Despite The Amnesia Adam Still Likes Cocks

Adam sat in silence on the park bench. What was he going to do? How could he possibly not know who he was or where he came from? If he knew what amnesia was (and he recognised the word as soon as the doctor used it) how could he not know anything about himself? It seemed so strange... to know things you were taught in school, mathematical formulae and historical facts and figures, that Paris was the capital of France and that Margaret Thatcher was the Prime Minister, and yet not know your own name or even if your parents were alive or dead!

"I'm sorry I can't say something which sounds more hopeful," the doctor had said, less than an hour ago as Adam had been discharged from the Infirmary. "I can understand how lost you must feel, but rest assured that most amnesics do recover some of their memory if not all of it."

Adam smiled wryly. "And some never get their memory back at all, correct?"

The doctor nodded. "I'm afraid so, but the percentage is very small. Usually their relatives identify them from the newspapers or through the police, and once the patient is back in their home environment little day to day things keep jogging their memory."

Adam wasn't encouraged. He'd been in the hospital for over a month, ever since the police had found him, dazed and bloody from a head wound, wandering through the streets late one night. The media had latched onto his case, and for several consecutive days his face had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana's.

But nothing had come of it. No-one came forward to claim him, the police drew a complete blank, and, mysteriously, he had no form of identification on him.

After a couple of weeks the media got another more interesting story to keep their readers happy, and Adam's fate was quickly forgotten. Depression set in. Deep, black depression. Luckily he had made at least one new friend in hospital, a young male nurse called Stan who always had a cheery word to brighten him up.

"Come on, sunshine," Stan had said one day as he dispensed his drugs. "Things could be a lot worse."

Adam scowled at him. "Really? How?"

"Well, just look at yourself. You're a good-looking young guy, and at the risk of making you big-headed I'd even say handsome. You've got a good body, even if you have a cracked skull, and I'll bet you won't be on your own for very long even if no-body turns up from your past."

The flattery had made Adam feel a bit better, but not much. He dreaded the day when, inevitably, he would have to leave the hospital and begin to rebuild his life, but where would he start? He had spent many sleepless nights, just lying in his bed and listening to the other patients snoring, wondering about his predicament. He had very little money on him when he was brought in, just a couple of five notes and a bit of change, no idea where he came from and no idea what his profession was. His accent was also bland and unplaceable. At least if he'd had a Brummie accent he would have known he came from Birmingham or the midlands.

It had been Stan who had christened him 'Adam'. After long days in his bed he had felt stale and unclean, and would have killed for a bath. When the doctor arrived to do his rounds Adam asked him if he could have a shower, not a poxy bed bath, something to lift his spirits and make him feel human again. To his surprise the doctor had agreed, as long as there was a nurse on hand in case he needed help. Stan had been the nurse.

There were a couple of small private shower units just off the ward bathroom and Stan followed as Adam made his way to one and stepped inside. Adam would have closed the door and left Stan to wait outside, but Stan held the door open and followed him in.

"Don't I get any privacy?" Adam asked, as he undid his robe and slipped it off.

"Sorry," Stan shrugged. "Doctor's orders. Anyway you haven't got anything I haven't already seen."

Adam hung his bathrobe on a hook and removed his pyjama jacket, hanging that on top of the robe. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Adam untied his pyjama pants and let them fall to the floor so that he was naked. He was aware of Stan's eyes on him as he bent to pick up his pyjama pants, and after the initial flush of embarrassment he was surprised to find being naked while someone watched was strangely exciting.

He was quite proud of his body. He had no idea if he'd ever done anything to get in such good shape (that part of the past was missing), but he certainly liked the way he looked. Long legs, thick and muscular at the thighs, with pert tight buttocks, tapering to a slim waist and flat hard stomach; broad back and powerful shoulders. Maybe he'd at some time played sport professionally? He didn't know.

He felt Stan's eyes burning into him as he turned on the shower and stepped under the hot steaming jet. It felt so good, the water running over his smooth flawless skin, forming rivers which ran into the curves and hollows of his body and seemed to wash away his problems. He felt hot water trickle into the deep cleavage of his buttocks, swilling over his anus and then down the inside of his legs.

He reached for the soap and began to work up a lather. Still aware of Stan watching him, Adam began to rub lather across his chest, caressing the hard round pectoral muscles and tweaking his nipples gently. God that felt good! His hands slid down over his belly, to the dark curly bush of pubic hair in his crotch and he buried his fingers in the wiry hair, sliding his right thumb around the shaft of his large uncut cock and cupping his balls in his palm.

As he smoothed soap along the length of his flaccid cock, his left hand moved around to his behind, parting his hard buttocks, a finger probing for the lips of his anus. Stan shuffled his feet nervously as he watched Adam, but Adam was oblivious to him now. His prick was reacting instinctively, swelling up to its full seven inches, the foreskin peeling back to reveal the throbbing silky purple head.

Stan cleared his throat. "I'll just nip outside for a smoke," he said, as he disappeared through the door. "Be back in a minute."

Adam hardly heard. His finger had now located his anus and was inserted up to the knuckle, gently moving in and out in time to the rhythmic wanking of his right hand. It felt so good, so alive. He couldn't remember ever having wanked himself before. Surely he must have? It seemed so new and exciting that he was shocked by the ferocity of his sudden climax. His knees buckled and he arched his back forward as he came, thick milky cum shooting in powerful spurts from his cock, splattering on the tiles of the shower floor and being washed away by the cascading water.

