Best Gay Erotica 2015 by Rob Rosen

Author:Rob Rosen [Rosen, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press Start
Published: 2015-01-12T22:00:00+00:00

Outlaws and Bad Men

Kenzie Mathews

I was hitching on the wrong side of the Mississippi when he picked me up in a black 1970 Chevy Impala that’d seen much better days. I looked up and down the road. The Impala was the first car I’d seen in hours since leaving the country gas mart. Chances were slim to none that I’d get a better ride. He reached over to open the door; I glanced inside. He was clean-cut, J-Crew-model pretty, with sandy blond hair cut short, small square-rimmed glasses, strong classic nose and cleft chin. Not my typical hustle, no, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Something nineties-rock and growly played on the radio. That decided it for me. I got in, seeing as I got myself a real hard-on for American grunge and metal. Brings around good memories—and I’ve been finding good times most rare these days. The Impala roared down the empty country highway. Neither of us said where we were going, then again I guess it didn’t really matter in the long run.

In any case, I figured I could at least get a meal out of him, maybe even a decent fuck and a shower. God knew I needed both. I pulled the visor down to check the mirror. You’d think it’d come to naught but some of those old folktales are just made up. In other words, the mirror gave me a reflection: a man with silvery ghost eyes darkly rimmed, shoulder-length greasy blue-black hair, angled bone face, pale skin and a fetching mouth all looked back at me.

Ah, yes, the road could get nasty, the nights tacky and long, but still those incubus looks would always help me along. And if you should miss something necessary the next day, say your wallet or your wedding ring or maybe a pint or two, well, there was always the memory of my capable mouth and long, thick cock to persuade you to leave the cops out of it.

“Chase,” my driver eventually informed me. I grinned at him. “Lochlan.”

He glanced my way, startled. “Irish?” “Yeah.”

“Are you here on a work visa?”

I chuckled. “Somet’ing like that.” My accent had nearly gone with age, but like me, always managed to barely hang on.

Chase was silent only a moment, one hand tapping the wheel. “Did it expire?”

I looked out the window, closing my eyes for a short lie-down. “Dunno.” I exhaled. “You a cop or somet’ing?”

Now it was his turn to chuckle, like a small rumble in his chest, just as sleep was overtaking me. “Uh-huh,” he replied, “something like that.”

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