Samuel

The story is set in the imaginary town of Carndene, Mississippi, USA. All the characters are aged 18+. I would love to hear from you and will reply to all emails.

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Samuel stepped out of the clapboard church in the town of Carndene, somewhere near Utica. halfway and then some between Raymond and Vicksburg, The hot Mississippi sun beat down on his back as he straightened his tie after Church. His blue eyes scanned the dusty parking lot, squinting through the glare. The congregation of God's Redeemed Flock had dispersed, leaving behind a trail of fading chatter and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath retreating tires. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and fried chicken, the remnants of the post-service potluck.

Today, Pawpaw had preached on 1 Peter 5:8-9 "Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour". Samuel was now free of the sermon and took a deep breath, savoring the sweetness of freedom that came with the Sunday afternoon silence. Samuel locked the doors of the Church firmly. Pawpaw's sermons had once been his lifeblood, but now they were merely a cage of words that strangled Samuel's soul.

Walking the short distance home, the oppressive heat of the asphalt rose to meet his soles. The town of Carndene lay sprawled around the church and the houses all had their screens against bugs and the sun. The sidewalks were cracked and weeds grew up through the concrete, whispering secrets of rebellion against the unyielding grip of civilization. Near the Church, a stray dog lazed in the shade of a magnolia tree, its eyes following Samuel with lazy curiosity as he passed. The young man's thoughts wandered, a silent and internal rebellion against the strictures of his upbringing. Samuel's heart was a caged bird, fluttering against the bars of Pawpaw's faith desperate to soar into the world beyond.

Samuel's home was a bastion of righteousness, a fortress built in the 1950's from Pawpaw's religious convictions. Even now Pawpaw wasn't in his own home, he was with a family singing the Lord's praises along with Samuel's mother who had to help him get around now he was so much older. The white picket fence around the house was as unblemished as their family's reputation and the garden was a witness to his mother's tireless efforts to bring order to the unruly wilderness of the world. Samuel approached the gate with a heavy step, the weight of his secret pressing down upon him like an invisible yolk laid across his shoulders. Inside, the house was cool and dark, the drapes drawn against the relentless glare of the day. The empty house provided a brief, silent, respite from the constant scrutiny of his pious family.

In his room, the sanctuary of his private, inner thoughts, Samuel let his guard down. The single bed with its starched white sheets was a stark reminder of his purity, untouched by the hands of another. There was no mirror, Pawpaw didn't believe in the vanity of mirrors. The walls were adorned with verses and pictures of Jesus, eyes that seemed to follow him, judging his every move. Samuel sank into the chair by the window, his gaze lingering on the faded football poster. It was a relic from a time before faith swallowed him whole, a time when his dreams had been filled with touchdowns and cheerleaders instead of guilt and forced prayers. A battered old tin under the bed contained his entire life savings of almost fifty dollars. Samuel collected the folding money and coins and pushed everything down into a pocket.

The town clock struck three PM, a casual reminder of the time he'd wasted. He was a skinny eighteen year old now, a man by the world's standards but in Pawpaw's eyes he was still a child in need of protection. Samuel's allowance was meager, a strategic move to keep the boy from temptation's grasp although the temptations of the flesh grew stronger with each testosterone filled dream, a secret call that became more alluring with every stifled moan of the breeze through the open window. It was time for Samuel to seek what he truly desired, to break free from the chains of his upbringing and embrace the carnality that called to him.

He'd heard whispers, the hushed conversations of the town's more worldly inhabitants. They spoke of a place where his kind gathered, a place where his soul could relax a little in the shadows of Louisville or the town after that. The thought of such a place sent a shiver of excitement and fear down his spine. It was a place where his deepest, most secret yearnings could be satiated but also a place that could bring about his downfall. The allure of sin was undeniable, a siren's song that grew louder with each strike of the clock.

Samuel's hand trembled as he reached into his pocket, his fingertips brushing against the crumpled paper with a scrawled address. It was time to take the first step into the unknown and find that location, to shed the last vestiges of his innocence. Samuel knew the path ahead would be fraught with peril but the promise of release was too great to ignore. With a silent prayer for guidance, he pushed open the bedroom door and descended the stairs. His canvas shoes lay by the front door and he slipped them on before stepping out into the sun-drenched world.

Samuel trudged from Pawpaw's home wearing only a t-shirt and sports shorts, taking other clothes would have been too obvious. The backroad to Louisville was an asphalt ribbon of hope that unfurled in front of him, a promise of escape. Samuel stood by the side of the road ready to stick his thumb out in a self conscious sort of way, his heart hammering in his chest. The air was thick with the scent of heat, dust and the faint tang of gasoline, the only sounds the distant hum of a tractor and the occasional chirp of a cricket. The first car to pass was an ancient pickup, the kind that seemed to have grown out of the red dirt of the South, its engine coughing a greeting as it rumbled by without slowing. The driver was an ancient guy wearing a battered straw hat with thick spectacles. Samuel's stomach twisted with a mix of anticipation and fear, his eyes never leaving the horizon where salvation might appear on four wheels.

