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Back in the day …
When Tommy Price's parents finally had the means, they decided to move the family away from the immoral and foul influences of inner city urban life to the righteous and pure environment of a new rural life. Tommy was livid about the decision. He had grown up with and loved the city-style excitement of the cement jungle.
Tommy had just turned fifteen and was only now beginning to wake up to the fact that his sexual fantasies included kinks that would need more than just immature colorless dalliances with his peer group. His fantasies now included darkened inner city places with their rough and mature characters. Tommy was in fact hell bent to turn fantasy to reality and get his kinks satisfied with the men that frequented those many less than nice darkened corners around his city home when he was moved away from the opportunity.
Tommy's Dad, Merle Price, had done his best with Tommy in the city, but Merle's past was itself a bit on the sordid side, including his own kink-twinged adolescence. As they say, the apple never does fall far from the tree and Merle knew that Tommy was starting to display the same sneaky self-serving behaviors that he had dabbled with in his own youth. That was not a good sign.
So they ended up in a small town far, far away and started a new life on a very small farm. Merle figured to keep Tommy's mind and restive hands occupied with helping the new place to function and run. Goodness knows there was enough new work to do, but Tommy was about as unhappy as a boy could be. Where was the excitement? Where were the dark places? Where were the men who could finally dominate him and demand of him to satisfy their unending prurient urges?
Tommy felt like he had been moved from heaven to hell until he noticed that his new home was within walking distance of a rural interstate highway truck stop. Tommy had never seen one yet, but had heard that truckers were hearty and rough men who drove their big rigs from truck stop to truck stop, sometimes in pairs, but most often alone.
So one evening after his Dad and Mom had left the home to visit a new fellow farming neighbor, Tommy went out alone on foot to the truck stop. It was a magnificent new environment, a giant parking lot full of giant truck machines hitched to long trailers with huge tires and the smells of diesel truck fuel all around.
Tommy walked into the truck stop's café and gazed at the smiling men sitting up at the long curved counter, cigarettes or cigars at the corners of their mouths or laying in the grooves of small round glass ashtrays as they ate their thick and delicious truck stop T-Bone steaks and thick cut French fries.
Big cups of steaming black coffee or tall glasses of lemon tinged ice teas stood ready to slake their thirsts. They were dressed in old blue jeans, the loops filled up with big thick brown or black belts with large silver or brass buckles and wore various kinds of working boots, some of them cowboy boots, a few snake skin boots as well.
Tommy then wandered the truck stop's insides and discovered the men's room, a place that had urinals and toilets on one side and a locker room style shower for men to wash their naked bodies on the other, but after that, he went back outside into the blackness of the night or what there was of it on account that the truck stop was lit up like a carnival with tall towers of glaring halogen lights bearing down on the black pavement practically turning night into day.
Tommy then walked down the long lines of parked big-rigs with their colorful cabs, the names of their owners ornately painted on the doors, their chrome diesel engine exhaust pipes pointing to the sky which was filled with flying insects attracted to those burning hot halogen beacons.
Tommy walked the line to the last parked truck, a light blue painted Freightliner cab with large roundish curved black lettering announcing that the rig was owned by Chet Baker. Tommy gazed down towards the end of the eighteen-wheeler, two trailers worth of productive hauling power.
Suddenly the door opened and staring down at Tommy was Chet's alert and wise face, a face that had been driving rigs for well over thirty-five years, its owner, well into his late fifties, a true veteran of America's rural roadways and interstate arterials.
Tommy swallowed, "Nice truck."
Chet looked down, "What the hell are you doing here boy? How old are you anyway?"
"Fifteen years old mister, so you gonna let me see inside of your truck?"
"Fifteen? You should be at home in bed, not wandering around in places you don't belong, now get!"
Tommy was not used to being talked to like that, not even from his own father, but Chet's tone and manner excited him in a way he had never felt before. The man looked healthy, not like the skinny city dead-beats he was used to seeing. Even better, the man looked stacked, out front that is. Tommy quickly imagined that this man was ready for "business" at any time of the day or night, just like a lone wolf, the kind that guards his territory and won't take no for an answer.
