The Married Rat - 13. Chapter 13

15

From Alan: I accidentally drove into an isolated dead end last night, way out Center Point Road, and immediately thought of you standing naked there, caught in my car's headlights.

From Ruiz: That’s erotic.

From Alan: Yeah, but dangerous. I drove there again this afternoon, in daylight, to try to figure out exactly where I was. There’s a small, windowless trailer, about the size of a small horse trailer, parked in the dead end, and I think someone’s living in it.

From Ruiz: An element of threat or menace can be likewise erotic.

What’s the address, so I can see it via Google.

From Alan: There’s no address because there are no buildings for about a half mile. I don’t even know the street name. I’ll have to check.

From Ruiz: Sounds good.

From Alan: It doesn’t seem to have a name. There are no signs. It’s just the far end – northeast end – of a delivery road in the industrial park. Diagonally northeast of 380.

From Ruiz: Got it. What were you doing there?

From Alan: Picking up a forklift that was loaned to the school.

From Ruiz: As I come to consciousness, the first sound I become aware of is the sound of seams in the road as the tires pass over them. The sound syncs with the slight bump I feel underneath my entire body as I lay flat on my back on the hard plastic floor in the back of the truck.

From Alan: I've got this naked guy in the back of my pickup with a tarp stretched over him. I bungee corded his wrists together, but he can probably get out of that when he wakes up. The only reason I got him naked in the truck was I found him passed out halfway into what I'm guessing is his SUV. If I'd been a good guy, I'd've helped him into his front seat, safely seat belted him in, closed the door, and let him sleep it off till morning. But I'm an asshole and a little drunk myself, and besides, he was in a dark corner of the parking lot where no one could see us. So I stripped him, tossed his clothes, keys, and any IDs into his car, locked that, and lifted him into the back of my truck. Now I just gotta find a place to have fun with the little fuck. Sure in hell ain't gonna take the boy home.

From Ruiz: I didn’t really expect this from you! I think I’ll take it someplace more comfortable for you, where you can be closer to yourself.

I’m lucid now and try to focus my thinking. I can’t see anything and can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed or covered.

My hands are together and I try to separate them. I feel some sort of restraints around my wrists holy shit my heart starts racing.

I move my hands around and feel my stomach, upper thighs, pubic hair, penis then my mind races to an instant checklist of all the parts of my body that feel something cold: my bare heels against cold hard plastic, my uncovered calves against same, my ass against cold, my shoulder blades, the back of my head.

I know I’m naked.

Something is covering me and I feel it with my hands I think it’s a plastic tarp.

I’m wide awake now and really scared.

The sound stops as the vehicle halts.

I hear a car door slam and then a hatch opening. Warm air flows over me and I can smell ash in it. I can hear cars speeding by and I know I’m by a freeway.

Nothing happens for what feels like an endless moment and I start to wonder if I’ve been left here.

I think to sit up why did it take me so long to think of this and then two hands close around my ankles, gripping them. I decide in an instant not to resist and in fact to play dead.

The hands pull sharply and I feel my ass and shoulders slide across the hard plastic. The hands let go of my ankles and my legs fall freely until I can feel the ledge of the truck hatch under my legs. My bare feet are hanging in space.

I feel the tarp as it’s dragged off my body.

The hands return to my legs, now on my thighs. They move up my thighs, grip, and pull again. I can feel the his jeans against my inner thighs and testicles.

My bound hands had unconsciously gone to a protective position over my penis, I realized as the hands closed around my wrists and lifted them until they were above my head on the floor of the truck bed.

Then a hand slid under my head and lifted it as I heard his words: “Drink it.” I felt glass touch my lower lip and I opened my lips so he could pour.

The taste was vodka – and something else. A slightly bitter taste I couldn’t immediately place.

Then his voice again: “Something to help you relax.”

The effect was strong and immediate.

He touched the shaft of my cock and I started getting hard under his fingertips as they moved slowly down. He and I heard a moan leave my mouth.

Then I heard a distant siren and his hand left me.

There was a moment of stillness.

The siren got louder as it neared.

Then his hands on my thighs again as he pulled my ass to the ledge of the truck. His hands went under my arms as he lifted me up to stand.

I felt my bare soles on cold cement.

My hands were suddenly unbound.

His voice: “Keep your eyes closed.”

And I felt some kind of cloth blindfold leave my face.

