Chapter 175 - CHAPTER 3 - CURT'S JOURNEY

The rarely used old highway stretched out endlessly, shimmering from the intense heat as Curt pressed the accelerator of his late model Toyota to 95 miles an hour trying to race through the final 200 miles of his journey to a new job and home. He was trying to eat up the miles on this old highway shortcut that was suggested to him by the attendant at an old run down gas station he had to stop at to fill up some 10 miles back.

After driving over 100 miles already on the freeway Curt was bored and tired of the long drive, rapping his fingers impatiently on the arm rest.

For the past 15 minutes his I-Phone stopped working and he remembered the gas station attendant telling him cell phones wouldn't work for the next 80 miles or so. Wonderful Curt thought sarcastically. So no music for the next hour - he never downloaded any to his phone which he just bought a few days earlier. He didn't think to bring any CDs to play in the car's player - and the radio just had static.

The road stretched for miles and miles with virtually no other cars passing by and none behind him. Curt had never driven on this old highway before. Outside the afternoon sun was blistering heating the valley to 104 degrees with high humidity. The handsome 22 year old youth was getting worried about his car's AC - it seemed to be going on and off for the last 30 minutes - and he started hearing a slight weird noise from the engine. His car had needed some minor repairs before he decided to move from his apartment to take a job almost 200 miles away. But this noise was different. He hadn't heard it before - and he was really good about noticing things like that about his car.

That noise started happening after he filled up at that old gas station at the junction of the freeway and old highway.

The station at first looked like it was closed and had a run down appearance that clearly was not your modern gas station with a mini-store. No, it was more like those rickety two pump gas stations in the desert that you would see in those horror movies where a car full of teenagers would roll in acting stupid before getting killed, Curt thought.

The attendant looked to be in his late 40's, overweight and while greasy looking he seemed to Curt harmless enough. The heavy set man lumbered out of the small air conditioned room with a small dirty couch and recliner chair that served as a place for the attendant to rest and wait until the next customer. Seeing Curt out of the car next to the pump, the man quickly walked over to the boy, who was ready to remove the gas pump handle.

He told Curt this wasn't a "self serve" station and that he would pump the gas for him. He also mentioned that he would also check his oil and water under the hood - services that Curt didn't expect at a station like this - or actually any station anywhere. At first Curt was going to decline, thinking he might charge him extra, but the older man said there was no charge - it was just part of the job.

"You wanna make sure your fluids are right, especially the coolant in this heat young fella," the gas attendant said. He pointed to the back of the station when Curt asked where the restroom was "it's way in the back there...on the other side of the building. There's a soda machine in the office in front there young fella," the man said pointing now to the small room he just came from.

Curt c.o.c.ked his head slightly at the phrase "young fella", which he hadn't heard very much before, but murmured "thanks man" and slowly trudged off to the restroom in the back of the station.

For some reason Curt felt the man staring at him as he walked away, but when he turned around to look back, the attendant seemed busy working on Curt's car. Oh well, must be the heat getting to me Curt thought as he turned to walk to the restroom, scratching his damp armpit.

He walked slowly along the dirt pathway trying not to get his Vans dirty. The pathway went from the front the station to the surprisingly long width of the building, and then on to the side of the back where the restrooms were. He turned the corner and was surprised to see a large forbidding barnlike structure with giant doors that were chained shut. The structure was hidden by a clump of trees that hid it from the front area of the station. It couldn't be seen directly from the road either. The old building seemed to serve as a garage or something, judging from the packed dirt driveway leading from the barn-like doors to the main road, but it looked abandoned.

Strange, Curt thought, but he felt another wave of heat and humidity and the thought passed quickly. He trudged on the dirt pathway to the back of the station, reaching the metal white door of the men's restroom.

Curt held his breath expecting a rush of foul smells - the usual condition of restrooms of rundown old gas stations like this. But the restroom, though not air conditioned and like an oven inside, didn't have a bad odor at all, and to Curt's surprise was very clean, well lit and modern. It seemed totally out of place for this gas station, but Curt didn't give two seconds about that, being just surprised and happy that he didn't have to contend with a stinking filthy bathroom.

Even though he was outside from his air conditioned car just for the past few minutes, the oven like heat and humidity already caused his t-shirt and jeans to become extremely damp with his heavy perspiration, making him feel uncomfortable.

