The Logging Road

***AUTHORS NOTE: This is Part 3 in a series. All characters over 18.***

Jason was feeling bliss. He couldn't get the image of Andrew's cock and hefty balls out of his mind. Just a few minutes before, the thirty-something-year-old man, ten years his senior, was lying atop him, genitals resting on his face. Still pulsing. Still leaking. He loved the way the cock felt in his mouth, the foreskin retracting as he had sucked on it diligently. The young man was picturing himself as he might have appeared, with those warm balls on his face, covered in hair, his forehead warming the flesh of the scrotum, allowing it to relax and spread over his eyes. He could still smell the bushy pubic area that had tickled his chin. His own cock stirred in his pants, though it ached from performing exhausting oral sex twice this day.

"Oh fuck..." Andrew said.

Jason broke concentration and looked over. Andrew had only just pulled back onto the main road, route 224, the taste of cock still fresh on his breath, and now something disturbed him.

Andrew's eyes were locked in the rearview mirror. The black and white 1931 Ford Model A that followed them by several car lengths maintained its speed, lurking like a predator following its next meal.

Jason, the young black man, checked the side-view mirror and saw it too. "Police," he declared with a slight whimper.

"Sheriff," Andy corrected, then cleared his throat.

"What do we do? Do you think he knows?"

Andrew waved his right hand dismissively, "Just relax. He hasn't flashed his lights. He's just hanging back."

"Do you know what they would do to us, Andy...what they do to men like us who do what we do?! Jail would be merciful! You might get jail...I'll...I'll..."

"Don't talk like that!" He interrupted. "He hasn't flashed his light, he probably didn't see anything. He's just curious what the hell we were doing off the main road. We could have been fishing, we could have been doing virtually anything else!"

In reality, Andy knew what would happen if they were caught. Society wouldn't look too fondly on a queer black man. As frightened as he was for his white ass to be thrown in jail for several months to several years, he was more afraid for Jason. He felt responsible for roping the young man into his own sexual deviousness. He may very well have doomed the poor soul.

Jason looked around. "We haven't any fishing or hunting supplies anywhere on this truck. Surely, he will be suspicious!"

"Just relax," he said anxiously. "Relax." A bead of sweat tickled his temple as he eyed the car in the mirror. Like a drum, his heart beat its tune right into his ears.

A sign up ahead marked Oregon Route 211, the final highway that took them home. Andy slowed the truck and began making his left turn. The Ford maintained its speed and continued past them, the lawman at the driving wheel gave them a stern but cordial nod. The chiseled features of his face were accented by the dark eyes behind his narrowed lids. His black hair was combed, and he had a small scar on his hairline. It wasn't clear whether the nod had a deeper meaning, either positive or negative, or if the officer was unaware of their encounter and just wanted to greet them as he passed. At this point, it didn't matter. The car sped on, and Andy and Jason were still running free.

After a quiet and tense drive along the road, the truck then entered the dusty town of Sandy, a small municipality made up of working-class folks, but rich with a sense of community. Re-paving of the main road was underway as the State Highway Commission was constructing Highway 26, the "Mt. Hood Highway", which would cut the travel time to and from Portland in half. Shackled men wearing gray and white stripes were spreading fresh asphalt as a steam roller followed closely behind, leveling and compacting the new road surface.

Turning down a narrow road with small wooden houses in sparse proximity, Andy sighed and said, "We're home."

Jason turned to look at him, taking a moment to admire the handsome features of the older man. Then he glanced down as he replied, "Maybe we shouldn't rush into things."

Andrew's brow furrowed.

"I just mean," Jason paused and pursed his lips, then continued, "things could have ended very badly a while ago. Maybe we should take the opportunity to lay low for a period of time and pick back up when it feels right."

The older man wore his disappointment openly. "I hope it hasn't put you off completely. I...I can't go forever without...returning to this."

"What even is this?"

He took a moment to consider before answering, "Escape. Pleasure. Intimacy. The very virtues we are barred from in our lives."

Jason shook his head, a tear forming in his eye, "The road to pain and death."

