Knight in Shining Tow Truck

“I’m John by the way,” he says softly, out of nowhere.

“Oh, sorry. Hey John. Thanks for picking me up. I felt pretty stranded out there. I don't think I saw more than 5 cars the whole time I was waiting.

“Yeah, not many people use that old service road since they built the…” 

My phone cuts him off, chiming rapidly, as notifications come flooding in, one after another now that we've left the dead zone.

“Wow you’re popular,” he chuckles.

I look at the home screen and see the multiple missed calls and messages from the rental company as well as a few from work and a bunch from a very frustrated, eager bottom. I scroll through the voicemails and decide to play the last one.

“Aden, this is George, the vice president of consumer satisfaction. My team filled me in on the unpleasant experience you had today and we can’t apologize enough. I would like to speak with you in detail about how we can rectify the situation at your earliest convenience. In the meantime, we took the liberty of booking you a room at the Motor Inn as we do not want you to feel forced to drive so late.”

“So I guess they got me a room. That’s a relief!” I sigh and absentmindedly unscrew the cap from the whiskey bottle and take a swig.

“Oh shit, sorry,” I say just after I swallow, realizing I’m in a car with an open container.

“You’re fine buddy. I’d be doing the same,” he chuckles.

“Actually, mind if I have one of those brewskis?”

I look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean if you don’t mind, it takes a lot more than a beer to affect my driving if you’re concerned.”

I think for a second. I really don’t give a shit about anything at this point besides maybe getting my dick in my hand to jerk off thinking about the hunky, sweaty man sitting next to me. I grab a beer, crack it open, and hand it to him.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully taking the can.

A bit of foam overflows and drips down his thumb and I feel my ass twitch when I see his long, thick tongue lick it up. Fuck, definitely going to be getting off to him many times. I need to calm down.

“Mind if I open the window?” I ask.

“Oh shit, yeah. Sorry. I don’t notice the heat or my stink much since I’m on my own so much in here," he says with a soft laugh as he rolls down the windows.

I noticed for sure and loved every second but I needed some air. Luckily the whipping, warm wind didn’t subdue his musk as much as it spread it around.

After a few more minutes of silence, I notice John had finished the last of his beer, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He crumples the can in his large fist before tossing it behind him.

He’s such a stereotype and it’s turning me on. I have no doubt that he’s straight, probably a Republican that played football in high school or something and beat up queers like me when he was younger. I’m a masculine guy, pretty butch for a gay guy my friends always say, but I felt so feminine in comparison.

I’m tall, hairy, and built too, just not as tall, as hairy, or as built as him. Between his domineering stature and the way he seemed to exude masculine confidence, I might as well have been a twenty-year-old twink, desperate for Daddy's cock.

“So John, do you live close to where you’re dropping me off?”

“Yup, me and the wife got a place not too far from there.” 

Damnit, I mean I knew it but… damn, why didn’t I check for the very obvious gold wedding band that seemed to mock me as its shiny finish gleamed in the flashing lights. I crack open another can and offer it to him. He gave me a big appreciative smile and takes it from me.

I take another, bigger swig of whiskey and pull out my cigarettes, holding it up, and ask “Mind if I?”

“Not as long as I can bum one.”

I light one and hand it to him, not thinking about how weird that might be since I’m a complete stranger but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He looks like a Marlboro ad as he smokes with his muscular arm resting against the open window.

I did my best not to stare but couldn’t help peeking when I could, especially at the mound in his crotch. I couldn’t tell if it was actually his bulge or just the thick fabric curved and folding over his groin but I am getting increasingly desperate to know what he is packing.

“So what brings you all the way up here?” he asks breaking the silence.

I explained to him about the meeting I had and what I did for work. That lead to more light small talk that then trailed off.

“We almost there, John?” I asked after a long span of comfortable silence. 

“Bout ten minutes or so.”

I hand John the last beer and take another swig of whiskey before lighting two more smokes for us.  Between the whiskey and the friendly warmth from this guy, I feel pretty at ease yet alert enough to say or do anything to get myself in trouble. A punch in the face from this powerhouse of a man would knock me out. However, a rough slap, now that would be hot.

We finally pull into a mostly empty parking lot in front of a dated motel, complete with flickering lights in more than half the letters of the neon sign.

“Here we are," he says with a smile.

“Thanks again, John. Sorry to make you work so late.”

“My pleasure.”

There is a brief pause as our eyes make contact. I catch a glimmer of something in his or at least I think I do.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you, I’m sure your wife wants you home.”

“Nah, she’s at her sister's for the weekend.”

"Oh."

The silence hangs heavy this time. I might be drunk but I swear he's eyeing me up as I hold his gaze.

“Why don’t you go get yourself checked in while I unload, then just come back to sign off and your nightmare will be over," he suggests, finally cutting the awkward silence.

I feel my face flush. The day was a nightmare but the last hour was almost pleasant. He is a fucking walking wet fucking dream and I wanted him to make me his bitch until he unloaded in me. The whiskey is definitely hitting me, I never think this way. 

“Sure,” I reply, trying to hide my disappointment.

I tell myself that there was no glimmer in his eye and he wasn’t offering information about his wife being away as a hint of any kind. He simply answered the question I asked. Wait, did I ask?

I enter the dated, shabby office and approach the sour-faced old lady at the check-in desk. Luckily, unlike anything else that happened today, the process was seamless. It takes only a few minutes before I have my room key in hand and head back outside. 

John is just about finished as I collect my belongings from the passenger seat. He comes up to me with a smile, his whole body glistening with fresh perspiration as he holds out his clipboard.

“Just sign at the bottom and your all set.”

“Switch?” I ask extending the bottle of whiskey in my hand for him to hold while I take the clipboard.

I watch in amusement as he unscrews the cap and takes a big gulp. He looks at my face and his eyes go wide with understanding as he lets out another chuckle. 

“Oh, you meant to hold.”

“It’s all good,” I smirk back at him as I sign and date my hefty receipt.

“In that case…” he says before taking another swig with a big smile.

“Thanks again,” I say, not ready to say goodbye to the only good part of this horrible situation. 

I’m starting to turn away disappointed when I hear his voice, turning me swiftly back toward him.

“One last thing…”

“Yeah?” comes my overeager reply.

“Mind if I use your bathroom? Those beers caught up to me.”

“Sure,” jumps from my mouth way too excitedly.

I unlock the door with him close behind me. I can feel the heat radiating from his body and it takes every ounce of willpower I still have to not lean back into him. The door swings open to a typical roadside motel room. Dated, a little dingy, and kind of sleazy.

I toss my things on the small table as he brushes past me to use the bathroom. He must really have to go I think, noticing he didn’t shut the door behind him. I hear the familiar sound of a strong jet of piss hitting water and a soft, low moan which is making my dick start to stir. I try to sneak a peak but unfortunately, the layout of the room didn’t work in my favor.

I sit down, mind in a trance, wishing I was kneeling in front of him, getting sprayed down in his hot piss, or even drinking it before sucking his cock. I am normally a top and usually the dominant, aggressive one but something about this guy made me want to be his bitch.

I was so lost in thought I didn’t even notice John walk out of the room until he was standing by the door and cleared his throat. I jump up, startled, and head toward his extended hand.

“Well I’m off...”

Our hands grip each other, his rough and dry, almost encompassing my soft, smooth one. I feel a twitch, a tingle, and a shiver. I’m safe or safer now if he doesn't appreciate my advances I rationalize. I definitely can’t be thrown out of a moving car while standing in a motel room. I keep my grip firm on his and stare up at him until I muster up the courage to shoot my shot.

“Or, you could stay.” 

---

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