He stood at the urinal, taking out his 7 inch limp uncut tube of meat, pulling his foreskin back a little and pissed while scratching the back of his head, wishing he was in his old apartment pool. His d.i.c.k felt sweaty and sticky on his fingers from the intense heat and humidity and hated feeling that way. Shaking the last dribbles of piss from his c.o.c.k as he always did Curt then in an absent minded way, stroked the flaccid d.i.c.k a few times, the sweat providing some l.u.b.r.i.c.a.t.i.o.n, liking the feeling, wishing that there was some girl around to f.u.c.k.

Curt hadn't f.u.c.k.e.d in three days since he had a twosome with two hot girls who lived in the same apartment complex. That was unusual for Curt to go without s.e.x that long. He noticed his d.i.c.k a little more longer and flaccid and his balls hanging more loose and further down in his scrotum as it always did when it was hot or in a Jacuzzi. He liked that effect, but he hated this heat - especially the humidity. He sighed and stopped stroking, stuffing his slightly engorged p.e.n.i.s back into his boxer b.r.i.e.f.s and jeans. He sniffed his fingers for a second, and was revolted by the intense male genital sweaty odor and reminded himself that he would definitely need to take a long hot shower before he hooked up with any girl tonight.

He walked over to the sink, turning on the cold water, which was warm, and washed his hands thoroughly. He looked at the surprisingly clean mirror and then threw water on his face and ran his wet fingers through his sweaty head of short brown hair and saw how damp his t-shirt now was from the heat and humidity. His jeans and boxer b.r.i.e.f.s too, but there was nothing he could do about that right now.

He picked up his t-shirt and rinsed it under the running water and then twisted the cloth several times wringing it out. He smelled the shirt noting that at least it didn't smell as sour with his sweat as before, and then stuck a part of the end so the shirt hung from the back of his jeans.

He looked in the mirror, using his hands and fingers to comb his short hair in place, and thinking that all in all he looked pretty good for a f.u.c.kin awful day like this. The reflection in the mirror showed a young handsome man, with sharply defined muscled pecs crowned by quarter-sized salmon colored n.i.p.p.l.es, with an impressive 8 pack abs and flat stomach centered by a concave belly button. He lazily flexed both arms and torso staring back at the mirror for a second, before slapping his stomach and using another towel to dry off his armpits again.

"You need a f.u.c.kin shower dude," Curt said to himself looking one more time at the mirror, stretching his muscled arms up yawning.

He remembered that there were plenty of hot girls at his new job - and he couldn't wait to drop by when he arrived later tonight and pick one up for a long f.u.c.k session. Curt felt pretty horny, but knew his looks could get him any girl, and smiled at himself in the mirror, flexing his muscled torso, grabbed his crotch to adjust his junk and then opened the door, somewhat refreshed, walking out with a little bit of his usual frat boy type swagger back to his car. Yeah, he'd get some p.u.s.s.y tonight for sure - that would be his reward for this long f.u.c.kin drive, he thought.

The overweight gas attendant, finished with Curt's car, was standing next to the pump looking at the shirtless boy approach slowly from the restroom, as if he knew when he would come out. He seemed to Curt to have an odd smile, almost a smirk which vanished quickly.

"Pretty hot inside that bathroom. Sorry we don't have air conditioning," the gas station attendant mentioned to Curt. For a second Curt thought the attendant seemed to be zeroing in on his b.a.r.e c.h.e.s.t - though it was hard to tell for sure because he was now wearing sun glasses.

He told Curt he added just a half quart of oil and some coolant - on the house. Curt grinned - the first break he's had in this long trip so far, thanking the man, and paid him in cash for the gas. Curt normally would have used his debit card but the man said his card reader didn't work. Lucky for Curt he had the $32 in cash to pay for the gas, taking the money out of his wallet from his jeans. He apologized that the bills were slightly damp from his sweat, "sorry...you know the heat....".

"Don't bother me a bit as long as its real money," he said smiling a little, taking the money and putting the wad of bills in his shirt pocket. He seemed to Curt to be staring intently at his shirtless c.h.e.s.t and stomach.

"You got a nice build there young fella. You an athlete or something?" the attendant asked, looking at Curt through his sun glasses rather intently.

"Uh...thanks...uh...yeah...college wrestling...." Curt replied, though not sensing anything odd about the attendant's remark. Curt knew he did look good, like a professional athlete. The gas station attendant - middle aged , overweight and out of shape, was just being nice and maybe even envious, Curt thought. Well, he got a lot of that type of reaction in college from other people. Find authorized novels in , faster updates, better experience, Please click <a href="#&apos;s-journey_49133477316059000">#&apos;s-journey_49133477316059000</a> for visiting.

