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Good old Indian summer: a late blast of sunshine and good weather, cool enough to bring dew in the evenings, warm enough for fun outdoors.
And a pain in the ass for long-distance driving when your air conditioning is broken, Cory told himself, fighting once again against the nods. Six hours already on I-5, he was nearing his first turn-off, and the warmth had him sleepy - and sweating. The sleep was bad enough; that endangered his life - the sweat, starting to soak into his crisp white shirt and neatly pressed dark chocolate brown pants, that could endanger his job. But he couldn't afford the time to stop and change, only to change back for his meeting, so he hit the power button to roll the passenger's side window down the rest of the way. It caught, as sometimes happened - and that's when he saw the hiker.
The guy was dressed the way Cory wished he could be: short cargo shorts, no shirt, floppy hat... though Cory wouldn't want to be hoofing it in this sunshine, not with a pack that looked as though it held over fifty pounds.
Cory's foot was on the brake, then shifting down, before he made a conscious decision. As he pulled over and waved the guy up, he asked himself why. It was easy: his subconscious knew how much easier it was to stay awake with someone to talk to.
"Rest your feet?" he called out as the hiker got near.
The guy stopped and looked Cory over before answering. Cory looked back, assessing this person he'd just offered a ride. Swimmer, maybe gymnast, he thought, admiring the solid chest and firm abs. Looks like he takes care of himself.
"Yeah, sure. I'm Casey,” the hiker answered. He slapped his pack. "In the back?"
"Yeah - canopy's unlatched. Careful of the cooler, though."
"No problem."
Casey turned out to be quite thoughtful: he draped a clean towel over the seat back before he leaned against it with sweaty skin. He just sat for a while, eyes closed, while Cory got back on the road.
"Thanks,” Casey said after a while. "Cops will get me if I stick a thumb out, but usually I can get away with just walking, until the city."
"No problem. I needed some company anyway."
Casey watched Cory drive for a few minutes. "You need a break,” he judged.
"Can't. Got a meeting, gotta be there on time."
"Down town?"
Cory shook his head. "No, a place called Estacada." He pronounced it "ess-TACK-uh-duh".
"You don't know the area, huh? It's 'ES-tuh-KAY-duh', man."
Cory blushed. "Sorry. Thanks. No, I don't know the area. And I didn't google it because I had my GPS guide, but it's messed up. So I have to hurry."
Casey shook his head in disagreement. "Wrong. You're nodding, and I won't ride with a nodder. But I'm fresh, I can drive this thing, and I know how to get there. So pull over, and switch." He looked at Cory's shirt. "And while you're at it, lose the threads - them sticking to you won't help with your meeting, right?"
Again Cory's subconscious made the decision before he'd thought it through. There was an exit coming up, and he'd maneuvered into the right-hand lane and was signaling to exit before he got to the decision his subconscious had already acted on. It turned out to be a rest stop.
"This is where I was heading,” Casey told him as they parked around on the back end of the rest area's loop. "It easy to get rides from a rest stop." He chuckled at Cory's nervousness. "Just strip and jump in. I'll get you there with no hassles - we take the I205 exit to get over the Columbia, then the 224 exit to head for Estacada - easy."
"Turn off on, um, something-Mill Road, and go toward the high school," Cory added as he stepped hurriedly out of his pants. With boxers sticking to his skin, he jumped into the Toyota before undoing his shirt. Casey was already in, adjusting all the vent fans to aim at the passenger's side.
"'Something-Mill,' huh? You got it." Casey got the Tundra rolling, boosted it as high as was safe in the rest area, and was onto the long frontage road and hit sixty 'way before they reached the freeway. When they did, he popped it up to 70 and settled into traffic.
Cory closed his eyes and thought about his presentation. A little more rest would help, he knew, but he wanted to stay awake so he could figure....
He came awake at a touch on his chest, and sat bolt upright.
"Whoa – sorry," Casey said. "You had a big river of sweat heading for your boxers - I caught it with a paper towel."
Cory nodded. "Where are we?"
"Just reaching the river; you weren't out long." Casey said as he pointed, "River of western exploration, the passageway for Lewis and Clark to the Pacific Ocean."
There was a paddle-wheel steamboat passing by downstream to the west. Cory pointed to it. "I'd rather ride in that," he said.
"And stay in a motel," Casey agreed. "How long till your meeting?"
Cory tapped the dash and the clock came to light. "Um, an hour and five minutes."
"Plenty of time. I know a spot along the way where you can get freshed up for your meeting. You need to get cooled down so you don't walk in sweating."
"How come you're trying to help me so much?" Cory demanded.
"You're helping me right now - my feet are in love with you," Casey flashed a big white grin. "Minute for minute, I'm getting the best of the bargain."
"Like you were going to Estacada," Cory objected.
