The Pickup Truck

When Avery has car trouble, he hitches a ride with a pair of rednecks with a pickup truck. They’re eager to get a nut off, a problem Avery is eager to help with, cuz Avery loves nothing more than submitting to alpha male hillbilly manhood.

Can Avery get his truck fixed and satisfy his newfound redneck buddies?

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Avery sighed as his car rattled to a stop on the side of the road. He had just gotten the starter replaced, and now something else was wrong with it. He cursed and kicked at the car when he got out. He opened the hood as though there was some chance he could fix it.
But he didn’t know anything about cars. Unless there was a sign in the hood describing what was wrong and how to fix it, he wouldn’t have known what to do. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign. Even if there was a sign, he’d probably need help.
The engine looked normal. It was hot and dirty and greasy, and it looked just like it always did. He checked the oil because that was one of the few things he knew how to do. The oil level was fine. Well, I successfully ruled out oil, he thought, at least that’s something.
He sighed and started walking. There was no point in hanging out here, in the middle of nowhere, Bumfuck, West Virginia. He could have called AAA, but his cell phone only had a little charge left. He turned it off in case he needed it later. He knew there was a garage up the road, so he thought it would end up being quicker to walk there and arrange a repair job.
As he crested the next hill, he muttered about his car. His Kia was notoriously crappy, he had learned after owning it for a few months. This was only the latest in a series of setbacks for the car. He should have done more research before he picked it out, he thought. That must be why it was so cheap.
He was startled out of his reverie by the sight of a man on the side of the road up ahead. He was a hundred feet or so away from where Avery was overtop the hill, and he faced backwards with a thumb out. When he saw Avery, he waved.
“Howdy, brotha!” he called out.
Avery waved back. The man was shirtless, a lean and lanky redneck in a red backwards baseball cap and muddy camo pants. He was a hillbilly, Avery thought and shivered as a frisson of desire ran up his spine. Avery appreciated the male form, and this ropy-muscled young man was an ideal example.
“Howdy, friend,” said the young man when Avery got closer. He accentuated the word friend as though he called everyone his friend but really meant it this time. He had a charming, dimpled smile.
Avery giggled and said hello. “Nice to meet you,” Avery said.
The man had a Confederate flag belt buckle, and tattoos dotted his bare torso. “You hitchin’?” the man asked. He spat on the ground.
Avery shook his head. “My car broke down right over the hill. I was just going to the garage down the street.”
“Old Ray’s? That place shut down. Ol’ Ray was a fat fuck anyway. He dead now,” said the hillbilly. “Name’s Cody.”
“Nice to meetcha, Cody,” Avery said. “I’m Avery.”
He nodded. “Mah buddy is on his way to come get me. He’ll give you a ride too, reckon.”
“Thanks.”
“Gonna have to ride in the back though. In the bed of his pickup, I mean. Ain’t got room in the cab for three.”
“Okay,” Avery said.
“There he is now. His name Buck,” said Cody. His tongue rolled around in his mouth as though it was too big for him, as he sized Avery up, looking him from head to toe.
They had only gone a little ways when a beat-up red truck came from behind and pulled to a stop on the side of the road.
A beefier hillbilly stuck his head out the window. He was tall enough that he was squashed into the truck cab, and he had a furiously untamed mullet that framed his oversized head. “Need a ride, li’l hoss? You know the rule: cash, grass or ass,” Buck called out and hooted out a series of baritone laughs.
Then he saw Avery, and his eyes turned dark and hostile.
“Hey this man here had a breakdown up the road. He goin’ to Old Ray’s,” Cody said.
“Old Ray dead.”
“I told him that,” Cody said.
“Hop in, li’l hoss,” said Buck. “You got that Kia on the road a f’ur piece back?” He had a grizzled chin, with a lazy look on his face. He was much thicker than Cody and hairier. He also made Avery feel a flush of hormones and a stiffening in his cock, and Avery wondered if he could nab both of these hunky rednecks.
“Yeah, that was me,” Avery said as he got in the back. “The car just died on me.”
“Kias’ll do that. Buy ‘merican next time.”
There were blankets and pads all over the back of the rickety old pickup truck. It looked like Buck had recently helped someone move. The truck pulled away, and Avery crawled to the passenger side, where he could hear through and speak into the little window that opened into the truck cab. Cody’s arm was out the window, its reddish hue ruddening in the brilliant Alabama sun. Avery’s heart pounded as he gathered up the courage to make a proposition.
