Bullheaded

ignoring the shreds that stuck to him, put himself away, and zipped up.
    “You top?”
    “Huh?”
    “You fuck? With a dick like that, you should top.” The man stood up to arrange his clothing. “Maybe we could fuck next time.”
    “Uh, thanks.” With that, Johnny bolted out of the stall and grabbed for his kit, suddenly anxious to get away without any more conversation.
    He heard the man calling after him, “I come here every Wednesday.”
    Good to know , Johnny thought. He’d make sure to never come here on a Wednesday again, not that he’d be on this highway next week. He hoped the guy cleaned off his shoes before he left, and realized maybe it wasn’t that hard to find action after all. Cody was right about that, as he was about so many things. Just not all, Johnny reminded himself.
    He walked back to Vern’s truck fast, not wanting the guy to follow and see where he went. Vern was sitting inside smoking with the door open, and it annoyed Johnny that the interior light would attract attention to them in the darkened lot, especially from the guy who’d just serviced him. When he got in and stowed his kit, he had a sudden moment of alarm when he wondered if he smelled of sex. Even Vern had to jack off sometimes, though. A man had needs. Johnny decided to ignore it if he did smell, and trust that the smoke of the cigarette would cover it up.
    “All set?”
    “Yeah, sure,” Johnny lied. Now that he was sitting down, his thighs felt weak. And he hadn’t brushed his teeth. He’d have to make sure to do a good job in the morning to make up for the neglect, but maybe it was worth it. He wasn’t quite sure yet.
    Vern got out and shut his door, making the dome light go out. “I usually sleep in the camper. I think I have an extra blanket by me. Tomorrow we’ll find an army-navy store and you can buy a sleeping bag. G’night.”
    Cautiously, Johnny crawled into the back after Vern and turned to stare out the back window. The businessman emerged from the restroom and stood staring around as if Johnny might be waiting for him outside. Then he got into a Mercedes CLS and headed out onto the highway. Johnny watched the red taillights as long as he could see them, and then he closed his eyes and slept.
    It wasn’t ’til the next morning that he found the one hundred dollar bill the man had apparently stuffed into his back pocket while grabbing his ass. Even though it made him angry, he had to laugh. Maybe if the bullfighting didn’t pan out, he had another line of work to fall back on. Lying on the unforgiving truck bed while making sure he didn’t brush up against Vern made him miss sleeping with Cody. It was the first night in a long time he’d spent alone, not counting Vern snoring six inches away from him. At least he could afford a sleeping bag.

    C ODY almost felt sorry for the young guy. Almost. It had been therapeutic to fuck his face that way, jamming his cock down the boy’s throat until he came. He’d said up front, no recip, so he felt no guilt about zipping up and walking out right after he came, leaving the boy naked and with a hard-on, spread across the bed, dangling his head back over the edge of the mattress. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but what had happened to Cody wasn’t fair either.
    The boy’s voice was hoarse from Cody’s cock as he asked, “Can we do this again?”
    It felt cruel to say no thanks, but it would be worse if he’d said yes. He had nothing to give the boy and hadn’t even cared enough to find out his name. The savagery of the encounter scared him, and had opened a door to a dark place Cody didn’t even know he had inside.
    There was no feeling of intimacy as there had been when he made love to Johnny. This was nothing more than animal release. He needed it so he couldn’t regret that he’d done it, but as he shoved his cock down the guy’s throat, images rose uncalled for and unwanted before his eyes: Johnny’s shiny dark hair swinging, the slim, strong body, the sound of his gasps, the taste of him, the smoothness of his skin.
    It blinded Cody to the blond beauty of the young man whose throat he’d brutalized, and for that he did feel guilty. The guy wasn’t only a mouth, a tongue, a throat; he was someone who should be known.
    But not by him.
    As Cody drove back to the ranch, passing his parents’ house and going directly to the bungalow where Johnny didn’t live anymore, what was really bothering him struck him.
    In the images of Johnny that haunted