“On my way back home to Little Rock, and you,” he replied.“Going home myself, a little further east though, Atlanta.”“Long drive you got bef...re you there. Me, according to law, I have to stay off the road for the next few hours. Pity there is nothing to do here in this wilderness,” he said as he placed his foot on the bench of the table and massaged his bulge.“Now that depends on how adventurous you are. Not to be too forward, but I would love to see the interior of your truck,” I said, not. Trouble was he was looking at the ceiling, and there was as sure as hell nothing interesting up there. He'd got some grout and stuff in his basket, and a whole lot of WOOD down his tracksuit bottoms. He was well hard, and he didn't look like he'd got any underwear on ! I was quietly fascinated by this swaying erection as it passed me by,his basket held hopelessly in front of it. He'd need more than some grout to hide that little lot. A roll of wallpaper perhaps. I checked out his arse as he. More

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