The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

[In Chapter 1 we met Rodman, the big rig-driving Roadsman, his new rideboy, Wilmont and some of the Rodman’s righteous Bros.]

Beach

They were driven up the Coast, let off by a walled compound. Brawn used an intercom by the gate, “Mr. John, it’s me, Brawn, an’ I got other dudes—Roadsmen with their rideboys—with me...” “That sounds just fine, Brawn. I’ll open the gate and you can walk to the beachhouse. I’ll be there later, so enjoy yourselves. The party doesn’t start ‘til tonight. But, I’ll stop by to check you all out...”

The gate opened and they walked down a long drive. There was a big house on some high dunes. Brawn led them away from it, and to beachhouse close to the water. “This is where he has his company. Never been to the big house. This place is always stocked, so we can party!” The house was plush, and large. It had glass walls overlooking a pool and the ocean beyond. Brawn led them to the pool area. “Mr John’s got weights and stuff over here, by the dressing rooms an’ sauna. There’s a bar on the other side of the pool. So we can work out an’ have a private party! I live here most of the time now an’ Mr. John likes to come down and help me work out an’ stuff...”

The big biker started to strip, tossing his leather vest into an open dressing room, “Oh, yea, the boss man likes us hired help to be bare-assed, ‘least ‘til the guests arrive...” The Rodman nodded to his rideboy who immediately knelt to untie the trucker’s boots. The other two striped off their martial pants, leaving only identical white bare-ass briefs. Their gear was left in the dressing rooms, and they followed Brawn to the work out area. As they walked, the Roadsman playfully reached between his rideboy’s legs, handling the youth’s testicles as they moved. “Gonna teach ya a little trick boy. Brace.” The rideboy snapped to a halt, clasped his hands behind his back and stood rigid. “Good response boy! Berathe an’ relax.” The Rodman then slipped his thumb into the youth’s anus, still holding the testicles, “This’ called Hand Walkin’. Now ya walk where I lead... T’nite the johns’ll get off watchin’ me lead ya around like this... Ya doin’ good... Ya got it.”

They joined Brawn who was bench-pressing heavy weights. Dragon and his youth walked a bit beyond the rest and began a series of Ninja exercises that combined agility, speed and strength. At times the two were interlocked in various ways, in a dance of strike and defense. Wilmont continually looked over, to watch their agile movements. They all exercised for over an hour before Mr. John arrived.

The owner of the estate was a trim man in his forties or fifties; short light hair, wearing white tennis shorts, shirt, socks and sneakers. He smiled two perfect rows of teeth toward them. “Welcome to my beachouse. I’m very pleased to have you here. Brawn, you certainly did well in bringing these gentlemen for a visit. I appreciate your coming to act as bouncers at the party we’re having here this weekend.” He paused and smiled again. “I’m sure Brawn told you about the special entertainment I like to provide for special friends. We have an Arena here. I will take you there shortly. But now, please, all of you, line up here, so I can inspect you...”

Brawn walked over to Mr. Johns and stood facing him, arms clasped behind his back, motioning the others to follow. The two pairs went to either side of him. They all stood staring straight at their weekend employer, sweaty and pumped from exercising. Mr. Johns looked them over carefully, half smiling. “Excellent. Superb specimens. You may expect to earn, in tips, as much as Brawn’s arranged to have you paid... My guests will appreciate you. I understand none of you have any inhibitions about showing off your... stuff...” Rodman was the first to respond, “Roadsmen don’t embarrass, Boss Dude. I’m Rodman, an’ my rideboy’ll do anything I want, anytime, anywhere...”

He nodded, “Rodboy, I gotta piss.” The naked rideboy immediately turned to his rig boss, squatted, and sucked in the big trucker’s long, flaccid penis, ready to receive the man’s urine. Mr. Johns watched closely as the Roadsman emptied his bladder; watching the slight tremble in the rig driver’s muscled stomach. “Boss Dude, I like. You may all call me that. I also like the way you’ve trained your boy. Very good.”