Andrew knew the young man was scared, but he didn't want this to end. "Do you think our escapade was random? What are the odds that you found a partner of such unique intimacy in a town so far removed from the sins of the metropolitan cities? And we're long-time friends, no less! I trust you. You trust me. When will this kind of thing ever happen to you again? Or to me?"

As the truck reached the end of the road, a small wooden house with paint-chipped clapboards came into view. A plump black woman was sitting on the porch, knitting. She lifted her head in time to see the old Chevrolet slow to a stop by the front walk of the house. A grin stretched across her gentle face, running cheek to cheek. She made her way down to the truck.

Jason shot a quick plea to the older man while still in the privacy of the cabin of the vehicle, "Please, don't tell anyone."

Andrew's eyes widened to emphasize the seriousness of his promise, "I'd sooner cut out my own tongue, Jason."

The young man managed a desperate smile in reply.

"My boys!" said the woman, "How was the drive? Not too arduous I hope!"

"All fine, Mrs. Delacroix," Andy nodded with a smile.

Jason exited the vehicle, kissed his mother on the cheek, and proceeded into the house. So afraid of revealing his submissive nature was he, that Jason didn't even turn to wave goodbye, he just kept walking.

"I wanted to thank you for driving Jason into town, his uncle in Seattle has taken ill and ordinarily we'd rely on the telegraph office in town, but with the winds kicking up...these old trees, well you know how they keel over." The woman shook her head in apology.

"It was nothing, Mrs. D. I needed to go into town anyway!"

The woman managed a sad smile, looking around the cabin of the truck before locking her eyes back onto the white man, "I wish I could compensate you for your time and gas for this drive...can I bake you something for tomorrow?"

Andrew smirked as he thought of an irresistible treat, "Well...I suppose I wouldn't say no to your world-famous shortbread."

The woman giggled, "World famous!" She shook her head and added, "Consider it done. Tell your mama and Mrs. that I said hello. And please, don't be a stranger. Jason and I could use some company."

"Please, Mrs. D., as long as you keep that shortbread coming, you couldn't keep me away!"

* * *

It was dark. Outside, the small tree frogs were chirping their collective song. Inside the bedroom, the floorboards and wood frame of the structure tapped and creaked as it expanded with the warmth of the blaring electric heater. The red coils lit the room with its orange glow.

Andrew discreetly pulled off his blankets, turning a quick glance at the wife who shared his bed. It had been a week since his return from the outing in Portland, and once again his beloved had dismissed any sex or touch. The woman could have sex once and store it up in her reserves for the whole season. Meanwhile, Andy was left to relieve himself almost daily.

He crept across the room and down the stairs to the bathroom below. Now in the safety of his private throne room, he pulled down his drawers, revealing his leaking cock. Desperate for satisfaction, he wasted no time gripping it as he stood over the toilet. Peeling back his foreskin, he shuddered from the chill of the room. With a pumping motion, he slipped into a daze of his own sexual gratification. He was imagining his wife, picturing her in all manner of ways and scenarios, but his erection didn't fully swell. It wasn't until he switched to imagining the round globes of Jason's satin-smooth ass, that he felt himself stiffening. His grip increased and he was now pumping harder, feeling his foreskin gliding back and forth in repetition...the sensation is indescribable, like satiating a sexual itch manifested in physical stimulation. In moments, his dick pulsed and squeezed out loads of his cum. He watched as glob after glob spilled into the toilet bowl.

Typically, after any man completes his deed, a sort of clarity takes over. Sensibility and logic come back. He should have been able to return to bed satisfied and content. But he couldn't put Jason out of his mind, he not only desired the young man's body but also his company. It was a kind of relief that nothing else could compensate for. This was a sign that their transgressions seven days ago shouldn't be forgotten.

* * *

The little market was empty aside from its sole employee on shift. It was a small little shop. Fruit and vegetable crates were displayed in the center. The shelves along the walls stood high, and on each shelf were everyday goods wrapped in neat packages of cardstock or paper. Some shelves contained items canned in lead-soldered tin, or packed in glass bottles or jars. Every item had basic labels depicting the product name in big text with a creative yet easily readable font, the brand name was usually reserved in the corner of the label. The ceiling lights were shut off to save on electricity costs, but a single refrigerated display case containing butter, milk, and a few varieties of deli meat and cheeses, was still running.

