What They Don't Know

They remained naked as they ate the sandwiches and drank the beer Young had brought. They were crouched down on their haunches, backs against the walls, across the room from each other, not saying much of anything, just taking each other in with their eyes. Young was starting to go heavy as a good many college football players do, but he still was muscular. He gymed and golfed and played tennis regularly. He had a ruddy complexion and his body was covered with a reddish-blond fuzz. He had his hair in a buzz cut because it was starting to recede from the center to the sides on his head. He'd come dressed for Realtor business—a business suit that he had carefully folded when they'd stripped. He sat against the wall, with his knees spread, his cock thick, still in erection, angrily projecting out and curved a bit up from a flaming red, unruly pubic bush. He made no effort to hide himself from Josh. This was the fourth time he'd fucked the boy in the last two months. Josh had every reason to be intimately familiar with every square inch of the man.

And it hadn't just been Young. He was in a club. They'd all had Josh one evening, together, in a club member's basement recreation room, on his pool table. That had netted Josh a thousand dollars and fully open, sore ass. He remembered that session when he took a dump for the next week. There wasn't much Josh hadn't experienced in the last year. And yet, with his age, size, and sunny disposition, he always gave the impression he was fresh and barely beyond innocence.

Young was fondling his cock and his balls while he ate, keeping himself hard and throbbing. "That was good. Very nice."

"The sandwich?"

"No, not the sandwich, Josh. The fuck."

"I'm glad you thought so."

"Satisfying. But I'm still hard, as you see. Not fully satisfied yet. We're already here. You don't need to be dropped off for another half hour."

"Fifty dollars. Another fifty dollar," Josh said.

Young smiled. He wiped his hands with a napkin, set the remnants of his sandwich aside, fished his wallet out of his folded trousers on the stack of clothes within his reach, and took two twenties and a ten out. He fanned them out for Josh to see and then folded them and tossed the wad a few feet toward the other wall, where Josh was squatting.

"Come here. Sit on it," he said.

Josh slowly unfolded from where he was sitting and sauntered forward. A can of lube and a string of condom packets were on the carpet by where Young was sitting and he tossed the can to Josh while he slit open a condom packet. Josh reached around with a handful of lube and greased up his hole while Young crowned himself. It was all a routine. They'd done this before. The can went back to Young and he lubed his sheathed shaft.

Young was sitting, his buttocks extending from the wall, his shoulder blades against the wall, and his legs bent and spread. Putting his hands on Young's shoulders, Josh crouched down into the man's lap. There was groaning and a bit of gasping, and low moaning as Josh descended on the shaft Young held steady with one hand encasing the base of his cock. They held there for a few moments as Josh's passage stretched to accommodate the cock once more. Then Young grasped Josh's slim waist between his hands, Josh leaned back, between Young's bent legs, and placed his palms on the carpet behind him, and they both concentrated on the fuck—Young raising and lowering the teenager's body with his hands on Josh's waist, and Josh using the support of his hands and the leverage of his feet to help with the rise and fall of the cock inside his ass.

They started slow, but the fuck became intense, with both of them gasping and panting and groaning and grunting, and Josh flailing about and digging his fingernails in Young's shoulders as Young slammed him up and down on the shaft. With cries—Josh's tenor against Young's bass—they announced and celebrated their near-simultaneous comings. Josh wasn't into sex with men just for the money.

"That's what I like about you," Young murmured as they held afterward, cooling down, each concentrating on Young going flaccid inside Josh's channel. "You're a regular little firecracker."

They showered in the master bath together, Young knowing the water to the house was still on because he was one of the listing agents. Young wanted them to shower together and Josh had agreed. Young also wanted to fuck Josh again in the shower, but Josh said, "I got a long trip ahead. We can hook up again when I get back from Roanoke."

He didn't want to wear himself out on what was just the first leg of a randy men-assisted hitchhike across southern Virginia.

Just under two hours out of Farmville, fifteen minutes before noon, a quarter of the way to Roanoke, Josh was a bit sore but ready for the big one on the next leg, and already over $300 to the good, including the bus fair and Mason Young's need to have seconds. A lot of men in one day, but Josh had taken six in a couple of hours on a pool table in a man's basement not more than three weeks before. He could do this.