A cloud of dust heralded the arrival of the second car, a sleek 1972 Ford Galaxie that slithered down the road like a serpent seeking shade. The windows were tinted, the rumble of its engine a seductive murmur. The vehicle approached with the style of a predator and as it grew closer Samuel's heart skipped a beat. Samuel could feel the eyes within watching him, sizing him up. The car pulled over, the dust settling around it like a shroud and the driver side window rolled down with an electric whisper. A hand, tanned and strong, beckoned him closer.

Samuel stepped towards the car, his legs feeling like they might give out beneath him. The older man behind the wheel of the spacious sedan was a study in contrasts, his face was a roadmap of hard living with a hint of something hard behind the eyes. A cigarette dangled from his lips and the scent of cheap bourbon clung to him like a second skin. The driver looked Samuel up and down, his gaze lingering for some reason on the sweat-soaked patches of Samuel's t-shirt.

"Where ya headed, son?" he drawled, the words as thick as molasses.

Samuel 's voice was a weak croak but he managed to reply, "To the next town, Louisville, sir. Just looking to see what's out there."

The man's eyes narrowed, the smoke from his cigarette curling around his face like a question mark. "You got a name?"

"Samuel," he murmured, his heart racing.

The old man didn't give his own name in response although his smile grew wide, a sight that made Samuel's dick twitch.

"Well, Samuel, climb on in. I reckon I can show you a thing or two about the world beyond Carndene."

With a trembling hand, Samuel opened the passenger door and slid into the cool embrace of the sedan. The leather seats were a little sticky for some reason and the interior smelled of leather and the driver. The V8 engine pulled away from the curb and the only thing Samuel could do was pray that he'd made the right choice. The town of Carndene grew smaller in the rear view mirror, its judgmental stare swallowed by the horizon.

The journey was a blur of heat-mirages, side roads and endless cotton fields, the hypnotic rhythm of the road lulled Samuel into a state of uneasy tranquility. The man didn't speak, his eyes focused on the asphalt ribbon ahead. His fingers relentlessly drummed an unknown, frenetic, tune on the steering wheel. The finger-drumming was a beat that echoed the pulse of Samuel's desire. Each mile was a step further from the cocoon of his youth, each minute a heartbeat closer to new experience.

As the Galaxie approached the outskirts of Louisville, the old guy abruptly pulled off the back road without warning and took an even smaller side road before pulling in behind a ruined shack that had been empty since the 1960's. The tires crunched as the car came to an abrupt halt a dozen feet away from a roofless building. A cloud of dust billowed around them.

The driver turned to Samuel, his gaze unreadable. "I can see inside ya, boy," he said, his voice low and gruff. " I know you, you're a dick-sucker, ain't ya?"

Samuel knew he was being tested, challenged and humiliated but he didn't try to deny anything the old guy said. He'd never used such cuss words aloud even to himself but there they were, hanging in the air now like an accusation. Samuel nodded, his throat tight with a mix of fear and excitement.

The driver's smile grew predatory. "Thought so," he said, leaning back in his seat. " I reckon a cute lil' virgin no taller than a bucket o' chicken like you owes me for the ride. How's about you showing me some of those mouth skills you guys got?"

Samuel's breath caught in his throat, his heart racing like a trapped jackrabbit's. He'd never sucked dick before, never even seen a full grown man's dick up close but the need he felt inside was too great to refuse. Samuel slid along the bench seat towards the driver, his hands shaking as they found the man's belt buckle. The scent of gasoline and grease on the guy was overpowering but it only served to fuel Samuel's desperation. The driver smiled a little to encourage Samuel as Samuel started to notice the guy was much older than he'd thought at first sight.

The zipper was a metal serpent, revealing the man's thick, veiny member, a thick, throbbing, seven inch dick. It lay against the old guys thigh, a living thing, waiting to be worshipped and Samuel popped it out into the open. Samuel's eyes widened and he licked his dry lips, his mouth watering despite his nerves. The man's hands found the back of Samuel's head, forcing him closer.

"Take it, boy," the driver demanded. "You know you want it." His voice was harsh, controlling and remorseless.

Samuel did. He took it, tentative at first, feeling the heat and the softness of the man's skin. Samuel wrapped his lips around the tip, the taste of salt and sweat making him gag but he pushed through his inexperience. The old man's hands continued to push on the back of Samuel's head urging him on and Samuel began to bob his head, taking more and more of the shaft into his mouth. It was a dance of submission, each stroke a silent plea for an acceptance he'd never found in Carndene.

