The Detour: Ch. 02

All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age.

The Detour: Chapter 2

by Tristan Tharp

Bessie's Truck stop sat at the intersection of the old gravel road and the highway. When Bobby pulled the truck in, Cal looked at it with disdain. It was practically a crumbling ruin. The formerly white paint was peeling off the brick building. The parking lot was pitted and cracked. The pumps looked ancient.

Bobby announced, "There's old Bessie."

A woman who looked a hundred years old was sitting in a wooden rocking chair by the front door to the building. She got up and went inside as Bobby parked by the big garage bay doors.

"Come on, kid," Bobby said as he opened the door with a protest of metal.

As Cal followed him, he noticed a young man leaning against a stack of big truck tires in the garage area. The front zipper of his stained coveralls was halfway down, revealing a muscular torso glistening with sweat. His hair was buzzed into a crew cut. He gave Cal an audacious smirk, almost as if he guessed what Cal had been doing for the last few hours. Could he possibly know? Did it really show on Cal's face?

Cal stopped to tell the impudent young man to turn his smirk elsewhere, but Bobby grabbed his arm and dragged him along like a child. Cal heard a derisive snort from behind him.

The inside of the truck stop office was air conditioned. It was blessedly cool. Too cool, actually. Cal's sweat turned icy on his skin. Bessie waited behind an old wooden counter, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. She looked Cal over brazenly.

In a hoarse voice, she said, "Found a stray, Bobby?"

Bobby draped his arm over Cal's shoulders and pulled him close. Cal made a feeble attempt to free himself, but Bobby squeezed just enough to change his mind.

"Yeah. Found this little guy crying on the side of the road. He was scared of bears and hillbillies, so I took him under my wing. Gave him my protection."

Bessie gave Bobby a look. "Under your wing?"

Bobby shrugged. "Well, under my something."

"And did you say protection or erection?"

They both laughed while Cal looked from one to the other. Were they really openly discussing what he thought they were? Did this old woman know what Bobby had just made him do? Was everyone in this part of the world completely depraved?

Bessie said, "And bears and hillbillies? Where'd the boy get the idea we've got anything like that around here?"

Bobby said, "He's from the suburbs. Folks are kind of ignorant there. But he's about to rectify that situation. Cal here is a college man. He's on his way to a university to learn all kinds of new things."

Bessie walked around the counter and looked Cal over even more intently. He fidgeted under her overly intrusive stare. She addressed him directly for the first time.

"You offering him up to me? You haven't done that in years."

Bobby said, "Yeah. He's all yours. Believe me, the truckers are going to love him. I expect a finder's fee. More than you used to pay. Like you said, it's been a long time. There's inflation."

Bessie said, "You'll get what I used to pay and be happy with it."

Cal may not have had a lot of common sense, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what these two were discussing. He just couldn't quite make himself believe it. This was a truck stop, not a whorehouse. And he was male. Whores were female.

Bessie addressed him directly for the first time. "Turn around, boy. Let me see the rest of you."

Cal turned without thinking, then mentally kicked himself for obeying. Who was this woman to give him orders?

"Ok, turn back." To Bobby, she said, "Yeah. Not bad."

Bobby said, "Not bad? He's young, cute... legal. Kind of girlish looking."

Cal spoke up. "I'm not girlish."

Bessie said, "Oh, you're girlish all right. I would've been proud to have a daughter as pretty as you. But I had all boys. Nothing but a grubby pack of randy hellions. I love them like nothing else, but boys are unruly, nasty, messy creatures. And they get nastier and messier the older they get. Especially when they get to be your age with all their hormonal urges day and night. My boys couldn't keep their hands off themselves, the local gals, and even each other. But I'm sure you know all about that kind of thing."

Cal sputtered in outrage. He drew himself up to his full five feet, seven inches and declared, "I won't be around long enough for your customers to like me or not. I'm just getting some gas for my car, then I'm gone. You... you can't make me stay. That's like... kidnapping or something."

Bessie said, "Sure. Sure. No one's making you do anything. But I tell you what. You're sweaty as hell and look like you're about to pass out from the heat. You suburban boys are fragile. I've got a shower out back for the truckers. Bobby can take my mechanic Joe to gas up your car, then Joe can drive it back. In the meantime, you can cool off and clean up."

