Road Rewards (M/M) up to Chapter 6

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KayDee
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Road Rewards (M/M) up to Chapter 6

Post by KayDee »

100% Fiction! Grown in my own garden.
With some experience mixed in.

Part 1 - Introduction

Chapter 1: Bad Luck

It wasn't Sam's lucky day. He was supposed to be at college early morning, and that wasn't going to happen by the look of things.

The Greyhound bus broke down at a mid-point rest-stop in western Pennsylvania. It had been over an hour late to pick up its passengers from the sorry excuse of a bus station in Harrisburg. The last bus of the evening and the only chance for Sam to reach his destination.

"I called dispatch, but I don't think they can get here till morning." The bus driver announced to the crowd in general.
"You're welcome to stay at the rest stop. The food court will close in... about an hour, but the station and convenience store will be open all night."

Displeased murmur waved through the bus's cab.

"This bus won't start, and there's neither electricity nor heat." the old man continued unabated. "Your luggage is locked below, but I will open it for those who need access. It will get to the next bus once it gets here."

Sam wasn't sure which was older – the bus or the driver.

His weekend in New York had been fun. A huge party that started Saturday afternoon and went till Sunday morning. He had crashed at a friend of a friend and spent what little money he had more on party fun and travel than on food or sleeping arrangements.

He grabbed his backpack and waited for the front to clear out of the dead bus.

Sam traveled sparse, no other luggage to speak of, mere necessities to change. A generically fit 21 year old in baggy jeans and sneakers, hoodie and baseball cap. At that age, you can ignore a day or two of personal hygiene. As long as there was a toothbrush and some toothpaste to spare, things were good.

About 30 people filed into the rest stop. Some hurried to the small selection of fast food vendors, peddling starchy calories. Others bee-lined to the restrooms.

The inside of the service plaza hadn't been updated in years, just added on top of old fixtures. Brown tile and walls throughout the main parts, and white tile for restrooms and food court vendors.

Sam wasn't hungry. He settled with others in the big hall of hard-shell tables. No one was talkative in light of recent events. Everyone tried to bury themselves head down in their cell phones.

Unfortunately for Sam, that's where his luck was running out further. Twenty percent on his device, a magic margin for limited usability made him curse to no one in particular. He rummaged for his cable. He was halfway through the pockets of his backpack when he remembered exactly where it was.
Somewhere in the grungy apartment in SoHo, still plugged into the wall.

He reflected briefly on the weekend. Not quite intellectually with a quill over a piece of parchment. More memories of dancing, lots of beer, and the occasional glance from various guys looking at his shirtless body.
He had come out to himself a couple of years ago. Only a few friends knew, as he kept things quiet. Life, he had decided, had to be that way for a while. No one really knew that he even made the long haul to New York City, save for a few new friends he had made.

Sam's bladder got the better of him. He decided to follow nature's call since most would have relieved themselves. No more crowded bathrooms for a while, please.

"Oh, sorry," he said, having turned around the corner towards the men's area. He had almost run into a human wall, covered in dirty denim bib overalls and twice the waist of the trim youth. Both came to a momentarily halt.
Sam looked up. This all happened in only a couple of seconds, as he noticed the stocky man, wearing a big shiny septum ring. "No problem, bud" a firm but friendly voice replied.

Sam adjusted his path and made his way to relieve bladder pressure. He was familiar with bears – big cuddly men. He shook the thought. Not everyone is gay, even if you want to believe that after an intense party in a warehouse somewhere in New York. So much dancing, so many different types of bodies and ages, and every color and type of fabric.

Relief came. Probably the rest of the beer.

Sam was alone in the bathroom and took stock in front of the mirror.
His short hair with the floppy top peeked out from underneath his hat. The last of his youth's pimples, few as they were, weren't so bad. His smile still causing most people to feel comfortable around him.
He checked himself. Hoodie and jeans with barely any stains. He should have brought another pair of socks and ditch the ones he wore since Friday. But Monday wasn't far away, and he didn't care.

A rainbow flag hung from one zipper of his backpack. Not his. A souvenir or prank – he couldn't decide which – from his fabulous new friend he stayed with. George, very curious indeed, must have clipped it on before he left.
He smiled. Maybe it was time to fly the fag-flag. He didn't favor the term, and he certainly considered disusing it in the future. But be a teenager and you call everyone names that you dare not say around grown-ups or the socially hyper-invested.

