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Trailer Trash

By Temple Madison


Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

Visit jms-books.com for more information.


Copyright 2018 Temple Madison

ISBN 9781634865975

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.


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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

Trailer Trash

By Temple Madison

Prologue

With his pampered rich boy’s feet wrapped in the rich, soft suede of his Mezlan Wingtip oxfords, Dezi Falconi stomped down on the accelerator of his new car and flew down the narrow black ribbon of the long Texas road. He sped up one hill and down another, and then he jerked his steering wheel back and forth as he rounded curve after dangerous curve, taking his life in his own hands.

Damn! He loved the way his new MX-5 Miata convertible handled. His father had presented it to him for his twenty-seventh birthday, so he took it out to see it perform, and now with a smile on his face, he watched the hills, trees, and country roads whiz past him while he felt the wind in his face.

Freedom!

That was what it was all about.

He knew he was taking chances driving at breakneck speed, especially on these winding roads, but it was okay. He was just breaking in his new car. Everyone did it. And then, just as he rounded a curve, he saw some kind of shabby-looking structure located way back from the road that made him stomp on his brakes and come to a screeching stop.

To see better, he hoisted himself upon the back of the car seat squinting through a pair of binoculars at what he thought was some kind of broken down shack.

My God, it’s a trailer!

As Dezi kept staring, he saw a beefy young man come out of the shaky front door drinking what looked like beer. He was dressed in ragged cutoff jeans, a thin, tattered half-shirt, and cowboy boots. As he looked him up and down, one name came to mind—trailer trash.

What the hell was this trailer trash doing making himself comfortable on his father’s land and guzzling beer as if he owned the place? It was his father’s land, wasn’t it? To make sure, Dezi moved his gaze away quickly, raking it over the familiar highway, the trees and the brush, and even the wide open spaces of tall grass that stretched into the distance and waved in the warm breeze. It was wide, long, and flat. This typical Texas land that he saw every day was valuable property that was connected to the ground his father’s mansion sat on.

The bastard’s a trespasser!

From the corner of his eye, he saw movement, returned his gaze to the trailer trash, and noticed the loose way this guy moved. He might be dirty, he might be poor, and he might be nothing but trailer trash, but God, he was sexy.

The longer Dezi watched him, the more he realized that it didn’t seem to matter to this guy that he was dirty and poor as a church mouse, his body language cried out long and loud that he didn’t give a rat’s ass. Dezi slowly maneuvered his car onto the shoulder, got out of it, and leaned against the fender watching him. As he stood there, he became almost mesmerized. He could feel a definite craving and a swelling of his cock as he stared at this trailer trash’s overt sexiness. He continued to watch him strike a match with a fingernail, real cool-like, and then touch it to his cigarette between two fingers, drink the sweaty beer without a coaster, and prop his feet on a plastic egg carton. Since they were probably about the same age—no, scratch that. This guy couldn’t be over twenty-five. Hell, he might even be younger than that. He looked like nothing but a dumb kid. When Dezi was twenty-five—well, he wouldn’t go into that since this kid’s life was nothing like Dezi’s. Still, he couldn’t help comparing them. This guy lived in squalor, but Dezi had his own penthouse apartment in downtown Austin, and while this guy probably ate anything he could find, Dezi ate steak.

Dezi noticed that the sorry-looking trailer parked behind this blond-haired beefcake had just about seen its best days. There was more rust than paint, and if a strong wind came this way, the damned thing would be lying on its side. Just then the trailer trash looked up, and their eyes met. The cold look in his eyes told Dezi that he knew why he was there. Dezi knew the type. Guys like him lived for the moment, and at this moment he was saying to Dezi that he was damned tired of people who thought they were better than him. He was what he was, and if they didn’t like it, they could damn well be on their way. While that silent message sank deep into Dezi’s psyche, the trailer trash sat drinking beer, taking long drags off his cigarette, and daring Dezi, with those piercing eyes, to come closer.

