Journey Thru Abilene Ch. 05-06

The bus stopped at a gas station-convenience store just off the highway in the middle of nowhere for a lunch break. There was a small dining room off the lunch counter with only three tables. The young woman didn't leave the bus, but the elderly ladies took one table and the Hispanic family another, and Glade sat down at the third after he'd gotten his burger and fries.

The two cowboys sat down at his table.

"Hi, I'm Tex," the older one said as he sat down. "This here's Dusty." They were both wearing the traditional ten-gallon cowboy's hat and Dusty just tipped his hat at Glade without saying anything. But he had a big grin on his face.

"Hi, I'm Glade," he answered.

"Glade. That's an unusual name," Tex said.

"Yeah. I sorta picked it out myself," Glade said. "Didn't much care for what I'd been called before that." He didn't tell them that it was his stage name and that he'd picked it off an air-freshener can. All of the pole dancers picked out names that the customers would find intriguing and easy to remember. Most picked out suggestive or downright explicit names. Glade had wanted to be a bit more subtle with his.

"Goin' far?" Tex asked.

"All the way to Denver on this ride," Glade answered.

"Dusty and me are gettin' off in Durango. We work a cattle ranch west of there. Been down in Abilene to see the sights. Were you in Abilene long or just passing through from somewheres else?"

"I was there a couple of months," Glade answered. He was feeling a little disconcerted. Dusty wasn't saying anything, but his leg was touching Glade's, and the young man felt those old yearnings building up inside him. Dusty was a real hunk. The strong silent type. And he was touching Glade's leg. Any man who touched him set him going a bit. It was the conditioning of what he'd been doing for months.

"Found something to do in Abilene, did you?" Tex asked. He was eyeing Glade with those piercing blues of his. It made the young dancer scared to lie.

"Oh, this and that," Glade answered.

"You look kinda familiar, like we've seen you before. Dusty was remarking on that when we saw you climb into the bus. Spent any time around the tenderloin district around North 1st Street? That's mostly where Dusty and me sat drinkin' our beers. Place called Rapier mostly. Any chance we'd have seen you there?"

"I've heard of it," Glade answered in a rather tight voice. More than heard of it. Glade had pole danced there. He wondered if Tex was establishing something with him—not just about him, but about Tex and Dusty too. You didn't go into Rapier looking for women.

Tex started to say something else, but the bus driver was tooting his horn, and it was time for all of the passengers to make that last rest stop and to return to the bus.

When they climbed back into the bus, Dusty returned to his seat, but Tex followed Glade back to where he'd been sitting and sat down in the aisle seat right next to him.

The driver started up the bus and got back onto the road. Glade tried to settle his nerves. Tex's leg was right up against Glade's, as was his upper arm. Glade could feel the hardness of the man's lean body through his checkered shirt. Glade was wearing an athletic T, so his biceps were bare. Just a thin layer of shirting between the young dancer and Tex's hard, warm skin.

"Born and raised in Texas?" Tex asked.

"No," Glade responded. "Lived here and there before that—mostly in the South, on the coast. A place called Beaufort, in South Carolina."

"Family in Texas or in Denver? Going to Denver to visit family?" Tex asked.

"No. No family," Glade answered. "No family . . . anywhere."

"None at all?" Tex asked. His face was turned to Glade and his pale blue eyes were full of sympathy.

"No. I was an orphan. Floated around a lot. A couple of foster families, but not anything I'd want to talk much about." Glade certainly didn't want to talk about those foster families. If he'd gone down a bent path, it could all be traced back to that part of his life. He'd had a pretty rough life up to now; it looked like the only way he could go from here was up. Glade turned his head toward the window. His eyes had suddenly gotten a little watery, and he didn't want Tex to see that.

"No one at all waitin' for you in Denver, either?" Tex asked. His voice was soft, full of concern.

"No. No one at all," Glade answered. "Just startin' out again. I do that a lot. I start out again a lot."

Glade was still looking out the window, but he could see the reflection of Tex's face in the window, as he thought Tex could see his.

