"What are you doing out here alone, young feller?" The guy in the jeep asked.

"It was like this," I said, honestly explaining my predicament. "Ron and Dan and I were camped out on the Watford Trail." The Watford Trail is a series of jeep roads that stretch between a dozen old ghost towns. At one time it was the main supply route for the mines but now it is only used by weekend explores and desert fanatics.

All three of us had graduated from high school earlier in the month and Ron had gotten us pumped up on taking the trip. Ron was a desert fanatic and he'd borrowed his dad's new four-wheel drive pickup to show Dan and I what the desert was all about. It was okay, but I'm not really an outdoorsy type, and Dan felt about the same way.

We camped away from other people on the third night and had laid down a tarp and spread our sleeping bags out. "You know what would really be cool?" Ron mused as we lay looking up at the jillion stars.

"What?" Dan answered.

"Finding an old cabin or something like that that nobody else knew about. Out back, covered up, would be an original army jeep in perfect condition that had been abandoned. All it would need would be gas, air in the tires, and a new battery. That would be so sweet." Ron wanted his own four-wheel drive in the worst way, but he had to finish college first and jeep ownership was a long ways away.

"That would be okay, I suppose," Dan opined, "but what I'd really like is to come across a couple of chicks stuck out here somewhere. We'd fix their rig or pull it out of the ditch or whatever, and they'd be so grateful that they'd drop their pants right there in the sand." I glanced over, and there was just enough light to see that Dan had his hands under the cover and that there was a prominent tent in the middle of the bag. "What about you, Mike, what would ring your bell?"

"Well," I started in slowly. We had all know each other practically all our lives and had showered together in PE and had dated some of the same girls, but we also all had some issues. In addition to the beer that well all drank Ron had a fondness for weed and little white pills that made his eyes look funny. Dan was a sex fiend who always talked about getting laid and who had to jack off at least three times a day, and there was definitely something about me that I'm sure they didn't know. "I think it would be neat as hell to be out in the middle of nowhere with two of my friends. I would be almost asleep when they'd jump me, yank my skivvies down, and clamp onto my balls and threaten to tear them off unless I sucked. One of the would be squeezing my balls while I sucked the other one, and after they both finished they'd make me suck them hard again and then fuck me in the ass." There. I'd finally said what had been on my mind for the last three years. They both knew that I liked girls but neither knew what I really wanted and how I felt every time I saw them naked in the shower. Neither of them said a word, and almost a half an hour passed before Dan rose and thumbed down his shorts to free his erection. Ron finally stood also, hand in his pants fondling his cock.

I was fifteen when a slut gave me my first blowjob, and a little after that she spread her legs for me. I enjoyed the hell out of both experiences and I still like sex with chicks, but at the same time I spent many nights in my bed, legs spread, hand on my cock, thinking about what it would be like to be on the receiving end. I jack off fantasizing about what it would be like having Dan or Ron or any of the other guys I showered with to allow me to take their freshly washed and clean fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and finally eighteen year old cocks in my mouth. I imagined that I'd slowly lick and gently suck their slender cocks until I was rewarded with a warm salty gush of fresh-tasting semen in my mouth while another guy gently caressed my balls.

Ron's grip on my balls was anything but a gentle caress and Dan's dick was no longer slender and none of us had showered in three days. Also, I was not given the option of gently licking or sucking; he was already hard and he summarily grabbed my ears and forced himself deep into my throat and when he came it was a hot choking tasteless glob deep in my throat. I had wanted to give a blowjob, what I got was a face-fucking that left me choking and puking.

Dan's grip on my balls was gentler and Ron's dick was smaller but just as stinky, and I managed to keep one hand on it in order to control the depth of penetration and as a result he came in my mouth instead of deep in my throat. I had tasted my own semen and hand found it not unpleasant. His tasted rank and rotten, and I instinctively spat it out instead of hungrily swallowing every drop like in my fantasy.

I was done. No more. Ron's grip on my balls insisted that I wasn't. Dan's dick was now clean and soft and I actually enjoyed the sensation of it hardening while in my mouth. That is until he raped me with it. I had imagined taking one in the ass felt as good as my gently probing, lubricated finger, but his dick wasn't lubricated and was a hell of a lot bigger than my finger and I cried out-make that screamed-in pain as he entered me.

Nothing was said about it the next day; it was just an act of teenage vandalism that none of the participants would normally have engaged in and that no one knew how got started. "You know what would be neat?" Dan said, avoiding talking about what was on all of our minds. "We'd be riding along like this and see a gleam over on the hillside. We'd stop and go investigate and find an outcropping of gold that had just been uncovered by a landslide. There'd be nuggets the size of eggs lying all over the place. Man, we could live like royalty and have a different chick every night."

"Cool," Ron said, "But what would be really neat was if we happened to see just the tip of an airplane's tail sticking up. The pilot would be dead but the plane would have about a ton of good Mexican weed and a couple of suitcases full of hundred dollar bills. I could buy a new jeep and we could all party for a year."

My ass was still sore and I was leaning against the passenger door just sort of dozing when Ron elbowed me. "What about you Mike?"

It was an honest question, so I gave an honest answer. "I'd be on a quest, you know, kind of a mission to find the guys that had messed with me. I'd finally track them down and tie them up with their legs spread wide. I'd grab the first guy's bag with my bare hand and dig my fingernails in and rip his balls out one at a time then shove each of them up his ass. I'd tie a shoelace around the other guy's balls then put a rock under them and take another rock and mash them into pulp. Then I'd cut their ropes and just leave them there, or maybe haul out my dick and piss all over them."

Ron and Dan looked first at each other then at me as the truck slowed almost to a stop. "What?" I asked. I hadn't meant to offend them, I was just being honest. Dan suddenly reached over my lap and popped the door handle, and then both of them shouldered me out of the truck into the sand and dirt. "Sons of bitches!" I hollered at them as they drove off. It was five miles to the highway and hot as a bastard and I'd have to hoof it.

"It was like this," I told the old guy in the equally old jeep that picked me up. "Ron and Dan and I were camped out on the Watford Trail." I then explained the rest of the story and what had happened to cause me to be stranded in the desert.

"Get out, you fucking pervert!" The old guy exclaimed vehemently, screeching the jeep to a halt and motioning to the open door.

That's how I learned that honesty isn't always the best policy.