Parkside Delivery

Travellin' Tony

The trip was a bang-up ride as he rolled across the bed of that truck, bouncing straight up as they sped down those rutted backroads, knocking his head against the metal flooring too often before he learned to read those signs of any impending action, hearing as the front fork caught a pothole, girding himself for impact.

He was sure this new torture was intentional but he had no option except to endure this abuse.The sheet he had been wrapped in was his own, a surprise but he now understood whoever was pulling the strings on this Puppet Show knew all the actors in this scene and that suddenly chilled him to the bone.

It was clearly a setup and Darren and Dwayne might even have been in on this scheme.

Whoever that big black stud whacking off on the other side of that gloryhole in that Dorm toilet might have been some trick that Dwayne had brought along, some street punk trying to even that score between these Corpus Christi boys and those Townie twinks.

Was he just unlucky to wander into their trap or had that been the plan, to get him alone in that Dorm toilet on a Thanksgiving Weekend, to be their newest queer conquest?

After those first few turns the sheet loosened and he had wiggled out of it, his wrists still trussed and his sneaker laces binding his ankles, that tank top pulled up and over his head slipping down exposing his face, his hairless chest open to this cold Fall wind, his nipples so hard that they ached from the abuse earlier in that bathroom stall.

Looking directly up into the night sky he could see the moon but he was lost and he certainly didn’t want to announce to he was free of that wrapping. 

He just lay there, nestled against those bags of soil and sod lining the walls of the truck when he felt the throbbing of that 18- wheeler approaching.The cab of that truck was festooned in small hazard lights strung like fireflies, the wheel well so high all Tony could hear was the echoing roar of those tires.

Looking up as it came alongside, Tony realized that he was the sole focus of attention.

The driver was smoking a fat cigar stuck in his craw, bull’s-eye in that shaggy goatee, that craggy face topped off by a backward baseball cap. The only other hair were wild twists of wiry eyebrows, but it was those large round eyes that kept Tony’s attention, staring down on him stretched out along the length of that truckbed, completely naked with his limbs lashed, a faun posed on that green bed of turf.

A hand grabbed at that cigar, the blast of air horn splitting his eardrums, the driver guffawing at this sight below.

To Be Continued..