u/Defiant_Dealer8205

ALL PARTICIPANTS ARE 21+

I knew I had time.

That was the whole point of leaving early—my shift didn’t start until 5:00, and it was just about 2:00 when I got to the bus stop. Plenty of time to get into town, swing by the Game Gallery, and lose a few quarters to Defender before heading in.

That was the plan.

The bus had other ideas.

It pulled away just as I turned the corner, sun blazing overhead like it had something personal against me. I stopped, squinted after it, and let out a sigh that disappeared instantly into the heat. Midwestern summer, the kind that sits on your shoulders and presses down. Not a breeze, not a cloud, just that shimmering, relentless afternoon.

Three miles to town. Maybe fifty minutes on foot.

I started walking.

Five minutes in, I could already feel it—the heat rising off the pavement, the slow drag of it, like the air itself had weight. I was just settling into the rhythm of well, guess this is happening when I heard a truck ease up behind me.

White. Clean. The red logo on the side snapped into focus as it rolled past—Orkin. It slowed, then stopped a little ahead of me.

I paused.

The passenger window slid down.

“You miss it?” he asked, nodding back toward where the bus had vanished.

“Yeah,” I said, pushing a strand of hair off my forehead. “By about ten seconds.”

He smiled—easy, unforced. “Hop in. I can get you into town.”

I had a flicker of hesitation, quick but real, then decided that the Orkin man was a safe ride.

“Okay,” I said.

The inside of the truck was blissfully cooler. Not cold, but enough to feel like a different world.

“Don,” he said, glancing over as we pulled back onto the road.

I told him my name, buckled in, and just like that, I wasn’t walking anymore.

Up close, I noticed him properly—dark hair, a little unruly, that effortless 5 o’clock shadow. And his eyes. Bright blue in a way that almost didn’t seem real, so beautifully blue—clear, steady, like he was always really looking at what was in front of him.  He was in the standard Orkin uniform consisting of either khaki or trousers and the standard, logoed white polyester-cotton shirt with the red epaulets, which was a bit dirty from working in the heat.  He had a few buttons undone showing his white t-shirt underneath.

We started with the usual—where I was headed, what was my job, what time did I start work—but it didn’t stay there.

“You’ve got a really unique look,” he said after a minute—not in a way that felt intrusive, just… observant.

I smiled. “Japanese, German, Irish,” I said. “It’s a mix.”

He nodded, like he understood something beyond the words. “My son’s almost a year old,” he said. “Not sure what he’s going to look like yet, but he’s got my eyes.” He glanced at me again, a faint smile forming. “You look great. I bet you’ve got a lot of girlfriends.”

I shook my head, smiling a little. “Nah, not really. I’ve got a couple of best friends—we hang out—but between school and work, I don’t really have time for anything else.” I shrugged. “And honestly, I don’t really want that right now.”

“Really?” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. Then he smirked, his eyes catching the light. “At your age, I figured you’d be girl-crazy.”

There was something thoughtful in the way he said it—not judgmental, just curious. His blue eyes lingered a moment, like he was trying to understand me, not just what I’d said but what I meant.

We talked about being young, about being mixed race—identity, assumptions, the way people try to fit you into something simple when you’re anything but. He listened in a way that made it easy to keep going, like he wasn’t waiting for his turn to speak—just taking it all in.

At one point, he let out a quiet breath and said, almost to himself, “I needed a good conversation today.”

I glanced over at him. “And you picked me up off the side of the road?”

He smiled. “Looks like it worked out.”

A little while later, he slowed the truck again.

“Hang on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

We pulled over near a bridge. The moment I stepped out, the air shifted—still hot, but different. Beneath the bridge, it was cooler, shadowed, the kind of relief you don’t realize you need until you feel it. The ground was dry, dusty, the earth cracked and tired from the heat—except down near the waterline.

“Come here,” he said.

I followed him down the slight bank, careful at first, then less so as I focused on where he was heading.

“So why no interest in girls?” he asked as we picked our way down the steep slope toward the water.

I shrugged, watching my footing. “I guess… other things are just more interesting to me right now.”

“Like what?” he asked.

I glanced back at him with a small smile. “Arcade games, for one, I really like them—especially Defender.”

He nodded, chuckling softly, reaching out to steady me as my foot slipped a little on the loose dirt. “That’s a new one,” he said, amused.

