For David

A Joe Buck Tale

Published: 1 Jan 2025

Author’s Note:

Happy Anniversary to Me

In January of 1997, I had been writing for a couple of years, after losing my truck driving license because I could not pass the eye test. I’d written On Winning by then, and I had written Autumn Allies and Fleeting Fall. I had a computer for two years, when Windows 95 hit the market, access to what wasn’t much of an Internet became easier.

I’d lived in California and I moved to Alabama to be a writer, because it was cheaper living in Alabama. In January of 1997, I went in search of gay love stories on that fairly new Internet. January, February, and into March, I tried to find any gay stories at all by searching the Internet. I cam up empty.

On March 30, 1997, I ran across a website, Nifty Archives. There were 4800 of what they called stories. They were the worst kind of child porn. I never got past the first sentence of even one story. To describe it, each seemed to be about twelve year old boys falling in love with a middle aged man.

Give me a fucking break!

I left Nifty Archives and I went to wash my hands and use mouthwash. Those writings were that horrible, but, it struck me, as I went back to my search, if they’ll post that crap. If I wrote a gay love story, maybe they’d post that.

I sat down the day I found the Nifty Archives and I began writing Billie Joe’s Journey, of Billie Joe’s Journals, 3 books. That day I was writing for people like me. At first I called it, It Happened on a Bus. A gay boy decides to run away, after his best friend commits suicide, because he won’t live in a world that hates him for being gay. Neither him or his best friend knows they are both gay. Billie Joe decides to run away. He’s going to find out what being gay means.

Billie Joe doesn’t have far to go. On the bus he is taking to supposedly spent summer vacation at his brother’s in Seattle, he meets Carl. Billie Joe meet his first gay man. Carl is seventeen, in the army, and on the bus to Seattle.

I wrote the first chapter of Billie Joe’s Journey the afternoon of March 30, 1997, the day I found Nifty. At 3 that afternoon, I sent the chapter to the webmaster of the Archives.

Then, I had a thought. What if no one reads it. I know I could write. I didn’t know I wrote anything anyone would want to read, but I was giving it a shot. Immediately I begin to worry. What if no one writes my email address. I won’t know if I can write or not. I vowed to never check my email again.

My vow lasted until eight o’clock on March 30, 1997, I went to my email inbox. I had twenty email. Today, with over a hundred stories, most novels, and adding up to close to 4,000,000 words, I don’t get twenty email a month, but email was the coin of the realm in March 1997 and I got twenty emails.

Okay, I could write something gay men would read. I continued writing Billie Joe’s Journey and then I began writing Discovering Gregory. I was averaging ten to twenty email a day in 1997.

On that first day, after writing that first chapter of a gay love story, each of those twenty email contained the same phrase, “Don’t stop writing this story.”

I haven’t stopped. I continue to write four to five to six hours a day, depending on the day and the mood of my computer.

Run to the Cutting Edge is my anniversary story. This week I’ve been writing for gay literary sites for twenty-eight years. I am about to post my 4,000,000^th word for people like me. I’ve decided I should croak about the time I hit 5,000,000 words. So, check me out at Tarheel Writer, tarheelwriter.com.

I’ve been trying to write a story describing all the ways there are to be gay, and put gay people, LGBTQ+ people, where they can be found. EVERYWHERE!

Because we have entered troubled waters, it’s up to each of us to preserve our history as told in stories at gay literary sites.

Happy Anniversary to Me!
Peace & Love,
Rick Beck

A Run to the Cutting Edge

I was on a run from Dallas to a farming implement company in Winslow, Arizona. It wasn’t a typical route I ran. Before going in to pick up in Dallas on a Tuesday, I filled my fuel tanks, and I got well fed in preparation for the run. I rarely went west out of Dallas. The city was a main shipping hub for freight.

A lot of freight went into Dallas and even more came out of the area. I never had any trouble loading out of Dallas, but Winslow, Arizona presented a different problem, and I was going to need to drive a ways to get my next load.

I didn’t mind taking out of the way loads, I didn’t get that many, and I didn’t object because I unloaded early that morning, and getting out before the afternoon rush was a pretty good deal. The two cities I saw most often were Los Ageless and Dallas, with Dallas shipping twice the freight LA shipped.

Normally the freight I took out of Texas went north and northeast. Chicago was also a main shipping hub, and I saw plenty of that city. Chicago was an exceptional place to go, because as much freight went in as came out of there. As with all major cities, traffic was a problem, and Chicago had as much traffic as any place in the country. I just put my head down and drove until I got where I was going in Chicago, but seeing it disappearing behind me in my west coast mirrors never hurt my feelings.

I was in Dallas where I went to pick up a loaded trailer. I dropped my empty trailer, and backed up under the trailer that matched the number I was given. A drop and hook took fifteen minutes to a half hour. The paperwork was in the trailers paper box, and, just like that, I was on the way to Winslow.

Usually, when I loaded out of Dallas, I was heading north to north east. The most populated centers of the country got an overwhelming amount of freight. As a trucker, I knew the patterns. I knew what to expect when I went to Dallas. This time I didn’t get what I expected, but that was okay too.

What I’ve just told you is only important because of the events that unfolded on this particular run. Now, I know to expect the unexpected. Actually, when I start a run, the only thing I expect is to be sitting in front of the warehouse where I’m scheduled to deliver safely and on time.

