On the Road Home

You are on Nifty reading erotic stories in the Gay Authoritarian section. If you don't like Gay BDSM sex don't read this.

This is a stand alone story and I don't currently plan on writing any future chapters, although, this is also my first story and I may post others later. However, I do welcome polite constructive comments. You can reach me at StoryBoy@tutanota.com

If you enjoy this and can afford to do so, please donate to Nifty.

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Randy's heart sank to the pit of his stomach as his car coasted onto the shoulder of the road with a belch of black exhaust and a grinding rattle from the engine. Curse the GPS that had taken him off the highway and down this country road. He sucked in his breath, wondering if he even had cellphone reception before it clicked that, if he still had GPS, he still had a phone. Fortunately, he also had road service and within a minute, he was connected to a friendly operator who tried to reassure him that all would be well. James Crouse was the only provider in the area but he had five star rating and a wrecker would be there in twenty minutes.

Randy didn't think there was any point in explaining that he was pretty sure the engine was dead and he hardly had the money to fix it anyway. He had left Tampa six hours ago with everything he owned packed in four suitcases, stuffed in the back of his fifteen year-old Toyota Corolla. They were supposed to last forever but no car actually lasts forever. This whole adventure had started six months earlier when a drunken bet had ended with him sending half a dozen nude pics off to a porn company in San Francisco. The next morning, he barely remembered doing it and certainly didn't expect a response. He was a cute Twink but a long way from being a Twunk. Still, several months later, he had an email in his In Box. Several weeks of texting, phone calls, negotiating, and soul searching and Randy had agreed to pack up and head for San Francisco with a movie contract in his Gmail folder tagged "Porn Star." But now he was fucked. Or more like, who knows how long it would be before he got fucked.

A beat up blue wrecker pulled off the road in front of Randy's dead Toyota and young bear cub just a few years older than Randy jumped down out of the cab. If Randy hadn't been on the verge of losing his shit, he would have been turned on. He got out of the car and met the cub half-way. The wrecker driver gave Randy a sunny smile and said, "I'm Lil' Jim, you need a tow?" Then giving Randy the once over his gaydar pinged, his smile turned a shade more sexy and he added, "but you can call me Jimmy. Let's see if we can't get under your hood and get that engine humming."

If Randy hadn't been on the shoulder of a country road in south central Georgia talking to a redneck mechanic, he would have thought this guy was coming on to him. As it was, a roadside blow job was the last thing on his mind. He started to tell Jimmy how the car had died and the engine wasn't even turning over anymore but actually putting his situation into words was too much and he started to sob. Then, his face red with embarrassment and the fear of what this guy would think, he did the only other thing he could, curse, " Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me dead!" He turned away, face in his hands, willing tears not to come.

Randy felt a hand on his shoulder and Jimmy's soft voice in his ear, "Dude! It ok. Your in a bad spot. I get it. But one step at a time. First, we get your car on the truck. Then we get it back to the shop. Then we go from there. I got you, though, ok?" He put his arms around the distraught boy and hugged him tight. In his mind, part of Randy wanted to slump into this sweet guy's arms and cry himself breathless, while another part wanted fall to his knees and yank the guy's greasy pants down around his ankles. As it was, Jimmy's sympathy gave him the strength to pull himself together. Before Randy knew it, his car was on the back of the wrecker and he was climbing up into the passenger seat.

Back at the cinder block roadside mechanic's shop/ gas station/ used car lot, they unloaded the Toyota and Randy met Big Jim. Another bear, in his early 40's, Big Jim looked almost like he could be Lil' Jim's father except there wasn't enough difference in their ages to make that possible. Both men were dark haired and furry, with glow-in-the-dark blue eyes. Lil Jim had a thick fu manchu mustache, while Big Jim had a well trimmed full beard. Both shared pearly white smiles and a gentle confidence underneath their country boy exteriors.

It didn't take Big Jim more than a moment to realize that the car was toast. It took even less time for him to assess the situation of the haggard trembling young man in front of him. Like his partner, his gaydar pinged hard, but it wouldn't have mattered at that point. This boy clearly needed help. He had already sent Jimmy to the drink cooler for some cokes. Big Jim asked Randy, "When's the last time you ate? Not much down here but chips and snack cakes but you need something in your stomach. My treat," he added, if it wasn't clear. Randy declined, secretly afraid that anything he ate might come back up.

