"OOOOOO…klahoma," they sang as they rolled across the border in the bright Mid-Western sunshine. A trifle cute it seemed, but then Martin had started the singing and seemed to be enjoying the song. His spirits seemed lifted now, either by association with the two crazy men who had befriended him or by the fact that he had made some choices in his life, Matt was relieved.

The boy had bought each of them a cowboy hat after they had breakfast. They were good quality Stetsons too, but he had spent the last of his meager funds in a moment of elation at his new freedom. They had taken the boy back to the dorm where he lived to pack his things. The bus parked on the campus was just beginning to attract attention when Martin rejoined them, lugging all his worldly possessions in two overstuffed suitcases.

It was a quick decision to leave the school and might even have caused some problems if anyone knew he wasn't coming back. CJ was only too happy to drive through the gates and get back on the highway headed west. Martin seemed to be doing fine since here he was singing off key at the top of his lungs and they were all happy ..."OOOOOO…klahoma."

CJ smiled as he pulled into the truck stop in Hanson, Oklahoma, a small crossroads in the middle of nowhere. The lot was full, a general sign for travelers of good food.

"I'm famished," CJ said, "Martin, want to call your uncle and see if he's there?"

"Uncle Jack is always there but you're probably right, I should let him and Aunt Jill know I'm a coming."

Matt turned to CJ and mouthed: Jack and Jill?

"Here's a handful of quarters then," Matt said, "there's a couple of pay phones over there by the door to the restaurant."

Martin strode across the lot and Matt leaned on the door frame, turning to CJ who sat in the driver's seat.

"That boy sure has cheered up," Matt said "You know, sex with him was wonderful; it was like a natural thing for him. Imagine having sex with your brother for years and not thinking of it as queer. But he seems to be on a high, like discovering himself all over again today. Thanks for the help, CJ"

"Well, we now know there are some unique personalities out there and we seem to be on a roll, so let's not question the good fortune," CJ replied.

They had a good meal and Martin's metabolism shot into higher gear so he had to jog around the parking lot to wear off the calories before they resumed the trip. Jack and Jill lived up the hill alright, not far from Red Rock Canyon State Park, a wondrous piece of Mother Earth.

CJ and Matt were all ready to just drop the boy off, but Jill wouldn't hear of it and made them feel downright guilty for even thinking about it. Their ranch looked over a small piece of canyon land and as they sat on the porch drinking ice tea, CJ had one of those quiet moments to contemplate.

It seemed that they were destined to rescue the troubled gay youth of America. First Danny, then Justin, Bobby, Jackie and now Martin, all in rapid succession. Did this mean that they were the white knights of the gay world? CJ didn't quite think so. Their extended family was starting to look like a small army. Maybe Mrs. M was right when she had said that the spirits were guiding their way, something was sure calling him down the road.

Matt didn't feel at all bad about leaving Martin with these loving people. After an hour or so of socializing he took a short walk with the boy around the property and corral.

"I don't suppose you'll be coming back this way?" Martin said.

"Maybe not this year, my friend. If you can get away, come visit when we return home, I'd like to see you again. There will always be a place for you in our family. "

"Then I promise to write you Matt, at that post office box address in Delaware, will you write me back?"

"Yes, I promise. I'll send you postcards along the way telling you about our trip. You must stay in touch. I need to know how you are handling things. Remember what CJ told you, we're family, every one of us is important to the whole. There are others you should meet someday. They will help you understand how important you are to us all."

They had stopped behind the barn in the small patch of shade and out of the hot mid-afternoon sun. He hugged Martin and quickly forbid him to cry but he could see the silent tears on the boy's face already, damn this was hard. Although they had agreed that Martin should stay with his relatives and get back into a university soon, the parting was happening too fast for either of them to handle the emotions well.

"We'll be seeing each other again, I'm sure of it," Matt said. "Keep those phone numbers I gave you for that gay hotline, don't lose them, they might be a small link to your sanity some lonely night. If I were you, I would think about driving into Oklahoma City every now and then. I want you to read the books I'm going to send you. Tell yourself every day, I'm gay and somebody loves me."