At the bottom, the air changed.

The heat didn’t disappear, but it softened—cut by a faint, steady breeze coming off the river. Under the bridge, it was shaded, cooler, the kind of relief you didn’t realize you needed until you felt it. The dust gave way to packed earth, and the water moved slow and steady, slipping quietly past.

“This,” Don said, stepping up to the edge and resting his hands on his hips, “is why I stop here sometimes.”

I moved beside him, looking out at the water.

“Long day, too much heat, too much… everything,” he went on. “I could head to a beer joint, sit in some smoke, and waste money on beer I shouldn’t.” He shook his head lightly. “Never actually makes anything better.”

The river kept moving, unbothered.

“What would make it better?” I asked, standing beside him on the bank.

He turned to me, a genuine, warm smile spreading across his face—one that reached all the way into those blue eyes. “Here,” he said softly, “let me show you.”

He leaned backward slightly, then unzipped his trousers and flipped his cock out of the fly, letting it hang there, thickening.

“This,” he said, nodding down toward his cock. “Five minutes here—with you… just feeling good...” He exhaled, like he was letting the day go right there. “I could really use that.”

I turned facing him, looking up at him, feeling the breeze, letting it cool the heat that had been sitting on me since I started walking.

He glanced over at me, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Honestly,” he said, “this—today—this is better than it usually is…”

I looked at him. “Better?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. Way better than the beer joint, too.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I was probably headed there after my route. Would’ve wasted money, sat around, gone home feeling the same.”

He looked back out at the water for a second, then added, quieter, “This? This will be more fun.”

There was something real in the way he said it—like he meant it more than he expected to.

“Meeting you,” he said, almost like an afterthought, “kind of saved me from all that.”

I didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so I just smiled, leaning there beside him, the river moving slow below us, the breeze cutting through the heat.

I looked down at his now hard cock jutting out of his fly and got down on my knees gently pulling his cock and balls out so they were outside his fly opening.

His cock was beautiful, cut with a nicely defined mushroom head that was reddish and swollen so hard it had what looked like tiny little goosebump all over it.

He looked down at me smiling as I kept my eyes on his and took his cock into my mouth.  His cock was girthy but not unmanageable and with his 6-7 inch length, I was able to deepthroat it and I even licked his balls with his cock in my mouth up to the base.

I breathed in deeply, intoxicated by his working man’s scent, musk and sweat, slight grease and oil and piss all mingled together into an amazing olfactory aphrodisiac that made me swoon.

“Jesus…”, he breathed “…that’s fuckin’ awesome…”, he moaned slightly, eyes narrowed in pleasure but still locked onto my face and mouth.

For a few minutes, nothing else really mattered as I continued to lick and suck and worship his cock.

Suddenly, his eyes widened and he took his hands and pulled my face off of his cock.

“Here, turn around…” he aggressively flipped me around and somehow pulled my jeans and underwear down simultaneously.

While I had been fucked before and liked it, I suddenly was a bit nervous at his roughness.

“I…I, don’t know…”, I started to lightly protest but he pushed me down into the dirt of the bank and I felt his weight press on me as I also felt his thick fingers rub a gob of spit onto and into my asshole.

In the blink of an eye I went down—hard, hands first, then face, a puff of dust and heat and the sharp sting of his finger roughly pushing into me before it was followed by the feel of his hard cock filling me up in one thrust.

I felt his whole body on me, his face next to mine, turned sideways in the dirt – with his greater size and reach, he rubbed his face on mine; his lips and tongue finding mine and kissing me – his tongue fucking my mouth as he thrust into my ass in deep, hard and fast strokes.

“Uh…uh…uh…his mouth released mine but stayed next to my lips and he grunted and muttered dirty words into my face.  “Fuck…tight…ass…fuck…jeez…ahhh..shit…you’re gonna make me cum..make me cum…oh Jesus, make me cum..I’m cumminnnn..ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” Don shuddered violently, muttering and gurgling as he convulsed with orgasm – his cock thrust deep in me, his body and legs taut as he emptied his load into me.  He slowly relaxed, coming down from his body-shaking orgasm.

We stayed there like that for a few minutes, the river moving slow and steady, the shade wrapping around us, the world above the bridge feeling far away.

He pulled out and as he put his cock back in and zipped up, I stood and pulled my jeans up, still on my knees.

Then we headed back up not saying anything.