"Well, just go grab whatever, if you change your mind," Big Jim took a deep breath, "I'm afraid there is nothing but bad news. But you already know that." Randy's shoulders slumped and the tears welled up in his eyes again. He knew, but having the man who was his last hope tell him was just yet another blow. He figured they would be nice enough to drive him to the nearest small town but then what the fuck? His own gaydar was starting to chime. Maybe they would drive him to the nearest highway rest stop and he could sell his ass to some trucker for a ride to San Francisco. Seriously.

Randy's spiral of self pity has interrupted by Big Jim's hand on his knee. "Look, we aren't putting you on the side of the road out there. We got a house up the hill with a spare room and, at the very least you are going to eat some dinner and spend the night." He turned to his partner, "Jimmy, it's quitin' time, anyway. Turn the pumps off, roll down the bay doors, and bring us some beer. This boy needs something stronger than Coke." "Yes, Sir," Jimmy said heading off into the back of the shop.

Randy was, if not relieved, at least pulling back from the brink of a full on breakdown. "Thank you," he stammered his voice quivering, "I appreciate this. I really really do, and I'll be out of your way as soon as I can. I don't know. Take me to the highway tomorrow and I'll start hitching. Guess I'll need to pack a smaller bag," reality washed over him again with the reality of his dire straits.

Even though Big Jim hadn't told him to, Jimmy came back with four beers and handed Randy two of them. "Just drink the first one straight down. You need it," always ready with a quip, he stopped himself just short of adding, "It's not like your driving." Jimmy didn't have many filters but he managed to pull one up occasionally.

Randy did as he was told while Big Jim took a deep swallow of his. "You aren't going to go out to the damn highway and hitch," he grumbled, "Least not unless you insist on it. You're a grown man and I can't stop you from being an idiot if it's what you're set on." Randy had done as he was told and felt the beer settle in his stomach while the warm comfort of alcohol rose up into his trouble mind and Big Jim continued, "Here's what's going to happen, if you agree. We are going to walk up the hill and eat some dinner. You're going to tell me your story. I'm going to offer what help I can, and then you are going to sleep on it. In the morning we'll figure things out. Jimmy you take our guest up to the house and get dinner going while I close the register and lock the safe."

Randy was overcome by their hospitality. "Thank you, Sir. I can't say how much I appreciate this. You guys are too kind. I don't know what I'd..." Big Jim cut him off, "Jimmy calls me `Sir." You're company. You don't. I wouldn't leave a dog alone on the side of the road. I sure as heck wont leave human there. Now git!"

Jimmy slapped Randy gently between the shoulder blades, "Come on, lets go. I'm fucking starving!" Big Jim cuffed Jimmy up side the head, "Language, boy!" Jimmy replied "Yes, Sir," and acted sort of contrite, but not really. The two boys headed around the building and up the driveway. "If Dad says he'll work things out, then they'll get worked out. Don't worry about it. You eat burgers, don't you?"

Randy was increasingly feeling like there was something he hadn't quite got, yet. "Uhm, Jimmy, is Big Jim your father, I mean he doesn't look old enough..." Jimmy cut him off, "Randy... you know me and Big Jim are gay... don't you?" Randy said, "Well... I guess," and Jimmy continued, "Out here in the country, things are a little bit more live and let live than they seem. Country people need their cars. They need their trucks and tractors even more. Big Jim is the best mechanic in two or three counties. I wish I could say I'm second best but really I'm only third, or probably forth. Anyway, I call him `Dad' and he treats me like his son, and even though most everybody knows it's not true, they don't ask what is true because, really, they just want their cars towed and their trucks fixed, so he's Big Jim and I'm lil' Jim and everybody leaves it at that."

Randy accepted that at face value. It made a certain amount of sense. Knowing for sure that they were gay made Randy's cock twitch. If things were different... well, if things were different, he might wish that they could be very different but it had been a very long, very bad, day and, at that moment, he realized that he really wished he had eaten a snack cake. He smiled at Jimmy, "I hope there's enough hamburgers, I'm starving!"

