Gorilla and the Metalhead Pt. 02

Months passed. Gorilla piloted his wheels to all four corners of the country, carting pallets of shrink-wrapped imported crap from warehouse to warehouse. This was apparently very important for the economy, but the whole process was meaningless to Gorilla. He didn't lose any sleep over it. So long as he was paid well for his labour and his time, he was happy enough.

Carlos's band began to attract some local popularity and critical acclaim. A record label had been sniffing around. Their rep thought some of their songs were good enough for a demo recording. The label not only funded the demo, but they organised some gigs in bigger venues so the band could showcase their material to a wider audience. A small ten-date tour of the south-east was organised, with the final, biggest gig scheduled for Atlanta. And it was on the date of their final gig that Gorilla unexpectedly found himself stuck in Atlanta following a logistics fuck-up.

Gorilla hadn't thought about Carlos since they fucked. He got more than enough anonymous mancunt on the road, and Carlos was one hole in a queue of hole. On the other hand, to his own surprise and perhaps to his own shame and embarrassment, Carlos often fantasised about Gorilla. From time to time, he lay in bed at night, ready for sleep, and his cock would twitch at the thought of his face buried in Gorilla's steamy, unwashed crotch. His dick would grow thinking about tonguing Gorilla's rough, sweaty asscrack, and he'd often cum all over himself as he recalled the abrasive feeling of Gorilla's cock in his ass.

It was one night only, he knew their paths would never cross again, but it was tattooed onto his brain. The experience gave Carlos the never-ending gift of something hot to masturbate to.

Gorilla was approaching Atlanta when his phone rang. It was the logistics team. He was tired. He was tempted to press the red button, but he pressed the green.

Gorilla: "Yeah, what's up?"

Logistics: "Hey, man, how's things?"

Gorilla: "OK, just on my way into Atlanta."

Logistics: "Yeah, we know, we can see you on our screen. Location tracking."

Gorilla: "Yeah... so... why are you calling?"

Logistics: "Because something's gone wrong. There's been a timing fuck-up with the freight."

Gorilla: "I don't know what you mean."

Logistics: "You're scheduled to drop a load tonight in Atlanta, right?"

Gorilla: "Hope so. A big one. And I'm planning to unload the rig, too."

Logistics didn't get his meaning. Or, if they did, they ignored it. "The delivery you're scheduled to cart from Atlanta to Miami won't arrive by tomorrow. It'll arrive the day after. We need you to stay overnight in Atlanta to wait for it."

Gorilla grunted. "Fuck. You want me to spend an idle day in Atlanta?"

"Yes," replied Logistics.

"You gonna pay me for my time?" asked Gorilla.

"We have no choice," said the Logistics team member.

Gorilla agreed. "OK. How does this work?"

"The warehouse is expecting you to arrive soon to unload. Do that, and then head across town to check in at the Sleep Inn. They know you're coming. It's already taken care of, and you've got two nights there. You can park your rig in the vacant lot across the road. You're free to do whatever you want to do tomorrow, and we're paying you for the inconvenience."

Sweet deal, given the circumstances -- especially given it'd all been pre-planned for him. "Thanks for letting me know." He signed off and did as instructed.

He arrived at the Sleep Inn and parked his 42 wheels across the road. Collecting his overnight bag, he crossed the street and checked in. The establishment was unkempt, cheap and sleazy, but it'd do. He signed the check-in document and accepted the key.

He wasn't especially hungry. Those no-doze pills might keep him awake, but they also killed his appetite. He walked up the stairs to the first floor. Flopping onto the bed, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Nothing worth watching. They say we have the world at our fingertips, but Gorilla's fingertips didn't ask for urgent breaking news from the Japanese stock exchange, or coverage of a nail-biting lawn bowls tournament currently taking place in fucking Scotland.

He was restless. 'Fuck this shit,' he thought to himself. He switched the TV off and hurled the remote at it. 'Been a long day. I need a beer.' He took a quick shower, changed clothes, and made sure to bring his denim jacket.

He walked back down to the ground floor and headed into the street. Truckers often don't get to experience the cities they visit. Their working lives are about moving things from one location to another, but they rarely get the chance to walk around the locations they visit. Tonight was a rarity for Gorilla. He'd been to Atlanta dozens of times before, but each time had been an overnight stop. Arrive late, eat dinner, get some shuteye, depart early. He'd never experienced the city.

