The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rod’s Rap

Handle’s Rodman. Run my own rig, living on the Interstate, hauling loads ‘cross country. Gotta big GMAC Interstate Cruiser, painted deep metallic blue, with “Rodman” and my ID numbers on the doors. Got the back cabin fixed-up—it’s my only home, ‘cause Roadsmen’re always on the move.

Take the long runs, from East Coast to West Coast and back again. Know all the big shippers and ride all the time, no more than a day or two break now and then. My world’s the Interstate Truck Stops, big rigs hauling ‘cross the plains and mountains. Ya get to know the other truckers, get to know who’s a Roadsman and who’s just driving.

Roadsmen are a special breed. Always on the go, no permanent home, just living on the Interstate. We’ve our own Code of the Road. We protect each other; we know who’s going where; we cover for each other and trade off jobs and... things. The Code says every Roadsman is the Boss of his Rig; Roadsmen don’t judge each other ‘cause we’re all a little peculiar an’ funky.

Roadsmen are righteous. Righteous dudes own their own rigs, run their own lives. We don’t take shit from nobody. Nobody controls my mind.

We got our own names for people and things. If ya’re not a Roadsman but ya drive for a living, ya’re just a Truck Jock. Or if ya drive an auto, ya’re a Van or Car Jocky. Then there are Tourists. They always get in the way when ya’re pushing to stay ahead of Schedule. People working at the Truck Stops are Roadies. And the mostly runaways who hitch from Stop to Stop are Rideboys an’ Roadtramps. And, of course, the State Troopers are Mounties, or Smokies or

just the Man. Hey, some of them are righteous dudes. So are some Bikers; righteous enough to be Roadsmen too.

It does get boring, hauling loads three thousand miles. Ya want company on the road; the right company. Truckers, the ones that have ‘em, keep their families way out in the country, an’ stop by every few weeks, ‘tween long hauls. But real righteous Roadsmen only have the Road. So for company, ya pick up Riders who know the score. But sometimes ya get a new runaway, to train righteous. That’s how I learned to be a Roadsman. That’s how I trained Wilmont.

Being righteous means ya can demand what ya want, an’ ya get it. It means ya know the Right Thing to do; an’ what ya do is always the Right Thing. An’ every Roadsman backs ya, no matter what ya want. We run our world, the world of Roadsway.

Brad’s Rap

Wilmont’s the smallest town—but the only town in four mountain counties, up off Route 80 about a hundred miles. We call that Interstate the Road. Wilmont’s a place to leave when you grow old enough to know that there’s a world out there.

My Pa was a trucker and Ma died when I was young, so my Aunt Betty Mae raised me with her brood. The county high school was my first escape; especially the library there. When I was there, I wasn’t a hundred miles from the Road anymore. I was in the middle of the rest of the world. I got the best grades in my graduating class. Top wrestler too.

I knew I was going to leave when I high school ended. The scholarship to the State U. was easy. I was going to hitch around all summer and get to the university for the start of classes. That’s not exactly what happened. College got delayed for a few years after I met the Rodman, and I was hooked on riding the big rigs, on life on the Road. Now I’m a graduate student in Sociology, specializing in hypnotic mind control (my dissertation is going to be on mind control on the Roadsway) and I still ride every summer. But that first summer was special. It changed me forever.

Route I-80

Just the late night cold drift of the long hills and the highway. The road from Wilmont crosses under I-80 ten miles from the interchange. At the bottom of the hill a lone figure waits for a ride, but the big rigs roar past him, and the few autos zip by without slowing.

Then, just before dawn, one Interstate Cruiser stops, its breaks smoking from slowing on the downhill. The cab is dark blue and the name “Rodman” is painted on the door. It opens and a voice calls out, “Hey kid, don’t ya know ya can’t hitch at the bottom of a hill? Hop in so I can get moving...”

The hitcher who climbs up is young (it seems so long ago, and I was so young...). Sneakers and worn levis, jean jacket pulled up against the wind. Rodman can see his longish brown hair and grey eyes before the light goes out as the door closes. The youth gets one good look at the driver: a big man, very short dark hair, with mirror shades, though it’s still the dark before dawn; wearing jeans and work boots, black leather vest and no shirt. The man’s arm

muscles bulge from the vest, and he turns to the youth, white teeth grinning, “Rodman’s my handle. Where you goin’?”

“West, I guess. I’m from Wilmont, up the road a hundred miles; been hitch-hiking two days. My name’s...”

“Whoa, boy, ya don’t give ya name on the Road. Guess ya don’t have a handle, so “Wilmont” will do. That’s ya handle for now. Ya don’t know much about life on the Road. The Roadsway is tough. Ya gotta know the rules. First Rule is that a Roadsman is the boss of his rig. Ya ride with me, ya do what I say. Got it?” “Um, well, yeah...” “Nah, the right answer’s ‘Yup, Rodman!” “You sure you don’t want me to say, ‘Rodman, sir’...” “Yeah, sometimes, when its righteous, ya do.”

“That’s the Second Rule, Wilmont. Roadsmen are righteous: everybody treats us with Respect. Ya wanta be on the Road, ya gotta learn Roadsway. Ya gotta show Respect. This is ya first time hitching, right? First time away from home, right?” “Well, yeah...” “Nah, boy, try it again...” “Well, ok. Yup, Rodman.”

“That’s better Wilmont. Ya new on the Road, so Rodman’s gonna train you right. So ya know how to behave on the Road and with Roadsmen. Got it?” “Well, yeah...” The Rodman reached a big hand out from the wheel and wacked the youth in the stomach, hard enough for him to gasp. “That’s to remind ya to say it right!” “Uh, yup Rodman!” The Roadsman turned to the youth, with a friendly grin, softening his voice, “That’s it boy, now we’re getting somewhere. Ya

do whatever I want an’ ya’ll do alright. Now ya catch some sleep; in a couple hours we’ll be at the last Truck Stop before the mountains. I’ll wake you then.” “OK.. uh... yup, Rodman.”

They drove on in silence and the youth was soon dozing, leaving the Rodman to consider how he was going to handle training this kid, turning him into a Rideboy any righteous Roadsman would let on his rig. He began to talk softly, as though to himself, knowing the sleeper would hear, was ready to enter the world of Roadsway. “Ya just relax, listen to the sound of my voice...”

Truck Stop

“Got it. ...And wake up, Wilmont, we’re here!” The Rodman leaned over and shook the youth awake. “We’re getting gas. I’m getting us some grub. Ya stay put. Later, when ya learn how, and we’re getting gas, ya check the brakes and tires. This time I’ll do it.” The sleepy lad mumbled a “Yup, sir...” and dozed off. “It’s OK boy. Good boy. I’ll be back in a while...”

When the Rodman climbed back in with a bag, sandwiches and drinks, his rider was awake and looking around. “Eat up. We’re nearly an hour ahead of Schedule. That’s the Third Rule of Roadsway—Always stay ahead of Schedule, ‘cause suprises happen... So ya eat quick ‘cause we’re not done here.” He moved the truck around the side of the Stop, where there was room for big rigs.

The ham and cheese sandwiches and cokes disappeared quickly. “They’ve got showers here, just enough time to get cleaned-up. Let’s go.” Before Wilmont responded, the Rodman hauled him across and out of the truck. They were inside and in a hallway, with the Roadsman producing a key and entering one of the numbered doors.