Jimmy slapped him on the back, "I'm glad to hear it. Actually, we have two pounds of ground beef. I was planning on taking enough for some burgers and freezing the rest." The two young men climbed the porch steps and went in the house to fix dinner.

Later, between bites of burger, Big Jim said, "Ok, Randy. I need to know the truth. You can trust me. Whatever it is, I'm not going to be shocked, I'm not going to judge you, or lecture you. You came here as your are and that's your business but, if I'm going to help I need to know what the facts are."

Telling the truth was a million times easier knowing the two men were gay but somehow, things having gone off the rails as they had, Randy felt like his trip to San Francisco chasing stardom seemed embarrassing, at best, if not stupid. He probably should have known his old car wasn't up to the trip but he couldn't resist. The guys at the porn studio had warned him that having sex in front of a camera was hard work and mostly not all that sexy. But they had also told him about wild orgies when the cameras weren't rolling, going out to the bars where "Hey! Aren't you..." could get you into almost any bed you wanted, and if you did become a star, horny millionaires would fly into town ready to drop ten thousand on a fantasy weekend with their favorite stud. Forty eight hours of the best of absolutely everything and walking away with several thousand in your pocket. They said that really most of them weren't that bad looking, either, for older men, and Randy had never minded mature partners.

Randy took a deep breath. "Well, I'm from Tampa. My mom owns a souvenir stand that her parents started. My father has been AWOL since I was born. My life feels like it's at a dead end. I mean, I have some friends, but Tampa, Florida, is hardly a gay mecca. I hate it there. We all have dead end jobs. No plans. Hanging in a couple of pathetic bars. Going to a beach packed with tourists. My life was going nowhere. Then a friend dared me to send some pics to this porn studio in San Fransisco. Several of us were really drunk and we started watching PornHub and there was this guy that looked a lot like me. Well, they said he looked a lot like me. So... anyway... if I can get to SanFran, I can get into making movies. I mean, I've talked to a bunch of people and I think I know what I'm getting into and it's not like what you see on the screen but I think it would still be kind of cool and..."

Jimmy cut him off, "Dude it IS cool! Way fucking cool!" Big Jim reached out and cuffed the side of his head, "Language! I swear! Can't you even be decent for dinner with company?!" He was barely hiding a smile while he said it. Not waiting for Jimmy's apology, he turned to Randy, "Well, congratulations! That sounds like quite an adventure. I promised not to judge and, truth is, I don't know what to say anyway. I mean, I don't have any right to an opinion. It's good to have something in writing. Is it worth the pixels on your phone screen? Heck if I know. What I can do is give you three options. There is a Greyhound bus station 45 minutes away in Valdosta. I know you can get from there back to Tampa. Probably out to San Francisco, too, one way or another. I just can't in good conscience send you out there to California without a car. There are ten thousand homeless people in San Francisco and I'm sure way too many of them are young gay guys like you. I'll take you to the station and, if you buy a ticket that's on you. What I will do is loan you the money to get back to Tampa, if you need me to. I trust you'll pay me back when you can. It wont be great being in Tampa with no car but you'll have friends and family to help you out. The other option is that you hang out here. You seem like a nice kid. Jimmy likes you and he could use a friend. I'll teach you how to drive the wrecker..."

Jimmy cut Big Jim off, "It's easy! I can show you how to do it tomorrow!" The unexpected possibility of Randy sticking around had a hopeful puppy dog look on his face and a tingle in his shorts.

Big Jim continued, giving Jimmy a stern look, "Right! Jimmy will teach you how to drive the wrecker. You can help out around the house and the shop. Work the gas pumps and sell sodas. I'll put some money away for you every week and in six months, or so, you ought to have enough saved up that we can find you a descent ride and off you go. No need to answer now. In fact, just don't. I want you to think it over. Don't make a choice you'll regret later. Tell me tomorrow morning, or few days from now. And the bus station is always there. If you decide you've had too much country living next week, or next month, I'll pay you off and send you on your way."

Jimmy couldn't keep his excitement bottled up anymore, pumping his fist in the air, he chanted, "Stay! Stay! Stay!" until Big Jim cut him off, "I swear, Jimmy! Sometimes you act like a ten year old! Stop it! Randy will decide for himself. When he's ready."