Still, the attendant did seem to be staring at him a little longer than what would be considered polite, Curt thought. On the other hand, this station probably got only occasional visits from passer-bys off the freeway, being several miles from it. I'm probably the only customer this guy will have all day Curt thought who remembered he would have passed up the place himself if he wasn't on empty and didn't see the run-down sign off the freeway.

The attendant asked where Curt was headed - and then mentioned that the old highway - pointing in the opposite direction of the freeway - would cut his travel time by at least 45 minutes "more depending on how fast you drive young fella. I drive that all the time and save at least that time and more. Its fast and safe - no highway patrol and almost no other drivers either," he said. "There's a small little town down that highway some. It's a fast drive young fella."

Curt, who hated to drive and dreaded how far he still had to go, lit up on hearing about the short-un-cut. He had never driven on the old highway before - but he could see from the gas station it was still a functioning road. It dipped and then rose and went straight down the valley as far as the eye could see. Forty-five minutes was huge. But with still nearly 200 miles still to go, Curt was open to anything that would cut down the travel time and seemed to the old man eager to take the old highway short un-cut.

"Really? Straight down the highway? Forty-five minutes - man, that's incredible!"Curt remarked, staring at the long straight road - and then turned around and looked at the freeway and then back again at the old highway. Like most younger people who depended on Google maps for directions to get anywhere, Curt's own sense of direction on the road was almost non-existent unless he was extremely vigilant about following the road signs. He thought for a second, scratching his head, turning again to look at the freeway in the distance and then again at the old highway stretching out.

The overweight attendant just stared at the shirtless boy as Curt shifted his weight from one hip to the other, showing more of his u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r waistband, trying to decide. Curt thought he heard the man sigh as he turned to look at him.

The thought vanished as Curt looked back at the man, coming to a decision.

"Never took that highway before. But I'll take your word for it...I mean you're from here and you know. Yeah, I'll definitely take it. I'll bet I'll get there in an hour if I go 90. Thanks man!" Curt said, turning and then bending to pick up his keys that he dropped on the floor of his car. As he did, the dark blue waist band of his boxer b.r.i.e.f.s were exposed riding high over his tight skinny jeans damp from his sweat clinging to his skin. Curt noticed the old man seemed to be staring even more intently at him.

The gas station attendant smiled slightly, nodded, and just nodded, saying "that short cut will save you lots of time. Drive carefully now young fella" and just continued to look in Curt's direction. There was something about his look. It wasn't threatening or creepy. Curt searched his mind and realized the look was similar to the look his dad got. Was it the look he gave when he fished? No. Then he remembered - it was the look he got when he hunted. When he spotted a deer. Well his dad was also an alcoholic drug addict, so what does that mean? The gas attendant dude doesn't see people much here and that makes him stare at people. Well, maybe he's a hunter too Curt wondered, but then quickly dismissed any further thought as the heat and humidity seemed to rise.

He jumped into his car, carefully laying out his damp t-shirt that he rinsed in the restroom on the seat to dry out and then turned to politely half wave at the attendant, as he drove a little away from the station lot gas pumps.

The attendant watched the car reach the road, as it paused, idling. The boy inside seemed to vacillate for second or two about which direction to go, even though he said he would take the old highway shortcut. Another few seconds and Curt's car still paused, the boy looking back at the freeway and then again at the old highway. Another few seconds went by, and the gas station attendant could see the boy looking down, as if reading something, looking up, briefly again looking back at the freeway, and then again at the old highway. A few more seconds went by as the boy stared straight ahead as if in thought.

Suddenly the Toyota quickly turned left, speeding onto the old highway instead of the freeway.

The old man still stood outside, staring at the car and the young handsome man in it, breathing now a sigh of relief. The old man wasn't 100% sure the boy would take his unsolicited advice about the old highway short-cut. Seemed like a skittish colt the gas attendant thought. Could have gone either way. But he didn't. They almost never do. He stared at the car speeding down the old highway, now just a speck miles away. He smirked, looking at his watch, and then grinned.

He turned to head back to the small office room to make a phone call.