"I was going... somewhere. Estacada is good for now." Casey shut up after that, and Cory could tell not to ask anything more.
In just a few minutes they'd breezed down I205, pushing the speed limit but only by a little, to their exit. Highway 224 turned out to run through the streets, but Casey seemed charmed as a driver; they never caught a light, and every time their lane slowed Casey popped them into the other and kept on rolling. In ten minutes he was clear of the town, heading into countryside. Cory nodded off again.
He awoke to Casey gently shaking him. "Okay, you had twenty minutes of beauty sleep. It's twenty more minutes to your meeting, and we have thirty-five. Hop out."
Cory did, and came around the pickup to find Casey in nothing but shoes and boxers. They bumped into each other; Casey was heading for his pack. After they laughed about it, Casey grabbed two towels from a big side compartment, and said, "Follow me."
It was a bit of a scramble down the shoulder, then a very short path led to the river. "The hole migrated,” Casey observed. "Upstream." What they arrived at wasn't much of a hole, no more than six feet deep, but it was enough to get wet.
"Strip, and hop in,” ordered Casey. "Ditch all that sweat and heat." Cory would have objected, but when he turned to Casey, all he saw was a bare ass aimed his way - a well-muscled ass, he noted - as Casey set the example and stripped. Then he dove in, a nice shallow dive that confirmed Cory's guess that he was a swimmer. Not to be outdone, Cory swallowed hard, dropped the shorts, kicked off his shoes, and dove.
It was cold. He crossed the deep part to where Casey stood, feet wide, pubic hair just barely under water. Cory put his hands over his crotch when he gained his feet.
Casey laughed. "Never been skinny-dipping before, huh?"
"Um... on a dare, when I was fourteen, in the neighbor's pool."
"All hidden and in the dark, huh? No big deal - but it feels free, doesn't it?" Casey didn't wait for an answer, but launched himself and dove, gliding close enough to the gravel bottom that Cory wondered if he were... dragging at all. From what he'd seen, Casey had a lot to drag. Again not to be outdone, Cory tried to follow suit, but he didn't have the skill and experience; instead of diving, he wallowed, and instead of gliding, he just worked at fighting the current.
He'd slipped and fallen for the second time and was stumbling again when a strong arm slid around his back to steady and support him. "Time's up,” Casey informed him.
"Thanks,” Cory said sincerely. "I swear I'd break my butt if I fell again."
"Can't have that!" Casey laughed. "Unless you can stand up throughout that whole meeting!" Cory had to laugh at that.
On the dry rocks at the side, Casey made Cory stand still, and rubbed him down lightly with a towel, skipping nothing. The soft contact on his genitals made Cory uneasy but also aroused him a little. He heard Casey chuckle, but his passenger said nothing.
"Back to the truck! Now we get you pretty." Casey was as good as his word: he made sure Cory was thoroughly dry before each piece of clothing went on. He snorted at Cory's knot for his tie, then showed Cory how to do what Casey called a "full Windsor". It did look an awful lot better than what Cory had managed. Not finished with that, Casey then went around Cory's shirt, adjusting the tuck to get the pleats and folds just so, and repeated the process with the slacks. He made Cory turn around once, then again, to make final touches.
"Excellent! Now, what what's the address?"
Casey got them to the place with five minutes to spare. When they pulled in, another young guy in suit and tie came out to meet them.
Casey looked the guy over. "You look better. Wait - let me adjust that collar, and your coat.... There - now go make a million."
"You didn't tell me you had a dog,” Casey scolded, when Cory's return woke him from a pleasant nap. "What kind is it, anyway?"
"Miniature hound, boxer and golden retriever. His name's Vagabond." Cory had an odd look on his face.
"I’ll drive,” Casey decided. "You tell me about your meeting. Um, where are we going next?"
"A town called Molalla. Know it?"
"Sure do. And the back way there."
"Kool!"
Cory climbed in, buckled, and started going through a stack of papers he had brought out. Casey remembered a notepad and some sort of leather folder - somehow they'd acquired loose paper. "What's all the paperwork?"
Cory waved him off, muttering. It sounded like he was counting, Casey thought. "You trying to add?"
"Yes,” Cory snapped, "and you made me lose count. I need at least an estimate."
No worries - read me the numbers,” Casey instructed. Cory looked at him a moment, then shrugged. What the heck could it hurt?
"Sixty-nine dollars and forty-eight cents,” he read. "Ninety-eight sixty-eight. Two hundred twelve forty-four. Eighty-eight fifty." Page after page he read.
When he stopped, Casey raised his eyebrows. "That's it?"
"Yeah."
"Three thousand five hundred forty-two dollars and seventy-seven cents."
Cory stared at his new acquaintance. "You added it that fast?! I can't even punch into my calculator that fast!"
