2. Two

I lit another cigarette and shoved the lighter in my pocket, never taking my eyes off the old man in the suit. He was bent over the hood of his rental car, sweat gathering on the back of his neck as he furiously texted someone. Something about the guy gave off the air of a lost lamb, someone who was so out of his element, he wasn't even on the same planet anymore.

I glanced at the plates. You're far from home, Nebraska. And traveling all alone.

The old man's fingers stumbled over the touchscreen, his brow furrowed in concentration. Poor sap probably didn't even realize the danger he was in. Out here in the middle of nowhere, a thousand miles from anyone who gave a damn about him. Easy pickings.

I took a long drag on my cigarette, the smoke curling around my face as I exhaled. In my mind's eye, I could see it all play out. I'd wait until he finished his frantic texting and climbed into that shiny rental Buick. Then I'd saunter over casual-like, maybe ask for directions or a light. Get him to roll down the window.

That's when I'd strike. My hand would shoot through the open window, switchblade flicking out from my sleeve. Before he even registered what was happening, I'd jam the blade into the side of his neck, piercing his carotid artery. Bright red blood would spurt out in powerful jets, splattering the beige interior, running in rivulets down his crisp white dress shirt.

His mouth would gape open in shock, eyes bulging. He'd gurgle and spasm, hands scrabbling uselessly at his ruined throat. I'd twist the knife and yank it free, unleashing a fresh geyser. Blood would pool on the car seat, soaking into the upholstery. The coppery scent would fill my nostrils.

God, it would feel so fucking good. It was making my dick hard just thinking about it.

I tore my eyes away from the old man and scanned the rundown truck stop, weighing my options. A quick fuck might take the edge off, let me think straight. The lot lizards usually hung out by the dumpsters behind the bathrooms, trolling for horny truckers, and no truck stop was complete without them. I could probably score a cheap blowjob, work out this insistent hard-on.

A heavyset woman in cutoff shorts and a halter top lingered by the men's room door, eyeing me with disinterest. Normally I wouldn't be desperate enough to stick my dick in whatever washed up skank was peddling her wares, but the pressure in my balls was getting difficult to ignore.

I was about to push off the wall and head her way, when the door of the rest stop convenience store swung open with a jangle of bells. Stu emerged, a plastic bag dangling from one meaty fist, a cigarette clamped between his teeth. Our eyes met, briefly dancing, before I turned back to stare at the man good and hard.

"See something you like?" Stu asked, coming up beside me. When I turned, he was eyeing me up and down, and he'd definitely noticed the bulge in my shorts.

I snorted. "Not particularly. But you know how it is. A man has needs."

"That he does." Stu sucked on his cigarette, staring appreciatively at the tent my dick was making in the shorts.

I smirked and grabbed my cock through my shorts, putting it on full display for him. "I normally charge if you want to watch, but seeing as how you're giving me a ride…"

He shoved the bag at me. "Get in the damn truck."

I snickered and climbed up into the cab.

As I settled into the passenger seat, Stu tossed the plastic bag between us and cranked the engine. It rumbled to life with a throaty growl. He threw it into gear and peeled out of the lot, tires spitting gravel.

I dug through the bag, curious about what provisions he had procured. Slim Jims, pork rinds, a couple cans of cheap beer. I cracked one open and took a swig. Piss-warm, but it would do.

"So what's your story, cowboy?" I asked, tearing open a Slim Jim. "Let me guess - a wife and two point five kids waiting for you back at the ranch?"

Stu snorted. "Hardly. I'm what you might call...unattached."

"A lone wolf. I can respect that." I tilted my head, studying him. Stu kept his eyes on the road, jaw set, one hand on the wheel. A man of few words. "Though I gotta say, you don't much look the part of a drifter. What's your game, Stu? Cause I doubt you're just out here haulin' freight and suckin' dick at rest stops for shits and giggles."

Stu cut his eyes at me, then back to the road. "Who says I'm sucking dick?"

"Okay, fine then. Getting your dick sucked. Whatever. But you are gettin' some out here."

"Everybody's getting something," he mumbled.

I shifted in the seat to face him. "Seriously. Why are you out here?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I just like the scenery."

I laughed humorlessly. "The scenery? What, endless stretches of blacktop and tumbleweeds really do it for you?"

Stu's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Among other things." He slid me a sidelong glance, eyes lingering on the bulge still tenting my shorts.

"Oh, I get it. Stu likes to watch ." I leaned back, slowly stroking myself through the thin fabric.

He shifted in his seat. "You're the one who started groping yourself. I'm just an innocent bystander."

"Innocent, my ass." I slipped my hand into my shorts and wrapped it around my stiff cock with a hiss of pleasure. "I bet you are the type that likes to watch. Gets off on seeing what nasty shit other guys are into."

Stu glanced over at me and his tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he watched me stroke. "And what nasty shit are you into?"

"All kinds. Sucking. Hand jobs. Being watched."

His eyes flicked over me, pupils blown wide and dark. "That so?"

I smirked and pulled my dick out of my shorts. "Oh yeah. I'm an exhibitionist through and through. Love knowing someone's getting hot and bothered watching me get off."