Piece of cake.

* * * *

Mason Young drove Josh to the parking lot of the McLean House in Appomattox. This was a historical preservation of the house where the southern commander, Robert E. Lee formally surrendered to the northern commander Ulysses S. Grant to end the American Civil War, and here Young surrendered Josh to his next ride—and to be ridden, and ridden hard—on the boy's hitchhike to Roanoke.

It was less than a three-hour drive from Josh's family's house in Farmville to Uncle Paul's farm near Roanoke and would probably cost $18 in gas money for a car or $50 for bus ticket money, if a bus went between the two towns—at least that's how much Josh's dad gave him to buy a ticket on a nonexistent bus. Josh planned to make the trip in seven hours, though, and to make about $750 off the trip. He already was $150 up on his estimation because Mason Young had paid him a $50 premium for seconds, a fuck that Josh had enjoyed enough to have done it for free. The whole scheme was to make enough money to buy the Xbox One console his parents had said he couldn't have—that they couldn't afford and that they thought he was getting too old to want.

He would have to lie under four men—well, five, really—to get all of this done. Each of four men, each driving him on a half-hour or forty-minute segment of the journey were going to pay him to fuck a willing, small, and trim nineteen-year-old guy they'd met and conversed with—and shared photos and preferences with—on the Internet. They had to drive him on the road and, for a price, they could drive him for an hour where and how they liked.

Three of them had signed up for a $200 fee. The fourth, the one taking the Appomattox-to-Lynchburg segment of the trip, was paying $300. There was a special reason for that. He had specified how demanding he was going to be.

Josh, who had already experienced a lot, was looking forward to these demands with both trepidation and arousing anticipation.

Carter Bell was sitting in his 2019 BMW i8 coupe in the McLean House parking lot when Mason Young let Josh off. Josh had been told what car to look for, and he'd seen the vehicle in the lot, but he hadn't told Young about the car. He didn't want these guys connecting with each other. He had Young drive on by and over to the nearby courthouse to let him off.

"I don't see him here yet," Josh said, as he opened the passenger door of the Escalade. "I'll walk around a bit. You can go on back to Farmville."

"You sure? You'll be OK?"

"Was I OK?"

"You know you were, kid. I could ride you all day. You're a great lay. You'll call me when your vacation is over and you're back in Farmville, won't you? You're an itch I want to keep on scratching. I'll get the guys together for another bang-up marathon."

"Yeah, sure. I'll be on the Internet." I'll also be playing on my new Xbox One, Josh thought. He watched Young drive away and then walked back to the fancy BMW sports car. As he walked into the parking lot, Carter Bell flashed his lights to let Josh know he saw and recognized him. Josh walked right over to the driver's window, which was down, palmed the top ridge of the shiny panels on either side of the window, and looked down into Carter Bell's handsome black face. "Banker10/2?" he asked.

"Chris19?" Bell responded. Neither one of them, of course, had given out real names on the deep Web hookup services they played in. Both were revealing something important about themselves though with their Net handles. An ebony arm came out of the window, grabbed the front of Josh's T-shirt and pulled the young man's face down to where the man inside could take him into a tongue-invading kiss. Having brought the teenager into position, the hand snaked under the hem of Josh's T-shirt and glided up his slim chest to latch onto a nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Obviously, the sex play on the Internet hadn't been enough. The man already wanted to start exploring the youth's nubile body.

The $300 fee for this segment of the journey was both because the man told Josh he wanted to do him rough and what he told him he would be doing it with. Josh had more than half assumed that the ten inches long and two inches thick part of the man's account name was an exaggeration and he wasn't even fully convinced when the photos had been exchanged. You could be quite convincing with photoshop. Men didn't have cocks that big, not slender, not particularly tall, men like Banker10/2.