By the time Stan reappeared Adam had finished his shower and was standing in the cubicle towelling off, his body red from the hot water and the rubbing.

"So how do I look?" he asked, tossing his thick blonde hair back from his forehead, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Like Adam in the Garden of Eden," Stan grinned, admiring the young man's naked form.

And that was how he got his new name. Everyone, doctors and nurses alike, thought it seemed somehow appropriate, as though no other name would have fitted the good-looking mystery man quite as well. Even Adam himself took to it, but, after all, he had nothing better.

Eventually the day he'd been dreading arrived, and he was unceremoniously discharged from hospital, thrown out into the real world to stand or fall on his own merits. He'd drifted around the town aimlessly for a while, heading no-where in particular, until he had found himself in the park, sitting here on the hard bench watching the ducks.

"I thought it was you," a familiar voice said. He glanced to his left to find himself gazing at Stan's smiling face. "What are you doing here? Taken a fancy to ducks, have you?"

"Where else have I to go?" Adam asked, without self-pity.

"Still no lodgings, huh?" Stan sighed, seating himself next to Adam on the bench. "What about that church hostel thing the hospital social worker told you about?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I'd just rather not go there."

Stan stood up. "Then there's only one other alternative. You'll have to kip on my couch for a few nights until you get fixed up."

"Won't your family mind?"

Stan shook his head. "I live alone. I have a small flat, nothing fancy, but big enough for me." He smiled again, and Adam realised for the first time what a pleasing smile Stan had. "You're quite welcome to the couch, if you want it."

Adam smiled back. "Thanks."

Stan's flat was nicer than he'd let on. The lounge carpet was thick and soft, and the decor was more tasteful than Adam would have expected from his new friend. The couch was a large 3-seater job, easily long enough to accommodate Adam's six foot frame.

Stan spent the rest of the afternoon settling his guest in, fussing over the young guy like a mother hen. His next shift at the hospital wasn't until six the next morning, so they had plenty of opportunity to talk, something they had never really been able to do on the ward. Stan was warm and friendly, and, Adam noticed, quite attractive in a bland, unexciting kind of way. He had dark curly hair and equally dark eyes, and his complexion was duskily smooth.

The day passed quickly. In the evening Stan phoned for a pizza, which they put away along with a bottle and a half of sweet white wine. Adam couldn't ever remember having had wine before, but he took an instant liking to it and downed so much of the stuff that he became a bit merry.

"Come on, mate," Stan muttered at just after midnight. "I think it's time we both turned in. You've only just got out of hospital, and I have to be up at the crack of dawn."

He brought a large bundle of sheets and a couple of pillows from the bedroom and expertly made up Adam's bed on the couch. "There you go," he said. "I've a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, the red one's mine, so help yourself." Adam nodded unsteadily. The wine had really gone to his head. "I'll say goodnight then," Stan said. "If you need anything, just shout, okay?"

"Okay," Adam replied, "'night!"

Stan headed for the bedroom, glancing back just once to catch sight of Adam wrestling with one of his socks. Then he closed the door, undressed quickly, and slipped naked into his bed. It was late and it had been a long day, and to say Stan was tired was an understatement. He fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the pillow.

He awoke again with a start after what seemed just seconds. The luminous clock on the bedside cabinet read 3.35 am. Something had broken his sleep, some kind of noise loud enough to disturb him. Stan threw back the covers and clambered out of bed, creeping across the room and gingerly opening the door.

The lounge was in darkness save for the shaft of moonlight which was shining in through the large window. Standing in front of the window, one hand resting on the pane and his head leaned on the back of his hand, was Adam. He was naked, the moonlight causing his skin to glow an eerie silver, the deep black of the shadows accentuating every curve and hollow of his muscular torso. He looked the epitome of sorrow.

Stan opened the door wider and quietly crossed the lounge to where his friend was standing. He placed his right hand on Adam's shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked tenderly.

Without looking up Adam spoke. "I just feel so lonely," he said.

Stan squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of affection. "You don't have to be lonely," he said. "I'm here."

Adam looked up, and in the moonlight Stan thought he saw the glint of an odd tear. "Hold me," Adam said, turning towards Stan and slipping his strong arms around Stan's waist.

It was at that moment that Stan became aware of his own nudity. Their bodies touched, Adam's large muscular thigh brushing against Stan's leg. Like a child, Adam laid his head on Stan's shoulder, nuzzling his face against the nurse's neck. His breath was warm and moist.

Stan pulled him closer, until their stomachs lay flat together. He could feel Adam's hard nipples against his chest, and lower, much lower, he could feel the hot softness of Adam's large and magnificent cock pressing into his own pubic bush. As he held the guy, he wondered if Adam even knew or cared that he was getting an erection, his prick throbbing and pushing against the soft fluttery skin of Adam's belly.

Stan let his hand slide slowly down Adam's back, his fingers gliding over the smooth flesh. His first finger traced a line along the furrow caused by Adam's spine, and Adam flinched just a shade, his hips jutting forward so that their cocks rubbed together. Stan allowed his hand to continue on its downward path until it came to rest lightly on Adam's tight hard buttocks.