I stood silently as the siren got louder and I heard the truck hatch close, then a door open and close.

The truck started and I felt exhaust hit my calves.

Then I heard the truck drive away. I thought about opening my eyes to read his plate but was still too scared.

The siren got closer and closer.

I thought about being naked in front of police officers.

Then the siren passed, on what seemed like a street below the one I was on.

With only the sound of passing interstate traffic now, I open my eyes.

It’s dark out.

380 is to my right.

I’m standing alone in a cul de sac, surrounded by dirt.

I turn around to see a small windowless trailer.

I think about going to knock on the door, at least to ask for shorts and a t-shirt.

Then I hear a car approaching so I turn back. Is the truck coming back for me? I don’t think so, the sound is already different.

I can see headlights now.

I keep waiting for them to turn into a garage but they keep getting closer.

I cover my cock with my hands, but just the touch between my palm and my cock reminds me physically that five minutes ago I was fed an aphrodisiac. I feel my head getting lighter and my cock starts swelling again.

I try to focus my thoughts on anything else but this but my cock keeps getting harder.

I move right arm to conceal my erection and shift my weight nervously as the driver of the car sees me and brakes.

I can’t see him or her beyond the blinding headlights, which are lighting my entire naked body. I know even my pubic hair is visible, but I focus everything on keeping my hardon hidden behind my forearm, my right hand covering and holding my testicles.

The headlights go dark first, then the engine quiets as it’s turned off.

I focus on the windshield but can’t see much more than a blur without my glasses.

I stand helpless, naked, waiting to meet the driver - maybe my savior.

I stand waiting as the cars rush by on the nearby interstate. The car sits silently before me.

I never heard his window go down but suddenly his voice: “Get in.”

I can hear in his voice kindness and pragmatism.

Without even seeing him, I walk quickly around to the passenger door, open the door with my left hand, and swiftly sit down onto the seat.

I reach over somewhat awkwardly to pull the door handle closed with my left hand, careful as I am to keep my right hand and arm where they are – though I comprehend instantly that my hardon is barely concealed from the driver’s vantage point to my left.

He powers up his window and the car is quiet now.

I can see him better now.

He has a regal face, with warm eyes behind glasses. His eyes hold on my own.

I hear myself ask him, “Where am I?”

He answers in a soft voice, “You’re safe.”

He rests his right hand on my bare thigh, to comfort me.

Of course he couldn’t know that not ten minutes ago I was made to drink vodka and something more, and that just his eyes on me, and his voice, and now his hand on my thigh are arousing me beyond language.

His eyes don’t leave mine and his hand stays on my thigh and my head starts racing again. I don’t know anything about this man, or what to say, but I feel instantly safe in his presence.

Having held my gaze, I’m surprised as his eyes deliberately break from mine and I watch as they slowly look down my body. They seem to take their time looking at my shoulders and biceps, then my torso.

When I see them looking toward my pubic hair, I make a choice and pull my hand away from my hard cock.

I want him to see it.

I want him to want it.

I want him to want me.

A drop of precome wells up, glistening in the dim light.

We both see it.

I watch as his right hand leaves my thigh and his thumb wipes the precome off my head, like he’s cleaning me.

The sensation of his thumb touching me for even a second is almost too much to bear.

He brings his thumb to my lips and glazes the precome across them, feeding my body’s own lubricant back to me.

He drives his thumb between my lips into my mouth. As I felt the tip of his thumb make contact with my tongue, I tasted my own precome.

He pulls his thumb from my mouth and rests it on my lips a moment. I understand the message instantly: no more talking.

Then he reaches past me with his long arm to grip and pull the seatbelt across my torso and waist.

He grabs my hand and inserts it under the belt and I know then that my arms are to remain restrained for the duration of the ride.

Precome keeps welling from my opening and he wipes another large drop with his thumb, rubbing it around and into my hard left nipple. I moan so loud in the silent car that I worry instantly that he’ll be mad at me.

Instead, he simply starts the car, and steers is out of the cul de sac.

The small trailer recedes behind us as he drives me to wherever he wants to take me.

We ride in silence and I keep my gaze down at my precoming hardon. He drives us out of the two lane road, and a few minutes later I look up as he pulls into a hotel and parks. I don’t ask questions as he takes the keys from the ignition and exits the car.

I hear the trunk open and then close soon after.