Casey shook his head. "I don't add them - I just know. I flunked math a bunch because I knew the right answers, but I couldn't do the work to show how to get them - it just confused me. Then my wrestling coach in middle school realized what was going on, and got permission to let me retake the old tests. I got placed in a different math class, algebra, and loved it.
"Anyway, what's that number?"
"Take eight percent of it."
"Two hundred eighty-three forty-two. Is that your commission or something?"
"No, it's - well, something like that, yeah. I cut a lot of introductory deals on price, so my profit won't be more than maybe four percent, but that put me in bonus territory. Dude, you said 'Go make a million'; well, this is no million, but that's the best I've ever done!"
"With four percent your total would be four-twenty-five thirteen. You have another meeting in Molalla?"
"Yeah. If I do this well again...." Cory's eyes lit up.
"Well, for starters, get out of those clothes again, and fold them nicely. Gotta look your best, right?"
Casey himself was still in boxers; he pulled over, and in a minute they matched.
"How long till your next meeting?" Casey asked.
"Um... hour and forty minutes."
"Sweet - we'll have a half-hour fresh-up stop!"
The 'fresh-up spot' was upstream from a park, around a bend where the river split and the currents had made a deep hole on one side. Again, they stripped and swam.
"Oh, crap - we have visitors." Cory swore. They were lying out after a swim, on towels - stark naked, and at least ten feet from their boxers.
"Chill, dude - it's just skin,” Casey replied. Since he stayed on his back, so did Cory.
Three girls walked over, two of them giggling. They grabbed the two guys' clothes, including keys and wallets, and the other came over to look down at them.
"Trick or treat,” she said, grinning wickedly.
"I see the trick,” Cory replied bitterly. "You throw our stuff in the river. But we don't have any treats."
"Yes you do,” the girl disagreed, licking her lips. The treat would be I get to lick you all over."
Casey spoke up quietly. "What about your two friends?"
"They're not old enough. They won't watch if you want."
There wasn't much for it; he had an appointment to make, and there wouldn't be time for hunting for keys in the rapids. Cory spread his legs and arms in surrender, and closed his eyes. He only opened them once, to see Casey, a big grin on his face, watch as the girl wiggled her tongue up into Cory's left armpit.
When she started to go down on him, he objected. "You said lick - so lick." She made a little pout, but did.
Her finale was licking his ears, as deep as her tongue would go. Moments later he felt boxers, keys, and wallets land on his abs.
"You have a problem,” Casey observed. He reached over and stroked Cory's erection with a finger. "Why did you stop her?"
"I need to be focused for the meeting. After that, I wouldn't have been focused. And you're not helping."
With a laugh, Casey ran his finger along the urethra side of Cory's erection one last time. "Your loss." Cory saw Casey was holding his own erection.
"Um... we should get rid of these,” he said. Casey just laughed again, and they headed back into the crisp water.
"You look like a zombie,” Casey told Cory when the latter emerged from his second meeting. "Bad?"
Cory was spaced enough he started undoing his pants before he got in, then remembered they were still in town, and settled for loosening his belt and tie. "Drive,” he said when he was in.
"Where to?"
"Silverton. One hour."
Casey considered. "No fresh-up spot between here and there."
"I'll manage."
Off they went. "So was it bad? You're like in shock."
"Bad? Not! Casey, there was a guy at the meeting who's just finishing up an apartment building. He got interested when I asked if anyone had any complaints about the water here - someone always complains, and then I make my pitch about our water filters. He's got fifty units - and he ordered a filter system for each one... and not just the basic unit, either!"
"How much are those?"
"Four hundred and twelve apiece,” Cory whispered.
"Twenty thousand six hundred dollars!" Casey exclaimed. "Is that everything?"
"About fifteen hundred more."
"At eight percent?"
Cory shook his head. "I'm up to a twelve percent bonus range now."
"On the earlier part, too?"
"Yep."
Casey whistled. "Dude, your bonus just passed three thousand!"
Cory nodded. "And my profit is about twelve hundred. I usually take a month to make that."
"Heck - let's go do it again!" Casey slapped Cory on the back and hit the gas.
Cory didn't quite do it again: in Silverton he got only enough to increase his bonus by two hundred dollars, and his profit by eighty.
"Now where?" Casey asked, moving Vagabond off his lap when Cory returned.
"Place to crash. Dinner. Movie. Four meetings tomorrow. First one's in Keizer."
Cory was asleep before Casey was even out of the parking lot. Sales, Casey decided, was more work than he'd thought. He pulled over along Silverton Road for a few minutes in the dark, and carefully undid Cory's shirt, loosed his tie, and undid his pants. He knew he didn't sleep well in snug clothes, so he thought it might help his new friend. And since he was thinking "friend,” he refrained from inspecting beneath Cory's boxers, though he bent for a quick sniff.
