The following work of fiction contains descriptions of sexual acts between men, which may be inappropriate or offensive for some readers. If you find explicit descriptions of sex between men objectionable, then it is strongly suggested that you leave this page . NOW!
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Redneck Trucks - Part One
As you drive down the main street in this itty-bitty town, you might think it was the same town you passed through 20 miles ago, and the town before that, and the town before that. A used car dealership with the multi-colored pennants flapping in the early summer breeze. A homegrown fast-food restaurant with fat, greasy hamburgers and Styrofoam cups. Nail parlors run by the one Asian family in town. A church on every corner with some pithy marquee phrase urging sinners to repent, and show up on Sunday morning. Beauty parlors and bar-b-q joints, laudromats and check cashing places. And you'd pass a hundred four-by-four trucks with yellow ribbon magnets and "Ducks Unlimited" stickers.
And as I drive through those tiny Southern towns with names like Adamsville, Brixton, Frosty Knob, and Miller's Crossing, I tap the steering wheel to the beat of a country song, plan my next sales meeting, and keep an eye open for those redneck trucks.
My job as a traveling sales rep keeps me on the road most of the time, and you look for entertainment where you can find it. I've found that those redneck trucks promised some of the most entertaining drivers.
As you pass them on the four lane road, you look to see who the driver is, and inevitably, he's damn delicious in his volunteer fire department t-shirt, camouflage cap, Oakley sunglasses, and short trimmed goatee. If the tint isn't too dark, you can sometimes the thick dark wisps of hair on his forearms. Sometimes he keeps his gaze straight on the road ahead. Sometimes he turns to see who's passing him in the Jeep Cherokee, and sometimes he throws up his forefinger in that redneck greeting I'd come to love.
And then I imagine what might be hiding behind the door. No doubt blue jeans, with a faded ring on the back pocket. He doesn't have the foresight to wear a belt, and if he does it might have a big-ass belt buckle. The jeans wrinkle just perfectly in the crotch, giving the illusion that his cock is bigger than his shotgun. And down on the gas pedal, he's got a pair of nondescript brown cowboy boots or maybe some scuffed-up workboots.
That would always give me a movement in my khakis. I give it a gentle squeeze, return the greeting, and speed on past him, chiding him for marrying the fat girl.
That was a typical day for me, passing redneck trucks and stopping by on my clients in these small towns, showing them how their new cash registers worked and peddling a new machine to anyone who would listen.
It was once every three months that I got to call on my favorite client, Bill Hancock. Bill ran a small country store in Forest Hill that catered to the hunters and fishermen who liked to visit the town for its vast acres of woods and the river access. His supplies were pretty simple: beer, sodas, chips, Vienna sausages, fishing lures, and hunting licenses. The parking lot was almost always filled with redneck trucks, and the buffet of good old boys inside was positively mouthwatering.
Now, admittedly, gawking at these boys might have been a little more tragic if I had been older, overweight and evidently a city boy. But I wasn't. I measured in at a little more than 5'10", kept myself mostly trim with just 10 or 15 extra pounds, and did a decent job at keeping my dark brown goatee neatly trimmed. I sure didn't think was some sissy boy and I didn't think I was somebody's fat grandpa.
Today, I pulled into Hancock's just as the sun was about to reach its peak in the late May day. The parking lot was empty today and my heart sort of sank. Bill's beat-up green Ford pick-up sat in the lot near the store's back door. I drove up to the front door and killed the engine, stopping Tim McGraw in mid-chorus.
The tinny little bell rang when I entered the store, and I heard Tim resume on Bill's radio stashed behind the counter.
"Hey, Tim," Bill's gruff voice said from behind the counter.
"Hey, Bill! How you doing?" I asked as I reached out to take his right hand in mine. It was always thick, heavy and warm.
"Aw, I can't complain," he said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "Well I could, but no one gives a damn anyway." He finished with a chuckle, and his short brown goatee spread across his chin. His slightly weathered skin wrinkled slightly around his eyes, when he grinned at his own joke.
I smiled back and asked, "How's that new register working out for you?"
"It's doing real good. Seems to be real easy to use. Although this button always seems to give me fits," he replied, motioning toward a key on the register. "I was hoping you'd be in shortly to give me another crash course."
"You got it. That's what I'm here for," I said as I stepped behind the counter, and Bill stepped aside to give me access to the register. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"Well, I have to punch it two or three times to get it do anything."
"Man, I hate it when the buttons stick," I said, casting Bill a sly sideways glance.
I raised the cover and examined the button in question. I wiggled it and jiggled it. I took it out and blew into the hole to loosen any dirt or lint, replaced it and closed the cover. It was nothing high-tech.
"Now try that."
Bill's big frame stepped in front of me, and I was apparently standing too close. As he bent forward to check out the key, his ass came straight back into my crotch, nearly knocking me back against the radio.
"Oh! Hey Tim! Sorry about that," Bill apologized, and reached out to steady me by both shoulders.
