Chad DeSoto thought if he escaped his past he would be free of it. Unfortunately sometimes the events you are trying to run from find you. On a journey across country Chad finds sex everywhere he looks, but he only finds love in one place; California. In a dimly lit club in San Francisco's Castro district, Chad meets Jeremy Houston and the sparks fly between them. What Jeremy doesn't realize is that Chad is on the run, but he may never escape the fear that follows him. Sometimes life throws you curveballs, other times it gives you diamonds. The only problem is in knowing the difference.
Chad drooled over every sinewy fiber showing from under Charlie's tanned skin. He used the jack to raise the truck up another inch for the spare, which was full sized and not a rubber donut.
Charlie brought it over after waiting for another gap in the traffic. "It's friggin' hot for October." He used his shoulder to wipe at the running sweat on his temple.
"Ya got that right." Chad helped him aim the spare onto the protruding bolts. When it was lined up, they both pushed it on.
"Okay. Lower her down a bit." Charlie stood.
Chad released the lever and cranked the jack lower.
"That's good." He knelt down and began spinning the bolts on again. Chad helped until all five were connected. He sat down on his rump as Charlie tightened them, staring at the man's biceps and back, about to come in his pants.
Charlie made sure the lug nuts were snug, then began lowering the truck down and removing the jack from under it. "What a goddamn ordeal." Charlie tossed the jack and tire iron into the bed of the truck.
Chad picked up the spare. "Where you want this?"
"Just stick it in the bed." Charlie helped him toss the flat tire in the truck. When they were finished, wiping their hands on their jeans, Chad said, "I have water in the car." He walked to the Pathfinder and grabbed the bottle, returning to find Charlie sitting on the open tailgate, still brushing off his hands.
Chad joined him, giving him the water. When Charlie showed no hesitation in drinking from it, Chad's desire for him heightened. Charlie handed him back the bottle. Chad finished what was left.
"I can't thank ya enough." Charlie glanced at him. "Not too many stop nowadays."
"Like I said, I would like the help if I were stuck."
"Where're you from? I can't see yer plate from back here."
"Ohio. Don't hold that against me." Chad crushed the plastic bottle but he couldn't hear it crackle against the noise of freeway traffic.
"Why would I hold that against ya?" Charlie laughed.
"Never mind." He stared into Charlie's sky blue eyes. "So? Are you a real cowboy?"
"Yum." Chad corrected his faux pas. "Uh, I mean, really?"
"I heard ya the first time." Charlie laughed.
"Sorry. Now that I let my preference slip, you want to kill me? Kick some fairy ass?"
"No." Charlie smiled, shaking his head. "I still appreciate the help."
"I should let you get back to your rodeo, or rustling, or whatever it is you cowboys do." Chad hopped off.
"I don't know how to thank you." Charlie slammed the tailgate shut.
"I do." Chad glanced at the moving traffic.
"And what would that be?" Charlie gave Chad a wry smile and reached for his hat, popping it back on his head.
"Oh" Chad shifted his weight and pushed on his stiff cock. "You don't want to know."
Charlie gazed out at the bizarre lunar landscape and the long stretch of straight highway first before he said, "Tell me."
"Can I suck your dick?" Chad winced, waiting for a punch in the jaw.
"Get in the truck." Charlie grinned.
"Yes! Yes!" Chad sprinted to the passenger's side. He opened the truck door, tossed the plastic water bottle inside, and grinned at the horse bridle and other riding tack on the floor. Before he got in he said, "This isn't a trick right? You don't pull out your six guns and shoot the queer, right?"
"Here's my six-gun." Charlie opened his jeans.
At the sight of his erect dick, Chad leapt into the tuck, face first, his feet sticking out of the passenger's side. He grabbed the base of Charlie's cock and sank it into his mouth. The scent of man-sweat made Chad swoon. He writhed on the seat, rubbing his dick into the leather under him, sucking like he meant it. After all, sooner or later, someone may call the highway patrol. He'd already lost an hour of drive time, but what an hour it was!