He crossed the road and found a bar. He sat on a stool and ordered a beer. Looking around the room, he quickly realised this wasn't his type of establishment. Pretty young things of all possible genders; powdered, lip-sticked and made-up to the bejesus. It felt like soft candy, and he wanted something rawer than this. He didn't know the city, but his phone did. He searched for 'things to do in Atlanta tonight' and discovered there was a rock show about six blocks away that sounded interesting. The name of the band made him laugh out loud (you'll find out what it is in a minute), and he bought a ticket to the show just because of the name. He finished his beer and made his way to the venue.

*

Carlos and his bandmates were backstage in their dressing room, preparing to go on stage. They could hear the sub-bass of the support act rocking out, and they knew the crowd was being whipped into a frenzy. Carlos's drummer was sitting in a corner of the room, quietly tapping his drumsticks on his thighs and knees in mental preparation for his performance. The bass player was pacing the room in nervousness, and the rhythm guitarist was in the bathroom taking his usual pre-gig shit. Everything was as expected.

The support act finished. Carlos heard their singer announce "Hey, you guys fucking rock, Atlanta! Hope you liked our set, and come see us again some time. But stick around, the best is yet to come! Fuckin' A2M!"

The house lights came on, and the crowd dispersed for twenty minutes or so. Some went to the bar in search of beer, some went outside in search of drugs, others went to the bathroom.

Gorilla arrived at the gig just as the support act wrapped up. He showed the e-ticket on his phone to security. There was a beep. He walked into the venue.

Inside, he sidled up to the bar, and purchased two straight double vodkas on ice -- one for each hand. He flashed the logistics company's credit card. Fuck 'em, they can pay for his night out. He downed them both on the spot. He looked the bartender in the eye and immediately ordered two more. He took these two drinks with him and made his way toward the stage. He wouldn't be driving anywhere tomorrow. He wanted nothing more than to get smashed and have a good time.

Gorilla hoped the band was good. He was in the mood to rock. Miraculously, he'd almost made his way to the front barricade -- he was maybe two or three bodies back.

The lights dimmed and the main act took the stage.

*

Gorilla immediately recognised the dude striding to the centre of the stage. It was that long-haired metal dude he'd fucked in his rig the last time he was in Atlanta.

Carlos plugged his axe into his amp, and as he connected, everyone heard the electric static buzz of rockshow anticipation. He strode to centre stage and made sure his pedals were working. He hollered into the mic. "Good eeeeeevening, Atlanta, the best city in the fuckin' world!" The crowd swelled and cheered, and he waited for the noise to subside a little. "Thanks for coming out to see us tonight. A wise man once said, 'for those about to rock, we salute you'; and I'll add 'for those who don't know who the fuck we are, you've been missing the fuck out!'"

'Cocky little prick,' thought Gorilla to himself.

"We're 'Ass To Mouth'... let's rock!" declared Carlos. "And this first tune is 'Anal Lollipop'." The crowd roared. He smashed out the opening chords of their current single. The rest of the band chimed in, and the set began.

Gorilla nodded in time to the beat. The opening tune rocked. Maybe it was the near-half a bottle of vodka he'd consumed in about fifteen minutes, but he thought they were pretty good. Needless to say, he loved the band name. He leered at the sexy frontman. 'I'll give this cunt an anal fuckin' lollipop any time he wants one,' he thought to himself.

The band rocked on. Halfway through the set, Carlos took his shirt off. "Fuckin' hot in here tonight, Atlanta!" The crowd cheered.

Gorilla noticed the singer's tight, slim torso, and his cock twitched. 'Gonna get me some of that sexy metal boipussy tonight,' he thought.

Ass To Mouth finished the main part of their show and said goodnight to the crowd. Everyone knew the show wasn't over. The house lights stayed dimmed, and the crowd cheered and chanted in anticipation of an encore. "A2M!!... A2M!!... A2M!!"

Gorilla took this moment to try to force his way to the front of stage. Tonight's prey was well within his sights, and almost within his reach.

The band came back on stage and the crowd's intensity went up another notch. Carlos came back on stage wearing nothing but a tight pair of cut-off denim shorts, a pair of tall leather boots, and his guitar. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail, but as soon as he approached the mic, he let it loose, and it cascaded all the way down his sexy Mexican back.

It was the time of night when Carlos usually began to look for his evening's conquest. Never in a million years would he have expected to see Gorilla standing in the front row.

Carlos noticed him now. They locked eyes. Gorilla leered at him. It was game over for Carlos. There was no point looking for tonight's possession, he knew he was already someone else's.

