Josh and A Fellow Traveler

Josh’s lively (if questionable) adventures started with this story.

In a window seat on a bus headed for Indianapolis sat a young man of boyish appearance, reading. The book, Wisdom of Casimir Dukahz, was provender for said Josh’s crafty mind. Pearls such as “Oil before intercourse” made good sense, of the common variety. “Virtue is its own punishment” bolstered his rake’s amoral self-esteem. Best was “Always end a sentence with a proposition.”

Best because, seated across the aisle, a man of growing interest to Josh looked his way as if entertaining some salacious idea. Stocky, barrel-chested, slab-shouldered, bull-necked, and about thirty-five, his eyes searched Josh’s round, pink, friendly face of rather delicate features including merry blue eyes. The boy’s remainder – from the neck down – lay concealed by sartorial disarray.

On the lam from Chicago (see this story), Josh, if smart, should have done nothing to call attention to himself yet could not resist his desire to make a proposition to the attractive hunk. Opportunity presented itself when the bus reached Fort Wayne and pulled in for a comfort stop.

In the men’s room, hunk and presumed hustler stood at urinals separated by one unoccupied. Eyes did not stray, they looked with purpose.

“Want me to hold that for you?” Josh made bold to propose.

“Your hands aren’t big enough.” The voice of a casino bouncer or TV newscaster tickled Josh’s core with some excitement, “I might let you practice when we’re on the bus.”

The man’s powerful stream impressed Josh as suggestive. He wondered whether the man, having assessed his virtue, would use oil before...

“You hard of hearing? I told you something, boy.”

Josh zipped. “We’ll have to sit together. My name’s…”

“Yours doesn’t matter but mine’s Rob. Just Rob. Got that?”

“Will I get that?” Josh pointed at what was being tucked inside Rob’s fly – which, provocatively, was allowed to remain agape.

After silent hand washing, the one followed the other back to board the bus. They sat on Rob’s side of the aisle. No new arrival landed nearby.

Underway, miles rolled uninterestingly past. Josh took up his copy of Wisdom… to smile at “Passion scorns common sense” and “Passivity’s a path for passion” and “Don’t sit down in a peg-house.” He held the book in his left hand – a precaution against unwanted eyes – while, with his right, he explored the gristly sequoia growing from Rob’s lap.

Thinking himself in the role of forest ranger, Josh began to pay homage by stripping the trunk back and forth. The tips of his fingers no longer met, such was its growth. Within an hour, Josh’s active arm tired, its slender muscles tiring.

Rob heard a sigh – of resignation? “Aren’t you happy now?”

“Not as happy as I want to be. My bottom…”

“Is way too small. No man even has ever been able to take it.” He waited. Explained in hushed tones, “I’m a professional, licensed in Vienna and Vegas. I service wealthy women with gaping snatches. A good living. No freebies. You’re getting to do what you are, kid, out of the goodness of my heart.”

With the speed of thought, Josh jumped ahead, “I’m a pro, too. Not licensed anywhere but mine’s a prehensile anus that, so far, has strangled some really big dicks. You getting a room in Indy? I’ll share your bed. Might make a bet with you – only I don’t recommend it. I might end up with your hard-earned money.”

Roy’s loud, chesty laugh was covered by a passing truck’s horn. He good naturedly took the back of Josh’s head and crammed it down over his Portobello head, which had begun to leak. Was he surprised that the boy’s instantly-opened mouth gulped it and sank down several inches further than anyone else’s ever. Then, his fun began.

“My god, I’m in love!” he thought during the onrush of fellative delight. However, caution called from him to raise the boy off. Rob gasped. “Honey,” Rob whispered, “you might asphyxiate yourself during a ride as bumpy as this.”

Josh beamed, “What a way to go! Only, not the best way. I’ll show you. You have no idea what I can do for you that no woman would.”

“Women have never done anything for me except ante up my tariff. I do for them.” Rob wrestled his tree trunk back through his trousers’ fly and forced its zipper to close. “Now read your book like a good boy. Lean up against me. You might gain some confidence by osmosis.”

A giggle from Josh, “My confidence will outstrip yours, big guy, when we’re in your room this evening. You’ll be leaning up against me.”

* * *

They vied at length (Rob’s) and depth (Josh’s), neither crossing the other’s battle line tolerance. The war raged, nearly wrecking the room, until Rob halted his body builder’s bulky balling and threw his head back to let out a magnificent, full-bodied laugh.

“My god, you’re wonderful!”

Skewered as never in his life, Josh surveyed, eyes gleaming, the chiseled features looking into his now angelically serene face and, with his palms, took the measure of Rob’s sculpted pecs. He called into action every trick of his rectal muscles without hindering the great cock’s calisthenics. With the greatest applied force of his anal closure, he caused their intimacy’s ramrod drives figuratively to turn around and around, to spin wildly and, under the impact of climax, to blast them into smithereens.

Ecstasy consumed their mutual consciousness.