The clerk hadn't heard Andrew come in. It was none other than Jason himself, dressed in a professional uniform, a white shirt, red striped tie, and brown slacks, all protected from by a clean white apron. He was busy restocking a tidy shelf of Borax next to boxes of confectioner's sugar. Should a customer come in looking to fulfill an order, he would simply take a list from them, or make one for them, and then take the items from the shelf, leaving the customer very little to do with their own hands.

"Afternoon, sir," Andrew grinned playfully as he attempted to lower his voice to a baritone, "do you carry any contraceptives? I worry that all my heavy thrusting might make you conceive!"

Jason had yet to turn around before he nearly dropped a box of Borax and choked out, "Pardon?" With a furrowed brow he whipped around to see Andrew in a fit of laughter which then prompted him to break down in return. "Andy, you dolt! That's a terrible joke!"

"I'm a dolt, am I?" the older man said as he slipped behind the counter, pulling Jason close to him.

Still giggling, he responded back, "Of course." His eyes were ablaze with passion. He was caught off guard when he suddenly felt a hand on his groin, pressing against him and running down the stiffening length of his shaft.

They both scanned the room to ensure that they were still alone.

"I need you, Jason."

The younger man grinned, "I'm off in an hour, if you can wait that long."

Andrew touched his finger to the young man's lower lip, "If you insist."

***

The truck rattled with giddiness as he waited for Jason to lock up and climb in. Soon enough, they were both on their way to the logging roads. Instead of taking the same highway, they went south toward Salem, intending to pull off into a path carved in the wilderness.

Andrew set his hand on Jason's leg, gently squeezing it, getting a feel for the soft cock within the pant leg, admiring how it became more rigid under his touch. The young black man reacted with a cool smile, knowing he would satiate his sexual appetite within the hour.

The road was deserted, just as they had hoped. Driving for miles and miles out into the wilderness, they hadn't seen a soul...but these forests can still have eyes, it was never beneficial for one to assume no one spied them.

With the growl of the engine, the truck pulled off the gravel highway and down into a rough-cut path through the woods, the largest trees had already been felled and collected, leaving behind the ones too small to be cut into lumber. The smell of the wood was quite strong.

When the vehicle came to a halt both men hurried out to meet at the front, locking in a kiss, while tearing each other's shirts off.

"Let me see that dick," Andy demanded while catching his breath. He yanked the man's trousers down, watching the dark member bounce and come to rest against the wrinkled scrotum. The white man dropped to his knees so fast that he felt a splinter puncture his skin, he opened his mouth wide to take the plump meat into his mouth, sucking vigorously. He tasted the faintest residue of Jason's last piss, and it drove him wild with lust.

Resting his hands on Andy's head, Jason leaned back against the wheel hub, warm from the radiating heat of the engine. The sensation of the older white man's powerful suction, the way his tongue dragged underneath his cock, the way his whole head gyrated as it took his manhood deep within...it made Jason moan.

CRACK! POP!

Both men ceased their motion and listened carefully.

The grinding of gravel, the heavy wringing of soggy mossy ground. It was the unmistakable sound of car tires. But they didn't understand how...certainly the engine within the car would have alerted them long before. However, to their dismay, they realized the car was using the downhill path to propel the vehicle forward. The engine was shut off to infiltrate their homosexual haven stealthily.

Black and white, with a flat roof and a squared rear of the cab, they recognized the car immediately, a 1931 Ford Model A police motorcar. The same that Andrew had spotted following them the last time.

They ducked down, hoping they weren't seen yet, and quickly pulled up their trousers and reached their arms back into their shirts, going around the truck to remain obscured from view.

"Jason, follow me, quickly." Andy ducked into the truck cab, watching as the car pulled up just feet away. As soon as he heard Jason climb in and close the door, he reached to start the truck.

"Don't you try it!" said a deep voice from the cab of the police car. "There's nowhere to go, this logging path doesn't have an outlet and I've blocked your only turn around."

Both young men stared at the Ford, their hearts pounding in their chests.

They were certainly stuck and at the mercy of the young sheriff. He exited his vehicle and took heavy steps around the front, his sharp eyes flashing between them over and over again, reading their intentions and their guilt. "GET OUTA THE TRUCK!" he barked, his spittle launching forward and landing just steps away from them.

