Disclaimer: Do not continue reading if you are not 18 years old or you are offended by portrayals of male to male sex or the laws in your state or county forbid this type of material.
Copyright 2005 by the author. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Names, characters, locations and incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Martin Luther King Junior's birthday. I don't know why that day is particularly significant, but I remember that was the day I moved in and officially became trailer trash. Hell, Sun Beach Shores is a well-maintained mobile home park with great people, mostly upper middle class retirees. But residents in all Florida trailer parks seem to enjoy calling themselves trailer trash. Inside joke I guess.
The movers had just left. A really good crew. I tipped them well, I thought. I was checking that the phone and gas had been turned on when there was a rap on the screen door.
"Hey, buddy, I'm Mike. Number 74, yellow double wide five doors down. It's the one without a pink flamingo." He chuckled as he stood there in his khaki shorts and sandals. He had a thick head of gray hair that reminded me of Jay Leno but without the black spot. A snatch of gray hair peeked above his pink wifebeater. Mike's arms and torso gave evidence of hours spent on some kind of exercise machine. And I wondered how long it would take for my pale New Jersey skin to emulate his handsome tan. He held a six pack in one hand and a bowl of warm buttered popcorn in the other. "I figured you didn't have time to get groceries so I brought over a couple essentials.
"Hi, I'm Phil. I'm not all set up yet but come on in anyway. You can clue me in on the local scene. Take a seat." I scooped some wrappings off the dinette, we sat down and popped open a couple brewskis. "Sorry I can't offer you anything to eat but you're right I haven't had time to shop yet."
"You got a tuna casserole in your fridge."
"What? No I don't; hey, that's right, some lady came by this morning. I was unloading my car and she gives me this dish and said welcome to the park. But just then the van arrived. I put it in the fridge and forgot all about it. How did you know?
"That's Colleen DiCicco."
"Oh, yeah, Colleen. I remember she had a little brogue."
"Yep, DiCicco was her husband. Dead twelve years now. But she still thinks of herself as a good catch. She puts that brogue on, especially for new guys. Every new man gets one of her tuna casseroles the first day. She tries to make an impression before the other vultures descend."
"Vultures?"
"In an age-restricted park like ours, there are plenty of old widows who have their eyes out for any single men moving in. You'll meet them all real soon, don't worry. I assume you are single?"
"Yeah, my wife died three years ago." I said it matter-of-factly. The passion had died fifteen years before that. I suppose what we had could still be labeled love when she passed on, but maybe more accurately it was mutual respect.
"Widower, divorcee, don't matter. They'll want to get their claws on you."
"How did you manage to beat them off? Oh, I'm sorry, somehow I figured you were single too."
"You're right. Just me and my dogs. After a while, they give up and aim for the next new guy. Let's see you look about 60."
"62," I replied.
"I'm 67. Been here ten years. These gals are all at least 75, believe me."
"Hey, you want to stay for supper? I got a casserole in the fridge." We laughed and Mike agreed.
I put the pan in the oven and unpacked a few dishes. I gave them a quick rinse under the faucet and set the dinette. Mike just sat and continued talking. I noticed he had no qualms about adjusting his equipment. In fact he was giving it a good rubbing as he continued, "I came here from Akron. Worked for Goodrich."
"Ever been up in the blimp?" Stupid question, I realized right away, but I wanted to make conversation. I wondered if he was wearing any underwear.
"That's Goodyear. Common mistake though, people always mix up the two. I was in plant development. But in the later years, so much of the work was outsourced, that they weren't really developing new domestic plants, and I didn't feel like moving overseas, so I put in for early retirement. What line were you in, Phil?"
"I owned a small hardware store. Ace. Not a bad living. Put two kids through college."
"Sons?"
"One son, one daughter. Phil Junior's in Chicago working for a TV station. Margery's a school teacher in Virginia. You don't have kids, Mike?"
"Nope, never got married. Least I'm pretty sure I don't have any kids." He winked and deliberately rubbed his shaft. Now I knew for sure he had nothing on under those shorts and also that he was blessed with ample endowment.
We continued the small talk through dinner, what there was of it, and polished off the six beers. He said he should probably let me get back to work and headed back home. "You need anything, remember I'm in 74."
"You bet, the one without a pink flamingo."
That evening I tried to get the rest of my boxes unpacked but I couldn't get Mike off my mind. He reminded me of the Detroit Dan. When my wife had stopped her conjugal favors altogether, I was by no means ready to throw in the towel. I was middle aged but still as horny as I was in my twenties. I beat off regularly and began contemplating calling up a whore. But then one hot summer friday night after closing the store, I realized I needed gas and also wanted to get some stuff for a picnic. So I drove up to I80, pulled into a truck stop, filled the tank, and went in to pick up a few items. As I was putting the ice and chips and things in the car, I caught sight of a young kid climbing out of a semi. He waved at the driver who then drove off. The kid, maybe 19 or 20, sat down on a picnic bench. He wore a pair of torn cutoffs and a sleeveless shirt that hung open to reveal a handsome set of pecs. He looked hot (temperature wise I mean) so I thought what the hell. I grabbed two cans of coke, walked over and offered him one.
"Thanks a lot, Mister." He took a swig and then remarked, "Don't remember seeing you around here before."
I guessed he often hung out here and so I answered him, "Nope. Just needed to pick up gas and a few things."
"Can you use anything else?"
"Like what?"
"Like a bj?"
