Date: Tue, 7 Jun 2005 03:53:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Doe <johndoe636769@yahoo.com>
Subject: Jump Start

This is a work of fiction. The characters and backstory are based on an
actual event and actual individuals. Names have been changed to protect the
less-than-innocent. This work involves fictional depictions of homosexual
activities between consenting adults If accessing or possessing materials
of this nature is illegal in your jurisdiction, or if you are under the
legal age for accessing or possessing materials of this nature, consider
moving to a new jurisdiction. If you are offended by fictional depictions
of homosexual acts between consenting adults, consider seeking treatment
from a qualified mental health professional. Void where prohibited, no
purchase necessary, all rights reserved.

[If you want a description of "my" character in order to aid your
visualization, jump to the end of the story before reading. Otherwise, make
up your own description, or insert yourself. One final note: The characters
herein do not engage in safe sex practices; this author does not endorse
unsafe sex by any individuals. Don't be a fool, wrap your tool.]

Jump Start

It was one of those days. Rainy and overcast, the day was shaping up to be
wet and dreary. To top it off, there wasn't a decent thing in the whole
house to eat. Thus, the supermarket called to me. An early morning visit
would be perfect; the shelves would still be stocked, and the stockers
would be out of the way. Nothing in the supermarket irritates me more than
to have the employees act as though they're annoyed by having customers in
the store. However, such a trip was not to be.

I pulled on a light jacket and jogged out into the rain, headed for my
SUV. Slipping inside, I turned the key and was rewarded with absolutely
nothing. For the third time in two weeks, the blasted battery was
dead. "Bugger...Bugger....Bugger! I have to get a new car," I growled,
reaching for the cell phone to call for roadside assistance. This would be
my second call to "BBSQ" Emergency Roadside Assistance, and I hoped it
would be more pleasant than the first. I headed back into the house,
listening to the Weather Channel-esque hold music and praying for an
operator with 'people-skills.'

"BBSQ Emergency Roadside Assistance, this is Constance.  I need your name
and BBSQ Member number," a rather rough sounding voice demanded. So much
for 'people-skills.'

"My name is Mark Bailey, and the member number is 9960-4347-2179. It's my
dad's account, it may be under his name, Phillip." I replied. The rest of
the conversation was much the same; she snapped questions at me, and I gave
answers. Apparently, she had difficulty understanding the concept of a
'family account,' and had particular trouble with the idea that I lived in
a different city from my parents. We finally arrived at the important
matter--my dead battery--and after a long period on hold, with more
rejected elevator music, I was assured a tow truck from 'City Towing &
Recovery' would be on its way within an hour.

"Really, I'd be satisfied with a priest and a pair of jumper cables," I
offered. Constance wasn't amused.

"They'll be there when they're there," were her final words, before a rude
click ended our ever-so-pleasant morning chat.

So, I waited for the tow truck to arrive and shock my comatose truck back
into service. I laughed as I had visions of a cute mechanic in a white lab
coat screaming "CLEAR" as he applied the cables to my truck. If today's
driver was anything like the previous driver BBSQ sent, 'plumber-butt' was
more likely.

Finally at quarter of twelve, after two hours of waiting, I saw a wrecker
emblazoned with 'City Towing' drive past the house, ignoring the large
street number printed above the door. "Not the brightest wrench in the
set," I thought to myself as I walked out the front door to flag down the
driver. It was still raining, and I wished I had grabbed my jacket on the
way out. I managed to catch his attention on the next pass, and indicated
the rear of the building where my truck was parked.

I stopped back in the house to retrieve my keys and a jacket, and then made
my way out back. Once outside, I was quite happily surprised to find that
the truck driver was far from 'plumber-butt' material. In fact, he was
hot. I popped the hood on the truck and stepped back to give him room to
set up the cables. I seized the opportunity to inspect the stud as he
worked.

He was definitely a hot guy. About my age, twenty-two or so, he stood
around six feet tall and one hundred sixty-five pounds with a nice compact
built. He had the 'boy-next-door' appeal. He looked like he could have
played football in high school, and he was very quickly getting my 'engine
running.' Dressed in worn carpenter-style jeans, tennis shoes, and a "City
Towing" work shirt, he definitely fit the blue-collar sexy image. Brown
hair showed under a backwards blue New York cap. The patch above his shirt
pocket read "Brian."

His clothes were dripping from the rain, no doubt he had been out in it all
morning, and it only added to my attraction. The soaked white work shirt
clung to his sculpted body, outlining his V-shaped back, from his broad,
muscular shoulders down to his trim, tight waist. I wanted to rip off his
clothes and fuck him on the hood of my truck. He didn't have a dry spot on
him, the rain was dripping down his face as he hooked up the cables and
quickly jump-started the truck.