Pressed together, Stan could feel that Adam was beginning to respond. The huge prick was growing bigger, swelling to its full size, throbbing against Stan's thigh. Encouraged, Stan slid his hand into the cleavage of Adam's buttocks, his fingers exploring, searching, then finding the rough tight lips of Adam's anus, which he stroked lovingly. For Adam it was an experience he had never known the like of. The warmth of another human body next to his, the pure pleasure of being touched as intimately as Stan was touching him at that moment. Somewhere, deep in his mind, he was vaguely aware that what they were doing was "not right" to the majority of people, but frankly he did not give a fuck.

Stan was caressing his buttocks, taking care to rub his anus gently. Adam's prick was now fully erect, as was his lover's, two thick hard rods rubbing against each other. Adam felt Stan let go of his embrace slightly, then felt the warm wetness of Stan's mouth on his smooth, hairless chest, licking the nipples, nipping them lightly with his teeth. Stan's tongue traced a silvery line of saliva down Adam's body, taking a slight pause while he licked at the hollow of his navel, then continuing on it's path towards the most sensitive of regions. Adam gasped as Stan kissed the tip of his dick, then closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to flow over him as Stan took his full seven inches into his mouth.

He was a master of cock-sucking, his tongue working marvels which drove Adam into fits of ecstasy. Stan ran his hot tongue around the swollen silky glans, curling it behind the fleshed back rim of Adam's foreskin, exploring the dark little piss-hole which was already drooling salty pre-cum which mingled with Stan's saliva. Stan took the hard cock deep into his throat, pulling on Adam's buttocks and pushing his face deep into the boy's pubic hair. The wrinkled sac of Adam's scrotum nestled in the cleft of Stan's chin, and he became aware of a change in it's form, a tightening, the flesh drawing in to enclose the large heavy balls, and he knew Adam's climax was near.

Stan worked harder, drawing the long shaft of his lover's prick almost out of his mouth completely, then closing down on it quickly, tickling the thick veined underside with his tongue. The boy was now breathing heavily, almost gasping, until, with a groan that the whole town must have heard, Adam came. Spunk, thick and warm and salty, began to spurt from the head of his dick, filling Stan's mouth and sliding down the back of his throat in a river of cum. Adam grabbed Stan's hair and rammed his cock into his mouth with force, almost causing Stan to gag and choke. And then the climax was over. Adam dropped to his knees in front of Stan, exhausted, shattered by what had taken place. He sagged forward, into Stan's arms. Stan's erection stood up almost vertically from the forest of curls at his crotch.

"Why did you do that?" Adam gasped, genuinely shocked by the ferocity of their passion.

Stan smiled. "Because I wanted to. I've wanted to make love to you ever since that day in the shower." Stan leaned forward and kissed Adam on the lips. He was pleased to feel the pressure as Adam kissed back. "Stay here with me," Stan said. "Let me take care of you, at least for a while."

Adam smiled. "At least for tonight," he said, slipping his hand between Stan's hairy thighs and caressing his erect prick. "What you just did was incredible... I don't think anyone's ever done that to me before. I can't remember, anyway, so I guess it's the same thing."

He began to pull slowly on Stan's cock, teasing the foreskin back over the wet head then allowing it to retract again. "Don't be angry, but I don't know if I could do the same to you... not yet, at least, but maybe soon..."

Stan smiled. "That's okay," he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of Adam's strong grip as he wanked him slowly. "Just keep doing what you're doing and I'll be happy enough."

Stan didn't take long to come. Like Adam he was highly excited, and it was mere moments before his cock exploded in a fountain of spunk, covering Adam's hand and dripping in thick goblets onto the carpet. Then they lay together, in each other's arms on the couch in the moonlight.

"Stay with me," Stan repeated. "Stay here forever. Put the past behind you. We can be happy, I know it."

Adam sighed. "I'll stay for a while, but I have to know who I am, where I come from." He kissed Stan tenderly. "I'll stay until I can please you just like you've pleased me, but then I have to go."

Stan remained silent. Eventually they slept, and before long morning had come with a vengeance. Stan left Adam asleep on the couch as he washed, dressed and got his things together ready for his shift at the hospital. Taking one last lingering look at the blonde Adonis on the couch, he let himself out of the flat and went to work.

Two hours later Adam sat at the kitchen table, a blanket wrapped round him, and studied the contents of the battered leather wallet which belonged to him. Eleven pounds and seventy-three pence, a dogeared bus ticket, and a crumpled piece of paper on which was written a number... a phone number! Adam's heart leaped.

Why hadn't the police or hospital staff noticed this? It seemed so obvious. He picked up the paper and walked across to Stan's phone, lifted the receiver and dialled the number. Nothing. Only the constant tone that told him the number was unobtainable.

Replacing the receiver, he picked up the telephone directory, turned to the front and started searching. After a few seconds he found it... 091, the area code for Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. At last he had a starting point. It was not much to work from, but it was a start!

He sat for a long time, staring at the phone number, wondering and fantasizing about it. He did some serious thinking that day, and he made up his mind. He would stay with Stan for as long as he had agreed to, but no longer. He had to find out the truth about himself, he had to. He really had no alternative.

Adam awoke suddenly from a dreamless sleep. The room was in darkness and a total, overwhelming silence which was broken only by the distant rumble of traffic on the ring-road a few streets away. He lay there for a while, eyes closed, listening to the night sounds and the deep rhythmic breathing of the man next to him.

