On the night of his eighteenth birthday Henry waited until after the cake had been eaten, his few meager gifts had been unwrapped and his parent's gone off to bed, and then he slipped out of his bedroom, down the stairs and quietly out the back door.
He had a few possessions in his old Boy Scout backpack, a couple of changes of clothing in a duffel bag, and a little more than fifty dollars in the pocket of his jeans. He would have left with nothing at all if it had been necessary. He had waited so long for the day he could be free.
As he opened the backyard gate it screeched, loud and rusty. He froze for a minute, then tiptoed through it. Without looking back he headed down the alley to the street.
The night was silent as he walked the six blocks to the freeway. He turned up the collar of his denim jacket as an autumn wind made the leaves dance around his feet. They were his only companions on the empty street. He thought about Paul and how much he wanted to see him again, but that thought worried him too. Maybe Paul didn't really want to see him again. After all, they had only been together a few times, they were never more than friends who shared a few intimate experiences. But Henry knew that he had to get away, and he had no other ideas where he could go.
He crossed the bridge over the freeway, jumped the chain link fence and climbed down the slope to the edge of the southbound lanes.
He had just begun to walk along the shoulder when he heard a car approaching. He turned and stuck out his thumb but it sped by without taking any notice of him. Traffic was light and he began to worry that it might be harder to get a ride than he had hoped. After several more cars had passed him by, a van did slow and he could see the driver's face checking him out in the ghostly green of the dashboard lights. Henry smiled, trying to look friendly and harmless, but the van sped up and left him alone in the dark.
The highway was deserted after the van went by. Henry felt depressed. He had expected there to be more traffic, that he would not much trouble getting a ride. Eventually, a few cars did pass, but none of them showed any sign of slowing for him. He began to fear that he would have to walk all night.
His despair did not last for long. Headlights lit the road, and before he could turn and put out his thumb, he heard the loud screech of air brakes. A semi truck rolled past him and came to a stop a short distance down the road. Henry trotted up to the truck, and slipped off his backpack. He climbed up on to the running board and opened the door. A wave of warm air washed over him, smelling faintly of diesel and tobacco. He climbed inside.
"Just stow your gear in back" the driver said. He was a burly man, with broad shoulders and a heavy stubble of beard. Henry judged him to be in his late thirties or early forties.
Henry reached across the passenger seat and shoved his bag and pack behind it. As he did, he noticed that the rear of the cab was a small but comfortable sleeping compartment. He sat down and unbuttoned his jacket.
"I'm Bob." the driver said. "Where you headed, son?"
"Hi. I'm Henry. I'm going to Florida, to visit a friend."
"Florida, huh? Well I can get you some of the way at least. Man, I could use a little of that warm sun myself."
They made small talk for a while, but Henry soon found that he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He drifted in and out of sleep, until he was jarred awake by the shifting of the big truck's gears.
Bob laughed. "Sorry about that, kid. Listen, why don't you crawl in the back and get some shut eye."
"Yeah, sure." Henry replied, "That's a good idea." He climbed into the back. The bunk was wider than he had thought, about the size of a single bed. He sat on the edge and unlaced his shoes.
"It gets damn warm back there." Bob said over his shoulder. "You probably want to strip to your skivvies."
Henry began to undress, and wondered if the driver had ulterior intentions, and how he would respond if he did. Although the idea made him nervous, and he realized that he was in a vulnerable situation, he found his cock growing stiff at the thought. He slipped under the bunk's thin covers. His hand strayed beneath the waistband of his jockey shorts and squeezed his cock. He gave it a few slow strokes before he fell asleep.
Some time later, he did not know how long, Henry was awakened by the downshifting motion of the truck. He drifted off again, only to feel Bob's hand on his shoulder a few minutes later.
"Where are we?" Henry asked, in a sleepy voice.