Minutes after lights flared and faded, silence blared and tapered.

Reveling in the stillness, Josh stirred, drew in a steadying breath. “Truce?”

“Stalemate. Only…”

“Only what?”

“Only, I think the way we join is too perfect for clashes. The tip of my cock feels your heart’s throbs. A first for me, Josh – and I feel strange about it. I think, in my heart.”

Frisson!

“Rob, when I had you in my throat, you said something about being in love. I heard you. Have you ever been truly in love?”

“No,” his voice threatened breakage.

“Me neither. So, let’s don’t fight.”

“You mean let’s make love?”

“Let’s be in love. Where you are now feels like love to me.”

Affixing himself inside as if forever, Rob collected his lover’s smaller body in his might-filled arms, countered Josh’s open mouth with his for a kiss in which his manly tongue penetrated and sucked the other’s mouth in time to his cock’s grinding in and out of the ass that had become his paradisical destiny.

Starburst followed starburst until sunrise when, not once separated, they slept as one.

* * *

As flesh trade professionals, escort and hustler, in need of funds – they attended an audition call advertised by an agent passing through the Midwest and looking for new talent to be in porn movies. “D.C. Films is the best in the business,” Mr. Slowcum touted. “Show me whatcha got.”

Sensing sleaze might be afoot, Josh bared only his rear roundness and Rob his flaccid lump – at first. Josh watched Mr. Slowcum setting up a video camera. He cleared his throat, “How do we know you’re not some cheap voyeur? We don’t do freebies. Plus, you’ve not shown us your credentials.”

Red-faced, the agent fumed. Odd situation. New to him. Yet, there was something about the couple. “Credentials?”

Josh fondled Rob’s dangle. It began extending, angling up, rising in glorious display – the largest, most threatening thing of its kind in Slowcum’s experience. He gawked.

“You want to see what this thing can do to maim a kid’s throat and attempt to destroy his squeaky-innocent bumhole? We’ll take five genuine, government-issue steel engravings of Benjamin Franklin as credentials for you and your dinky camera’s voyeurism.”

Slowcum spluttered.

Meanwhile, Josh busied himself with his lover’s strained-button shirt – until Rob was revealed like an unclad Superman on steroids, hands on hips, blunderbuss cock pointing North, and eyes riveting defenseless, jittery Slowcum to his spot. Stunned, the agent drooled over suggestive bumps and grinds of Josh’s improvised strip-tease, and reached for his wallet.

Five hundred dollars appeared. There and then ensued action – big on and in small. Knockout stuff that had Slowcum’s remaining strands of hair standing from their follicles.

Two weeks later, he returned with a crew and a contract from D.C. Films. Thus emerged the famous video porn series marketed through the roof under the title Bedscapes I, II, III, and IV. “Pure! Plotless!! Prurience!!!” screamed D.C.’s advertising slogan. Fictional biographies were created for the stars, Little Jay, who changed his hair color, and Big Rob, to whose body’s bulges were added transfer tattoos for variety.

The standard disclaimer about the actors being “eighteen and older” wasn’t questioned before Twink Magazine reviewed Bedscapes III. “Pederasts worldwide must be slobbering down their fronts over Little Jay, who appears well below any legal starting line. The young star – whatever his actual age – is accomplished to the nth degree of sexuality. Undaunted by co-star Big Rob’s massivity – see it, believe it – he displays only supreme happiness when engaged with it. With laws as cockeyed as those of many countries, this video could be pulled from circulation at any time. We recommend immediate purchase.”

For their own protection, Slowcum advised relocation from Indianapolis. “Prosecutor Pearcy’s Pussy Possee aims to wipe out prostitution of every sort here. As paid porn stars, you could come under his purview. We don’t want that, now do we?”

Rob, who was lazily linked belly-to-back with Josh, his loaded missile shuttling slowly back and forth in the young man’s silo, said, “Guess not.”

Slowcum pushed down what rose in his groin while informing them, “An associate in Chicago, if you can believe it, guy name of Ecks, is involved with a secret flesh-trade outfit, out in the countryside, called The Farm. Sounds ideal. Even has its own line of very exclusive videos, full studio, the works. You’ll be safe there. Amazing accommodations, Ecks claims.”

“When do you we go?” Josh asked, pumping back to speed things along, his baby-blue eyes sparkling.

“Pack everything now. Clean out this place. Leave no trace. You have about one hour before their small bus arrives. The driver,” he looked at the notes from his last call with Ecks, “is a large Native American, Ben Arrowsmith, who’ll be with his farm partner, a ‘delicately limbed silent beauty’ named Avery.”

Slowcum regretted not having his camera to capture the resolute beat of Rob’s hips as they slapped feverishly into Josh’s responding flesh. The perfect equilibrium of their total love – Total Love, great title for a porn video! – reminded him of a misadventure he had years earlier in distant Finland.

They jolted into climax.

Slowcum sighed.

Hoped.

For a light-verse seasonal treat, try this story.  

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