It was a big, bare tiled room, with a shower in one corner, toilet, sink, mirror and table. The floor had a drain near the shower. Rodman latched the door, put down the bag he was carrying, and a shower kit. He turned to Wilmont, “Strip. We gotta shit, shave an’ shower quick.” He turned to some hooks on the wall and shucked his vest, flexing his strong, well-defined back muscles.

Wilmont continued watching as he kicked off his boots and dropped his jeans, revealing hard muscled gluts and thighs; no underwear. As he pulled off the pants and hung them, Wilmont caught a glimpse of the big man’s hairy testicles and thick shaft. He turned away and undressed rapidly, looked back to find the Rodman staring at him, big arms crossed in front of his chest, his manhood hanging free and heavy. “Ya’re in pretty good shape, boy. What was ya sport in school?” “I wrestled.” “Hey, good, I like to rassle too.” The trucker grinned, and motioned him over toward the shower kit. “Before we shower, it’s shavin’ time.” The shaver was out of the kit and he was shaving by the mirror. Wilmont walked over to him, and the Rodman turned, “Nah, ya don’t look like ya shave too often yet. But we gotta clip ya, that hair’s too long for the Road.”

He grabbed Wilmont by the nape of the neck. The youth squirmed to get out of the way, but the powerful arm held him. The shaver came across his head, leaving a short strip along it. “Hey!” Wilmont protested, but the Rodman held on, trimming his head to short fuzz. Rodman let go. The youth pulled back, both stood staring at each other.

“If ya gonna ride with Roadsmen, ya gotta look like ya fit...” He stepped toward the youth, firmly gripped a shoulder and pushed him to the shower. The Rodman adjusted the water and got them both wet. Releasing Wilmont, he turned away, “Make yourself useful—take the soap and scrub my back.” The youth did as instructed, soaping the big trucker’s broad back. The Rodman turned back, took the soap and scrubbed the boy’s back, carefully soaping between his legs, holding him while he squirmed, “Now hold still boy, I want ya real clean!” He finished, releasing the youth back into the water, letting them both rinse off. “I want you to relax, pay attention to the sound of my voice. Then ya’ll know what to do. Got it.”

He faced Wilmont as they both towelled. As he dried his crotch, he nodded, “Wilmont, don’t be shy. I want ya to meet Rodney here.” He held his thick, hairy shaft up, “This is Rodney. He wants to get to know ya. Come here an’ give him a howdy.” He stepped to the youth, “Go ahead, shake a hand with him.” The big man arched slightly toward Wilmont as he reached his towel up to dry his hair, his stiffening cock pointing at the youth.

Wilmont reached out and gingerly touched it. “Now boy, grab it an’ give it a good workout!” Wilmont handled the lengthening shaft, amazed at how hard and warm it had bcome as he had touched it. The Rodman dropped his towel and placed his hands on his hips, staring down at the youth as he began to stroke the trucker’s erection. After a minute of this stimulation, he ordered, “Now squat down an’ get closer to it.” The youth complied. Rodman reached down and pulled the youth’s head to his cock, “Now suck.”

Wilmont glanced up briefly and looked back at the erection throbbing before him. He gulped once, opened his mouth and leaned foward while the Roadsman pushed his cock into the waiting mouth. The youth began to suck awkwardly at first. “Easy, boy!” Rodman instructed. “Suck hard, but watch those teeth. Just suck it in deeper, keep a steady pace an’ swallow what I give ya...” With one big hand he steadied the youth’s head, began to pump his cock in as he was sucked. His pace quickened, and in a few moments he shot one warm glop of sperm after another into Wilmont’s willing mouth. Pulling back with a plop, he gasped, “Good job, boy. Not bad for your first... hmm...”

Wilmont stared at the still erect penis poking its read head at him, then up to Rodman’s face. He gingerly touched the Roadsman’s organ, then kissed it and stood up—breathing heavily from the effort he had made to please the big trucker. His head swam; his mind reeling, he felt that he had taken a step and now there was no turning back.

“Well, Wilmont, gotta get back on Schedule. So don’t dally. He tosed the youth the bag he had brought into the shower room, “Put these on.” Wilmont opened the bag to find a pair of dark blue shorts and a black tank top, with a pair of white socks and new tan workboots, like the ones Rodman wore. He looked around confused, “Na, boy, ya only wear what I give ya, so ya look like my righteous rideboy...” As he pulled on his bluejeans and black leather vest, “They’re my colors, so every Roadsman’ll know ya mine now. Got it.”

After they dressed the Rodman took Wilmont by the shoulder and marched him over to the mirror. They both stood looking into it. Wilmont saw these two dudes staring back at him. He knew the trucker, big, brawny, with muscles bulging under his vest, behind the taut cloth of his jeans, standing tall. The other figure was new and strange to him. With shaved head, shorts and top; colors and boots matching the bigger man. Who was this new person? The big man stepped behind the youth, wrapped his arms around him, and whispered huskily into his ear, “Yup, now ya mine, an I’ll train ya righteous. Ya gotta do whatever I say, whenever I say. The Rule for Rideboys is ‘Service, obedience an silence’. That’s Roadsway Rule Three. Got it. Ya understand?” The new rideboy gulped and snapped back, “Yup Rodman, sir!” “That’s it boy, real good...”

With that, the trucker reached down into his rideboy’s shorts, found the youth’s stiff penis and began to stroke it, pulling it from the shorts. He stroked quickly, pressing tightly against the youth from behind. Wilmont gave himself to his new mentor’s big hand and leaned back against his hard body. Very quickly he began to come, and the trucker deftly caught the youth’s sperm with his free hand, filling his palm. He stepped back, and with a smile, held his palm to his mouth and slurped. Then he held his glistening palm out to Wilmont and ordered, “Lick it clean!” He leaned forward and did so; then Rodman pulled him close and both embraced for a long moment. The trurker broke off, “Enough. Back to Schedule. Ya get our stuff. Let’s go!”

They were back out to the truck, where Rodman instructed Wilmont to put his old clothes into his knapsack. The trucker then put the knapsack into a storage bin under the truck’s cabin, “Ya won’t be needing these. Ya use what I give ya. Do what I want. Think what I tell ya. Got it?” Wilmont, still mesmerized and overwhelmed by the Roadsman, whispered back, “Uh, sure...” The Rodman reacted quickly, reaching and wacking him hard across the buttocks, “That’s not the answer boy! Do it righteous!” Wilmont gulped and responded, this time in a firm voice, “Yup sir, Rodman!” “That’s better boy. I like a quick and snappy rideboy who knows his place. An’ that place is right with me. Ya got it?” “Yup sir!” “Alright, let’s board an’ roll!” The rig was back on the highway and roaring into the night.

The Coast

The rest of the run took them across the mountains, speeding up long climbs and tearing down steep inclines. The Rodman had to concentrate on the road. His new ride boy understood this and sat quietly watching him; feeling dazed in his overpowering presence. They stopped twice for fuel, and each time Wilmont hopped out of the cabin, into the chill high mountain night, to check the tires and brake lines. “They’re OK, sir!” he reported each time. The Rodman mostly drove without talking. But, late, as Wilmont was dozing again, he could hear the driver talking softly, almost to himself. He strained to hear as he dozed, “Got it...” It was nearly dawn when the started down the last mountain before the Coast.