Dezi decided he could do one of two things. He could just leave and tell his father about him, or he could check the guy out himself. After weighing the silent challenge that came from the trailer trash’s eyes with the fact that he wanted to get a closer look, he pushed himself away from his car and began walking toward him. As he got closer, he could almost feel the stab of his sharp gaze, but Dezi continued, stepping carefully over the rocky ground, last night’s rain puddles, twigs, debris, and wet grass. Dezi noticed that his gaze never wavered. Did he even blink? Damn, this guy seemed to have nerves of steel.

When he finally came within speaking distance, Dezi put on a smile and said, “Hi, there. You livin’ here?”

“What’s it to you?”

Since this trailer trash didn’t seem to be any too friendly, Dezi jumped right in and said, “You know this is private property, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” the trailer trash said. “Mine.”

“No, it’s not yours. This property belongs to my dad.” Dezi pointed up the highway. “It’s connected to—”

“Is that right?” Trailer Trash said, interrupting Dezi’s words. With slow movements, he set his beer aside, flicked his cigarette in the dirt, and stood up in an intimidating stance. Without even the sign of fear or retreat, he stood his ground threateningly while looking Dezi in the eye with another challenge.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just tellin’ you it won’t be me you’ll be dealin’ with. It’ll be the police when my dad finds out you’re poaching on his land.”

“Look, rich boy, I didn’t steal anything. I bought this trailer from a friend of mine who had been living here for three years, and no one said anything about it being someone else’s property then.”

“You bought it, huh?” Dezi said sarcastically and looked up at the trailer. “Why, you must have paid all of ten dollars for this place.”

“Ten dollars or ten thousand dollars, it’s mine, and I ain’t leavin’ for anybody.”

“Fine, suit yourself,” Dezi said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Dezi turned and began walking away when suddenly he felt a whack on the back of the head—and then darkness.

* * * *

Chapter 1

As Rox Forrester stared down at the guy who was lying on his unmade bed, he had one foot resting on a chair, his upper body leaning forward, and his arm resting on his thigh, waiting for him to wake up. With a resentful, cutting gaze, he noticed that the dude’s clothes were of the latest style, expensive, and they looked good on him. His hair was dark and a little disheveled from being knocked cold, dragged, and hoisted up on the bed. His jaw was shadowed with a light beard that gave him the look of a richly clad vampire. His lips were full and appealing, slightly colored, and shiny, as if he was wearing lip gloss. His body seemed strong, agile, and well fed. His eyes were a mystery since they were closed, but he guessed them to be as black as midnight—like his soul.

He knew when Rich Boy woke up, he wasn’t going to be too happy, but, hell, what did he care? He was about to go and tell Daddy everything, and then they would’ve brought the police out here and scooted him off the land. He was lucky he didn’t whip out his Magnum revolver and shoot the hell out of him. Instead, he almost knocked his damned head off with a beer bottle. He was sorry he’d done it, but not for the usual reasons. He was just sorry that it was a damned waste of a full bottle of good Budweiser.

Just then Rich Boy opened his eyes, and after grimacing at the pain, he asked with a groggy voice, “What the hell happened?”

“You tried to fool with the wrong guy, that’s all,” Rox said, sounding tough.

“You hit me! Why the hell did you do that?”

“Why?” Rox said, roughly throwing the chair aside. “You have to ask why? You were going back to tell your lies to dear old Daddy and the police. What the hell did you expect me to do?”

Just then Rich Boy suddenly lunged at him, and as quick as lightning, Rox lunged back. With a single hand, he pushed him on his chest, and Rich Boy fell backward, still weak from the blow.

“Don’t make me hit you again, rich boy,” Rox said with a clenched fist. “The next time you might not come out of it.”

* * * *

Dezi looked up at him. Suddenly the trailer trash looked big. Too big to handle. With his strong, shapely legs spread wide in a no-nonsense stance, he looked tough and sexy. “Why, you trailer trash, I ought to skin the hide right off your bones.”

“Trailer trash, am I?” Rox said. “I’d watch my words if I were you, rich boy.”

“My name is Dezi Falconi, not ‘rich boy’!”

