[Trigger warning: this is a tale of FIRST TIMES with gay, oral and fetish contacts.]
How the hell did I get into this with one brother sucking my toes and the other . . . well, I don't want to think about wh-h-h-at he's doing. Was it just an hour ago this all started? Maybe if I distract myself by recalling h-h-how this happened?
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Nine P.M. on Halloween and just as I was about to pull past a dingy black and heavily loaded tractor trailer on the right on a city street, the right front wheel of the sparkling orange, modern tractor broke away in front of me. Though I hit my brakes hard, the truck driver didn't. Seems he knew from experience not to do that. How did I know? Until I solved it, I had the same experience on my sports car βabout forty times.
After passing the truck, yet watching the wheel's path, I stopped to help. The driver pounded the steering wheel, as though it was at fault and beating it would fix the problem. After his tantrum, I walked back to him and his copilot. Both coarse, olive skinned men in orange wigs and all black, sleeveless jumpsuits looked in their forties; both had trucker tans on both arms which told me they switched off driving. "This used to happen to me all the time. Can I help?"
The driver calmed and stretched out his hand, "Thanks for getting out of the way and stopping for us. I'm Sam and this is my brother Kobal. It looks like the cotter pin snapped again and the castle nut unscrewed -again- and took the wheel with it. That was my last pin."
These good Samaritans never learn!
"Hmm, why don't you guys chase down the wheel. I may have something that can help. I don't have my torque wrench with me, but I do have a good feel. The biggest channel-lock pliers I have will work and the wire hanger from my dry cleaning is a perfect temporary 'cotter pin.' Do you have a jack for the tractor?" Sam shook his head 'yes.' It was pumpkin orange.
As they lugged the wheel back, I found the castle nut and checked that the wheel bearings were still in place. They were well worn. We nested the bearings and wrestled the wheel in place. Kobal tightened the spindle nut finger tight and I used the channel-locks to tighten it another 1/4 turn to about twenty ft pounds of torque before backing it off to insert my makeshift cotter pin to hold it in place. "That should hold you for several thousand miles, if the bearings hold up, and give you time to replace them. Oh shit!"
"Yup, smells like it too," opined Kobal. "Let us help you now. Take off the shoe and sock before you climb into my cab. We have fresh water and cloths in the living space and I'll wash your shoe for you out here. You can relax on our bed/bench while it dries. I'd rather leave the scent outside, if you don't mind being barefoot for an hour."
I didn't see the harm, so I agreed.
Too bad I wasted so much time polishing my shiny black shoes.
Sam led me to the surprisingly spacious living area and began washing my foot. He took off my other shoe and sock so I could lie back on the bench and put both my feet in his lap. When I asked about their load and why the truck was orange and black, he said it was their annual Halloween run to supply the city with costumes and pranks.