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Breakdown


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Part 1

“Fuck!” I kicked my car in anger… and instantly regretted it. “Shit, shit, shit!” I hopped around on one foot until the pain in my toes subsided. This was not how my day was supposed to go. At twenty one years old, I was finally moving out of my parent’s home. I had been ready to move a couple years ago when I graduated from high school but my Dad had talked me into going to the local junior college while working for a few years to save money. I had watched as all my friends moved on. The smart ones were accepted into prestigious schools. I had done okay in school, but wasn’t a geek or anything. My jock friends who were good enough got athletic scholarships, and while I was on the high school soccer team, I always knew I wasn’t good enough to have a future in it. The rich kids didn’t have to worry about the cost, of course, but my Dad was just a middle manager who constantly worried about being downsized. Even my high school girlfriend went off to college. In fact, she dumped me the night before she left. I heard through the grapevine that she dropped out last year after she got knocked up by some college senior. Naturally I had a good laugh about that one. Finally, though, I’ve served my time at the junior college. A couple months ago I got my Associates degree and was accepted at in San Diego. I had worked my ass off in junior college to make sure I got a shot at something better. I would never tell him, but my Dad was right about going to a junior college first.

So, this morning I gave Dad a firm handshake and my crying Mom a big hug and hit the road for the drive to San Diego - over 750 miles. My Dad told me to take the I5 but I wanted to drive down the coast. I was somewhere south of Carmel when the engine temperature warning light came on. I decided to keep driving to the next town. A few miles later and I saw smoke or steam from under the hood. I pulled to the side of the road right as the engine died. Now I was stuck in the middle of god awful nowhere. Hundreds of miles from home, hundreds of miles from San Diego, and who knows how many miles from civilisation. I pulled out my phone. I should call Dad. He would come help, but I didn’t dial. No. I was hundreds of miles from home. I didn’t want him to drive down. And I didn’t want the 'I told you' lecture for not sticking to the i5. My cell signal wasn’t great but I was able to get online on my phone and find the name of the nearest town. A few more minutes of fighting the slow internet and I found the name of a garage there. Thank god! How could anyone live with such crappy cell service?

I called the garage and told them my car had broken down, and also described my location as best I could. The asshole on the phone gave me some attitude about not knowing the exact location. Like I was supposed to know my way around his shit hole corner of California? However, I kept my cool. After I gave him my info, I got back in the car and waited.

And waited.


And waited.

After about an hour I was starting to lose my patience. The sun was setting and it was just starting to get dark. I did not want to sit out here in the dark. Every horror movie I’ve ever seen was coming back to haunt me. I was about to pick up my phone and call back when I saw headlights coming my way. Sure enough, it was a tow truck. The mechanic pulled up behind me and I got out to meet him. I was ready to rip into him but held back when I saw him. The guy was tall, about 6’3”, but there was something strange about him. He was very lean, kind of haggard really, and there was something dark and scary about him. Not just dark like his hair - it was more of a 'aura', I guess. I decided that making a fuss about being kept waiting might not be smart.

I just gave him a smile and thanked him. He didn’t really respond, just kind of nodded. Not really even nodded. Just inclined his head in my general direction. He walked to the front of my car and make a gesture which I assumed was an indication to open the hood. He spent a few minutes looking over the engine. I hovered nearby trying to pretend I knew what he was was looking at. My Dad had always warned me to be careful with mechanics. As he put it, 'they will try to sell you $500 of repairs to fix a $25 problem'. This guy, however, seemed to know his stuff. He tested various connections, had me try to start the engine then he tested and probed some more.

There was something about him that was - interesting - I guess is the best word. Like I said, he was gaunt and there was something worn out about him…but not like he was ugly or anything. It gave him an element of mystery and danger that I can’t quite explain. He had black hair that hung over his forehead and blue eyes. He was older than me but not old really, maybe in his 30’s. I just found myself watching him and trying not to let him see.

Finally he shut the hood looked at me shaking his head. “Could be worse.” He had a deep voice that seemed strange coming from such a thin and worn body. He rambled some explanation that I didn’t really follow… car engines aren’t really my thing, you know?

“How much to fix it?”

“About $650 between parts and labor.”

I had been saving up money while living at home but that didn’t mean I had money to burn. Still nothing could be done about it now. “How long will it take to fix?”

He shrugged. “Can get you up and running tomorrow.”

“Shit! I mean, I’m on my way to San Diego for college. I'm not from around here.”

He looked at me but didn’t reply.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping. I wanted to drive straight through.”

“Well, you aren’t going anywhere in this until tomorrow.” He looked at me, his blue eyes piercing as he seemed to measure me up, and I guess took pity on me. “Tell you what. There’s a little motel in town… it’s not much but you should be able to get a room there for tonight. A friend of mine runs the place. Get in the truck and I’ll drop you off.”

I thanked him and, once he had the car attached to his tow truck, I climbed in the passenger seat. It was a long trip and he didn’t seem in any hurry. We rode in silence for a few minutes. My eyes kept wandering to him. He was handsome, in a way, I guess. I tried to figure out what about him was so strange and… well… captivating. I’m not gay, you know, so it was just curiosity. I’m sure he caught me glancing at him a few times… he seemed amused.