But Tommy wasn't ready to back off just yet, "What if I don't? Any law says I can't just walk up and down these rows and look?"
Chet put on a fake grin, he didn't like smart ass young boys, who did in his business?
"Any law says I can't take off this belt of mine, take your pants down and give you a whipping that will send you limping back down the road from wherever you belong?"
Tommy's mouth went slack and his dick stirred and he started to tremble a little and walk backwards as Chet made a move to jump down to the pavement from the elevated cab,
"No Sir! I'll be leaving now!" and Tommy did just that.
Chet shook his head side to side and made for the café. He was starved of good food, a long hot shower and some needed sleep.
Tommy high-tailed it home and arrived just before his folks did and was found under the covers in his bed. Tommy kept his eyes closed as his bedroom door opened, then closed, his body "proof" that he had behaved and not wandered as he had. Tommy then grinned, threw the covers back and masturbated himself, imagining Chet Baker's belt whipping his young tender tail into an oblivion of crimson then giving the man any kind of sexual service he desired.
* * * * * * * * * *
Over the ensuing days, Tommy kept his hands busy with his father's bidding on the farm, but his mind and off hours were doing overtime with finding out everything he could about truckers and their habits. He even carefully inquired at the truck stop when one certain Mr. Chet Baker would once again be parked in the stop's lot, once a week. He was told just once per week, so it was good enough.
Two weeks later and fourteen nights worth of masturbations, Chet Baker's form looming over his virgin naked body in his lust-crazy mind as he beat off each time, Tommy carefully snuck out of his bedroom window after being checked on by his mom and dad and made his way back to the truck stop.
At night, his house was close enough to see the bright-lighted truck stop property in the distance and Tommy even found a short cut across a field of growing hay and managed to enter the truck stop at the far end where the trucks all parked and where once again he found Chet Baker's light blue Freightliner cab and double trailer.
Tommy was careful to note that Chet was not with the rig, so he climbed up on the passenger side and looked inside to the world of self-containment; the giant steering wheel and long spear-like gear shift pole and CB radio. He looked in back of the large bench-like seat to the small sleeping cubicle and imagined himself inside, his tender virginal and naked body being mounted from behind by a sex-crazy man called Chet Baker, hungry for a boy's tender back-side to slake his high appetites.
Tommy then jumped down and quickly looked around himself. There was nobody about and he was desperate to jack himself off, right there on the spot. He dared himself just then and spying the giant tire right in front of himself, thrust down his jeans and briefs to mid-thigh and went at his young hard pole.
Chet had just finished cleaning up after a very late supper in the stop's cafe. He did not often sleep in the sleazy truck stop motel rooms and opted this night, as usual, to head for the comforts of his own self-contained Freightliner sleeping compartment. Imagine his surprise as he rounded the end of his unhitched double trailers to find a punk boy masturbating his young prick towards the one of the giant forward double tires!
"Boy!" Chet shouted. Tommy's stuff was just starting to spurt out the end of his dick and once started, he could not stop and Chet was on him a few moments later as Tommy was helpless to the end of his own orgasm.
"Don't hurt me please!" Tommy shouted in great fear, as well he should. Chet shook his head, "Fool boy! Get yourself put back together and get in that truck, NOW!"
Tommy did as he was told and said not a word save how to drive to his home as he huddled himself as close as he could to the far door as he could. Chet drove the Freightliner's rig out of the lot and easily found Tommy's home, the trucks huge front lights suddenly illuminating the front living room of a very shocked pair of parents.
"What is going on!? Who are you?!" Merle shouted as he and his wife came out to the front porch and then they saw Tommy,
"Tommy?! You're supposed to be in bed! What's going on?!"
Chet Baker filled Tommy's folks in on his brief encounters with their son, the last of which made Merle's face blush with humiliation, "I am so sorry Mr. Baker, but this boy of mine has a wild streak, the same as I did as a boy, I'm not quite sure what to do with him!"