He turned to the Dragon, “I recognize you from Brawn’s description of some of the Roadsmen he knew... I greet you, honored Dragon. Your skill is impressive. I watched you and your disciple training.” He smiled, “I assume you have a, uh, more sexual version of your kata?” The Dragon’s expressionless face remained so, “Hai! We are always prepared to demonstrate the deeper secrets for an audience that can appreciate them.” “Well spoken, sir. I have a black belt in Akaido, and other of my guests have also trained in various disciplines. They will appreciate. Now, let’s go. I need to show you the Arena.”

Boss Dude led the way. Brawn, Dragon and Dragonboy followed. Wilmont had not moved from his position grasping Rodney in his mouth. His rig boss pulled the now stiff and thick Rodney back, making an audible plopping sound. Mr. John turned, eyes arched, in time to watch the Roadsman’s huge Rodney bobbing toward them, while Wilmont was being handwalked, as he had been taught.

They were led to one corner of the beachouse’s expansive living room where Boss Dude touched a book on a shelf, and the whole section of shelving slid aside, revealing a passageway. “This leads to part of the house, built into the dunes.”

The passageway led down to a heavy oak door. Behind it was the Arena, a quiet, dark auditorium in tones of grey. It was without seats; just several circles of wide, plushly carpeted platforms (many large pillows among them) rising from what might have been a prize fighting rink, but without the ropes. It was distinguished from the rest of the room by additional lighting and a lighter grey coloring. “I use the Arena for martial arts and other displays. The lighting is arranged such that you cannot see the spectators while you are on the Field of Honor. Now take a few of those pillows down with you and let me see you warm up a bit...” The Boss Dude smiled, waved them down toward his Field of Honor.

The Field itself was a stretched canvas rink, with some bounce and give to it. He was right, you could not see any viewers on the risers from the rink. Mr. Johns called to them, “I am setting some sound and lighting, for the right mood. Tonight I will have beer and food here for you. You may start now.” With that, music began, softly at first, then building in time with the flickering colored lights that danced down onto the canvas.

The Dragon and his disciple went onto the canvas and began the kata Mr. John had watched before. Then, at a hand signal from the Ninja, he and his rideboy moved together; his erection easily entering the youth. They continued, working through the numbered positions Wilmont had learned under the Dragon’s strict tutelage. Wilmont watched the two moving from position to position, with the swirling lights playing across their intertwining bodies.

He continued to gaze at the colors painting the Ninja trucker and his rideboy, nearly transfixed, until his rig boss’s rough hand loudly walloped his bare backside. “Ya gonna work out some more with me an’ Brawn!” The rideboy turned and responded with an eager grin; he wanted his trucker to know he would do his best, especially since he knew it was worth a thousand to the Rodman.

Rodman and Brawn did not waste any time with the rideboy. Brawn scooped him up and hoisted him over a massive shoulder; half tossing, half dropping him onto the canvas. The Rodman hopped over the padded curbing that surrounded the rink, sauntered over to the rideboy and barked, “Suck!” The youth sprang over to his naked rig boss, knelt before him, and began to vigorously suck the trucker’s erection.

Brawn moved in right behind the rideboy. Raising the youth’s knees and spreading his legs, he pushed his muscled thighs between. First finding the cleft with his hand, he aimed his hefty erection directly, using his powerful legs to enter the youth in one swift thrust. The rideboy gasped and nearly bit his rig boss, who pulled back just in time. Brawn grabbed the youth tighter, firmly impaling him. “Hey Brawn ya shoulda warned me—nearly got Rodney shortened!” “Sorry Bro, the boy’s tighter than I thought he’d be... since he’s yours, an...” Brawn lost what he was going to say, as he began pumping harder into the gasping rideboy. The Rodman sat crossed legged, close to the two. He reached out to playfully cuff the youth on the chin, “Breathe easy boy. Let the dude’s righteous Burster do his thing. Ya get used to it, ‘cause tonite ya gonna put on a real show for the johns... Yea, ya got it. Ya know Bro, maybe ya oughta save some of that for later, so it’ll look like ya doin’ the kid for the first time. They’ll like that...” Brawn frowned, but pulled back fast, sending the rideboy sprawling onto the canvas. The truckers laughed, “OK, Bro. Let’s just swim an’ rest. An’ we can check out the kitchen. OK, Mr. Johns?”