Ha washed his hands, straightened up, and formulated a plan to turn around the evening's misfortune.

He had the choice and play it safe, be late for school and get into a lot of education-related trouble. Or figure out a way to make it back to college by any means possible.

Winter in Pennsylvania is like rolling dice. One year can be mild with the occasional cold breeze, and other times it is nothing but snow until April.
Sam pulled up his hoodie and exited the warm and bright hall. It was a long-shot, but maybe – just maybe – he'd be able to hitch a ride closer to his destination.
It had gotten colder. The sun was gone for hours and whatever warmth it provided did not melt the remains of piled up snow and white blotches here and there.

Sam saw cars drive by on the turnpike. Few would usually stop at this place, with better options further down the road. There weren't many cars in the nearly empty lot. Most would probably gas up and grab a snack before hurrying along.
His best chance, so he thought, would be to wait at the area's exit. He was desperate, and maybe others would see it the same way.

He had passed the gas pumps and saw the denim-clad mountain again, exiting the convenience store with his arms full of beverages and snacks.

"Eh, howdy again!" said the stocky man.

"Hey," said Sam and slowed his pace. Normally, he would not strike up conversations with just anyone, but he did not have the luxury to be picky.

"Guess you 'er on that here bus that don't look so good?" The man continued.

"Ya. Broke down, and now we're stuck 'til morning." replied the youth as both synchronized for a walk-and-talk.

"And you don't like being stuck." the man surmised, balancing his merchandise.

"Trying to get to Ohio, at least Youngstown, if I can... at least tonight" Sam hinted.

"... Eventually where?" the mountain probed.

"Cleveland, Oberlin," Sam revealed.

After a couple of seconds of thoughtful silence, and the man said. "Well, I gladly help a young man – such as yourself – out."

To Be Continued
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Post by KayDee »

AUTHOR: As with "The Inscrutable Mr. Henley (M/M)", I know that I have the propensity for longer introductions. I strongly believe in backstory and setting a scene. I could write a story that quickly introduces characters and their features just before the first knot is tied... but I have to find a way to raise the bar for such venture.
There will be a payoff, gentlemen. Back to the story, already in progress.
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Chapter 2: Unexpected Break

"But as it is, I am done for the day. Pushed too many hours," he concluded.

Sam wasn't really disappointed. Just another small thing that didn't work out today.

"No worries," he said. "Maybe I get lucky."

"That's my rig here. I wish you all the luck, man. And you'll be careful now."

The man's truck was nothing fancy. Time and mother nature had left evidence of age and use on the cab and its decades-old paint scheme.

"Thanks... take care." Sam continued walking towards the exit.

He looked over the truck part of the rest area. Maybe ten at most. Some idling to retain heat, others dark. Would any of them take him along? He hadn't considered it before, but he didn't think it'd be a smart idea to go waking up a tired trucker.

He turned around at the exit, his backpack providing little but at least some warmth in the brisk weather.

The rest area stood illuminated before him. The Greyhound bus, a lifeless machine parked at one side. The neon-bathed building with passengers on the other, with what would be a skeleton crew of workers.

There weren't many people outside. A few of his fellow passengers smoking. It was cold, and he'd have to wait his chance for anyone in a vehicle to pass.

Sam thought about counting the cars and trucks passing next to the area, just to kill some time. It wouldn't be easy to wait like this, under the faint glow of an old lamp. But he had to try.

There wasn't any sign for minutes, and nothing to distract the young man in the cold night.

Then, suddenly, the headlights of a truck came on. Not coming to life altogether, but awake.
In its beams, he saw what looked like the big man from before.

"Hey! Boy! Come here for a minute." he heard the familiar voice from afar.

Curious, but eager to find out what was up, Sam trotted towards the man bathed in beams.

"I don't think you have much luck standing there wait'n for nothin'. And as it is..." the man started.

"My here neighbor," he slapped the grill of the truck with the emanating lights "was on the horn and I told him your predicament."

Sam heard a heavy door open and noticed the ever so slight movement from the rumbling rig, then a slam.

"Let me introduce Randy."

At first, it was the figure of a man moving from the shadows, joining the youth and the fat man in the lights.

"That would be me." a deep yet unthreatening voice from a man stepping out of the dark.

