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A week ago, I had the idea of biking from Paducah, Kentucky, to Joplin, Missouri. I had a bike, a cell phone, a pocketful of cash and a plan, but things can change fast on the road. Three days later, I was reduced to my backpack, a broken cell phone, no cash and no bike all thanks to getting rolled by some rednecks in a pickup truck.

I stashed my broken bike somewhere in the woods of the Mark Twain National Forest and hit the road, too afraid of every pickup truck or car that passed me to stick out my thumb. I walked for two days until I reached something close to civilization. It was a small town on the edge of the national forest with a Walmart, one McDonalds, a Sonic Burger joint, a couple gas stations and a hotel.

I knew I looked rough. Those fuckers in the pickup had done a job on me. Only the offer of all the cash in my pocket had prevented a beating. I felt dirty from head-to-toe but at least I wasn't limping anymore. I had tried cleaning up in a stream. Hungry and farther down on my luck than I had ever been in my life, I found myself reduced to panhandling for change in hopes of scoring enough scratch to buy something off the Dollar Menu at McDonald's.

Cutting through the hotel parking lot, I spied a businessman type climbing out of a shiny, black SUV. Desperate, I called out to him, "Hey Mister, spare some change for McDonald's?" The silver-haired man glared at me as he sized me up. Tall and well-dressed, he held his phone up to his ear and shook his head. Dejected, I kept putting one foot in front of the other and kept going, feeling his shameful, judgemental stare as I walked the parking lot hoping to find a quarter or something.

"Hold on," he called out, pocketing his phone. Ducking inside his SUV, he pulled out a McDonald's bag and held it in my direction. "You want this burger?"

I eyed him carefully as I approached. Under different circumstances, he wouldn't think twice about me and I wouldn't think twice about him. He could have been a friend of my father for all the difference in age between us. I gave him a grateful nod as I took the paper sack and dove into it and devoured the Quarter Pounder burger in huge bites.

"Slow down," he chuckled with a hint of a smile on his face as he sized me up. Ducking back into the shiny SUV, he pulled out a bottle of water and passed it over while I shoved french fries into my mouth. "What's your deal?"

Around a mouthful of fries, I explained the basics about getting rolled by a couple rednecks in the forest while biking. I couldn't tell if he believed me or not. I didn't care.

"You want to use my phone to call someone?"

"No one to call," I said, pacing myself with the bottled water. If I only drank half of it now, I'd have the other half for later and a bottle to refill. Realizing that I sounded like a homeless drifter, I quickly amended my story. "I mean, I have people I could call, but it's complicated." It didn't help that my phone was broken, preventing me from getting to any phone numbers. Embarrassed by my predicament, I thanked him for the food and started stepping away.

"Hold on," he said, leaning against his open door with one resting on the lip of the open door. "You really don't have anyone to call? Where are you heading?"

"Joplin."

"Long walk," he noted.

"I keep thinking that if I can find a public library with free computers, I can get someone to send me some money and hop on a bus or something."

"I've got a computer," he said, still eyeing me as if coming up with a plan. "What's your name?"

"Randy," I lied. I don't know why I lied, I just did. There was something about the way he was looking at me that had me feeling uneasy.

A big smile appeared on his face, a salesman smile filled with good teeth and but narrow eyes. "Well, Randy, I think today is your lucky day. I might be willing to help you out if you don't mind helping me out." I watched him fidget with the gold pinky ring he wore as his eyes stayed locked on mine. He grabbed his balls as if he needed a quick adjustment down there before resting his arm on the top of his open car door. "I could be a lot of help if you'd let me."

"How?" I asked, unable to imagine a single way I could help this guy.

"You like blowjobs, Randy?"

"Whoa," I said, taking an involuntary step backward. Was this guy hitting on me? "Thanks for the food, mister." I started turning away.

"Slow down, Randy. Hear me out," he said, holding up his open hands and showing me both of his palms. "I know that's a crazy question, but I'm not the kind of guy who beats around the bush." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a fifty dollar bill and held it up. As I watched, he tore it exactly down the center, right through the portrait of Ulysses S. Grant. "What do you know about money, Randy?" I shrugged, unable to figure out where he was going even as he handed me half of the torn bill. "Here's the thing, that half a bill is worthless without this half and vice versa. Makes sense when you think about it. Give a Tekirova Escort bank half a bill and ask for a new one and they'll laugh at you. Give them a torn bill, though, and they'll happily replace it."

