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VigoRxChapter 2 - The DrivePart 4 - Getting Off the Beaten PathThree Hours and Twenty Minutes on the RoadTo the chorus of thunderous snores, Brett pulls into a lot. Skimming his finger along a line, he comes to a T branching to the right. He glances at the sign at the far end of the lot. Cleary Bluff. Back to the paper. Cleary Bluff. That's Bob's road. They're fifteen minutes from the cabin. Brett looks at the wet spot growing over his left thigh. He figures he's about five minutes from busting in then through these swim trunks at best. The math isn't in his favor.No food, soon to have no clothes, Brett sizes up the general store beside him. He runs scenarios about how this is going to work. The one his mind keeps rerunning is the scenario of a cute rustic man running the counter and an impromptu fling ensues. He kicks at the hormones reeling about in his mind. He instructs himself, "Food, get out," and pushes open the door. Marching in boots, tight short cut swim trunks, knee high socks and a Christmas sweater, Brett sinks his eyes on the door and b-lines it from his white snoring van with the large dent in the roof towards the rustic screen door and the likely mountain hick inside.    Inside the General StoreSamuel flicks through the magazine, glancing at pristine parts upon beautifully kept bodies, naked as God intended, doing acts that God had not. A buxom blond fondles her assets, while she licks at the protruding parts of a large Mexican who is tattooed like Samoan piece of art. The pages flip them about in a comical fashion, never penetrating, fixed faces trying to look intense or ecstatic. Despite an eight page spread, there's not a bead of sweat on either. Staring at every bulging sinewy muscle, Samuel murmurs, "Been workin' hard there, tats?"The door swings open. Samuel lazily peals up to meet a set of blue eyes inset to a pair of intense solemn brows. He catches them midway eying him up to his two day scruffy constantly smirking face and down to where the lean gut disappears at the counter. Samuel's grin gets a little wider. He pushes his hip out and displays his scrappy mountain boy build, while pretending to fluff his month old buzz cut. He teasingly greets with alluring inflection, "Why hello there, stranger." Leaning over the counter and propping his chin onto his hands, batting his eyes, he adds mock seductively, "What can I do for you?"    Samuel hears the blond head grumble quietly either, "Shit. He is hot," or, "Shit. What a twat." He guessed the second one. The man darts for the shelves with a hand basket in grip.  Samuel leans back over his magazine. "Just fuckin' with you sir," Samuel chuckles, "unless you're into that sort of thing of course." The man looks at him over the top of an isle. Samuel throws him a wink and smiles all the wilder. "Let me know if you need any help." The guy looks away. Samuel chuckles, "And I mean any type of help."Samuel's face drops back to its usually amount of mused smirk, and he thumbs to another page of his magazine. The sound of cans being grabbed and rifling starts coming back and forth through the isle. Curious he looks back up. He tries to get a better look of the guy. He could see he has a friendly face but screwed tight and concerned. The guy had the oddest white hair and red streaks running down around the sides of his face. Samuel mused that he must have gotten a sunburn with a pitcher mask on. Samuel gets a knee up on his counter and looks down over the shelf, eliciting a surprised glance from the man. Samuel notes the man is wearing something red with a green triangle leading up his left. As the blond turns away looking self conscious, a Christmas star at the tip comes into view.    Samuel gets back down. "How's it going, Christmas carol?" Samuel asks curious."Err... Been better," the figure replies, picking up, reading and then scooping the entire shelf of cans into his basket. Dragging thirty pounds of beans, lentils, spam and chunky soup, he drops it on the counter.Samuel catches a glimpse at the lower half as he clomps forward. "That's a pretty creative ensemble, you got there," he playfully teases. Swooping can after can across the scanner, he adds, "I especially like the short shorts. I don't have to imagine so hard."  Smirking he shoots a wink to the stranger.The stranger winces. Leaning forward and grunting. He steadies himself on the counter.  Samuel pauses. "You okay, man?" The guy stands back up, an embarrassed smile on his face. "Yeah, I'm fine." He groans, "Odd day."Samuel points at a wet line seeping out down the center of his sweater. "You sure. Looks like you're sweating a bit."The man looks. He utters a resigned, "ah shit." Sighing, a blush moving into his cheeks, he nods saying, "My house burned up. All I could grab was a sweater, and it has to be about ninety out."  "Seventy here, slick." Samuel informs. "What city are you coming from?" he asks, leaning in.The stranger hunches over a bit more, grunts twice. A couple more lines of sweat start to darken the red. "Um..  the big one."  He smirks.Samuel starts to smell a salty musk off the man and leans back up. "Well, that's an interesting funk.." causing the stranger to blush.  Samuel stands up and walks against the far wall, where the trucker hats and country discs sit. Speaking over a shoulder, he says, "The big city, that's got to be a few hours drive. Why are you all the way out here?"  "Actually, I'm going up Cleary Bluff right here. I'm a friend of Dr. Stevens-schletzer-Schmidt.""Oh Bob, eh? I take care of his horses most of the year." A voice calls hidden behind calenders and truck crap.  The man grunts, as he adjust the drooling cock under his sweater, trying to make it not rub. He grabs some used packing tape from an open box of chip bags and ties it uncomfortably against his belly. "Yeah. Bob said I could come up here and take a break while the house is being worked on. Probably be here for a few months."  Samuel pops out behind a rack of cassettes. The guy tugs his shirt back quickly down. Looking up, Samuel tosses a stick of deodorant and pair of pants Brett's way. "I don't mind the look or the smell, but if any cute ladies come a courting, you may want to cover a couple of things up. Size 28, right?"The man looks up. "Yeah.. How did you know?""That's the size of all the sissy city boys," he laughs.The slim man slinks the pants up. He blushes as scruffy Samuel coolly sits back, watching how they fit down around the hips and inseam. The stranger turns away as the zipper pulls the crotch tight. He hunches over and grunts spastic, his back arching repeatedly. The guy stands up slowly after a minute and stretches his legs with a long appreciative moan. Striking up a diversionary conversation, the stranger stammers, "I didn't think you'd have clothes."Samuel eyes the stranger sideways with a bit of pause, "We get all sorts of folks out here, all funky and needing a change. You see a few chunky truckers with split seats, you get to thinking there's a profit to be made." The briny scent on the stranger was oddly strong suddenly.  The stranger turns partly, cheeks flush, sweaty and his sweater soaked in the front now.  "Don't suppose you have any really large ones, like 50, do you?" The man asks curiously.Samuel replies, "We're a trucker stop. That's most of our clientele." Samuel walks back and grips some bib overalls large enough to camp in. He jokingly tosses it to the blond. "These make good tents, too."The blond pulls it wide at the waist to judge. Seeming a bit more gathered and calm, he says, "Perfect, actually. How many of these do you have?"Samuel eyes the blond queerly sideways. "Letting yourself go?" He asks grabbing three from the back of the rack. The man catches them. He shrugs with a smirk and says, "Guess you could say that."Samuel comes back around the counter, arm wrapped around a wad of white cloth. "Here's something for you now," he smiles handing him a T-shirt saying twinky king. Samuel, with his constant smirk adds, "I don't know why you want to ruin those fine city boy lines, but when you finish all these cans, these should fit about anybody." He drops the large wad of cloth beside it and leans against the counter.  The man stares a moment down Samuel draped across the counter, and turns away embarassed. He leans for a bit, then coughs coming to a stand. His voice breaks, "how much do I owe you?" He digs down bellow the pants and pulls a wallet. The guy hands it sideways to him, not ever fully turning to look back. Samuel rings him up, adding a nice twenty dollar tip. Bagging, that mild smirk of his disappears as he watches concerned as the man's sweater drips sweat onto the bibs.  Watching the man rub his brow and groan, Samuel nods to himself. He grabs the two bags and walks past the man. "C'mon. I'll drive you up there," he says motioning with a head jerk as he passes. Planting a bag, he flips the closed sign outwards, along with a Beware of Dog sign. Backing out the door, he asks, "Keys in the car?"The man shakes his head vigorously. "No. You shouldn't."Samuel holds the door with his foot. Pointing with a bag hand, he says, "Look at yah. You're sweater is soaked, you're groaning like moose in heat. You're not driving anywhere."  