Cal thought about it. He was hot. And the sweat that coated every inch of his body wasn't entirely his own. Bobby had fucked him one more time before allowing him out of the camper. He was drenched in the man's sweat. He couldn't do anything about Bobby's bodily fluids inside him, but a shower would take care of the rest. Also, the motor oil still coated his butt crack and was making his buttocks slide together in a very disconcerting way. Washing all that nastiness off his skin suddenly became a priority.

He said, "Ok. How much does the shower cost?"

Bessie said, "For a kid in distress, I'll throw it in for free."

After Bobby and Joe left with a gas can, Bessie led Cal behind the counter towards the back of the office building. They passed a door that said Women's. There was no corresponding door for men. Another door at the very rear opened to the outside.

The highway was about twenty yards to the right. Directly ahead was the men's area. Cal stopped and stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

It was constructed like the bus stop enclosures back home... three sides and no front. It was open to the world. This was worse than the big, privacy-free locker room and showers at school. At least that place had four walls, and only other boys and the male coach could see you naked.

The walls were corrugated fiberglass panels, affixed to a rickety looking wooden frame. A shower head was on the left, a sink in the middle, and a toilet on the right. A cracked concrete sidewalk went around the side of the building to the front. Cal assumed that was the route the truckers usually took to get to the shower or toilet.

Cal found his voice. "You're kidding."

Bessie said, "What?"

"There's... there's no door. Anyone can see in."

Bessie gave him a scornful look. "How could there be a door when there's no wall to hold a door?"

"But... but... people on the highway. Those walls aren't very wide. And there's a window in the back of the office. It looks right into the men's room. It's... it's not even a room."

Bessie said, "Folks are whizzing by so fast on the highway, they don't have time to gawk. And that window is to the lady's room. It had curtains on the inside so none of these pervy truckers can look in on them while they do their business."

Cal couldn't believe he was having to explain this. "But the women could look out."

Bessie scoffed. "Now why would they do that? You think they want to see some man grunting on the pot?"

Cal whined, "I don't know. They might do it by accident."

Bessie told him, "You're a very silly young man. Now get out of those nasty, sweaty clothes."

Cal waited, but Bessie just stood there expectantly.

He finally asked in a small voice, "Are you going to watch me undress?"

"Boy, I've got five kids, twelve grandkids, and seven great grandkids. You think I ain't never seen a boy naked before?"

Cal said, "But I'm not a boy. I'm a man. I can't just take my clothes off in front of you."

Bessie said, "You're testing my patience. You're a sweaty, stinky kid. And it's not just sweat I smell on you. I know what you've been doing, you nasty thing. Seducing men on the side of the road. You should be ashamed."

Cal cried, "I didn't. He... I..."

"I've had enough of this. Strip, boy. Now."

Bessie may have been a hundred years old, but she looked tough and mean. Cal didn't want to find out what she'd do if he continued to disobey her. He let out and sob and started pulling his clothes off.

She commanded, "Just hang them on the hook by the sink there. I'm going to put them in the wash when we're finished here. I imagine your underpants are especially nasty. You boys never clean your bottoms like you should."

Cal paused in pulling his pants off. "I wipe."

"We'll see. Hurry it up. I've got a business to run."

When Cal stood before her in just his underwear, he gave her a pitiful look.

"I'll smack your ass if you don't make it quick, boy. Your panties aren't hiding all that much anyway. They're so wet they're I can see right through them."

Cal sighed miserably and pulled his underwear down. He tried to maneuver them off his feet while holding a hand over his crotch. Bessie reached out and swatted his hand away.

She said, "I'm about to see that and even more, you silly little fool. Hang them up and face me with your hands at your sides."

Cal turned to hang his underwear on the hook. He was acutely aware Bessie could see his entire bare backside. No woman besides his mom and his aunts had seen him naked in years. Even nurses at the doctors office only saw him in his underwear. And that was embarrassing enough. Now he was completely naked with the bright sun illuminating his entire body. Being sweaty somehow made his exposure seem even more lewd.

"You're stalling boy. That cute little bottom is just begging me to swat it."