“Hey, so are you down?” Avery asked, raising his voice so Cody could hear in the truck cab. The wind was loud enough — not to mention the rackety engine — that Avery didn’t think Buck would hear. That was necessary because Cody was gonna offer to jerk him off, and he assumed Cody would want to go somewhere private, not let his buddy know that Cody was messing around on the downlow.
Cody hesitated. “Yeah. Down for what? You got pills?”
“No! I’ll jerk you off, that’s all. If you-“
“You take it in the ass too?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. “If you got somewhere private to go.”
Cody told his buddy to stop, then said something quiet enough that Avery didn’t hear. Buck laughed a deep belly laugh. His voice boomed audibly out the driver’s side window. “That boy?”
The truck shivered to a stop
Avery shivered in anticipation. Now that he heard that laugh, he was sure Buck would join in, he thought, if he could get him out from behind the wheel. But before he came up with a plan, Cody hopped into the bed of the truck.
“Ain’t never rammed no feller,” Cody said. He smiled, then blushed as the truck pulled into gear and returned to the road. He almost fell over — Buck laughed again as though he had been trying to knock Cody off-balance — then sat down next to Avery.
As soon as the truck lurched back into motion on the road again, Avery grabbed for Cody’s dick through his camo pants and stroked it. They had turned onto a rural road, so there were no cars around, but even if one came by, this truck had a very low bed with a high wall, so there was plenty of room to avoid being seen. Once Avery’s head was in Cody’s lap, only Cody’s head could be seen from outside the truck.
“Oh fuck, you that kind of freak? Daaaang…” Cody whistled. He played himself off as nonchalant, but Avery could tell he was more nervous than he let on.
Avery inhaled deeply of his musky scent, then pulled down Cody’s pants. His dick popped out of his tattered old boxers. It was long and thick, already getting hard just from Avery handling it through the fabric. Cody was young and horny, that was why, Avery thought, he must get hard so easy.
After just a few strokes, Avery lowered his head so he could swallow Cody’s cock all the way down to the root, nestling his nose deep in Cody’s pubic hair. Cody chuckled, then gasped as though he never thought it would feel this good. His eyes opened wide.
“He doin’ it furreal, yeah!” Cody yelled out to his buddy, Buck, who hooted and reached to the top of the truck, his meaty fist slamming down on the roof. He might have yelled something back, but Avery couldn’t hear it.
His dick zoomed to attention, and it throbbed in Avery’s mouth. It smelled of redneck sweat, which Avery loved, and he slurped down every drop he could get to. Cody tasted of dirt and distilled manhood, and the flavor made Avery want to cum as soon as he got a mouthful of Cody’s cock. He could taste the boisterous four-wheeling and the early morning hunting trips, wild ramps, barbecue sauce and chewing tobacco, he could even taste the unbridled patriotism.
“I love an enthusiastic mouth,” Cody said with a relaxed sigh. It sounded like he had been nervous about getting dome from a man but now was settling into it. He leaned back, resting his shoulders on the wall of the truck bed. “You better at this than most women even, you know that? You should teach lessons and-” Cody stopped talking as the truck taking a sharp turn caused him to slip all the way to the other edge of the truck bed. Avery had to crawl back over to him. The truck swerved all over the road, so Cody and Avery slid on the pads and blankets covering the bed. Cody’s cock bobbed around, and Avery chased after it.
That was fun at first, but it soon became apparent Buck was swerving the truck left and right as a prank — his baritone laughter could be heard emanating from the truck cab — and watching Cody’s naked body sliding around while Avery tried to get ahold of him.
“C’mon!” Avery called out, his voice wavering because he didn’t want to upset the giant redneck behind the wheel and because he was starting to get motion-sick from the motion.
Cody called out to his buddy, “Hey, quit swervin’, asshole!”
“Can’t you control yaself?” Buck shouted from the driver’s seat. He guffawed like a jackal.
Avery settled into the messy pickup bed the best he could with the truck sliding left and right beneath him. Underneath the pads and wadded up sheets was bright orange parkas and other gear — hunting equipment. He grabbed ahold of that stuff to keep under him, to avoid jostling too much as the truck barrelled and rattled down the road.