Randy was tall, easily a head taller than Sam. Dark pants, black boots, a red shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and a well-worn denim baseball cap over a bearded face. Two eyes illuminated from by the truck, focusing on Sam.

"Jack tells me you need a ride to Oberlin," he stated matter of factly.

"Yeah, I need to be there in the morning. I've got classes." Sam explained.

Jack, all denim, looked over at Randy moving his head and weighing things for a moment.

"Well," he finally concluded, "I was going to take a nap, but I can drive that stretch if you keep me entertained."

Sam wasn't quite sure what to say but started to smile eagerly.

"Keep it down with the Twitter, and we'll make time go by fast."

"Sounds like a good deal, buddy," Jack chimed in jovially.

"Only thing, tho," the burly man added, "I can drop you off in Akron. Can't bring you any closer."

"That's perfect!" Sam exclaimed. "I can get an Uber for the rest."

"Then that's settled," Randy stated. "Gentlemen, I think it's too cold for my balls."

"You guys be safe," Jack chimed in "I'll get some shuteye."

Randy remained for a moment and regarded young Sam. "Alright..." – "Sam"

"... Sam. Nice to meet you," he offered a firm handshake.

"Let me unlock the other side before you get in," Randy said, turned, and vanished back into the shadows.

Sam went to the other side of the cab. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but it was way bigger than Jack's – by far.

He took the mechanical sound and a faint light under the door handle as a sign to reach up and open the door to the cab.

Sam closed the door and put his backpack between his feet. Randy flipped switches, turned knobs, and seemed to get the truck ready to roll.

"I'd say we're good to go," he said, "Looks like about 4 hours."

Sam didn't say much. He was trying to understand the seat belt mechanism and was overwhelmed by the interior of the cab.
It was well organized, had various panels and lights, shiny details he didn't quite catch, and overall a matte black look.

The truck started rolling as Sam had strapped himself in.

Unlike the old Greyhound bus, this truck rolled so smooth that he couldn't tell the beat-up road underneath him.
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Chapter 3: On the Road

"I've never ridden in a truck before, but this looks nothing like I've seen before." Sam broke the silence after a couple of minutes on the turnpike.

"You probably didn't," Randy said with a smile. "Custom built two years ago."

"Huh." Sam could only say.

"It's not all CB radio and noises." Randy continued, "Satellite dish, large bed, AC everywhere, full insulation..."

Sam was surprised and intrigued. He had thought that truckers would all be like Jack. Overweight and crammed behind a wheel. He envisioned a little compartment behind the front seats, barely able to fit, let alone get any sleep with roaring noises of engine and road.
But this was something different. Underlights illuminated modern carpet and a generous console out of a sci-fi movie. Most noticeable was the lack of outside noises.
As he looked around, he couldn't help but notice Randy amid all impressions. The man sat comfortably, in full command of his vehicle. Rolled up sleeves showed off hairy forearms. Curiously, Sam briefly noticed the dark pants – they appeared to be leather.

"Sorry, I wanted to get on the road as soon as possible." Randy interrupted Sam's observations.

"That's cool. Do you have a cable somewhere where I can charge my cell phone?"

"I have outlets, but no cables, sorry," Randy replied.

"No biggie, I have about... 15 percent... dammit. Should be ok."

"But what I do have is a charging pad." Randy grinned. "If you give me your phone it'll probably charge mid-way."

"Sweet." Sam handed the phone over. Randy took it and put it somewhere on his left side.

"Not sure if you had anything to eat, but you're welcome to grab something out of the cooler here." Randy didn't have to look at it, as he knew where the small unit was.

"If you don't mind?" – "I got plenty. There should be chocolate muffins, and the cold side has fruit drinks." – "Thanks!"

For the first time in the past three hours, Sam saw a silver lining of a bad day. He was truly thankful.

Sam had four of the mini muffins and grabbed himself a drink to wash things down.

He offered the open plastic box with the baked goods, but Randy declined. There would be a rest stop after Pittsburgh if he didn't mind a quick break for a bite to eat something hot.

They both talked for a while. Oberlin college courses led to a career choice as a trucker, and then to some generic personal questions.

Sam was a student, tho not the best. Oberlin was a choice that took him further from home, without many friends on campus. Most of his family was in the eastern, coastal parts.
Randy, on the other hand, hailed from the midwest. His brothers enjoyed farm life, and he thought there was more money trucking and living on the road. A small house out west with his rig serving as a home away from home.