I should’ve been more careful.

My foot slipped in the loose dirt halfway up the bank, and before I could catch myself, Don was there instantly, hand out, steady.

“You okay?” he asked, a grin just barely breaking through the concern.

“Yeah,” I said, taking his hand and letting him pull me up. “Just… graceful as ever.”

There was dust on my hands, my clothes, probably my face. I brushed at it, laughing, and he shook his head a little, still smiling.

“You’re fuckin’ awesome,” he said.

We made it back to the truck, and the rest of the drive felt different somehow—not heavier, just… fuller. Like something had shifted.

When we pulled up to my job, the clock snapped back into focus.

Still early.

I turned to him, still a little flushed, my face feeling like it had been sanded by his rough five o’clock shadow – a ridiculous smile on my face. “Thank you,” I said. “For the ride. And… the detour.”

He nodded, “Hey, you saved me twenty bucks and hours at the bar”, he smiled, eyes twinkling like it had meant something to him too. “Take care,” he said.

I stepped out, closed the door, and then I was moving—quick, light, almost running.

I caught my reflection in the glass as I went in—dust-smudged, a little disheveled, cheeks flushed, but absolutely beaming.

I walked through the door, right on time, already spotting my best friend across the room.

And all I could think was—

I missed my bus.

And somehow, on the hottest, most ordinary afternoon, that turned into something I wouldn’t have traded for anything.

I did run into Don a few more times over the years – never planned, always hot – and even now decades later; I smile when I think of him and I wonder where life took him.

I knew I had time.

That was the whole point of leaving early—my shift didn’t start until 5:00, and it was just about 2:00 when I got to the bus stop. Plenty of time to get into town, swing by the Game Gallery, and lose a few quarters to Defender before heading in.

That was the plan.

The bus had other ideas.

It pulled away just as I turned the corner, sun blazing overhead like it had something personal against me. I stopped, squinted after it, and let out a sigh that disappeared instantly into the heat. Midwestern summer, the kind that sits on your shoulders and presses down. Not a breeze, not a cloud, just that shimmering, relentless afternoon.

Three miles to town. Maybe fifty minutes on foot.

I started walking.

Five minutes in, I could already feel it—the heat rising off the pavement, the slow drag of it, like the air itself had weight. I was just settling into the rhythm of well, guess this is happening when I heard a truck ease up behind me.

White. Clean. The red logo on the side snapped into focus as it rolled past—Orkin. It slowed, then stopped a little ahead of me.

I paused.

The passenger window slid down.

“You miss it?” he asked, nodding back toward where the bus had vanished.

“Yeah,” I said, pushing a strand of hair off my forehead. “By about ten seconds.”

He smiled—easy, unforced. “Hop in. I can get you into town.”

I had a flicker of hesitation, quick but real, then decided that the Orkin man was a safe ride.

“Okay,” I said.

The inside of the truck was blissfully cooler. Not cold, but enough to feel like a different world.

“Don,” he said, glancing over as we pulled back onto the road.

I told him my name, buckled in, and just like that, I wasn’t walking anymore.

Up close, I noticed him properly—dark hair, a little unruly, that effortless 5 o’clock shadow. And his eyes. Bright blue in a way that almost didn’t seem real, so beautifully blue—clear, steady, like he was always really looking at what was in front of him.  He was in the standard Orkin uniform consisting of either khaki or trousers and the standard, logoed white polyester-cotton shirt with the red epaulets, which was a bit dirty from working in the heat.  He had a few buttons undone showing his white t-shirt underneath.

We started with the usual—where I was headed, what was my job, what time did I start work—but it didn’t stay there.

“You’ve got a really unique look,” he said after a minute—not in a way that felt intrusive, just… observant.

I smiled. “Japanese, German, Irish,” I said. “It’s a mix.”

He nodded, like he understood something beyond the words. “My son’s almost a year old,” he said. “Not sure what he’s going to look like yet, but he’s got my eyes.” He glanced at me again, a faint smile forming. “You look great. I bet you’ve got a lot of girlfriends.”

I shook my head, smiling a little. “Nah, not really. I’ve got a couple of best friends—we hang out—but between school and work, I don’t really have time for anything else.” I shrugged. “And honestly, I don’t really want that right now.”

“Really?” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. Then he smirked, his eyes catching the light. “At your age, I figured you’d be girl-crazy.”