He had a hand on Glade's thigh, just above the knee now, and Glade was sure Tex could feel him trembling.

"Just relax, Glade," Tex was whispering to him. "You're so tense. I can help you with that."

His voice had gotten low and guttural and his hand had moved up Glade's thigh and was gripping him hard.

"Nice name, Glade," he was murmuring. "An unusual name. I think I saw that on a poster at Rapier. Not a name you'd forget too fast. Not a body, either. Some even had distinctive markings. Dusty and me like tattoos. We've got 'em all over our bodies. Would like to show them to you. Would you like that?"

Glade's trembling increased. Tex had fingers at his waistband now, very near his belly, with the grip of that other hand still on his upper thigh.

"Tex . . ." Glade said in a choked voice.

"Shush, it'll be fine. No one can see us back here." Tex stripped off his shirt to reveal full-body tattooing in a riot of colors and patterns against a rock-hard muscled chest. "Do you like my tattoos, Glade? If I remember rightly, you have a very nice one yourself. Somewhere near here, wasn't it? That's what I remember of you on that pole, dancin' away. That nice little tattoo. A rosebud, isn't it?"

He was pulling the T out of Glade's shorts and a finger was moving across the young man's belly and his thumb was on the rosebud tattoo. He was rubbing it and his other hand was on Glade's basket, and Glade was falling apart.

"Happy day. You're just aching for it, ain't you?" Tex muttered through his heavy breathing. "Hot damn, you harden up fast." His hand snaked under the waistband of Glade's gym shorts and he was pulling them down below the young man's balls. Glade's dick was standing straight up, betraying his arousal from Tex's thumbing on the rosebud tattoo.

"Tex . . ."

"So tense. We must do somethin' about that," Tex was whispering. His ten-gallon hat came off and he dropped it onto Glade's lap, fisted the young man's cock under it, and started to slow pump him. Glade turned his face to Tex, and the cowboy could tell from the look in Glade's eyes that the young man was lost to him. He leaned over and gave Glade a kiss and then he just pulled away and the two sat there, staring into each other's eyes from six inches away, their cheeks resting on the nubby material of the seat backs. Tex then slowly beat the young man off, enjoying the look in Glade's eyes as he was transported by the hand job.

"You can touch my tattoos, Glade. Go ahead."

Glade tentatively, involuntarily reached out with his fingers and ran them over the markings on the cowboy's hard chest. His nipples were taut—ready for Glade. Tex could feel the trembling of Glade's fingers as he got lost in the sensuousness of the cowboy's tattooing.

When Glade had jacked off up into Tex's hat, the cowboy gave a little laugh and leaned over and kissed Glade again. Then he stood up in the aisle and rummaged around in the overhead compartment. He opened a duffle bag he had up there and took something out and then reached up and pulled down a blanket.

"Time for a little nap, don't ya think?" he said, and then he winked at Glade.

What he'd gotten out of his bag was a condom packet and a small tube of lubricant. When he sat back down, he leaned over and pulled down on the waistband of Glade's gym shorts and, out of instinct, the rent-boy raised his hips for Tex so that he could strip them off.

Glade knew what was happening, but still he made some effort to resist. He was trying his best to get beyond Abilene. "Tex . . . No, I don't think . . ."

"Shush," he whispered. "I wanted to do this back in Rapier. But you'd gone off with some other customer before I could get to you. Come on. You know you want it. Look at what I got for you." He unbuttoned his jeans and fished out a nice plump cock, already hard. Tattooing wound down around that too, and Glade moaned.

But still he fought the cravings. "Here? Now?" he asked incredulously. "There isn't much room . . ."

"Hush. We'll manage. Just don't do much yelling. They always yelp for me. Just try to keep it quiet like. Too bad it's dark in here and we have to use the blanket. They always like to see the designs on my pecker disappearing into their holes. You know you can see them through the rubbers. I buy ones that you can do that with."

"Tex . . ."