"No, I like being single," Randy explained. "Don't want to get married; tho, I'm looking for a partner... trucking does get lonely. How 'bout you. Anyone?"

"Naw, it's college, a cheap job and chillin' when I can."

About an hour in, and the smooth ride and company made Sam relax. It was nearing midnight. Even tho he had slept in that morning, he already yawned.

"You fallin' asleep on me, there?" he heard Randy ask him.

"Been a crazy day. I think it's catching up to me." Sam finished with another yawn.

"Tell you what, I'm good for the next hour." Randy pushed a button on the console. "Get some shuteye. I wake you when I stop."

Sam liked the idea of a quick nap and felt a sudden warmth spreading from his neck to his thighs.

"Seat warmers." he heard from a distance.

"This... is... amaz..." was all Sam could say before letting himself slip.

The last thing he heard, unconcerned, was Randy's voice as he looked at him with a slowly growing smile. "That's a good boy."
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Part 2 - Set in Motion

Chapter 4: Rude Awakening

The first thought coming to Sam was that he was comfortably reclined. There was a slight buzzing, something he couldn't peg. And a few more things. It was all a bit hazy.

"There he is," came the distant voice of Randy along with the cushioned sound of the moving truck. "Hello there, sleepyhead."

He must have fallen asleep. Whatever. Happens.
What time was it? Must have been a short nap. But deep.

Sam tried to righten himself up.

But couldn't.

This was not the only hindrance he encountered. Whatever had pulled him to sleep didn't really want to let go, and made it difficult to realize himself fully.

Sam wanted to say something, but couldn't!
There was something in his mouth. Something large that penetrated him, thick but soft. He tried to yell and push out whatever was stuck, but couldn't.

Something fixed firmly secured around his mouth, held it snug and shut, and whatever stuck in his mouth remained there. He could make out two straps running along the side of his nose.

He tried to shake it, without success.

He tried to reach it with his hands and noticed the next problem.

His arms were pinned to the side of his body.

What little he could lift his head revealed straps going across his chest, his stomach, holding upper and lower arms in place.

His hands were secured at the wrists, not just with straps around each thigh, but also stuffed in some soft, puffy bags. He had never heard of lockable mitts before, but he experienced them now.

It didn't end there as he noticed the most horrifying detail of the moment.

His cock was pulled through the button fly opening along with his balls. Not only was it sticking out in all its bare nature, few tufts of pubic hair, fully erect and glistening.

He was well hung for a modern man, but it looked bigger, like a centerpiece at a thanksgiving table. Perversely noticeable, hard with a little bit of floppiness.

If it hadn't been for his gag, he would have been rather speechless at the sight. That, mixed with mild shock kept his focus for an endless second.
Something was fastened around his manhood. Something he had no experience with. It was the source of the slightly irritating buzzing.

He tried to shake himself free and buck up, but feral instincts were nothing against the bonds that held him.

Not that he could see much more of the rest, but the straps around him continued around his legs. They went above and below his knees, keeping them snugly together.

He became more aware of his situation, calming down due to defeat. It took a long minute, but he settled for the most part.

"I guess you're awake then." came Randy's deep voice.

Sam was still panting but gave in to his situation for the moment.

There was a quick glimpse from Randy before he refocused on the road.

"You ate four of those muffins. Two would have been enough for a guy your size," he noted.

Sam was in a state of anger, frustration, and humiliation. He wanted to talk himself out of this, but his mouth was firmly occupied.

"Don't bother with the gag, boy," Randy explained. "Get used to that before the real deal."

The real deal?

Sam tried to visualize what was stuck inside his mouth. He started to mildly panic again when he realized the shape. It depressed his tongue, had weird lumpy parts, and the tip protruding at the end was roundish with a ridge on the center and a pronounced rim around it.

No pushing or huffing could change the fact he now understood. He was gagged with a massive cock-shaped thing!

He moaned, feeling emasculating fear and frustration set in.

"That's right, boy," Randy said tauntingly. "You learn fast."

With the last words, something happened that surprised Sam again. Not the last one of the evening, but a new terrifying sensation.

He noticed Randy pushing a button on a keychain thing, the same time the buzzing around his cock increased, along with its hardness.