You can’t know what you might encounter on the way. Rarely will it leave me feeling like my life may have been threatened, though it clearly had been. Being on an eighteen wheeler is about as safe as sitting in your living room. Millions of loads are delivered in the country every day. Tractor trailers constantly crisscross America, and most get to their destination safely and on time.

As usual, I was full of fuel and it was hammer down once I cleared the city traffic and drove to and through Fort Worth. Dallas-Fort Worth is one city these days. Over the years Dallas has moved toward Fort Worth, and Fort Worth closed in on Dallas. Clearing the hour of traffic I face going west is no picnic. I expect to hit more than my share of slow moving traffic.

Once I hit open road, I roll my window down and I breathe fresh air. Once I’m on a load, regardless of where I am. When I leave a town and hit the open road, there’s no feeling like it. This is why truckers truck. Seeing that straight dry section of super slab out in front of me is a rush, and on my way to Winslow, there would be minimal traffic. This is not a main traffic corridor. There is traffic around each small town, but you move through it like a knife cuts through butter.

I was alone on the truck. I had a boy in the second seat for several months. Like most boys, he got tired of the back and forth after a few months, and he picked a spot where he said, “This is where I get off.”

Tony got off in Paris, not the French kind, but deep in the heart of Texas. Now going north or northeast, there were always hitchhikers, but where I was, even going west didn’t necessarily mean finding a new helper standing with his thumb out. He might or might not want to ride along. He might or might not have a destination in mind when I pick him up. The overwhelming number of boys I pick up, are on their way nowhere. They are going to leave something behind. Even boys with a destination in mind, might decide to stay on the truck. A boy in the second seat eats when I eat. You can’t imagine how attractive that is to boys who find themselves on the road. The truck is a safe place, and it can become a port in any boy’s storm.

Not having anyone in the second seat, I don’t expect to find one on the roads I’ll take on the way to Winslow. There isn’t a lot of traffic, except when I hit a local town, and then about the time I notice the traffic, I’m in the middle of nowhere again. No boy wants to stand with his thumb out for hours at a time.

The other disadvantage to run an out of the way route, I don’t know where the good food and the cheap fuel is. I have a memory of going east on those highways, but my mind is strangely blank about moving west on the same road. A truckers keeps the facts organized in his head. It’s this organization that might have him unable to remember the same places while he goes in the opposite direction. I will usually remember a place I liked, but I need to be on top of it for it to come to mind going a way I’ve never gone before.

This is how my schedule and my stops got out of kilter. I wasn’t sure where I’d stop, where I’d fuel or eat. The choices I’d make were completely random.

Most boys on the road are heading west., once they hit the road. I suppose it has to do with the weather, and if you listen to the Beach Boys, and who doesn’t, there is nothing like basking in the warm California sun.

East Coast girls are hip now, and I love the clothes they wear, but West Coast girls all have legs that go from here to there, and a nice tan that goes with them. I didn’t know about all girls being California girls, but boys who are on the road, often think, why not go see the California girls?

I was alone. It was after dark, I was fifty miles east of nowhere when nature called. Now, if I got to piss bad enough, I ain’t too gentile to go piss on the right front tire, but when a guys got to take a dump, a tire ain’t going to do.

I ate a greasy burger and a ton of fries where I fueled before picking up the drop and hook. I knew better, and I wasn’t surprised when the call of nature came, and what do you know, there was a road sign, pickle park ahead. Actually they call the rest areas, but I’d never rest in one. Too damn dangerous. That’s why I avoid them, but when you got to go, you got to go.

When my cowboy boots hit the pavement, I left my door open and I ran for the comfort of a nice cold toilet seat.

Now, my truck was running, my door was an open invitation for anyone who might be able to drive an eighteen wheeler, but I doubted there was anyone who could drive a truck within ten miles who wasn’t already driving a truck.

I took my time. Yes, I washed my hands, and I was wiping them as I stepped out side into the fresh clear night time air. The rest area was empty, and as I looked at my running truck, driver’s door open, I never gave a thought to someone crawling up in my bunk while I weren’t looking. I laughed at the idea when I got the point of a knife shoved in my right hand kidney.

I was cut, and a voice that couldn’t have come from any experienced high way robber said, “Very slow now. Take your wallet out of your pocket and drop it at your feet.”

When he spoke, he gave the knife a polite jab, which made the bleeding more apparent.

What I actually heard him saying was in Clint Eastwood’s voice, “You got to ask yourself, do I feel lucky. Well do you punk.”

I didn’t feel that lucky right then, but I knew by where the knife was, and where the voice came from, I had several inches on the guy. That meant, if I began to reach for my wallet with my left hand, he think the deed was done, but he’d be picking up a couple of his teeth, once my elbow struck him. Not only was he inexperienced for standing so close to me, his voice was a young voice.

Yes, Clint, I felt lucky. I had two problems with the kids order, I didn’t carry a wallet. My ID and money were hidden in the truck. There was a second problem with his order, I hated being poked with a knife.

“Not a problem, Son,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I’ll use my left hand, because I’m right handed, and I’ll take out my money. I don’t carry a billfold. My ID is in my truck. I’m reaching for my money now,” I said, cocking my elbow at a right angle to where his face should be.

“Do it now, Sucker.”

He was way close. I could feel him up against me. When I reached for the cash in my front pocket, I felt exactly where he was with my left elbow. The knife hadn’t moved, and if I played this wrong, he’d jam it into me up to the hilt, and then he’d remove the money from my pocket.