Dinner finished, complete with apple pie courtesy of a very talented baker at the local grocery and, the kitchen cleaned up, Big Jim announced that it was bedtime. The bed in the guestroom was already made up but Jimmy found Randy a towel. They realized, too late, that all of Randy's stuff was still down the hill, until Big Jim proudly announced that he had checked the car and found the overnight bag that Randy had set aside for motels and brought it up.

Randy laid down on the bed and fell asleep so fast that he might have passed out. Sometime later, he woke up in the dark, momentarily disoriented by his surroundings, until reality crashed in on him. He got up, made his way to the bathroom and, coming back, realized that he had been woken up by the pounding bass of House music coming from somewhere. It wasn't loud, just surreal given his current location. He walked over to the window and saw lights shining under the door and through a few cracks in the walls of a barn about thirty or forty yards away.

Still half asleep and disoriented, he pulled a shirt on and with just that and his boxer shorts slipped out of the house and across the yard. He walked up to the barn carefully. Given the music, making noise wasn't an issue, but he was uncertain what he would find. Looking through a wide crack in the door, he saw that the front half of the barn had been fitted out as a sort of cowboy sex dungeon. A wrought iron chandelier hung from the rafters with matching wall sconces on the support posts, all of them with fake flame light bulbs that created a flickering electric candle light assisted by strategically placed recessed spotlights. One of those was over a large walnut sort of throne chair. The kind you see on the dais at church for the pastor and choir director to sit in. This one was raised up off the floor on a box. Big Jim was sitting in it wearing a harness, studded jock strap and perfectly polished knee high boots, one of which Jimmy, on his knees and completely nude except for a heavy chain and padlock around his neck, was eagerly licking.

Randy was stunned, and wide awake. The events of the afternoon were falling into place like puzzle pieces. Randy was a gay man with an internet connection. He knew what BDSM was. At the same time, Tampa did not have a leather bar. When the producers in San Francisco had asked how he felt about kink he had honestly said that he didn't know. Now he did. His cock was so hard that it hurt, not even in a good way. It was literally harder than it had ever been in his life, a stream of precum was quickly spreading a sticky stain across his boxer shorts, and it throbbed with a level of desire that he didn't even know he had.

He couldn't look away. Big Jim sat on the ornate chair like a Greek God in a temple, his chest puffed up, his jock straining to contain an obviously massive erection. His left hand gently toyed with his right nipple while he stroked Jimmy's back with a doubled up belt in his right hand. Randy was trapped like a moth by flame but uncertain what he should do. Not even entirely certain what he wanted to do. Certainly his hosts had not made much effort to keep their activities a secret. It almost seemed like the music was an invitation, calling out to him, but only if he was awake to hear it, only if he were interested enough to come looking for it. He reached down and squeezed his aching cock. Yes, he was interested but what would opening the door mean? What would he be getting himself into? Or was this meant to be private? Perhaps they counted on him to sleep soundly enough to not notice their nocturnal activities. He was merely a guest after all, an uninvited one, beholden to his hosts generosity.

He thought the wisest thing to do was return to the house and pretend that he hadn't noticed anything at all. Yes, that was the safest politest choice. But his feet seemed nailed to the ground. Big Jim moved his free boot to the back of Jimmy's head and pressed down hard. He twisted his nipple between his fingers, leaned his head back against the chair, and let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a moan, like a bull in heat or rutting elks, that was the most completely alpha male sound that Randy had ever heard. Randy raise his hand to the door still undecided.

In a single fluid motion, Big Jim unfurled the belt to it's full length and brought it down with a lightening crack along the length of Jimmy's back. His head still trapped between the two boots, Jimmy let out a howl of pain, but his body trembled and squirmed with what was unquestionable ecstasy. At the same time, Big Jim turned his head toward the door and said, "Get your ass in here Randy! If you were going to run, you would have done it five minutes ago."

