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Do you like what you see, boy?
Now, don't be shy. I saw you looking. And I don't mind. Why do you think I'm riding around with him dressed like this?
Yes, that's more like it. You can touch him if you want, he's not going to do anything about it. A fine piece, isn't he? I caught him three days ago, at a truck stop. He's a hitchhiker if you can believe that. Not that he had much luck with it, I reckon. Even with clothes on, his tattoos would scare away most regular folk.
I wouldn't call myself a regular folk, though. So, what the heck, I accepted to give him a ride when I saw him thumbing at the side of the road. Not many people take a ride at the back of a big, scary old biker like me.
It's their loss, really. My bike's a beauty and anyone would consider themselves lucky to get a joyride on her. I'm 55 and I'm sure she's been with me longer than you're alive. Hmm? I don't look that old, you say? Well, don't you have a way with words?
But I digress. Anyway, I got this twerp with me and seeing how he refrains from touching me much as we go, I figure he's a straight boy. That's fine by me, I don't give rides to boys on the account that they warm my bed unless they want to, of course.
It's hard to do small talk when we both had helmets- hmm? Yes, helmets. And I had a leather jacket I really liked but I'm getting to that part. Yes, I had a break at a truck stop, a few hours after I picked this ungrateful shit, pardon my language.
I usually don't visit truck stops that much but this place's owner and I go way back. He's a real gentleman, I don't know what he sees in the vulgar old me. He's fine with bikers and truckers, nagging them about safety and healthy food. Sometimes protection because you know how things get when a man gets lonely on the long road and there are others like you in truck stop bathrooms.
Or maybe you're a bit young for that.
There, I'm chatting and catching up with some old friends, who all tease me for riding with a stud on my back. All for good fun, of course.
I didn't see where the hitchhiker went and I assumed he was talking with the truckers to find something more comfortable than sharing a Harley-Davidson. Good luck, I thought, maybe even feeling a little good about helping a soul in need. Ha!
Then, out of nowhere, I and my friends heard a commotion coming from the bathrooms. I went there to see what was going on, thinking I'd have to break a fight between two drunks at worst.
Imagine my surprise when I see my hitchhiker, with a beer bottle in hand, knuckles bloody and fuming, towering over a twinky waiter who just held this bruising cheek and covered it on the ground. Of course, I got in between them and some truckers followed me inside by then, trying to see what was going on.
Ah, look! He's embarrassed now! Well, he can't tell you so I will. This guy here hooked up with this pretty young waiter some good time and when asked for his phone number, he got mad. I'll repeat what he said to you word for word because this old man still remembers it. He said: "I'm fine with getting a blowjob from a homo but I won't stand him getting his dirty hands anywhere near me!"
Now, you can imagine how the place went silent all of a sudden. I suspect he was hoping for us, a group of big, hairy, older men to join him in the gay bashing. Of course, he didn't expect most of us to be gay or otherwise queer ourselves.
"The police"? No boy, by that point, I still knew better than calling the cops, like they're ever good for anything. So I signed the others to calm down and went up to my hitchhiker, feeling somehow responsible for his actions.
As politely as I could manage to be in that situation, I said we were an open-minded place here and don't condone violence. And he could just leave with an apology and by paying the poor boy's hospital fees.
It should be obvious that he didn't take the offer. Oh no, not only he rejected it and called me a pouf to my face (which I'm fine with, it's not like he's wrong), he threw his beer at me. Soaking my favorite leather jacket.
Let's say there wasn't much civil talking after that for a while and this brat got a rude awakening about the values and principles of us bikers and truckers. We managed to strip him off his clothes, only leaving his shoes and jockstrap. Oh yes, the jock's all on him. A funny choice for a boy so worried about protecting his ass.
I remember thinking, this boy's got a nice body, with some meat on his bones and nice muscles. I think he'd be really popular if he could keep his rude mouth shut.
After that, the guys carried him back to my bike upon my advice while I take off my jacket and have a cigar to calm myself down. I know I let myself go a little but... "I still look good"? See, you rascal? There are still nice young men out there who know how to be polite toward their seniors. Learn something.
I followed them to put the emergency rope I always carry with me to good use. I'm no stranger to roping down unruly boys but it helped that the others held him down. For all his strength, he's no match for a dozen experienced bears! The bandana tied around his mouth was from the owner, tired of his threats and cries.
There's really not much to say after that. I stood everyone a cold drink, comforting the waiter while this hitchhiker sat nearly naked under the hot sun. I'm sure he was beating himself over for not taking my offer. Before we left, I left my jacket to the truck stop's owner with a promise of mailing it to me after dry cleaning and a kiss from both him and the poor waiter. So I guess this twerp had his uses.
Since then, I've been riding with him, visiting every gay club and cruising spot I know along the way. People are usually very interested in him right from the get-go and become even more willing to have a go with him after I tell them his story. We'll reach the address I found in his wallet in two days, where I plan to dump him on his parents' doorstep. Oh yes, stop wiggling and moaning, you deserved it.
Oh, you seem a bit tired. Well, I'm parched after talking so long under the sun, myself. Why don't you tell me your story, boy? Over a couple of drinks? This hunk of meat's not going, anywhere.
And if you want to have some fun with me or him... I'm willing to take the scenic route.
THE END