As I began removing the money, I swung my elbow back about where I figured his sternum would be. It was fast and it hard and if I broke it, I’d apologize.

I heard him hit the ground as air gushed out of him. The knife skittered across the parking lot as he gasped for any air he could get a hold of. It took me a second to catch up with the weapon, and I walked back toward a boy holding his stomach, knees bent, as he laid on his back.

I didn’t expect him to have much to say as I stood over him wondering what the hell I was going to with him now that I had him. Let him rob some other poor unsuspecting dope. Not likely.

“Why’d you do that?” a youngish squeal escape his mouth.

He was still gasping for air after he said it.

“You stupid or what? You try to hold me up, and you don’t think I’m going to object, Asshole?”

He gasped some more and started to get up. I put my boot in his crotch and I added a little weight to the proposition. His expression went from fearful to horrified as I stood over him. He got very still.

“Jesus Christ. Don’t rupture me. I didn’t mean it. I was hungry. I ain’t ete in two days. I was desperate. I was let out at the last town. I began walking here and that’s about the time you pulling up. I figured I could score enough money to eat,” he said, using way too much air to say it.

I eased my foot off a little. He was doing a combination of gasping and groaning as he kept his eyes on me.

He wasn’t much more than a hundred and twenty pounds. He could have been eighteen. He could have been fifteen. I couldn’t tell. He needed a serious bath and he needed to burn those clothes. He looked like what he said he was. A scrawny, down on his luck kid. I wasn’t going to forget where he put his knife.

“You should know better than to try to rob a trucker, Son. We ain’t the kind of folks that turns over his poke to some snot nose brat.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted money to eat,” he said, holding his nuts after I moved my boot off his crotch. I stood looking down at the sad sack I captured.

I stood over him for a spell. I looked at the knife, turning it in my hand.

“That’s some pig sticker you got here.”

That sucker was eight inches long in the blade, and it had a handle with indentations for your fingers, so your hand didn’t slip while you shoved it in. It was a serious soldiers knife.

He started to breathe kind of regular as he watched me. He had no idea what I was capable of doing, and I had no idea what to do with him. I couldn’t just leave him here. He’d end up killing someone or getting himself killed.

I wasn’t quite ready to drive away with him in my truck either.

“Can I get up?” he asked.

“Fat chance,” I said. “I’m thinking about using this knife on you. You try to get up, and I won’t need to think about it any longer. You lay right there, Junior.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, letting his arms rest on the asphalt.

“Breathing better are we?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”

“I bet you are. Where’s you get this. You lie to me and I’m going to castrate you and leave you here for coyotes to eat.”

“That’s my old mans. I figured it might come in handy.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a nice knife. Thank your old man for me. Too bad it’s against the law to carry such things on a truck. I can always take you and it to the cops. Give the story about me stopping to take a dump and catching you.”

I began frisking my new ward. I was careful touching him in places boys were most sensitive about. He watched my hand feel around his crotch. I saw the glint in his eyes when he calculated we might be able to do business. He didn’t calculate how annoyed I got when some tried to hold me up.

I came up with no weapons, I put my hand on his cock and squeezed gently to feel what was there. He decided he needed to yelp if he wanted to keep any self respect at all, but I already knew what I wanted to know.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, as I gave his dick a squeeze.

“Any damn thing I please, Asshole,” I said. “You’re my responsibility now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Roll over on your stomach.”

“What are you going to do?” the now frightened little boy wanted to know.

“See if your ass is worth fucking first. If it is, maybe I won’t take you to the police. Maybe I might just keep you and fuck you for a few days. You know trucks don’t get a lot pussy on the road. I hear little boy ass is tighter than pussy. Maybe I’ll see if it’s true. If I do, you’ll think twice the next time you try to rob a guy.”

“Don’t take me to the cops. I’ll do what you want,” he said too agreeably.

“You owe me now, Kid. I might get a little something out of this I can use.” If I wasn’t leaving him here, maybe I was taking him with me. He knew by the way I touched him, I had some interest in his goods. He was beginning to believe I wasn’t going to hurt him, because he wasn’t hurt yet.

I could see his mind working as he was considered what angle to take.

“Stand up,” I said, taking a giant step back while holding the knife where he could plainly see it.

He used one hand to get to his feet with his back to me. When he turned to face me, he only saw the knife in my hand. He didn’t think I’d hurt him, but he wasn’t sure, and that kept him honest. If he turned to run, he didn’t have any idea if I was fast enough to catch him. That was a bridge too far. He waited for me to decide what I was going to do next. That was an easy one.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?”

I held out the knife and he undressed for me. I picked up each item as he tossed it down. I felt nothing hard enough or large enough to be a weapon. His comb felt just like what it was, but I took it out to look to be sure. In a minute he was standing barefoot in tighty whiteys that were anything but white.

“Off,” I said, using the knife for emphasis..

“What?” he squealed. “What are going to do?”

“Off,” I said.

He yanked them off, holding them. He put his hands over his goods.

“You bashful. Little girls are bashful. You hiding your little pecker.”

“It ain’t little,” he said, moving his hands.

“It will do. Nothing to write home about. Pick up your clothes. Do not put them on. Carry them with you to the truck.

He did as I said and stood next to me while I unlocked the passenger door.

“Get in. Clothes go on the floor board. I’m going to keep you with me for the time being, but you don’t do as I say, You and this knife go to the police.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said.