The man looks at him, panting. "I don't think this is a good idea.""You don't have a choice. I can hear your van running out there. Now, I'm going to take your van and go feed the horses. Your only choice is if you're going to sleep here or hitch a ride, slick."The man hobbles forward, trying to stop Samuel. "Don't go in there.."Samuel smirks back at the blond. "Too late, bud." He pops the side door open. Already raising the bags into the vehicle, he pauses.The man comes up beside him. Sighing, he says, "As you can see, the car isn't running. That's snoring."Samuel cringes, throws the bags in against some long thighs and closes the door. Turning back, eyes wide, "Guess I can see why you got the big clothes."The two look at one another, both concerned and both waiting for the other to speak first. The stranger awkwardly hooks a hand out, open for a shake. Samuel cocks an eye and grips it. "Brett," the stranger says."Samuel.""I could actually use that drive, if you don't mind?" Brett asks.Fifteen Minutes more on the Road  Samuel pulls the shift into park, and turns off the vehicle, but the snores keep the vehicle humming."So again, aren't you going to tell me what's going on back there?" he asks stepping out the van.Brett shakes his head, "Can we skip that for now?""You're going to tell me sooner or later, Christmas carol." Samuel states, leaning in the window.Brett shrugs, smiling sheepishly, "How about later?"Samuel drops his head. The smirk returns with a few nods. "Alright slick, we'll see about that. I'll be back later to hear what you've made up."He waves goodbye to Brett and starts back the road towards his shop. Brett steps out the van and shouts a, "Thanks," to him. Samuel spins around and points his fingers like a couple of guns. He shoots a, "no problem," Brett's way. Samuel catches Brett cock a smitten smile, as he turns to carrying the bags to the house.Switching from cool demeanor, to clumsy swiftness, Samuel scrambles off the road into some brush, ducking quick. Brett drops the bags on the porch and looks to where Samuel was, squinting to see any sign of the cowboy. Not seeing anything, he strips the sweater off and onto the rail. He turns, ripping some tape off his gut and looses his zipper, letting a good foot of cock swing free along with a breath of relief.  Samuel parts the brush and gawks at Brett, who purposely grips the biggest cock he'd seen just bellow the head. Brett immediately shivers, hunching in the process. Samuel looks at the sweater dripping on the rail, then back at the shaft dribbling like a faucet. He mutters a few expletives, realizing what the shirt was actually soaked with. It also dawns on him why everything smelled briny.  Brett looks about, sees the barn. He turns towards the red building, stroking his cock as he struts. Brett disappears inside. Samuel ducks out from the brush. Keeping low, he darts for the back of the barn. Jumping through the fence wires, he comes up through the pasture, and leans an eye in between a gap in the slats.Harassing his eye, Samuel stares down a wet long slit. He jerks back surprised, but then peeks back in. The member bobs and wiggles, as the length gets stroked fully. Along the slit a long gel dribbles off. The head swings out of view. Samuel catches a glimpse of hip, a further view of denim and spine. Brett stumbles away from him out into the barn, chest heaving, body flexing again and again.  Inside, Brett sturdies an arm onto a post, while his other arm works his own post. Huffing, he runs his hand down to the end and rolls it up around the head, sending shocks along his cock and spine and coating his hand thick in musky precum. He drags his hand back up along the shaft, pulling the wetness with it until his hand wipes dry. He goes back and repeats dragging the precum along until the hole length glistens and glides. He strokes full, from where balls hang from the open crotch of the jeans to head, flicking the tip feverishly after every few strokes. Lost in long moments of extreme pleasure, he barely wakes from his rutting to feel the new sensation building.Samuel squints, not sure how his eyes are tricking him. Brett's cock is getting longer. Samuel watches rapt as Brett stumbles back, moaning wildly while his hand runs long and longer along the cock that's somehow getting away from him. Brett falls onto a knee and pivots as he hunches. He plants a palm to keep himself from hitting the ground, while his other runs two foot long swaths along the beast that was driving his senses off kilter.    Samuel was caught in an off perspective. Brett had fallen aiming at him. All he could see was a cock head, like two fists held together. The flared head moves out towards the light, as it edges longer.  