“Got it. ..And wake up. We’ve got another hour, boy.” Rodman shock the roadboy, reached back and slid open the window between the cab and storage area behind. “There’s a hammock in there. Shuck ya boots an’ climb into it. Get some rest. After we drop off the trailer, we’re heading for a motel where Roadsmen hang between runs. Ya gonna meet my Bros. Want ya rested and well-behaved. Got it?” “Yup, Rodman, sir!” He quickly obeyed the trucker, left his boots, and climbed across the seat back. Rodman’s hand caught him as he wiggled through the opening, slapping loudly and pushing him through. “Good boy. Got ya.!” There the youth caught a hammock suspended in the dark above all sorts of stuff systematically packed in uniform boxes. He stretched out and was soon lulled asleep by the road vibrations and gentle swaying of the hammock.

The truck had stopped when Rodman woke him by climbing onto the hammock next to him. “Wake up, boy.” The big trucker shook him, lifted him to his feet, and he blinked awake. Rodman pulled off his vest, handing it to Wilmont, “Now take my boots off an’ put my gear neatly on the floor. There’s a delay an’ we can sleep awhile. When we get to the motel it’ll be party hardy an’ not much time for sleep!” Wilmont shook his head in assent, leaned down, untied and removed Rodman’s boots. He felt strongly that it was a great privilege to be allowed to be this intimate with this amazing stud, who had stopped for him on the highway and so changed everything... He leaned across the trucker, placed the man’s boots on the floor between two boxes, and placed the folded vest on top.

The Rodman stretched back, rolling over, “Now ya give me a rub down, boy. I’m sore from driving. Ride boys massage their drivers. Ya start with my back, an make sure ya do my feet good. This is called an RD&BJ, ‘cause when ya done rubbin’ ya can pull down my zipper and suck all ya want... yeah, I know ya want it again. So ya do a good job an ya can have Rodney to play with... Got it.” He closed his eyes as the youth started rubbing his strong back.

Wilmont remembered those afternoons when his wrestling coach would massage him and the other boys, after hard school workouts. He knew he wanted to do things with this trucker that he had not even dreamed back there. It seemed so long ago, before this man had taken him and changed him. What more would the Rodman want? Whatever, he would be ready for it. He told himself that he had no choices anymore, he belonged to the big Roadsman now.

He massaged the big man as hard as he could, putting all his weight into it. He worked down the broad back, concentrating on the low back, where the sitting soreness would be. Then onto the tight jeans, massaging his hard gluts through the cloth. And then kneeding down his strong legs, to his feet. These the youth worked carefully and long, until they were loose and relaxed. Then he whispered, “Please roll over...” With his help the sleepy trucker faced up.

Wilmont took a deep breath, marveling at the muscled torso stretched before him. He loved the way it moved, remembering how it appeared when the big Roadsman was wearing his open leather vest. He reached and stroked the well-formed pecs, the hard broad chest with their big, dark nipples. He worked slowly and firmly down the body, enjoying its warmth and aromas.

Again he massaged the hips and legs through the material of the Rodman’s jeans. Went down to his rugged feet, carefully massaging every part, every toe. He massaged back up the legs. Then he paused above the bulging crotch, reached the zipper and opened it, revealing a dark cave with wisps of dark hair protruding. A nearly stiff cock popped from the cave, pushing past the zipper, moisture begining to seep from the large slit in the hefty cockhead. The trucker mumbled, “Looks like Rodney’s happy to see ya... Say hello... Ya got it.”

The youth rushed forward and engulfed it, closing his eyes and deep breathing the unique aroma. His hand grasped the shaft and he began to suck the erection’s thick cockhead, as it rapidly thickened in his mouth. Wilmont concentrated on the trucker’s erection, sucking and tonguing, feeling it pulsing. He tasted the preliminary liquids, released as the Rodman became more and more excited by his new ride boy’s efforts. He smelled the musky mix of aromas. Soon he could feel the big man’s thigh muscles tighten, the cock bulge even more, with spurts of hot sperm erupting into his mouth. He swallowed and swallowed as more gushed out. The Rodman let out a deep groaning breath, arched up, pushing deeply into his throat; then, shuttering, relaxed, and was spent.

After a few moments, “Ya gettin’ better boy. Ya gonna practice lots an’ become a real expert cocksucker. Rideboys gotta learn service. Ya doin’ good... Now ya just suck there, quiet like, an’ I’m gonna get some shuteye. Got it.” Wilmont did as bidden, easily sucking on the semihard cock, reaching up and stroking the now relaxed big man’s chest. Soon he was sound asleep and gently snoring. Wilmont stretched out, laying against the trucker, head on a hard thigh, mouth against the now flaccid penis... and shortly he slept too.

There was a banging on the cab side, a voice, “Hey, wake up Rodman. Trailer’s empty, your rig’s free. Dispatch says be back here Monday, 6 AM!” The trucker grumbled, awaking, “Sure thing... Thanks. I’ll move the rig in a minute...” He shook Wilmont awake, “OK boy. We’ve got four days off. Get my gear!” The youth nodded awake, stumbled off the hammock and found the trucker’s vest, socks and boots. He helped the Rodman into his clothes, carefully stuffing the now flaccid Rodney back into his jeans; putting on the socks and then boots, carefully lacing and tying them.

The trucker clambered forward and into the driver’s seat, calling back, “Gear up an’ come forward.” Wilmont pulled on his shorts and top, climbed into the cab, pulled on his boots, as the truck started to move. It looked like afternoon outside, but he had lost track of time. Rodman spoke, “Ten minutes we’ll be at a trucker motel. My Bros hang there. Now, boy, ya gonna be on

ya best behavior. There’ll be Roadsmen and rideboys there. We’ll party hardy. Bros share when we party. So ya do whatever any Roadsman tells ya. Ya keep quiet and move quick. Got it?” “Yup, Rodman.” “Now some of the Bros, when they see a new rideboy, like to have some fun with him. Ya know, havin’ ya do stuff, knockin’ ya around, servicin’ them... Ya just say ‘yup sir’ and do what the righteous Bros want. That’ll make me proud. When ya not doing nothing, ya stand at attention, with hands clasped behind ya back, braced. Ya got it? Ya be snappy!” “Yup, sir!” “I’m gonna show ya off, let ‘em see ya know Roadsway an’ the Rules. I want ya to be quick an’ eager... An’ keep quiet! Ya remember the SOS Rule, ‘Service, Obedience and Silence’! Got it.”

The rig rolled into a seedy motel, and around back, where there were a half dozen like it parked in a field. Wilmont followed the Rodman to the back corner of the motel, where they stopped while the trucker knocked on a door, double knocks, three times.

