The Logging Road Pt. 02

*This is Part 2 of the series. Be sure to read Part 1 on my page.*

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Still dripping with cum and saliva, the two men made their way a short distance down a slope, hoping to find a creek to wash up. In these damp Oregon forests, the moss-covered trees dripping with dew, you never have to walk too far before you see a spring, a brook, a river, or even a pond. It didn't take long for Andrew, the older one, in his early thirties, a toned and masculine railroad crewman by trade, to find a small stream.

Making haste, Jason, the smaller black man about ten years his junior, had started removing his clothes to inspect them for any evidence of their previous taboo transgression.

Andrew followed suit, removing his slacks and underwear and kneeling beside the gurgling water. As he scooped up water to hand-scrub and rinse a few saliva stains, he couldn't help but look up, seeing his partner-in-crime squatting down, and cleaning his clothes.

Jason's cocoa-brown rump was fully exposed, and between his flawless, plump glutes was a clean and tight hole. It puckered occasionally as he moved about, inspecting his clothes. But what really drew the attention of the older white man, was the sight of Jason's flaccid dick and balls, dangling vulnerably between his legs. The foreskin-protected penis wagged side to side as the young man moved, but the view was partially obscured by the bulbous testicles, supported in their wrinkly sack. He admired the scrotum as it slowly contracted in the cool, late morning breeze, pulling those egg-shaped balls closer to the warmth and security of his body.

Andrew had a flash memory of extending his finger to touch that meat pouch, it was silky smooth. His own cock started to grow, he looked down between his legs to watch the head poke halfway out of his hood. Then new images popped into his head as he imagined what that puckering hole might feel like if he were to run his fingers across it. There was no time to act upon his sexually intrusive thoughts, they had to get back on the road.

He scooped up some of the frigid water from the stream and started rinsing his sticky cock with it. Almost instantly the flesh recoiled from the shock, retracting into himself.

They both toweled themselves off with some shop rags that Andrew kept in his eight-year-old 1930 Chevrolet Pickup. And then they put their clothes back on, hopped into the truck, and started off, still on their mission to drive into Portland to run errands.

"Stumptown", as it was referred to in those days, was quite a large city, though it couldn't surpass the size and population of Seattle. As the old truck started down a Downtown avenue, Jason leaned his head out of the window, admiring the fiery colors of the urban trees, their Autumn leaves ablaze with hues of red, orange, and yellow. Then towering above them were the massive blocks of masonry structures. Foundations of granite or concrete made up the ground floor, but above that, brick and mortar extended several stories into the sky. It was broken up by neat rows of glass windows and the occasional decorative belt course that ran horizontally and divided the masonry of the structure.

Jason had rarely been to Portland, though he lived within a two-hour drive from it. His family didn't feel safe or even welcome. He marveled at the size of the buildings, and he couldn't help but stare at all manner of citizens who walked the streets. On a street corner stood a small iron and bronze post, a decorative shape with four bowls each with a small fountain of gushing water.

"What is that?" He inquired with giddy curiosity. He pointed at the waist-high fountain on the sidewalk.

The older man ducked his head to peer through the dirty windshield, "Oh, that's a Benson Bubbler, they were installed by the city's richest man some decades ago. Water always flows from them so that folks can get a drink."

Jason nodded, his eyes dancing every which way as he tried to soak in every sight. "How do they make the buildings so tall? Wouldn't they wobble?"

"What?" Andrew cocked an eyebrow and then shook his head, "I dunno how they build 'em. I just suppose they do it somehow. I've been in one of 'em and they're pretty sturdy. No wobbling as far as I could tell." As he scanned the road, he found what he was looking for, "Ah, we're here."

The truck parked parallel to the city walk, and the two men stepped out and into the dull light of the cloudy gray skies. The pedestrians were all manner of folk. Some were gentlemen, dressed in suits and fedoras; ladies sporting their narrow, heavy coats, their hair pinned up under small hats decorated with a bit of lace, ribbon, netting, or sheer. Then there were working-class folk. Men wore their slacks or overalls, and both sexes were wrapped in their faded or worn overcoats.