Sam had liked his privates touched. Big surprise. Men "hate" any attention someone gives their cock. A handful of girlfriends had done so over the past 10 years, and even a few of his buddies ventured with their hands down his pants.
It would become clear – in due time – to Sam, that men knew better what to do with cocks. The unfair advantage, one could pose, comes solely from having one.

This was crucially different, tho. This was unexpected, to say the least.

Nevertheless, Sam experienced various emotions and feelings at this moment. He was trapped, immobile, orally penetrated, and hard – against his will. But not entirely without a certain... appreciation.

Whatever was around his cock buzzed with unstoppable, unavoidable intention. He couldn't stop it, couldn't reach it, and even if he fought it, there was a growing feeling that his cock liked it.

Sam moaned in despair and delight. Both feelings colliding and fighting with each other, and keeping his 21-year-old mind distracted.

He barely noticed one last detail of his bondage.

He looked over to Randy, who looked back at him with a devious grin.

Next on the console was a curious item that Sam realized as his own socks. He could barely move but realized now that not only were his ankles firmly pulled together, but his feet touched skin against skin. His big toes also somehow connected and now one unit.

He tried to wiggle and move his bare feet, but something held them almost firmly in position.

He moaned, looked around the cab rolling his head, and focused back on Randy.

The evil truck driver glanced back, reached for the remote again, and smiled at his captive before pushing another button.

The pace and vibration increased on Sams's cock. He barely noticed that Randy put the remote away and grabbed for one of Sam's socks to sniff them.

It was a detail for another time, as the bound young man tried to ignore the intense pulsing along his hard shaft, up to right under his head.

He couldn't fight the growing sensation. His muffled groan and struggle were completely useless. His sexual brain was at the mercy of Randy, and like it or not, his cock was enjoying it.

The intensity was unbearable, and Sam couldn't do a thing about it.

He struggled, yelled into his gag, tried to reach anything with his hands, or free himself in any way possible. It made things worse.

It took mere seconds, going over that certain event horizon of penile pleasures. That momentary calm for a split second as if pulling back a slingshot.

Sam started to yell with a firm silicone cock stifling most of the sound. His fists clenching and his toes curling.

Thick wads of cum spewed from the tip of his cock, aiming at his head. The first quick spurts hit his chest before shooting all over the hoodie from his belly button to his chin. It took five huge spurts before his human firehose had drained the massive load from his balls.

He slumped back into the comfortable chair he was fastened in – completely exhausted, and still far from thinking clearly.

"That's a good boy." he heard Randy finally say.
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Chapter 5: Squeezed

Sam looked over to the devious driver who had full control over him. Words failed him. Well, thoughts failed him in addition to that.

"It'll be a bit before the next stop. So..."

Sam felt empty in more ways than one. What now?

He watched Randy pick up a tube with a ball. It was curious, in addition to recent events. Where it came from wasn't entirely clear, but Sam quickly noticed where it ended.

The clear tube was long, but there was no mistake, it swung with generous slack from the end of his muzzle. It took only a second for Sam to put two and two together as he watched Randy's big hand start to squeeze the bulb on the tube over and over again.

He shook his head while signaling a clear "no, nono...".

"Prepare to swallow, boy," Randy announced as Sam could watch only in horror as something liquid snaked its way through the tube towards his gag.

He tensed up again, but he could go nowhere. His floppy cock banging from one side to the other flinging around whatever cum had oozed out at last.

It was no use.

The fluid had reached the muzzle and entered the gag part.

The fake penis inside Sam's mouth was pushing air for the past seconds but now started to pump the arriving liquid into his mouth.

The viscous liquid shot rhythmically against the back of his throat, and he instinctively did what he was expected to do. He started to swallow.

The erupting phallus pumped a considerable amount. Moans made way for gulping and some slurping noises. The assault felt like drowning, but he managed to take it all. It was inevitable.

The ordeal ended and left him as exhausted as his coitus had.

The firm silicone cock in his mouth was slick and even more humiliating than before. The taste of the substance was... odd. Not salty as he had feared, but somewhat sweet, like a syrup – and with similar thickness.

He almost didn't dare to look over at Randy.

A few seconds more passed before he could feel a few more spurts hitting the back of his tongue. It was more of a dribble but changed quickly to a watery consistency.
And that's what it was. The sweet taste passed, rinsed away with the stickiness.

"You should feel good, boy." Randy finally said. "You've done well."

"Don't worry..." Sam heard, starting to hear an echo, and feeling like packed into a tub of cotton, "...back to sleep."

