Date: Tue, 9 May 2006 16:16:17 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: "Blue Plate Special"

			    BLUE PLATE SPECIAL
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

The big rig gearing down was what woke Clayton up. He jerked upright,
rubbed his cheek where it had rested against the windowpane of the
passenger side of the truck, and over at Marshall. "Why we stopping?" he
asked.
     "Lunchtime." Marshall said, "Got a great place for lunch coming up."
     "Yeah?" Clayton perked up. One thing about riding with an experienced
trucker like Marshall, you learned where all the good places to eat
were. Take this place that was coming up. It was strictly a dive on the
outside, but the parking lot was filled with trucks. You never would have
guessed it was a terrific place to get a bite on the road from its
appearance.
     Clayton had come around while Marshall was busily putting the big rig
into idle/lockdown (you didn't shut down a truck for anything less than a
gas-up stop or when you were going to crash for a few hours. A lunch-stop,
lasting less than an hour...hell, it took that long to get the motor warmed
back up again!
     So with the Mac drive-train locked down so it couldn't be stolen even
though it was still idling, we walked toward the diner's door, Marshall
stepped down from the big rig. "Now remember one thing." he said.
     "What?"
     "Ask for the blue plate special."
     "Huh?" Clayton said. "You sure?" The "blue plate special" was strictly
a blast from the past, he hadn't thought any restaurant did it anymore! A
restaurant would take whatever they could fix cheaply or make out of food
that was about to go bad, and turn it into the blue-plate special, you paid
a lower rate for the food...but that wasn't the way to get the best in the
house! Strictly cattle fodder for low-paid secretaries and ditch-diggers!
     "I'm sure." Marshall said. "This guy has a new spin on it."
     "Well...okay." Clayton said dubiously.
     He walked in and the inside of the place didn't look any better than
the outside. A bunch of men and a fair percentage of boys, sitting and
eating. One thing different...over to one side, in an area set off by a low
railing like you'd see inside a courthouse, sat a bench loaded with young
boys, whose ages were from maybe six or seven years old up to about ten or
eleven. These boys all perked up when Clayton and Marshall walked in,
smiling and wide-eyed.
     "Hey, Godfrey!" Marshall called to the dour-eyed man behind the bar.
     "Hey, Marshall!" Godfrey answered in return. "You're back this way
again?"
     "Wouldn't miss a lunch here, you know that."
     "Blue plate special?"
     "You bet, and one for my new partner." Marshall said.
     "Help yourself. There's a good selection today, and room at the bar."
     "Good selection, yeah." Marshall agreed, but he was looking at the
boys, not the menu perched over Godfrey's head. Clayton looked at it and
whistled. Blue plate special? The damned blue plate was priced at $25.00!
And the rest of the menu items didn't go above $6.95!
     "Make your choice, Clayton." Marshall said. "You can go first."
     "I thought we were getting the blue plate special. You don't get a
choice." That was true, you could ask what the contents were, but the
option was otherwise take-it-or-leave-it.
     "Not the food." Marshall said with scorn. "The boys. Pick a boy."
     "Huh?" Clayton said. "For what?"
     "To serve you during the special." Marshall said. "You want me to pick
first, show you how it's done?"
     "Uh...yeah."
     "Okay." Marshall strode over to the railing. The boys were all leaning
forward as they stared at the burly, bearded trucker. "Who do we have here
today?"
     "Hey Marshall." one boy said in return. Dark haired, smoothly dark
skin that spoke of either Latin or American Indian blood in him, though not
a pure-blood. "Remember me?"
     "Sure, Loren, I remember you." Marshall said. "You were mine what,
three trips ago?"
     "Uh-huh." the boy said. "Can I serve you again?" The eagerness the boy
exuded was palpable, like winning a privilege.
     "You sure can." Marshall said. The boy got up from his seat and headed
for the little door to the railing. "Okay, Clayton, now you pick one."
     "How?" Clayton still didn't get it.
     "Pick which one you think is cutest." Marshall said in some
exasperation. "Whichever one catches your eye."
     Marshall was getting impatient, Clayton decided, best to shut up and
just go along with him or Marshall would be a total bastard the rest of the
trip. Pick the cutest boy? The one who catches his eye?"
     He looked the boys over. Did any of these boys...?
