Good Samaritan


By Richard Jasper

This one is for Mr. B - rpj

Tony slowed his Ford Ranger when he saw the flashing lights up ahead. At this time of the morning there was precious little traffic on I-94. He'd been dropping off a friend at Detroit Metro and now he was headed back to the city - another late shift in front of him and he hadn't gotten much sleep as it was. Not that he hadn't had a helluva lotta of fun with Patrick. The memory of that shambling musclebear and what he could do with his tongue still made his dick hard!

Tony noticed a woman behind the parked car waving her arms frantically. He didn't think of himself as a Good Samaritan but he knew how to change a tire and he had jumper cables in the back and if nothing else he had his cell phone and the number of a 24 hour towing service.

"Oh, thank God," the woman blurted when he stepped out of the truck. "Thank God you stopped. It's my husband! He slipped down the bank when he was trying to change the tire. I think he's in the river!"

Oh shit! Without thinking, Tony quickly plunged down the bank, heading for the soft splashing noises he could hear over the occasional whine of the freeway. The water was icy cold on this November night and Tony knew he'd have scant minutes before hypothermia set in if he got wet. Fortunately the guy was RIGHT there - turned around in the dark without his glasses, which went flying when he slipped down the embankment. Tony reached the guy quickly, then put his strong arm around the little guy's shoulder and HEAVED. No more than 5'10 and 195 lbs. himself, Tony was nonetheless strong as an ox. He routinely did shoulder shrugs with 140 lb. dumbbells (that's right, one in each hand) and this guy weighed less than that.

Still, the dumbass decided to trip on a root and then they were both underwater. Tony came up for air, spluttering, and half pushed, half dragged Mr. Klutz up the slope and into the car. He tossed his cell phone to Wifey, snarling "Call 911!" before retching on the ghastly river water. He quickly began to strip the woman's husband, then himself. "He'll freeze to death if we don't get him out of these clothes."

And then Tony's teeth started chattering so violently he couldn't talk anymore. Just before passing out, he glanced up to see the green and white sign in front of the bridge:


"Oh, shit," he thought. "Now I'm really fucked."

/ / /

Tony woke with a splitting headache - and something attached to his arm.

It took a minute or two for him to put the pieces together. Gauze curtain, fluorescent lighting, a tube hanging from his furry, well-muscled arm.

"Shit," he said to himself. "I'm in the hospital. I musta swallowed more water than I thought."

The curtain ripped back and Tony found himself staring up at one of the hottest men he'd ever seen, tall, blond, bearded, and built like a Mack truck.

"You're awake now? Excellent. I'm Dr. Gustafson," said the doc, sticking out a hand the size of a meat hook. "How are you feeling?"

Tony just stared, then shook his head.

"My head is splitting, otherwise I feel fine," Tony replied. Better than fine, looking at this guy!

The doctor grinned.

"Helps that you're in such great shape," Dr. Gustafson pointed out - and Tony realized this guy had probably seen him in the buff. The doc squeezed Tony's meaty bicep, an action that automatically resulted in its flexing. It felt damned good, to tell the truth!

Then Tony remembered.

"Oh, yeah, what about the guy?"

Gustafson frowned.

"Well, that hasn't gone as well as we'd hoped.. Mr. Portcullis - the gentleman you pulled out of the river - is having a hard time of it. Which is why we're keeping you here another 24 hours for observation"

Tony began to feel vaguely worried.

"What's the matter with him?"

Gustafson shook his head.

"We don't really know, although he seems to be having respiratory distress. And rapid weight loss."

Tony snorted.

"Well, that's not good. He was a skinny little fu.uh, just a skinny dude."

Gustafson gave Tony an odd look.

"He was bigger before he fell in the river, ya know. Just about as big as you are, in fact."

Tony gasped.

"No way, Doc! The guy couldn't have weighed more than 140 sopping wet - and he WAS sopping wet."

Gustafson shrugged his massive shoulders - damn he looked fine!

"Even so. That's why we want to keep you under observation. I'll get you something for that headache. Now get some sleep."

Tony yawned as Gustafson left his bedside. Getting some sleep seemed like an excellent idea, although this raging hard-on wasn't helping any. It's a wonder Gustafson didn't comment on the way the sheet had been wiggling. Tony put his strong, smooth hand on his thick, powerful tool just in time to feel it spasm uncontrollably. It seemed to go on and on, a veritable river of cum. And as soon as it was done, Tony was fast asleep once again. •

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