The Dentist Ch. 02

He'd began to express to me his hankering to get out of the trucking business and get a place of his own. He grown weary and drained by the lifestyle. Eating crap food at convenience stores and travel centers, going to bed and waking up in the same space he worked, not owning anything that he could truly call his own. He wanted a place to fill with stuff. Furniture; a TV or two; clothing; a real bed.

I totally understood his craving to make a single spot he could call home. I don't believe I could have led his lifestyle, living on the road twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Although the life I was leading wasn't much to be spoken of, either. A nowhere job in a nowhere town, still at home with Mom and Dad.

I'd made some headway on that front. I was tucking away most of the money I made at the restaurant. My folks weren't charging me rent. They had each expressed their wish for me to save and decide what I was going to do. Get some more education or get a place of my own. They'd given me a deadline of one year after finishing high school to work and bank some cash for my near future. "You need to decide what ya wanna do," Dad had said. "If you get into a community college, your Momma and Me will let ya stay at home rent free. If you wanna skip that, you need to get yourself a place to live."

I wasn't interested in any more education at that point. I enjoyed the freedom from scheduling, studying and living under the grip of some teacher or professor. There was also the truck-stop thingy and being able to do that. I could sleep in until my next work shift, spend time with friends and feed my libido.

In his travels, Hank had been able to ascertain the qualities of a location where he'd like to set his feet down. He'd expressed to me that he thought Los Angeles would be perfect. Always something going on, places to go, and endless things to do. You could visit the beach in the morning and enjoy the sunshine, and in the very same day, head up to Big Bear and take a hike or go snowboarding.

It sounded awesome.

Hank and myself had discussed that we could perhaps become roommates and rent an apartment together somewhere in the big city. He still had some of the insurance money from his parents and I had saved a little from my work here in Hinton.

That was it.

We both decided we'd try and make a go of it.

We knew each other for the people we really were. That alone was perfect. I wouldn't have to hide my passionate side, like I did here at home, and he could step out and get his pecker sucked whenever he wanted. Hell, we could even do the deed at our place if we wanted to.

Mom and Dad were a bit taken back when I told them I was gonna run off to L.A. They knew about Hank and believed he was a trucker that had helped me push my car up to the gas pumps, one time, when I'd let it run dry. They believed he was just a bud I'd meet up with at the travel center now and then.

That we had hit-it-off after him helping me out with my car that one time and me buying him some supper as a show of gratitude.

They were worried about me moving so far away. Visits would be far between and I didn't even have a job to go to.

I quelled their fears by telling them that I'd come home for visits often and that I was bound to find some quick work with the experience I'd gotten from the restaurant here.

The move into the big city happened for me and Hank. We ended up renting a small apartment in Alhambra. It was a one bedroom and we took turns between the bedroom and couch. Rent was insane here, nearly fifteen hundred bucks for just our small place.

We both found work relatively quick, myself cooking in a restaurant and Hank making deliveries for an office supply.

It was tight, but okay. I was out of the house and Hank was out of the long-haul business. With work and the mundane, we didn't get to fuck around with each other as much as we would have liked to. We found time, however. I'd suck, he'd unload about once a week.

There had even been a time when Hank had had a few and he ended up beating me off to completion, as he had said he would never do. He crunched my nuts, fingered my pink bung hole and got carried away stroking on my writhing and twitching bod before he realized he had spunk dripping onto his hand. The dumb-ass confused look on his face as he looked down at the mess was fucking hilarious. He looked, I looked, and we both laughed until our stomachs ached and tears welled.

I ventured out a few times to find a spot where I could hook-up with dudes and get fed. I found several, but some were in rough areas and others didn't have dark video rooms suited for sucking. The truck-stops were super busy places and you couldn't find two or three minutes alone with anyone in a stall, much less enough time to do the deed.

So, I've taken a 45 minute drive to get here at one of my favorite sleazy-type sex shops near the downtown area. When I finish up work, the day before my day-off, I like to stop by and get my need-for-seed fulfilled.

This particular place is littered with a few small stalls designed to accommodate a gentleman's need for porn and a place to slap the monkey. No DVDs for curious eyes to see, no porn sites to track, no reasons to explain yourself to the little woman. A private cubicle with a lock on the door, a coin operated TV and some tissue for clean up.

You just have to stop at the counter on your way, grab as many tokens as you'd like to buy and head back to find a booth down a dark hallway.