Randy pushed the door open wide enough to slip through the gap and shuffled forward, almost in a trance. Big Jim looked him over not the least the fact that, unnoticed by Randy, a trail of precum was running down his leg. "This is how the game is played...boy. In this room, I am Sir. I am to be obeyed. I will not do anything to you that you do not want to have done but I may know more about what you want than you do and when I give it to you, you say, "Thank You, Sir!" If you say `please, no Sir,' the game ends immediately, with no discussion. Strip!... or leave." Randy's shirt and boxers fell to the floor.

"Good boy!" Big Jim purred. Testosterone and the raw scent of sex and power seemed to surround him like a cloud of cigar smoke. "I have two boots and now I have two boys," Big Jim said, "Come get yours, boy." Before he released Jimmy's head, he laid the strap down his back again, drawing out yet another anguished, yet orgasmic howl. The man played Randy like a fiddle. He was in too deep to turn back and yet kneeling in front the man, baring his back to the belt was terrifying. Exactly as it was meant to be. Big Jim would never hit a virgin boy full force with a leather belt but he wanted that submission. That fear that made his own cock ache almost as bad as Randy's did. And he got it.

Randy dropped to his knees and lowered his face to the man's boot tasting it with his tongue. "LICK! I want to feel your tongue through the leather!" Randy pressed his face to the boot and licked as hard as he could. Big Jim purred again, "Goood boooy!" as he said it, he flicked his belt out and let it's weight fall against Randy's back. While Randy merely moaned in fear, not wailed in pain, the reaction of his trembling body was only slightly less intense. Big Jim grinned to himself in satisfaction.

The man shifted his boots and Jimmy sat back on his knees, head down, Randy quickly followed suit. Big Jim reached down side of the chair to flip a lever that caused the center of the seat to drop out. Pointing at Jimmy he growled on your back and worship my hole." Jimmy quickly scooted under the chair where a pillow made it possible to service the man, who turned to Randy, pulling the studded cod piece off of his jock he said, "Tonight you get my cock!" Randy did not waste a second straddling his new friend and sucking the mans throbbing rod into the back of his throat.

When Big Jim had enjoyed as much service as he could without blowing his load down his new boy's throat he knew it was time for a new game, although not before grabbing Randy by the ears and pulling his head all the way to his crotch half a dozen times fully fucking the last inch of his seven inches into the choking boy's throat.

Next, Jimmy was stretched on a St. Andrew's cross face forward. Randy was set on his knees to service his friend while Big Jim tortured the bound boy's chest with a mini flogger of bootlaces. At random moments the man would reach down and flick the stinging leather threads across Randy's back. Not cutting his skin but marking his brain deeply with the delicious dread of, not if, but when, he would choose to give the boy a taste of it's full force.

He pulled Randy to his feet, bound the two boys to the cross face to face and ordered them to kiss while he began to train his new boy with a deer skin flogger. Even swung as hard as the man could swing it, deer skin would do little more than sting but Randy didn't know that. He kept Randy dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain, enjoying how easily that was accomplished with an inexperienced boy whose body and mind already vibrated with fear before he was even touched. A Master's gift is the alchemy of taking a boy's fear turning it into desire and turning them both back on the boy so that he's asking himself why it's impossible for him to say anything other than `Please, Sir, may I have another, Sir!"

Big Jim regretfully took note of Randy's failing energy. Before he took Randy down, though, he unclipped the bootlace flogger from his belt and gave his new boy one lash with it, full force, leaving a fan of red welts across his shoulders. Randy screamed as his entire body went stiff and then collapsed, hanging limp from his wrists. Big Jim carefully took him down and laid him out on a leather covered bench. With Jimmy on top of him, the man ordered the boys to 69 each other. He raised Randy's legs up and had Jimmy hold them back. Big Jim looked down at the ass he was about to plunder. He assumed, rightly, that it wasn't the first time this aspiring pornstar was going to be fucked, but it was the first time he was going to fuck his new boy and he wanted both of them to remember it.

Big Jim thoroughly greased up his fat cock but only used one finger to work some lube into his boy's hole before he placed his fat mushroom head against the tight opening and pushed. Randy moaned loudly around the cock in his mouth and struggled against the painful invasion. Jimmy knowing what was expected laid his weight on the boy beneath him watching his Sir's cock slowly force it's way into the resisting sheath. "Open up boy!" Big Jim ordered, "Give me my hole!" Half way in he grabbed Randy tight around the hips and drove his cock in to the root. Randy thrashed and howled. Jimmy raised up and opened his mouth wide to show Jim Randy's cum coating his tongue.