Cal turned to face her, forcing himself to keep his hands at his sides. This woman, this total stranger, had now seen everything he had. The whole day had been an exercise is humiliation, like it's entire purpose was to make him feel pathetic and helpless.

Bessie was giving him that critical look again. "No one's going to mistake you for a horse. But it's kind of a cute one. Well shaped. Not too veiny."

Cal cried, "Oh my God. You can't talk about it like that. You shouldn't be mentioning it. You shouldn't be seeing it. It's... it's... private."

"Not anymore. Lift it up and let me see your ballsack."

Cal whined, "Why?"

"Because I said to."

Cal stood for a long moment, not knowing what to do. Just when he'd reached the age when his life should be exclusively his own, he'd somehow lost all autonomy. Strangers were making him do things he didn't want to do. Humiliating things. He let out another huge sigh and lifted his penis up by the head.

Bessie bent down to look closer. "You got any hair at all on those balls of yours?"

Cal said bitterly, "There's some."

"I'll have to take your word for it. I left my reading glasses in the office. Now turn back around and bend over."

It just kept getting worse and worse.

"Do it, boy. I want to check out your heinie hole. Make sure Bobby and that monster cock of his didn't do you any harm."

Cal said, "You don't need to look. He used a lot of motor oil to make my... my heinie hole nice and slick. He slid right in."

"I don't want to hear all the sordid details of your roadside sex, you nasty thing. Just bend over and do it now."

Cal turned and bent over. What else could he do?

"More. Grab your ankles."

He obeyed, but not without whimpering with degradation. Then he gasped as Bessie used her hands to spread his butt cheeks apart just like Bobby had earlier. No one had any respect for him or his body.

Bessie mused, "Yep, you still got oil all up in your crack. But your hole's still a little red around the rim. Wait here. I'm going to go get some lotion for it. Don't you dare move."

Then she was gone. Cal was stunned. Did he really have to hold this degrading pose till she got back? What if a customer came around the building?

Just as he thought this, he heard the sound of a big rig pulling into the truck stop. He desperately hoped the drive didn't need to pee.

A minute later, a voice boomed out from behind him. "Well, well. Bessie told me she had a new boy out back. She didn't say he was already in position."

Cal squealed and whirled around. A big man with a shaggy beard towered over him. He was unbuckling his belt.

He cried, "No, you don't understand. I'm just waiting on some lotion for my... my..."

The man said, "For that hole you were just proudly showing me? You don't need any lotion for it. I can see you're pre-lubed. Turn back around and resume the stance."

Cal said, "No. You don't understand. I..."

The slap to his face caught him by surprise. He stood in shocked silence while he rubbed his cheek. The slap hadn't been hard, but it was... it was... mean. Bobby hadn't even struck him in the face. He'd spanked Cal's bottom, and that was painful and demeaning, but Cal never had the impression Bobby would do more than just spank him again if he misbehaved. That slap to the face he'd just received told Cal this man would do a lot more if he gave him cause.

"That was just a love tap, kid. Bessie don't like me roughing up her boys. But I don't take no sass from little punks like you. Turn around and show me that ass again."

Cal turned and bent over, grabbing his ankles. He heard the sound of a zipper and the rustle of cloth as pants fell down to the floor. He felt the man getting his erect penis into position, then the now familiar feeling of his hole widening as it pushed inside him.

This one wasn't nearly as big as Bobby's, but the act was much more hostile. Cal yelped and gasped and cried as his aggressor pounded away at him. He begged the man to stop. That only spurred him into an even more forceful attack.

Luckily, the man didn't last nearly as long as Bobby. In just two or three minutes it was over. He pulled out abruptly and smacked Cal on the bottom. Hard. Cal collapsed onto the concrete, panting and crying. He knew without looking this time that his own penis was hard. He hated himself. Even with such a brutal assault, his body had reacted.

They both yelped as Bessie's voice announced, "Your rig's full, Floyd."

Floyd scrambled to pull his filthy looking underwear up. His penis, still erect and dripping, swayed back and forth.

"Shit, Bessie. How long you been there? I thought you were pumping diesel."

"Joe's back. He took over. I was here long enough to see your hairy butt cheeks flexing and your balls swinging while you were pumping my kid. And smacking him in the face. You know I don't allow that. That's five bucks for the ass and another five for the slap."