Carlos played the last three songs of the evening with total abandon, and they finished with their most famous song, 'Starfish.' The house lights went up. "We love you, Atlanta, you fuckin' rock! See you next time!" yelled Carlos. He took his guitar off, gave it to his roadie, and he and his bandmates left the stage to screaming applause. They'd rocked the house down. Their roadies prepared to pack up.

Backstage, Carlos removed cut-offs and cracked open a cold beer. His bandmates did the same, and they clinked bottles. He downed two thirds of his beer in a single slug -- singing metal wasn't easy on the vocal cords!

"Hey guys, tight set tonight," said Carlos. His drummer nodded in agreement. The drummer enjoyed watching Carlos's own tight set as his ass swayed from side to side on stage. He'd never mentioned it to anyone, but the drum riser gave him the perfect view of Carlos's ass. And his drummer had sensed there was something about Carlos's encore performance tonight that was different to normal. Something more electric. Something more sexual.

"Hey dudes, give me a second," said Carlos. He changed into a t-shirt and a pair of ordinary jeans. "I'm just heading back to the stage. I think I've forgotten something."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," mumbled his bandmates. They knew what this meant. Carlos had some guy on a hook, and he was about to reel him in. They weren't expecting to see Carlos again until morning. "Hope he's worth it," the drummer hollered. They waved him goodnight.

He walked back out onto to the stage. The lights were on, blinding. The roadies were hard at work, the venue was nearly empty. Cleaners were collecting empty cans and cups. Gorilla stood there, waiting.

"Hey," said Gorilla.

Carlos climbed down off the stage to stand in the front row with Gorilla. "I thought it was you," he replied.

"Yeah." Gorilla was a man of few words.

They shook hands. Gorilla had a firm handshake and a rough, callused palm. The handshake of a man who worked hard. An awkward pause followed.

"Hot set," congratulated Gorilla. "Never heard of your band before. Love the name."

"Thanks, man. Always nice to hear compliments." Carlos swept his long, sexy hair back. "You don't live here, do you? I've never seen you here before."

"Nah, man," said Gorilla. "I live thousands of miles away. The life of a trucker. I see a lot of warehouses and a lot of road, but not much in between."

Carlos nodded. "So why are you here tonight?"

"My company fucked up. I was meant to pick something up tomorrow, but it's gonna be the next day instead. So I'm stuck here for a night, waiting, with nothing to do."

"Well, I hope my band gave you something to do?"

Gorilla grunted. "Yeah."

Carlos was curious. "How did you find your way here?"

"No fuckin' idea. Just looked up online for something to do in Atlanta tonight. Found a rock show, bought a ticket. Surprised to find it was your band."

They both already knew they were gonna fuck tonight. Gorilla's hand moved to his crotch and adjusted his balls.

Gorilla continued. "I feel bad about kicking you out of my rig that time we met before. Had work to do and needed to get started early. Don't know your name. Name's Gorilla." He extended his hand a second time.

"Umm... I'm Carlos." An awkward pause followed.

"I'm here for the night, man," said Gorilla. "Got nothing to do. But I imagine you're busy and you need to pack up your guitars and amps. Just wanted to say hi. I'll leave you to it," he said, while having absolutely no intention of going anywhere.

"Nah, we got some roadies," explained Carlos. "Well, friends, actually, not roadies. They're people who wish us well and hope we have a good career. They'll lug out for us."

Another awkward pause. Gorilla wasn't sure what to say in response.

Carlos continued. "We just finished a small tour of the south-east and tonight's our last show, so we don't actually have anywhere to be tomorrow. We're on a break. We all live in Atlanta, and I'll be back to my day job on Monday, so..."

"Wanna grab a beer?" interrupted Gorilla.

"Bar across the road from here is OK," suggested Carlos. "And I'm thirsty as fuck."

*

Minutes later, they were perched on bar stools, each with a fresh, cold beer in front of them.

"Thanks for coming to the show tonight, man," Carlos said. "I was surprised to see you. I didn't expect to ever see you again."

"Yeah... same... you too," mumbled Gorilla. He was glad Carlos had conversational skills. Gorilla glanced around the room and looked at the floor.

"You liked our tunes?" Carlos sipped his beer.

"Yeah... I mean, I listen to a lot of metal as I drive across the country, and I'd love to add you guys to my playlist."

"Cool. Give me your phone," said Carlos.

"Uhh... why?"

"So I can add our recent demo recording to your spotify. It got uploaded a few days ago."