“Sure. You boys just rest up and eat.” He walked over to them, stroked Brawn’s huge pecs, his still heaving chest, “I am certain you will really please my guests.” Rodman responded, “That we will. I gotta idea for a show we can put on for ‘em. Ya gotta barrel we can use? Big barrel?” “Uhm, well, yes—an empty wine barrel, three feet high. Will that do? I’ll have it put back stage.” “Yes sir, Boss Dude; that sounds good. We’ll have a surprise for ya all. What time do we start?” “I’ll have everyone here at ten. Let me show you back stage.” Rodman nodded to Mr. Johns, called to the others, “I’ll meet ya in the kitchen.”

When the Rodman caught up with the rest, they had already prepared sandwiches and opened beers, bringing them to a bright sitting area by the kitchen. His rideboy brought a plate and bottle to him. The naked trucker sat back on a couch, motioning to Rodboy, “Yup, there’s nothin’ like havin’ and eager rideboy lookin’ out for ya needs...” The two sat together and ate in silence. The trucker moved as he reached for his second beer, leaving one of his big legs across the youth’s lap. Rodboy started to massage his rig boss’s hard thigh, stroking toward a semihard Rodney, “Ya can say ‘hi’ to Rodney if ya want, but ya finish ya sandwich too. Gotta eat to keep up ya strength for tonite...” “Uh, yup sir” was the rideboy’s response, as he began to stroke and fondle the trucker’s cock and hefty balls with one hand, eat with the other.

After they ate, they wandered back to the pool. Rodman and Brawn found lounges and napped. Wilmont sat with his feet in the water, watching the Dragon and his rideboy on the other side, exercising. After a while he heard the Dragon order, “Swim for a half hour, then get some rest.” The Ninja trucker sat cross-legged where he was; closed his eyes. His disciple turned to the pool and dove in. Wilmont slid into the pool too, and the both swam quietly for the half hour. Then he approached the other, “Hey Bud, wanna relax in the hot tub?” The Ninja youth shrugged and nodded. They both climbed from the pool and into the adjacent jacuzzi. The water was hot and inviting. Wilmont had noticed that rideboys did not speak much, to their Roadsmen or each other. The couple times he heard the other young men, they had called each other “Bud” So the Roadsmen were Bros and their rideboys, Buds.

First they sat on opposite sides, luxuriating in the warm bubbles. Wilmont went over to the other, “so, Bud, my Rodman says in a few months he might trade me to your Dragon for a while. You were with his Rodney back at the motel. Would you like to spend a few weeks with him? I’d miss my rig boss and sure miss Rodney, but would like to learn what your Dragon has to teach... How long’ve you been with him?” “Three years, Bud.” “What’s it like?” “Intense.” “How’d you get with him?” “Roadsman named Blade Man found me on the Road. Broke me in, like Rodman’s doing with you. ‘Bout three months after he had me, he got killed in a bar fight. Some biker dude told me to shine his boots without asking Blade Man first. Knocked the guy down. Thought it was over, so he turned away. He got a knife in the back. Dragon was his best Bro. He was there. I saw the Dragon kill that dude with one blow. I’ve followed him since then.” Wilmont did not know what to say. He moved next to Dragonboy, put an arm around his shoulder. They both sat in the hot tub, quietly, just dozing off where they were.

Later Rodboy woke as his rig boss slipped into the tub, between the two youths. He put a brawny arm around each, nuzzling them to him. “Life’s sweet when ya gotta couple o’well-trained rideboys t’ service ya... Good that ya two are getting to be real Buds. Tonite ya both gonna do ya best, but, ya, Rodboy, ya gonna act like it’s ya first time. Ya’ll start in th’ barrel, like we kidnapped ya, an’ Brawn an I’ll do ya an’ knock ya around, like we’re trainin’ ya. Understand?” The rideboy nodded, nuzzled closer to his trucker.