I was blown over. So he was a whore boy, and propositioned me straight out. I reacted without thinking, "I'd love it." My wife had never been willing to try oral sex and now this kid comes along with his offer like it was nothing. We went back to my car. I gave him a twenty and he swallowed my pecker. It was fantastic.
I began stopping there every Friday night on the way home from the store. He'd see me drive in (that is, if he wasn't inside some truck) and come right over and give me my weekly bj. I loved it. Then one week near the end of September, I didn't see him. I watched the different trucks come and go but the kid wasn't there. I guess my scouting was fairly obvious, cause after a while, a driver stepped down from his semi and came over to me. "You waiting for Jimmy?" I didn't know the kid's name, but I shrugged any way. "He's in the clink. Got picked up two nights ago for solicitation. Damn shame. He really gave good head." I nodded. "My name's Dan. From Detroit. Make this run to Massachusetts every Thursday. I'm a day behind this week. Always counted on Jimmy for a little satisfaction. Guess we're both out of luck."
"Well, yeah, guess so. Poor kid."
"Hell, don't waste your pity on Jimmy. He makes out just fine. He's got a whole lineup of regulars like us. A lot of long haulers use him. An arrest now and then is just part of the price of doing business. Next week he'll be back I `spect. In the meantime, what say you and me we help each other out." Again I shrugged. Dan led me over to his cab and I followed him up. He had a fairly ample sleeping compartment back in there. We both stripped off our pants and briefs and got into a 69. First time I ever took a cock in my mouth but it was worth it to have my own dick swallowed by this hunk. We spent a long time sucking each other off. Neither of us was in a hurry (like Jimmy always was). We could relax and enjoy each moment. Finally, I felt Dan tensing in my mouth and I was ready to blow my wad as well. We both had copious loads. After we erupted, we just lay licking each other's spent dicks. We didn't need to rush off to find another john. I guess I was in the cab about an hour. I got dressed, climbed down and walked to my car, just once turning to give Dan a wave the way Jimmy always did.
Sure enough, Jimmy was back the following week, but I never saw Dan again. Somehow, Jimmy's jobs weren't as satisfying as I thought they had been. I missed Dan. Now all these years later I'd met a guy who reminded me of Detroit Dan. I closed my eyes and imagined that hot late summer night at the rest stop. It was now February but here in Florida it was hot enough to seem like late summer. I pictured myself climbing into the cab, getting undressed, then turning to see not Dan but Mike with his wonderful gray hair and tan bod.
The next morning, I got up early, took a brisk walk around the park, and went back to unpacking. Midmorning, I took the casserole out of the dishwasher and brought it back to Mrs. DiCicco. I thanked her and lied that it was delicious. She tried desperately to get me to come in for a cup of coffee, but I insisted I had too much work to do.
Then I grabbed the popcorn bowl and headed down to 74. Two little border collies let Mike know that someone was approaching. I tapped on his door and he welcomed me in. I almost dropped the bowl though. Mike was buck naked. "Don't mind me, Phil. I just got back from the pool." Sure enough he had a wet speedo in his hand. I watched his two tight buns bobble as he headed to the bathroom to hang his suit over the shower bar. I assumed he'd grab a robe or something, but no, he just came back in to the great room full monty and took the bowl from my hands.
I confirmed that Mike was well endowed. He handed me a cold beer and we sat down in his Florida room. He asked how I was getting along. I told him how I couldn't find my alarm clock yet. I described how Mrs. DiCicco tried to get me to stay. I asked him about the pool.
"Join me tomorrow. I go over about 8 each morning. Good exercise. I like to go before it gets too blasted hot and before it gets crowded."
"Thanks I'll do that. I can certainly use the exercise." I squeezed my love handles. Mike didn't argue with me. "You sure are in good shape, Mike. Got to hand it to you, you got a great bod."
"I like to keep in shape." He stood up and flexed his biceps. "Like to work on all my muscle groups." He reached down and took hold of his schlong. "Including my love muscle here. Give it all the exercise I can." Mike started stroking.
I smiled at Mike. "That's one kind of exercise I do on a regular basis." I thought about the guys my age I knew back in Jersey. So many of them had prostate problems. Some hadn't had any erection in years and others were only able to get a semi boner. Luckily, I could still get fully hard and was horny enough to masturbate it to orgasm regularly.
"Hell, boy, then join me. Come on. I can tell you're just itching to get hold of your pecker." I nodded, stood up, dropped trou and kicked them off. Oh, yeah, it did feel good to go at it again. We looked at each other and beat away. Then Mike reached over and grabbed my dick so of course I grabbed his and we continued jerking.
"Mike?" I grunted.
"Yeah, Phil, what?" he whispered.
"Can we lay down on your bed?"
"Don't let go." Mike pulled me into his bedroom and we both flopped on to his king size. But I purposely flopped so my mouth would be by his cock and my cock by his mouth. Mike got the idea immediately, and took my dickhead between his lips. Soon I was recreating the 69 with my truck driver Detroit Dan. We were excited yet not anxious, stimulated yet determined. We sucked each other until we were both ready to explode. "I'm gonna blow any second now, Phil," he warned me.
"It's ok, I want to swallow." I quickly took his cock back inside. Mike took mine back in also and soon we were both rewarded with long spasms of hot cream coating both our parched throats.
Just as I had done with Dan so many years before, I now just rested here on the bed with Mike, petting each other's spent wet dick. "Know something, Mike?"
"What's that, Phil?"
"I think I like being trailer trash."