I watched his better than average ass as he put in my truck. I’d keep him until he was more trouble than he was worth, but I would tell him that.

“I’m taking you with me for now,” I said, after getting into the truck. You t just enough hair to look like you maybe twelve. Are you twelve?”

“I’m nineteen,” he said. “Part Choctaw. The part that don’t grow hair.”

“Is anything you’ve told me the truth. Don’t lie to me, Asshole.”

“A Little,” he said.

“And that’s what you got, a little. Fuck with me and you will regret it.”

I’d scared him enough to keep him in line for today. He’d be working an angle by tomorrow. I was nearly sure of it. I’d be nice for a while and see if he doesn’t like that better. I looked at his face. I’d seen his body. He could have been nineteen. A lot of guys shaved their goods. How did you know?

I was in the truck and heading for the exit in another minute. I shifted up through the gears with no one in sight on either side of the highway. I glanced at him and he sat with his hands over his goods. He kept an eye on me and once in a while he looked ahead of us.

I didn’t think he’d go far in that condition, and I didn’t want him getting any big ideas. I knew I should have my head examined for taking this kid on, but I was always hoping I could offer some help that might change a boy’s life.

The kids eyes never left me, except to glance ahead. He’d moved his hand and he was counting his lucky stars for the time being, but he had no idea what I was going to do with him, but he had plenty of time to think about it.

“Cooler is on the bunk right behind you. Don’t move until I tell you to,” I said, as he began to check where the cooler was.

“There is half a turkey sandwich on top. There are sodas in the ice. “Give me a soda. Get one for yourself, and you can have the sandwich,” I said, which I thought was pretty generous under the circumstances.

I watched him as his dick hung down and his ass flexed while he did what I told him to do. He wasn’t bad for a guy his age, whatever age it was. I wasn’t convinced he was nineteen. Something about him looked way younger, but he did have a maturity that required some growing up. Most fifteen year old’s were smart enough not to pull a knife on a trucker, but maybe he was desperate. It was probably the only true thing he’d said so far.

The sandwich was gone in a few seconds, and he drank like he was really thirsty. I’d keep an eye on him, because I didn’t know what he knew. He had no weapons if you didn’t count his dick, and I wasn’t as worried as I was curious, but I’d be as tough as I thought I needed to be. I wasn’t into rape, but the kid owed me. He knew that much. I held his future in my hands.

I wasn’t going to rape anyone. Some men like forcing people to do what they want them to do. Sex was about mutual satisfaction for me. Force wasn’t in my playbook. Making a mutual exchange with sex as part of the bargain was fine.

He wasn’t as guarded once he had something in his stomach. He looked away from me now and then, to look out ahead of us. Then his eyes were on me again. He’d moved his hands off his privates, not worried for the time being.. If I was going to hurt him, he knew he’d already be hurt.

He’d done something stupid. Now, he was in a fix. He’d try to get out of it while giving up as little as necessary, but he knew he’d need to give something up to make up for his mistake. My problem was how do I trust a kid who had already cut me. He could be violent if need be. I’d need to keep a close eye on this one. He was still healthy and he got a half a turkey sandwich out of the deal. It was the second half of a sandwich so big I could only eat half. Now, I’d need to make a food stop because I had to keep my belly satisfied. I had plenty of time.

I could have used that sandwich about now.

It was nearly midnight when I recognize the stretch where I was. There was an all night fuel stop ten miles ahead. There was a restaurant along side the fuel stop and I was sure it stayed open all night. I remembered eating there.

“Get your clothes on. We’re going to take a break. You do exactly as I tell you, and we’ll be fine. You want to run off, it would be my lucky day. You do what you’re told and you’ll get to eat for a few days if I don’t get tired of you.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, wasting no time getting back into his duds.

“There’s a restaurant and the food is okay. I’ve been there before. We aren’t spending all night here. I still have some miles to put behind me.”

It wasn’t a truck stop I used, and I locked up and left the truck running. It just wasn’t a good idea to shut down in the middle of a run if I wasn’t sleeping.

We sat in a booth with big windows to look out at the darkness.

“What can I do for you gents,” a gum cracking waitress asked, after she fixed her hair.

“Burger, fries, coke,” I said, and I held my open hand out toward the kid.

“Same. No onions.”

“He your kid. Looks a little like you.”

“He is now, I guess,” I said. “You want him?”

“Honey lamb, my boyfriend’s got me plumb tuckered out. IF it wasn’t for that, I’d give him a run for his money.”

“You got a name?” I asked, tired of calling him kid.

“James Lewis,” he said without hesitating.

“I figure you for a John Smith or Joe Jones. They call you Jim?”

“Jimmy,” he said, taking an interest in me for the first time. “Why you doing this. You ain’t castrated me and I know what being fucked feels like, and you ain’t done that. Now you’re feeding me.”

“You ever suck cock,” I asked, since he brought up the subject and it was one I had a serious interest in since arriving at this hole in the wall.

He toyed with his napkin, his knife and fork, and he had the napkin half shredded when he looked at me again.

“My brother. He use to get me to do it to him. Didn’t cost me nothing and he liked it.”

“What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere carrying a deadly weapon like that knife?”

“Got left off in the last town. I ain’t got no money. I was starving. I came to the rest area, and well, I did what I did. I’m sorry, okay. I was desperate.”