At some point in the night Stan had rolled over and was now facing away from him. Adam snuggled close to his sleeping lover, slipping his arm round Stan's waist and pressing himself up tight against Stan's back. He could feel the smooth warmth of Stan's bare skin against his chest and stomach, and the clammy warmth of Stan's buttocks against his already erect penis. Adam adjusted his position slightly so that his cock was nestled in the cleavage of Stan's arse. God, it felt so good! Stan had taught him a lot in the two and a half weeks he'd been staying with him, and had shown him just how pleasant it was to be close to someone, both in a physical and an emotional sense.

Adam ran his hand lightly over Stan's stomach, and playfully fingered his navel. Stan was quite hairy, almost the complete opposite of Adam. His legs and belly were covered by a liberal mat of dark hair, although his chest was bare save for around the nipples. Adam had very little hair on his muscular frame. His pubic bush was quite thick and the hair in his armpits, but apart from that his body was smooth, with just the finest down covering his long legs. Stan had once commented that Adam had the body of a teenage athlete, hard and muscular yet supple and youthful. It was difficult to put an age to him. Stan, who was almost 32, said he would estimate Adam's age at between 18 and 22, but there was no way of telling.

Nuzzling his face against the back of Stan's neck, Adam kissed his shoulder. He moved his hand lower over Stan's stomach, down into his crotch. Taking Stan's limp cock in his hand, Adam caressed it gently, peeling back the ample foreskin and rubbing the head between his finger and thumb. Stan moaned in his sleep.

Adam smiled to himself as he felt Stan's cock react to the stimulation, the shaft swelling and growing, blood flowing rapidly, stiffening it to its full six and a half inches. Stan moaned again, drifting slowly towards full consciousness as Adam played lovingly with his dick.

Stan rolled onto his back, and as he did Adam threw back the sheets, leaving them both naked in the darkness. Adam knelt at Stan's side and lowered his head to Stan's groin. He couldn't see his lover's prick in the dark of the bedroom, but he could feel the radiated warmth of Stan's crotch on his face and smell the heady, musky aroma of his erection. Adam opened his lips, stuck out his tongue and licked the bulbous head of Stan's penis. Since the first night he'd stayed with Stan, the night when Stan had blown his mind by blowing his cock, Adam had developed a liking for the taste of cock, for the feel of it in his mouth, and the strong smell of maleness you got when your face was pressed into someone's pubic bush.

Adam ran his tongue along the thick vein on the underside of Stan's tool, down as far as his balls and then back up to the silky glans. As he did, he slid his hand between Stan's thighs and under his buttocks, feeling for Stan's anus and slipping his finger in as far as the knuckle. Stan moaned as Adam finger fucked him, in and out, deeper and deeper. Adam opened his mouth and took Stan's prick between his lips, tasting the salty dew of pre-cum which glistened at the tip. He drew his mouth along the length of Stan's cock, his tongue brushing the shaft as Stan arched his back off the bed and thrust his organ deeper in Adam's mouth.

As he ate Stan's cock, Adam reached down between his own legs, grasping his already wet penis and wanking himself quickly. He knew he was near to climax. Releasing Stan's cock from his mouth, Adam swung around, gently took hold of Stan's head and pressed his prick onto Stan's lips. Stan opened his mouth, but wasn't quite in time. Thick milky spunk spurted from Adam's swollen dick onto Stan's face, running over his lips and dribbling down his chin. Stan's tongue flicked out as he tried to lick a few tasty gobbets of cum from his lips, but Adam's thrusting cock was in full spout, jet after jet of semen shooting into his face. Stan had never known any guy cum as much as Adam did. Eventually his orgasm subsided, and he eased back, putting his face next to Stan's and licking his own cum off.

When Adam had cleared away the last drop of his spunk from Stan's chin he resumed his original position and once more gobbled Stan's cock, quicker this time, with added urgency. His own cock was wilting quickly, and he was eager to snuggle up next to Stan in that warm wonderful feeling which follows a good fuck. He sucked on the thick prick in his mouth, willing it to shoot. And within moments it did, pumping spunk down the back of Adam's throat in one powerful constant jet. Adam swallowed the cum, savouring the saltiness of it, sucking Stan's cock until every drop was extracted.

Later they lay in each other's arms, Stan in a doze while Adam stared up at the ceiling. The bedroom was getting lighter as dawn approached, and he knew that soon Stan would get up and dressed and head off to the hospital. That was when he would make his move. It wasn't going to be easy to leave Stan, in fact it would be hard to leave the loving safety he'd known for the last couple of weeks, but he had to do it. He'd never rest until he found out the truth about himself, and he couldn't do that stuck here in Brighton. He had to go to NewcastleUpon-Tyne. The phone number written on the crumpled piece of paper in his wallet must have meant something at some time; it was just a case of finding out what.

By 10.00 am Adam was standing at the side of the A23 holding a piece of card on which he'd written "London" in thick black letters. He had no alternative but to hitch-hike. With 11.73 in his pocket he had to save money wherever he could. No doubt Stan would have given him some cash if he'd asked, but pride wouldn't allow him to. And besides, he knew that leaving would have been so much harder if Stan had been home. That was why he'd waited until Stan was at work before sneaking out. He'd left him a letter on the kitchen table, in which he tried to explain everything, how he felt and why he'd decided to go, but even so he knew Stan would be a little hurt.

Adam was still thinking about Stan when a large articulated lorry squealed to a halt a couple of hundred yards from where he was standing. Picking up the ruck-sack containing his few meagre possessions, Adam walked down to where the truck waited, engine throbbing, the passenger door slightly ajar.

"Going anywhere near London?" he asked the driver as he bobbed his head inside the cab.