There was something thoughtful in the way he said it—not judgmental, just curious. His blue eyes lingered a moment, like he was trying to understand me, not just what I’d said but what I meant.

We talked about being young, about being mixed race—identity, assumptions, the way people try to fit you into something simple when you’re anything but. He listened in a way that made it easy to keep going, like he wasn’t waiting for his turn to speak—just taking it all in.

At one point, he let out a quiet breath and said, almost to himself, “I needed a good conversation today.”

I glanced over at him. “And you picked me up off the side of the road?”

He smiled. “Looks like it worked out.”

A little while later, he slowed the truck again.

“Hang on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

We pulled over near a bridge. The moment I stepped out, the air shifted—still hot, but different. Beneath the bridge, it was cooler, shadowed, the kind of relief you don’t realize you need until you feel it. The ground was dry, dusty, the earth cracked and tired from the heat—except down near the waterline.

“Come here,” he said.

I followed him down the slight bank, careful at first, then less so as I focused on where he was heading.

“So why no interest in girls?” he asked as we picked our way down the steep slope toward the water.

I shrugged, watching my footing. “I guess… other things are just more interesting to me right now.”

“Like what?” he asked.

I glanced back at him with a small smile. “Arcade games, for one, I really like them—especially Defender.”

He nodded, chuckling softly, reaching out to steady me as my foot slipped a little on the loose dirt. “That’s a new one,” he said, amused.

At the bottom, the air changed.

The heat didn’t disappear, but it softened—cut by a faint, steady breeze coming off the river. Under the bridge, it was shaded, cooler, the kind of relief you didn’t realize you needed until you felt it. The dust gave way to packed earth, and the water moved slow and steady, slipping quietly past.

“This,” Don said, stepping up to the edge and resting his hands on his hips, “is why I stop here sometimes.”

I moved beside him, looking out at the water.

“Long day, too much heat, too much… everything,” he went on. “I could head to a beer joint, sit in some smoke, and waste money on beer I shouldn’t.” He shook his head lightly. “Never actually makes anything better.”

The river kept moving, unbothered.

“What would make it better?” I asked, standing beside him on the bank.

He turned to me, a genuine, warm smile spreading across his face—one that reached all the way into those blue eyes. “Here,” he said softly, “let me show you.”

He leaned backward slightly, then unzipped his trousers and flipped his cock out of the fly, letting it hang there, thickening.

“This,” he said, nodding down toward his cock. “Five minutes here—with you… just feeling good...” He exhaled, like he was letting the day go right there. “I could really use that.”

I turned facing him, looking up at him, feeling the breeze, letting it cool the heat that had been sitting on me since I started walking.

He glanced over at me, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Honestly,” he said, “this—today—this is better than it usually is…”

I looked at him. “Better?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. Way better than the beer joint, too.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I was probably headed there after my route. Would’ve wasted money, sat around, gone home feeling the same.”

He looked back out at the water for a second, then added, quieter, “This? This will be more fun.”

There was something real in the way he said it—like he meant it more than he expected to.

“Meeting you,” he said, almost like an afterthought, “kind of saved me from all that.”

I didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so I just smiled, leaning there beside him, the river moving slow below us, the breeze cutting through the heat.

I looked down at his now hard cock jutting out of his fly and got down on my knees gently pulling his cock and balls out so they were outside his fly opening.

His cock was beautiful, cut with a nicely defined mushroom head that was reddish and swollen so hard it had what looked like tiny little goosebump all over it.

He looked down at me smiling as I kept my eyes on his and took his cock into my mouth.  His cock was girthy but not unmanageable and with his 6-7 inch length, I was able to deepthroat it and I even licked his balls with his cock in my mouth up to the base.

I breathed in deeply, intoxicated by his working man’s scent, musk and sweat, slight grease and oil and piss all mingled together into an amazing olfactory aphrodisiac that made me swoon.

“Jesus…”, he breathed “…that’s fuckin’ awesome…”, he moaned slightly, eyes narrowed in pleasure but still locked onto my face and mouth.

For a few minutes, nothing else really mattered as I continued to lick and suck and worship his cock.

Suddenly, his eyes widened and he took his hands and pulled my face off of his cock.

“Here, turn around…” he aggressively flipped me around and somehow pulled my jeans and underwear down simultaneously.

While I had been fucked before and liked it, I suddenly was a bit nervous at his roughness.