It didn’t seem that Buck was making any effort to keep the truck steady. He cackled with laughter every time Cody slid into the side of the truck and groaned. Buck opened the window between the cab and the bed, then he said, “Hey sissy! If you havin’ trouble findin’ it, just look for the pimple. Ain’t a pimple. Doctor says it’s a cock, just a li’l bitty withered one-“
“Shut up, Buck. Nobody gives a shit — we all know you got the biggest dick around. Nobody cares, it’s ugly, and girls don’t even like it cuz it’s too big. You got the ugliest dingdong in the world.”
“Shuddup, Cody, girls do so like my dick,” Buck said. He sounded chagrined though, like women really had said his dick was too big or too ugly or both.
That would not be a problem for Avery. He loved a big cock, and he had never seen an ugly one.
“Gonna fill you up, boy!” Cody cackled. He scooted over to block the window between the cab and the bed — that was also the center, the most stable part of the bed of the truck. He gripped Avery’s ears and held onto his head as he aimed his dick for Avery’s mouth.
Once again the wild flavor of stale hillbilly crotch-sweat filled Avery’s senses, and he swallowed as much as he could. Cody was even more into it this time, and he had no reluctance in holding Avery by the head so he could use his mouth like a pussy. He humped his dick down Avery’s throat, ignoring it each time Avery gagged.
He opened his gullet wide to let that entire cockshaft in. Avery loved how Cody visibly lost control of his muscles even though he hadn’t orgasmed yet, and his muscles rippled. Cody sucked in his breath. “Damn…” he murmured.
Precum began to flow from Cody’s cock, and Avery slurped it down like a delicacy. Cody’s whole body shook, both from the pickup truck moving beneath him and from the pleasure that exploded in his veins. His arms and legs went limp like a rag doll as Avery swallowed his dick down to the root.
“Who? That bitch?” Cody said. At first Avery thought he was talking to him and he looked up, confused, then realized Cody was talking to Buck through the window separating the cab and the bed of the truck. Avery couldn’t hear Buck’s part of the conversation. “Yeah, he’s hella better than her. She only sucked dick good in ya ‘magination, and she looked like an overinflated clown — she was not hot, you are so wrong, that was ya ‘fuckin’ oinkers’ phase — don’t gimme that ‘I need fat chicks for mah big dick shit’ — oh hell, you hafta bring up ya cock e’ery goddamn time — I don’t believe you fo’ a second about that, no women is that into big dicks — it is so ugly! It looks like a dead barbarian! — shut up, anyway, I’m gettin’ head. I don’t wanna talk to you.”
There was a commotion, and Avery looked up from Cody’s precum-oozing cocktip. Buck kept the truck rolling forward slowly, jerking every few seconds because Buck was riding the brake. He poked his burly, furry head through the window between the cab and the bed, guffawing so hard he slapped his knees as he plastered a sloppy kiss on Cody’s cheek. Cody screamed and pushed him away — he had closed his eyes, so he didn’t see until it was too late.
“You fuckin’ prick, you ruined my boner!” Cody said, trying to punch Buck through the window. He couldn’t quite reach though. Avery just kept swallowing his meat — in fact Buck’s kiss hadn’t weakened Cody’s erection in the slightest.
“Okay, ya mouth is nice, sissy, but I want some ass. A real man needs ass,” Cody said with a sigh. He pulled out of Avery’s mouth and wiped his dick off on Avery’s cheek. “Girls never wanna take it in the ass. But you do, right?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. He took a deep breath.
“You gonna take the whole thang?!” Cody asked, and Avery nodded as he gathered his breath. Cody arranged himself behind Avery — a difficult feat as the truck continued down the road. He pushed into Avery’s ass, his thick cock sending a twinge of pain up Avery’s back. He remained sitting, so Avery was in control, pushing back onto Cody’s crotch, as they got into something approaching a reverse-cowgirl position, or at least as close as they could come in a moving truck bed.
The truck pulled to a sudden stop, and Avery slid across the bed. He and Cody both bumped into the edge of the truck, this time with enough of a bang that Cody cried out in pain. The motion forced Cody’s whole cock all the way into Avery’s ass, more dick and more quickly than Avery was expecting. A howl of surprise and pain came from Avery’s mouth, and the sound quickly turned into a moan of pleasure as Cody’s cock stimulated his prostate.
Buck’s booming laugh echoed in the woods surrounding the road. He got out of the driver’s seat, then jumped into the bed — he was surprisingly limber for a big man. His damn near seven-foot-tall frame effortlessly hefted his bigness up into the truck bed. He stripped his shirt off as he moved, revealing a furry barrel chest and several tattoos: a broken heart with four drops of blood around it, a gray coiled snake on his belly, the Grateful Dead bears on his shoulder and an American flag on the side of his neck.