Gorilla fumbled in his jeans for his phone. He typed in the code to unlock the handset and gave it to Carlos. Their hands touched again, just briefly, and Gorilla noticed Carlos's black fingernail polish. He watched as Carlos added A2M to his music library. Carlos returned the phone with a smile. "All done," grinned Carlos.

"Yeah. Thanks." Gorilla took a long swig of his beer. He glanced down at Carlos's crotch. He felt the need to keep some small-talk simmering away, but small-talk doesn't come easy to a man who spends most of his time by himself. He lived alone, he worked alone...

Gorilla did his best to keep the conversation flowing. "So... umm... what's it like living in Atlanta? I've been here so many times, but only ever to drop a load late at night, get a few hours of shuteye, and then pick up a new consignment the next morning."

Carlos threw his hair back, exposing his neck. "I can't help you with a consignment in the morning, but I think I can help you drop a load tonight."

Gorilla leered. "I think you can too, boy." He grabbed his crotch. "You were so fuckin' sexy on stage tonight, dancin' around with your shirt off, and then comin' back on for your encore wearing leather boots and that pair of fuckin' daisy dukes."

Carlos leaned forward, breathing in Gorilla's face. "Yeah, I know I was. I was sexy as fuck. Tell me, did I get you hard?"

Gorilla held Carlos's gaze. He could feel blood rushing into his cock.

"You liked the look of my ass tonight?" asked Carlos.

"I didn't see much of it myself, but I bet your drummer got a good eyeful."

"Yeah, he did," responded Carlos. "I know he wants me, but he's too shy to say. But *you* don't seem like the shy type." Carlos drained his beer and licked his lips. "I don't usually bottom. You might be surprised to know you were my first. But you can have me again tonight." He pouted seductively. "If you want me, that is."

"I got a hotel room tonight," replied Gorilla. "It's a little more spacious than the rig. But maybe let's get to know each other a little first." He waved his company's credit card at the bartender, and two fresh beers arrived.

Carlos took a sip. "If you're trying to get me drunk just so you can fuck me, you really don't need to spend any more money. But I'm curious; what do you want to know?"

Gorilla shrugged. "Good question. Don't really know what to ask, to be honest. Just felt like something someone who has normal social skills might say in a regular conversation with someone they don't know. Like... it's just... a general question." He let his guard down a little. "Sorry. I'm not very good with other people," he admitted.

Carlos frowned. "Why's that?"

"Because I drive about 2000 miles each week, alone. The only people I speak to are the freight co-ordinators back at the base, warehouse managers, and roadhouse employees."

"So why do you drive a truck?"

Gorilla didn't have a direct answer to that question. He deflected. "It's not all bad. I like the solitude. It's quiet."

Carlos waited, hoping Gorilla would continue.

Gorilla sighed. "I wasn't good at school. I fucked up way too many times. Worst time was when I got caught having sex in the bathroom. Had my dick buried in the quarterback's asshole and his cock was in my hand when a teacher walked in. Got expelled, and so my parents immediately knew I was gay, and they fuckin' kicked me out of home. They disowned me. To this day, I got no idea where they are, or even if they're still alive, but I don't really care either. I left school, found a place to sleep, and found a job. I can work with my hands, and I'm strong, but that's about it. So I could probably work in a factory, or on a building site, but then I'd have to work with other people, and I don't really want to do that." He paused for a second. These next few words weren't easy for Gorilla to say, but they were cathartic. "I like the quiet. The road is quiet."

A pause.

"Except for music, that is. That's always loud," Gorilla continued. "And there's plenty of sex out there on the road, but it's always anonymous. And I like it that way. No connections. No regrets. No guilt."

Carlos processed. 'Sexy trucker dude,' he thought to himself. 'Wears denim. Drinks beer. Is into metal. Looks, acts and smells like a real man. Is gay. Likes my music. Loves my ass. Ticks every fucking box I have.' Casually, he inquired: "...no boyfriend?"

"Nup. Wouldn't work," said Gorilla. "Too much travelling. Besides, I've never met anyone I'd want to spend a lot of time with. I like my solitude." Another awkward pause as they both sipped their beers. Gorilla asked a question he rarely asked of anyone. "So... can you... tell me a little about yourself?"

"Umm, I don't know what to say, man. Came here from Mexico as a kid with my mom, we might've slipped across the border, but I don't really know, I was too young. I don't really remember my dad. Growing up, I always liked showing off, always liked being the centre of attention, always liked being the life of the party, and I always liked music, so it kind of makes sense that I'm doing what I do."