I snapped back into reality as he handed me the invoice to sign. As he was
putting back his equipment, an idea snuck into my head. Although it was a
long shot at best, and an invitation to a gay-bashing at worst, I seized
the opportunity. "Hey, Brian, do you have another run to make?" I asked,
praying he didn't.

"No, it's noon; lunchtime," was his reply. "Why?"

My heart stopped. "Well, I feel kinda guilty that you had to come all the
way out here just for this, and now your completely soaked." I said, in my
best
'I'm-really-a-nice-guy-and-not-a-pervert-who-wants-to-screw-your-brains-out'
voice. "Why don't you come in and dry off, and I'll make you lunch."

"Well, we're really not supposed to accept tips or anything from people,
but I guess it would be okay...I'm really drenched." I thought I was going
to have a heart attack on the spot.

As I led the way into the house, he stopped and pulled off his tennis shoes
and socks at the door. "You have hardwood floors," he said "if I come in,
I'll ruin them."

To get him inside, I'd have ripped up the floors and poured concrete, but I
kept my cool. Now was my opportunity. "Strip off whatever is wet and I'll
put it in the dryer...That way, you'll have dry clothes and won't drip on
the floor. I'll go get you a towel; you can step into the bathroom over
there if you want." I said as I started down the hall. I didn't want to
miss his striptease, but I also didn't want to freak him out and make him
leave.

"Hold on, you can take these with you." Apparently, Brian had no problem
with me seeing him strip, and I wasn't going to argue.

"Okay." I replied, perhaps a bit too excitedly. As I watched, he popped
open the first button on his shirt. I was hard just imagining what was to
come.

An all to obvious sigh of excitement mixed with expectation escaped me, and
Brian smiled. "I thought you might want to watch. You were checking me out
while I jumped your truck."

Holy God, I had been found out. Now, I would die, in my own house, at the
hands of the uber-hot tow truck driver. I took a step back, but decided to
be brave. If I was going to be gay-bashed, I might as well push it as far
as I could.

"Yeah, I did. I wanted to fuck your brains out on the hood of my truck. I
want to rip your clothes off and fuck you 'till you scream," I said, with
confidence I didn't know I had, and an obvious new taste for dirty talk.

"I thought so. Do it."

A fly could have knocked me over. "Wha? Huh? Ha? How? Wha?" I stammered,
caught off guard by his response.

He smiled bigger. "You said you want to rip my clothes off and fuck me
'till I scream," he said. "I want you to. So, take me to the fucking
bedroom, rip off my fucking clothes and fuck my fucking brains out. Unless
you want to do it here on the floor."

I did not need to be told twice. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him
down the hall. What happened next was a scene straight out of a porn. I
pulled him in the bedroom, grabbed his shirt and ripped it open. His broad,
muscled chest and ripped stomach were amazing, and I wanted to spend the
rest of the day licking him into submission. There was, however, more to
do.

I pulled my t-shirt over my head and returned my attention to Brian. I
pulled the shirt from his shoulders and ran my hands over his body; down
his shoulders onto his sides, up his back. Consumed, I roughly pushed him
onto the bed and unbuckled his belt, pulling it from the loops. "Don't
worry," I told him, holding the belt doubled in my hand, "I won't use this
unless you want me to." Brian smiled and licked his lips seductively.

Returning to his pants, I pulled open the button and unzipped the
fly. Grabbing them by the legs, I pulled them off him, leaving him laying
on the bed in his black boxer-briefs and backwards cap. Standing over him,
I looked down at him with the desire to fuck him until he couldn't walk
straight. The look on his face disclosed the same desire.

Unbuttoning my jeans, I let them drop to the floor. Then leaning over
Brian, I took the waistband of his boxer-briefs and pulled them down his
legs, tossing them aside. Brian lay naked on the bed, wearing nothing but
his blue baseball cap and a smile that betrayed his desire. His muscled
body glistened with sweat and the remnants of the rainstorm.

I motioned for him to come toward me and he crawled over to me on
all-fours, looking up into my eyes. I pulled the cap from his head; he
watched as I put it on and stared back down at him. Taking him by the
shoulder, I pulled him off the bed, then pushed him, kneeling, onto the
floor.

"Suck me," I said, and pushed my hard cock completely into his mouth. I
took his head in my hands and began pounding my dick into his mouth. I
fucked his face with abandon, shoving my cock into his mouth while pulling
his head into me. His face collided with my stomach, my balls slapping his
chin on each stroke, all the while his eyes staying locked with mine.