They did as they were told.

The cop eyed them cautiously, his hand poised over his revolver and holster. He analyzed them both, their shirts disheveled. The black man's trousers were still unbuttoned. And despite the cold, they both had a sheen of sweat on their brow. The white man's cheeks were crimson with lust, embarrassment, and fear.

"I knew I recognized you," the cop said. "I saw you, last week...miles north of here on the highway from the city."

Andrew gulped then said, "Sir, I think you have us mista-"

"Shut up. I didn't ask you. I KNOW what I saw." He shook his head, "Just before you both raced to get your shirts on, I saw this dark fellow leaning against the truck, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and you," he said pointing to Andrew, "your head bobbing up from his hips. I don't think you were biting off a loose string for your friend here, a scene like that only means one thing."

Andrew glanced over at Jason whose hands were trembling and his breathing was choppy and labored.

The sheriff noticed him too, simultaneously. "You scared?" he asked the black man.

His lips parted first, he took a moment to think, but his head was abuzz with activity, so he just answered truthfully, "Yes sir."

With a smirk, the officer nodded his head, "You should be." He leaned against the wheel hub of his car. "I had heard rumors of men like you two...I grew up around these woods. Small townsfolk and people cast from the same molds. I had heard rumors of certain men from the city who entertained each other behind closed doors and drawn curtains, away from the prying eyes of their wives and family." He crossed his arms and thought for a moment.

Andrew didn't dare interrupt the cop, they were miles from town, with no witnesses around, anything could happen in these woods, and everyone would accept whatever an officer of the law said went down out here. In this scenario, the best he could hope for is to spend time in the county jail, but at least he would be alive. Then it occurred to him that Jason might not be so lucky. He was already a societal outcast simply for the beautiful cocoa color of his skin, he would even be shunned by his own people if word got around that he was caught getting his tip shined by another man.

"You know what baffles me?" The officer continued to monologue, putting his finger up to his chin and tapping it in a mock gesture of curiosity. "You see, when a man and woman get together, he puts his dick into her pussy..." he cleared his throat, "Oh excuse me that was foul language on my part, I meant to say, 'her flower'." He half rolled his eyes before adding, "Not that I mind being the least bit crass with you sinners." With a soft chuckle he went on, "But you see, I am a man from a small town, I have never seen or heard of anything beyond what men and women do. So, my question is, what happens when you want to take your actions further? What happens when choking your chicken just isn't enough?" He bit his lower lip, his eyes glaring at them, "I think I know the answer to my own question."

"Sheriff, we have families, women that depend on us. I won't lie about what you saw, I see no point to it now, anyhow. But we are the primary earners for our households, we have to get back home, and we beg your discretion. We'll never-"

"Never do it again?" The cop finished for him. "I think you would. Once a sinner, always a sinner."

"Please don't kill us," Jason pleaded softly.

Andrew cooed, "Jason don't say that, the sheriff is obviously a nice man, we can convince him to let us go, can't we, sir?"

"Indeed," the cop agreed. "I never said anything about killing you, nor have I taken my gun out of my holster. I'm just talkin' with ya."

They didn't understand what he was up to. If he had no intentions of killing them, and if he hadn't arrested them already. Why is he just talking? Unless he plans to taunt them. Perhaps he likes seeing them so afraid.

"Are we going into custody, officer?" Andrew asked with a shaky voice.

The cop's cautious gaze softened a little, he just kept his eyes on them. Finally, he broke the cold silence, "I haven't said I'll arrest you, have I?"

"What are you going to do to us?" Jason whimpered, still trying to hold his composure and squeeze back his tears.

"Can't a guy just have a conversation?" the law officer responded. When answered with a tense silence, he slowly stood up on his feet and took two paces towards them. "Why don't you show me that trick you boys were practicing? It looked like you were both enjoying that."

Jason and Andrew met eyes before looking back at the cop.

"You know you want to, that's what you both came out here for isn't it? So c'mon, let's not waste precious daylight. Suck that dick like it's a hard candy!"

The officer's tone of voice was baffling. They didn't know if he was taunting them, or if he was commanding them.