The guy behind the wheel was about 40, a large fellow, slightly over-weight but not grossly fat. His hair was in dire need of cutting and hung in greasy strands over his forehead.

"Sure, son," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Hop in. I'll take you all the way."

There was something about the guy which made Adam nervous, but he was desperate for the ride so, pushing his doubts to the back of his mind, he clambered into the cab and pulled the door closed. The truck began to move almost before he was in, as though the driver feared he might change his mind.

"My name's Billy," the driver said. "What's yours?"

"Adam," Adam replied.

The guy was wearing jeans and a dirty white T-shirt, and Adam couldn't help noticing that Billy's fly was undone. "Fuckin' hot today, ain't it?" Billy muttered, scratching his crotch absent-mindedly.

Adam grunted and half-smiled. He didn't like the guy, but didn't want to lose his lift, so he decided to play it cool and keep the conversation down if at all possible. They rode on for the best part of half an hour, Billy chattering away, almost every other word being "fuck" or some derivation. Adam kept quiet and just smiled occasionally.

At a point in the road just before the A23 grew up and became the M23, Billy spun the wheel and turned the truck into a lay-by, cutting the engine and turning towards his passenger.

"Well?" he asked.

Adam frowned. "Well, what?"

Billy looked annoyed. "Well, aren't you gonna pay for the fuckin' ride?"

"I'm sorry," Adam shrugged, "but I've no money. That's why I was hitching in the first place."

"Fuckin' 'ell," Billy spat. "I don't want fuckin' money, arsehole. I meant pay for the ride the usual fuckin' way"

"What way's that?" Adam asked, although he already had a good idea.

Billy shot him a look which plainly showed he thought Adam was deliberately stalling, then, without a word, he slid his hand across Adam's muscular thigh and squeezed the bulge in his crotch. "Feels good," Billy said, grinning. "Got a big dick, have you?"

Adam attempted a smile, but failed. "I never had any complaints," he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. Billy removed his hand from Adam's crotch and leered knowingly.

"Why don't we get up in the sleeping quarters back there?" Billy said, with a nod to indicate a section of the cab behind the seats which was separated by a curtain. "You can show me what a big boy you are, and then we can work out how you're going to pay me for giving you a lift."

Adam looked at Billy carefully. He was hardly Tom Cruise, in fact he looked more like Danny de Vito, except that he must have been well over six foot tall and probably weighed in at around 16 stone. Had he any choice in the matter Adam would never have chosen Billy as a sexual partner, but the way things were shaping up Adam didn't have any choice.

"Okay," Adam said, attempting to feign innocence. "As long as you understand that I've never done anything like this before."

Billy's grin widened, which made Adam's stomach churn for some inexplicable reason. "That's okay be me," he said. "A nice fuckin' virgin lad. Ain't that a fuckin' treat?"

Billy cut the engine and parted the curtains behind the seats. The sleeping quarters were just as Adam would have imagined them: one long bunk spread on which were sheets that had turned cream with age, a couple of pillows, and a tiny unit on which Billy had placed a transistor radio and a couple of small plastic boxes containing various sorts of food.

But it was the walls of the cab which surprised Adam most. He assumed that most macho lorry drivers would have a few lurid pin-ups around for the purpose of masturbatory aids on long nights away from home, but Billy's cab was literally plastered from wall to wall. Full frontals of busty girls, some blonde, some brunette, a few with flaming red hair, some acting coy, some brazenly fingering themselves, large tits, small tits, and every size in between.

Strange, Adam thought, as he scrambled up onto the bunk. Why should Billy choose to cover his walls with female nudes, and yet pick up guys on the road for sex? To keep up the macho image, perhaps?

Billy followed Adam into the sleeping quarters and pulled the curtains closed behind him. Adam noticed that he was already getting a hard-on; his cock was pushing against his underpants which in turn were bulging out through his open fly, making him look ludicrously like a deformed rhinoceros. Adam resisted the temptation to laugh.

"I must say I do like the fuckin' way you fill out those jeans," Billy said, sitting on the edge of the bunk and running his hand over Adam's thigh. His other hand was playing with the "rhino horn" in his crotch. Adam lay on his back, arms at his side, feeling a bit silly and wondering what he should do.

"Let's see what you've got in there," Billy muttered, reaching for the zip on Adam's jeans and tugging it roughly.

Adam's jeans were tight, making it a little difficult for Billy to open them as quickly as he would have liked, but after a certain amount of fumbling and quite a lot of cursing, he managed to peel the denims down Adam's muscular thighs, quickly followed by the small white cotton briefs Stan had bought for him one day while they were shopping.

Adam lay there motionless, his jeans down around his knees and his T-shirt shoved up around his chest, while Billy ogled his genitals. "Oh, fuckin' 'ell, son," he muttered, gazing in wonder at Adam's limp uncut cock. "That's fuckin' lovely."

Billy reached out and grasped Adam's thick warm prick, peeling the foreskin back to reveal the silky pink head. Billy squeezed his fist around the limp shaft, causing Adam to grimace and gasp with pain. As though spurred on by the expression of hurt on Adam's face, he released the boy's penis and slid his hand down around his scrotum, feeling Adam's large heavy balls through the wrinkly skin with his finger and thumb.

"Bet them balls hold a lot of fuckin' spunk, eh?" he grinned sleazily. Then, without warning, he squeezed Adam's left testicle hard.