“Go drive for a minute, Cody,” Buck said. He frowned down at Avery’s ass, in which Cody had his cock sliding back and forth. “I ain’t know he was givin’ up the ass — all you said was dome. You best believe I’s takin’ mah turn, and it won’t be sloppy seconds from my little buddy.”
“Man-“
Since Avery was facing away, he didn’t see exactly what Buck did. But apparently it intimidated Cody enough that he gave in, and he pushed Avery off his cock. Cody hopped off the bed with his pants around his ankles, landing on the ground on his belly. He groaned in pain.
“Fuck you, Buck! He was mine! I’m the one who found him!”
“I’s bigguh,” Buck said with a shrug. He dropped his pants. He had a huge cock, as thick as a forearm, and his entire body was hairy. He was well more than a foot taller than his buddy and at least a hundred pounds heavier. He had a thick, crude face, like a caveman, like every part of his head was too big for all the other parts.
“Hi, I’m Avery-“
He didn’t even look Avery in the eye. He just grabbed him by the hair, pulled him into position for doggystyle and rammed his cock in. A burst of pain wracked Avery’s body, and he clawed at the truck bed. That pain quickly melted into an oozing pleasure, as Buck’s reawakened Avery’s sensitive prostate.
“Don’t talk,” Buck said in his gravelly baritone. “Reminds me you ain’t a chick.”
“Okay. I won’t,” Avery gasped.
“I said don’t talk,” he said. He worked his dick in deeper, holding Avery still with both hands when he squirmed in pain and tension. Avery desperately wanted to jack himself off, but he couldn’t reach his cock with his face jammed in the corner. Buck called out to his buddy, as he got in the driver’s seat. “Gonna ruin this hole for ya, lil bro.”
“Fuck you. Get down, man, someone’s gonna see you.”
Buck, it seemed, was not concerned with being seen. He stayed well atop the truck bed, so it was obvious what he was doing. Anybody going by would have seen that he could only be plowing his cock back and forth, so they’d assume he was fucking a woman, probably. This was a deserted country road though, and no cars passed by., Avery was still pretty low, so anyone driving by could see only Buck’s hairy bare ass dimpling and bouncing up and down.
“There’s only one way I know how to ram a man. Hope that’s what you is into. I only ram ‘em one way: hard and rough, just like I ram my prison bitch. You-“
“Ha! Don’t let him scare you!” Cody called out, as he was climbing into the driver’s seat. “He was in jail for two weeks. It was local county lockup. The only other person there was a ninety year old man.”
“Shut up, Cody!” Buck roared. He reached through the little window between the bed and the cab, and he tussled with Cody, who was navigating the truck back into motion on the road. When he got Cody’s nape in one hand, Cody squealed. The truck swerved, pushing Avery deeper into the corner of the truck. “That ain’t true anyway.”
Buck grabbed Avery by the hair with his other hand and pushed his head through that window between the cab and the bed. Avery moaned in ecstasy — he could finally reach his own dick, which was on the verge of ejaculating already — as his head appeared right next to Cody’s. He was so close he could smell the sweat of Cody’s unwashed armpit.
“Oh, man, get his face outta here…” Cody murmured, seemingly resigned to his buddy ignoring him. “I don’t wanna watch a man as you sodomize, Buck.”
“Yeah but fuck you,” Buck boomed. He banged on the top of the truck cab. “Hey, sissy, kiss him. He won’t hitcha or nothin’. Just kiss him. Use tongue.”
Avery placed his head in the crook of Cody’s neck. He kissed the best he could as he himself was orgasming, spraying cum all over the bed of the truck. Buck, it seemed, didn’t notice. A fat puddle of jizz spread over the bed, while Avery stuck his tongue out and slurped up the dried sweat on Cody’s skin. He tasted the dried salt crystals on the nape of Cody’s neck, as a wave of pleasure washed over him.
Cody swerved all over the road. It would have been terrifying but he was only going about five miles per hour, and there was no one else anywhere to be seen — they weren’t even on a paved road anymore, it was gravel. It was a two-lane road technically, but it was barely wide enough for the truck.