“And mine is Rox Forrester, not ‘trailer trash’!”

“Well, Rox, I’d start packing my bags if I were you. You’re goin’ to jail.”

“Am I?” Rox said as he straightened himself up to his full height. “By you and what army?”

Dezi’s eyes couldn’t help but rake along his body, stopping at his crotch that bulged with the promise of a hot and unforgettable fuck. And Dezi was so hungry he could feel his cock getting bigger and bigger at the sizzling thought of a night with this trailer trash. Dezi’s gaze reluctantly left his crotch and looked up into his face. He had a head full of hair that was tousled from the wind, making him look tough and virile. It was light, long, and bleached blond by the sun, and he had an athletic build. A deep tan told him he spent a lot of time outside, his chiseled jaw had a five o’clock shadow, and his eyes were an amazing sea-green. His lips were full, but they were unsmiling.

If only I could get him to smile. What a picture he would be.

When the trailer trash spoke, his voice was throaty and sultry, but when he was upset, it was thunderous. What would the trailer trash do if he told his dad? He’d go, all right, but all of a sudden Dezi didn’t like that idea too much because if he did, Dezi would never see him again. So why did he have to leave? He didn’t have to tell his dad that Rox was here. If he played his cards right, Rox could be his little secret—his dirty little secret.

“Say,” Dezi said, “on second thought, maybe I’ve been too hasty.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s no skin off my nose if you stay here. My father’s, either. You haven’t done any damage to the property. The trailer is kind of an eyesore, but you could fix it up.”

Rox stared at him. “What are you saying, rich boy?”

“I’d even help you fix it up. In fact, if things work out the way I want them to, I could even pay you.”

“Pay me? For what?”

Dezi stared at him for a moment, his eyes taking on a lazy, sultry gaze as he slid them down his body, and then up again, stopping at his flesh-colored lips that he was dying to taste.

Rox had seen that look before, and hesitated for a moment “Why, you bastard. Are you propositioning me?”

“Why not?” Dezi said, looking at him as if he were dirt. “It’s not as if you couldn’t use the money. You’re trailer trash, aren’t you?”

* * * *

A full chest of anger blossomed inside Rox, making him automatically clench his fist, reach out and grab Rich Boy’s collar, and draw his fist back to hit him.

Dezi quickly put up his hands and said, “Okay. I’m sorry.”

What the rich boy didn’t see was the rush of tears that misted Rox’s eyes. He’d heard slurs like that one too many times, and trying to fight it was like trying to stop a hurricane. To keep Dezi from seeing his tears, he pushed him away, turned, sat down on the bed, and hung his head. “I guess I can’t blame you. It seems I’ll never be anything else.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rox mumbled with a derisive chuckle. “You’ve just propositioned me and called me trailer trash for the umpteenth time, and now you want to know what’s wrong. What turnip truck did you just fall off of? Get the hell out of here before I really lose my temper.”

“Sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

Rox looked at the rich boy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, who hadn’t worked a day in his life, and felt sick to his stomach. “Don’t you understand, rich boy?” Rox finally asked. “I know it’s not much, but I worked hard to get this trailer. You weren’t far off when you said I paid ten dollars for it. I paid fifty. It was everything I had. Hell, I don’t even have electricity or running water. Whatever I need I get at the Texaco station on the corner. The truth is, my folks are dead, my friends are off in another part of the world, and I had nowhere to go. I was thumbing it out on the highway when I saw this trailer out here alone and abandoned. I managed to find the owner, we talked, and it seemed like the answer at the time, so I took it. It’s a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in, so I thought I’d give it a try. You might say I’m hiding out more than anything else.”

“So what are you hiding from?”

“You mean who, don’t you?”

“Okay, so who are you hiding from?”

“Who do you think? People like you.” Rox got up and began pacing. “Rich people who think all they have to do is wave a few dollars in my face, and I’ll lie down for them.” He looked over at Dezi accusingly. “But it’s usually older men, not someone of my own fuckin’ generation.”