Silverton Road was highway 213. When it crossed Lancaster Street, that became 213, and Casey followed it. His memories of Salem lacked a lot, but he recalled a cluster of motels and hotels along Lancaster.
He settled on a Best Western with a good sized indoor pool, got them a room with a double bed, parked near it, carried his pack in, and then went back for Cory. Inspiration struck: he turned back to the room, called and order both pizza and fried chicken, and only then went back to the truck.
Cory was awake, being pawed at by Vagabond, and fumbling ineffectually at the door. Casey got it for him, almost getting knocked over as the dog made a quick exit. "He needs to fertilize something,” Cory explained.
"Oops. He licked the back of my neck a couple of times, but I thought he was just being friendly."
"Nope - that's his signal, when we're traveling. He knows not to paw at the driver's arm."
"Smart dog."
"Sure is. Oh, man - did you ask about animals for the room?"
Casey hadn't, but he went and did so. "Ten dollars extra,” he reported.
"I can afford it,” Cory said with a grin. "Now, let’s find food."
Casey pushed him onto the bed. "Already ordered. Giant pizza with Canadian bacon, pineapple, mushrooms and fried chicken. So now, hang those clothes, I'll press them nice for you while you shower." Please, he thought, ask if I'll scrub your back.
"You can dry me again when I'm done,” Cory said over his shoulder just as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Casey's thighs tingled. Small treasures, he thought, are also good.
They were both sprawled on the bed, naked, when the door buzzed. Casey walked calmly to the door and opened it. A kid stood there with a pizza box. "I need you to sign,” he began, then noticed Casey.
Casey looked him over. "I tip good for cute guys,” he announced. "You eighteen?"
"Seventeen." The kid looked puzzled, and nervous.
"Too bad. I give special tips to cute guys who are old enough." He slid his middle finger in and out of his mouth to illustrate.
The kid blushed furiously and repeated the request for a signature. Casey had put it on his VISA; he added a twenty dollar tip, signed, and handed the slip back. As the kid handed him the pizza box, he planted a kiss on his cheek and slipped a five dollar bill in under the top of the kid's pants. The kid fled; Casey stood there in the door and blew a kiss after him.
"I love doing-" Cory was face down on the bed, snoring softly. "Well, mister salesman, I go to all the trouble of putting on a show to see if you get turned on, and you fall asleep on me. Well, you're not going to sleep through dinner!" He set the pizza on the pillow, straddled Cory and rolled him over.
"Din-din, mister salesman,” he chanted. "Wakey-wakey." He let some of his weight rest on Cory's thighs as he reached and pulled out a slice of steaming hot pizza. For a steaming hot Cory, he thought. Cory's chin made a nice resting place for one edge, as he gently blew the aroma toward the sleeper's nose.
Cory stirred. "Smells good - gimme one."
Since there hadn't been a protest about his position, Casey wiggled a bit and settled more of his weight on Cory as he handed over the slice, then got his own. When Cory asked for another, he took the opportunity to lift off, and then scoot farther up the other's smooth, lean body before sitting again. Two more inches, and their balls would be touching.
"You sure aren't bashful,” Cory remarked. "Is this because I scored big sales today?"
"No, it's because I like being with you. Today has been fun."
"Okay. Hey - you know why I'm on the road; why are you?"
"Lost my job." Casey deliberately let a piece of pineapple fall off his pizza; it landed on Cory's left hip bone - Beautiful! Casey thoughts, and bent over and licked it off.
Cory had been stirring a little; that stimulus made the difference, and his penis began to rise. Casey bent down again, and licked at the same spot, like he had missed something.
Just then the door buzzed again.
"Oops - the fried chicken!" Casey rolled off and Cory rolled over. This time Casey wrapped himself in a towel before answering the door.
"What took you so long?" Cory asked when Casey returned.
"I decided to order some of those decadent cinnamon rolls they have, for later." He rolled Cory onto his back again, sat back down on those wonderful thighs, and handed over a drumstick. Cory was still hard, though not totally.
"So why did you lose your job?" asked Cory.
"Can I show you, not just tell you?"
"Um..." Cory had a puzzled frown. "Sure, I guess."
"I got caught with another employee, who happened to be the boss's son, in the back room." He took a deep breath. "Doing this…" This time when he bent forward, he didn't stop, but opened his mouth and sucked in Cory's erection until the head pushed against the back of his mouth. The feel of it, warm and hard, at the top of his throat, was heavenly.
Cory gasped, then moaned. "Casey..."
Casey sucked his way back off, slowly. "The guy who caught us didn't let me finish. I'd really like to, this time."
"Can you deep throat?" Cory asked hoarsely.
"That's my favorite.'