The passenger door opens suddenly his arm is passing before me and he releases my seatbelt, then guides it back across my bare chest.

His other hand appears, holding a small wad of clothing. I accept the offering and separate the bundle into its components: a sweatshirt and sweatpants. I pull them on, pants first. They’re clearly his as they carry his scent and they’re large on me.

He steps back from the door and I know I’m meant to exit. I move my bare foot from floor the car to the cold concrete of the parking structure and exit the vehicle, standing before him.

The sweatpants are apparently without elastic and start to fall. I catch the falling waistband with both hands and hold them up, hands together on the front of my waistband.

He’s a good few inches taller than me, which explains why my sweatpants are pooling around my ankles.

He closes the car door and starts walking. Without even a moment’s thought about it, I follow right behind, as he must somehow have known I would.

We cross the parking structure level to an elevator. He pushes the button and we wait. The doors open and we enter, standing side by side.

The elevator door opens and we step out into a lobby. He walks and I follow, with my eyes to my bare feet and the floor passing underneath.

I can hear voices of what I intuit are receptionists at registration but I don’t look up. I wonder if they’ve noticed us, and me, and my feet, and what they think is going on.

We wait for another elevator while the voices keep humming somewhere behind us.

The doors open and I step inside, followed by you. The doors close.

We stand side by side.

I feel on my lower back a sudden puff of cool air from behind - I think to myself it’s weird that there’s suddenly a breeze inside this elevator.

Finally it dawns on me that my t-shirt hem is somehow being lifted to expose my skin. I don’t know why it doesn’t occur to me that it’s your hand lifting my t-shirt.

Then I feel something that startles me to the point of confusion: your fingertips slide under the waistband of my shorts. I feel your fingers moving down skin and try to wrap my head around this reality.

Your middle finger slides into a muscular notch above my ass and just rests there. I catch my breath audibly, which I’m instantly embarrassed by, then fall into silence. I keep my face down, staring at my bare feet and the floor.

My mind races around the question - how you could know what touch in this precise area does. Who would have told you, how would you have found out, that that area is basically my ignition - that anyone who touches it sort of instantly takes control over my will and, as desired, the rest of me.

Somehow you do know what touch in that place does to me and so you start, here and now, to use that knowledge toward your own ends: maybe I only imagine your finger slightly moving or maybe it really does move, but just barely, in that notch.

It feels intense, arousing. I try to swallow the sound forming in my throat, to try not to betray my feelings, so I’m surprised to hear my own voice say one small word, sounding too much like a plea: “Please.”

And I know you can discern in that sound a kind of submission. I can tell you understood it as I hear your breathing start to increase and overlap, along with mine, until I can’t separate the sounds.

The elevator doors open.

My mind starts racing, but before I can even land on a thought I feel your finger press and I know what I have to do. I start walking down the hall, with you following.

You keep pace with me and your finger stays where it is, a single point of constant connection.

We arrive at a door and I feel you slow behind me so I stop.

You reach around me to use a keycard and push the handle down and the door open.

Inside, the room is completely dark.
I walk into it and you follow.

The door closes heavily behind us.

There’s a heavy pregnant moment. The uncertainty as to what you want, how far you want this to go, what you’ll make me do, hangs heavy in the darkness.

I suddenly feel two hands I can’t see going under the sweatshirt to touch and then grip my sides.

Your hands start moving up my sides, pushing your sweatshirt up ahead of them, and when first the shirt and then your hands reach my underarms they never stop moving.

My arms just go up smoothly, like those wine openers that look like human heads, and the sweatshirt goes up my face as you push it up and finally off my raised hands.

I hear the sweatshirt hit the floor in the dark.

I feel your hands close around my wrists and bring my hands together on top of my head and sort of press them down, one on top of the other, like they’re staying a dog and telling me to leave my hands there. I understand the message.

I feel those unseen hands leave my own hands resting obediently on my head, and your fingers slowly start running the length of my forearms, then my biceps. They come down over the hair under my arms and I make some quiet noise so they come back to that area and stay there for a moment. The effect on me is obvious, through my quickened breathing and the intimate sounds I start making

From Alan: This is great, and I need to take time to read it more carefully tomorrow.

From Ruiz: The true beginning, and the motivator, was your having imagined me in that cul de sac – which I have since been to at night.

I stood there naked, in the dark, waiting for you to appear.

I’ll wait again, until you do.