“Well, hell, Rox, look at yourself. You scream sex appeal. You’re the hottest guy I’ve seen in a long time. Being a man yourself, you must know how men are. They’re pigs.”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” Rox said. “Especially those who’ve got so much money they’ve got no feelings left for someone like me. You ever tried to get a job in the middle of a recession? If I am trailer trash, it’s not by choice. It’s because I have no other choice.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I insulted you, but hell, I’m only human.”

“Be as fuckin’ human as you want to be, but not with me.” He suddenly turned and pulled a satchel out of his tiny little closet. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I can get packed. I guess I’ll just have to leave the trailer. I don’t have any way of hauling it around.”

“Where will you go?”

“Nowhere to go. I know this trailer isn’t much, but it kept me out of the weather, and I had a place to sleep. Hell, maybe I can sell it to someone who can move it off the land. Can you do one decent thing and give me a little time to find someone?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “Thanks.”

* * * *

Dezi felt bad. He knew what his father would do in this situation, but then he was one of those unfeeling types whose humanity had been numbed by money. He’d seen him lie, cheat, steal, and do anything he could to get his own way, but hell, Dezi just didn’t have it in him to follow in his footsteps. “Look, man, I can’t take your home away from you. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll get it out of here for you. There’s a trailer park not too far up the highway. I’ll go there, get you a spot, and we’ll move you in.”

“But that’ll take money. Why would you want to…?” He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Oh, yeah.”

“I’m not doing it for that, Rox. Hell, I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, and you need help. It’s as simple as that. You’ve had a tough go of it, and if I can help, I’m glad to.”

“You mean you’d do all this without expecting anything in return?”

“Of course. And you’ll be hooked up to the utilities. You’ll have running water and anything else you need. To hell with the Texaco station on the corner. If this trailer is your home, then we have to get it in shape.”

“All this for nothing,” Rox repeated as if he couldn’t quite believe him.

“Well, I’m not stupid. If it’s okay with you, we’ll let nature take its course.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not demanding anything, Rox, but I like you, and if you like me, who’s to say we won’t click? Let’s just pretend nothing like a proposition ever came out of my mouth, and start all over.” He stood to his feet, put out his hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Dezi Falconi. I live in downtown Austin, Texas, and I’m glad to know you.”

Rox gave him a tentative smile, took Dezi’s hand, and said, “I’m Rox Forrester. I’m dirt poor and live in a trashy trailer on somebody else’s land. I’m glad to know you, too.”

As they stood looking at each other, Dezi gave Rox’s naked hand a little squeeze, making even the flesh of their palms feel like two naked bodies pressing together. As they stared at each other, Dezi could feel the natural heat of their flesh turning to the heat of passion, and he hesitated to let go when Rox tried to pull away.

“Remember. No pressure,” Rox whispered again as he slowly withdrew his hand.

Dezi smiled. “No pressure.”

Rox smiled. “Maybe that knot on the head did you some good, rich boy.”

“It’s easy to help someone like you, trailer tra…” Suddenly Dezi caught himself and said, “Sorry. I meant…Rox.”

“I know, and thanks.”

“Say, how did you ever get a name like Rox?”

Rox laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m about one-fifth Jamaican on my father’s side, and I was named after a Jamaican rock singer.”

“Jamaican? That’s a stretch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blond-haired Jamaican.”

Rox shrugged, and with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he looked over at Dezi and said, “It must have been the milkman.”

When the two men laughed together, Dezi noticed Rox’s smile, and it was just as he had expected. For the first time he saw his teeth, and he could have sworn he saw them twinkle like they did in the movies. Was this guy for real, or did he just step down off some movie screen?

* * * *

Chapter 2

Later on that same day, Dezi sat looking at the owner of the Crossroads Trailer Park and talking to him about renting a space for Rox’s trailer.

“When you look around, you’ll find I run a clean park. There are a lot of good people here. I think you’ll like it.”

Dezi picked up the contract he gave him, but when he began reading it, his hopes plummeted. “Do all the trailer parks have these kinds of requirements for parking trailers on their lots?”