“I…I, don’t know…”, I started to lightly protest but he pushed me down into the dirt of the bank and I felt his weight press on me as I also felt his thick fingers rub a gob of spit onto and into my asshole.

In the blink of an eye I went down—hard, hands first, then face, a puff of dust and heat and the sharp sting of his finger roughly pushing into me before it was followed by the feel of his hard cock filling me up in one thrust.

I felt his whole body on me, his face next to mine, turned sideways in the dirt – with his greater size and reach, he rubbed his face on mine; his lips and tongue finding mine and kissing me – his tongue fucking my mouth as he thrust into my ass in deep, hard and fast strokes.

“Uh…uh…uh…his mouth released mine but stayed next to my lips and he grunted and muttered dirty words into my face.  “Fuck…tight…ass…fuck…jeez…ahhh..shit…you’re gonna make me cum..make me cum…oh Jesus, make me cum..I’m cumminnnn..ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” Don shuddered violently, muttering and gurgling as he convulsed with orgasm – his cock thrust deep in me, his body and legs taut as he emptied his load into me.  He slowly relaxed, coming down from his body-shaking orgasm.

We stayed there like that for a few minutes, the river moving slow and steady, the shade wrapping around us, the world above the bridge feeling far away.

He pulled out and as he put his cock back in and zipped up, I stood and pulled my jeans up, still on my knees.

Then we headed back up not saying anything.

I should’ve been more careful.

My foot slipped in the loose dirt halfway up the bank, and before I could catch myself, Don was there instantly, hand out, steady.

“You okay?” he asked, a grin just barely breaking through the concern.

“Yeah,” I said, taking his hand and letting him pull me up. “Just… graceful as ever.”

There was dust on my hands, my clothes, probably my face. I brushed at it, laughing, and he shook his head a little, still smiling.

“You’re fuckin’ awesome,” he said.

We made it back to the truck, and the rest of the drive felt different somehow—not heavier, just… fuller. Like something had shifted.

When we pulled up to my job, the clock snapped back into focus.

Still early.

I turned to him, still a little flushed, my face feeling like it had been sanded by his rough five o’clock shadow – a ridiculous smile on my face. “Thank you,” I said. “For the ride. And… the detour.”

He nodded, “Hey, you saved me twenty bucks and hours at the bar”, he smiled, eyes twinkling like it had meant something to him too. “Take care,” he said.

I stepped out, closed the door, and then I was moving—quick, light, almost running.

I caught my reflection in the glass as I went in—dust-smudged, a little disheveled, cheeks flushed, but absolutely beaming.

I walked through the door, right on time, already spotting my best friend across the room.

And all I could think was—

I missed my bus.

And somehow, on the hottest, most ordinary afternoon, that turned into something I wouldn’t have traded for anything.

I did run into Don a few more times over the years – never planned, always hot – and even now decades later; I smile when I think of him and I wonder where life took him.

I knew I had time.

That was the whole point of leaving early—my shift didn’t start until 5:00, and it was just about 2:00 when I got to the bus stop. Plenty of time to get into town, swing by the Game Gallery, and lose a few quarters to Defender before heading in.

That was the plan.

The bus had other ideas.

It pulled away just as I turned the corner, sun blazing overhead like it had something personal against me. I stopped, squinted after it, and let out a sigh that disappeared instantly into the heat. Midwestern summer, the kind that sits on your shoulders and presses down. Not a breeze, not a cloud, just that shimmering, relentless afternoon.

Three miles to town. Maybe fifty minutes on foot.

I started walking.

Five minutes in, I could already feel it—the heat rising off the pavement, the slow drag of it, like the air itself had weight. I was just settling into the rhythm of well, guess this is happening when I heard a truck ease up behind me.

White. Clean. The red logo on the side snapped into focus as it rolled past—Orkin. It slowed, then stopped a little ahead of me.

I paused.

The passenger window slid down.

“You miss it?” he asked, nodding back toward where the bus had vanished.

“Yeah,” I said, pushing a strand of hair off my forehead. “By about ten seconds.”

He smiled—easy, unforced. “Hop in. I can get you into town.”

I had a flicker of hesitation, quick but real, then decided that the Orkin man was a safe ride.

“Okay,” I said.

The inside of the truck was blissfully cooler. Not cold, but enough to feel like a different world.