“It depends on you, when this ride comes to an end. I’ll keep you for now. I’ll feed you. I ain’t figured out what I want to do with you yet. You stuck a knife me, and you’re damn lucky I didn’t use it on you. I could have cut you up, and no one would ever know who did it. I’ll give a shot, don’t fuck with me or you ain’t seen mean yet. You got it?”

“Yes, Sir. I can go with you. You’re going to take me with you?”

“I have no idea why, but I try to help boys who are down on their luck. Most are okay. They just need to be treated fair, but none of them stuck a knife in me.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do what you want. I won’t try anything like that again. Not ever,” he said with pleading in his voice.

It was a fair start. I’d keep my eye on him. Maybe he just needs a break.

He ate like there was no tomorrow, and I ordered two burgers to go.

I put the burgers on my manifold to keep them warm. I’d wasted more time than I planned, but I was full of fuel and food again. I was less than a day from Winslow and I had two days to be there, so hurrying wasn’t on my mind, but I was wide awake. Highway robbery does that to a guy. I was still watching the kid out of the corner of my eye as we drove into the night.

He fell asleep after a while. Highway robbery is a tough business. I’ve heard it said, if you can fall asleep with someone who is driving you, you trust them. I was sure it was true. I never fell asleep with anyone driving but me, and I had a gene that wouldn’t allow me to fall asleep behind the wheel.

One time, I was coming out of Lincoln, Nebraska, heading west with a load. I decided to see how far I could go in a day. I had food in the cooler, and I stopped for fuel in Wyoming. That was my only stop. From two in the morning, when I left Lincoln, to after eleven when I pulled over to sleep, I’d driven one thousand and twenty-four miles in less than twenty-four hours. I was south of Boise when I was too tired to drive any further. I knew I had to stop there.

On this night, I was closing in on five hundred miles on less than a thousand mile run. I could be in Winslow early tomorrow, but I’d find a good truck stop and fuel again, eat, and get a shower and a few hours sleep.

Winslow was definitely not in a main freight moving zone. I’d need to drive a ways for my next load. I’d be waiting to unload at the warehouse I was going to when those folks got to work. If I was lucky, I’d be out of there before noon, and then I’d wait until they came up with a load that wasn’t too far from Winslow.

I watched him waking up. It took a few minutes for him to remember where he was. He showed all the signs of someone who hadn’t been anywhere he could call home for a while. He started watching the road ahead, before he watched my knees on the steering wheel. It wasn’t much to watch. The truck steered itself. I was there to keep it out of the ditch when the road wasn’t this smooth.

Once he began talking, he kept talking.

“I been out here a while. I had to do stuff to eat. I got too far west and I can’t even get someone to look at me twice. I mostly suck dicks for a meal. My brother got me sucking him. He fucked me a few times. I didn’t like it much. He was rough. I asked him to take it easy, he told me, ‘You don’t know how good it feels. I decided to try it on my little brother. My old man walked in on us. I got tossed out of the house once my father did his investigation. My oldest brother said, ‘He’s been at me more than once.’”

“He the one started the sucking and fucking,” I asked, curious about it.

“He did. I was nine. He was eleven. He had our younger brother doing him by the time I took the fall for queering off. I didn’t mind it. I didn’t start it. I met a guy took me in for a while. He was gay. Treated me okay. I don’t know why I left there. I been on the road ever since. A couple years. This is the first time I couldn’t find a way to make enough money to eat. I don’t like being hungry.”

It was the perfect opening to offer him what I offered most boys I picked up. I’ll feed you if you stay. I’ll pay you if you want to work. This guy wasn’t getting an invitation. I wasn’t sure what I’d do, but I still didn’t trust this guy. I had no urge to wake up dead one morning.

There was a ring of truth in the story he told me, but I could tell by the way he told it that most of it was bullshit. I don’t know how long it took him to make up the story he told me, but he’d been building on it for a while. Once a boy got accustomed to being on the truck, they usually ditched the bullshit and told me the truth. I didn’t know this kid would last long enough to recognize the truth.

Why not tell me the truth. It’s what you do when you get caught with your hand in the cookie jar. It sounded true because he was trying to get me to trust him. He knew I watched him as much as he watched me. I just didn’t turn my head to see him. I saw plenty.

He leaned forward again, after his mind got lost in the words he’d said. He was wondering if he’d said too much. More than he needed to tell me about what he would and wouldn’t do.

“When did daddy dearest toss you out on your ass?”

“I was fifteen. I met Robert once I knew where to go to get picked up. There’s a street in town where guys go to hustle. I knew a guy who told me about the money. I got picked up a few times before Ernie picked me up. I stayed with him two years. He treated me okay, but he wanted to be taken care of. I guess I got tired of sucking him off. I’m sure he wondered what he did wrong. He was okay. That was two years ago.”

“Where you from?” I asked.

He turned his head to look my way while he tried to remember where he was from. I knew he’d lie to me before he opened his mouth. “Madison. The one in Wisconsin,” he said, watching to see if I doubted him.

“That right close to Milwaukee?”

He looked at me to see if I was going to bite on whatever answer he gave.

“Couple hundred miles, I guess.”

It was a bit more than seventy miles. The kid had never been in Madison, and everyone knows where Milwaukee is if they live in Wisconsin.

“You can change any of your answers when ever you’d like,” I said to let him know I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.

He watched me a while longer.

“Columbus. I was raised in Columbus. I don’t know why I said the other.”

“Do you even remember where you said you were from?”