"Get in," the black man said gruffly when he'd released Josh's mouth. The teenager walked around the car, opened the passenger door, tossed his backpack in the tiny excuse for a backseat, and climbed in, finding the interior space of the sports car as confining as it appeared to be from the outside. At least he wasn't going to be fucked in the car, he thought, although his mind immediately went into contemplating how they could get into a position in that low-slung coupe interior that would enable the black guy to get his big dick inside him. Josh shuddered at the thought.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to be manhandled in the car. Bell nearly covered him right there in the front seat, going for his mouth again, fondling Josh's basket and moving Josh's hand to his own crotch to assure Josh that he was fully as advertised. Josh gasped at finding how hung the man was. He didn't look like he would be. He was quite slender, although well muscled, and not particularly tall. He just had a monster between his legs. He was black as ebony and strikingly handsome. His clothes appeared to be as expensive as his car. The handle of "banker" might be giving Josh a clue how he made his money, but Josh didn't want to pursue that question too hard. The man had explored most of Josh's body with his hands before they even left the parking lot.

"You're a little guy, aren't you? Really are nineteen, aren't you?" Bell said when he'd released Josh's lips.

"Yes, I'm nineteen," Josh assured him. He would have shown his driver's license to prove it, if he had to, but then he would have risked revealing his real name. He wanted to say, you really are bull hung, aren't you? But he didn't. This was going to be something else. Marcus the black garage mechanic in Farmville had told Josh he'd manage to open up to a big cock right before he'd put one in Josh and it had happened and Josh had survived—and been proud of what he'd been able to sheath—so as fearful as he was about this Banker10/2, he was aroused about the adventure this would be. The man had said he'd tie Josh up during sex and that it would give Josh an extra rush to have that done. And he was being paid $300 for the adventure.

"Beautiful fuckin' little body," the man murmured. "I'm going to ravish it. I'm going to bind and use you until you melt."

Josh responded with a moan and a shudder, which pleased Bell.

It wasn't just the big cock that Bell was paying extra for. It was the manner of the fuck as well. It was just a twenty-mile drive from Appomattox into Lynchburg and they drove it in thirty-five nearly silent, brooding minutes. Bell drove them right into the center of Lynchburg, to the Craddock Terry Hotel. He had money and he spent money. He'd already checked in.

"Here's the pass key. Go on up first. Be naked when I get there. Leave the door ajar. We'll play this like you being surprised and raped. Try to convince me."

Josh was naked, stretched out on the bed, when Bell entered the room.

"Hey, who are you? What do you want?" Playing the part, Josh rolled off the bed on the side away from the door, but before he could rise to move anywhere else, Bell was on top of him. The first forceful taking was right there on the floor next to the bed, Josh naked and bell just unzipped, long, thick cock out, and spiking Josh right there. The youth was told he should struggle and he did, uselessly, until giving up and lying there docilely and gasping, now believing that the man was as hung as his photos showed, while Bell took what he wanted.

After that first taking, the man spent time exploring the youth's body on the bed, him remaining dressed, until Josh was hot and bothered and eventually begging for it. The man had restraints and bound Josh's wrists and ankles and then teased the teenager with curve and crevice exploration. Bell had two fingers of one hand in the boy's ass and Josh was sucking on the thumb of the other hand before Bell finished the initial foreplay.

Josh was panting hard when Bell left the bed, laid a sheet of white paper on the desk by the bed, spread out a few lines of cocaine, and asked Josh if he wanted a snort. Josh didn't. Bell did.

Then Bell stood by the bed, with Josh watching him, and undressed. His cock, fully erect, was godawful long, just as Josh knew it would be. Bell gagged Josh with a ball gag, saying if there were any other guests on the hall, he didn't want to disturb them. Then he bent the small teenager over the edge of the bed on his belly, and, as Josh's whimpers transitioned into muffled screams, worked hard and diligently to get his cock stuffed up the small young man's ass again. It seemed to Josh that Bell was even longer and thicker now than he'd been the first time. When Josh had managed to stretch to his needs, Bell fucked him to an ejaculation. He pulled Josh up on the bed, unbound his ankles, freed him of the gag, and lay on top of him, kissing and fondling him.

"That was sweet," he whispered. "And you took it well. If it's too much, you can shower and leave now, but I'll only give you $100. If you stay, I'll give you $50 more than originally agreed to—$350. But I'll fuck you again. You'll be glad you stayed. You're reamed big now; the next time would be mostly pleasure."

"I'll stay," Josh answered.

"I'm sorry if I—"

"I'll stay," Josh repeated, more firmly.