"Call me Chet Mr. Pierce and your boy would not be the first or last to do what he did. I'm just not sure he should be wandering around that truck stop at night. Not everyone there is as friendly as I am about that kind of thing."
The men shook hands as Tommy looked on incredulously. Tommy's mom just sighed, satisfied that the men should deal with her boy and not her and went back indoors.
"My name's Merle and I'm sure glad he ran into a man like you Chet. I'm awful sorry for his behavior and will try and keep him away. But if I might ask, what would you do, if he were your boy?"
"That's easy. I'd have his young bare tail whipped to a crisp, a real scorcher for each time he thinks he's going to misbehave like that, but that's my way."
Merle looked at Tommy, "You hear that? You want that man whipping on your bare butt, you just keep this up. I'm not gonna stand in his way if there is a next time, Tommy. You're playing with fire son and you'll get burnt if you keep it up. Now get back to your room!" and the two men watched the boy retreat.
Merle shook Chet's hand, "If that boy of mine is found around that truck stop again Chet, you've my permission to deal with him as you see fit."
"Will do Merle, you take care now!" and Chet entered his truck cab and drove back to the truck stop.
Tommy soon huddled himself behind his bedroom door, his penis alive and hard and needing relief. He had just narrowly escaped what he knew would be a world of real pain, not fantasy, should he keep up his sneaky ways. The masturbations that night were especially satisfying.
But once again over time, Tommy could not help himself, the real threat of the prior encounter with Chet Baker and his own father seemed a distant fantasy that had yet to be fulfilled. Two more weeks later, Tommy Pierce made his way out of his bedroom late at night and back to the truck stop, his parents not about to turn their home into a prison nor impose restrictions on a boy who they knew would find his way to trouble no matter what they did or did not do. He had been warned.
Tommy found Chet's truck again and this time, finding the passenger side door open, climbed up inside and sat in Chet's driver's seat. It was a magnificent place to be with all the levers and knobs and what was that? Tommy looked up and saw the small chain that might set off the truck's loud and blaring horn, but when he pulled on it, nothing happened.
Then Tommy got on his knees on the bench seat and climbed up and back into the tiny sleeping cubicle and lay down, pretending that he owned the rig. He turned on the small light and looked around at all of Chet's personal things. There were pictures everywhere of men and women and a few very old pictures of boys and girls.
There was a pouch with a pipe and aromatic pipe tobacco, a pair of reading glasses and a small area with a pile of paperback books, all of them old western dime store novels of adventure. There were maps and truck manuals and sheets and sheets of load manifests of course. But then, when Tommy searched further, he found Chet's stack of sex magazines. There were all kinds, men, women, straight, gay, it was all there, in just about every kind of kink that Tommy could have imagined, much less many he had no idea could be imagined.
Tommy then settled back, laying one of the magazines on his chest and started to paw at his hardened front bulge, but should he not get out of there? Chet Baker could show up at any moment and if he was caught inside, there would be no stopping the big man from painfully whipping on his tail, just like he had heard his Dad give permission. But isn't that what Tommy wanted? Didn't he want to finally find out for real some of the things his mind had always fantasized about? But it was warm and comfortable in that cubicle, that he faded off to sleep.
Chet's evening was as usual. Long hauling veterans like him were creatures of habit and superstition, seldom changing long-standing routines, so that when he approached his big rig that night, he just knew something was not quite right. He walked around the rig and sure enough, the passenger side door was not completely shut. Chet knew somebody had intruded inside and kind of thought he knew who it was as well.
"What?!" Tommy's eyes came open and he looked up. There was Chet Baker staring at him. Tommy had nodded off for a few minutes in the comfortable compartment.
"I figured it was you boy. Decided to take a walk on the wild side did you?"
Tommy's heart was pounding with both fear and excitement, no matter the latter was quite possibly a foolish feeling or not; in any case, Tommy was not stupid, "I suppose you're gonna give me a good hard whipping now like Dad said you could."
Chet reached over and grabbed up the sex magazines that were loose, bundled them up square and sat them on the driver's seat.