Floyd angrily shoved himself back into his underwear and started pulling up his jeans.

"Bitch. You don't sneak up on a man while he's fucking. No woman gets to see this cock unless it's about to go down her throat or in her snatch."

Bessie said calmly, "You're welcome to take your business elsewhere. Of course, the next truck stop isn't for miles down the road. And they don't supply cuties like young Cal here."

When Floyd finished dressing, he dug into a pocket and threw a number of bills onto the concrete. He stalked off without another word.

Cal looked up from the floor and said, "You just whored me out"

Bessie bent down to pick up the money.

"Sure did."

"For five bucks?"

"Can't charge too much for you. You're inexperienced. But I get a lot of truckers through here. And they're all horny as hell. After a week or so, I'll be able to charge more. After a month, you'll be bringing in some good money."

Cal scrambled to his feet. "Wait. Wait a minute. There isn't going to be any week or month. You said Joe was back. I'm filling my car the rest of the way up, then I'm leaving this looney bin."

"About that," Bessie said. "Joe checked out your engine, and there's a number of parts that need replacing. Parts I ain't got in stock. And we're way out in the boonies here. It takes weeks to get deliveries. You're stuck here, kid. But don't worry, we'll get you to your college before classes begin. I'll make sure of it."

Cal was so distraught, he forgot how naked he was. Or how hard. Or that this woman had just watched him getting fucked in the ass.

"No no no no noooooo. The car was fine. Dad checked it out before I left. That was less than two weeks ago. I just ran out of gas."

Bessie shook her head and said, "I ain't surprised some suburban daddy doesn't know anything about cars. But don't start crying again. You can stay here in the meantime. I got an old utility shed right behind the shower that I turned into a bedroom. It has an old mattress and pillow. Not quite the comforts of home, but it'll do. I'll feed you, too. Can't have a kid going hungry. In return... well, you just got to keep my customers happy."

Cal stamped his bare foot and declared, "I'm not doing it. No way. I'll call Mom and Dad and have them send me some money."

Bessie nodded and said, "Yeah, you can do that. Then they'll find out what a failure you've been on what's probably your first time away from home. I'm assuming you'd rather have them see you as a capable adult. And, of course, there's the legal problems. Bobby's a friend of mine, and an upstanding family man in our little community. He'll testify to how you propositioned him when he stopped to help you out of the kindness of his heart. Our local sheriff doesn't take kindly to prostitution in his county. Especially when the prostitute is a young man. He thinks only sissy boys do that. He and his deputies will keep you in a cell for months and months, piling on spurious charges. Piling on you, for that matter. You'll get worse than what the truckers will do to you here, and you'll go to prison for years afterwards on top of it."

Cal wiped away tears as he said, "I'll tell them the truth."

Bessie look regretful as she said, "The truth don't usually count for all that much, especially from an out-of-towner in a close knit community. Now bend over again so I can use a little of this lotion on your heinie hole. I'm sure you need it now more than before. Then I'll soap you up and scrub you down. You'll feel a lot better after you're nice and clean."

-----

The shed that was his new home was so small, there was only room for the mattress and pillow. It didn't even have a lamp for the dark nights. It also didn't have a door. Of course.

Cal sat on the mattress, hugging his knees to his chest. He was still naked. His clothes were being washed, including the ones from his car. He had to admit, they were kind of smelly after a couple of weeks on the road.

He was still trying to come to terms with the latest turn of events. Not only was he going to be stuck here for weeks waiting for car parts that he was sure the car didn't need, but he was going to have to pay for his room and board by letting truckers use him like a whore.

And... the old woman had just bathed him. Bathed him. Like he was a baby. That was almost as humiliating as what Bobby and Floyd had done to him. He was eighteen years old. He was a man. At least, he was supposed to be. It didn't seem to be working out that way.

Before he could start crying again, a man appeared in the doorway and said, "Ol' Bessie wasn't lying. You are a pretty one."

-----

The truck stop serviced dozens of rigs a day, and Cal serviced almost all of the drivers. Sometimes, he'd only have a few minutes in between customers. Other times, they were lined up at the door, impatiently waiting for their turn.