“Don,” he said, glancing over as we pulled back onto the road.

I told him my name, buckled in, and just like that, I wasn’t walking anymore.

Up close, I noticed him properly—dark hair, a little unruly, that effortless 5 o’clock shadow. And his eyes. Bright blue in a way that almost didn’t seem real, so beautifully blue—clear, steady, like he was always really looking at what was in front of him.  He was in the standard Orkin uniform consisting of either khaki or trousers and the standard, logoed white polyester-cotton shirt with the red epaulets, which was a bit dirty from working in the heat.  He had a few buttons undone showing his white t-shirt underneath.

We started with the usual—where I was headed, what was my job, what time did I start work—but it didn’t stay there.

“You’ve got a really unique look,” he said after a minute—not in a way that felt intrusive, just… observant.

I smiled. “Japanese, German, Irish,” I said. “It’s a mix.”

He nodded, like he understood something beyond the words. “My son’s almost a year old,” he said. “Not sure what he’s going to look like yet, but he’s got my eyes.” He glanced at me again, a faint smile forming. “You look great. I bet you’ve got a lot of girlfriends.”

I shook my head, smiling a little. “Nah, not really. I’ve got a couple of best friends—we hang out—but between school and work, I don’t really have time for anything else.” I shrugged. “And honestly, I don’t really want that right now.”

“Really?” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. Then he smirked, his eyes catching the light. “At your age, I figured you’d be girl-crazy.”

There was something thoughtful in the way he said it—not judgmental, just curious. His blue eyes lingered a moment, like he was trying to understand me, not just what I’d said but what I meant.

We talked about being young, about being mixed race—identity, assumptions, the way people try to fit you into something simple when you’re anything but. He listened in a way that made it easy to keep going, like he wasn’t waiting for his turn to speak—just taking it all in.

At one point, he let out a quiet breath and said, almost to himself, “I needed a good conversation today.”

I glanced over at him. “And you picked me up off the side of the road?”

He smiled. “Looks like it worked out.”

A little while later, he slowed the truck again.

“Hang on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

We pulled over near a bridge. The moment I stepped out, the air shifted—still hot, but different. Beneath the bridge, it was cooler, shadowed, the kind of relief you don’t realize you need until you feel it. The ground was dry, dusty, the earth cracked and tired from the heat—except down near the waterline.

“Come here,” he said.

I followed him down the slight bank, careful at first, then less so as I focused on where he was heading.

“So why no interest in girls?” he asked as we picked our way down the steep slope toward the water.

I shrugged, watching my footing. “I guess… other things are just more interesting to me right now.”

“Like what?” he asked.

I glanced back at him with a small smile. “Arcade games, for one, I really like them—especially Defender.”

He nodded, chuckling softly, reaching out to steady me as my foot slipped a little on the loose dirt. “That’s a new one,” he said, amused.

At the bottom, the air changed.

The heat didn’t disappear, but it softened—cut by a faint, steady breeze coming off the river. Under the bridge, it was shaded, cooler, the kind of relief you didn’t realize you needed until you felt it. The dust gave way to packed earth, and the water moved slow and steady, slipping quietly past.

“This,” Don said, stepping up to the edge and resting his hands on his hips, “is why I stop here sometimes.”

I moved beside him, looking out at the water.

“Long day, too much heat, too much… everything,” he went on. “I could head to a beer joint, sit in some smoke, and waste money on beer I shouldn’t.” He shook his head lightly. “Never actually makes anything better.”

The river kept moving, unbothered.

“What would make it better?” I asked, standing beside him on the bank.

He turned to me, a genuine, warm smile spreading across his face—one that reached all the way into those blue eyes. “Here,” he said softly, “let me show you.”

He leaned backward slightly, then unzipped his trousers and flipped his cock out of the fly, letting it hang there, thickening.

“This,” he said, nodding down toward his cock. “Five minutes here—with you… just feeling good...” He exhaled, like he was letting the day go right there. “I could really use that.”

I turned facing him, looking up at him, feeling the breeze, letting it cool the heat that had been sitting on me since I started walking.

He glanced over at me, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Honestly,” he said, “this—today—this is better than it usually is…”

I looked at him. “Better?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. Way better than the beer joint, too.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I was probably headed there after my route. Would’ve wasted money, sat around, gone home feeling the same.”

He looked back out at the water for a second, then added, quieter, “This? This will be more fun.”