Adam cried out with pain and shock. "Shit! What're you doing?" he gasped.

"Don't be such a fuckin' baby," Billy spat with disgust. "I didn't hurt you that much!"

Adam was angry. "Oh, no?" he said, starting to get up. "Well you aren't going to get a second chance. I'm not into that kind of stuff."

He bent forward to pull up his jeans, taking his eyes off Billy for just the briefest moment. And at that precise moment Billy let fly with a right hook with caught Adam square on the chin and knocked him back onto the bunk. Then he slammed his massive fist into Adam's face, bursting his lip and loosening a tooth. Dazed, Adam sank onto his back again, tasting blood in his mouth, his mind swimming.

"No little fucker is gonna get away without payin' his dues," Billy said, grabbing Adam roughly and pulling him half off the bunk. He was amazingly strong.

Adam felt himself being half-lifted, half-turned until he was lying on his stomach on the bunk, his legs hanging off the end and his bare behind up in the air. He knew what was happening, and in his daze tried to get up again. Billy grabbed a handful of blonde hair, and smashed Adam's head into the metal wall at the back of the bunk.

Billy pinned Adam down, holding his arms by the wrists behind his back so that he couldn't move, and, with his free hand, he unfastened his own jeans and pushed them down. His dirty white underpants bulged obscenely, and it was perhaps a good thing that Adam couldn't see what he was about to feel. Like the rest of him, Billy's cock was massive, fully eight inches when erect, as it was as he pushed his Y-fronts down and released it from it's restriction. He stroked it lovingly, nuzzling the fat dick-head up against the warm cleavage of Adam's arse.

When he'd been staying with Stan they'd talked about anal sex, but Adam hadn't been quite ready. His sexual awareness was building slowly, and they'd spent their time making love orally. Billy obviously was not prepared for anything but a good hard fuck, and as he held the boy down he thrust with his hips, Adam's anus resisting at first, then yielding to the terrific pressure from Billy's huge dick. The anus lips gave way and Billy's swollen cock slipped in a fraction. Adam let out a cry of pain and gritted his teeth. Undaunted, the lorry driver thrust again, slamming his cock deeper, then again, deeper still. Adam felt like his arse was on fire. Hot burning pain shot through his guts and made the pain from his busted lip seem insignificant.

Billy's cock filled Adam, and under different circumstances could have been quite pleasant. But Billy was vicious in his love-making, ramming his prick up the boy without heed to the pain he was causing, intent only on his own gratification. He thrust and thrust, cock throbbing and eager, his fat hairy balls crashing against Adam's upper thighs. How long it went on Adam was unaware. Mercifully his mind shut off, leaving Billy to grunt and thrust to his heart's content.

When Billy came it was explosive. His cock burst inside Adam in a fountain of cum, thick and milky and hot, and as he climaxed Billy slapped Adam's buttocks like a rider would to a horse. Still he continued the fuck Adam, even as his dick started to wilt and soften, until, at last, he could no longer keep it in and had to withdraw.

"Now get yourself together and fuck off outta my cab!" he shouted, pulling up his jeans and dirty underpants. Adam was only barely conscious.

"I said fuck off outta my cab," Billy repeated when Adam didn't move.

Roughly, he grabbed at Adam's jeans and briefs and yanked them up, not bothering to fasten them. Then he man-handled him to the front of the cab, opened the passenger door and pushed the dazed kid out. Adam let with a sickening thud on the asphalt of the lay-by.

Adam lay there for a while, eyes closed and head spinning. He heard the sound of the lorry's engine starting up, then got a blast of fumes as Billy pulled back into the stream of traffic on the road. Aware of his condition, Adam somehow fought to stand up and managed to stagger to the shelter of the trees at the roadside, his ruck-sack in hand. The shade of the trees was cool in the hot midday June sun. Adam collapsed in a heap at the foot of a large oak, and at last his mind gave up the ghost. He drifted off into unconsciousness...

Greg watched the birds flutter and flap as he approached, tractor engine chugging away as he turned the soil in the big field. To his left the A23 ran like a sleek black river, just visible through the thick tangle of trees and bushes.

Several times as he ploughed back and forth he thought he saw something white in the greenery, but just as quickly it was hidden by the foliage again so he shrugged it off. But the closer he got to the road, the more he was convinced there was something... or someone... in the bushes.

"Probably that tramp," he muttered. "Dirty old bugger!"

As he passed, he stopped the tractor, put the gears into neutral and climbed down. The bushes were thick, but he was certain there was someone there. He could definitely see something white, some clothing, but whoever was wearing it seemed to be lying down. It must be the tramp.

"Come outta there," he called from a safe distance. "I know you're hiding."

No reply. "Come on, I ain't got all day to mess around with the likes of you," he yelled, glancing at his watch. It was late afternoon, and already the sun had begun to dip down in the deep cloudless blue of the western sky. When no response came Greg gingerly edged forward, picking up a length of branch which had broken off and using it to part the bushes. The contrast between the bright sunlight and the dim shade made it hard for Greg to see, but he could just make out a vague figure lying face down on the ground. The guy wasn't moving, and, judging from the whiteness of the T-shirt, it certainly wasn't Old Alf, the tramp.

"Hello?" Greg asked, not really expecting a reply. "Are you alright?"

Still no answer. Casting caution to the wind, Greg stepped forward, pushing the bushes aside with his body, and clambered into the shadows. The figure was a young guy, tall and blonde, and from the way he was lying Greg could just see his handsome face. There was blood on his mouth and chin, and angry red bruises on his cheek and forehead. The guy had obviously been beaten up.

