a plus in his mind.
Dean had been just 18 when Dawson had met him, and it hadn't taken long before he had copped a feel of the straight boy's dick. His hand had enjoyed that rather long tube in his crotch, and he knew it was not a pair of rolled up socks either. Okay, so they had been drinking, and it was at one of those crazy college do's. Fact was, Dean had come across as straight, but that was then.
Dawson smiled as he remembered just how horny the guy had been, how the instant he had moved his hand away from the guy's crotch, he had his own crotch being squeezed and prodded. It was as if Dean was a natural groper too, at how his hand had reached under, pushed his balls up into his suddenly stiff dick. Man it had felt good, and from there, well things had sure moved fast.
Dean had led him outside the house where the party was, and seemed to know exactly where to take him. The guy was like a sex machine, at how he kept tugging at him, giving Dawson the impression that he couldn't wait. That at any second he'd rip Dawson's pants off, or his own.
He had led him to a spot, just behind a small little tool shed, and given how warm it was outside, he didn't care it was outside. They could hear the loud noises coming from the house, see the lights flickering all over, but they were clearly hidden from view. The lights added to the wild time too.
The way they flickered over the swaying branches of the bushes that they were in the midst of. It was crazy at how as soon as they got out of sight, Dean began to strip, and urge him to as well. It was like a fire drill, rushing but not. How his shirt had flown off, to reveal that creamy skin, those perfect nipples. Then it was like day suddenly into night, at how quickly his pants were shoved down to his ankles, his uncut dick sticking out at him.
Dean had reached over, and grabbed Dawson's face, holding his cheeks tightly as he planted one hell of a kiss on his lips, his tongue slipping in for a brief moment, then suddenly Dawson found himself being guided down onto his knees. Christ, it was amazing at how his body seemed to understand every push, every twitch of Dean's hands.
How they forced him down, to where his eyes were at level with that hard cock. Dean's fingers were spread over the sides of his head, and they began to pull him forward, which he didn't object to. His mouth was already opening, as he saw the cock head glistening in the darkness, the odd flash of light from the house showing him what a beauty it was. How long it looked from that angle, how damn tasty it looked.
He had immediately put his own hands outward and up onto the muscular thighs. He could feel the skin, feel the muscles beneath curl and tighten up to his touch. Dawson could smell his scent too, as his eyes opened wider, as his head moved in eager to follow the pulling motion of the hands around the side and top of his head. The hairs on the back of his neck were on edge, as he breathed in the musky scent, the aroma of sweat, of testosterone, of Dean.
How his lips had wrapped around the head, easily swallowing the little drop of pre cum that was there, then moving quickly to gobble the huge pole up, to let it fill his mouth and throat. Dawson felt the excitement, just as he had that time, and he glanced out at the service bay. Chip was by the driver's window, talking to the driver. He reached down, and adjusted his hard dick, as he licked his lips, remembering Dean.
The taste of that cock was much like Chips. The smell had been the same too, the aroma so heavy, so intoxicating as his mouth had swallowed the huge uncut dick. He had smelled it deeply, as his nose had pressed deeply into the soft groin. He had heard Dean grunt a little, just as Chip had that morning.
The way his hips pulled back, taking his cock out, then as his hands held him steady, had pushed back towards him. It was weird, at how he had moved his hips, to make his cock sort of corkscrew around, just as Chip had done. Dawson couldn't believe how similar they were, except that Dean had been the aggressor, much more than Chip had been. Still, the way he moved, the way he smelled, and damn, when he began to move that cock in and out of Dawson's mouth, it was just like Chip. His jaw hurt then, just like in the morning, and there was no stopping him either.
Fuck, how he had pounded his face, then pulled out, reaching down to pull his stiff dick up and shove his balls into Dawson's face, was still one of his most memorable memories of that time. How good they felt crushing into his mouth, how he had instinctively began to lick at them, and then start to suck on each one. How he had moved his hands to rub and caress the upper thighs, to run one hand across that trembling stomach.
Unlike Chip, Dean was more silent. His voice was muted, but then it was probably because of where they were. The guys in the house weren't what Dawson would call 'gay friendly' but then again, he hadn't thought Dean was. Who knew, but obviously Dean wasn't going to risk it. Still, the idea of sucking Dean off, all those other's just a few yards away, had its moments.
The way Dean had moved from side to side, while Dawson licked and sucked at his sac, at the underside of that cock. It was like a natural, but he didn't think of it then, he was too busy licking, and sucking. Then Dean had pulled back, and in one motion, aimed his cock right at Dawson. He rubbed it back and forth across Dawson's lips, then he shoved it hard, deep into the mouth.
It had surprised him, as did the way his hands were clenching his shoulders. Fuck that had hurt, as the fingers dug deep into his flesh. Still, the force of the cock pressing in didn't help his jaw feel any less pain. Man the guy was unhinged, as he shoved it in deep, then began to gyrate and pump.
For a brief instant he had gagged, but the motion didn't miss a single beat. Dean was deaf to his moans, his gurgling sound, as the thick cock filled his mouth, and then somehow the pain only got worse.
The fingers were trying to crush his bones, or so it felt, as Dean shoved his cock in one more time, hard and all the way. He had gagged, felt like he was choking, as the cock dug deep down into his throat. Then he felt the tremor, the way the cock suddenly began to shudder, to shiver actually. He felt the groin press into his face even more, felt his hands slide down, to grip Dean's hips.
There was a sort of growl, or deep moan that startled him, but he didn't have time to think of what it was, as he felt the cock head rear back, and then spring forward. Dawson knew it was about to fill his throat and mouth, and he tried to relax the muscles, to be ready, but as the first load of salty sweet cum began to roar into his throat, he wasn't ready.
Cum was flowing down his throat, and up it too, filling his mouth. He could feel it against the back of his teeth, as he tried to swallow, as his head tried to jerk back. Dean's hands suddenly were off his shoulder, clutching at his hair, twisting it as the cum dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. He heard the moan as he quickly tried to swallow, to keep it all inside.
Just when he thought he would pass out from the lack of air, from all the thick cream that was rolling down his throat, filling his mouth, he felt the pressure ease a bit. Dean's hands were no longer pulling or twisting at his hair, but were limb. The cock in his mouth was still, the odd tremor making it twitch, but he knew it was over.
He had time to swallow, as he heard the hard heavy breathing from above. Opening his eyes he stared up Dean's body, seeing how it shook, how it trembled as the rolling waves of pleasure continued to wrack Dean's whole body. How the thighs were quivering, the muscles twitching still, as he leaned back, one hand wrapped tightly around the cock base. He sighed, as he licked at the last drops of cum from the cock head, felt Dean quiver, then he let his hand down.
He looked up, and realized he wasn't behind any house, that he was at work. Standing in the door was Chip, staring at him with wide open eyes. Dawson knew he couldn't see his bulging basket, but in looking at Chip, he knew that he knew. He could see it in his eyes, as the guy looked at him, then looked over his shoulder at the empty lanes by the gas pumps.
Turning back to look at Dawson, he just stared, then asked Dawson if he wanted him to go get him a burger or something. Dawson just nodded, and as he watched, he wondered what it was about Chip that had him so friggin horny, even after all the shit from today. As Dawson reached down to push his cock to one side, Chip stopped and turned to him.
'Should I make more noise on the way back?'
The corner's of Chips eyes were lifted up, the eyebrows raised, and there also was a bit of curl to his lips, sort of giving him a sort of mischievous look.
'Better or you might get an eyeful.'
Chip stared at him, then as he began to head off, he turned back with a parting shot.
'That a promise?'