Jake cut off his Harley’s engine, booted down the kick-stand and gave me that ‘come hither’ look. I hesitated and got up from the bus stop bench. I didn’t want to go to home. Not after the fight we’d just had. I looked around at the dusty, abandoned streets of the little Texas town, lighted only by the lampposts shining their amber light in the still night. If only I’d had a couple more bucks on me, I could have run further. There was nothing living in site. I figured there wouldn’t be another bus til morning. And I knew Jake was just stubborn enough to sit there on his bike all damn night. He was still staring at me, waiting for me to come to him. I was still angry, and hurt. I didn’t want to give in to him. But how was I to resist those Mario Lopez dimples of his? I couldn’t help it. I was his. He knew it. I knew it. There was no way around that. I walked over to him and, still atop the bike, Jake reached out, wrapped his fingers around my neck and pulled me in. He wrestled my lips into submission with his own, then held me pinned down for the full ten count. He reached down and grabbed my bulge, massaging me to a full erection. I could smell gasoline vapors and the subtle odor of burnt oil wafting through the air around his bike. The area was warm. I couldn’t tell if it was heating up from Jake’s hog’s hot engine, or if my temperature was rising because I was now rubbing Jake’s thick cock through his leather riding pants. In a moment, we were each unzipping each other and pulling free our lover’s respective cock. I always felt so emasculated in Jake’s presence. His timber of a pole made my wee little prick look like swizzle stick. I bent over and sucked him atop his bike while he stroked me. His dick tasted sweaty and raw, traced with his musky odor from having been cramped up inside sweltering black leather pants all day. He squirmed as I massaged his balls. Poor things must have been aching from the vibrations of this powerful rocket Jake had had running between his legs for the past hour. I couldn’t believe he’d caught up with me here all the way from San Antonio. He could be pretty determined. I guess that’s part of what I loved about him. I was so focused on Jake’s cock riding up and down my throat that I almost didn’t realize how close I was to finishing. I came first, shooting my wad out all over the smooth, thick, black leather wrapped around Jake’s bulging, muscular thigh. I worked him over with my mouth until he reached an orgasm of his own. I swallowed his thick, clammy seed with pride. I loved swallowing with Jake. It felt like was consuming a part of him. Like it would somehow strengthen our connection for me to have a little part of him inside me. With our cocks still flopping in the cool, late night breeze, I threw my leg over the saddle behind him, smearing my limp, cum-soaked dick into the ass of his jeans while I snuggled up around the only man I’d ever loved. Jake fired up the Harley, kicked back the stand and shot off down the road, heading home. As we rode along the vacant highway, I realized that I wasn’t angry anymore.