Brock started crying again, and it took me a couple of minutes to get him composed again, before I went and talked to my uncle. The biker didn’t want to press charges, and the bar was happy with a ban and restraining order. He was being extra lenient, since Brock was usually a good kid, but another episode like this, and there’d be trouble. I went back to the cell and told Brock that he’d be getting out, and he didn’t quite seem like he believed me, until my uncle came and unlocked the door.
“Thanks, Hunter,” he said.
“You need to apologize to my uncle too, for the mess you made last night,” I said.
Brock went a bit red in the face, but muttered a curt, apology.
“I don’t think he heard you, and that’s not how you address him, is it?”
Brock looked at me, and I expected him to be a bit angry, but that’s not what I saw–his face was a bit…well, I know what that look means now, but then it just struck me as odd. Then he looked back at my uncle, made eye contact, licked his lips, and said, “Sorry sir, I’m just…a stupid brute is all. I didn’t mean to make a mess. If…or I could…” he obviously wanted to say something else, but his lips went tight and he stopped talking.
“Brock, the whole town knows you aren’t stupid. You just…look, don’t do this again, alright? I’d hate to see you mess your life up kid.”
My uncle gave him a pat on the shoulder, then there was a bit of paperwork after that–and Brock seemed to be a bit flustered and distracted, so I had to help him out with some of it, but within half an hour we were out of the jailhouse, and as soon as we’d gotten into the car, Brock lunged at me in the driver’s seat, and tried to kiss me, but I shoved him back with all my strength. Not that the advances weren’t…wanted, but not there in the jailhouse parking lot.
“Please, sir…I…”
He didn’t know what to say, and with a growl he hauled his own cock out and started jacking off right in my passenger seat, and I could barely believe my fucking eyes. Something was wrong with him, but what? I didn’t know, but at the same time, I admit that I was enjoying the show.
“Just a dumb fuckin’ brute, fuck…stupid fucker…” he muttered to himself as he stroked, “dumb fuckin’ pig, too stupid to do anythin’ right…”
“Brock! Stop for a second, why the–what the fuck is going on with you?”
He wasn’t listening–he just looked at me, and then down at the obvious erection in my jeans, and with one hand reached out and started groping me…and while I told him not to, he could sense what I really wanted. And so there, in the noon sun right in front of anyone walking past my truck, Brock sucked me off for the first time while he jacked off, grunting and moaning and…yeah, it was confusing as all hell, but I didn’t let that stop me from finishing. I came pretty quick, and when he got a taste of my cum, he shot as well, a massive load all over the dashboard, and he pulled off, a big grin on his face–but I’m just…well, I didn’t know what to say, so I muttered a thank you, but I don’t think he heard me.
He was looking at the cum he’d shot all over the dash, licking his lips. “Fuck, sorry sir, I can clean that up,” he said, and started wiping up the cum with his hands and eating it down.
“It’s alright, the truck has seen worse shit,” I said, but he kept on going, obviously enjoying himself. But like a switch, he stopped in the middle of sucking cum from his hand, wiped it off on his shirt, and just…froze, his eyes looking a bit…weepy.
“Brock…are–look, I know something’s wrong, but you gotta talk about it.”
“Sir–I mean, Hunter, I…” he turned away towards the window, and he got…small again, somehow. I felt that same…urge from before, to protect him and take care of him, but it was stronger. “I can’t…it’s part of it.”
“Look, you’ve had a rough day. Do you want to go home?”
Brock shook his head.
“Well, why don’t you come over to my place for a bit then? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
He was torn–hell, I was too, a bit, but I was also…enjoying this in a way I couldn’t quite explain. Nothing else happened that day, or that night when he stayed over, but the sex lingered between us. I could smell it on him, and he kept looking at me, and every time he called me sir…by accident or not–my cock got hard again. I was still having a difficult time believing that this was the same Brock I had known my entire life–he just seemed…so different, in so many ways. I wanted to have sex again, but I knew it wasn’t right. He wanted to have sex again, but was terrified of what that might mean. He left early the next morning to head back to his parent’s place with some sorry excuse in tow–not like his parents, like the rest of the town, hadn’t already heard about his escapade by that point. The town isn’t exactly known for being tight lipped.
Bracken's Corner 