But he just kept going. Glade watched as Tex opened the condom packet and rolled the transparent condom on his cock. Then he slathered himself with lube. He covered the two of them with the blanket and turned Glade toward the window onto his hip. Glade felt the cold lubricant at his hole and searching and stretching fingers. The palm of the cowboy's other hand was on Glade's belly, his thumb was on the blue rose tattoo, and he was rubbing it. All of the resistance drained out of Glade. It was almost as though Tex knew that that was the key to Glade's ass channel.

Glade shuddered as Tex worked his hips under Glade's, both of them turned toward the window. And then Tex was entering Glade, slowly, but relentlessly—showing the young rent-boy that indeed they could do it in bus seats. He slowly pumped up into Glade's ass. His thumb was stroking the rosebud tattoo, and his young prey was moaning and sighing softly for him. Glade's head was against the cool window, and he watched the desert landscape drift by, as in another dimension he could also see the reflection of Tex's face and see how deeply he was enjoying the fuck.

Glade pretty much cleared his mind, enjoying the fuck himself, but being frustrated that he was doing so. Why was it so hard to leave Abilene and all that was Abilene so far behind, he wondered.

Tex left Glade under the blanket with no more than a kiss on the neck and a pat on his naked butt cheek. He pulled his shirt back on, buttoned up, and went back up and sat down with Dusty. The two of them whispered in low tones and laughed.

Near dusk the bus stopped for dinner and a change in drivers at a stop almost identical to the lunch stop, and Glade got a burger and fries from the fast food counter and took it out and ate it standing up by the gas pumps. As he ate, the young woman stumbled out of the bus, looking dazed and her eyes all puffed up. She came back moments later with a sack of food and climbed back up in the bus. Glade wondered what her story was and whether it was any rougher than his. It made Glade feel a little better, if a little guilty, that there may be folks in the world worse off than he was.

In Glade's case, he enjoyed the cocking. Couldn't get enough of it really. What he was having trouble with was the guilt of enjoying it and wanting more of it. That and the somewhat downtrodden feeling that he was being taken advantage of all of the time. What he really needed and wanted was just one guy. An older man, maybe. One with a good income who would stick by him and give him a somewhat normal life. He'd want the man to be virile and have a nice cock, though. Glade knew himself enough to know he didn't want to stop the cocking. Maybe in Denver. Surely in Denver that's what he'd find.

But then he thought of Dean, the Marine back in South Carolina, the Marine he was traveling toward now. Who was he kidding? That's who he really wanted. But Dean had left him. He'd been thrown out of Beaufort, but he'd never tried to contact Glade afterward. No, he'd find Dean again, but he doubted he'd end up with him. It would be some older man—someone who would be good to him and keep him protected from all this. Maybe someone with a remote ranch that would keep Gordy—no longer Glade—out of the big cities, where he was vulnerable.

When they got back on the bus, Glade waited until Tex and Dusty had gotten on and settled themselves before he climbed into the bus. He wasn't in the mood for Tex to visit him again—at least not this soon. Tex cocked real well, though, and those tattoos of his were a real turn on, so Glade thought he wouldn't mind having him again at some point.

Dusk turned into night, and Glade managed to go to sleep, huddled under the blanket that Tex had covered the two of them with earlier in the day.

It was quite dark when Glade felt a nudge on his shoulder and swam up from a groggy, unsatisfying sleep into the grinning face of Dusty.

"Come on," he whispered. "Want to show you something in the back of the bus." He'd already stripped off his shirt and he was almost as tattooed as Tex was. He was covered in a swirled design, some of which curved under the bulge of his pecs and made them stand out and emphasize how well-defined he was there.

Glade struggled up, knowing full well what Dusty wanted to show him, but Dusty was already reaching down and palming the young man's belly under his T, and the touch was enough for Glade to want what Dusty was going to give him.

Dusty followed behind Glade to the backseat of the bus, a bench seat that stretched the width of the bus carriage, with the palm of his hand on Glade's belly and his forefinger rubbing that rosebud tattoo. Glade's knees were going to jelly, and he was whimpering, his dick hardening and forming precum, the rim of his hole already puckering.