Arena

Rodman watched the Arena from behind the stage. Dragon and his disciple were exhibiting their explicit kata. The audience was mostly quiet, mesmerized by the display. They would gasp collectively on occasion, as the two Ninjas smoothly moved from one position to another, with animal grace, always ending linked together; the warrior’s rigid manhood thrust into his youth’s mouth or anus.

Rodboy was crouching in the wine barrel, waiting to be rolled onto the stage. He could see out one of the breathing holes his trucker had drilled into the barrel, could watch how Dragonboy moved. He knew he loved his Roadsman completely, but he imaged what it would be like to submit to the Ninja’s strict training. He longed for the disciple’s peace of mind. Then the display was over and the audience was loudly applauding.

Brawn sauntered out next, in a pair of bright surfer jams. He stood and posed, flexing his muscular body, twisting and tensing, like he did at body-builder exhibitions. Then he dropped his shorts, deftly kicking them into the darkness of the audience. All he wore now was a skimpy posing strap, barely covering his thick penis and heavy testicles. It was so white, it seemed, to Rodboy, watching through the barrel hole, that it glowed against the deep bronze of the body-builder’s taute bulges. He continued posing, smiling at the “oo’s” and “ah’s” from the audience.

After a few minutes, though, Rodman tipped and rolled the barrel onto the stage, righted it and sat on it, watching Brawn.

He was wearing his usual gear: bare-chested black leather vest, jeans, workboots. The big trucker flexed his muscles a bit while watching the body-builder’s exhibit, comically aping some of his moves. Then, hitching one boot up on a barrel hoop, he pulled down his zipper and pulled out his shaft, stroking it to hardness for all to see. Brawn pretended to notice Rodman for the first time. He tensed his muscles and slowly strode over to the trucker, big hands on his massive hips, “Hey, man, ya like watchin’ me workout?” The response was a slow nod. “Well, maybe we can do it together...” The trucker shrugged, “Yeah man, I got somethin’ we can do together. Got it in this barrel. Wanta see?” “Sure man.” “Well, I just picked this up on the road a couple days ago, teachin’ it some manners. You gonna help?” “Sure man.”

With that, Rodman stood, his erection bobbing from his flyfront, and popped off the barrel top. He tipped over the barrel and his roadboy, naked with hands bound behind him, tumbled out. Looking up at the two big men standing above him, it was easy for him to imagine being scared and submissive. He slowly stood between the two.

Rodman smacked him across the buttocks, loudly. Talking to Brawn, he spoke loudly, “Now th’ first thing ya teach it is to stand still and keep quiet.” Snapping his head toward the boy, he barked, “Brace!” The youth’s lithe body stiffened and his erection popped hard. “Ya see, it already knows how t’ salute!” He walked behind the boy and reached his massive arms around his torso, dropping one hand to the youth’s erection, stroking it a bit, then fondling the testicles. He released the youth’s bound arms and stepped back.

“Now squat!” The rideboy immediately complied. “Good, suck on this.” He leaned forward, slurping the big trucker’s erection into his mouth. Turning his head toward Brawn, “He’s only got one hole occupied, so ya can do th’ other if ya want...” The body builder nodded, swaggered around the two, cupped his hands around the youth’s buttocks and pulled his tail up, spreading and exposing the anus. He moved between the rideboy’s legs, pushing his tongue into the cleft, probing and wetting the tight opening for a long, slow minute. Then, pulling back and turning to the unseen audience, he stroked his erection until glistening drops of precum formed.

He turned back, pushed closer to the youth, inserting his manhood, thrusting fully in with one strong pulse, then pumping swiftly deeper and deeper. The rideboy withstood the assault, continuing to suck his trucker.

This went on for several minutes until the Rodman asked, “Ya wanta trade places?” and Brawn responded, “Sure, man...” They both pulled back from the rideboy, the body builder’s enormous erection making an audible “Plop!” as it was withdrawn. The rideboy went sprawling on the ground, to the guffaws of the two, and nervous laughter from the audience.