Bell snorted some more cocaine and then readjusted Josh on the bed, putting the youth on his back and pulling his arms over his head, attaching the restraints to the bed frame at the top of the bed. He opened a closet door facing the side of the bed to reveal that the inside of the door was a full-length mirror. Then he twisted Josh around so that Bell was standing at the side of the bed but was positioned so that, in fucking Josh in a missionary position, both Josh and he could see the cock working the hole in the reflection of the mirror. Then he big-cock fucked Josh again.

Bell was taking his shower when Josh left the hotel to find his next ride toward Roanoke. He wasn't walking too steadily, and it had nothing to do with having snorted any cocaine. He had Bell's cellphone number in his pocket for in case he wanted to do this again.

Big-cocked black bull at the Farmville garage Marcus had fucked Josh rough and Josh would go back to him when he wanted it big, but this big-cocked black bull Carter Bell had been a thug. Josh thought he'd save the phone number but probably mostly just to take it out to look at and fanaticize about what Bell had done to him, and contemplate what more he might do, if given the chance. Bell had slapped Josh's buttocks red while he had him bent over the bed, and Josh had heard the man mutter something about regretting he'd forgotten to bring his hand whip. That certainly had caught Josh's attention.

* * * *

Bell had kept Josh a half hour over the scheduled time, but he'd been good for the $350 he said he'd pay him. Luckily, too, the next pickup point was an easy walk away in downtown Lynchburg, at a burger joint called Bootleggers, and Josh's next ride, from Lynchburg to Bedford had waited for him to show up. This was the shakiest of Josh's hookups. The ride was an old geezer, curious58, pushing sixty—although Josh thought it more likely the "58" was a year of birth rather than an age—who was tall and gaunt and backwoods looking. He'd wanted to exchange sex talk on the Internet to the point of ejaculation, more so than most of the others Josh texted with, and there was a good chance that's all he really wanted to do—talk dirty and watch Josh masturbate on Skype until he came. He hadn't shown Josh any more than his weather-beaten, gray-beard face and an erection shot as he was jacking off, although he wasn't bad looking—and if he wasn't photoshopping he could get hard and get it off.

Josh had been a little leery that he'd show. He'd said he lived on a farm near Bedford, and that's where he drove Josh in an old rusting pickup. They drove something over twenty-five miles in the mid-afternoon, and the drive lasted for forty-five minutes. The geezer was obviously nervous and having second and third thoughts. He asked intrusive questions of Josh that the young man was sure he was asking just to try to be talking and that Josh easily parried. Josh did answer the questions on who, what, and where he'd been done by other guys, and he could tell the geezer liked to hear about that. Chances were good he was in this just for the sex talk. Josh had to tone down the description of what Banker10/2 had just done with him because he was afraid the man was going to cream his pants.

The guy's pants were tented like maybe he'd just come on the prospect of being with Josh and drop Josh off on the side of the road. But he came from the Bedford area, so he had to go back there anyway, so Josh thought he'd at least get the ride but maybe not paid for sex.

When the old men turned into a farm drive, he drove past a weather-beaten house, where an elderly woman came out on the front porch to water hanging plants as the pickup entered the farm. The geezer emitted a "Shit" when he saw the woman on the porch, but she didn't seem to take a close look at the pickup. It was just another hazy part of her life apparently. The pickup was the farm pickup and the old man came and went as he pleased. Josh was sure it didn't register with her that there was someone in the pickup with the old man.

He drove some distance beyond the house into the fields and parked under a corrugated-roofed, open-fronted vehicle shed, with the opening turned away from the house in the distance and pointed to a mountain range. The man was nervous, and he said he didn't really have $200 and what would Josh do for $50? Josh was actually relieved. Bell had worked him over well and reamed him mercilessly. He was happy not to have to take another cock so soon. $50 and a ride to his next destination was still profit.

"If you take me where you promised," he said.

They got out of the pickup and the man leaned Josh against the hood of the truck, slowly stripped him, touched and fondled him—all the men seemed to want to do that with the nineteen-year-old boy. The geezer seemed mesmerized by Josh's hard-on, and he worshipped it with his hands, and, going down on his knees, he sucked Josh off. Josh returned the favor—the blow job part—and that was that. The geezer had a nice cock on him, although it took a while for Josh to harden it up. Josh accepted the $50 gracefully. It might have ended up worse, he thought.