The door opened a crack and a voice boomed out, “Yo! It’s the Rodamn! Come in Bro!” They stepped from the afternoon sun into a darkish room. The room smelled of beer. The TV was the only source of light. The door shut and his eyes began to adjust. There was this big guy, with long red hair and beard, hugging Rodman. His big trucker looked small by comparison. The Rodman twisted, pointed back, “Big Red, this is my new rideboy. Boy, say hello to the baddest trucker of them all...” Big Red stepped to the youth, grabbed him in a bear hug against his bare, massive chest. Wilmont could just see some other men in the room, most shirtless. Some other younger men, mostly naked. One was kneeling between the black chino clad legs of a big bald guy, who had a fancy Dragon tatoo on his chest and mirror shades. When the youth was released,

Rodman ordered, “OK boy, look snappy.” He shucked his vest handing it toward Wilmont; pointed to a wall where some boots were lined up; some with clothes folded neatly on them. “Strip an’ put our gear there.” The youth took the vest, kicked off his boots and stripped, facing away from the others; put his boots and gear down, folded the Rodman’s vest and placed it on top. He turned back to the trucker and braced, “Good. Ya got it. Now squat an’ take off my boots too.” Wilmont did so, placing the Rodman’s boots next to his. It felt good, servicing the big trucker anyway he wanted.

Rodman nodded for him to follow. Now he could look around, as they walked to the middle of the room. It was clear who were the Roadsmen, and who, the rideboys. For one thing, none of the boys were on seats or couches. And all were naked like him, except for the muscular youth between the legs of the Dragon man; he had a thin jock band around his waist, but his buttocks were as bare as the rest of the rideboys’.

When they reached the center, someone clicked the mute on the TV, and all looked to Rodman and his charge. He grabbed Wilmont and pulled him close, so the youth’s buttocks pressed against his crotch. The trucker reached to the rideboy’s penis, grabbed it, and it popped erect. The rideboy tensed; the Roadsman grasped firmer.

“Now this is my new rideboy. Boy, these are some of my Bros. Roadsmen like me. An’ their rideboys. Rideboys, ya say, ‘Hi Bud!’ now!” The rideboys—except the one occupied between the Dragon man’s legs—snapped back, in ragged unison, “Hi Bud!”

“Good, boys! Bros, now I’m just breaking this boy in. But he’s real eager, so I’m gonna train him some more right here. Anybody got some butt grease?” One of the big men on the couch—a guy with bronzed skin, a brown buzz cut and brown trowsers—nodded and nudged the rideboy sitting on the floor between his legs. The boy, who looked to be the youngest there, with short blond hair, blue eyes and freckles, scampered off, to an adjoining room. Wilmont could see there were some doubledecked bunks there. The boy came right back with a tube, handed it to the Rodman, and slipped back to his place between his Roadsman’s legs.

There was an old hassock near one easy chair. Rodman pulled it over as he pushed Wilmont down and across it. The trucker knelt behind the youth as he opened the tube, squirting a gob of whatever it was onto his fingers. Using one hand to hold the youth down, he inserted first one, then two greased fingers into the anus, twisting as his rideboy squirmed. Using his free hand again, he wacked the youth’s buttocks hard, leaving a bright red handmark. “Now ya stay

stilll. This gonna hurt a bit, but ya get used to it quick. The more ya relax, the easier it’ll be. Still now! Got it.” He repeated the wack, and the sound seemed to ehco in the silent room, as the Bros watched the training session with obvious interest.

The Rodman pulled down his zipper and guided his erection to where his other hand still massaged the youth loose. The cockhead pushed in as the fingers pulled out. With Wilmont gasping, the trucker pushed his erection fully into the rideboy with one hard thrust. Then he held the youth tightly to him, waiting while he caught his breath. “Good boy! Now ya’re a real rideboy for sure. I’m gonna start pumpin’... so breathe easy and relax... Rodney likes tight places...” With that, the Rodman started pumping his erection deep into the youth, and partly back out. Slowly at first, then faster, until, unable to hold back any more, he started pumping very fast and deep, groaning as he shot his full load into the rideboy pinned beneath him. They both stayed there together, panting, as someone turned the TV sound back on and Roadsmen and rideboys went back to what they had been doing, though Wilmont noticed that some of the rideboys had turned to their truckers, and were furiously sucking the Roadsmen’s cocks as a frenzy of sexual release filled the room with its pungent aroma. The man with the shades and Dragon tatoo had turned his rideboy around, exposing his enormous erection momentarily as he thrust deeply into the rideboy’s waiting rectum, the bland expression on his face never changing.

Wilmont’s eyes widened at the display of the Roadsmen being serviced by their rideboys. “It’s just the Bros gettin’ off a bit, gettin’ ready for party hardy t’nite. Things get real raunchy then... Let’s get some shuteye.” The Rodman pushed his rideboy to the bunk room where he pointed to an upper bunk and Wilmont climbed up. The trucker droped his jeans and climbed up too.

It was quiet and dark in the bunk room. Some of the other bunks were occupied and some gentle snorring could be heard. Wilmont looked at his Roadsman with undisguised devotion. He whispered, “Sir, who are all those men?” The Rodman wrapped himself around his rideboy, so Wilmont could feel the big man’s flaccid penis against him. Rodman was close to his ear, talking softly, “Like I said, they’re my Bros. Righteous Roadsmen. Ya met Big Red. He’s like a leader among us. An’ ya noticed Dragon—he hardly ever talks, trains rideboys to hand signals; he’s... sort of a Ninja road warrior—deadly in a fight. Ya’ll get to know ‘em all by their colors. Mine’s black over blue. Dragon’s black an’ silver. Big Red’s red over brown. Torker wears orange over tan. The Bro with the buzz haircut is known as Buzz. His color’s brown.

Each Roadsman has his own colors an’ his rideboy wears ‘em too. Rideboys take their handles from the rig boss they’re with, so the Bros will call ya Rodboy. Now ya rest up, ‘cause at party hardy rideboys gotta give service an’ show how they know the Rules. When we’re alone an’ you got a question, that’s ok. But, when we’re with my Bros an’ ya say anything, I’m gonna wack ya. Got it?” With one hand, he grabbed the youth’s buttocks and squeesed hard. “Yup, Rodman!”

“Good boy. Now we’re a real rig team.” Rod man began whispering, “Sleep now.” Wilmont—he guessed his handle was Rodboy now—was fast asleep when the others began to fill up the bunks. Then he was completely under, breathing in time with Rodman’s slow breaths.

It was dark, the quiet broken only by snorring when the Rodman woke him up and whispered, “Get up, ya’ll find my keys in my jeans. Take our boots out to the truck. In the back ya’ll find a box with Doc Marten’s in ‘em. They’re our dress boots. Ya wear the older pair; bring the new one’s to me.” The rideboy nodded and silently got up, felt for the keys and crept from the bunk room. The other room was empty, except for Dragon and his rideboy. The strange trucker was seated cross legged, the rideboy straddling, facing him. Wilmont thought they were probably doing it, but they were completely still with their eyes closed. Maybe they were doing some sort of Ninja thing. Rodboy knew he belonged to Rodman now, but this character really fascinated him. Well, maybe something would happen at the party. It sounded like Roadsmen shared their rideboys. He quickly pulled on his shorts and boots, took Rodman’s and went out to the rig. He found the box with the dress boots, changed, took the Roadsman’s shinny new ones, and returned to the room. Dragon and his rideboy hadn’t moved.