“I’m sure they do. It’s a standard contract that all the parks use. Why?” he asked, looking at him closely. “Is there a problem?”

“No…” Dezi said hesitantly. “I was just wondering.” Dezi’s eyes continued to scan the black print, almost unable to believe what he was reading.

The front steps must have a platform and a rail.

The trailer must have aluminum or vinyl skirting.

Awnings, carports…and even a friggin’ storage shed? Damn!

He kept reading until he got to the word “patio,” and muttered a string of expletives that he hadn’t said in years. It was then that he noticed a whole section on landscaping, sheds—even rules about what could be stored. But when he saw that the trailer had to be painted and in pristine condition, he stopped reading, threw the contract back down on the desk, and got up to leave. It wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t do it.

“Mr. Falconi,” the super called out with a questioning look on his face. “Is there a problem?”

“I’ll…uh, call you,” Dezi said and kept walking.

As Dezi drove back to Rox’s place, he stopped just short of the trailer and sat in his car for a moment, wondering how he was going to tell Rox. He realized for the first time how sheltered he must have been all his life. He’d grown up thinking people that lived in trailer parks were dirt poor, and of a lower class, but after learning what it took to live in one of those trailer parks, the last thing these people were was poor. He recalled seeing a lot of trailer parks scattered around and laughed right along with everyone else when jokes were told about tornadoes that seemed to head straight for them. He knew it couldn’t have been too funny to the people that lived there. Actually, some looked pretty good, while others were a little worn and lived in, but he’d never seen any that was in as bad a shape as Rox’s trailer. Hell, it seemed to him that it was cheaper to buy a piece of one’s own land than to live up to the expectations of a trailer park. If such a simple thing as a trailer park required all this, what must apartments, houses, and even buying a new car require? He looked down at his sporty new birthday present that his dad had bought for him, and it occurred to him for the first time that his dad got everything for him. Hell, he’d even rented his penthouse for him. Sometimes when he stayed with his father over a weekend, or for a special occasion, it seemed as if it was crowded with servants. There were servants for the house, the grounds, the pool, and the tennis courts. Hell, he had servants for everything. If he didn’t want to, Dezi didn’t even have to wipe his own fucking ass! The laugh of the century was he had been feeling sorry for Rox. He knew now that Rox wasn’t the loser in life—he was.

He recalled only hours ago when he saw Rox for the first time. Since then he’d learned that he was street-smart, good-looking, and not afraid of anything or anyone. As usual, Dezi walked in talking big and cracking wise, and without ever knowing anything about Dezi, Rox had sized him up pretty quickly and called him rich boy. The way he said it, he made it sound like a disease instead of a way of life. But he was right on the money. He never knew what a slur that was until now. It felt almost as bad as “trailer trash.”

Now, putting his car in gear, he drove up to Rox’s trailer and saw him sitting in a tub full of sudsy water. The simple things, he thought. That’s where true happiness lies. In a round metal washtub with his legs hanging over the side, Rox was having the time of his life. It made Dezi smile. Damned if he didn’t want to get in there with him. He thought of the big tub in his bathroom at home. It was almost as big as a swimming pool, and yet he would have traded it in a minute for the good time Rox was having in an old-fashioned round tub where he did his washing. And then he remembered. Where the hell did he get the water? He chuckled and shook his head. He knew the answer to that before he even asked it. People like him, people who had to do without, found a way. They weren’t only street-smart. They were wily, tricky, and guarded. But they had to be to survive. Hell, Dezi knew that if he didn’t have his father’s millions to depend on, he’d probably be out on the street and dead of starvation in a month’s time.

How sad.

How very damned sad.

He got out of his car and walked over to Rox. “Having fun?”

“Look what I’ve got,” Rox said and lifted up a rubber ducky.

Dezi laughed. “Is that yours?”

“It is now. I found it in a garbage dump.”

As Dezi looked at the pure happiness on Rox’s face, he felt sick inside. This trailer trash, as he’d referred to him so many times, looked like a kid with a present at Christmastime. How could he get so damned excited over a rubber duck?