"Then go for it."
Casey went.
to be continued....
And a pain in the ass for long-distance driving when your air conditioning is broken, Cory told himself, fighting once again against the nods. Six hours already on I-5, he was nearing his first turn-off, and the warmth had him sleepy - and sweating. The sleep was bad enough; that endangered his life - the sweat, starting to soak into his crisp white shirt and neatly pressed dark chocolate brown pants, that could endanger his job. But he couldn't afford the time to stop and change, only to change back for his meeting, so he hit the power button to roll the passenger's side window down the rest of the way. It caught, as sometimes happened - and that's when he saw the hiker.
The guy was dressed the way Cory wished he could be: short cargo shorts, no shirt, floppy hat... though Cory wouldn't want to be hoofing it in this sunshine, not with a pack that looked as though it held over fifty pounds.
Cory's foot was on the brake, then shifting down, before he made a conscious decision. As he pulled over and waved the guy up, he asked himself why. It was easy: his subconscious knew how much easier it was to stay awake with someone to talk to.
"Rest your feet?" he called out as the hiker got near.
The guy stopped and looked Cory over before answering. Cory looked back, assessing this person he'd just offered a ride. Swimmer, maybe gymnast, he thought, admiring the solid chest and firm abs. Looks like he takes care of himself.
"Yeah, sure. I'm Casey,” the hiker answered. He slapped his pack. "In the back?"
"Yeah - canopy's unlatched. Careful of the cooler, though."
"No problem."
Casey turned out to be quite thoughtful: he draped a clean towel over the seat back before he leaned against it with sweaty skin. He just sat for a while, eyes closed, while Cory got back on the road.
"Thanks,” Casey said after a while. "Cops will get me if I stick a thumb out, but usually I can get away with just walking, until the city."
"No problem. I needed some company anyway."
Casey watched Cory drive for a few minutes. "You need a break,” he judged.
"Can't. Got a meeting, gotta be there on time."
"Down town?"
Cory shook his head. "No, a place called Estacada." He pronounced it "ess-TACK-uh-duh".
"You don't know the area, huh? It's 'ES-tuh-KAY-duh', man."
Cory blushed. "Sorry. Thanks. No, I don't know the area. And I didn't google it because I had my GPS guide, but it's messed up. So I have to hurry."
Casey shook his head in disagreement. "Wrong. You're nodding, and I won't ride with a nodder. But I'm fresh, I can drive this thing, and I know how to get there. So pull over, and switch." He looked at Cory's shirt. "And while you're at it, lose the threads - them sticking to you won't help with your meeting, right?"
Again Cory's subconscious made the decision before he'd thought it through. There was an exit coming up, and he'd maneuvered into the right-hand lane and was signaling to exit before he got to the decision his subconscious had already acted on. It turned out to be a rest stop.
"This is where I was heading,” Casey told him as they parked around on the back end of the rest area's loop. "It easy to get rides from a rest stop." He chuckled at Cory's nervousness. "Just strip and jump in. I'll get you there with no hassles - we take the I205 exit to get over the Columbia, then the 224 exit to head for Estacada - easy."
"Turn off on, um, something-Mill Road, and go toward the high school," Cory added as he stepped hurriedly out of his pants. With boxers sticking to his skin, he jumped into the Toyota before undoing his shirt. Casey was already in, adjusting all the vent fans to aim at the passenger's side.
"'Something-Mill,' huh? You got it." Casey got the Tundra rolling, boosted it as high as was safe in the rest area, and was onto the long frontage road and hit sixty 'way before they reached the freeway. When they did, he popped it up to 70 and settled into traffic.
Cory closed his eyes and thought about his presentation. A little more rest would help, he knew, but he wanted to stay awake so he could figure....
He came awake at a touch on his chest, and sat bolt upright.
"Whoa – sorry," Casey said. "You had a big river of sweat heading for your boxers - I caught it with a paper towel."
Cory nodded. "Where are we?"
"Just reaching the river; you weren't out long." Casey said as he pointed, "River of western exploration, the passageway for Lewis and Clark to the Pacific Ocean."
There was a paddle-wheel steamboat passing by downstream to the west. Cory pointed to it. "I'd rather ride in that," he said.
"And stay in a motel," Casey agreed. "How long till your meeting?"
Cory tapped the dash and the clock came to light. "Um, an hour and five minutes."
"Plenty of time. I know a spot along the way where you can get freshed up for your meeting. You need to get cooled down so you don't walk in sweating."
"How come you're trying to help me so much?" Cory demanded.
"You're helping me right now - my feet are in love with you," Casey flashed a big white grin. "Minute for minute, I'm getting the best of the bargain."
"Like you were going to Estacada," Cory objected.
"I was going... somewhere. Estacada is good for now." Casey shut up after that, and Cory could tell not to ask anything more.