Occasionally, that worked to Cal's advantage. Since there was no door, everyone in line could see what has happening on the mattress. Some truckers became so excited watching him suck cocks or take it up his heinie hole, they'd begin masterbating. That made their time with him much shorter.

Cal learned to quickly tell what kind of encounter each trucker wanted. Some wished to deflower a virgin. Some wanted to use an experienced truck stop slut. Some wanted him to be their girl. He often had to stand before a customer with his penis and balls tucked out of sight between his legs and his hands over his chest where breasts would be. Only then could the man get hard and take him.

Cal would always get hard himself. Sometimes, when there were a number of truckers in line, he couldn't relieve his own physical need till the customers had all left satisfied. Occasionally, one would let Cal masterbate for his amusement.

He learned there were so many more sexual positions than he'd ever dreamed of. He learned that most truckers are big and hairy and out of shape. He learned that some were as mean as Bessie's rules would allow. Some took their time. Some were as quick as they could be, just wanting to satisfy their urge and get back on the road. Some were kind, letting him cry on their shoulders once they were through using him.

There were truckers who didn't mind fucking him while others in line watched, and truckers who paid extra to make sure their time with him was private. Some of those were like Dustin, the boy from school who liked other boys. These men taught Cal why blowjobs were so popular. The pleasure their mouths gave him would always have him writhing on the sweaty mattress and almost shrieking with ecstasy. He had to admit their usually unshaven cheeks felt incredible against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

-----

When Cal wasn't servicing big smelly truckers, he was out front helping Joe fix tires and pump diesel. Joe had looked him over dubiously the first time Bessie assigned him to this more legitimate form of labor.

"You're the most pathetic one yet. You're a runt. You probably won't even be able to lift a truck tire."

Joe had a particular grudge against Cal. He'd made good grades in school, but his family couldn't afford to send him to college. He was nineteen and working at a truck stop. That was probably as far in life as he would ever go.

"Come on to the store room so I can find you some coveralls. I know you like to work naked, but you can't do that out front."

Cal followed, saying resentfully, "I don't like to work naked. I don't want to do that stuff at all. I'm a prisoner here."

"Yeah, right."

While Joe rummaged through an old bin, he said, "Strip."

Cal cried, "What? You're going to do it to me, too? I thought it was just the paying customers."

Joe said, "No, stupid. Well.. yes, but not right now. Bessie doesn't pay me much. One of the few perks of the job is I get to screw her little whore boys. But only after hours. You need to strip to put on the coveralls. You can leave your underwear on if you can still manage to be bashful after getting fucked by truckers all day."

Cal undressed while Joe found some dirty coveralls in the bin.

Once he was down to his underwear and socks, Joe looked him over and shook his head in disgust.

"You're pitiful. You wouldn't have lasted a day growing up out here in the country. The other boys would've taken turns beating your ass and then fucking it. Tell you what... I'm horny. Go ahead and suck me before you get dressed. And if you tell Bessie, I'll bust you up. I mean it."

Cal moaned in misery as he got down on his knees in front of Joe. This was going to be worse than sucking the truckers. They were all way older than him. Joe was practically his own age.

Joe slid the zipper of his coveralls all the way down to his thick bush of pubic hair. He obviously didn't wear underwear beneath his work clothes. Cal looked at Joe's physique enviously. The young man was handsome and well built. Cal felt himself harden slightly. What was that about? He always got hard when the truckers used him, but that was just because of the purely physical sensations. Wasn't it? He wasn't actually sexually, emotionally aroused.

Looking at Joe was the first time his penis had reacted before any sex began.

"Pull it out," Joe demanded.

Cal reached in and wrestled Joe's penis out. It hardened in his hand. Cal knew the drill well by now. He leaned in and took it in his mouth, using his tongue to get it slobbery. Before he could begin sucking, Joe took his head firmly in his hands and began thrusting. He face-fucked Cal for over five minutes. Cal's hands scrabbled at Joe's coveralls. He made garbled sounds and drooled uncontrollably. After Joe released into his mouth, he made Cal continue to kneel and hold it inside for another couple of minutes. When he'd made his point about who was in charge, he pulled out and pushed Cal backwards onto his butt.