Back in the bunk room, Rodman had his jeans on, was laying down, waiting. He rose, motioned Rodboy to follow him to the bathroom. When he closed the door he spoke, “Lookin’ good, boy. One of ya jobs is to keep our dress boots clean and polished. Ya got other jobs too. Got it.” He looked the youth up and down. “Now I gotta piss, so ya can learn a new trick. Squat.” Rodboy squatted. He pulled down his zipper and out popped his heavy penis. “Ya gonna drink my piss. Nothing like a belly full of warm piss to make a rideboy happy...”

He pulled the youth’s head to his penis and began pissing as the thick cockhead entered the rideboy’s open mouth. “Now ya close ya mouth, drink it all... I don’t want a drop spilled.” He pissed and the rideboy gulped, feeling the warm liquid squirting down his throat. When he stopped, “Now ya give Rodney a good tongue cleanin’ so he’ll be ready for party hardy. He waited with hands on hips while the rideboy slurped and licked his now bulging erection. Pulling away, “That’s enough. Gonna save him for later...” Wimont stood and Rodman reached and patted his belly. “Bet that feels good.” He hugged the youth, firmly, then letting go, “Now ya piss in the toilet; the Bros are gettin’ up an’ll need to piss too.”

As they left the bunk room, the others were getting up, Buzz shouting, “Hey Rodman, call for half a dozen pizzas and some beer. Party time!” “Sho bro!” Wimont followed the Rodman to the phone. He picked it up, but then turned to the youth. “Rodboy, use ya shirt an’ polish my boots real good.” Rodboy pulled off his shirt, squatted down and began to buff the boots while

Rodman made the call. Dragon and his rideboy were still locked together in the middle of the floor, oblivious to the men and boys coming in to party.

Party Hardy

The TV was on a music station and Rodman had found a couch seat. He put Wilmont on the floor between his legs. The youth continued to work on his boot shining while the party started. All were dressed in their party best, each pair in like colors. Some of the Roadsmen were talking over the music; some, like Rodman, were just relaxing. Torkey and his rideboy were doing a funky grind dance in front of the TV when the food and beer arrived. Slices were passed around and Rodman was handed a quart bottle. He drank a swig and passed it down to Wilmont who did the same, passing it back up.

The smell of food seemed to rouse Dragon and his rideboy from their revery. Wilmont was sitting on the floor, just a few feet from them. Dragon opened his eyes, making a slight torso move; the rideboy reacted at once, snapping back and up, to attention, with his wrists clasped behind the small of his back, his naked buttocks quivering. Dragon’s massive erection had popped from the boy with a loud sound. Wilmont stared as the big man stood, a head and more above his rideboy, muscles tense, his erection bobbing from his flyfront. He made a quick motion and the rideboy squatted, furiously sucking and licking the Ninja’s sex clean. He turned, his cock still sticking out, and went to the food, with his rideboy following. Wilmont continued watching the big man moving smoothly and surely, like some jungle cat. Dragon’s rideboy moved with the same solid assurance; he followed his rig boss closely, seeming to have eyes only for the Ninja. Wilmont watched the two take their food and find a spot by a wall to sit cross-legged.

His reverie was abruptly ended by Rodman’s strong hand massaging his shoulders and upper back. He looked back up to the trucker who was silently chuckling at him. The man leaned down, whispering, “After ya party with me a while an’ show the Bros how eager ya are to service me, maybe Dragon an’ I’ll trade rideboys for some fun...” Rodboy blushed and the Rodman pulled him up to the couch, to the trucker’s lap, turning him around so the youth straddled him. “Now ya pull down my zipper an’ get ready for some fuckin...” Rodboy reached between them and undid the zipper, reaching further to find his Roadsman’s hardening cock. Once he had it out, he stroked it, feeling it harden in his hand. He leaned over and sucked on it briefly, wetting it, until his trucker pulled him off it. Then Rodman pulled the stretchy material of the youth’s shorts, giving him access to Rodboy’s waiting oriface. The youth pressed up against the Rodman’s chest, sliding down, impaling himself on the big trucker’s hardon. As the big man pulled him closer, he could feel the enormous erection push deeper. As he surrendered completely to the trucker, he knew he wanted to please the Roadsman more than anything.

The rideboy forgot everything except for his rig boss’s passion. He began to rotate and ride the big man’s Rodney, keeping time to the TV music. The first time he had Rodney in him he was scared, now though he was a little sore, it was no big deal. Like listening to the Roadman’s voice, he could concentrate on how the excite the Rodman. He knew he was beginning to understand what Service was; how to be part of a rig team. Now he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to be turned over to Dragon: that man’s erection was huge, even bigger than the enormous Rodney pulsing inside him. But he knew he would do whatever the Rodman wanted.

As he worked the Roadsman’s cock, he watched the big man’s face. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open a bit, as he began to breathe harder. Rodboy gazed at him. He now knew how love felt, and he stretched up, kissing the Roadsman on the mouth. The trucker wrapped his arms tighter around the rideboy, pulling them together, continuing the kiss, as they rocked closing and closer.

Abruptly the Rodman pushed up and forward, spilling them both from the couch to the floor, where Rodboy found himself on his back, legs wrapped around the Rodman’s waist, being impaled even deeper by the trucker’s hot erection. The big man had taken over and was pumping his rideboy, hard and fast, penetrating even deeper. He continued to pump quicker as he pounded his throbing erection deeply into the rideboy. He could feel the youth surrendering completely to his assault. The harder he rode, the more excited he became, until he could hold back no longer. His manhood exploded inside the rideboy, shooting thick hot globs of semen deep into the youth pinned beneath him. His uncontrolled spasms continued as every drop he had spurted. Then he collapsed, panting, his full weight onto the rideboy.

The two lay together on the floor, with the party continuing around them. Wilmont could notice that the other rig teams were not paying much attention to them. They were all eating, drinking, fooling around with their own rideboys. All, except Dragon, who was still sitting cross-legged next to his closed-eyes rideboy, watching the Rodman and his exertions.

The Rodman stood up, his erection still thrusting from his jeans. Rodboy rolled to his knees, grabbing the glistening cockhead with his mouth, sucking out the bit of semen that remained, licking and sucking the whole cock clean. He gently pushed it back into the fly, zipping it up, staring at the bulge it made. Then he stood, braced, looking up into the Rodman’s steady gaze, waiting.

Rodman took him by the shoulder, turned him, and walked them both to where Dragon was sitting. There pressure on the shoulder brought them both to squat. “Yo, Dragon, want to give my boy some 69 practice. Can I borrow ya rideboy?” “Hai, Bro.” “OK, ya two, get down right here and get to it...” The Dragon’s boy responded at once. The two rideboys stretched out on the floor while Rodman sat next to Dragon.

Dragonboy’s naked body was sinewy, every muscle firm, as Wilmont pressed against him, nuzzling into his jock, finding his stiff erection with his mouth. Simultaneously the Ninja rideboy had Wilmont’s shorts down, engulfing his cock. They began thrusting and sucking in unison, timed to the blaring music. “Good form boys...” one of the Roadsmen called. Rodman leaned forward, then stepped, crouching over them, one booted leg on either side of the intertwined youths. With his two strong hands he probed the rideboys, finding each youths’ anus. He worked two fingers into each, using his hands to control their grinding and pumping. His arm and back muscles were bulging as he forced each rideboy to face fuck the other, faster and harder. He glanced back at Dragon who was watching the display with approval. His mastery of the rideboys was complete as they both submitted to his demands, finally both erupting into repeated orgasms together.