Suddenly he knew the answer.

With a sheepish expression on his face, he looked over at his own toy, the Miata that came equipped with all the bells and whistles on it, and then back down at the rubber duck that had brought Rox such happiness and felt ashamed. Because he’d been raised around money, it took more to make Dezi happy—expensive watches, trips abroad, fancy new cars—but for Rox, a simple man, a rubber duck did the job. He felt like he’d just been stabbed in the heart, but he got the message.

It was hard in coming, but he realized for the first time that real happiness wasn’t money, cars, and gourmet food. It was in the simple things. He knew better than anything else that money brought complications. It created havoc, selfishness, and greed, but you couldn’t live without it. Maybe that was why the world was going to hell in a handbasket.

“I don’t want you to do that anymore.”

“What?”

“Go digging around in garbage dumps.”

“But you can find some good stuff there. There’s one right down there by the—”

“Rox,” Dezi interrupted as he crouched down and looked into his eyes. “You’re too good for that. I haven’t figured out how yet, but things are going to change.”

“What do you mean? Did you get a spot for the trailer?”

Dezi looked over at the trailer, and with a concerned look on his face, he said, “I’m going to buy you another one.”

Rox’s eyes flew wide open. “What? Buy another one? Why?”

“This one’s in too bad a shape. We’d never be able to get it up to regulation. It’s too old, too worn out. Too many things wrong with it.”

“Really? You mean they refused it?”

“They would have if they’d seen it. When I found out what was required, I didn’t even ask.”

Rox looked down at the squeeze toy sadly. “I can’t let you do it.”

“It’s not up to you. I’m buying myself a trailer, and you’re living in it. Case closed.” With that, Dezi got up, went to the cooler, opened it, and saw it packed with beer. “Man, you can’t afford this.”

“I’ve got a little money socked away,” Rox said. “It’s enough to keep us in beer for a while. Hell, man, I can’t let you buy everything.”

“Hell, no!” Dezi said as he slammed the lid down angrily. “From now on you’re not buying anything. You keep your money for emergencies, or whatever. I’ll get us food and beer when we need it.”

“Dezi, I buy this because I want to feel that it’s mine and I can drink it anytime I want. If you buy it, I won’t feel that way. You understand, don’t you?”

Dezi looked at him closely. “Why the hell do you drink so much beer? What’s the matter with soft drinks, or tea, or something.”

“Soft drinks are too sweet, and tea…Can you imagine me drinking tea with my pinkie sticking out? Forget it. Look, Dezi, you’ve got a rich appetite. I can’t afford to have an appetite like that. If I eat steak and potatoes one day, and then have to go back and eat crackers and soup—”

“Crackers and soup? Is that what you eat?”

“It’ll keep me alive until something better comes along.”

“Something better has come along, Rox. It’s me. Please let me help you.”

“Dezi, you worry too much. Just leave me to my trailer trash appetite, and you go home and eat your steak and potatoes, drink your tea…or whatever the hell else you eat, and I’ll do just fine.”

Dezi knew he was right, and he just sat looking at him. He was quiet for a moment and watched as Rox splashed around in his poor-man’s tub. He couldn’t stand to think of Rox sitting here eating soup out of a can and filling himself up on crackers when he was at home eating steak, lobster, caviar, and drinking champagne. Damn it, it just wasn’t fair. But what could he do about it?

He knew if he and Rox were sleeping together, Rox wouldn’t object to him buying anything. He’d figure he owed it to him. But like this, it was just one friend helping out another, and he didn’t want to take advantage.

Suddenly he got up, went into the trailer, headed straight for the kitchen, which was almost in the same room as everything else, and opened the door to his cabinets. He saw nothing but soup, crackers, peanut butter, and a half full bag of chips. In his tiny little refrigerator—oh God, why did he keep anything in that refrigerator if he didn’t have electricity? Hell, it was hotter inside that thing than it was outside. Dezi looked, and there, in the dark and sitting on a wire rack, was a jar of pickles and a little wedge of cheese. Dezi knew that for Rox, that was a lot. He probably thought he was well stocked on food. It made Dezi wonder how the hell he stayed so—built. His body was toned and muscled, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think he was eating very well. Just then the door slammed. Dezi turned and saw Rox standing there.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I’m checking your food. I thought I’d go to the grocery store and get you stocked up.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ve got food.”