It gets to where Brett reaches it with his tongue. Samuel just waits, stroking his own hard dick through the fabric of his jeans. Dropping a lower hanging silhouette, two hefty balls descend back between Brett's legs to where Samuel can see. Samuel grunts, pressing his cock as it spurts an excited drop down along his right thigh.Brett cries out, arching his back. His face pained, he drops all hands to the ground and bucks. The cock thrusts out into the light, and the maddened red head hardens. A burst of white buckshots out, striking all about with the strength of hail. Samuel falls back, shocked. White dribbles start to show through the gaps in the wall. Another hard pelting strikes the wall, and Samuel scrambles back in smiling, whipping his cock out on the way. Through the slat, Samuel sees long dribbles of white fluid stream down the sides of the peep slit. Samuel catches Brett sitting up, bucking his enormous prick out into the air as the third shot breaks loose, striking the ceiling and wall above. The room starts to rain driblets from the rafters, and Brett has his arms up wrapping around the back of his neck. His taught gut flexes eight beautiful abs, as the body thrusts forward possessed. A long hose of cum ropes out, making the wall to Samuel's right cry out as it concusses. Samuel glances as a puddle builds by his foot from all the volume slipping down. Another rope, and another, Brett roars with each.  Samuel notices the roars are getting louder and lower. He stops watching the bursts, that were now only going several feet, even though impressive. Leaning back, the man that bought most his store was straining his new pants heavily at the thigh. With a long rip, legs like trunks, hairy blond, brake free. The tension along the seams keeps popping away bits, as the flesh reveals from thigh to calf. The belt line of the blue jeans, even unzipped and free, whines with tension. Samuel looks up to the abdomen flexing the fly, the hairless twink wasn't so hairless anymore. Running up the deep abdominal valley, from pubes to chest, was a coat of fine yellow fuzz. The short fuzz brambles out, creating a nice covering of curls. Brett comes back forward, sitting straight. The previously stretching muscle contracts back into full shape, dropping into view luscious muscular mounds. Slabs of fibrous meat, that fit his body like armor, cover this once lithe looking man's frame. The cock releases its last few gushes, and Brett stands heaving, while his body breaks the last remnants of his clothes. His body levels off its growth as he stands, his chin coming into level with the ten foot high rafters.    The beast shudders, shaking off the ripples of sensation. Stretching with long moans, his body pops a few tension spots that are still adjusting to the new size. Samuel pants under his breath, shaking loose last long dribbles from his spent cock. He cocks his head, shuts his eyes, as his body shudders under the last pangs of pleasure. Slowly he opens his dreamy eyes and sees his own strings of cum falling down to meet the deluge seeping out under the red siding. Samuel pulls the dusty handkerchief from from his back pocket and grabs a great dallop of the monster's mess.  He plunges the soppy mess into his flannel breast pocket, and the scent strikes him richly. Samuel dips a four fingers in and grips his half hard cock. He greases his prick up and down. Reaching for more, he rolls it down around his balls. Going between the legs, he lets it wet back into his crack. He takes another soppy few fingers full, and starts stroking his cock back hard.  Leaning in, he peeps for the giant. A long calf disappears out the far door, followed by the giant shadow following. Another large shadow raises up beside, and Samuel hears a cheery voice exclaim, "Nice!" Samuel hears Brett's now richer voice reply an exacerbated, "Holy shit!" Another voice agrees, "I know. Fricken fantastic, isn't it?" A stout gray haired giant walks out into the door and eyes about the barn. A familiar voice cries, "what did you do to my barn?"  Samuel stumbles back. He hears an octave too deep version of Bob's voice chuckle and chide about the mess. Feeling a moment of disorientation and unease from the distorted voice of his occasional neighbor, Samuel tucks his sticky cock back in his pants and quietly buckles them shut. He leans in one last time, peering to see the crowd of Adonises, gather and gawk at Brett's work. Each perfect in their own way, Samuel marvels, his cock partially hard and urging his thigh. Reluctantly he backs away, aware the men would soon start checking out their surroundings and likely find him. He turns and moves through the pasture to where he knows he can meet the road.