     That one, he looked to be about nine years old. A face more pretty
than handsome, but not feminine. Another sun-browned skin that spoke of
exotic ancestry. The eyes were dark orbs that shone, the teeth showed
themselves timidly as the boy smiled, the face was thin but as delicate as
a willow-tree's branches....
     The boy smiled wider, and nodded. Clayton nodded back and the boy
stood up.
     "Hey, that's a nice one." Marshall said. "Now, come on, let's get over
to the bar and get this lunch started. We got to finish up and get back on
the road."
     Clayton did and the boy came up beside him as they made their way past
the tables to the bar. "My name is Gilbert, but they call me Jib." The boy
said. Not a trace of the Hispanic accent in that voice, pure American
English.
     "My name is Clayton." Clayton supplied. "So you'll be serving me my
lunch?"
     "I serve you during your lunch." Jib responded. "You are new to
this. You will see."
     "All right."
     He got over to the bar and saw that the boy Marshall had picked out
was actually underneath the bar, which had a wide overhang, wider than such
bars normally had. The boy was down on his hands and knees before one of
the barstools. Clayton watched as Marshall, who was hitching at the front
of his trousers, got up onto the barstool.
     There was only one place left empty and it w as beside
Marshall. Clayton walked up a little closer and got his first good look at
the bar.
     Eight stools, seven of which were now occupied. Each stool held a man
sitting at the counter. Beneath each of these stools was a boy, kneeling in
front of the seated man. Now that Clayton was up close he could see what
the "service" was.
     It was a row of boys sucking trucker's cocks. The men were ranging in
reaction to a careless indifference to the activity below their belts, and
others were grasping the edge of the counter to hold themselves in place
while their prongs were slurped on by young boy-mouths. There was the sound
of wet suctioning lips as the boys nursed the trucker's dicks, and that
noise, plus a few soft moans, were all that was going on at the counter.
     Clayton looked around the rest of the room. There were tablecloths
over the tables that had obscured it from him before, but now he realized
that the man/boy sex happening here was pretty much universal. A few men
seemed to be eating lunch without such a service going on, but the biggest
majority were getting their cocks sucked, or some had the boy up next to
them at the table, the little arm reaching down to work the man's dong
while the man and boy kissed. Some men seemed to be bent over so they could
suck their own charge's dongs.
     "Holy mother Hell!" Clayton said, louder than he thought he would.
     "Hey, quiet." Marshall said to him as heads turned to look at
him. "Custom is to keep it all quiet in here. Just sit down and eat your
meal like me." Marshall was now at the counter sitting on the stool, and
his fat schlong was stuffed down his boy's (Loren's) hot little
mouth. Loren was grunting with obvious ecstatic abandon as he scarfed down
the huge pud, and Marshall grinned at the boy then up at Clayton. "Come on,
sit down. You'll enjoy it, I haven't found one of these boys yet who didn't
suck a dick better'n any wife, girlfriend or whore I ever had."
     "Please, sir." said Jib. He was now under the counter, at the empty
bar stool (at Clayton's stool!) and he waited for Clayton. "Let me do this
for you. Please, I want do, sir. Please let me suck your cock."
     "What's going on here?" Clayton asked Marshall instead.
     "Damfino." Marshall said. "I don't ask too many questions. I know
nobody's forcing these boys to do it, and I don't pay them anything. It's
part of the price of the meal, and ever'one comes in here either pays it or
takes off in a hurry. You want to wait in the truck until I'm done, you go
ahead. I'll bring you out a burger in a bag."
     "Please, sir." Jib said again and his head reached up and his chin
rested on the bar stool. "I am waiting." And his little tongue came out and
licked his lips insolently.
     Damn, Clayton thought, with his common sense rapidly disappearing, and
for good reason, it was tenting out his jeans something painful. He either
had to let this boy suck his cock or he had to get into the bathroom and
wank it, and right now! Surrounded by men and boys having sex, it was
getting to him and powerfully!
     Jib licked his lips again and his index finger crooked and wiggled a
"come here" to him.
     It was like sleepwalking, Clayton thought as he slowly walked to the
bar stool. His fingers were undoing his jeans buttons without any orders
from him. Just like they were fishing into his travel-stained briefs, all
funky with his crotch sweat, to pull out the hard prong like a fish from
the water on a cool summer morning, bursting out of the water all silvery
sparkle and alive, shattering the stillness of the world around! Like that,
his cock burst out and with it, the last bit of his reticence evaporated,
and he took the bar stool between his legs by a straddle-and-hop that was
almost savage.