He had a tattoo on his arm that looked kind of familiar. To make conversation, I asked him what it was.

“Biohazard.” He replied.

“Oh yeah? That seems like a strange choice.”

He looked at me with those piercing blue eyes again. I felt a little tingle in my stomach life butterflies. What the hell? I cursed myself…. what am I, some sort of 12 year old girl?

“Do you know what it means?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“It means I’m HIV positive.”

It was such an odd thing to tell a stranger, and he said it so nonchalantly, that it took me a second to understand what he had said. “Oh. Man. I’m so sorry.” I blurted.

“Why?” He had a strange sort of half smile.

I squirmed. “That you are sick.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I've been positive a long time. But don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

I didn’t know what to say so just sat there, looking out the window, trying not to steal glances at him. I’m sure I heard him chuckle but he didn’t push the conversation.

It was very dark by the time we reached the motel. “Tell Ken that Wes sent you and that I said not to run up the rate on you,” he said as I climbed down from the truck. He looked at me and I felt him measuring me up again somehow. Damn… I swear my stomach fluttered again. Partly in fear of him, partly for… something else.

“You look like you need a drink. Just to calm your nerves. Ken has a little bar in the motel. You should drop in there once you are settled in.”

I gave him my friendliest smile and thanked him again. Then he drove the truck, pulling my poor little car, into the night.

The motel was something from the 40’s or 50’s and looked like the motor lodge that time forgot. Couldn’t be much business that came along this route and it showed. Even in the dark I could see the paint was peeling and chipping away in places. A broken window had been covered over with plywood. Yep, I decided, I had somehow gotten stranded in a horror movie. There was even an old neon sign with most of the letters burnt out.

I was somewhat surprised when I walked into the reception area that it didn’t look so bad inside. Tacky and dated? Yes. But clean. Not run down like the outside. It was brightly lit with florescent lights and that would probably make you go blind if you sat there too long. A chime sounded as i opened the door. The guy behind the counter was a bit heavyset… no fat, just with a little bit of a belly… and he gave me a big smile as I came in. He must have been ecstatic to have a customer.

I quickly learned that this was Ken. He was as friendly as Wes (the mechanic) had been quiet and intimidating. He chatted amiably while he checked me in. He and Wes had gone to school together and they were still good friends. I half listened, somewhat relieved to be around someone who seemed so… normal, I guess. His blond hair was cut short and neatly combed. He reminded me a bit of one of my professors at the junior college.

A few minutes later, I was sitting in my motel room. Like the lobby, the room was clean but dated. The bed was a bit lumpy but not completely uncomfortable. Not someplace I would have chosen to stay. but I was glad to have it in the circumstances. I sent a text to my parents telling them I had 'decided' to stop for the night so I didn’t get too tired while driving. I didn’t mention the car troubles. My mom would just worry and my Dad would insist on driving down to help. I tried the TV…. they had a total of 7 or 8 channels but, not surprisingly, there was nothing worth watching. As I wasn’t ready to sleep yet, and found images of Wes kept popping into my head, I made my way down to the bar - just to have something to do. Being 21 has it’s advantages.

Edited by Hotload84
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Part 2

The bar was just off the check in area. It was not a big room, but there was a small counter on one side with a small assortment of alcohol behind it. Several tables were scattered around the room but I was the only person there. It wasn’t as bright as the reception area and there were several old neon signs for various beers lining the walls. There were two entrances, one of which opened onto the hallway that led to lobby, (the hallway conveniently kept most of the glare of the florescent lights out of the bar), and the other door lead outside.

Ken covered the bar as well as the hotel reception, and since I suspect I was the only guest in the motel, this wasn't much of a of challenge. I’ve never been a beer drinker and the bar had a pretty limited selection of other alcohol so I just ordered a whisky and coke. I had picked up a taste for it from a friend who drank the stuff like a fish. Ken was generous with the whisky so I sipped the drink slowly. He seemed content to let me drink in relative peace and quiet.

After a few minutes the outside door opened. I looked up and saw Wes the mechanic stroll into the room. He had changed into jeans and a t-shirt, so I assumed he was off work now. He chatted with Ken for a few minutes then took a seat at the bar near me. “All settled in?” he asked. He still didn’t seem to smile much but seemed a bit more relaxed.

I nodded and thanked him for his help again. Didn’t really know what to say. He was the first guy I had even met who was HIV positive (at least the first one who had told me). Plus I was still having a hard time not starring at him - his black hair and blue eyes, that gaunt and worn face. That air of mystery and danger.

What the hell? I asked myself. Am I checking out a dude? I’m not gay. No - I’m just tired and stressed, I decided.

We sat quietly for a minute then he leaned in. “Hope I didn’t freak you out earlier - when I told you I'm positive.”

I know what he meant of course. “No, not at all,” I lied, "I was just surprised, a little, I guess.”

He didn’t lean back and I felt pressured to say something more. “So, are you.. you know, gay?”

“What it bother you if I said yes?”