At the ground level of a high-rise structure was the telegraph office. They both entered and stood in a short line. In the background, they heard one of the clerks say "May I please have the next customer?" One of the women ahead of them then approached the counter and was greeted with a cordial smile. Against the back wall was a row of teleprinters, written messages were being tapped into the loud, humming machines through the mechanical keyboard, and then the messages were sent through the analog cable to their destination. Incoming responses were automatically typed out through the boxy steel beasts.

Jason couldn't help but admire the intricate carving of the decorative woodwork along the clerk windows. As they stood in line, he was facing Andy, he didn't realize how handsome the man looked in his pastel blue long-sleeve shirt and burgundy colored neck tie peeking out of his sandy brown knitted vest. The straw boater hat atop his head framed the sharp, masculine features of his face.

"You there!" The clerk growled at Jason, "I'll help you now."

Jason turned to Andrew, "I'll only be a moment." Then he continued to the window to deliver his message and have a telegram typed into the teleprinter.

Andrew stepped out of the queue and stood near the entrance of the office, his eyes wandered, glimpsing the pricing board, and then landing on the plump little rump of his younger friend. He would look away, but again and again, his gaze would turn back to the hindquarters with which he would later intend to play.

With a receipt and confirmation of his telegram in hand, Jason happily marched toward his older buddy and they left the office together. They would stop off at a local hardware store for Andrew to purchase a few new tools, then off to a department store to get a few things for his mother and wife, and then they drove to a local automat.

The two walked up to the entrance of the automat, through the big windows they could see several tables with patrons eating their pre-cooked meals. Lining three walls in the far back were the rows and rows of automat doors. A customer walked up to a set of windows with a sign above reading "corn chowder", he put a few coins into the slot next to one of the glass doors and the little door popped open, allowing him to take his meal. The building, both interior and exterior, was a stunning example of Art Deco style. There were only curved corners to walls and rooms, the ceiling had a curved recess where hidden lights created a bright halo that filled the room. Chromed metal features made the building glimmer, and the fantastic curved patterns cut and inlaid into the korkoid floors had given the automat diner a unique quality.

As the two men entered and started for the meal windows, the patrons at the tables were giving Jason scowls.

"You!" said a burly man with a dirty apron. He was pointing at Jason, "You'll have to go elsewhere, we don't have anything for you."

All eyes were on Jason, who studied the situation carefully; his body tensing up with anticipation.

Andrew looked around, his mouth partly open in shock before speaking up, "I...I'm paying for him, sir."

"Not here, you're not."

"My apologies, Mister," Andrew was confused by this interaction, but tried to clear things up, "but we're only here to get a bite to eat and then we'll be on our way. We're not here for trouble."

The cook offered a stern glare at the both of them, "If you don't want trouble, you boys just turn around and head back out that door."

Andrew stood there silently for a moment, blinking.

The cook took an aggressive step forward.

Andrew stretched his left arm out and took a side step, getting between Jason and the cook.

"Alright, Sir, alright. We're goin'."

Putting an arm around Jason's shoulder, Andrew led the way out and back to the truck, keeping his head on a swivel and glancing behind his back.

The young black man was staring out the windshield of the truck as it rolled down the avenue, his eyes glassy and empty. He stirred with a single blink and turned to look at his friend. The older man had both hands on the steering wheel, his grip tightening and loosening in a continuous cycle, and his brow was still furrowed; he was lost in thought.

"Relax, Andy," he said. "You look more shocked than I do."

He shook his head slowly, he didn't know what to say or how to react. Finally, he just responded, "I...I've never been in that kind of situation before."

"You get used to it."

He shot a concerned expression at his little friend. His adrenaline was still rushing and he barked, "Doesn't it even bother you?!"

Jason snapped, "Of course it does! Wouldn't it bother you? But there's nothing I can do about it. You just learn to avoid those situations and get on with your life. If you let it get to you, it'll wear you down until there's nothing left." He scanned the downtown streets as they crossed the intersections. "One day, hopefully, things will be different, and people like him can't do that to people like me. But for now, this is life. This has been life."

'This has been life', Andrew thought to himself, running the phrase over and over again in his mind. Those four words painted a rather desolate picture of Jason's reality, the reality for others like him.