"Yeah, I am gay and I'm learning to love myself again. Thanks, you made it happen."

"We're not alone, Martin. It may seem that way sometimes, especially way out here in the heartland. It will be a lot easier if you find some gay friends in the city. But just like everywhere, choose them carefully. As I said before, there are millions of gay men in America, there have to be a least a hundred who would die for the chance to love you. You'll never know unless you try to find them."

They hugged again and then the boy took off running into the trees to keep Matt from seeing his tears.

"I'm sad that ended so quickly," Matt said when he got back to the bus.

"Think he'll be alright?" CJ responded.

"Yeah, I guess so, as best as can be expected. I left him our phone number and I gave him some money to buy a car. Thanks, my dear, for all your patience."

"What's a father supposed to do for his misguided children?" CJ asked.

"Love them even more than they deserve," Matt replied.

In a few hours they were crossing the panhandle of Texas, a pretty area but oh so dry. Matt was looking for a night stopping place when they saw the billboard for the Amarillo truck stop, country bar, dance hall, etc.

"Are you up for some country music tonight?" Matt asked.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Hell no, CJ. We can mosey over to the dance hall and ketch us some young steers? I got me a hankerin for some good fiddle playin."

"Your hat must be on too tight, that didn't even make sense, besides you can't possibly be horny after last night's wrestling match with Martin."

"Yeah, you're right. All I really need is a distraction, I miss him."

Amarillo was a quaint little town, at least the little they saw from the interstate. Matt was thinking about Martin growing up here and subconsciously started counting churches he could see off the highway. That got boring real fast. Finally they saw the sign for the truck stop and wheeled into the parking lot. The place was huge and the only word they could think of to describe it was gaudy.

CJ found a spot for the bus along the fence of the half-mile square of asphalt called a parking lot. The bus seemed pretty anonymous amidst a sea of trailer rigs and cars parked around the restaurant and nearby motel.

They sat in the bus and watched the sun going down during the cocktail hour, the windows open to receive a fresh evening breeze. Through the windshield, CJ could see a small group of people in cowboy hats gathering at the large building on the far side of the lot. The strains of a country band finally reached the open window and Matt smiled.

"Did you know that country music has its roots in ancient Celtic rhythms?" he said.

"Why you're just a wealth of knowledge, aren't you," CJ said," when you gonna know something useful?"

"Come on, my dear, cheer up. There are bound to be some cute things hanging around this place. Maybe we could snag a few to play with."

"What a dreamer," CJ said, "give me some time to get used to the idea and that horrible sound. Maybe I'll join you but don't get your hopes up, I'm pretty tired."

Matt decided to check out the hall and show off his cowboy hat while CJ slumped his way over to the restaurant and gift shop for a local newspaper and coffee. The restaurant was fairly crowded so CJ retired to a booth in an empty corner with his paper. The waitress brought him a coffee and smiled until CJ realized he was still wearing the hat and laid it on the table while waving the waitress away, she left him the pot.

Cattle futures, corn prices, barn fires, this was all he could see in the paper except for one or two national stories and he soon bored of the local stuff. There was a busboy mopping the floor at the back of the room and CJ didn't pay him much heed until the kid knocked over a chair with his mop. The boy put his mop back in the bucket and went to pick up the chair. In doing so, he knocked into the adjoining table spilling the assorted condiment containers off onto the floor. The sugar container lost its cap and rolled across the floor spilling sugar everywhere and rolling to a stop at CJ's feet.

Through the kitchen door burst this burly blob of a man, dressed in dirty white and wadding an apron in his huge hands. The boy was on the floor scooping up sugar when the man began yelling.

"Randy, you dumb, no good sumbitch. Look what you done to my clean floor. I've had about enough of you and your messy ways, you're fired."