“This is food? The next thing I know you’ll be eating cat food!”

“My tastes are just not as expensive as yours are, that’s all. To me this is good food. I like soup.”

“And peanut butter, cheese, and pickles?”

“Well, the cheese is questionable, but I think the pickles are okay.”

“Rox, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

“So? It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

He indicated toward the food in the pantry. “You can’t exist on those things, Rox. Let me get you some food so you don’t die of malnutrition or poison yourself.” He looked at Rox sadly. “Don’t you understand? I want to help you. How long has it been since you’ve had a friggin’ hamburger and fries?”

“Even if I wanted one, I don’t have the trans—”

“Well, you’ve got it now. You just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll get you the biggest, most vulgar Big Mac they’ve got. Beef, bacon, cheese, and fries so salty and hot you’ll eat ‘em up in one bite.”

“That’s fine…for now. But what will I eat when you’re not here? Back to soup, right? Dezi, I have to eat what I can afford. I can’t eat like a king during one meal and then eat like a pauper the next. I exist in one world. You exist in another. There’s nothing wrong with either one. It just means we’re used to different things. It might not be much, but hell, I like soup. It has vegetables in it. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of all this.”

Dezi felt a big stab of concern in his heart when he looked at him. “Because you’re my friend.”

“Your friend, or your lover?”

“We haven’t…”

“You know it’s building to that, and that’s the reason you want to take care of me.”

“And you want to keep us apart. That’s why you won’t let me. Isn’t that right?”

“If I do, it’s because we have to let this happen naturally. Our relationship has to build to that point.”

“I already feel it, Rox. I’m surprised that you can’t. When we look at each other…it’s like the Fourth of July inside me. I want you so bad I can taste it.” As he stood looking at Rox wrapped in a towel, he thought of him in the tub looking as raw and sexy as hell. With his well-shaped legs hanging out, his cock buried just beneath the suds, and his eyes looking at him in the lazy way they had, it made Dezi sweat. He wanted to plunge his hand down beneath that murky water because he knew what was there. It made his rich-boy’s appetite willing to sink down into the deepest trailer trash gutter and take that cock and jack it until Rox shouted hallelujah. And after that…hell, it’s a wonder he didn’t jump Rox.

“I know how it is, but…”

“But nothing,” Dezi whispered, reached out, and pulled the towel away from him. “I’m buying you a trailer, and for that, the price is a lifetime of fucks with the sexiest man alive.”

“And all I get is a trailer?”

Dezi smiled at his remark and then stepped up to him, expecting him to resist or refuse him some way, but instead Rox went into his arms, his wet body saturating his clothes. Dezi reached up and buried his fingers in Rox’s wet hair, and turned his head so he could look into his sinful sea-green eyes. “I want to fuck the hell out of you, Rox. How about it?” Just then, as if in answer to his question, he felt something hard pressing against him and knew it was Rox’s naked cock. Gathering him close, he kissed him while he yanked at his own clothes until his cock was exposed and eating up Rox’s.

The two of them gasped with pleasure.

“Oh, God. Take me to the bed now, Dezi.”

Dezi looked toward the bed in the other end of the trailer. It couldn’t have been more than a few feet, but it looked as if it were a million miles away. He didn’t want to let go of Rox long enough to get to it. He wanted Rox now, on the table, on the floor, anywhere he could have him.

“Please,” Rox whispered. “The bed.”

“Whatever you want,” Dezi whispered.