In just a few minutes they'd breezed down I205, pushing the speed limit but only by a little, to their exit. Highway 224 turned out to run through the streets, but Casey seemed charmed as a driver; they never caught a light, and every time their lane slowed Casey popped them into the other and kept on rolling. In ten minutes he was clear of the town, heading into countryside. Cory nodded off again.
He awoke to Casey gently shaking him. "Okay, you had twenty minutes of beauty sleep. It's twenty more minutes to your meeting, and we have thirty-five. Hop out."
Cory did, and came around the pickup to find Casey in nothing but shoes and boxers. They bumped into each other; Casey was heading for his pack. After they laughed about it, Casey grabbed two towels from a big side compartment, and said, "Follow me."
It was a bit of a scramble down the shoulder, then a very short path led to the river. "The hole migrated,” Casey observed. "Upstream." What they arrived at wasn't much of a hole, no more than six feet deep, but it was enough to get wet.
"Strip, and hop in,” ordered Casey. "Ditch all that sweat and heat." Cory would have objected, but when he turned to Casey, all he saw was a bare ass aimed his way - a well-muscled ass, he noted - as Casey set the example and stripped. Then he dove in, a nice shallow dive that confirmed Cory's guess that he was a swimmer. Not to be outdone, Cory swallowed hard, dropped the shorts, kicked off his shoes, and dove.
It was cold. He crossed the deep part to where Casey stood, feet wide, pubic hair just barely under water. Cory put his hands over his crotch when he gained his feet.
Casey laughed. "Never been skinny-dipping before, huh?"
"Um... on a dare, when I was fourteen, in the neighbor's pool."
"All hidden and in the dark, huh? No big deal - but it feels free, doesn't it?" Casey didn't wait for an answer, but launched himself and dove, gliding close enough to the gravel bottom that Cory wondered if he were... dragging at all. From what he'd seen, Casey had a lot to drag. Again not to be outdone, Cory tried to follow suit, but he didn't have the skill and experience; instead of diving, he wallowed, and instead of gliding, he just worked at fighting the current.
He'd slipped and fallen for the second time and was stumbling again when a strong arm slid around his back to steady and support him. "Time's up,” Casey informed him.
"Thanks,” Cory said sincerely. "I swear I'd break my butt if I fell again."
"Can't have that!" Casey laughed. "Unless you can stand up throughout that whole meeting!" Cory had to laugh at that.
On the dry rocks at the side, Casey made Cory stand still, and rubbed him down lightly with a towel, skipping nothing. The soft contact on his genitals made Cory uneasy but also aroused him a little. He heard Casey chuckle, but his passenger said nothing.
"Back to the truck! Now we get you pretty." Casey was as good as his word: he made sure Cory was thoroughly dry before each piece of clothing went on. He snorted at Cory's knot for his tie, then showed Cory how to do what Casey called a "full Windsor". It did look an awful lot better than what Cory had managed. Not finished with that, Casey then went around Cory's shirt, adjusting the tuck to get the pleats and folds just so, and repeated the process with the slacks. He made Cory turn around once, then again, to make final touches.
"Excellent! Now, what what's the address?"
Casey got them to the place with five minutes to spare. When they pulled in, another young guy in suit and tie came out to meet them.
Casey looked the guy over. "You look better. Wait - let me adjust that collar, and your coat.... There - now go make a million."
*****
"You didn't tell me you had a dog,” Casey scolded, when Cory's return woke him from a pleasant nap. "What kind is it, anyway?"
"Miniature hound, boxer and golden retriever. His name's Vagabond." Cory had an odd look on his face.
"I’ll drive,” Casey decided. "You tell me about your meeting. Um, where are we going next?"
"A town called Molalla. Know it?"
"Sure do. And the back way there."
"Kool!"
Cory climbed in, buckled, and started going through a stack of papers he had brought out. Casey remembered a notepad and some sort of leather folder - somehow they'd acquired loose paper. "What's all the paperwork?"
Cory waved him off, muttering. It sounded like he was counting, Casey thought. "You trying to add?"
"Yes,” Cory snapped, "and you made me lose count. I need at least an estimate."
No worries - read me the numbers,” Casey instructed. Cory looked at him a moment, then shrugged. What the heck could it hurt?
"Sixty-nine dollars and forty-eight cents,” he read. "Ninety-eight sixty-eight. Two hundred twelve forty-four. Eighty-eight fifty." Page after page he read.
When he stopped, Casey raised his eyebrows. "That's it?"
"Yeah."
"Three thousand five hundred forty-two dollars and seventy-seven cents."
Cory stared at his new acquaintance. "You added it that fast?! I can't even punch into my calculator that fast!"