"And I suppose you've never had a good whipping," Chet replied.
"Never even been spanked, but I think about it a lot, the whipping that is."
"Either you're an idiot fool or just a kid that has a lot on his mind in that way, or maybe a bit of both," Chet said calmly.
Tommy didn't know what it was, but he liked Chet Baker and decided to take his shot, "Just tell me what to do. If you want me to leave, just say so. If you want whip my ass, say that too."
"Fine, I'll have at your ass and see if you think it was worth the trouble after. Get those pants and shorts off and lay your legs over the edge of the cubicle."
Tommy obeyed and got more and more excited by the second as he bared his young tail and slid his legs down over the edge from the sleeping stall and set his toes down on the cab's bench seat. His arms and head remained inside. Chet smiled at what he saw, basically a very young attractive bare boy bottom, the kind he had never had the pleasure to whip upon.
Tommy heard Chet's big belt come out of its resting place around Chet's belt loops.
"This is gonna hurt!" Chet said and doubled up the belt, then took a swing. There was only room for short cuts of that belt, but it was plenty.
"Arrrrrgggghhhhhh!" Tommy yelped even on the first one. Nothing had ever hurt his behind like that before!
Chet just grinned, "You just hold on Tommy, you have this coming ten different ways!" and Tommy did.
Each cut of that hard belt made him wish he had stayed home and never saw the truck stop, but each hard pain also made him feel a bit closer to something else that he had been yearning for, some kind of feeling of being put in his place as he really knew he needed as well as treated like a man some, rather than a boy. But even that feeling faded quickly as that belt was really going to town. Tommy got to yelling and then screaming as Chet was whipping his tail with strength and speed.
By the time Chet stopped, Tommy's knees were climbing up the back of the seat back and nearly into the sleeping cubicle, his tail throbbing like a mother, his face wet with tears.
"Had enough?!" Chet said with a grin, nursing a nice erection for himself inside of his trousers.
"Yes, I think so!!" Tommy said with a high pitched voice.
"I think so too. Now, if I were you, I'd get down, get dressed and get out. You've got me all worked up and seeing that this is my place, I'm gonna need some time to work it out."
"You mean you're gonna beat off?" Tommy asked, not moving a muscle, his dick surprisingly not far behind in feeling the good lustful effects that a good ass whipping can give some boys who like that kind of thing.
"That's exactly what I mean," Chet said with no hesitation.
"If it's all the same to you, I'll stay here with you and do the same."
Chet smiled, "Fine with me, scoot over," and Tommy did.
It was tight quarters, but that was OK. For the next hour or so, Tommy's naked smaller body laid kind of half off and half on Chet's bigger naked body, Tommy's head nestled in the crook of Chet's neck. They shared a masturbation together, twice in fact, but not any other touching. The man touched only himself, the boy did the same with his; but after that, Chet treated Tommy's ears to stories of the road, the many funny and strange things he had encountered over his many years of driving his Freightliner up and down or across and back America's web of interstate highways and byways.
* * * * * * * * * *
A deep friendship developed between Chet Baker, Tommy's father, Merle, and of course, Tommy. Just a month later would find Tommy Pierce spending the rest of that summer deadheading with Chet Baker for weeks at a time, but always passing through to that same truck stop week after week, taking the time to say hello, Tommy to his parents and Chet to Tommy's mom and dad.
A certain boy's rump was made sore and red on a regular basis on those long hauls that summer, always followed by a pair of nice solo endings, but they never did anything else together, intimately speaking, that summer or any other. The years that followed would eventually give way to a simple but rare platonic relationship and friendship that never did end.
Chet Baker would eventually retire and sold his rig to Tommy and Merle Pierce, Tommy taking up the lone wolf's call to long haul driving, rich memories of that first summer always making Tommy smile whenever he parked the rig at the same truck stop that started it, whipped tail and all.
© Copyright PJ Franklin June 30, 2009
Your comments are appreciated. pjfranklinboy2@earthlink.net
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Main Story PageLast updated: June 30, 2009