The driver's breath grew ragged, his hips moving in time with Samuel's rhythm. The car's residual air conditioning fitted as an optional extra for the old guy was a lifeline, cooling the sheen of sweat on Samuel's brow. Samuel's jaw began to ache, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. This was what he'd dreamed of, what he was being denied. Samuel licked and sucked harder, eager to please, to feel the power of the man's release.

It didn't take more than a few minutes and then it came, a hot, sticky flood that spurted into Samuel's mouth. Samuel didn't know enough to swallow it all or spit it out and, instead, he gagged as jizz ran out of his mouth down the shaft. The man didn't relent, his hand was still buried in Samuel's hair holding Samuel in place as Samuel coughed and choked and struggled. The driver enjoyed Samuel's distress, taking pleasure in the coughing and Samuel's attempts to sit up. The driver enjoyed his control over Samuel, holding him down, confining his movement. Restraining Samuel.

When the driver decided it was over he allowed Samuel to relax a little, the man released Samuel's head and allowed him to sit back, panting and trembling with the taste of old man's jizz in his mouth. The man put his dripping dick back in his shorts and zipped up his pants with a satisfied smack. The man took a long drag on his Camel cigarette. The driver didn't look at Samuel, he just stared out the window at the scenery. The silence was deafening, the only sound was the tick of the cooling engine and the distant hum of the far off highway. Samuel wanted the man to say something or to start the engine. Just anything to break the silence.

Self consciously, Samuel wiped the jizz from his face with the back of his hand, his eyes stinging with tears. He'd done it. He'd tasted forbidden fruit, he'd enjoyed the experience and now he didn't know what to do.

"Take your clothes off, faggot," the man barked, his voice as sharp as the sting of a whip that sliced through the quiet. "You ain't got no use for 'em'." The driver sounded mean, harsh, even brutal.

Samuel was scared and the driver's words made no sense but his hands instinctively fumbled with his t-shirt, sports shorts and canvas shoes as Samuel tried to obey. Samuel's face was a mask of fear and humiliation. This wasn't what Samuel imagined at all. The spacious interior of the car seemed to close in around Samuel as he quickly stripped, each piece of clothing a layer of his dignity. Samuel could feel the man's eyes on him, watching his body with the coldness of a predator sizing up its prey.

Samuel was five feet six inches tall, his small frame lean and toned from years of hard work on the homestead working for Pawpaw. Home schooling meant that Samuel was always available for work and working on school days made sure Samuel wasn't that smart. His lower arms and legs were tanned, a stark contrast to his pale chest and shoulders that hadn't seen much of the outdoors. Samuel had a confident strength about him, not bulging with muscles but Samuel was firm in a way that suggested a life of manual labor. The driver assessed Samuels body and the way that his ass was cute and enticing. The old man smiled, appreciating the nakedness beside him.

Once Samuel was completely naked on the leather seat the man grabbed at the pile of Samuel's clothes, his shoes and the near $50 and tossed everything onto the back seat before making a lunge toward Samuel. The old guy opened the passenger door, the heat of the day slapping Samuel in the face like a wet towel.

"Out," the driver barked his order, his hand quickly on Samuel's shoulder pushing Samuel out and onto the rough gravel and dirt of the yard behind the old shack.

The push from the old guy forced a naked Samuel out of the sedan and Samuel rolled out into the open, the gravel digging into his soft bare feet. Samuel stood there, out in the open under the burning afternoon sun, trembling, his skin felt the sudden change in temperature. The driver leapt out of the driver's seat and sprinted around the car to the passenger side before he grabbed Samuel's blond curly hair harshly, forcing Samuel to meet his gaze.

Samuel stood there, naked, exposed, nervous and vulnerable. Samuel shifted from foot to foot and placed both hands in front to cover his genitals but even both hands didn't quite cover his dick and a mass of untrimmed pubic hair. Samuel hadn't heard about trimming and a dense mass of curly hair erupted from between his legs. Samuel couldn't understand why his dick was so hard even though this was happening. Samuel didn't want the driver to think he liked what was happening.

"Run, little jackrabbit," the driver taunted. "Let's see how fast you can get with your dick sticking out for everyone to see." The driver laughed out loud as he looked down at Samuel. "Y'all better hightail it outta here if you know what's good fer ya!"

Samuel didn't need a second telling. Fear propelled him forward, his soft bare feet pounding the sharp, scorching dirt. Without his shoes, Samuel ran awkwardly down a dirt track still trying to hide his genitals with both hands before running into the cover of a cotton field, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Samuel's heart pumped adrenaline and panic, his mind racing faster than his legs. He didn't dare to look back, the old man's mocking laughter echoing in his ears.

The engine of the sedan roared to life and Samuel knew he had to get as far away as he could before the beast in the car caught up with him.