He stared at me for a while.

“No. I just said that. I don’t know why.”

“Probably because you’re wanted for something in Columbus, and you don’t want me checking on James Lewis from Columbus, or whatever your name is.”

He was smiling now. He’d been caught in his lies and he realized he was in over his head. Why lie when you could tell the truth.

“I’m Prentice Lord. I am from Columbus.”

“Now, you don’t need to remember which phony answer you gave me. Isn’t that easier than making stuff up you’ll never remember in a day or two.”

“Yeah,” he said.

He was still smiling. I had no idea what that meant, but a smile is better than a scowl in my book. Maybe there was some hope for the kid.

“Anything else you told me was true?” I asked casually.

“Yeah, I use to suck off my brother. It was okay.”

“Did he start it, or did you start it?”

“I guess I did. We slept together and he had started getting hair down there. One night I just did it. After that he wanted me to do it all the time. It was okay. I ran away because my old man beat me. Ernie was real and I’m not wanted for anything I know of. Ernie put me out because I stole his money.”

“He didn’t press charges?”

“No. Ernie was nice. I don’t know why I stole from him. If I blew him a few times a week, he was a happy camper. I didn’t mind.”

“I keep thinking we’re making progress, and then you lie some more, and I start thinking you’re hopeless. I don’t take thieves on the truck with me, and if you can’t tell me the truth, just shut up. Why make shit up, Pren?”

“My brother called me Pren,” he said.

“Which brother?”

He was smiling again. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

“The only one I got.”

“He’s older?”

“Yeah, that’s true. We slept together, and boys will be boys.”

“Your father didn’t catch you at it?”

“No. My father was a mean son-of-a-bitch. He drank too much and beat the hell out of me when he did. I planned to run a long time before I did it.”

“What took you so long, Pren.”

He smiled.

“I found a place where guys picked me up. I didn’t want to leave my source of income, so I hung in Columbus longer than I should have. One night I stayed out all night with a guy who got me high. My old man beat me until I couldn’t walk. As soon as I could walk, I took off. Ernie already picked me up on a regular basis. He was nice to me. When I told him I run off, he took me in. I was with him almost two years. I liked him, but I always manage to fuck up.”

“Why does that sound like a story I can believe?” I asked.

“Because it’s true,” Pren said.

I smiled.

One victory for the good guys. I still wasn’t sure about him. Being stuck by his knife was rather unforgettable, even if he was a victim of circumstance that put him at that rest stop when I flew in on a wing and a prayer.

“Your look okay. You might even be cute under that dirt. Your body is better than average. Most guys inclined to go for such a thing would be lucky to find you, but you look like a dirt bag. Even guys who are so inclined, couldn’t get past the smell. If you were clean and in nice clothes, you could survive selling it.”

“In other words, you ain’t buying,” he supposed.

“You tried to rob me. You think I need to go into the bargain basement for goods? I’ll see a half dozen boys as nice on the side of the road in a week.”

“I was desperate. You fed me. You think I’ll forget that. Do you know how fucking hungry I was. I’m sorry. I know it don’t help, but I am sorry. You seem like a nice guy. I was desperate.”

That did help whether or not I looked like it. I wasn’t sure whether there was hope for the kid or not. I was a sucker for a challenge. I’d hate to need to kick his ass if I tried to trust him when I had no reason to. I’d had enough guys on the truck that I could read one close to what their story was.

When they’re teenagers, they hadn’t learned the art of deception yet. It didn’t take long to catch them in their lies. Once a guy got into his twenties, I wouldn’t trust them on a bet if they’re still on the side of the road trying to find a place to belong.

The truck stop I remembered was still there and it was open. I could be in Winslow by the afternoon, but I’d stop here. Have a light meal, catch a shower, and a few hours sleep, before finishing the run.

“What are you doing?”

He was alarmed when I shifted down a few gears and got off on the ramp. I pulled up to the fuel pumps and filled both tanks, and it should get me to Winslow and then to where my next load was.

“Fuel. Food. Shower. Some sleep. You ain’t getting in my bunk smelling like you smell, and I ain’t letting you out of my sight once we climb in the bunk.”

I didn’t know what his reaction would be, but he was smiling when I stopped at the fuel pumps. He followed me out of the truck and went to get the squeegee to clean the windshield on both sides. Had he ridden on a big rig before? For the first time, I saw a sign he knew the program.

When he put the squeegee up, I said, “Thanks. I won’t need to do it. Now, you are earning your keep. You hungry?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods? I’m hungry all the time.”

I laughed. The kid had spunk. He showed no sign he ever over ate.

I did shut her down while I fueled. Not all truckers did this, but most truck stops had a truck they sent out to give a driver a boost if they shut down and couldn’t get her fired up again. I’d only needed one hot shot in that decade, so it wasn’t on my mind, except when I shut her down to fuel.

I remembered the two hamburgers I put on the manifold, where they stayed warm but not hot. They were there if we got too far a foot and were hungry with nowhere to eat. After the second day, if they weren’t eaten, they’d begin to dry out, but I usually ate them the second day if I didn’t get to them later the day I put food there to keep it warm.

I got meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and string beans. The kid got a burger and fries. He finished first and I took a five dollar bill out of my pocket.

“Take this five, go to the rear desk on the hallway we came in on. Tell the man you want a shower. Tell him I’ll be along when I done eating. Ask him to have someone in the store, and we’re going to get rid of those smelly things you are wearing and get you in a pair of jeans with clean socks and underwear.”