I started slowly fisting my cock, squeezing and twisting on the upstroke. Stu's gaze followed my hand up and down, his breathing getting heavier. "You make a mess in my cab, you best clean it up after."

"Eyes on the road, cowboy," I taunted. "Wouldn't want you to wreck this fine piece of machinery."

Stu forced his attention forward, but he kept sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye. I made sure to put on a good show, thumbing the slit and smearing the bead of pre-cum around the head.

"Fuck," Stu growled under his breath. He palmed himself through his jeans.

I smirked, enjoying the effect I was having on him. I stroked faster, letting out a low moan. "I also like getting fucked in truck stop bathrooms by strangers. Letting them use me like a cheap whore."

Stu shifted again, adjusting himself. The outline of his hard cock strained against his jeans. "Is that what you want? For me to use you? You want me to shove you against the wall and fuck you so hard you'd feel it for days?"

I spit in my palm and stroked faster, putting on a show for my captive audience. "You gonna cum in me when you do it?"

"Damn straight I'm gonna cum in you," Stu growled, his eyes glued to the road but flicking over to watch me stroke. "No condom either. I want to watch it leak out of you and lick it up."

My cock throbbed in my fist at his filthy words. Fuck, he was good at this game.

"That's so fucking hot," I groaned, swiping my thumb over the leaking slit. "Tell me more. What else are you gonna do to me? "

Stu gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. "After I fill you up, I'm gonna spin you around and make you suck my cock. Get it nice and clean with that filthy mouth of yours."

I let out a whimper, fisting myself faster. "Yeah? You gonna fuck my throat raw?"

"Damn right I am. Gonna make you choke on it. And you're gonna thank me for it like the cock-hungry slut you are."

"Fuck, Stu..." My balls were tightening, the pressure building at the base of my spine. I was so close already, just from his dirty talk.

"That's it, boy. Stroke that dick for me," Stu growled. "I wanna watch you make a mess all over yourself."

I threw my head back against the seat, pumping my fist wildly. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum..."

"Do it. Fuckin' do it. Shoot that load for me."

With a strangled cry, my cock pulsed in my hand and I was coming hard, painting my chest and stomach. I stroked myself through it, shuddering and gasping under Stu's heated gaze.

As the aftershocks subsided, I sagged back against the seat, my softening cock still loosely gripped in my fist. Pearly ropes of cum streaked my abs and chest, a few stray drops clinging to the dark hair trailing down from my navel.

Stu let out a low whistle. "Damn, boy. You made quite the mess." His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes raked over my debauched state. He leaned over and for a minute I stiffened, thinking he was going to try to touch me, but he didn't. He opened up a box in the back and brought out some baby wipes, tossing them to me. "Now clean yourself up."

I caught the baby wipes and smirked at him. "Yes sir," I said mockingly, proceeding to wipe the cooling cum off my stomach and chest. I made a show of it, slowly dragging the wipes over my skin .

Stu shifted in his seat, clearly affected by the display despite his gruff demeanor. His erection strained noticeably against his jeans. Part of me wanted to reach over and palm him through the denim, feel how hard he was, but I resisted the urge. The game was much more fun when he had to suffer.

After cleaning myself off, I wadded up the messy wipes and stuffed them into the empty beer can. Tucking my spent cock back into my shorts, I rolled down the window and tossed the can out onto the highway. Let the road crews deal with it.

"Litterbug," Stu grunted, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

I shrugged and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. "So, you never did tell me. What's a guy like you doing out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?"

"Could ask you the same thing," he deflected, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "You don't exactly look like a local."

I barked out a laugh. "Do I look like I'm from anywhere?" I blew a stream of smoke toward the cab ceiling.

Stu's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Guess not. You got that whole 'drifter without a home' vibe going on."

I took another drag and flicked the ash out the window. "You're one to talk, Mr. Mysterious. Cruising the interstate, picking up hitchhikers, getting your voyeuristic kicks... Definitely not the vibe of a happily married trucker just doing his job."

He chuckled low in his throat. "Never said I was."

A heavy silence settled over the cab, broken only by the rumble of the engine and the sound of tires on asphalt. I finished my cigarette and flicked the butt out the window.

"Gotta take a piss," I announced abruptly. "Pull over. "

Stu glanced at me, then nodded tersely and steered the rig onto the shoulder. As soon as we rolled to a stop, I hopped out and sauntered back the rig to take a leak.

I heard Stu's door open and his boots crunch on the gravel as he came around the front of the truck. He leaned against the grill, arms crossed, watching me with hooded eyes as I unzipped and pulled out my dick.

"Like what you see?" I taunted, meeting his gaze boldly as I aimed my stream at the rear tire.

Stu's eyes gleamed in the shadows, fixed intently on my cock as I took my leak. "You always put on a show when you piss?"

I smirked and gave my dick a little shake before tucking it away. "Can't help it. I'm a showman. It's what I do."

Something hungry flashed across his rugged features before he schooled them back into indifference. He straightened up from the grill. "Get back in the truck. We're losing daylight."

"Sir, yes sir," I mocked with a sarcastic salute.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't rise to the bait. Too bad. I could use a good fight.