Special Delivery

When your deepest, darkest fantasy shows up, get on board.

Sam Keller knows he’ll never find the excitement he craves in Middleton, Iowa—not while he’s busting his ass in nursing school and paying rent by slaving away in a pharmacy stockroom. Then Sam meets Mitch Tedsoe, an independent, long-haul trucker who makes a delivery to a shop across the alley. Innocent flirting quickly leads to a fling, and when Mitch offers to take him on a road trip west, Sam jumps at the chance for adventure. Mitch is sexy, funny, and friendly, but once they embark on their journey, something changes. One minute he’s the star of Sam’s every X-rated fantasy, the next he’s almost too much a perfect gentleman. And when they hit the Las Vegas city limit, Sam has a name to pin on Mitch’s malady: Randy.

For better or for worse, Sam grapples with the meaning of friendship, letting go, growing up—even the meaning of love—because no matter how far he travels, eventually all roads lead home.

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Excerpt

In the deserted men’s restroom at the back of Middleton Community College, Sam Keller knelt on the tile, braced his hands against Keith Jameson’s thighs, and broke his mother’s heart.

It didn’t matter that Sharyle Keller had passed away four years ago. Sam knew his mother would consider what Sam did in the handicapped stall a complete and total mockery of everything she’d ever taught him. Sam being gay wouldn’t have made her upset, and she wouldn’t have cared that he was about to give a blowjob at school and risk expulsion for having sexual congress on campus. What would have upset his mother was how Sam wasn’t at all attracted to his partner, that to be perfectly honest, Sam hated him.

“Sex is beautiful,” Sam’s mother had told him. “Sex is a union between two people. Sex is a merging of souls, a holy connection. Sex is sacred, and it should only be shared with those you love.”

When Sam’s mother had said this, he’d been twelve and horny, but he’d also been scared to death of sex, so when his mother told him he should wait for someone who loved him, he’d nodded eagerly. Yes, he would reserve his body for those who knew the worth of it. Yes, he would learn from her mistakes. He’d signed on for it all, trusting in his mother’s wisdom, wanting to be safe and wanting to please her too. After all, wasn’t he lucky to have a mother who looked forwardto meeting his boyfriends? His mother had hoped he’d want to adopt or hire a surrogate to have his child someday because she’d be more than happy to babysit. It seemed such a little, easy thing for him to promise her he would give himself in love.

However, even before he’d realized what an incredible dearth of loving male partners there were in Middleton, Iowa, Sam struggled with his vow. His mother found him gay support groups and sex-tip sites online, but Sam found the porn. He’d lost days in the images of beautiful, slender men bent in submission and sometimes degradation, and to his quiet horror, he realized this was his fantasy: he wanted to be used. He wanted to be loved and cherished, yes. But he also wanted to be fucked. Sometimes he didn’t want it to be about love. He wanted it to be about sex, and about semen, and about not quite exactly being in control. He didn’t want to get hurt, no. But he admitted to himself he wanted to come really, really close.

As he swirled his tongue around Keith’s shaft and looked up at the blond boy’s unshaven chin, Sam acknowledged he’d have been a lot happier if he could have found a Keith at sixteen instead of twenty-one. He’d fucked Darin Yarvin his senior year of high school, but that was nothing more than a weekly appointment to kneel on a pizza box in Darin’s dirty apartment and take it up the ass. Blowing Keith flirted with so many taboos, Sam got himself off just thinking about upcoming encounters.

Keith was straight. He wasn’t bi. He wasn’t in the closet. He wasn’t even curious. He simply enjoyed having his dick sucked as much as Sam took pleasure in doing it. He was a big, buff boy, a small-town Iowa ideal, and it was Sam’s fondest wish for this ideal young man to bend him over one of the toilets and bury himself so deep inside Sam he’d see stars. Sam didn’t want to kiss him. He didn’t want to hold him or take him on a date. In fact, outside of arranging their sexual appointments, they didn’t speak to one another. The only conversation they had was the one they were having now, where Keith asked Sam if he wanted him to shove his big fat dick into his throat, to fuck his mouth, and Sam agreed yes, very much please, and thank you.

“You like sucking my cock, don’t you, bitch?” Keith would say, and Sam would nod, and shut his eyes, and let the incredible sluttiness of the experience wash over him in dark, beautiful waves until he thrust himself onto Keith as hard as Keith pushed into him, sucking so intensely he hurt his cheeks, moaning along with Keith as he cried out and exploded, hot and thick and salty into Sam’s open, waiting throat. Sometimes Keith kneaded Sam’s hair as he swallowed, which Sam enjoyed, but it was an unconscious gesture, and if Keith caught himself doing it, he stopped and pushed Sam away.

This more than anything else would have upset his mother, that he would know only such a fleeting bit of tenderness and from such a crude, cruel partner.

 

Keith’s abrupt removal today had left one last trail of semen to drizzle over Sam’s chin, and he wiped it away with his fingers and reached for some toilet paper. Keith watched him, but when Sam met his gaze, Keith looked away as he buttoned himself up.

 

Sam waited, remaining on his knees. This part was always the trickiest, and he held still, lowering his eyes, letting Keith decide when they were finished. If Keith had more abuse to hurl, he’d take it, because the last thing he needed was Keith nervous. Keith had to feel strong and satisfied and a little superior so he would want to do it again, which was what Sam wanted him to want. It wasn’t ideal, but in its own way, it worked. So he waited, docile, until Keith spoke.

 

“You gonna suck it next Wednesday?”

 

Sam kept his head ducked to hide his smile, and he nodded. He held still until Keith exited the stall, and he stayed on his knees until Keith left the restroom altogether. Then he rose, adjusted his own erection in his pants, and went to the bathroom sink to wash his hands.

 

Sam regarded his reflection in the mirror as he lathered soap across his palms. His mother’s face stared back at him, slender and pretty, brown hair tousled around large, dark eyes. The only differences were the length of his hair and the shape of his jaw and his chin, which in addition to being slightly more defined than his mother’s, sported the tiniest spattering of beard stubble. In his own face, he saw the face he loved so much, the face he had assumed, naively, would be around for a long, long time. He looked into its echo now, remembering what he had done. He acknowledged what she must think of him, and his heart grew heavy.

“Sorry, Mom.”

 

He wiped the last bit of Keith’s semen from his chin and went to class.

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