He released them so they could catch their breath, standing straddled over both. “Good boys! Ya did that righteous. Ya got it. Now ya give each other a good butthole tonguing, so ya’ll be clean and ready for us. Go to it!” The Dragonboy twisted himself around, spreading Wilmont’s legs, reaching his tongue as deep as he could. Wilmont, with a little squirming, found he could do likewise. The other rideboy’s hot tongue felt great; he hoped his felt as good. The party noises continued while he closed his eyes, just enjoying the closeness. He knew Dragonboy was a well trained rideboy, strong and obedient. He hoped he could be as good. He wanted to be ready for whatever the Rodman wanted.

After a while, Rodman’s boot toed between and separated them. Rodboy looked up at the strong rig boss, standing there in his Doc Marten’s, bulging jeans and black leather open vest. He knew he belonged completely to this rig boss. He now awaited the man’s next demand.

“Ya go with Dragon now. He’l teach ya some more tricks. Dragonboy, ya come with me. I gotta take a piss.” The Rodman strode off with the Dragon’s rideboy just behind him. Dragon stood and noded to Rodboy, “Follow!” The youth jumped up and quietly followed the Ninja trucker to the bunkroom, watching the movement of the big trucker’s muscular back and slim waist.

Once in the bunkroom, Dragon pulled a mattress off a bunk and dumped it on the floor. “Strip!” The rideboy quickly pushed off his boots, shorts and top. “Now you will learn ‘Service by the Numbers’. Down.”

“Position 1 is Squatting.” Dragon pushed Rodboy into position. The rideboy could hear the man’s zipper pulled down. He squated behind the youth, pulled him close with one muscled arm, using the other to guide his huge cockhead into the rideboy. “Breathe deep in then out.” As Rodboy complied, on the out-breath, Dragon thrust, fully entering. The youth grasped loudly and tried to squirm away. The trucker held him fast. “You will learn ‘Service by the Numbers’. Think only of learning to service your rig boss. Relax and accept. A rig team acts as one. Concentrate on breathing steadily.”

After a few moments Rodboy was able to accept the Dragon’s enormous erection, and it settled into him more deeply. The trucker Ninja maintained his posture, breathing steadily as the rideboy got used to the position. “Position 2 is Back and Over.” He quickly withdrew, with a popping sound, and pushed the rideboy around and into the new position. He pressed back into the youth’s orafice, plunging deeply again. This time the youth offered less resistance. After holding the posture for a few breaths, he withdrew again, and again ordered a new position. This continued for some time as Rodboy learned a half dozen positions.

Then the Dragon started ordering the different positions without first withdrawing his erection. This required Rodboy to twist around while remaining impaled. It was a bit awkward at first, and Dragon used a free hand to wallop the youth whenever he faltered. The rideboy thought it was almost like wrestling, back in school. By repeating positions and transitions over and over, though, the youth quickly learned to dance the postures around the Roadsman’s hard cock. The big trucker’s strong hands and body guided and controlled the youth’s movements, and after a while the two were moving in unison to the Ninja’s commands. Then the Dragon withdrew and stood, his muscles pumped and gleaming in the low light, “Brace!” The rideboy snapped up, stood before the Roadsman, breathing hard. “Enough training. Now we return to exhibit. Put back the mattress. Follow.”

The truckers were partying hardy when they returned. Buzz and his rideboy—the two looked nearly identical in brown boots, chinos and tees, with the same buzz cuts—were grinding to the music while the rest of the rideboys, now in various stages of undress, were servicing their rig bosses. Rodman had Dragonboy over the hassock and was furiously butt fucking him, while chugging a bottle of beer.

Everyone moved back from the TV to give Dragon space. He motioned to the naked rideboy. Even Rodman stopped to watch, still pressed deeply into the youth under him. Dragon stated a number and Rodboy went into position. The trucker thrust quickly and impaled the youth. Then they went from position to position at his commands, without disconnecting. Dragon started pumping his enormous cock longer and harder between position changes. The changes became smoother, like a flowing Ninja dance. Wilmont lost all awareness of the rest of the room as he concentrated on the Dragon’s demands.

This continued for perhaps a quarter hour, when, suddenly, the Dragon pulled back, withdrawing his erection with a now familiar plop. He stood, muscles even more pumped, the shine of sweat on his skin. Wilmont stared up at him. “Suck cock!” Rodboy knelt before the Ninja and began to suck the rock hard cock that he had been riding. The trucker came quickly, shooting a thick load of sperm that the rideboy swallowed gratefully. He remained licking and sucking the rig boss’s hardon until the man commanded, “Enough!” Then he stood to brace before the Roadsman. He could sense the eyes behind the mirror shades, considering him, evaluating him. Turning to Rodman, “This rideboy is trainable. He is eager and devoted. In a few weeks or months, when you have broken him in, we will trade rideboys a while and I will train him in the ways of the Ninja sex slave for you.” Rodman nodded, “Thanks, Bro. Any boy ya train is worth his weight in cum!”

Everybody laughed, and Rodman released Dragonboy, motioning Wilmont over to him. The Dragon took his rideboy aside too, ordering an intimate position in the corner of the room, where they were oblivious to everyone. The music volume went up and the Roadsmen returned to their party, with some of the rig teams dancing and others guzzling more beer. Rodboy stood before his rig boss. The big man pulled them together, hugging the youth. Nuzzling him, he whispered loudly over the music, “Ya did righteous. Ya make me proud!”

“But now, I gotta a load of beer piss in me, boy. Squat.” The rideboy sucked the big trucker’s cock and began gulping in his warm piss, breathing in the strong aromas that were coming from his thick pubic hair and testicles. He could feel the piss filling his belly. When the rig boss was done pissing, the youth remained with the still hard cock in his mouth, knowing that this was where he belonged. After a few moments though, Rodman pulled back, his thick cock-head gleaming and throbbing just in front of Rodboy’s face, “Stand up.” The trucker embraced his naked rideboy, then, loudly to the rest of the room, “Yo, Bros, let’s get these rideboys out here an’ let ‘em put on a Tough Boy Show for us—a little Happy Hour during Party Hardy!” Somebody passed him another beer for him to gulp. He swigged from it then passed it to Wilmont, saying,

“yo’re tough; show it. Ya got it? Finish this...” The rideboy took the beer and he swilled it down quickly.

The Roadsmen responded with laughter and some pushing and shoving, to get all the rideboys—except Dragonboy who was occupied by the Ninja—in the middle of the room. Torky and Buzz pushed them all into a pile, pulling off boots and whatever clothes were left on the ones that were not already naked.

