By Willie Cici
published May 21, 2019

Harley’s truck leaves him stranded along a dusty Texas highway. He walks to the nearby house, hoping for the kindness of strangers …

“No. No. No. This can’t be happening.”, the man shouted as the engine of his pick-up truck spurted and stalled by the side of the road. He stared at the gages in his vehicle. He had gas. The temperature was not excessive. “What the fuck!”, he shouted again, as he pounded his hands against the steering column of the pick-up truck.

Harley stepped out of his pick-up truck. He grabbed his cell phone and tried to place a call for emergency assistance. “Dead. As usual.”, Harley shouted. He should have known. Even with the phenomenal coverage that his carrier provides, Harley could not escape the black hole of non-coverage in this part of the country. He remembered reading a sign minutes before his engine failed: Hemphill, Texas. “Son of a bitch!”, Harley muttered. “That prick can’t send me north. No, I have to cover everything below Shreveport.” Harley leaned against his pick-up truck. The sweltering heat forced Harley’s hand. He waited about thirty minutes hoping another vehicle would stop to offer assistance. When no one drove by, despite his better judgment, Harley began walking north, hoping to find a house along State Highway 87.

Twenty minutes later, Harley spotted a shack of a house several hundred yards from the road. “Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.”, Harley hummed, the tune of ‘Dueling Banjos’ recalling that horrible feeling from the movie classic, ‘Deliverance’. Harley walked down the dusty driveway and headed for the shack, hoping that the occupants had an old-fashioned land-line phone to use.

Harley knocked on the door. When the door opened, Harley was shocked. In the threshold of the doorway stood a young man, probably 20 years old, blonde and stark naked. “What can I do for you?”, the young man asked, his southern drawl in full effect.

“Umm … my car broke down a mile down the road. Can I use your phone?”, Harley asked. He tried to keep eye contact with the young man for obvious reasons.

Before the young man could answer Harley’s question, another young man came to the door, also blonde and also naked. “Who’s this, Woody?”

“Man needs to use the phone, Jed.”, Woody said.

Harley stared at Woody and Jed. With two naked studs in the doorway, Harley could not ignore the obvious. The two lads, tanned, fit, taut and hard, smiled like children waiting for Santa Claus. (To see Woody and Jed, click here).

“Come in.”, Jed said.

Harley had no choice. He needed to use the phone. As he walked into the house, Woody said, “You look parched? Can I fetch you a glass of water?”

Unfortunately, Woody was right. Harley was beyond thirsty. Nothing about the shabby little house suggested foul play. By men’s standards, the house was not dirty – messy, but not dirty. “Yeah. I’ll take a bottle of water.”

Woody scurried into the kitchen to fetch Harley his glass of water. Harley stood in the middle of the living room. As he surveyed the scene, he could not help but notice the time freeze of everything in the living room. A tube television encased in a wood cabinet, a scotch-plaid weave couch, shag rugs, worn leather furniture, paneling that mimicked red bricks: the living room looked like a museum dedicated to the 70s. Woody returned from the kitchen, still naked, with a plastic bottle. Harley sipped the water carefully. When he felt safe to drink the rest of the water, Harley gulped the cool, refreshing beverage. “Let me get you another bottle.”, Woody said, as he took Harley’s empty bottle. In a flash, Woody returned with another bottle of water, uncapped.

“Thanks. I didn’t realize I was so thirsty. I’ve been at this for over an hour.”, Harley said, as he sipped the second bottle of water.

“An hour? Your wife must be worried.”, Woody said.

“No wife. No kids. Not even a girlfriend.”, Harley said. “Why am I confessing all that information?”, Harley thought to himself.

“The phone’s over there.”, Jed said, as he pointed to a black metal phone that dated from the 50s.

“I haven’t seen a rotary phone since I was a kid.”, Harley said, as he picked up the receiver and started dialing ‘411’.

“What’s a rotary phone?”, Jed asked.

Harley stared at Jed. Before he could answer Jed’s question, a voice answered Harley’s call. “City and state, please.”

“Where are we, technically?”, Harley asked Jed.

“Hemphill, Texas.”, Jed said.

“Hemphill, Texas.”, Harley said to the telephone operator. “I need the telephone number for roadside assistance.” After a short pause, the operator provided the name and telephone number of a local garage who could provide assistance.

“Do you have a piece of paper and pen?”, Harley said.

Jed hurried away to grab some paper. By the time he returned, Harley had passed out and fallen to the floor of the living room. Jed took the telephone receiver and took the information from the operator.

Woody and Jed stood around the collapsed Harley. They both smiled and nodded ‘yes’. They dragged Harley through the living room and into the bedroom. They undressed Harley and posed him upon the bed. The two lads caressed Harley’s soft, slightly flabby body. They wiggled his sleeping member and laughed. “Daddy’s got a nice cock, Woody.”

“Yeah. Daddy’s got a nice cock.”, Woody replied.

Propped upon the bed by the faded-linen pillows, Woody place a small tube into Harley’s mouth. After they secured the tube, Wood attached a funnel to the tube. “Get the juice, Jed.”, Woody shouted.

Jed hurried into the kitchen, opened the frig and retrieved the glass half-gallon jug and rushed back into the bedroom. He slowly poured the clear-liquid juice into the funnel and force-fed the half-gallon contents to the unconscious Harley. When the lads finished force-feeding the juice to the unconscious Harley, the boys closed the door of the bedroom. They walked into the living room and reclined on the couch, in a 69. The boys resumed their mutual blow job, interrupted by Harley’s knock on the door.

Two months have passed –

A knock on the rear door alarmed the occupants of the shabby house in Hemphill, Texas. Harley grabbed his gun and walked to the rear door, opened the door and stood on the rear porch. The sun caught his lower physique and chest, but obscured his face. The metal of the gun glimmered in the shade caused by his body. (To see Harley, click here).

“I knocked on the front door, but no one answered. I was wondering …”, the man said.

“We ain’t got no phone, no food and no nothing.”, Harley shouted. “So, just git.” The look in Harley’s eyes compelled the man to backtrack and run away. “That’s right. Just git.”, Harley muttered.

Harley re-entered the house. Woody and Jed asked Harley, “Who was that, Daddy?”

“Nobody. Some intruder, I’m sure they was looking for you two cocksuckers.”, Harley teased.

Woody and Jed smiled. They walked into the living room and sat on the couch, stroking their cocks. Harley followed his boys into the living room. He knelt on the floor in between Woody and Jed and using both hands, stroked the boys’ cocks. Woody and Jed smiled as Daddy stroked their cocks. Then, Harley took turns sucking the boys’ rods, getting them good and hard.

The boys needed a new Daddy. The ‘juice’ only last so long, but with Harley, they decided to feed their new Daddy with the spiked juice every day.

They knew they had found their new Daddy.

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