He reached for the five, and I’d know more when I went back to the desk to ask which shower the kid is in. This was the first meal I could linger over in two days, and I didn’t rush. This was a stop where I’d sleep for four or five hours.

“What shower did you put my kid in?” I asked the attendant.

“He’s in five. You want something from the store. It’s open, I’ll wait on you. No one is in the store this time of night.”

I guess at the kids sizes, but I had a good idea how big he was. I got a 30 inch inseam and a 30 waist. Just in case I got a belt. I got a button up shirt, small, and medium underwear. No one wanted to wear too tight undies. I took off all the pins and paper before I went into shower 5. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t take off with the five and ditch me, but he did do my windshield. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as his first desperate act indicated.

When I went in the shower, he was in the stall covered in soap. His clothes were scattered about on the floor of the room. I held my nose, picked them up, and dumped them in the trash. He’d taken everything out of his pockets and left them on the corner of the bench. I sat his new duds next to his comb and wallet.

“Come on in. The water’s fine,” Pren laughed his invitation. “This is great. I haven’t showered in two weeks.”

“How did you stand yourself?” I asked.

to do on my truck.

This guy watched me like a hawk. He had been working as a fuel jockey for truckers. He’d often thought about going with one of the truckers, but he had a good life and a girlfriend and he never did go with a trucker before.

“Wasn’t easy You kind of get use to your smell. I did anyway.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done. We’ll shower together next time,” I told him.

I rarely showered with my boys. There are things that were best done in private, and showering was one of those for me. I had boys who wanted to shower with me, and it was no skin off my nose. I managed to shower before or after each run, depending on how far I was going.

We were four hours from Winslow, and it was early Wednesday. My delivery time was eight Thursday morning. I’d go to the warehouse late that night, after dinner and before I was ready for sleep. All companies did have hours before eight, when they often opened, but the warehouse crew often came in several hours earlier, and if they did, they’d knock on my door and tell me they were ready to do my offload. Those were the best loads, because by eight, I might be on the phone to dispatch, asking for my next load.

Once he finished, he watched me undress as he dried his unruly hair. He made sure I saw him check me out. It didn’t mean a thing. Straight guys look at guy’s dicks too. I found that out by the boys who have been on my truck. A few guys will admit, got to see what the competition is packing. Any boy who checks you out as you undress, isn’t that worried if some wants to blow them.

All boys get horny. More guys than you think sit still for someone to drain their main vein. If a boy stays on the truck a week or more, they know I am gay, and I do guys. Some boys who have never had same sex, might be a little stand offish. I let my boys know I’m gay. I let them know that having sex with the driver is not part of the bargain that comes with staying on the truck.

When they wake up horny and they remember I might solve that problem. Many boys let me know they’re interested in getting off, as long as they don’t need to get me off in the bargain. Like anything involved with a sexual relationship, it often changes over time. Guys are curious and before they get off the truck, most guys have tried most things as part of their ongoing education.

The road is a funny place. Most guys are out there looking for themselves, a place, and more than a safe place and regular meals. A boy with his thumb out on the side of the highway is a free agent. He’ll consider most offers, because he’s usually going nowhere, and anywhere is a better place to be, even in another guy’s bed, if the demands don’t push the envelope too far too soon.

I often remember one of my earliest hitchhikers. Actually, he was working at a truck stop in Iowa City. His girlfriend dumped him, and he was a mess. I sat down across from him in a dark section of the dining room where he sat crying.

I told him I was a trucker. My second seat was empty, and he’d be welcome to sit in it if he was ready to hit the road. He stopped crying and he looked me over. I looked him over and he was hotter than a five dollar pistol, but that isn’t why I sat down. I love boys and if you’re a boy in trouble, I’ll take you on if you don’t object to me being gay. You will never be asked to do anything you don’t want. It took him three days of sleeping in the passenger seat, and I made it clear he could sleep in the bunk with me and most of my helpers did. That was up to him. Late one night that Iowa boy was seated in the front seat as I got ready to get in the bunk for five or six hours of sleep.

“Joe, what’s wrong with me?” the Iowa boy asked.

“Wrong with you. I don’t understand. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“You said you were gay. You haven’t touched me. I thought gay guys were always ready to get it on with other guys.”

“You said you weren’t interested in it. You sleep in the front seat. I’m not into grabbing guys, especially straight guys.”

“Joe, can we sleep together. I mean can I sleep in the bunk. This seat is a little hard on my ass.”

“As I told you, no work clothes get on my nice clean sheets. If you want to sleep in the bunk, strip and climb back with me.”

There was a curtain, but I knew how to see the passenger seat while the curtains seem to be closed. I watched him strip naked and climb over the doghouse to get in the bunk next to me.

He wasn’t simply good looking, he had a body and a half. He wasn’t missing a thing in the dick department. I had my back against the back of the bunk and he put his back to me, which meant in a twenty-eight inch bunk, his young beautiful body was against the front of my body and the parts that went with it. I was beyond aroused. He didn’t miss that little detail, but he didn’t object or make an effort to dislodge me. That Iowa boys was still hurting, and I wasn’t going to take advantage because he decided to see what gay sex was all about.

Rather than keep holding my right arm up in the air, I let it down on his right side, and then it was around a rather lovely chest. I tried not to breathe. I couldn’t believe I had my arm around him. I hadn’t expected to touch him.