When they reached the back of the bus, Dusty scooted into the seat all the way into the corner, pulled Glade down onto the center of the seat, a good two and a half feet from him, unbuttoned the fly of his jeans, and pulled a thick, stubby cock out. He reached for one of Glade's wrists and pressed Glade's palm to his chest so the young man could feel how hard Dusty's nipples were for Glade, and he moved Glade's other hand to the root of his cock. Then he wrapped a hand around Glade's neck and brought the young man's face down to his cock. Glade started giving Dusty head. He was good at it.

Dusty didn't say anything. He just sat there and moaned and sighed softly, with his hand on the back of Glade's head, guiding the young man, and his hips slowly rolling up as Glade deep throated him and his stubby cock slowly became not in the least bit stubby.

After Glade had gotten him all hot and bothered, Dusty turned the young rent-boy full length on his belly on the backseat, one of Glade's legs hanging down, the ball of his foot leveraging on the floor of the bus to keep him steady in the tossing and turning motion of the bus, which was more pronounced at the back. Then he pulled Glade's gym shorts off his legs, crowned his own cock with a condom, and straddled Glade's hips. He began using Glade as rent-boys were created to be used, fucking down in his ass to an ejaculation.

Dusty had both of Glade's arms pinned behind his back, holding his wrists together with one strong hand, holding him quite immobile and giving him the feeling of being taken almost against his will in a dark, enclosed corner of the world, which gave Glade a little thrill.

They were both breathing hard when Dusty was done, but Glade knew Dusty wasn't finished. He knew these young, virile cowboys with their hard and hard-worked bodies. Glade had had them by the hundreds, it seemed, in Abilene on their one night a month off and coming into town to get their rocks off. Dusty had shot off, Glade could tell, but he was still hard. Glade had known of guys like him who could recharge and fountain off three times before they went soft. Just one night of relief a month that wasn't self-initiated for a young cowboy can build up a whole lot of cum.

And, sure enough, Dusty was pulling Glade up. Not dislodging his cock, which had lengthened out to gigantic proportions. He struggled up into a sitting position, with Glade lapped, his lips and teeth working the young rent-boy's shoulder blades and the hollow of Glade's neck, his hands wrapped around the young man's belly, a finger pressing into that rosebud tattoo. Almost in a frenzy himself again, not least at watching the muscles roll on those tattooed arms encasing him, Glade started fucking himself on Dusty's impaling cock in long strokes. One of Dusty's hands snaked around and fisted Glade's cock, and they came almost simultaneously, all the time softly moaning and groaning, careful not to project the sounds of sex toward the front of the bus.

Glade looked up as they climaxed—and into Tex's eyes and then down to his naked, tattooed chest. Tex had come back to watch the second fucking and was leaning over the seat, knees on the seat bottom, and face almost touching Glade's. His pale blue eyes were alight with lust. He leaned in and took Glade's lips with his as Glade spouted off onto the back of the bus seat in front of him.

Dusty pulled out from underneath Glade and, after a little whispering session with Tex, moved back up the aisle. When he got to Glade's now-empty seat, he picked up the blanket and brought it back and draped it over the aisle between two seats a couple of rows up from the back. In the darkness, no one from the front of the bus could see what was happening in the aisle beyond that blanket, and the interior of the bus was so dark they couldn't even have told the aisle was blocked unless they were coming back to use the bathroom in the rear corner.

Tex pulled Glade over and planted his butt in the center of the backseat, lifted his ankles to the tops of the separated aisle seats in front of the backseat, crouched between his thighs, and fucked him long and deep. Dusty sat there, turned around in an aisle seat in front of the backseat, and watched the action. And when Tex was done, Dusty replaced him again, turning Glade and pressing his head and chest into the center seat of the backseat, his rump pointed up the aisle, and doggy fucked him.

They left Glade wondering if maybe they hadn't had any success in getting their rocks off while they were in Abilene. And leave Glade they did, to stumble back to his seat on his own, exhausted and stretched and sore—but well-fucked and happy. This wasn't anything Glade hadn't endured on any given night in David's club.

He thought he had left that behind. He hadn't.