Greg knelt down beside the prone body, and as he did he noticed for the first time that the boy's jeans were open. With a flush of excitement (which made him feel slightly guilty because of the state of the guy) he saw that the denim was loose and baggy across the boy's behind which was only covered by a skimpy pair of white briefs emphasising the upper half of his firm round buttocks. Greg tried not to think about that.

Gently he turned the boy over onto his back, once again glancing down towards the lower half of his torso. The boy's fly gaped wide, and as he peered Greg could just make out the thick tufts of wiry pubic hair inside. Feeling like a voyeur, and embarrassed in case the boy woke up, Greg quickly zipped up the young man's fly and lifted him into a sitting position, supported against Greg's body.

The boy's eyes opened, startlingly blue and clear. "Where am I?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"I found you here in the bushes," Greg said, genuinely concerned. "Did someone beat you up?"

Suddenly it came back to Adam: the lift with the lorry driver, the assault, the feeling of helplessness and fear. He made an attempt to stand up and almost collapsed. "I've got to go," he said, tasting blood in his mouth. "I've got to find somewhere to clean up."

"You're in no fit state to go anywhere on your own like that," Greg said, catching him as he swayed. "I know a place where you can rest and wash up. It ain't much, but it's quiet and you can stay until you feel better."

Greg helped the boy towards the tractor in the field, its engine still ticking over noisily. "My name's Greg by the way, what's yours?"

"My name's Adam."

Twenty minutes later Greg stopped the tractor outside a large rambling wooden building. It looked like an over-sized shed, and Adam knew instinctively that it certainly wasn't used on a daily basis, the slightly run-down appearance and missing boards told him that much.

"What is this place?" he asked as Greg helped him down.

"It used to be where the farmer stored the grain and animal feed over winter," Greg muttered, pushing open a creaky wooden door. "But now he's got a new one nearer the farm-house, so it don't get used at all now. But it's dry, and there's water from a stand-pipe, so I reckon it'd do for you to rest up a bit until you feel like moving on." They stepped through the door into a small 'hut' built onto the side of the huge building. Surprisingly, it wasn't as dirty or decrepit as Adam expected. There was a stand-pipe in one corner with an empty aluminium bucket beneath it, several cupboards which reminded Adam of a garden shed, a few big brown jackets hanging up which, presumably, the workers wore, and in the far corner Adam noticed a small fold-away bed.

"Sit down on the bed," Greg said, nodding towards the corner.

Adam shook his head. "Not until I've cleaned up a bit." He regarded Greg shrewdly. "Did you fasten my jeans?"

Greg blushed slightly. "Er.. yes."

Adam lowered his eyes. "Thanks," he said, lamely. There was a moment of mutual embarrassment as they regarded each other carefully, Adam wondering just how much Greg had seen and Greg wondering how much Adam had suffered.

After a moment Greg looked out through the dirty windows of the hut at the lowering sun. "I have to get back with the tractor," he said. "Stay here for a while. I'll come back later with some food and we can talk. There's a couple of clean cloths you can use as towels if you want to wash."

"Okay," Adam said, as Greg disappeared out of the door.

Outside, Greg was just about to climb up onto the tractor when he realised he hadn't mentioned the oil lamp to Adam. It might well be after sunset when he returned, and he didn't want to leave the guy sitting in the dark when there was adequate lighting.

Turning back, he threw open the door of the hut and took a step inside. Adam was just stepping out of his jeans, the white cotton of his briefs stretched tight across his perfect buttocks. He looked round as Greg re-entered, but he made no attempt to cover himself.

"I just wanted to say that there's an oil lamp and some matches in that first cupboard there," he said, pointing. "It might be dark when I get back."

"Right," Adam smiled. "Thanks."

Greg closed the door, pausing for just a moment then peeking through the murky glass of the hut's small window. As he watched, Adam slipped his briefs down his muscular legs, exposing his behind in all its magnificent glory. Greg's heart thumped in his chest, and between his legs he felt the familiar twitching of his cock. Rubbing his crotch gently, Greg clambered back up on the tractor and drove off.

He returned at eight-thirty that night. The sun was just dipping over the far horizon, turning the sky a deep purple red. As he walked he thought about the sight of Adam, half-naked through the hut's window. If he was lucky....

As he opened the door Adam was seated on the fold-away bed, legs crossed at the ankles as he leaned back against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye Greg noticed a pair of briefs, still wet, hanging on one of the coat-hooks.

"Hi," he said, handing Adam a plastic container. "I brought you some food."

Adam took it gratefully, wolfing down the sandwiches and apples the container held. As Adam ate they chatted, or at least Greg chatted and Adam listened. It seemed to Adam that Greg knew just what he'd been through, almost as if there was some kind of telepathic link between them. As though Greg had been waiting for a long time for someone like Adam.

"You know," Adam said, finishing off his apple. " I wasn't just beaten up."

Greg looked down at the floor. "I'd assumed more than that happened because of the way your jeans were unfastened."

Adam started to talk, and this time it was Greg who stayed silent. Adam told him everything, from the early days in hospital, about Stan, and about the assault. Greg looked at him with soft brown eyes, his innocent young face filled with sympathy, and Adam knew they were kindred spirits.

"I used to have a friend like Stan," Greg said, brushing his long curly dark hair back from his forehead. "But he moved overseas, Germany I think."