Jason peered up at his friend, who was now clearly shaken and unable to make sense of things. He cracked a smile and nudged Andrew's arm with his elbow.

"I'm still hungry, so you know...if you're still offering to pay, I wouldn't argue over a sandwich."

Andrew took a moment to meet his eyes, and couldn't help but grin back. "You got it!"

Before long, Andy had stopped at a deli and came back out holding two freshly made Pastrami sandwiches. They parked the truck near the wharf. They saw tugboats and log bundles floating down the Willamette, their steam whistles chirping and honking in communication. Like most big cities, Portland wasn't all good, but when you found the right spot, it was quite something.

The truck started up and they headed out, hastily making their way back to the safety and familiarity of the forests. On the way back to town, the paving of the road ran out, and soon they were back on the dusty path they started out from, going deep into the logging woods southeast of the city of roses.

They were about halfway home, way out in the backwoods, when Andrew turned down a narrow logging road, a different one this time. He wanted to make sure not to return to the last area, lest they find out they were previously spotted and someone was waiting for them to come back. The old truck pulled up to a concealed spot just off the road, it overlooked a rocky crevasse with a stream running through it. The dense trees and overgrowth made for a dimly-lit environment. It didn't help that the overcast skies opened up into light rain showers.

Jason was asleep on the passenger side, leaning against the window with his butt facing the driver. He looked so peaceful and serene. No doubt, the massive sandwich had knocked him out.

Andrew set his hand on the young man's hip, gently stroking it in circles. Through the slacks, he could feel that round ass he saw earlier that morning. He remembered what it looked like with the cheeks spread and the tight hole visible. It didn't make sense to him why this turned him on so much, but it did, and he felt he had to see more. With his thumb, he pressed into the meat of his booty, feeling how firm but yielding it was. Though Jason was a man at the age of twenty-one, he was still just a boy, all things considered. So youthful, so delicate. Andrew's cock began to stiffen within his baggy trousers. He continued rubbing and squeezing the round ass.

"Mmmhm," Jason moaned as his eyes slowly blinked open. "Oh, Jesus. I'm stuffed."

Andy shot a dangerous look at him, "Not yet you aren't." He then slid his hand down the trousers to feel the plump ass, skin-to-skin. It was silky smooth, so round and full. Surges of blood filled his own cock when he passed his fingertips over Jason's crack, he didn't push in, not yet. He just glided his hand between the cheeks just to feel the mounds of flesh.

The young man slowly sat up, making Andrew pause. Jason reached for Andy's shirt, unbuttoning it, and exposing the man's chest. It was slightly toned with hair between the pecs and some hair around the areolas. As his eyes scanned downward, he could see a tuft of wiry hair leading from his navel down into his slacks. His skin was so soft and pale, not as gold as his arms and hands, but still attractive. Jason began kissing his chest, landing one after another across his masculine flesh, bringing his hands up and stroking his whole torso just to enjoy his body.

Andrew began unbuttoning Jason's shirt, exposing his chocolate skin; hairless, and slick as satin. His large nipples were tender and puffy, and he had very little muscle tone, all of this gave him a somewhat feminine or androgynous appearance. As he began to unbutton Jason's slacks, the young man stood on his knees to help ease the pants down, exposing his soft cock which hung in front of his face. Andrew noticed some pubic hair on him, mostly towards the base of the cock. He was getting so hard just looking at the black cock in front of him, knowing that he was being allowed full access to it...there was no one around to judge him, to shame him, this cock was for him to enjoy in privacy.

Jason leaned over the man, hoping to caress the left side of his body, but being in such close proximity, he suddenly felt lips on his own nipple. Andrew was sucking and licking his areola, he could feel every ripple of the tongue, every microscopic feature of it sliding against the highly sensitive skin. He let out a moan, almost falling back from the pleasure.

"Does it feel good?" Andrew asked with a cooing voice.

"Yes!" he choked out.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes sir," he groaned. "It feels so good. Please don't stop!"

Andrew switched to the other nipple, rubbing the wet one with his thumb. He licked and licked, like a canine grooming him, then he sucked hard like he was nursing from it. The chest heaved with the heavy breaths, pushing his nipple into his face.