Grabbing him by his short hair, I pulled his head off my cock. I grabbed
his arm and pulled him up to me, whispering in his ear. "I want to tie your
hands to the bed and fuck your brains out."

"Do it," he whispered back. I pushed him onto his back on the bed, and
grabbing his belt, straddled his chest. Looping his belt, I cinched his
wrists together and slid the leather strap around the headboard. Then,
grabbing his head again, I shoved my cock back into his warm, wet
mouth. "Get me wet, baby, I'm gonna fuck the life out of you."

Pulling my dick from his mouth, I slid back to the bottom of the bed, and
pushed his knees back to his shoulders. Spreading his cheeks, I lined my
dick up with his hole. I slammed all seven inches into him, knocking the
breath out of him. Before he could recover, I began pounding his ass,
slamming my cock into his tight, hot hole with all the force I could
muster.

Taking his ankles in my hands, I pressed his knees back to the bed even
with his shoulders, spreading his ass wide and letting me plow him
deeper. I pistoned my cock into his wide-open ass, feeling the heat and the
tightness sourrounding my throbbing prick. I continued to ram him, harder
and harder, until each thrust knocked the breath out of him.

Looking at him only made me fuck him harder. I looked down at this
well-muscled stud, with his arms tied above his head, his legs spread wide,
pushed back to his shoulders, whimpering as each thrust found it's mark,
forcing the air from his lungs and eliciting a moan from deep within
him. We were like animals, me fucking him into oblivion. As I pounded away
at his ass, his eyes stayed locked with mine, confirming his desire.

I saw his toes clench, and his face twitch, and felt his ass clenched
around my cock as he shot his load over his chiseled stomach. I continued
to pound him as he came, watching as his shots matched my thrusts.

I pulled my dick from his tight, hot ass and let down his ankles. I wiped
his cum off his stomach and used it to lube up my still throbbing
cock. Grabbing him by his waist, I flipped him onto his stomach, looking at
his broad, muscled shoulders, and his tight, well-fucked ass. I pushed him
up onto his knees and elbows, leaving his wrists lashed to the headboard
with his own belt. Climbing onto his back, I spread his knees with
mine. Lining my cock up with his hole, I felt the warmth and tightness I
was about to invade.

Again I shoved my entire cock into his tight, hot ass in one thrust,
plowing him forward onto his chest. Lubricated with his cum, I resumed my
fucking, grabbing his shoulders, pulling him back into my thrusts. We began
a steady rhythm, me pounding into him with all my power, and him plowing
back into me with all of his.

I felt Brian tense up and his ass tightened around my cock as he blew his
second load. "Oh, God, yes! Fuck me!" he screamed. That was all I needed;
with one last powerful blow, I shoved my cock into his ass and exploded,
filling him with my cum. "Oh...Fuck...Yeah..." he whimpered.

I reached up and released his arms, and turned him over. "God, I've never
been fucked like that," Brian panted.

"I told you I wanted to rip off your clothes and fuck your brains out," I
said with a smirk.

"And you definitely did, dude. You can fuck my brains out anytime."

"I'll keep that in mind. And I'm keeping this hat to remember you by. I'll
fuck a tow-truck driver every time I wear it, I promise."

"You'd better wear it a lot then."

Comments and constructive criticism are welcomed at
johndoe636769@yahoo.com. Please tell me where you're
from. (City/State/Country, etc.)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm providing this description of Mark Bailey, the "my" character in this
story, for those of you who like to have a visual while you "read." I have
also included a run down on Brian, the tow truck driver, as well. I have
tried to be specific enough to provide an image, but loose enough for you
to take your own license with the description. If you'd rather come up with
your own, or prefer to insert yourself into the story, stop reading
now. The characters and their descriptions are based upon myself and an
actual tow truck driver who did come to jump-start my SUV. Unfortunately,
the encounter ended there; this story is the way it should have happened.

Mark Bailey (Me)
Age: 		22
Height: 	6' 3"
Weight: 	195 lbs
Hair/Eye Color: Brown/Blue
Style:		Modern/Preppy/White Collar
Body type: 	Athletic [DL/LB Build]
Body hair: 	Smooth
He's wearing: 	Blue jeans, black fitted t-shirt, white tennis shoes, no socks,
		red windbreaker (outside)

Brian (Tow Truck Driver)
Age: 		23
Height: 	6' 0"
Weight: 	165 lbs
Hair/Eye Color: Brown/Brown
Style:		Work clothes/Blue collar
Body type: 	Athletic [RB/DB Build]
Body hair: 	Smooth/Shaved
He's wearing: 	Worn carpenter jeans, white button-front work shirt,
		scuffed-up white tennis shoes, blue fitted NY baseball cap,
		black boxer-briefs