"That's all right. I'm a big boy," I said and smiled.
"Well that you are. I've noticed that lately." Bill's grip lingered at my shoulders, smiling back. Bill stood at least four or six inches above my five-foot, ten-inch body. His brown eyes stared intently at mine. And I know the look lasted a little too long.
And slowly he leaned forward, aiming his mouth toward mine. It was a quick kiss as he gauged my reaction. As he slowly pulled away, another smile passed across my face.
"You ok with this? I've wanted to kiss you from the moment you walked through that door."
"Fuck yeah Bill. You're a hot man!"
"Good deal. I think it's about lunch time." He pulled away and crossed to the front door, flipping the deadbolt and flipping over the open/out to lunch sign.
"You wanna join me in the back for some lunch?"
Bill's beefy denim-clad butt swaggered to the door in the back wall of the store, and I followed him into the darkness. Bill flipped the switch on the wall and illuminated the meager stockroom and the corner office, complete with desk, a refrigerator, filing cabinet, and discarded sofa.
"You want a beer?"
"Sure thing.go ahead and have a seat. These oughta be good and cold."
Bill pulled two Bud Lights out of the fridge, swifty snapped the caps off and turned to me. He stopped, and a smile crept across his face.
"What are you grinning about?" I asked as he handed me my beer.
"Man, you are just so damn cute. Every time you come in here, I wonder if you've ever been interested in playing. It was hard to get a good read on you."
"Oh hell, Bill. I've flirted like crazy ever since I started come in here."
"It doesn't matter now," he said, sipping his beer and sitting down next to me on the couch. And again he leaned into my mouth.
Our goatees bristled against one another again, as Bill's lips met mine. The beer-flavored tongue crept across my lips and met my tongue. The contact sent shockwaves right through my body into my crotch, where I felt my cock begin to inflate.
Bill's free hand grasped my waist and pulled me closer to him. His hand reached up my chest and pulled at my nipple through my button-down shirt. And that was all it took to make my cock throb. I set my beer down on the desk and did the same with Bill's beer.
I resumed my kiss with Bill and reached for his thick pecs. It wasn't overly muscular but it wasn't fat either. Just thick and manly. My finger and thumb pinched the nipple hard and Bill moaned into my open mouth. Our tongues continued to wrestle while I worked his nip into eraser-sized nubs poking through his tshirt. And I knew I had to get that nipple in my mouth.
I broke our kiss, and pulled his tshirt out of his jeans. His stomach was wonderfully hairy, as dark brown hair radiated out from his belly button in every direction. I pushed the thin cotton up past his pecs and Bill finished the job, pulling it over his head.
It was positively mouthwatering. Bill's firm nipples stood out and invited me to taste them, flick them with my tongue. Bill's head fell back and let me work his tits. His right hand found the back of my head and pulled me tighter into his chest. In that close proximity I could feel the heat of Bill's own cock pressing against my stomach. Still wetly fastened to his chest, I popped the button on Bill's Levi's, slip the zipper down and let the fly spread. Bill wore what I expected. White Fruit of the Loom briefs. And my cock started to ooze with precum.
"Go ahead, Tim. Suck my cock."
I looked up at Bill and he was still grinning ear to ear. That was all the encouragement I needed. I shucked Bill's jeans down, revealing a hard slab of cock jumping beneath his briefs. I went in nose first, inhaling the deep sexy scent of piss, sweat and man. My tongue licked along the shaft that bent up and around the left thigh. A wet spot had formed near the head.
I pulled his underwear down and let that beauty snap free. Thick, about seven and half inches, cut. It was a cock dream cum true. With one hand still tweaking his nipples through the thick mat of hair, I guided the dripping cockhead toward my mouth.
"Fuck yeah boy. Damn that feels great."
I opened wider, allowing his length and girth to completely fill my mouth and throat, easing all the way down his cock until my nose rested in the pubic push and tears came to my eyes.
"Holy shit.nobody's ever been able to take the whole thing before. Goddamn!"
I slid my hand firmly up the shaft and milked a massive clear drop of precum out of the piss slit. My tongue darted in and scooped it out and savored it while looking right in Bill's eyes. I fell back down on his dick, generating lots of spit and slicking up the shaft, jerking it as I sucked on the head.
Bill moaned and groaned to spur me on, taking more and more of his cock in my mouth and sliding faster and faster.
"Oh fuck yeah Tim. Goddamn, I'm getting close. I'm gonna cum!"
I became more diligent in my cocksucking, working for his hot cum load. I wanted this redneck man's load in my belly. His grip on the back of my head became tighter, and his thighs began to flex. And then the tell-tale grunts as spurts of cum filled my mouth. I greedily gulped it all down, and pulled off with a smack.
Bill caught his breath and pulled my mouth to his, and kissed me deep.
"I can taste my cum in your mouth," he said, smiling again.
"That was great, Bill. I knew I always looked forward to coming here for a reason."
"Well you just come on back anytime you want. There's more where that came from."