“Oh, man, get the sissy off me,” Cody said. He leaned over a bit but didn’t seriously stop Avery, who craned his neck to reach the corner of Cody’s mouth. He tried kiss Cody on the mouth, but when Cody both resisted and showed off the hardon that never went away, Avery lowered his head to swallow his meat once more instead.
Now that Avery wasn’t trying to stroke himself off, he could lean even farther through the window. He could easily get his upper half in, which was enough to put his head in Cody’s crotch. He tasted the familiar funk of Cody’s goopy erection, and Avery moaned around the shaft in his mouth.
Cody’s ass-stained cock was still half-hard. Avery picked it up and put it in his mouth before Cody even realized what was happening.
“Oh yeah, he doin’ that ass-to-mouth sheeit,” Cody said. “He swallowin’ up mah dick, sheeit!”
Buck banged on the roof again. His voice was so deep it sent a chill up Avery’s spine just as the truck went over a rough spot and jostled, which in turn caused a spasm of pain from Buck’s rod ramming into Avery’s ass. Buck laughed. “That hurt, man? Hit some more bumps there, bro.”
Cody pulled to a stop as he approached orgasm. His dick pulsated in Avery’s ass, and both rednecks moaned at once.
That was when Avery realized they were going to cum simultaneously. But he actually tasted Cody first, his youthfully spicy cum spraying into Avery’s mouth a half-second before Buck went off. Avery liked making a mess, so he didn’t swallow any of the jizz, he just held it in his mouth then let it dribble out to soak into Cody’s pubic hair and the torn upholstery of the seat. He wondered how many other nuts had been spewed in this truck.
Then a load of cum sprayed into Avery’s ass. Buck roared and pounded on the roof of the cab, then said, “Like this, bro?” He pulled his cock out at the last second and aimed into into the cab. He had to aim very precisely to get it through the window and onto his buddy’s face, and he didn’t succeed, most of it landing on Avery’s bare ass, the rest on the window frame.
Cody was gasping for air after his own orgasm so he didn’t notice right away. Then he screamed, “Oh what the fuck man?!”
“Just gettin’ you back, man, you pulled that sheeit last munf-” Buck said.
“You done got me back! You beat me up fo’ that!”
“Yeah, so? We were even, and now I’s ahead by one, which is right as sunshine, cuz I’m bigguh and stronguh and I got a bigguh cock,” Buck said. He whacked his softening meat against Avery’s asscheek.
Avery licked the cum off Cody’s cheek. Cody shuddered in disgust, then called out to Buck — who was still above the cab and couldn’t see in — “You missed me anyway. A couple drops got on my pants, that’s it.”
“Yeah right.”
“Fuck you anyway,” Buck said. He took his pants all the way off and sat on the edge of the truck bed. Avery pulled out of the window and kneeled next to him, so his head was between those trunk-like thighs. He licked the cum and assjuice off Buck’s massive dangling meat. Buck chuckled in disgust. He lit a cigarette.
“You’re a dickhead, Buck.”
“Shut up and drive home, Cody.”
“Home?”
“Yeah. I’ll get my tools. Least I can do is fix the man’s car,” Buck said. “And when I’m done, he’ll take some more cock.”

The White Trash Veteran: Chapter 1

The White Trash Veteran

The cricks and thickety hollers of West Virginia smelled just like Goose Sampson recollected. While he was gone, he wouldn’ta, couldn’ta and repeatedly did not conjure up the aroma in his imagination. It was unlike any scent his nose done made acquaintanceship with in the jungles of Vietnam. T’was fresh like snow but musty like rain, both dirtsy and woodish, earthy like a campfire and airy like a whetstone, memorable as mama and homey as hugs. He appreciated the fougère of the terroire, though Goose remained polite-nod strangers with both them words.
Carrying a poke fulla dollars and a pocket fulla pantyhose, he hurried by shanks’ mare on through the Appalachian woodlands, darting from sods to bald and back. Sirens blared yonder. Goose stopped when he got to a babbling run and sent the pantyhose floating yanway.
He knewed the area round Martinsburg like the upper sidea his pecker, and he learnt plenty about sneak-a-sleeking through the wooly wilderness of Vietnam. T’wasn’t so different here. Scurrying like a stinky sally on over muddy drafts fulla ferns and towering trees past critters and bugs and varmints chirping and growling and hissing, and there he was, a hillbilly blundering again through laps and laurel hells.
Vietnam got more wetlands, that was the only difference. T’was enough though. Goose discottoned to wetlands.
And skeeters. Vietnam got a peck of skeeters.