"Yeah, I guess," I agreed, it made sense.

"How far do you think you could get with fifty dollars in your pocket?"

"Pretty far if it was fifty dollars and ride to the bus station."

The tall businessman with the easy-going grin laughed. "You're right! I like you, Randy. You're my kind of people."

It didn't feel that way. What did I have in common with a man like this? Still, I smiled back and let him have that one. I really wanted that other half of the bill, except there was one problem. "I'm not gay."

"Me neither," he laughed. "But in a shithole town like this, more than a hundred miles away from home, a man's got to find his fun wherever he can. What if I told you that you don't need to be gay to earn the other half of this fifty and have some fun at the same time?"

I didn't believe him. I handed him back the half I held. "Keep your money. I don't go that way."

"Hear me out," he insisted, refusing to budge to take the half of a bill from me. "I'm offering you a hot shower, at least one more meal, and we'll even get your clothes washed, too. You don't want to get on a Greyhound bus stinking to high heaven, do you?"

"Not really," I agreed, more tempted by the idea of a hot shower and another meal than the worthless half of money I held in my hand.

"But it's pretty hard for me to trust someone like you, isn't it?" His smile faded and his eyes narrowed as he eyed me again. "I mean, what do I know about you? For all I know, you prey on nice guys like me all the time."

"No way," I gushed, trying to explain. "I've never done anything like this, mister, I promise!"

Still looking grim, he nodded. "I want to believe that, Randy. I really do, but I have to take precautions. I think we could have a lot of fun together and I know I could take good care of you if you'd let me, but . . ." He shoved his half the fifty back into his pocket, shut the door to his shiny black SUV and triggered the door lock. "Tell you what, you keep that worthless piece of paper as a souvenir. Maybe you'll find another piece to match up with it and convince some banker to turn it into a real fifty for you."

"Seriously, dude, you take it," I said, trying to hand back my half a second time as he tried squeezing past me. "I'll make it home okay." He made it as far as the rear bumper of his car before turning back.

Stopping, he took the half a bill from me and looked me up and down again as he pocketed it. His eyes locked on mine as he seemed to reach a decision. "Here's the deal, Randy. You come back to my room, get naked, and I'll make sure your clothes get washed while you take a shower, except you have to let me watch you take a shower and you have to stay naked until your clothes are done washing and drying."

"What about you?" I asked, feeling very uncomfortable with his idea. What kind of pervert was this guy?"

"I'll keep all my clothes on," he promised. "But, if you'll let me, I might be willing to suck your cock, too."

"What do I have to do to you?" I asked, very suspicious. None of this sounded right.

"Nothing at all, except letting me get you off if you want. Hell, you can even use my computer after we're done to get some money sent to you and I might even be willing to give you a ride to a bus station once you're cleaned up and not smelling like shit on a hot day."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" he asked without a hint of a smile or even a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm a man of my word, Randy. Either we do this or we don't, either way, I'm sleeping indoors tonight with a full belly, can you say the same thing?" He held my gaze for a moment longer before shrugging at turning away. I stopped him with three words.

"I'll do it."

Glancing over his shoulder, he told me to follow him.

* * * * * *

Although he had parked in front of the main entrance of the hotel, he led me around to a side door. It made sense when I thought about it later. No way would it look good for him to walk a homeless drifter past the front desk. The small, country hotel had a brand name attached to it and looked remarkably good for a hotel of its class.

I felt butterflies doing dive bombing rolls inside my stomach. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to get naked in front a stranger? What if this guy was some sort of freak? From the backside, he looked like every generic businessman I had ever seen. His shoes were shiny. He wore a sports coat without a tie. I had guessed he was a salesman, but he could have just as easily been a banker or a lawyer or any other kind of white collar drone.

He led me upstairs and stopped in front of a room halfway down the hallway as he pulled out his keycard and turned to me. "Get naked," he said, standing in front of Tekirova Escort Bayan room 211.

"Here in the hallway?" I gasped, looking right and left. The hallway was clear. I could see the windows at both ends.

He nodded. "Get naked and leave your backpack outside the door. I'm not taking any chances."