Looking at Cal's tented underwear, Joe sneered and said, "Don't try to say you didn't enjoy doing that."

"I didn't. It just does that."

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Walking away, Joe said without looking back, "Finish getting dressed and meet me in the garage."

The coveralls hadn't been washed in ages. They stank of sweat and grease. They were also way too big on him. Joe laughed outright when Cal came sheepishly out of the store room, looking like a child wearing his daddy's clothes.

Over the next weeks, Joe visited Cal in his shed almost every night after work. Joe had a regular routine. He liked to strip Cal himself. He wasn't gentle about it. Then he'd remove his own clothes and wrestle Cal to the mattress. Cal would resist, but he always lost. Joe would then straddle him, holding his wrists down, and make him tell all the things he'd had to do with the truckers that day. Cal's accounts had to be extremely detailed or Joe would squeeze his wrists till he cried out and told every embarrassing act.

Then Joe would move forward till his crotch was over Cal's face. Cal would have to lick his balls and taint and even his butthole till Joe was satisfied he'd been thoroughly humiliated. Then Cal would have to suck him to completion.

Afterwards, Joe usually fucked him doggie style, with Cal on his hands and knees. One night, though, he did it face to face. Cal's legs were wrapped around Joe's waist. Joe's face was so close, Cal could feel his breath on his lips. Joe's stomach rubbing against his penis caused Cal to orgasm all over them both. He was afraid Joe would beat him to death, but he assured him it was ok. Cal would just have to lick it all off later.

After Joe came inside him, he collapsed on top, sweating and panting. He buried his face in Cal's neck. He lay there a long time, his chest heaving.

Cal had a startling revelation. Joe wasn't just panting. He was crying. This tough, confident young man was actually crying, just like Cal was prone to do.

Cal thought it best not to let on that he knew.

After a few minutes, Joe said, "Tell me about growing up in the suburbs."

That was different. Cal began hesitantly, unsure if Joe was serious or not. But his audience was receptive, so he told of his life before leaving home... a life that seemed to belong to someone else entirely. In return, Joe told Cal about living in a tiny town on a highway in the middle of nowhere.

They both fell asleep, one atop the other, sometime in the early morning hours. Joe was only mildly flustered when Bessie found them naked just after dawn when she came to wake Cal for breakfast.

She just muttered, "Boys."

Before Joe got up, Cal asked him, "It doesn't embarrass you for her to see you like this? You know... naked? I know she watches you from the window whenever you take a shower after work. And when you... you know... use the toilet." He hesitated, then asked, "You do know she watches, right?"

Joe said, "Of course, I know. I'm not stupid. And no, I don't like it. But what can I do? Jobs are scarce around here. I'm lucky to have this one. It has other drawbacks, too. Bessie isn't the only one who watches. You know all those old bats who hang out in the office and gossip? They watch, too. I grew up around those women. A couple of them were my teachers in school. And even worse than that, a lot of the girls I went to school with have seen me. That's why I have to fuck Bessie's whore boys like you... sorry, no offense intended. The dating pool is tiny around here. Do you think a girl wants to go out with me after she's seen me on the toilet? And you have to pull these coveralls all the way down to do it, so I'm practically stark naked when I take a dump. Real sexy."

Talking about sex made Joe horny. He was already on top of Cal, so he went ahead and fucked him again. Bessie returned and watched from the open doorway. Only Cal knew she was there till Joe climbed off him, sated and happy. His mood changed when he realized Bessie has watched.

"Goddamn it, Bessie. I know you've seen me do everything else, but... but... fucking is really private."

He held his hands over his softening penis.

Bessie said, "As long as I sign your paycheck, boy, your bare ass is mine just like Cal's is. Be glad I don't put you to work here in the back."

As she left, Joe yelled after her, "I wouldn't do it. You couldn't make me."

Cal wondered if that was true. He'd once been proud, but look what he'd been reduced to.

-----

Bessie's whore boys were an open secret in the area. Usually only the truckers had any interactions with them. But word had gotten around that Cal was an insolent jerk who thought he was better than everyone else. It didn't matter that his arrogant attitude had long since been swamped beneath gallons of sweat and semen.