Of nightfall, he made it back to Smashwood Trailer Park. He was outta wind, dirty like a cellar, armpits sweat-soaked, but he sauntered in, casual as a bowl of buttermilk. The park was working alive with folks and fellers who Goose knewed since he was a boy. Did them’all know he robbed a bank? They couldn’t know, and ain’t nobody took no note of him. He returned from Vietnam a couple weeks back, so nary the whombodies got whopper-jawed at him moseying home buttermilk-like. He had a poke, t’was all. Just a knapsack, like any feller might could tote.
Nobody knewed it was fulla red-hot greenbacks.
Nobody knewed Ellen been hooking it on the other side of town neither. Ellen was Goose’s wife. They ain’t never done live in matrimony, as they jumped the broom only days before Goose shipped out to the steamy greens. Ellen done come up in the family fashion, so they got married with a hurry and a hoop-dee-hoo. Now Goose returned to the joyness of meeting his newborned son Moses and to the sadness of Ellen admitting she been turning tricks to pay the bills. Army don’t pay diddly.
Goose did more shouting than he cared to admit, and he blistered and kicked up purple, raring and pitching, then he punched a hole in the wall and regretted letting his son see that and afrearing from it, and nothing Goose could do would make him stop crying. He said no wife of his gonna go and sell her God-given ladyness to any pecker-toter with dollars and a stiffy, cuz what was the point of being a man if you can’t keep your little lady from hooking it? But he done got drafted to the other side of the ever-blesséd world, so what was he sposedta do about it? Can’t do squat! Goose screamed like a river at a dam, til Ellen begged him to stop or the neighbors gonna call the sheriff, and Goose wanna ram his noggin into the wall until something somewhere broke.
The whatnots rising in him, Goose only regained hisself when he saw Vietnameys watching him like sentries from the woods behind the trailer. That turned out to be an illusion, but it got Goose calm as a clam, sending Ellen and Moses inside. Then he felt hisself a fool when he reckoned t’was just some shadowy tree swaying in the breeze, and he pretended ain’t nothing happen. He don’t want Ellen to think he couldn’t cope or Moses to think his pops was fearful.
So he steeled up for the woman and the boy. They got needs, and a rock don’t. He ain’t think twice about giving Ellen the cash-money from the robbery. “Don’t spend it all at oncet,” he said.
And he felt bad that he felt good about leaving. He gotsta skedaddle while the heat was on. And he gotsta go less he lose control of his fists again. That boy ain’t a wall, and the lady ain’t a soldier.
She nodded, and she whispered, “Thank you…”. She kissed Goose upon the cheek. That felt good. Damn good. Something about tenderness from a lady reassures a man he is alright and cures a touchous soul. Her lips wouldn’t tremble so soft-like if he was a monster. Ellen wouldn’t kiss a john the way she kissed Goose. He ain’t tell her not to whore it out no more cuz it was implied from the hole in the wall and cuz he ain’t want her to lie and say she would quit off when she really wouldn’t.
The only thing better than kissing Ellen was playing with his son — Moses, but Ellen said everwhom was calling him Buck, cuz he be climbing like a goat. Goose liked that, cuz he was called Buck as a tyke too, on account of his buck teeth. Ellen ain’t know that when she fell to calling Moses Buck.
Buck afreared Goose all afternoon. He ain’t never met the hairy stranger — Goose been letting his hair and his beard go wild now that he ain’t got a sergeant jawing at him about it — it was still coming in dry and coarse though, only gradually returning to health. When Goose smiled like a lamb and pooped down onto the floor of the trailer at Buck’s height to vroom-vroom with his toy truck, Buck giggled and played along. He clum on Goose’s back and rode him like a pony.
Playtime was interrupted when there came a knocky-knock upon the trailer door. It was Anita Daylily, a high-headed whomgoody with a puff of hair and her muff in a huff that some policeman was on the wander, asking if anybody in the trailer park seen Goose — course he asked after his real name, Martin Sampson.
Ain’t nobody in the park gonna make it easy on a policeman. Goose was from round here. Officer Whomsoever was not. Or maybe he was, Goose don’t know. Anyway, that was his cue to scram. Some snoop-nose peckerwood at the bank musta reckonized his voice.
“I gotta go, son,” Goose said. He got down upon his knee to give li’l Moses a big hug goodbye. “Moses…”
“Bye.” T’was all li’l Moses Buck said. He weren’t muchuva talker yet.