"You?" I snorted, feeling remarkably vulnerable. "What about me?"

"Life's full of choices and chances, Randy. How about if I try to get behind this door, shut it in your face, and make a call to the front desk about the homeless guy who just shadowed me upstairs? Think I can do that?"

"Whoa, there's no need for that," I said, quickly seeing the peril of that idea. I scanned the hallway again. "What if someone takes my stuff?"

"No one is going to take your stuff except me. You get naked, I open the door, and I carry your clothes down to the laundry while you get in the shower."

"How do I know I won't take your stuff and bolt?"

"Choices and chances," he repeated, sliding the keycard into the lock and holding it open with his backside. Maybe he could make it inside faster than me and maybe he couldn't, either way, I wasn't going to test him.

"Fuck," I muttered, feeling trapped. Even if I balked, what would stop him from calling to the front desk with that lie? I dropped my backpack on the floor and kept glancing up and down the hallway as I pulled off my jeans, t-shirt, shoes, socks, and underwear. I left them all sitting on the floor of the hotel hallway as he pushed the door open and allowed me to scoot past him.

"Back in five," he said, flashing me a happy smile. "And take your time in the shower." As the door snickered shut, I saw him bending over to pick up my clothes. What if he never brought them back?

I glanced around a room much nicer than I would have guessed for its brand. It felt like a little suite with a sitting area that included a TV, desk, coffee table, and sofa. On the other side of a divider sat a big, king-sized bed, another TV, and the bathroom. I saw a laptop sitting on the desk. In the bedroom space sat a single suitcase at the foot of the bed. As near as I could tell, he hadn't done much more than check-in and opened up his computer. Heading to the bathroom, I started the shower and stepped beneath the spray.

As soon as the first blast of water struck my naked body, I saw the water around my feet turning brown from the dirt caked on me. I knew I was dirty, but how did I get this dirty? I took a leak in the shower as I danced beneath the deliciously hot water. Damn, that felt good. Starting with my head, I squirted half of the tiny bottle of hotel shampoo and condition into my hair and marveled again at the amount of caked in dirty that circled down the drain.

I'll admit it, I jumped when he pulled open the shower curtain. "How's it going, Randy?" he asked, sitting on the closed toilet seat.

"Fuck," I laughed, instinctively turning away from him and facing the water. "I didn't hear you coming in."

"Feel good?" he asked as he reached out and caressed my naked ass.

"Yeah," I said, meaning the hot water and not his hand. His hand made me feel a little creepy and humiliated. Gritting my teeth, I didn't stop his caress.

"Turn around," he said. I noticed he wasn't wearing his sports coat anymore, just a short-sleeved Polo shirt. If he cared about the water splashing on him, it didn't show as he put his hands on my narrow hips and urged me to turn. I wasn't surprised when one of his hands moved immediately to my cock and balls. I tried to ignore it as I rinsed the soap from my hair

"Ever have a man do this to you?"

"No," I said as flatly as I could. "You ever do this to another guy?"

"Wouldn't be doing it to you if I didn't know I liked it."

"Are you gay?"

"Not according to my wife, children, or any of the other chicks I've banged."

"So then you're bi, right?" I asked, turning back around to rinse off my front again while his hand explored the curve of my ass and caressed my thighs.

"I'm not much on labels, Randy," he said, reaching between my legs and cupping my balls. "Guess I'm hetero-flexible or something like that."

I'm not sure why that made me feel a little better, but it did. "How long do you think it will take for my clothes to be done?"

"Why? You don't need them."

"I will eventually," I pointed out, worried about what he may have meant by that.

"But not anytime soon."

"I'd like to get back on the road before dark."

"We've got lots of time," he insisted, pulling on my cock and trying to get a rise out of me that wasn't happening. I felt too nervous, too far out of my comfort zone.

"I think I'm done," I said, convinced I was as clean as I was going to get.

"I'll give you twenty bucks if you shave your cock and balls."

"Aw man," I said, rolling my eyes. "Really?"

"What? You've never seen those t-shirts that say 'I'm not gay, but $20 is $20?'"

I Escort Tekirova snorted. I hadn't but that was pretty funny.

"Give me your address and I'll send you one."