With that he spun around and nearly knocked over the waitress as he slammed back through the kitchen door. She bent down and helped the boy clean up the mess and reset the table. The boy continued with his mopping as if nothing was changed, but he kept looking over his shoulder at the kitchen door. When he had worked his way down to CJ's booth he smiled in apology for the noise.

"Having a hard day, I see," CJ said.

"Yes sir," the boy replied," but don't worry, that's my uncle. He fires me about twice a day."

CJ looked the kid up and down, about sixteen....maybe, just a puppy. It was hard to tell with his face and build. The short cropped, brown hair revealed a shapely head and deep hazel eyes. A nice lad, all gangly with a body still growing up too fast. The boy noticed his hat on the table.

"Nice hat you got mister, I been saving up for one myself."

"Well if you promise not to get yourself fired again tonight, I'll give it to you," CJ said.

"Really? You must be rich, mister."

"Maybe I am."

"Oh, you in that bus pulled up a few hours ago? I've been trying to figure out what that bus is all about, got all them antennas on the top."

"If you want, stop by when you're done and I'll show you what they're for."

The boy thanked CJ profusely for the hat and carefully carried it back into the kitchen. Being bored with the situation CJ left the restaurant and went back to the bus. Matt was still away and the sound of electric guitars and fiddles wailed across the parking lot. CJ snapped on the television but all the stations were local and nothing was on except some preacher who was busy yelling about sin. He decided to read a book and was just settling in when there was a knock at the door. Randy was standing there, hat in hand.

"I'm sorry to bother you mister, my uncle says I can't accept this gift from you, you being a stranger and all."

"That's not fair, I gave it to you."

"Well he told me to drop it off to you on my way home, so I come by to give it back. I'm sorry, thanks anyway."

The kid was looking up into the interior of the bus and so CJ invited him to step up and take a look. The boy was fascinated by the luxury and the electronics everywhere he looked. He asked if he might sit on the couch and plopped himself down comfortably. There was a slight pungent odor in the air and CJ recognized the smell of marijuana emanating from the boy's clothing, should he say anything or not? While he was pondering this, the kid smiled at him with slightly bloodshot eyes.

"Damn, you guys must really enjoy riding around the country in this thing."

"Yes, its fun, but will you tell me something? Your name is Randy, right?"

"Randy, yeah that's right, what you want to know?"

"Well, Randy, I'm CJ, by the way, I guess there's some pretty good weed to smoke around here, got any?"

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"Aw, come on, you smell like a pot factory and there ain't nothing wrong with my nose, besides I'm no cop," CJ said. "I'm just a dope head like you, will you sell me some?"

The boy hesitated and reached into his dusty cowboy boot, pulling out a small baggie and some papers.

"Ok if I roll one in here?" the boy asked.

"Just don't spill any on the carpet."

The kid rolled a damn fine joint, virtually one handed. He proffered it to CJ who accepted and examined the workmanship.

"Guess you do this a lot?" CJ said.

"Yeah, been smoking since I was ten or so. Guess I got myself in some trouble with it too. That's why my uncle keeps me working, says it keeps me out of trouble."

"Well, it must take all your paychecks to keep you in weed and leave you damn little for the ladies besides."

"Naw, I grow it. Me and some friends have a patch hidden away, pretty good shit too. As for the ladies, I ain't found one worth a damn yet. You smoke a lot yourself?"

"No, actually, I haven't done it in years, been too busy. You know this shit will stunt your growth?"

"Does it look like that's a problem for me?" Randy said.

"Not really, hell, I figure you're about sixteen and maybe six foot or so, am I right?

"I was eighteen two months ago. Been lookin forward to that driver's license too, I got busted for smokin dope last year and the judge told me I can't have it until now."

"See, what I told you," CJ said, "that shit is stunting your growth, maybe not physically, but socially."

"I see what you mean, yeah, not havin a license definitely puts a cramp on my love life, not that I got one now anyway."

Twice, Randy had confirmed his lack of female companionship and CJ mulled this over. This didn't mean the boy was fishing or anything near it, but it was just another card in the game and the cards always changed with each hand.