Big Red shouted, “Now that’s what I like t’see, a heap o’ nude rideboys!” Torky called back, “Hey man, lend me ya big belt an’ we’ll see how tough these boys are!” Red pulled his big black leather belt off, tossed it to Torky. Meanwhile, Buzz hauled the rideboys into a rough line, face down, on the floor, heads and feet alternating. Torky stood over the boys, admiring their taut buttocks, taking aim with the belt, and walloping so he would catch several butts at the same time. He did this a half dozen times, to the cheers of the Roadsmen. A couple boys yelped loudly, including Rodboy. Buzz pulled them out of the way. Torky wacked harder a few more times, and though none of the remaining rideboys shouted, a couple squirmed and were pulled away. Only two were left, Buzzboy and Torkey’s rideboy. Buzz pulled them to their feet, facing them away from Torky. Then the big trucker started cracking the belt alternately across their buttocks while some the Roadsmen, laughing and guzzling more beer, began to count the blows. The two rideboys stood their ground, wincing, but not budging. After a half dozen wallops, though, Torkboy faltered, and Buzz raised his rideboy’s arm in victory, while the Roadsmen cheered. Torky tossed the belt back to Red, the Roadsmen went back to their partying, and Rodman turned to Rodboy.

“Ya gotta learn to take some knockin’ around. A rideboys gotta be tough if he’s gonna be on a rig team. Gonna get some air. Gear up an’ follow me.” Rodboy found his boots and clothes, quickly pulled them on and went outside where the Rodman was waiting. The motel was set back from the highway and backed up to some woods and hills. It must have been very late since the traffic was light. The air was cool and the area quiet compared to the blare of the motel party. The Roadsman and rideboy took a dirt trail up into the woods.

Part way up the hill Rodman stopped, “Gotta take another beer piss.” The youth automatically squatted, undid the trucker’s zipper and found the thick cock with his mouth. He eagerly sucked in the warm urine, wondering if his rig boss would always want this service, or was it just something for beer parties. When the trucker was done he carefully replaced the penis and pulled up the zipper. The two resumed their walk, up the hill, in silence.

Near the crest Rodman led them to an outcropping of rock. The two scrambled up the rocks, with the Roadsman and youth helping each other over the largest. At the top the trucker led Wilmont to a huge broken boulder, jutting out over the hillside. There was a crevice they could climb into. It was about chest high, and the rideboy could easily see over the valley beyond the hill, and through a notch in the hills beyond that. Lights were twinkling all across the valley and far hills. Beyond that, though, there was a line where the lights stopped, “Ya can see the ocean from here. We don’t have to get our load ‘til late tomorrow. We can go to the beach first. Ya like that?” “Sure, Rodman, sir!”

“Good boy. Now ya squat down an’ suck on Rodney for a while. Ya like that too.” The rideboy complied, quickly opening his rig boss’s zipper and finding Rodney. He worked his mouth into the trucker’s jeans; sucked the cockhead hard, drawing it and the stiffening shaft from the fly. Hooking his hands around the trucker’s belt, he settled close to the man’s crotch, allowing the growing hardon to push its way into his throat. Rodman waited patiently while the rideboy stifled his gag reflex, “That’s it boy. Just relax and let Rodney find his own way. He’s gonna face fuck ya. Breath easy through ya nose. Right. Good. Got it. Let Rodney do his thing... Ya becoming a righteous rideboy. That’s for sure. Ya gonna love the Road. Ya know ya belong to

me. But we both belong to the Road. So ya gonna abide by the Rules. When we go back to the party, I’m gonna offer ya butt to the Bros. It’s ya first party hardy so ya gotta gang bang for the Bros an’ their boys. Ya gonna be a real pro back there. The Bros gonna call ya ‘whore’ an’ such, an’ ya gonna smile and service anyone who wants to do ya. The trucker put a hand behind the youth’s head and began pumping into his throat. “Oh yeah, feeling good. Rideboys gotta be open, mouth an’ butt to righteous rods. Yeah!” The rig boss came again, squirting into Rodboy. Then he pulled back a bit, to allow the youth to breath, and he leaned back against the rock. “Ya just hang down there with Rodney. He wants some special attention.”

The rideboy undid the trucker’s belt and opened his jeans so he could lick, suck and kiss his rig boss’s stiff shaft and heavy testicles. The Rodman relaxed against the rock, eyes closing, while the youth continued to worship his manhod. The two remained together for some time, while the rideboy suckled and fondled the Roadsman.

“Ya gettin pretty good at this boy. But now its time to go back an’ see what the Bros want.” The rideboy immediately released Rodney, put the semihard cock back into his rig boss’s jeans and zipped and belted him. When he stood up the big trucker embraced him, and after a moment the two turned to descend.

A few minutes later they entered the motel room where the party had gotten quiet. Some of the Roadsmen had taken their rideboys into the bunkroom and the sound of the shower could be heard. Dragon and his rideboy were still in the front room, still together, eyes remainig closed. Wilmont admired their calm amid the raucous playing of the rest.

It looked like most of the Roadsmen and rideboys were in and around the shower. Wilmont could see naked men and boys, hear laughter, and watery sounds. Rodman turned to him, “We strip here an’ join the Bros. Ya can service ‘em there. Got it.” He tossed his vest onto a bunk. Rodboy bent down, untied his rg boss’s boots, undid his belt. He then stripped himself while the trucker shucked off his boots and jeans. Rodman smiled at the youth, “Let’s get wet an’

funky...”

The Rodman pushed his rideboy into the bathroom, among the naked bodies. Other hands propelled him forward, where most of the boys were in the shower, with Buzz and Torky, who were soaping them all together. Rodboy could see the other youths, noticed the red marks, and a few welts, on their buttocks from the Tough Boy game they played before. Most of the rideboys had some other bruises as well. His rig boss did not treat him that rough, but, whatever a Roadsman did with his rideboy was righteous. Buzzboy was particularly marked, but he seemed no less happy than the rest; he was grinning while Buzz worked a soapy fist between his legs.

Buzz released his rideboy and turned his attention to Rodboy. The wet trucker had powerful shoulders and arms, with lots of soapy water dripping down his hairy chest and into bush around his erection and testicles. Rodboy knew he would have to submit to whatever this trucker wanted. He heard Rodman call out, “Bros, my rideboy loves righteous dudes; wants to service ya all...” Buzz did not need any encouragement as he pulled the rideboy under the shower, probing a soapy hand between the youth’s legs. The trucker’s hand was hard and it roughly pushed deeply. Buzz used his other hand to force the rideboy down, probing his anus, forcing his submission. Rodboy gasped out loud as the big trucker’s huge erection pierced him with one long push. What, he wondered, must it be like to have this Roadsman have you every day. To belong to and service him like he wanted to service the Rodman. As Buzz pumped him harder, the trucker’s hands squeezing hard, he understood why Buzzboy was so bruised and knocked around. You had to be tough to service a Roadsman who was this vigorous. Then he could feel the man’s erection grow stiffer and thicker, and felt the spasms releasing into him.

The big trucker backed off, handing him to Torky, who released the youths he was soaping to take on Rodboy. He entered the youth quickly and easily, almost dancing him as he road him to orgasm. Torky was done. Another took his place. Then another. Each entering in turn and dominating the rideboy. Once he saw Rodman watching with approval. Then he was out of the shower with Big Red who hauled him over to a bunk, and took him sprawled across it sidewards. Wilmont had thought the trucker got his name from his red hair and big size. Now he saw the Roadsman’s huge erection with thick red cock-head and saw how he got his handle. This was the biggest manhood that had been forced into him. He could only take it by letting go completely and surrendering to the man’s demands, as his trucker wanted. Big Red, though, was fast and shortly he was left alone, on the bunk, listening to the splashing and laughter from the bathroom.