Casey shook his head. "I don't add them - I just know. I flunked math a bunch because I knew the right answers, but I couldn't do the work to show how to get them - it just confused me. Then my wrestling coach in middle school realized what was going on, and got permission to let me retake the old tests. I got placed in a different math class, algebra, and loved it.
"Anyway, what's that number?"
"Take eight percent of it."
"Two hundred eighty-three forty-two. Is that your commission or something?"
"No, it's - well, something like that, yeah. I cut a lot of introductory deals on price, so my profit won't be more than maybe four percent, but that put me in bonus territory. Dude, you said 'Go make a million'; well, this is no million, but that's the best I've ever done!"
"With four percent your total would be four-twenty-five thirteen. You have another meeting in Molalla?"
"Yeah. If I do this well again...." Cory's eyes lit up.
"Well, for starters, get out of those clothes again, and fold them nicely. Gotta look your best, right?"
Casey himself was still in boxers; he pulled over, and in a minute they matched.
"How long till your next meeting?" Casey asked.
"Um... hour and forty minutes."
"Sweet - we'll have a half-hour fresh-up stop!"
The 'fresh-up spot' was upstream from a park, around a bend where the river split and the currents had made a deep hole on one side. Again, they stripped and swam.
"Oh, crap - we have visitors." Cory swore. They were lying out after a swim, on towels - stark naked, and at least ten feet from their boxers.
"Chill, dude - it's just skin,” Casey replied. Since he stayed on his back, so did Cory.
Three girls walked over, two of them giggling. They grabbed the two guys' clothes, including keys and wallets, and the other came over to look down at them.
"Trick or treat,” she said, grinning wickedly.
"I see the trick,” Cory replied bitterly. "You throw our stuff in the river. But we don't have any treats."
"Yes you do,” the girl disagreed, licking her lips. The treat would be I get to lick you all over."
Casey spoke up quietly. "What about your two friends?"
"They're not old enough. They won't watch if you want."
There wasn't much for it; he had an appointment to make, and there wouldn't be time for hunting for keys in the rapids. Cory spread his legs and arms in surrender, and closed his eyes. He only opened them once, to see Casey, a big grin on his face, watch as the girl wiggled her tongue up into Cory's left armpit.
When she started to go down on him, he objected. "You said lick - so lick." She made a little pout, but did.
Her finale was licking his ears, as deep as her tongue would go. Moments later he felt boxers, keys, and wallets land on his abs.
"You have a problem,” Casey observed. He reached over and stroked Cory's erection with a finger. "Why did you stop her?"
"I need to be focused for the meeting. After that, I wouldn't have been focused. And you're not helping."
With a laugh, Casey ran his finger along the urethra side of Cory's erection one last time. "Your loss." Cory saw Casey was holding his own erection.
"Um... we should get rid of these,” he said. Casey just laughed again, and they headed back into the crisp water.
*****
"You look like a zombie,” Casey told Cory when the latter emerged from his second meeting. "Bad?"
Cory was spaced enough he started undoing his pants before he got in, then remembered they were still in town, and settled for loosening his belt and tie. "Drive,” he said when he was in.
"Where to?"
"Silverton. One hour."
Casey considered. "No fresh-up spot between here and there."
"I'll manage."
Off they went. "So was it bad? You're like in shock."
"Bad? Not! Casey, there was a guy at the meeting who's just finishing up an apartment building. He got interested when I asked if anyone had any complaints about the water here - someone always complains, and then I make my pitch about our water filters. He's got fifty units - and he ordered a filter system for each one... and not just the basic unit, either!"
"How much are those?"
"Four hundred and twelve apiece,” Cory whispered.
"Twenty thousand six hundred dollars!" Casey exclaimed. "Is that everything?"
"About fifteen hundred more."
"At eight percent?"
Cory shook his head. "I'm up to a twelve percent bonus range now."
"On the earlier part, too?"
"Yep."
Casey whistled. "Dude, your bonus just passed three thousand!"
Cory nodded. "And my profit is about twelve hundred. I usually take a month to make that."
"Heck - let's go do it again!" Casey slapped Cory on the back and hit the gas.
Cory didn't quite do it again: in Silverton he got only enough to increase his bonus by two hundred dollars, and his profit by eighty.
"Now where?" Casey asked, moving Vagabond off his lap when Cory returned.
"Place to crash. Dinner. Movie. Four meetings tomorrow. First one's in Keizer."
Cory was asleep before Casey was even out of the parking lot. Sales, Casey decided, was more work than he'd thought. He pulled over along Silverton Road for a few minutes in the dark, and carefully undid Cory's shirt, loosed his tie, and undid his pants. He knew he didn't sleep well in snug clothes, so he thought it might help his new friend. And since he was thinking "friend,” he refrained from inspecting beneath Cory's boxers, though he bent for a quick sniff.