The big trucker quickly scooped up the youth, turned him toward Brawn’s enormous erection, pushing his face into it, while his Rodney swiftly entered the rideboy from behind. Having reversed positions, they went at it for a while, until Brawn began to come in Wilmont’s mouth. Rodman pulled back, but not out, so the youth could concentrate on draining the body builder, who thrust spasm after spasm into him. Brawn lay back, panting while the rideboy continued sucking until the trucker pulled him back, “Whoa boy, I know how eager ya’re for cock, but ya sucked it dry already!” Then turning to the body builder, but talking to the audience, “I taught him some special positions. Ya wanta watch?” “Sure man, let’s see what he can do...”

“Boy, squat! Tail up!” The roadboy got back into the position he had just been in. The trucker quickly entered him from behind, as he had done before. “Hey man, he already did that trick!” “Uh huh, just starting with som’thin’ familiar...” Rodman started pumping hard and fast. “Now ya grip it!” He began pulling nearly all the way out, relying on the youth’s grip, so as not to pop out entirely. Then he thrust in as deep as he could, pulling back again, while his rideboy’s sphincter gripped his huge manhood. Rodman pumped hard and deep for a minute or two, then he ordered, “Down an’ out!” and Rodboy stretched out, spread eagle, on his stomach, with his tail still up, buttocks tightly gripping the trucker’s stiff cock. “Rotate!” and the youth began to gyrate, working the big man’s erection.

This continued a while, until Rodman barked, “Back and over!” Rodboy released the trucker’s erection, rolled over onto his back and pulled his legs up, exposing himself fully to the big man’s assault. Rodman wasted no time, kneeling forward, once again pushing his rigid manhood into the youth. In this position, penetration was even deeper and the rideboy let out an audible gasp as the big trucker arched deeply into him.

Rodman gripped his rideboy with his two powerful arms, pulling them closer together, as he continued to pump harder and quicker. He let go just long enough to shuck his vest, revealing the strong musculature of his massive back; the sweat beginning to glisten across that mighty back. As he continued pumping, the audience began to clap in unison, in time to his moves. The big trucker’s eyes glazed over as he gave himself completely to his rideboy. His body flushed as his breathing grew harder; all the while he continued the relentless pumping of his manhood into the youth who had surrendered entirely to the man’s onslaught. The trucker no longer cared about the clapping, or the show he was being paid for. He was only aware of his erection planted deeply into his rideboy. He wanted to pump so hard and fast that the two of them would merge, as one, forever. Then, arching more, his buttocks clenching under the tight denim of his jeans, he came, and came, and came. It seemed as though is hard cock drained for minutes, until he was totally spent. He fell forward, onto the rideboy, and collapsed panting.

Brawn moved over to the two, kneeling on one knee, he put one big hand firmly onto the small of Rodman’s back, reached the other between the trucker’s muscular legs, first finding his testicles, then his stiff shaft where it entered the rideboy, “Hey man, ya’re still stuck in there, hard an’ throbbin’—all ya need is a little help...” The body builder pushed their four legs apart, so the audience could see where he was reaching, and turning to them, said, “Man, this righteous dude’s always hard an’ ready...” With his free hand he began to massage the big trucker’s strong back while stroking the thick end of the shaft with the other. The rideboy squirmed under the weight, “That’s right boy, ya work under, I’ll work on top, an’ our buddy here’ll be real pleased.”

The Rodman was too wiped to resist Brawn’s strong hands, and so he allowed his roadboy and the body builder to continue for some time until he was again on the verge of orgasm. “Yo man! Ya two make a great team... ya do me righteous...” Then he closed his eyes, arched deeper into the rideboy, coming again, shuddering as he drained completely. This time, he collapsed again, and would not move, though Brawn continued his double massage. Finally the body builder felt the big trucker’s erection softening, so he let go of it, but continued to massage Rodman’s hard back.