"I'm good," I said, turning off the shower as he stepped away. While toweling off, I wondered if I could get away with keeping a towel wrapped around my waist. Probably not, but I could try. A couple moments later, he reappeared in the bathroom with a razor and shaving cream. I rubbed my face, realizing I could use a shave.

"That's not where I meant," he corrected with a grin.

"Make it fifty bucks."

"Let's make it zero dollars, but I really will bring your clothes back to you." He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the door jam, and I realized for the first time how big he was. He filled the space, blocking off any exit. He didn't look menacing, but he didn't look like he was kidding either.

"You shave your balls?" I asked.

"Want to see?" he offered, grabbing at the front of his dress pants.

"Not really," I decided, noticing the large bulge pressing made more obvious inside his pleated pants. "Twenty bucks?"

"Zero bucks, but I bring back your clothes."

Once more, I felt trapped. "That wasn't our deal."

"it's our new deal," he insisted. "If you'd like, I'll do the shaving for you."

"I'm good," I said, picking up the shaving cream and razor from where he had put them on the back of the toilet. I had no idea where to start. "Is there a trick to doing this?"

"Start slow, work your way down from the top of your pubes, and take your time. I usually sit on the edge of the tub so I can use lots of water to rinse out the razor."

"Makes sense," I said, happy to turn my back to him again. It felt weird standing naked in the stranger's hotel bathroom with him eyeing me like that. I sat on the edge of the tub with both feet inside, turned the water on low and lathered up my pubic area. It was harder work than I expected.

My benefactor sat on the closed toilet watching me and we chatted as I did it. He offered a few pointers here and there, but mostly it was a remarkably casual conversation. He asked me about my failed road trip, college, if I had a girlfriend, and what she was like. He asked if I would see her when I got to Joplin and then suggested, "She might like finding you shaved."

"She might wonder why I did it, too," I said, suddenly realizing how difficult it could be to explain why I had shaved off all my pubic hair. I tried asking him questions, too, but he didn't offer many details. He wouldn't tell me where he was from, his name, or even why he was in town.

"I don't think any of that matters, do you?"

"I guess not," I shrugged, working on shaving my balls.

"Don't forget your taint," he said, getting up. He had to explain what he meant by taint. "The part between your legs that taint one and taint the other." Laughing, he left to ostensibly switch my clothes from the washer to the dryer. At least that's what I hoped he was doing. After I finished shaving, I followed his suggestion and rinsed off my lower half. Being shaved down there felt interesting and I couldn't stop running my hand over the freshly shaved area and exploring it. That's what I was doing when he appeared again at the door to the bathroom.

"Here, let me put some lotion on you," he offered, squirting a palmful of lotion from the vanity into one hand. I didn't protest or try to stop him as he smeared the slightly off-white cream across my cock and balls. Much to my surprise and embarrassment, I felt myself growing hard beneath his touch. "Looks good," he said, tugging on my cock and encouraging its growth.

I followed him as he left the bathroom. He gestured towards the sofa. I sat at the far end of it while he sat at the desk and fiddled with the remote on the TV. I watched as he surfed through the paid-per-view section and chose an all-day-pass for the porn section before tossing me the remote and told me to find something I liked. Surprised by the broad selection of titles, I picked one that had the words "amateur" and "college coeds" in the description not realizing I had picked a gang-bang video.

"Your wife know you're into guys?" I asked, feeling awkward sitting naked on the couch with half a hard-on.

"Does it matter?" he asked, giving me another non-answer as he moved from the desk chair and sat next to me on the couch. When he put his hand on my thigh, I tensed. "Relax," he said, moving his hand between my legs. "You're beautiful and I'm going to make you feel really good."

I didn't reply. What could I say? I doubt it? Or, Not likely? Neither felt like a good thing to say. Instead, I kept my eyes on the TV and watched as an attractive girl began undressing in front of a group of five naked guys.

"Interesting choice," he said, still squeezing my cock. "You like watching gang-bang videos?"

"I guess."

"I'm serious, what do you usually watch when you decide to jerk off?"

"I don't know," I said, realizing I had never given it much thought. "I guess it's either something like this or lesbian porn."

"A lot of dicks in gang-bang porn."

"Guess so," I said, having never thought much about it before that moment. "I just like seeing a girl getting her freak on. It's fun, you know?"