“Joe?”

“Yeah.”

“You can touch me if you want. I mean I wouldn’t mind it. I’d like it if you touched me.”

“I have my arm around you. Is that okay? I mean it’s wonderful for me, but I’m gay and you’re a hot stud.”

“I mean my dick. If you want to feel my dick, it’s okay.”

The invitation was lovely, but it was obvious he’d never been with a guy, so I gritted my teeth, pulled him close to me, and my dick remained in the crack of his ass, where it had been since he stopped moving. I definitely wasn’t soft.

I felt him shaking as I relaxed while holding him close. A few times he’d been crying when I looked his way. I figured he hadn’t gotten it out of his system yet, and he hadn’t.

“This is very nice. I think maybe we’ll start with me holding you for tonight. Would that be okay if I just held you?”

He snuffled his answer, wanting to hide that he was crying again.

“Yeah, Joe.”

I’d never known a straighter guy. I mean, he was a first rate Iowa stud. He came right off the athletic field of the university there. Having him in my arms, holding him, was one of the best things I’d ever done. Yes, I wanted him as much as I ever wanted anyone. He knew nothing about being with boys when he got on my truck. He had done everything boys do, by the time he left me.

He stayed longer than most boys stayed, but after four months, and with tears in his eyes, he told me, “This is where I get off, Joe. You don’t know what a pleasure it’s been to know you. Thank you for helping me heal.”

I stopped at the Iowa City exit. That Iowa Boy climbed down off the truck. As I pulled back onto the highway, I watched him walking away from the truck to go down the ramp to the street he was on when I found him. He was going home.

People are funny. As long as I’ve been out here, I’ve met some amazing boys. By giving them a chance, and letting them do it their way, I’ve made good friends out of the boys who work for me. There are few boys who hurt me when it’s time to let them go, but that Iowa Boy was one who did. He was one of my first boys.

I was heading east on I-80 when I let him out. I felt the tears on my cheek while watching him walk away from me. I inhaled deeply. I was going to be more alone than usual for a while, but I’d be fine. I’d never been with a nicer guy. It wasn’t more than a few hours later, I was closing in on Davenport. As I got to the I-80 exit for the I-80 Truck Stop, a boy stepped up the ramp and put out his thumb. My air brakes were on, and I was watching him run for the passenger side door.

There’s always a boy around the next turn in the highway, or standing at the next ramp. I don’t think I ever went more than a few weeks without a helper.

Pren was no Iowa boy. I wasn’t sure I could trust him. I was a sucker for a boy who needed someone, but I wasn’t stupid. I needed to be on guard with him.

“These clothes mine. I’m in a world of hurt if they aren’t. I ain’t dumpster diving for those old smelly things.”

“Their for you. They’ll need to do for a while.”

He sat and watched me as I had sat watching him. He didn’t dress right away. I’d hung my clean clothes on the hooks provided, and I’d only wear those to get back to the truck. I didn’t throw my dirty clothes away. They went in the dirty clothes basket in the truck, and one day when I had time, I’d do laundry.

“When Pren stood up, as I was rinsing the final lather off me, he had an erection when he faced me. I didn’t have to wonder why he was making sure I saw it, but experience told me, be very careful with this one. He’s played this game plenty. Clean he looked way better. He still didn’t have much hair, except on his head and a little around his dick. His balls were smooth and hairless. He had a little difficulty getting his seven inches in the jeans. They were about right for a boy who didn’t have an erection. He needed to work to hide his goods.

I loved a challenge. I liked the learning process with a new boy. Pren could work out, but I wasn’t betting on it. Even when he bent over to pick up his shoes, his ass did nothing to discourage me. I knew he’d let me fuck him. I didn’t know I would fuck him. I didn’t know I’d keep him past tomorrow.

A learning experience was only okay if you lived through it. Pren was no physical threat. I out weighed him by forty pounds, but a kid who knows his way around this game would never come at a man head on. He’d come from behind.

As I dried myself, he knelt in front of me to suck me in. It did come as a surprise, because we’d been in there a half hour, and we were about to leave.

When he unzipped his jeans and fumbled to get his erection out, he started jerking himself off as he sucked. That was a surprise. He was pounding himself furiously enough to be looking for relief. A guy who didn’t suck cock, while trying to convince me he would, wouldn’t have an erection or want to get off while doing it. He was cumming on my lower leg by the time he had me where he wanted me.

“I’m going to cum in a minute if you stay down on me like that.”

I reached for the back of his head as he took me into his throat. Prentice knew his way around a dick, and I hadn’t gotten off since leaving my last helper off in Paris, Texas earlier that week.

Once I finished cumming, he leaned back on his heels and reached for the underwear he hadn’t put on to wipe his softening dick down. He wiped his cum off my lower leg as he finished up.

“How was I?” he finally asked. “You can fuck me when we get back to the truck, if you want. I can’t tell if you liked me. How was it?”

“Dangerous,” I said, pulling on my jeans. “Very dangerous.”

He laughed.

“You’ll see. For the right guy, I’m very good. You want to fuck me.”

“I like to go slow. I’ll fuck you if you stick your ass up, but I don’t trust you, Pren. I don’t know I’ll ever trust you.”

“You will. I don’t get fucked that often, but I’ll let you fuck me. How does that sound?”

“Dangerous, Pren. Very dangerous.”

The End of Run to the Cutting Edge.

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