“No. I don’t have anything against gay people. One of my cousins is gay.”

“How about you? You ever thought about it?”

“Nope. Never. I’m straight.”

He leaned in closer to whisper conspiratorially. I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Never thought about it once? Maybe in the locker room at school? Wondered what the other guys were packing? How they sized-up?”

“No… well… I mean….”

“That’s what I thought.” Out of the corner of my eye, his half smile seemed cruel and his eyes raked over me. “You are a hot boy. Bet lots of guys have lusted after you.”

I had never thought of myself being lusted after by guys. I mean…. that’s weird, right? But suddenly my mind raced. I have a nice body and work out... I still play soccer and it helps keep me fit. Memories flashed into my mind's eye. Guys who had been a little too kind to me. A tutor in my freshman year who had been a little too solicitous. A customer who used to come in every time I was working and talk to me. Other men, other times.

“Yeah. I guess so,” I replied as I took a sip of my drink. He didn’t let me pull away though.

“And you can’t take your eyes off me.” I felt his hand wrap around my shoulders. His arm felt strong, comforting, and I didn’t pull away. I felt my dick stir a little.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I was sweating a little, nervous, wanting him to stop. And yet afraid he would.

“You can admit it. Just the two of us here. And you'll be gone tomorrow. No one will know.”

“Well, yeah, I guess you are handsome.” I took another sip of my drink to give myself courage. I took a deep breath and turned to look him in the eye. “I find you kind of - hot. Definitely alluring.”

His lips were near mine. I wondered for a moment where Ken had gone. But then Wes’s lips pressed against mine and I forget everything else. Just the sensation of the stubble on his face. So masculine. The smell of his breath. So intoxicating. His tongue pressing through my lips. So aggressive. So demanding. His arm around me, one hand stroking the back of my neck. So dominant. I surrendered to him, melting into his arms. I felt so wicked. So free.

His other hand found my chest and rubbed my nipples through my shirt. I gasped. I had never realised I was so sensitive there. The hand rubbing my neck began to slide slowly down my back. His hand cupping my butt and gently rubbing. Playing me like a fiddle. I was panting and he was working me up. I was so horny. My dick was hard and straining in my jeans. I was sure I was about to shoot right there in the bar.

He pulled back and lifted me up. His hand cupped my ass again. I let him lead me out of the bar. Following him obediently. My straining dick tenting my jeans. His hand on my ass guided me. He didn’t ask my room number but seemed to know. He fished my room key out of my pocket, his fingers brushing my dick teasingly. He opened the door and guided me in.

He pulled my shirt off and threw it aside. The cool air of the room did nothing to calm me.

Kissing me again. Touching me where ever he wanted. I didn’t protest. I was lost in the moment. He pulled my arm and placed my hand on his crotch. I could feel his dick straining as hard as mine. I had never felt another guy’s dick before. It felt so natural in my hand.

His hands were on my shoulders. Pushing me down to my knees in front of him, his crotch was inches in front of me. The straining shaft was all I could see, the slight musk, all I could smell. I glanced up and him for permission and he nodded. I fumbled with his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper, and pulled open his fly. Closer now. Only the thin material of his briefs between me and his cock. Moment of truth.

My mouth watering. I was scared. But eager. His hand on the back of my head, pulling me forward. I don’t resist. My lips press against the front of his briefs. Kissing his shaft. My tongue slowly parts my lips and I lick him through the underwear. Taste of salty. Maybe sweat, maybe cum, maybe piss. I don’t care…. at the moment it is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. No turning back now.

“That’s it, boy,” he moaned above me, “Get it wet for me.”

My hands found the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down. His dick popped out. It seemed so big that it filled up my vision but I guess it was a bit over six inches long and about five inches around. I realised suddenly that I wasn’t sure what to do. I had never had a cock in my mouth before.

I started by running my tongue around the head and across the piss slit. Wes liked that but seemed eager to move on. He pushed forward slightly and slipped the head into my mouth. His dick felt hard on my lips but soft of on my tongue. He was warm and throbbing in my mouth and he slid the head into and out of my mouth. Pushing deeper gently, patiently. More of him in my mouth, his black pubes moving closer.

I gagged and he allowed me to catch my breath without pulling his dick out. The pushing in a bit more. And more. Until I gagged again.

“You can do it, boy. You can take it. Just relax your throat and swallow it in.”

I tried to obey and he was able to slide in further but I was simply not able to take it all the way. I wanted it so much. I wanted to feel his pubes against my face, to smell him as he thrust into my throat but it was not to be.

“It’s ok, boy.” He said, looking down at me. “This is just the warm up.”

He pulled me to my feet, turned me around so my back was to him, and bent me over the bed.

Edited by Hotload84
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Good story... my only question at this point... there was a bed in the bar?

No... But the bar is in the hotel. Wes leads him back to his room. See paragraph:

"I let him lead me out of the bar. Following him obediently. My straining dick tenting my jeans. His hand on my ass guided me. He didn’t ask my room number but seemed to know. He fished my room key out of my pocket, his fingers brushing my dick teasingly. He opened the door and guided me in. "

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