To Be Continued
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Post by gag1195 »

Loving this story so far! Poor Sam in this situation. They always warn you not to hitchhike. I wonder what else Randy has prepared for Sam. The writing flows so well and the descriptions are perfect. Can't wait for the next part!
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Post by Trickster »

Holy F%&k! That was incredible! Please continue this soon!!!
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Post by blackbound »

Very hot conundrum our protagonist finds himself in, and a very interesting gag. Looking forward to more.
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Post by Smythdean »

Fantastic story. Really enjoyed the first few chapters. Kept the suspense up.
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

Your detailed introduction to the story eefinitely payed off. I loved how you combined the bondage with the gritty setting and the realistic characters. Can't wait to read the rest!
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.

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Post by privateandrews »

Great story , .so helpless so horny. more please.
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Post by KayDee »

Chapter 6: Some Freedom


Who could say how much time had passed for Sam? How many hours?

Sam certainly couldn't.

When he woke up, it wasn't as before. Not really due to his change from a semi-careless 20-something-year-old to a captive 20-something-year-old.

The world was soft, and he didn't know if gravity was still a thing. If it was, he didn't feel it.

What he did feel was someone strong – was it Randy? – next to him.

He couldn't quite open his eyes. His lids were too heavy. He gave up.

His lips were still around the realistic phallus, held firmly in place. He did not care for the moment.

Something around his cock opened and was carefully removed. The next sensation was a warm something blanketing his member. He could barely guess by the motion that he was getting cleaned up.

A few moments passed, the sensation ended.

Next was something at his feet. Fingers fiddled at his toes and he could move them again, separated from each other. He flexed his big toes automatically and rubbed soles against tops.

Next were his ankles. The snapping of the opening lock and jerking motion indicated a belt being removed.

Again, automatically, he moved his feet at the newfound freedom.

Something, however, was added. Something cold and heavy encircling his left ankle. He could hear and feel a distinct "click," followed by the same on the other foot.

Sam moaned softly at that but still didn't care much.

One by one, locks opened and belts around his body loosened.
He had felt good, but this was even better.

His wrists seemed to be left for last – that, and the muzzle.

"Almost done," he heard from afar, as Randy's manly hands fiddled with the thigh-to-wrist restraints.

He did not fight for more freedom. He was physically exhausted and mentally swimming.

An expertly executed maneuver turned him over to his side with his mittened wrist pulled to his back. He groaned as something snapped to his wrist and connected with a gentle yank to the other.

With the other thigh cuff removed, his arms could center on his back.

He felt Randy's left arm slide up over the high side of his body, concluding in a deep, soft hug, followed by the warmth of the trucker. The bearded head caressing his own briefly, feeling the bristles brushing and softly tickling the back of his neck.
A gentle kiss, a brief moment of unknown intimacy.

Almost instinctively, Sam pulled his legs up a bit and bent his head towards his knees. He sighed. Why the moment of content, he would not realize for a while.

Randy ended the hug.

Carefully, he rolled the gagged young man on his back, arms sandwiched between the captive and the chair. A push of a button and the back-support returned to its upright position.

Sam was still groggy as the burly man pulled him up to his feet. Nothing outside the cab seemed to exist.

To Be Continued
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Post by jackroper »

Great writing. Love the story and can't wait to see how it develops.
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Post by jackinpurple »

Damn. I really liked your other story, the Mr Henley one, but I think I like this one even more. Really good writing, REALLY good scenario. I would very much like to be in Sam's place :D I really really hope you keep this going!
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Post by MaxRoper »

Excellent writing, character development, and plot. I'm hooked.
Thanks for posting! Looking forward to more.
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Post by Trickster »

Finally caught up. Now really hoping you continue this story soon! It's fantastic!
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Post by KayDee »

A bit of a break, but the outline is set. All is to write and adjust. It will continue.
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ohazut
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Post by ohazut »

KayDee wrote: 3 years ago A bit of a break, but the outline is set. All is to write and adjust. It will continue.
oh, ok! nice to see!
spies
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Post by spies »

OMG! I got totally hooked. Your description is so vivid that one can really imagine the scene in the head.
Boundcurious
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Post by Boundcurious »

I’m looking forward to the next bit - thanks for keeping us updated!
harveygasson
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Post by harveygasson »

Wow incredible! Certainly looking forward to reading more
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