I was a tow truck driver prior to joining the service, and Ted, the owner of the company, told me I always had a gig if I ever was in a pinch.
"The fact that you came in least experienced, and yet left as one of the best drivers I'd come across, and you're serving our country......young man you can call on me for anything you need, and you've got a job here, with one of my best trucks," he said to me before I left for basic in Great Lakes.
I dropped out of college after three years, a year from crossing the stage and earning my bachelors in mass journalism, but the feeling of being in front of someone's television didn't appeal to me, so I drove a tow truck for four years. Ted, a burly, bearded white Bostonian, was a customer to my father's mechanic skills, and a good friend who did him a favor by putting me to work, and while Ted was leery at first, he'd learn that bringing me on the team was the best risk he'd take in a long time. On the flip side, I was tired of being chased and shot at in Richmond (Virginia), and though I made good money, my safety and sanity ruled above anything else. I talked to a Navy recruiter, going to see the lady with a friend of mine who was an active duty officer, and six months later I was on a plane to Chicago, going to work for Uncle Sam at 24 and get a new leash on life. I did basic easily, conquered my "A" school in Meridian, Mississippi as I became what's called a yeoman in the Navy (secretary, bookkeeper, type), and got orders to a chill billet in the country of Bahrain, coming home to visit after a year, and doing a three week stint.
"I see you're home," Ted messaged when he I plastered my location on social media. "Come and see me, I got something for ya."
He had a plaque with a photo of me, him and the other drivers erected in the rear of the wood, waiting for me, and presented it to me in front of some of the drivers. It felt like old times being in his musty, little office, and Ted, who'd put on a few more pounds, had a more hair in some places that turned gray (stubble), and less in others (scalp), as he was showing his age (57).
"Can I drive for old times sake," I asked as it was a Friday, and I was on a paper chase.
"Son, I've still got your old time card, and your CB radio. It's up to you," he told me.
I had dinner with my parents, then saw some family members briefly before grabbing my old piece, a black Sig Sauer P365 that I left behind prior to basic training, and heading back to the terminal to drive Glory, my old truck that Ted purposely let no one else work in until he was good and ready.
"You know my slogan. Don't come back empty handed, don't get chased, and don't get shot," he said as I cranked the truck, and I hit the road as he had me going east to Williamsburg, where we had contracts with a lot of businesses.
It was tourist season and the place was abuzz even at 9 p.m. due to the many attractions in the area. Plenty of people chose not to read erected signs noting of illegal parking and the consequences, and I was on the prowl, getting lucky within the first three hours of being on shift when I snatched five cars, most of them from out of town. We had a satellite yard near the Busch Gardens Williamsburg location, and it was an easy tag and drop, meaning I'd snag some vehicle, then take it away to drop in our yard, recording the snatch and continuing on. I went for my sixth car when I got dispatched to someone in distress.
"Got a breakdown in Newport News. It's off our grid a little, but it's paying big money. You good with it," the dispatcher asked.
I accepted and right then, I clutched my piece, and made a detour from the colonial city to go another 10 miles into the lot of McDonald's where a burly, white guy, wearing a uniform was waiting.
"Hey, I really appreciate you," he told me as I got out of the truck to shake his hand. "My name is Dale, I'm the manager here, trying to drive back to Portsmouth, but my car won't start."
Dale, who might've been in his late 40s, early 50s, was clearly flustered, and so I did a due diligence in seeing why his Honda wouldn't start, and it would appear to be something more severe than a battery or starter issue. I had him sign some paperwork, and he gave me his exact address before I helped him in the truck, and I secured the vehicle. 30 minutes later we were rolling, and he immediately showed he was a chatty guy by asking me a gang of questions.
"How long you been driving? Is there money in this? How your girl feel about you driving," he said.
I answered each one short as I was just trying to drop him off and get paid, rolling up I-64 heading east when we would get caught in a snag, an accident miles up ahead that would stop traffic totally. When I noticed no other break lights were on, I cut off the truck to save diesel, and we talked, as I learned that he, too, was from the Richmond area.
"I'm a white boy from the Southside," he said as he even went as far to say he attended the same high school as me.
Right then we clicked, as I explained to him I was in the Navy, and that I joined specifically so I wouldn't have to do the service he was provided. He dropped a hearty laugh that was infectious, then thanked me for my service as we started getting deeper in conversation.
"What makes you drive all the way from Portsmouth, to Newport News to work," I asked, as it was on average a 3o to 45 minute ride.
He explained he was living with an ex-boyfriend, Charles, at the time, and that he scored the job, only for him and Charles to break up, and he live with a cousin.
"They pay me good, and I didn't want to transfer," he told me before traffic started to pick up.
He asked about my love life and I mentioned I was single.
"No guy, or girl," he asked.
"No girl, and definitely no guy," I told him as I'd never been with another man.