Goose kissed him goodbye, and he kissed Ellen goodbye too but in a different way, then he went on back to bush in the wilds up behind Smashwood. He ain’t wanna whisk off, but he ain’t wanna stay even harder. It was better this way, for him to be gone. He gotsta get a grip on hisself, and a man gotsta do that alone.
The world seemed right before the war, right in a way he couldn’t perceive then or articulate now. Expectations done broke, he thought. Goose went to war, he pulled the appropriate trigger at appropriate times, he followed orders mostly, he came back alive, he got money, he gave it to a woman to spend. He did his part. He completed the minimum requisited of a man. But it felt like he done jack up every single thing in the world. He was a retard in boot camp, he dropped his rifle, he got scared as a bunny, he was captured, needed rescue, he lost, he failed, he fell, he wailed. He could get done up by the Vietnameys prolly crawly-trawling the countryside anytime. He done develop a sixth sense about ’em, and it been twinging like a siren. Ain’t quit off since Muck Dan Foo. He don’t wanna go look in the woods lest he either get took captive again or see that he imagined phantoms.
He stayed on the hoof, alert but hazed. He gotsta hide til the cops stop looking for him, wander til the sun sets, lay awake til the dawn comes. One day at a time.
He left Smashwood Trailer Park, but in a way, it felt like he ain’t never return from the Army. He only ever left Smashwood once really. Wise honkies say home is the place where, when you show up, they have to take you in. But war is too. Dumb hillbilly says home is the place where, once you leave, you can never return. War is that too.
The road ran to the highway, and Goose stayed parallel to it so nary a cop or a Vietnamey could see him. They did that in Vietnam, staying parallel to rivers, not roads, but it was the same idea. A river was just the universe’s road. If the Army controlled a river, they’d travel on a riverboat afloat, but if the Vietnameys did, they’d walk parallel to the river, far enough away to be unseen from it.
He noodled on a destination, any one would do, so long as it was away from Ellen and the boy and the skeeters and slant-eyed jaspers of Vietnam. He armybooted through the woods till he wound up on the highway. Rambling along the roadside for a spell, he let his mind dangle like a rod. Plans formed like constellations, but Goose bit back the bubbles of his notions and pondered like a buddha.
The camp cook Sam learned him pondering, but moments jumbled and mixed like phuh. Goose put one foot in front of the other, like the first drop of water striking out a path to sea. T’was hard to build a river with cops and Vietcong and Ellen’s johns blocking the route.
He might as well hitch a ride, he thought, so he thumbed out. It was mostuva hour before a truck pulled over, a big rig hauling cabbages to Roanoke, Virginia. The truck cab smelled of raw cabbage and chewing tobacco.
T’was good enough for Goose, who said he wanna go to Roanoke too. The trucker got a calypso song playing on the eight-track, and Goose wondered why a white man got a feel for calypso, but Goose ain’t ask after it. Goose was in boot camp with a Trinidadian feller, who did flop his dingdong on the regular to calypso records. Goose got no quarrel with calypso.
The driver was Buford, a right-country sumbitch with a ruddynut face and a extra-ruddy mustache that drooped in two lines down to his chin. He got a big head of curly hair.
“You was in the Army?” Buford asked.
Goose dunno how that Buford could tell he was Army. Maybe he done seed Goose’s dog-tags or something. Maybe he just assumpted — Goose weren’t cowering in Canada, and he looked too dumb for the Air Force and too tough for the Navy. Goose said, “Yessuh.”
Buford nodded. “I’s a Navy man, mahself.”
“Oh, tha’ss nice, didya enjoy ya vacation durin’ the war?” Goose said with one whoop, two guffaws and a series of slaps upon his knee.
Buford laughed along with him, and them two swapped insults and war stories like ornery nurses. Turnt out they was both in the same engagement in Na Doong. They might well have done pop off at the same damn gook. Felt good to know it, it settled the cockles of Goose’s manhood. The war was only over a couple months ago, so it warmed his heart to speak of it like history.
But it lingered upon his mind like only the present could. The future stopped the moment he arrived in Vietnam, and Goose ain’t slow his uppermostness down, not then, not now. The past might could still pop outta the woods anytime. There oughta be a after-war boot camp, so somebody could demonstrate that there was a thing called Not-War and that he was in it.
“Hey, you got cash for gas?” Buford asked when they pulled over at a gas station.
“No, suh,” Goose said.