Jason felt his hand slide down his back, slowly heading to his plump ass cheeks. The other hand met it there, and both groped and massaged those bulbous globes. Andrew's hands felt so strong, squeezing his ass with all his might. Jason wasn't sure if his partner was really that strong, or if all men were, but knowing how Andrew spent his days wielding heavy sledgehammers, shovels, and pickaxes it wasn't exactly a surprise.

He bent Jason over his lap, giving his ass a thoughtful spank, watching the cheeks jiggle like a dense Jell-O. Then he slapped the other cheek. He heard the boy groan and felt l his cock swell against his thigh. With another strike against the firm cheeks, he helped the young man back onto his knees.

Feeling something soft as a feather touching his stomach, Andrew looked down to see the boy's cock starting to grow. As the dick came in contact with his skin, it deposited its clear pre-cum from the tip. Wanting to take advantage of this, he opened the driver-side door to stand outside the truck, giving Jason room to lay on his back and dangle his legs out of the vehicle. The cock was getting thicker but still bent down with gravity. He took the cock between his thumb and index finger, pointed it toward the heavens, and brought his own mouth down upon it.

It was difficult for Andy to compare just how soft the skin on Jason's cock felt to any other skin texture he's experienced before. It was like the skin on puffy nipples...softer than lips, softer than the skin on the neck, softer than the lids of the eyes. And delicate, he was afraid that if he was too rough with the dick, he might hurt poor Jason. Andrew wasn't quite sure what compelled him to put the dripping rod in his mouth, probably the same compulsion that makes men want to place their mouths on a pussy, the desire to get such a full experience, that they must also taste it too. He didn't want to think too much about it, he just wanted to feel that cock in his mouth and to feel the power of giving someone else pleasure. It turned out he enjoyed sucking dick, the shape was satisfying, much like the large peppermint candy sticks he used to get at the Portland confectionery. It was very thick, but it also was comforting and relaxing just feeling it going in and out of the mouth; it calmed him.

Jason had never had a blowjob before. He never had relations with a girl, and in fact, the only relations he ever had prior to Andy was another man who stroked his dick. The feeling of Andrew's lips gliding up his pole, tightening into the crevice below the edge of the head, and then expanding out again as those lips slid over the pronounced ridge of glans, was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

The boy let out a soft whimper.

Andrew gracefully slid his mouth off of the cock, continuing to stroke it afterward, and then lowering his face so that his nose was pressed into the young man's scrotum. This was another behavior that he couldn't make sense of. He didn't know why he wanted to feel the sack on his face, nor why he inhaled so deeply just then. His desire revealed itself to be animalistic, and he released any inhibition that prevented him from exploring this willing body. When would he ever get a chance to do this again? To have another man give himself so willingly, with no desire to fight or fend him off, but to embrace this sexual act.

His tongue stuck out, landing on the testicle from the bottom and then lifting it up. Jason moaned. Andrew repeated this with the other testicle, lifting it with his tongue and feeling gravity pull it back down again. Continuing to lick the scrotum from the bottom, he was determined to reach the lowest point so he could keep lapping at those balls. Lower, lower, lower he went, and before he knew it, the sack was resting on the bridge of his nose...one testicle resting against each eyelid. His tongue continued to lick, it found a depression in his flesh, and when he pushed in further to find the next surface, he discovered a very hard circle with a wrinkled texture.

Jason moaned louder this time. His breathing became sporadic, and his mouth emitted little whines and squeaks of excitement.

This compelled him to keep licking at this new surface. He couldn't see it, what with his scrotum blocking his view. His mind's eye tried to make sense of it, he kept picturing a vagina. It took a moment for it to register that there was no way this could be a pussy. The licking stopped. Andrew came to the realization that he was in-between those round ass cheeks and that the stiff pussy he imagined he was licking, was actually the tightness of this boy's anus. Andy remembered how earlier that day, he wanted to feel it. To know how tight it was. Now he was tasting it, and surprising enough, it tasted no different than the rest of him.

"Is something wrong?" Jason called from beyond the other side of the ball sack.