"Well, boys just like you always find a way to take care of business, ah, when things get hard, girlfriend or not."

"Yeah, I got two friends that keep me happy, Bessy and Betty."

Wiggling the fingers on his left and then right hands, he then laughed out loud.

"Look, you being an educated man and all, can you tell me something, I mean private like?" Randy asked.

"Sure, advice is always free."

"Not sure how to put this but my dick keeps getting bigger and I'm afraid that some girls will not, you know, have sex with me. My friend, John, tells me it's too big for a girl to handle. Is there such a thing as too big?"

"Interesting question. I think that some girls are afraid to be hurt their first couple of times out of the starting gate. But look, babies come down that same chute and they stretch it all the way out and that is a lot larger than anyone's penis. It's honestly gonna depend on the girl, Randy, but you're in control of how you use it and if it's real big you'll have to be slow and gentle every time. But then that's part of the fun."

"Makes sense, I was just getting worried, that's all."

Now where the hell did all this come from, CJ thought, and what's with all these big cocks, must be something in the water out here? I think this boy is trying to hustle me, believe it or not. Let's see where this goes.

"Well, boys are likely to keep their growth going until about nineteen or twenty so if it's big now it may grow a little more but not much," CJ said.

"I can't even take a shower at school anymore," Randy said, "I had a six inch boner in sixth grade and now, hell it's even bigger, maybe ten inches," the boy confided.

"Really, that is large. John Dillinger had a sixteen inch cock and lots of women, so you see the size didn't kill his love life….but the FBI did."

They laughed at the joke for a while but CJ could tell that this subject wasn't over yet. This kid has an agenda, he thought.

"Sometimes it hurts too, but I can't tell nobody," Randy said, "well, guess I just told you, didn't I"

"How about your family doctor?"

"Naw, old Doc Pope is a jerk, told me to keep my hands out of my pants, said that playing with it only made it bigger, do you believe that?"

"What a load of crap, it isn't true."

"Oh, I sorta figured that."

Randy smiled and clicked his lighter. The sweet smell of pot smoke wafted through the bus and was sucked into the air conditioning system. What a little con artist, definitely a hustler. Wonder where he learned his trade? CJ wasn't about to have sex with the kid, he was much too young...eighteen my ass. But this was fun; the kid had a mouth and played the game quite well.

"What a sweet little hustler you are," CJ laughed.

"I'm sorry," Randy said, "What does hustle mean?"

"It's what guys do to have sex, sometimes for money," CJ said. "I figured you wanted to have sex with me."

"Oh, I don't want your money," Randy said, "I just thought it might be fun, you know. After all, you gave me that expensive hat and were so nice to me."

"Oh, Randy. I'm not putting you down for this. Just be honest with me, that's all I want."

Randy reached across the couch and rubbed CJ's shoulder.

"Ok, I'm sorry, I didn't tell you the truth. I've had sex with some of the truckers here. Ya know, some of the guys that drive regular like. They even take me along on short trips. We eat, smoke weed and have sex. It's ok, really. But I did lie to you, I'm only fifteen and I know most guys like you won't have sex with me because I'm too young."

"Well there are laws you know," CJ said.

"Yeah, that sucks don't it. Well, it was fun talkin about it anyway, you're a nice guy."

Randy stood up slowly and picked up the cowboy hat, CJ let him out the door. He watched as the boy sauntered across the blacktop in the dark. What a lovely creature. Too young for me, got to be careful of that. But Lord, only fifteen with a cannon like that between his legs. Wow, maybe I should come back here in a few years. They'll have a monument built to that cock.

CJ saw Matt walking up through the parking lot towards the bus and held the door open for him.

"Holy cow, CJ, can't leave you alone for a minute. Wasn't that a boy I just saw leaving here?"

"Just a little boy named Randy with a big toy and he wanted to play. But way too young, although he did have some excellent weed.

"Shit, missed it, did I?"

"No dear, I saved you the roach for your bedtime. It's there in the ash tray."


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