I notice a man at the counter who is clearly visiting this kind of set up for his first time. He asks the clerk about how much time each token provides and about the cost. The clerk just turns and points up to a sign on the wall behind the counter advertising and breaking down the token system.

"I'll take twenty bucks worth." this guy tells the clerk. He looks around to see if anyone's watching, like he's making a drug deal or paying an assassin.

I snigger to myself and set my sights.

He's wearing khaki colored slacks and a pale blue button down; looks neat, professional...and to my titillation, straight.

He looks to be in his mid to late forties. He's vaguely handsome, more from his masculine look than from the features of his face. He's got trace of a ponch around his midsection, not so much as fat as just well fed and healthy. His stance is sexy as well. Feet set firmly about shoulder width, a fleshy butt and the hint of a bulge below the belt.

I allow him to get a head start into the dimly lit hall and then follow. He stops a moment to let his eyes adjust and figure out where he's at. Once done, he saunters to an open stall door, his hips waving side to side with the slightest jolt during each step. Kinda hypnotizing for an admiring onlooker.

As I'm stepping closer to the booth he just entered, I heard the jingle of coins hit the floor. "Perfect lead in," I think, as I gingerly grab his door knob and give it a tug. "Hold on a second..." he whispers.

"I'll get 'em for you, Sir." I whisper back.

He's got a curious look on his face as I squat down to grab his tokens. A shred of surprise and estimation in that gaze. Perhaps more appraisal than estimation.

I bravely begin a step inside his space as he leans back from a squat to a sitting position on the little jerk-bench. He shoots me a naughty grin and reaches over to snap the lock on the door.

I hand him his tokens and he puts a couple into the TV slot. His finger pokes the first selection button.

"What are you looking to have done, Sir?" I quietly ask, putting my hand between his legs and resting it on his steel pole.

"I need to get the cum outta my nuts." he mutters to me, bashfully.

I listen to the squeals of some chick coming from the speakers for a second or two. "You know, Sir, I wouldn't mind if you call me your boy. I like my men to dominate."

He grins at my suggestion of a little cat and mouse game. "I need to get the cum outta my nuts...boy." he utters.

"Should I suck you off or give you a handjob?" I query.

He gets into our little game by asking, "Should I suck you or give you a handjob, what?"

"Sir." I say. "Should I suck you or give you a handjob, Sir..." I repeat, getting more and more turned on by this guy.

"Both boy, start with the hand, then suck." he orders.

He stands up, unzips his slacks and I reach in to get a feel of what I'm working with. His look reveals some grateful satisfaction at having someone get at him. I was hot and urgent by now, and I quickly release the trappings of his slacks and slide them, along with his boxers, down his furry legs to the floor.

I spit on my hand a couple of times and grabbed hold of his fat prick. I rubbed the palm of my hand around the tip of his knob, used two fingers to slick up and down the shaft just under his glans and then I move my sloppy hand down to rub his shaggy nuts.

"Now suck it." he commanded. It's nice to know that I got him worked up enough to treat me like HIS cock-sucker.

My tongue laps the tip of his penis and he shudders. "Oh hell yeah!" he softly exclaims, "put it in all the way and help me out boy."

I'd had plenty of practice at taking cock this way up until now, so I cram his meat stick into the back of my slimy throat. He grunts and grabs me by the hair and pulls my head down so that I can feel his bush tickling my nostrils. His helmet is well defined with a haughty rim and I begin to gag. He doesn't seem to care that I need to breathe and continues to push his meat deeper into my gullet with his hips, firmly keeping me put by the head-of-hair.

He pulls out of my deep throat and sprays shot after shot of thick man sauce over my tongue. I gurgle and choke when he lets me go and I pull off to gasp in some air, taking in his dick spit along with it.

When I catch my breath I look up, cum dribbling on my chin, and say, "Goddamn your a rough fucker!"

He starts to tell me how sorry he is for treating me like a common whore and I interrupt him. "No, I loved it. Thank you, Sir."

He looks upon me, gaping mouth, no words coming out. I interrupt his moment of bewilderment by asking him, "When you planning to come back here again?"

"I don't know. Probably not long from now." he tells me.

I reach into my back pocket and grab a pen and gas receipt. I jot down my number and hand it to him.

"Call me when your on the way, I'll be here. I want you to fuck my face like that again."

"Thanks boy, nice job." he relates as I hurl him a wicked grin. I creep out the door and down the hall, finally reaching my car in the lot. I begin the drive back home, to me and Hanks place to share my story and, hopefully, to get another juicy load from my fuck bud.

Well, that's how it all started.