     "Attaboy." Marshall approved as Clayton got into position. "Let one of
these boys clean your pipes and you won't be wanting a woman on them ever
again. They're all cock-hungry, these boys, you won't have any complaints."
     Clayton wasn't looking at Marshall anymore, he was entranced by that
magnificently gorgeous boy-face as it leaned in and the mouth, a pure dark
oval accented by the pink tongue, reached out and took his pud upon it like
a jeweler places a diamond upon a tiny velvet pillow, and the warm moisture
touched the bottom of his prong and then the top and bottom lips clasped
shut like the ring box's lid shuts, enclosing his treasure within.
     Jib's mouth now having caught his glans, he moved downwards to engulf
more of the shaft, and hot wetness followed in his wake. Clayton watched
with astonished eyes as Jib managed to take nearly all of his eight-inch
whanger into that small mouth, and then held it there, and then as the
mouth quivered with its prey, that quiver transferred to Clayton by
electrical current coursing up his cock into his body and up to his brain
and when it reached his vocal chords, he let out a long, low groan.
     "Here you go." said Godfrey and he placed a blue plate in front of
Clayton.
     His eyes shimmering from the joy at his groin, Clayton glanced at the
plate, then looked harder. A few small slices of apple and other, less
identifiable fruit, lay upon it. "What's this?" he said.
     "Just the appetizer." Marshall supplied, his voice getting husky from
his boy's ardent attentions. "Something to nibble on if you like. Some
guys...uhhh! They like to act....huh! Act like nothing's....uhhh! Nothing's
going on. Whoof! Try it, see if you...guh! You can eat while you...uhhh!
Get your organ played for you. Oh man! Marshall reached down and left off
all his pretensions of eating as he grabbed Loren's head with both hands
and began to hunch the small head back and forth urgently.
     In a surreal haze, Clayton reached out and picked up a slice of apple
from the plate. Godfrey was watching him with a look that was part
benevolent, part mercenary, part curious. Waiting to see what Clayton would
do, and would there be a buck in it for him, Clayton judged.
     He placed the apple slice between his teeth. God, his cock was humming
already from the action below the counter, that sweet young boy he'd picked
was doing a proper job on him, Marshall was right! He couldn't imagine ever
letting his dick into anyone else's mouth after this! God, he wanted to
just take Jib right out the door with him, carry this boy around the
country with him on the long hauls, set up house with him! Shit, one good
blow-job and his heart was busily falling in love!
     He forced himself to bite down on the apple slice. The apple was
rather sour, not good quality at all. He made himself chew on it, letting
the strong tang penetrate his brain. It didn't detract from his sex, it
added to it. Pleasure of eating upon pleasure of being sucked! Hell, why
not! He chewed eagerly, even though he had to throw his head back and
squinch his eyes tight to keep from yelping out in joy with a full
mouth. He managed to get the apple down because his teeth had ground it to
a soft mulch more than having digested it any, and when the apple hit his
stomach which was already fluttering from the sex going on just beneath it,
his body swelled.
     "Oh, God!" he gasped out. "Oh, cripes, man, God, damn, yeah!"
     "Hell of a feeling, ain't it?" Marshall crooned. He was obviously
close, the big lunk of a trucker man, but he would talk though it killed
him. "Every trip I make out and back, I stop here. A great place to eat and
get blown! God, yeah!"
     Clayton looked down again at the angel-faced boy who was nursing his
prick, Jib looked up at him and a smile quirked the cheeks for a moment as
he bobbed back and forth.
     "Oh, fuck, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Marshall groaned. "Here it comes,
boy, hang on tight and don't miss any of it! Ah, yeah, ahh, ahh, GAHH, AHH,
AHHH-HUHHH!"
     "Shhh!" came the voices around them, a shush whispered further by
sex-burdened throats that beggared the breath for anything but panting. All
around Clayton, men were getting off, boys were gulping down the hot sperm
the men shot, their baritone and bass voices were venting gutteral phrases,
and Marshall right beside him, loudest of all.
     And an angel was sucking his cock, a nine-year-old little angel of a
boy, contentedly working his prong, moving as if he never wanted to do
anything else at all, ever, but suck on Clayton's pud and didn't have
anything else to do or want to do. Total, complete devotion to Clayton's
cock which was giving off a very-familiar tingling feeling.