The next morning, light was barely coming in the window when Randy felt his mattress shift as Jimmy sat on the edge of his bed. "Dude!"Jimmy said quietly, "Dude! You ok?" Randy yawned and stretched. The night before unfolding in his mind like a dream. His sore ass and the real or imagined tingling sensation of a flogger on his shoulders assured him that it was no dream. "Uhm I think so." he muttered, trying to wake up. "Don't think so! Know so!" Jimmy chirped with his usual excess enthusiasm, "That was fucking hot! Better than hot! I don't remember the last time Dad was that riled up. He really likes you, Dude!" Then more hesitantly, "I do, too." Randy still half asleep, feeling his existential dread creeping back again, wanted nothing other than a hot shower and coffee, but he sat up, gave his new brother a one armed hug and said, "Yeah, me, too." After he was awake and clean, looking at himself in a foggy mirror he knew what he had decided. He would stay. And he would go out to the barn again. Whatever that might mean.

The three men settled into a comfortable rhythm. Randy, not knowing enough to be a big help in the shop took over the housework and much of the cooking, in addition to learning to drive the wrecker. He was slowly but surely learning his way around the shop, as well, although his heart wasn't really in it. He would never be a star mechanic but he could do some basic stuff, kind of like the surgical nurse who puts in the sutures after the doctor is done. He found that, once a month or so, Big Jim hosted a weekend play party. Ten or twelve men would come out to the farm, sometimes driving several hours to spend the weekend sleeping in bunk beds up in the hayloft and beating and fucking each other silly. Randy became a popular toy although Big Jim never let anyone forget who he belonged to.

The months flew by and the boys hardly noticed the time passing until one morning at breakfast Big Jim said, "Boys, there is something we have to discuss. Randy, when you decided to stay I told you that I would set aside some money for you every week and I have. Yesterday Jack Roberts called me up. His son graduated college last month and is headed to Atlanta for some big time job. Jack has a Nissan Versa that he bought new five years ago for his son to take to college and he wants to sell it. It's a good car, Randy, and you can afford it. Eight months ago, I was telling you that you didn't have to stay if you didn't want to. Now I'm telling you that you don't have to go, but it's up to you. You've put your time in and been a big help. I don't know what we'll do without you, but you have your own life to live."

Randy just sat there with his mind spinning. He looked at Big Jim whose expression was strong and manly but whose eyes sparkled with a suspicious hint of tears and a tic at the corner of his mouth that that throbbed in time to his heartbeat. Jimmy was just wide eyed and frozen like he had just run up on a rattle snake in the woods. Both men waited, breathless, to see what Randy would say. Randy had only occasionally thought about San Francisco after his first few weeks at the shop. After that he was just too busy. It was still intoxicating to think about that kind of fame, but daunting, too. Once that was out there on the Net there would be no taking it back, and having everyone want to fuck you because you're a pornstar means most of them only want to fuck you because you're a pornstar. He left Tampa and set out for San Francisco because he didn't have life and hoped he would find one. His own eyes began to well up when he realized that was exactly what he had done.

"Dad," Randy said, his voice cracking, "I don't think I really need car now. I think I'm doing just fine without one." Jimmy leapt up so fast that his chair fell over behind him, "Hell to the fucking no you don't need a fucking car, Bro! You got something better now! You got a fucking family!" Big Jim didn't even bother cuffing him up side the head for his bad language and Jimmy was around to the other side of the table too fast anyway. The boys were wrapped in each other's arms too tight to breath. Big Jim walked over and, before he put his arms around both his boys he quickly wiped a single tear off of his cheek.

Everybody settled down, finished breakfast, and headed off to work. About an hour later, after getting the kitchen clean and the bathroom tile sparkling, Randy took off his apron, pulled on his overalls, and headed down to the shop. As he rounded a curve in the driveway the cinder-block building came into view. Jimmy was up on a ladder with a bucket of paint in one hand and a brush in the other adding an "s" to the end of "James Crouse & Son, Towing and Repair."