He had nearly dozed off when a wet and laughing Rodman pulled him up. The shower had emptied, but his trucker brought him back to it, and washed him, paying special attention to his raw butt. He leaned against his rig boss, enjoying the closeness, knowing that he had passed an important test and was a real rideboy now.

Breakfast

Everyone had slept late. Wilmont was awake, with his Roadsman sprawled asleep on top of him. The warmth and weight felt good. The bunkroom blinds were closed and the room was dark, but enough daylight came through for him to know it was warm and sunny outside. A thin beam of light came right across the bunk, highlighting the bulges and curves of Rodman’s back, gently rising and falling as he slept. The rideboy could feel his rig boss’s limp penis resting between them. He just wanted to stay were he was, feeling this contentment.

Eventually the big trucker stirred. He rolled over and stretched, “Man, I’m hungry. Ya drink my piss an’ we’ll find some food, go to the beach...” The rideboy leaned over the man’s strong chest, gently kissed the tight belly, and sucked in the limp manhood, gulping down his hot morning piss. After he finished, the cock rapidly grew hard. Rodboy started sucking and was quickly rewarded with a mouthful of thick semen. They dressed, with the rideboy lacing and tying his rig boss’s boots. “Give ‘em a quick polish with ya shirt, boy... Like my dress boots always shinny...”

On the way out of the motel rooms they paused to say goodbye to the remaining Roadsmen. The Dragon and his rideboy were gone. Torky and Buzz were trading rideboys. Rodboy watched while the two youths stripped off their gear, changing colors to change rig bosses. The new Buzzboy looked scared as Buzz cracked him hard across the buttocks, before he could pull his pants on. The other Roadsmen thought that was funny and were all gufawing and laughing. Rodman playfully wacked his rideboy on the butt too, “Buzz sure knows how to prime a rideboy... wack ‘em an’ fuck ‘em! Time with Buzz’ll toughen any rideboy. After Dragon, ya gonna do some time with Buzz too, but now ya mine. Got it. Right?” “Yup sir, anyway you want me...”

As they left the motel, the rideboy had the strong feeling that his new life was just beginning. He knew he would be together with the Rodman for a long time; would hang at Roadsman motels, party hardy with righteous dudes, be part of a rig team. He knew he would do time with other Roadsmen, because the truckers shared what they had, but that he would always be Rodman’s rideboy and belong to the big man in a special way.

They boarded the rig, drove a couple miles to a bar and grill where rigs and motorcycles occupied the parking lot. The neon sign blared “Zak’s” and the place was a jumble of a clappboard structure, with angles and portions in different directions. It was dark and smelled of booze and smoke from the grill inside. There were some TV’s hanging from the ceiling, blasting out rock and rap. The place was filled with a lunch crowd: workers in hard hats and grimy overalls; bikers in leather and chains: Wilmont stayed close to his rig boss. They walked around the bar and back to an alcove that had an old bead curtain obscuring it. “Here’s where the Roadsmen hang... It’s private and the chow’s good.” A couple of the rig teams from the motel were there, sitting half hidden in the dark booths—Roadsmen and rideboys alternating. Rodman climbed into a booth, pulling Rodboy after him. Big Red and his youth were there too. The waitress came and Rodman ordered soup, sandwiches and beer for them. She told him, “Your body-builder, biker friend Brawn was lookin’ for you, he’s ‘round back. I’ll let him know you’re here...”

The rideboy knew most everyone’s handle meant something, like Big Red or Buzz. Or Rodman, he knew what that meant. So the massive biker who swaggered over to them must be Brawn. He was so muscled and huge that he made the Rodman and Red look like weaklings. The biker had a ponytail bound at the base with a shinny steel ring. He wore a denim vest and grey sweats that could not hide his massive thighs and legs. His black biker boots had steel rings on them too, and a bright steel chain secured his wallet to his vest. Red spoke first, “Yo ude!”

Then Rodman, holding up his hand for a slap, added in, “Righteous Bro!” The biker responded, “Best Bros! How’s it hangin’?”

Brawn slipped into the booth next to Rodboy who had to squeeze between the Rodman and the body builder to make room. His rig boss turned to Brawn. “Hangin’ low an’ pokin’ high!” They laughed, and the Rodman, nodding to his rideboy, continued, “Boy, this is my Bro Brawn. Baddest an’ bestest biker. When he does ya, boy, ya’ll know ya been done righteous! Now ya get under the table and ya greet Brawn right. Now!”

Rodboy gulped, eyes wide, but jumped under the table, squeezing between the sturdy legs that nearly filled the space he was in, turned and found room between Brawn’s huge limbs. He pulled open the biker’s sweatpants, thinking, “Another stud without underwear. Guess they’re always ready...” But he stopped thinking as he smelled Brawn’s manhood, and he used his lips to bring out the lengthening shaft and massive cockhead that more than matched the rest of the giant body builder. The Rodman called down to him, “He’s called Burster an’ it’s a real honor to meet him. So ya treat him right!”

The rig boss went back to his discussion with Red and Brawn while Wilmont concentrated on meeting Burster. The biker’s cock was colossal; a post shaft, strong enough to dance on, and an immense, thick head. The rideboy began tentatively licking the foot long shaft, kissing and slurping the now red, throbbing head. He then began sucking it, drawing in as much as he could.

Shortly, the massive erection began to ooze some preliminary fluid, preparing itself for ejaculation. Then, as the juices started to gush into his mouth, Brawn pulled back, “Good technique darlin’ but food’s coming an’ I’m gonna put you through a real work-out, later. So yo can kiss Burster goodbye fo now, an’ put ‘em back home...” The rideboy sighed, still tasting Brawn’s sweet, intoxicating juices. He kissed the cockhead, gently sucking out the last few drops of precious fluid, and then he stuffed the still rigid manhood back into the body builder’s sweats.

Zak’s served an ample breakfast and soon they were finishing. Red and his rideboy left. Rodman turned to Brawn, “So ya know this rich guy with a place on the beach. An’ he’s throwin’ a party an’ needs some bouncers.” “Well, yeah, but the dude pays extra if we put on some... uh, private shows fo some of his special friends....” “What, exactly, does the dude expect?” Brawn laughed, “Nothin’ yo Roadsmen weren’t doin’ in the motel last night... We can pocket three grand fo weekend work, ‘specially with us taking turns with yo boy. An’ eat all yo want. An’ use th’ beach an’ pool....” “Sounds like a good deal to me. How do we get there?” “Yo leave yo rig here. One of the dudes’ll give us a lift.” “OK, let’s go!”

As the left the bar, they saw Dragon and his rideboy jogging along the road between the motel and the bar. Both were wearing black martial pants; both were bare chested and barefoot, with identical mirror shades, glinting in the early afternoon sun. Dragon and Brawn went off together. They spoke, Rodman joined them. The three returned to the two rideboys, who had been standing by the Rodman’s rig, silently waiting. Wilmont smiled and nodded to the other, but

he stood, arms crossed, gazing only at the Dragon. Wilmont was only mildly surprised when they all went off together.