There was something real in the way he said it—like he meant it more than he expected to.

“Meeting you,” he said, almost like an afterthought, “kind of saved me from all that.”

I didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so I just smiled, leaning there beside him, the river moving slow below us, the breeze cutting through the heat.

I looked down at his now hard cock jutting out of his fly and got down on my knees gently pulling his cock and balls out so they were outside his fly opening.

His cock was beautiful, cut with a nicely defined mushroom head that was reddish and swollen so hard it had what looked like tiny little goosebump all over it.

He looked down at me smiling as I kept my eyes on his and took his cock into my mouth.  His cock was girthy but not unmanageable and with his 6-7 inch length, I was able to deepthroat it and I even licked his balls with his cock in my mouth up to the base.

I breathed in deeply, intoxicated by his working man’s scent, musk and sweat, slight grease and oil and piss all mingled together into an amazing olfactory aphrodisiac that made me swoon.

“Jesus…”, he breathed “…that’s fuckin’ awesome…”, he moaned slightly, eyes narrowed in pleasure but still locked onto my face and mouth.

For a few minutes, nothing else really mattered as I continued to lick and suck and worship his cock.

Suddenly, his eyes widened and he took his hands and pulled my face off of his cock.

“Here, turn around…” he aggressively flipped me around and somehow pulled my jeans and underwear down simultaneously.

While I had been fucked before and liked it, I suddenly was a bit nervous at his roughness.

“I…I, don’t know…”, I started to lightly protest but he pushed me down into the dirt of the bank and I felt his weight press on me as I also felt his thick fingers rub a gob of spit onto and into my asshole.

In the blink of an eye I went down—hard, hands first, then face, a puff of dust and heat and the sharp sting of his finger roughly pushing into me before it was followed by the feel of his hard cock filling me up in one thrust. It was Heaven.

I felt his whole body on me, his face next to mine, turned sideways in the dirt – with his greater size and reach, he rubbed his face on mine; his lips and tongue finding mine and kissing me – his tongue fucking my mouth as he thrust into my ass in deep, hard and fast strokes.

“Uh…uh…uh…his mouth released mine but stayed next to my lips and he grunted and muttered dirty words into my face.  “Fuck…tight…ass…fuck…jeez…ahhh..shit…you’re gonna make me cum..make me cum…oh Jesus, make me cum..I’m cumminnnn..ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Don shuddered violently, muttering and gurgling as he convulsed with orgasm – his cock thrust deep in me, his body and legs taut as he emptied his load into me.  He slowly relaxed, coming down from his body-shaking orgasm.

We stayed there like that for a few minutes, the river moving slow and steady, the shade wrapping around us, the world above the bridge feeling far away.

He pulled out and as he put his cock back in and zipped up, I stood and pulled my jeans up, still on my knees.

Then we headed back up not saying anything.

I should’ve been more careful.

My foot slipped in the loose dirt halfway up the bank, and before I could catch myself, Don was there instantly, hand out, steady.

“You okay?” he asked, a grin just barely breaking through the concern.

“Yeah,” I said, taking his hand and letting him pull me up. “Just… graceful as ever.”

There was dust on my hands, my clothes, probably my face. I brushed at it, laughing, and he shook his head a little, still smiling.

“You’re fuckin’ awesome,” he said.

We made it back to the truck, and the rest of the drive felt different somehow—not heavier, just… fuller. Like something had shifted.

When we pulled up to my job, the clock snapped back into focus.

Still early.

I turned to him, still a little flushed, my face feeling like it had been sanded by his rough five o’clock shadow – a ridiculous smile on my face. “Thank you,” I said. “For the ride. And… the detour.”

He nodded, “Hey, you saved me twenty bucks and hours at the bar”, he smiled, eyes twinkling like it had meant something to him too. “Take care,” he said.

I stepped out, closed the door, and then I was moving—quick, light, almost running.

I caught my reflection in the glass as I went in—dust-smudged, a little disheveled, cheeks flushed, but absolutely beaming.

I walked through the door, right on time, already spotting my best friend across the room.

And all I could think was—

I missed my bus.

And somehow, on the hottest, most ordinary afternoon, that turned into something I wouldn’t have traded for anything.

I did run into Don a few more times over the years – never planned, always hot – and even now decades later; I smile when I think of him and I wonder where life took him.