As Curt sped down the straight highway, he wondered briefly if that old gas station attendant was a faggot. He stared at Curt's body like the way a dude would look at a hot chick. Well, Curt couldn't be totally sure because the attendant was wearing dark glasses. Maybe, Curt thought, he was just being paranoid after what happened at his apartment complex two days before.

His quick decision to move was in large part because of the discovery two days earlier that his neighbor in the upstairs apartment had been stalking him, taking pictures and videos of him and God knows what else.

That guy two days earlier peeked over his second floor apartment balcony looking down on him, Curt remembered, as he lay passed out on his patio recliner n.a.k.e.d - the only time he ever did that - after drinking too much. The freak was taking video and pictures of his nude body until one of his digital cameras fell below on Curt's c.h.e.s.t, suddenly waking him. Curt cursed the guy out who backed away from his balcony.

Curt kept his camera and then discovered to his disgust thousands of pictures and short video clips of him that dated from the past several months. Nearly all of him shirtless. Laying out near the apartment pool or working out in the rec room or walking around the complex. Or lying in his patio catching some rays. Some photos focused close-ups of his b.u.t.t or crotch. Short videos of his scratching his junk or b.u.t.t. Pictures and short video of Curt getting out of the Jacuzzi showing his swim trunks clinging to his body showing the outline of his a.s.s and genitals. It was frightening to think that someone had followed him around for so long. Curt couldn't believe it. His neighbor - that creep - had stalked him for months. Maybe longer. Maybe he had other cameras. What the f.u.c.k, Curt thought in disbelief, enraged again that his privacy was so violated.

True, he had been thinking of moving to take the job for a couple of weeks now but discovery of that freak upstairs stalking him - in Curt's view - forced a quick decision to relocate. His decision came so fast that he left packing only the clothes he would definitely need, including a week's change of u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r and socks, shoes - leaving the rest of his things to be moved at the end of the month. He didn't have many things to begin with, living rather sparingly as a college student. He didn't want to spend one more day than necessary in that apartment or the apartment complex knowing that guy was there and could be taking pictures of him or snooping on him.

Still, after being outraged at the invasion of his privacy and creepiness of being stalked and having photos and videos taken of him without his knowledge, a tiny part of Curt was sort of flattered - though he didn't admit that to himself. It was a guy after all who was stalking him - a faggot - and Curt certainly was not. What was his name? Neil? Norbert?

Now speeding down the old highway, already ten miles away from the gas station, Curt thought about that gas station attendant staring at his c.h.e.s.t - and then remembered all those pictures on the camera taken by Noah. He was amazed how much that guy was infatuated with his body. Some of the pictures Curt thought he actually might keep - they were pretty good shots of him shirtless showing his muscles and didn't look posed - which of course none of them were.

He wondered for a second what that guy would have wanted to do to him. That freak probably wanted to suck him off. Or maybe wanted Curt to punk his faggot a.s.s - or worse maybe he wanted to f.u.c.k Curt's b.u.t.t. F.u.c.k NO! Not a chance that Curt would have ever let that happen. Not for money. Not for anything. Never. The very thought of another guy touching him or s.u.c.k.i.n.g his d.i.c.k - or Curt doing any of those things to another guy was totally incomprehensible and repulsed him.

Besides, he got enough action to take care of his needs from chicks. Even the ugliest girl would be better. He would never seek or want another dude to touch him. Ever. No way another guy could get him off or get him hard. F.u.c.k that.

Still, as he sped down the old highway - not another car in sight in either direction, Curt frowned to himself looking at himself in the rearview mirror. He couldn't believe how much that guy in the upstairs apartment was so infatuated with his body. All those pictures of him shirtless, focusing on his junk. His junk. His a.s.s. F.u.c.k. The dude f.u.c.kin worshiped my body and probably wanted to suck me off. Sick. Sick. F.u.c.kin obsessed. More than any of the girls he f.u.c.k.e.d. Well, glad to be away from him Curt thought. What a freak. And then Curt looked down for a second at and realized his bulge in his jeans seemed to become more engorged and larger. Shit, he thought. I f.u.c.kin boned thinking about this sick shit. He rubbed it as if to reassure his straight d.i.c.k that he understood. I f.u.c.kin need some p.u.s.s.y bad he m.o.a.n.e.d to himself.

His thoughts were suddenly jarred by a sudden noise from the engine, wisps of smoke from the hood and the red engine light flashing on his dashboard.

"F.u.c.k!!!!" he yelled to himself in the car, as he drove the sputtering vehicle over to the side of the highway.