Silverton Road was highway 213. When it crossed Lancaster Street, that became 213, and Casey followed it. His memories of Salem lacked a lot, but he recalled a cluster of motels and hotels along Lancaster.
He settled on a Best Western with a good sized indoor pool, got them a room with a double bed, parked near it, carried his pack in, and then went back for Cory. Inspiration struck: he turned back to the room, called and order both pizza and fried chicken, and only then went back to the truck.
Cory was awake, being pawed at by Vagabond, and fumbling ineffectually at the door. Casey got it for him, almost getting knocked over as the dog made a quick exit. "He needs to fertilize something,” Cory explained.
"Oops. He licked the back of my neck a couple of times, but I thought he was just being friendly."
"Nope - that's his signal, when we're traveling. He knows not to paw at the driver's arm."
"Smart dog."
"Sure is. Oh, man - did you ask about animals for the room?"
Casey hadn't, but he went and did so. "Ten dollars extra,” he reported.
"I can afford it,” Cory said with a grin. "Now, let’s find food."
Casey pushed him onto the bed. "Already ordered. Giant pizza with Canadian bacon, pineapple, mushrooms and fried chicken. So now, hang those clothes, I'll press them nice for you while you shower." Please, he thought, ask if I'll scrub your back.
"You can dry me again when I'm done,” Cory said over his shoulder just as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Casey's thighs tingled. Small treasures, he thought, are also good.
They were both sprawled on the bed, naked, when the door buzzed. Casey walked calmly to the door and opened it. A kid stood there with a pizza box. "I need you to sign,” he began, then noticed Casey.
Casey looked him over. "I tip good for cute guys,” he announced. "You eighteen?"
"Seventeen." The kid looked puzzled, and nervous.
"Too bad. I give special tips to cute guys who are old enough." He slid his middle finger in and out of his mouth to illustrate.
The kid blushed furiously and repeated the request for a signature. Casey had put it on his VISA; he added a twenty dollar tip, signed, and handed the slip back. As the kid handed him the pizza box, he planted a kiss on his cheek and slipped a five dollar bill in under the top of the kid's pants. The kid fled; Casey stood there in the door and blew a kiss after him.
"I love doing-" Cory was face down on the bed, snoring softly. "Well, mister salesman, I go to all the trouble of putting on a show to see if you get turned on, and you fall asleep on me. Well, you're not going to sleep through dinner!" He set the pizza on the pillow, straddled Cory and rolled him over.
"Din-din, mister salesman,” he chanted. "Wakey-wakey." He let some of his weight rest on Cory's thighs as he reached and pulled out a slice of steaming hot pizza. For a steaming hot Cory, he thought. Cory's chin made a nice resting place for one edge, as he gently blew the aroma toward the sleeper's nose.
Cory stirred. "Smells good - gimme one."
Since there hadn't been a protest about his position, Casey wiggled a bit and settled more of his weight on Cory as he handed over the slice, then got his own. When Cory asked for another, he took the opportunity to lift off, and then scoot farther up the other's smooth, lean body before sitting again. Two more inches, and their balls would be touching.
"You sure aren't bashful,” Cory remarked. "Is this because I scored big sales today?"
"No, it's because I like being with you. Today has been fun."
"Okay. Hey - you know why I'm on the road; why are you?"
"Lost my job." Casey deliberately let a piece of pineapple fall off his pizza; it landed on Cory's left hip bone - Beautiful! Casey thoughts, and bent over and licked it off.
Cory had been stirring a little; that stimulus made the difference, and his penis began to rise. Casey bent down again, and licked at the same spot, like he had missed something.
Just then the door buzzed again.
"Oops - the fried chicken!" Casey rolled off and Cory rolled over. This time Casey wrapped himself in a towel before answering the door.
"What took you so long?" Cory asked when Casey returned.
"I decided to order some of those decadent cinnamon rolls they have, for later." He rolled Cory onto his back again, sat back down on those wonderful thighs, and handed over a drumstick. Cory was still hard, though not totally.
"So why did you lose your job?" asked Cory.
"Can I show you, not just tell you?"
"Um..." Cory had a puzzled frown. "Sure, I guess."
"I got caught with another employee, who happened to be the boss's son, in the back room." He took a deep breath. "Doing this…" This time when he bent forward, he didn't stop, but opened his mouth and sucked in Cory's erection until the head pushed against the back of his mouth. The feel of it, warm and hard, at the top of his throat, was heavenly.
Cory gasped, then moaned. "Casey..."
Casey sucked his way back off, slowly. "The guy who caught us didn't let me finish. I'd really like to, this time."
"Can you deep throat?" Cory asked hoarsely.
"That's my favorite.'
"Then go for it."
Casey went.
to be continued....