"You sound so defensive, but baby, don't knock it til you try it," he said to me.
I wasn't a fan of man on man sex, never really curious to see what another man "could do for me" like he suggested. We rolled at a slow crawl as the accident seemed to be cleared up as he tried selling points to me on men.
"I've got two biological sons. My ex wife and I had sex constantly and I was damn good, but one day we got drunk and had a threesome, and let's just say that changed everything," he told me.
We were approaching one of the bridge tunnels when he complimented me, and told me how I could easily score any man on the street, and that man would pleasure me better than any woman.
"I'm good," I told him as we pushed through the tunnel, speeding up as I wasn't trying to hear Dale.
"You say that, but who you're in bed with doesn't define you. You're still human," he said as we ascended to the bridge surface.
I turned up the music as rhythm and blues was playing, and he toggled with his phone as he became silent, realizing my "wall was up." We were still 20 minutes from his place when the thought of being "pleasured" by another man crossed my mind, and Dale, who wasn't a bad looking, fat dude, was in the circle of ponder.
"I can make you cum in five minutes, and no one will ever know," he said to me as we were making a turn.
I was quiet, then started grinning as I wanted to see if I would like it.
"I'm not gonna change you, but I will change your perspective," he said to me.
I'd ventured far from my spectrum in many ways in the wee hours of this particular morning, whether it been my work zone, and of course my sexuality as I nodded he could undo my shorts.
"You sure," he asked.
"Yes," I told him, and he would crouch down below the dash and crawl over.
I got off the interstate in Norfolk, not too far from a college as I parked in the parking lot of what looked like some industrial plant. I cut the lights and locked the doors, and he would end up between my knees with a big smile on his face, looking down as he was pushing my shorts down.
"I saw that thang swingin' the moment you stepped out of this truck," he told me as I had a nice dick print, the product of a nine inch cock when fully erect.
I hadn't fucked, or even been blown in a good while as the women in Bahrain didn't appeal to me, and the military women were no better as they were either faithfully married or "ran through. Dale looked at it first, then took his hand to the base as he admired my curved tool.
"You got ridges with these veins. I could imagine riding your cock," he said as he added I was the first black guy he'd been with. "All these years I been wanting to suck some black cock, and here you are."
"You ain't gotta wait no more. You said five minutes, right," I asked.
"Make it ten," he said as he pushed my phallus and dug his tongue on my hairy nuts, causing a sensation like no other.
I didn't know I'd enjoy what he was doing, as he was taking his tongue to lick the middle of my balls, then sucking each one slowly, and so gently. He spent a couple minutes there and I'd see my precum rising to the top, gushing out of me as he hit the exact spot that had me grabbing his shoulders.
"How you feel right now?"
"Good, damn good Dale," I told him as I didn't want him to stop.
"You got this fat bitch in heat about to suck the life out of you, after you didn't want no parts of it. Now look at you," he said to me before putting his tongue on what I'd learn was my taint.
He rubbed the spot between my balls and ass, and had me raising my legs so he could devour me fully, implanting that tongue as deep as he could inside my asshole. I wasn't sure if I was "prepared" for that but he let me know I was fine, and commenced eating me similar to how I ate pussy. I began stroking my dick and he'd stop rimming, smacking my hand away and putting his mouth on the tip as he was able to get the entire dick inside. He took it to the throat, and I almost lost it as no one, my exes included, could do what he did. What was more impressive was that he didn't gag, continuously going down on the stick and letting his saliva roll so he could glide easily.
"Fuck Dale, let up, let up," I asked of him as he squeezed those lips so perfect on the shaft, and had me ready to bust so soon.
"Dale, honey, please. You're gonna make me nut all over this truck!"
He slipped a finger in my hole, tickling my prostate while he moaned and continued to siphon the seed out of me. The windows were fogged, and I was sweating when I began screaming, and shooting my load down his throat. I was embarrassed from how loud I was for I couldn't remember the last time someone made me cum like that, and that it happened from a man. He took in every drop and kissed the tip.
"How long was that," he said as he looked at his phone. "Damn, seven minutes? I'm losing my touch."
Dale hadn't lost his touch as much as he turned me out, for he claimed he didn't want to "change me," yet I felt the same way I did when came the first time when I was 15. The dude had me smitten, and wondering if I could take him back to Richmond.
"Alright, I gotta get home and do the same thing to my man, except he might fuck me after," he added.
He raised up to fix his uniform and lick his lips, and I fixed my clothes before putting it in drive and turning on the lights. We wouldn't say another word until we made it to his place, in which he shook my hand and thanked me.
"You got my number on the paperwork. Hit me before you go back overseas," he said to me as he exited the truck.
I'd leave, telling the dispatcher I was off the clock and turning the truck in for the night. I truly felt like a new man, for I came for the first time in a while, and of course I learned that I could be serviced by another man, and be absolutely fine with that.