After the big man’s breathing had calmed, the Brawn reached his arms about the limp trucker, pulling him up and off his roadboy. Rodman’s eyes were closed, a satisfied half smile on his face. His nearly limp manhood was still dangling from his flyfront. Brawn nodded toward the rideboy, “Suck it clean...” Wilmont half smailed and leaned over Rodney, sucking its warmth into his mouth, while the two cradled the Rodman in their arms. The arena was hushed.

Mr. Johns climbed up onto the Arena, speaking loudly, “Now that is what I call a spent stud. These lads deserve a round of applause for this excellent entertainment!” He motioned to them all, and from the darkness of the audience came a round of vigorous applause.

The lights came up a bit and the Ninja exhibitors returned to the stage for their share of the applause, which quickened and became louder as they reprised their kata, moving as one again.

The lights came all the way up, and Mr. Johns motioned to the guests and then the men, “Well friends, these hearty youths and brawny studs will be here the rest of the night, and I hope you will all have a chance to inspect them closely. There are drinks and desserts in the play room, through there, so let us continue!” He pointed to a door at the far end of the Arena, and walked next to Rodman, who was standing again, putting an arm around the big trucker’s taut waist, another on the shoulder of his rideboy, leading them away.

The play room was lit in the center where a large table held drinks and food, but the sides of the room were dark, and formed into private alcoves and nooks. After stopping long enough to pick up some beers and pretzels, he led them to one of these. It had a large couch, on which the three sat together. The music was loud enough to make conversation unecessary. Mr. Johns turned toward Wilmont and began fondling him while the trucker turned to the beer. After the Rodman finished the bottle, he nodded to his rideboy, mouthing the letters, “RD/BJ.”

The rideboy nodded, acting automatically, as he had been trained, reaching first to his Roadsman’s boots, removing them, then unzipping his jeans, pulling them off to fully expose the big man’s muscled thighs and legs. Wilmont saw Mr. John’s eyes widen as he surveyed the trucker spread naked before him. The rideboy began rubbing the massive chest, moving aside so their host could massage the Roadsman’s legs and feet. Rodman relaxed to their hands, his thick, soft penis stiffening a bit as they worked on him. The youth noticed and began massaging his thighs, closer to Rodney. Mr. Johns’ mouth went to the cockhead first though, lips first touching it tentatively, then sucking in the whole thickness of it. The rideboy leaned down and began licking the base of the shaft, sucking on the trucker’s testicles.

After some time, their host moved back, letting the Rodboy take on the trucker’s now stiff penis. He quickly pulled off his clothes, so he was naked, like the Roadsman and his rideboy. Wilmont noticed that Mr. Johns was well-built, sporting a long, hard erection. He moved around the rideboy, grasped his buttocks and quickly entered the youth. Leaning close to the Rodman, he spoke into his ear. The big trucker rolled over and moved around the two. Once behind their host, he spat on the middle finger of his right hand, inserting it. Using his finger as a guide, he moved his cockhead against the anus, letting the man push himself onto it. He began to pump, timing himself to Mr. Johns’ humping of the rideboy beneath them both. Wilmont twisted his head around, to see their host’s ecstatic face. He turned to concentrate on the task of bearing both man, but was surprised to feel his Roadsman coming first, quickly followed by Mr. Johns, pushing his load deep into the rideboy. The full weight of the two was on him, as they relaxed against him. Rodboy twisted himself around so he could face them, reaching his arms around both, as best he could. Their host’s eyes were closed, as he luxuriated, pinned between the Roadsman and rideboy. The Rodman, still planted firmly in him, spoke into his rideboy’s ear, “I’ll occupy our host, ya go out an’ entertain th’ guests. They’ll off’r ya money. Make sure ya bring it back t’me.” The rideboy responded with a “Yup Sir!” and squirmed his way out.