“You got grass?”
Goose shook his head.
“Hmmh… hmm.” Buford said. He got out to pay for the gas hisself.
But Goose reckonized what that murmur meant. A Navy man can’t help hisself. Buford hoped Goose to pay up in cash, grass or ass. That’s how hitchhiking works out in the country.
But Goose don’t give up his bootyhole if he can help it, so when Buford returned, Goose said, “I’ll get’cha started, Buford. But if’n you go’n make me give up the bootyhole, lemme off right now.”
Buford made a dismissive snort. “I ain’t a niggruh,” he said. “I don’t wan’cha rear.” He unzipped his jeans and pulled out a long fat cock. He gave it a couple strokes, then leaned back in the driver’s seat the best he could while still steering the truck onto the highway.
“Sheeit,” Goose said as he wrapped one hand around Buford’s meaty cock. “You Navy men is all the same.” Goose leaned over and put his mouth upon Buford’s knob. It twitched against Goose’s lips when Buford laughed.
“Army is jealous cuz a sailor’s dick do work,” Buford said. He put his left hand upon Goose’s head to push it deeper on his shaft, while his right hand stayed upon the steering wheel. “Ship got no place for a limp dick. Send ’em to the Army!” He cackled. “Or the Marines, I don’t vouch for them.”
Goose made some mouthy noises to communify that he disagreed with Buford’s as to regarding the Army, but he ain’t stop slurping and also don’t dispute the Marine Corps’s reputation. He don’t welch. Goose do what he gotsto. He done so numberous times before, and he likeish would again.
In any case, he know how to get a man going. He commenced to batter Buford’s knobtip with his tongue, and he slicked his lips up and down the shaft. Lotta fellers don’t realize jackin’ a man off with ya tongue is the same as doing it with ya hands — you don’t gotta taste it longer than it takes, just move ya lips up and down same as you would ya hand. If a man’s dick works, it’ll happen quick as candy.
Sure enough, Buford got to leaking prenut in no time. When Goose tasted it, he pulled off, but he kept stroking it with one hand. T’was called ‘starting it off’. Leastways that was what they called it in the Army. Navy prolly calls it ‘e’ry morn’ b’fore breakfast’! They do that, they do be like that. Never get put in the brig on a Navy base, or you gonna taste more meat than a vulture, Goose learnt that good. He learnt that like math.
Buford held onto his head, jabbing at his face and trying a-force Goose to put it back in his mouth. Goose did plant his tongue upon the tip a couple times to mollify Buford, but the taste of pre-jizz got him gagging, qualmish. Buford couldn’t tussle with his head too much while steering, ‘specially once he got close to busting a nut.
Stroking Buford’s dingus fast as a badger, Goose got both hands upon it. His left hand worked the shaft, and his right hand squeezed the base. Buford’s dick was big enough to accommodate both hands. The precum flowed like wine, lubing up Goose’s mitts.
“Ah, wait, wait, here I go, wait, shit…” Buford sucked in his breath. His cock went throbby-lobby like an alien beast, and Goose hurried his rhythm. Buford grunted like it hurt. “Wait, ah, shit, wait, got it, shit-” He cut his own self off with a hiss.
A fat spurt of jizz came outta his dick, jetting into the air and landing back in his hairy crotch. Goose ain’t stop stroking, even when his hand was coated in ackempucky. He kept working Buford’s meat up and down till his balls was good and drained. Cum got all the way up Goose’s arm to his bicep, but he ain’t miss a beat.
Buford’s dick roped limply in Goose’s left hand even before plopping out one final wad of fatness, but Goose leggo with his right hand. Buford was still making noises, whole body contorting, his veiny shaft still throbbing. Then at last Buford sighed and twitched, and a few final drops dribbled into Goose’s grip.
Goose leggo. He wiped up the gom with a napkin, while Buford tucked his man-meat away and redid his jeans with one hand. His other hand stayed on the wheel.
“A Navy man j’st can’t help hisself,” Goose said with a chuckle and a mournful whistle. “You know you ain’t gotta get a man to jerk ya meat? You can stick it in a woman.”
Buford laughed and countered that Goose’s face was ugly as pussy, which worked on two levels, then he turned up the volume on the eight-track. That calypso jangled out bright and clear. Goose liked that. T’was good music to whisk off unthoughted, its lively beat like a river’s current carrying Goose away to benighted shores, and the best part was that it don’t sound nothing like Vietnam.