HIS69-490 Trucker Sucker
Trucker Sucker
HIS69
HIS-490
Ward Michaels
$3.95
Trucker Sucker
HIS69
HIS-490
Ward Michaels
$3.95
Excerpt
“Just feel his shirt, Dred. You won’t believe how wet it is.”
Dred brought his hand up to join Pat’s. He reached into the opening in the front of Brad’s coat so that his fingertips rested squarely on his sensitive nipple. He pressed against the tiny tab of flesh, rubbing it lightly through the damp fabric of the youth’s tee-shirt. “I see what you mean. Sure is wet all right. Let’s see if you’re that wet all over.” Before Brad could say anything, Dred moved his hand down to his thigh. He squeezed it firmly. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Pants are soaked through too. Just feel his leg, Pat.”
Placing his palm on Brad’s right knee, Pat said, “You’re right. We better do something about it right away.” With that, he moved his hand up nearly to Brad’s crotch. The boy let out a gasp.
“Listen to that. He’s starting to wheeze. We have to get him out of those wet clothes before he catches pneumonia.”
“No, don’t bother. I’m fine, really.”
“No bother at all. We’d do the same for any guy, wouldn’t we, Pat?”
“Sure. Any guy.” Before Brad could do anything to stop him, Pat was helping him out of his mud-spattered jacket. He allowed the man to remove the jacket without any kind of struggle, suddenly realizing how very tired he was.
Pat put the jacket at his feet. “Hope you don’t mind my throwing it on the floor,” he said. “It’s gonna need a trip to the cleaner before you can wear it again anyway.”
Brad told him he did not mind. He was past caring about anything. All he wanted, now that he was safely out of the storm was to catch a few hours sleep.
“Now the shirt,” Pat said, boldly pulling the tail of Brad’s torso-hugging tee-shirt out of his beltline. Before Brad could make any protest, Pat yanked the shirt upward, exposing the boy’s slim, well-muscled chest. “Lift your arms,” he commanded.
Brad did as he was told, and Pat pulled the soaking shirt off over his head.
“Take off your shoes,” Dred said. “They have to be all wet too. They must be pretty uncomfortable by now.”
“They are,” Brad agreed. He proceeded to untie his sneakers, struggling with the wet laces. At last he had them off.
“Just put ‘em on the floor,” Pat told him. “They’ll be just fine when they’ve had a chance to dry out.”
Brad hoped the man was right. They were the only shoes he had, and he was not sure he had enough cash to buy another pair and still keep himself fed.
“How about your socks,” Dred growled, his eyes still on the highway.
Brad peeled off his white socks and threw them down next to his shoes. Now he sat dressed in nothing but his mud-encrusted jeans. Surely they did not expect him to take them off as well.
“Well?” Pat said after a moment.
“Well what?”
“Are you going to take your pants off or not? They’ve got to be just as uncomfortable as everything else you were wearing out in that rain, probably more so. They must be binding your crotch something fierce.”
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