     With Marshall still vocally and now profanely praising his boy's
talents, Clayton felt abashed at doing the same, he instead leaned over
slightly and whispered to Jib. "I'm going to come, now, Jib. Are you ready
for it? Do I shoot it in your mouth or do you want to pull off now?"
     "Nuh-uh!" was Jib's only answer and he sucked Clayton's prong even
more heartily and ardently, if that were possible. Under those tender young
ministrations, Clayton could only grab hold of the counter like the gunwale
of a lifeboat in a storm as his body was tempest-tossed by the delights of
a talented boy-mouth around his dong! Climax hit him like multi-colored
fireworks and Clayton closed his eyes as the first onslaught of ejaculation
struck him, then he found himself overbearingly curious and he forced his
eyes open and looked down, still squirting, to watch Jib take his jizz.
     Jib had a blissful look on his face, like a boy sucking on a sweet
rather than a hot, funky trucker cock, and his throat was gulping with
visible motions of his jaws and neck, Clayton felt his salty man-load
spurting from his prick into that sweet boy-mouth, but from there, it was
drunk down with a manner approaching reverence.
     Every last droplet of jism ended up out of Clayton's cock and in Jib's
mouth before Jib finished, and even then, Jib continued to nurse Clayton's
dong, drawing out every last erg of ecstasy from his tool.
     Clayton was jarred from his egocentric joy by Marshall's hand clapping
his shoulder. "That's the way of it here." he said jovially. "You give that
kid a good load, did you?"
     "Yeah." Clayton affirmed reluctantly and Marshall guffawed.
     "You have to admit, this is a hell of a nice place to eat, isn't it?"
     "I guess." Clayton said. "I haven't eaten much yet."
     "Main course is coming up." Marshall said. "We got an empty
table. What say we take these plates and these little cock-suckers over to
the table and get more comfortable?"
     "Okay." Clayton would have said anything to shut him up.
     Out from the counter, Jib was willing to sit beside Clayton and
Marshall assured him that he could feed the boy tidbits from his plate
without Godfrey getting upset. "I'd say the boys worked here for their
food." Marshall said as he finished his food. The main course had been a
dollop of some sort of tuna casserole, edible but not fantastic. "Only
these two already got a hot lunch from our serving trays, didn't they?"
     Jib's hand was on Clayton's pud, just holding it and Clayton looked at
Jib before answering. "I guess we're all happy with this arrangement." And
he put his arm around Jib who cuddled into him gratefully, smiling with a
beatific, beautiful boy-grin. "Only what happens now to these boys?"
     "They go back to the pen and wait for the next one." Marshall said.
     "Seems a shame to treat them like this." Clayton said. And to Jib. "Do
you want to get away from here? You could come with us?"
     "Huh? The hell you say." Marshall put in.
     "Shut up!" Clayton snapped and Marshall subsided. To Jib. "Do you want
to come with us?"
     "No, sir, but thank you. I like it here." Jib said. "Everyone is so
nice to me and it is fun to make men happy."
     "Godfrey isn't forcing you to do this?" Clayton asked.
     "Oh, no!" Jib said sincerely, in a tone that Clayton had to believe.
     "All right then." Clayton said. "We'll be back this way in about three
days. Will you be here?"
     "I will be here." Jib assured him. "Now, sir, if you please, I would
like to go back to the pen. Maybe another man will come along and choose me
soon." He assuaged Clayton's feelings by a very sincere squeeze on his pud
as he said this.
     "All right." Clayton felt his belly warm at the sight of the thin,
gorgeous young body that went back to sit inside the railing. All around
him, he saw men and boys continuing to enjoy each other. Nobody being
forced, no pay outside of the price for the meal (he assumed some of it got
to the boys, but it wasn't obvious), the boys seemed to all be doing it for
the sheer enjoyment of having a man's cock to work over. Thinking on his
own youth, maybe that was the answer after all, he wouldn't have minded if
a man had come along at the right moment back then!
     He and Marshall returned to their truck. As they pulled out, he stared
at the diner and the landmarks around it carefully. He wanted to be sure
that, if he came back this way alone, he'd know just where this place was.
     After all, being a trucker, he needed to know where the best places to
eat were.

				  THE END
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