"Stan was good to me," Adam murmured, absent-mindedly stroking his own leg. "So gentle."

"You know, it doesn't have to hurt," Greg said, smiling tenderly. "It can be quite exciting."

Adam gazed into his eyes. "Show me."

Greg stood up and with one swift fluid movement raised his sweatshirt up over his head and off. In the rapidly fading light, Adam saw that Greg's body was as smooth and hairless as his own, his large pink nipples standing out erect from his unblemished chest. Quickly, Greg kicked off his sneakers and peeled the zip of his jeans down, hesitating for just a moment before pushing his baggy pale blue jeans down around his ankles to reveal a small pair of light blue pants whose pouch strained to contain his throbbing manhood and Adam smelt the musky man-smell he had savoured so much from Stan. He peeled them slowly down, stepped out of them, and stood before Adam naked. His large semi erect cock standing out from his crotch obscenely. Naked, he looked younger than his years.

Adam began to undress, removing his T-shirt as Greg stepped forward and put his hands on Adam's thighs. The denim of Adam's jeans stretched tight across his powerful legs, and Greg moved his hands slowly upwards, to his crotch, as he felt for the zipper and eased it down, releasing Adam's already swelling penis. He pulled at Adam's jeans, drawing them down his legs and off over his bare feet. Then, casting them to one side, Greg dropped to his knees in front of where Adam sat on the camp bed and lowered his lips to Adam's stomach. Greg kissed the soft, ticklish flesh of his underbelly, then, surprising Adam, he brought his mouth upwards towards Adam's chest, his warm wet tongue eager to search out Adam's nipples, finding them, licking and teasing them.

Adam stroked Greg's hair, raising the boy's head up so their faces were level enough to kiss. Adam pulled Greg to him, pressing his mouth against Greg's soft full lips. Their tongues danced together wildly, saliva mingling, and as they kissed Adam ran his hand down Greg's chest and belly and into his groin. He grasped his cock, pulling on the thick hard shaft as he pressed his lips harder against Greg's.

Encouraging Greg to stand up, Adam ran his tongue down the length of Greg's young body, down into the thick forest of curls between his legs, licking at the long warm shaft of Greg's prick, tasting the juices that oozed wetly at the tip. He parted his lips and took the whole of Greg's erection in his mouth, stroking its underside with his tongue, smelling the muskiness of the boy's crotch.

Greg placed his hands against Adam's head and, easing his hips back and forth, began to slide his dick in and out of Adam's mouth, fucking his face eagerly. Adam relished the taste of the hot hard cock, the faint aroma of urine, the saltiness of pre-cum. He had learned from his experiences with Stan that he had only one preference sexually; the warm body of another male next to his.

Drawing his prick out of Adam's mouth, Greg eased him back onto the bed, and kneeling between his legs, lowered his face to Adam's crotch. He licked at Adam's dick, wetting the thick hard shaft, paying particular attention to the silky cock-head. Saliva ran down the shaft into Adam's pubic bush.

Straddling Adam, Greg held Adam's dick vertical so that the head was nuzzled against the lips of his anus, and, closing his eyes, he gently lowered his body, impaling himself on Adam's massive organ. He felt the swollen head penetrate him, then a little of the thick shaft, then more. The feeling of being filled, like wanting to go to the bathroom yet somehow excitingly different, overcame him. He was full of Adam's cock... they were united.

He began to ride him like a horse, up and down, harder and harder, his bare buttocks crashing against Adam's hips as he bounced around. Adam groaned out loud, gasping with unknown pleasure at the sensation of Greg's tight arsehole around his tool. Greg's dick swung around crazily as they fucked, and Adam grabbed it, pulling the shaft hard which was wet with pre-cum, wanking it as Greg blindly rose up and down on his cock.

They came at almost the same second, Greg's dick spewing a thick jet of warm spunk onto Adam's belly as Adam's cock erupted inside Greg's anus, each of them wild with passion, dicks spurting, cum pumping out endlessly. When their orgasms faded, Greg climbed off Adam, and sank next to him on the camp bed. They kissed, then slept awhile.

They made love again later, by the glow of the oil lamp, two naked young lovers unashamed of their sexuality. At a little before midnight, Greg got up and pulled on his clothes, Adam watching sadly.

"Do you have to go?" he asked. "Can't you stay all night?"

Greg smiled and stuck his head into his sweatshirt. "I told you, I live with my parents. They'd be worried if I didn't go home."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Greg shrugged. "I can only come round after work, say about seven o'clock."

Adam shook his head. "I have to get to Newcastle," he said. "I'm gonna have to make an early start, so I'll most likely be gone when you finish work."

Greg leaned forward and kissed him. "Then I'll say 'bye now. Take care." Adam watched him slip out of the door, pausing a second to glance back just for a moment. Then he was gone.

Adam spent the night sleeping fitfully, dreaming bad dreams about rape and pain and violence. When the morning came he dressed quickly and left, making his way through the fields quickly until at last he reached the A23.

It wasn't long before a car stopped, a large blue Granada which screeched to a halt a little along the road from him. At first he wasn't sure he was being picked up, but when the passenger door flew open he knew he'd struck lucky. He ran down the hard shoulder and leaped into the plush interior.

The driver was about 45, but youngish looking with silver-grey hair and a warm smile, and suddenly Adam knew he was going to enjoy this lift...

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written by anonymous