Wilmont’s memory of the rest of the night was pretty confused, what with the booze and pills he was given. He was handed around among the guests and did whatever they wanted. A few times he noticed the Rodman and Mr. Johns and saw that his trucker was fully occupying their host. He did not want Rodney near anyone else, but knew that rideboys serviced whomever their truckers told them to and that Rodney went wherever the big trucker decided. Finally the Rodman found him dozing among a pile of spent guests, scooped him up and carried him back to the alcove where they were alone, “Ya get some shuteye ‘cause we’re truckin’ tomorrow.” He gave a tired nod and snuggled against his trucker, falling fast asleep.

Back on the Road

Wilmont was sore and mostly in a daze the nest morning, eating the egg sandwich the Rodman gave him, dozing off in the car as they were taken back to the motel. Then they were in the Rodman’s rig, and he was awake enough to start yupsiring his trucker, getting the rig ready for the next haul. By mid-day they had picked up a loaded trailer and were on the road again.

This was where he wanted to be; in the Rodman’s rig, roaring cross-country. He would just gaze contentedly at the rig-boss’s strong arms as they maneuvered the truck; at the way his shoulders and neck moved; at the strong profile of his face, his nose, lips and chin. Listened carefully to everything the trucker said, as he said, “...to the sound of my voice...” He sat quietly, watching the big trucker driving, getting him water or whatever else he wanted, checking the tires and brake lines. He felt that it was a special privilege that he was allowed to be with the Rodman. Even when the trucker had to piss and had him suck it down while they rode, Rodboy felt privileged to service his trucker.

They road for four days straight, just catching a little sleep in truck stops along the way. When they’d climb into the hammock behind the cab, he followed the routine Rodman wanted: strip himself and his rig-boss, massage the trucker’s back and legs, suck his cock, and sleep next to him. When the Rodman would wake up, he would roll on top of his rideboy, enter him with a firm push, and give him what he craved the most, Rodney so hard and deep that he felt he was merging with the trucker, become as much a part of his trucker as the big man’s boots or vest.

He loved going into truck stops with the Rodman, wearing his colors, knowing that any righteous dudes there would know to whom he belonged. He felt so proud when the rig-boss would place a big hand on his shoulder, get them each beers. Sometimes his trucker would watch him dance to the juke-box, sometimes they would take a little time and shoot a game of pool. They met a few other Roadsmen in such places. Bros who Rodman knew, or others who he would decide were righteous from the way they acted, especially if they had rideboys with their colors with them. He met a couple other Buds that way, watching how they showed their devotion to their Roadsmen. Some of them seemed really happy, others, like Tokay’s rideboy, looked afraid of their rig-bosses, like they had been knocked around too much. He was grateful that the Rodman hardly ever hit him, just playful cracks across his butt; he did not ever want to be scared of being close to his trucker.

Their time of the road was good, but between loads, when they could hole-up for a day or two, was what the rideboy looked forward to the most. He would clean their gear, make sure the rig-boss’s dress boots were shined, polish the cab until it gleamed. Then they would stay in bed all night, working Rodney and pleasuring each other until they would fall asleep wrapped around each other, the big trucker’s stiff manhood parked in his rideboy. He felt so privileged that the Rodman had started 69ing with him when they were alone together, Rodney in his willing mouth; his stiff cock, which is trucker had begun calling “Will-do,” engulfed by the big man’s mouth, both of them pressed against each other.

After a few weeks, the Rodman told him they were going to meet up with his bros, to party-hearty at that same motel in California, where they would give Will-do a real workout. Rodboy wanted to please his Roadsman, so he grinned and snapped a “Yup sir!” knowing, though, that he would rather be alone with his rig-boss, focused on him alone, on the sound of his voice, his smell, his warmth. But, if Rodman wanted to show him off, show his bros how the rideboy was being trained, he would do whatever the big trucker wanted. Besides, the Dragon and his boy might be there too.

So they unhitched the trailer and road the rig over to the motel, around the back, were the other rigs were parked. Dragon’s rig was there, and dragonboy, his bare chest and shoulder muscles gleaming above his blue martial arts pants, was crouched by the front bumper, shining it. The Rodman saw his rideboy looking, “Ya got it, boy. Ya can go there an’ help your Bud. Maybe later we’ll let ya two rassle. Yea, I’d like to see that.”