The local girls... the ones who wouldn't have anything to do with Joe... gathered regularly to see Cal in the shower and on the toilet. Normally, taking a shower with an audience would be the lesser humiliation. But Bessie liked to take an active role in cleaning Cal between customers. She lathered him by hand with soap, then scrubbed him down with a wash cloth. As with any other activity that involved his nakedness, he always got hard.

The bath wasn't even the worst of it. She had a garden hose with a special attachment she used to douche out all the stuff the truckers left behind. She'd fill him till he felt he was about to burst, then make him hold it in as long as he could. He'd finally be clutching his bottom and writhing where he stood. When he couldn't hold it anymore, and started dribbling down his legs, she allowed him to sit on the toilet and release the flood.

He learned not to look up at the window. There were always faces there, laughing at the conceited college man making a fool of himself.

One day, five girls showed up and paid Bessie for some time with Cal. They used the hose repeatedly till Bessie told them they'd have to pay more for the water bill. After that, they made him masterbate for them over and over till he was so sore he couldn't stand it.

Their visits became a regular occurrence. More girls showed up each time. They even took Polaroid photos of him in all kinds of disgraceful positions, including closeups of his hole with the hose plugged into it. Cal knew he'd dread those photos turning up for the rest of his life.

Even the local boys got in on the fun. They loved putting the haughty, self-important suburban boy in his place. As with Joe, it was so much worse servicing young men his own age.

Bessie was beside herself with glee. Cal was bringing in more money than any of her previous boys. Cal worried that he was too good for business. Maybe she'd wouldn't let him go in time to get to school. Maybe she'd keep him there forever.

He'd promised to cal Mom and Dad every few days to let them know he was ok. He kept the promise, but lied about where he was. He always picked a spot somewhere along the route to the university. In reality, he was calling from the same spot, the truck stop office. He couldn't let his parents know how badly he'd screwed up. They'd put their faith in him by letting him out on his own. He couldn't let them down.

That sentiment was new to him. He'd never worried about disappointing them before. And they always sounded so relieved to hear his voice, it made his heart ache. Cal realized he was not the young man who'd set out for college not so long ago.

Joe spent the night at least three times a week. He was no longer as rough as he'd been. They'd still wrestle, but Cal would resist only enough so Joe could enjoy his feeling of dominance. Joe now only fucked him face to face.

Cal gradually started to admit to himself that he liked Joe, and not just as a friend. All day he'd endure the truckers by thinking of the night when it would be Joe's penis in his mouth, Joe's body on top of his. He was sure Joe didn't feel the same way about him. Joe just needed a sympathetic friend, a shoulder to cry on. He did that openly now. And he always assured Cal he'd kick his ass if he told anyone.

Joe would even take pity on Cal and masterbate him after he'd had his own fun. Then they'd curl up together and fall asleep, two young men joined in their wish for better circumstances.

-----

Almost nine weeks after Bobby found Cal crying on the side of the road, Bessie presented him with his car keys.

She said, "As promised. Your car is fixed and all gassed up, ready to go."

Cal took the keys hesitantly. He half feared it was all a trick.

"You're really letting me go? Really really?"

She said, "Really really. Don't worry about ol' Bessie. Another boy'll come along in a day or so. I never have to go long without one. There's a lot of unfortunate young men out there."

Cal asked her something he hadn't dared to before.

"Do you ever make girls do this?"

Bessie look genuinely shocked at the question. "Lord, no. I'm not a monster."

Joe gave him a huge hug as a goodbye. Then he roughly pushed him away and went back to work.

Cal would always wonder if Joe ever made it out of that tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Or at least found a girl to settle down with him.

-----

Cal laughed deliriously as the wind whipped his hair through the open car window. He was back on the road, headed to his university and the beginning of a better life. He had to admit, the car might not have needed the repairs, but it still ran better than ever before. Joe was a good mechanic.

Cal swore he'd never let anything like his time at the truck stop happen to him ever again. He'd never allow himself to be the object of sexual subjugation. Never ever ever.

He'd soon find out how wrong he was. The fraternity he'd pledged to had an intense initiation process. It was designed for maximum humiliation. And, of course, maximum gratification of the established members.

And Cal's probationary period, with all its obligations, would last his entire freshman year. At least the frat brothers bathed more often than truckers.

And some of them were really cute.