The few steps were eaten up in breathy kisses, feeling each other up, and then sinking down onto the bed and kissing as if they were going to consume each other. The first kiss Dezi gave Rox while his body lay flat against him was so explosive and mind-numbing, everything in this life ceased to matter. Time, space, objects, hell, he could have been floating in some kind of void, and it wouldn’t have mattered. He could vaguely hear motorists out on the highway speeding by because the normal world seemed so distant. In fact, as the sounds slowly died away, it was as if everything around him had ceased to exist. Only the two of them together seemed to matter. Dezi knew only one thing. He had to have Rox, to consume him, to breathe him in. Hungry for his flesh, he ran his tongue along his soap-scented neck, breathing in his freshness. As his wet hair dripped, Dezi hungrily licked up the fresh-smelling, shampoo-scented water, and it tasted like ambrosia.

As the rich boy, with his blue blood and hot new sports car, lay with the trailer trash, he chewed at his delicious lips, nibbled his ears, and moaned with pleasure when Rox returned those gestures. They continued to nip and gnaw at each other feverishly until Dezi said, “Turn over. I want to fuck your ass from the back.”

* * * *

Rox turned slowly, feeling Dezi’s hands go around him and grasp his cock. He moaned when he felt Dezi’s hand on him, and his cock sinking into his crack. He was breathless as Dezi moved his cock in and out, pressing, rubbing, causing sensations to rise in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. The heat between their bodies was growing to a volcanic place, and when Dezi began to jack him, hard and fast, he almost came apart. The sensations he felt were torrid, sending him into a heaven full of hands, cocks, lips, sucking, and nibbling. Rox couldn’t stay still. His hips moved in synch with Dezi’s while his hands reached out and grabbed and squeezed a pillow nearby. The longer Dezi jacked him, the closer he came to a release, but it was slow. The heat of the moment, the friction of his hand on his cock, all of it together made Rox beg for an orgasm. And then it began to haunt him, bringing him upward, but never quite getting there. And then he felt Dezi’s cock pressing against his hole. It was slow at first, and then when he finally stuck it in, Rox almost yelled out.

Ohhh, God! He felt like the plunges were ripping him open, but he couldn’t stop. The two of them moved with each other, uninhibited, flesh on flesh, mouths nibbling, licking, moaning, and grunting. They were having a hot, sizzling fuck, trailer park style, and Rox had to give the rich boy credit for being one hell of a lover.

Dezi couldn’t seem to get enough, and he fucked him over and over again, changing from one position to another until he finally pulled Rox onto his lap and sunk his cock into his hole for the last time. Rox lay back against his chest, feeling his cock going in and out of his hole, and he bounced and moaned like an animal in heat while Dezi continued to jack him. When the two finally came, it moved them like a mad whip crack in a sky of hot red and blue sparks just before they finally fell into exhaustion.

While they lay there, still in each other’s arms, Rox didn’t dream about money, clothes, cars, or food enough to fill his stomach, he dreamed about the new trailer he was getting—and soon.

* * * *

Chapter 3

Sometime deep into that same night, Dezi woke, feeling the warmth of Rox’s body against him, and felt his desire for him billowing up from within. Rox lay with his back to him, so he nestled up as close as he could and reached around him, still smelling the soap Rox had used the day before. Wanting to eat him up, he pushed his hair out of the way and began kissing his neck. Dezi had the strangest urge to lick at the pleasing fragrance as he fantasized about plunging his cock deep into Rox’s hole again, but he didn’t want to wake him up. For some reason he realized he was smiling. God, how long had it been since he’d woken up with a smile on his face? It was so hard to explain how he felt. He seemed so full—of something. It wasn’t only his cock being full of cum, or the god-awful desire he could feel whirling about in his groin. It was his chest. He just seemed to be bursting with something—happiness maybe.

He wanted to get inside this trailer trash and eat him up. He wanted to fuck him, love him, and absolutely consume him. He’d found something in Rox he’d never found in anyone in his life. Was it love? Who knew? All he knew was he loved being around him. He loved the way Rox enjoyed life. Everything was a new discovery to him. He had learned how to enjoy the simple things because he never had money for the glittery, expensive things that would blind a man to the world around him, as it had Dezi. He’d always thought his money made him special, but it hadn’t. Just like a million others, all it had made him was pampered, indulged, and, worst of all, it made him a snob.


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