I keep repeating to myself that I must avoid the truck stop. The area is supervised by the police, and I have witnessed a few poor scumbags being detained. Ricky, my friend, makes fun of my hesitation. “Friend, you have nothing to worry about as long as you don’t deal drugs and stay away from minors.” Therefore, it’s the truck stop. This is the place to go if you’re looking for “pot luck” sex or a random, anonymous hookup.
I leave after finding a spot in the parking lot. A few guys are sitting in their cars, and some of them are even pretty clearly jacking off. However, a lot of them are holding their phones. Phones are now synonymous with cameras, and I do not require that kind of headache.
I immediately go to the men’s room and enter. For a change, there are no urinals, but the stalls are full. You can generally depend on no less than one person, inactively stroking his meat and glancing around. Many of these guys don’t like to touch; They simply want to display what they have. That’s great. I enjoy looking.
I stroll toward the slows down, scratching my feet as I go (Unwritten Rule #1: Make a sound. Make it known that you are present.) I can see a man’s feet moving around in the stall closest to me as he begins to blow out explosive puffs (Unwritten Rule #2: Assuming you need consideration, effectively get it.).
I pay attention to the man in the stall, so I walk over to the door and look in. The man sitting on the latrine is slouched over, his hand clearly exceptionally bustling between his legs. He is sporting a blue work shirt with pin stripes. Earl is his name, according to the name patch embroidered on his shirt.
I look over to the following slow down, and a youngish blonde man with a delicate, round body is riding the latrine and yanking on a decent, durable chicken. His yellow t-shirt is stained. At his stocking-clad feet, his khaki jams are in a heap. His white two-piece briefs are gripped in one of his clench hands, and he lifts them to his face to breathe in their aroma. He licks his lips and looks directly at me.
I’m intrigued enough to enter and join him, but when I pull on the stall door, it’s locked. Okay, Blondie is just holding an exhibition, which is cool. I concentrate once more on Earl.
Amazingly, Duke is currently standing straight up and confronting me when I investigate his slow down entryway once more (the slow down entryways are overall quite short, which makes a difference). His hair is thick and excessively dark for a man of his age, and it shimmers with anything oily childish stuff he brushes it with. He must purchase the items from antique shops. His eyes are a pale, watery blue, and his face is deeply creased and seamed.
In addition, he has a cock. My God, does he have a rooster. It was difficult to look anywhere else once I turned to look at it. I’m instantly drawn to him because he’s uncut. I’ve seen a lot of cocks, but I’ve only seen a few uncut cocks in flesh. Earl has a foreskin that moves in and out over the cockhead’s brilliant plum. A small, frothy patch of dick cheese is visible to the side. Earl is at least seven inches tall, and it’s possible that he has eight. The thickness of his cock is just right; not too slender to make his length appear slender, nor too slender to ruin the sense of proportion. Michaelangelo would have been proud to sculpt this cockroach.
I mutter, “I want to suck that.” That was humiliating. In most cases, I manage to be a little more sophisticated than that.
“Enter,” he says in a voice so low I nearly missed it.
It appears somewhat crowded inside. Can we travel somewhere?”
“Let me look at what you have.”
I don’t like letting my cock out “in the open,” as they say. Should a cop choose to put his head in at this specific time, I will be unable to make sense of how I’m doing my meat hanging out, something like 15 feet from the urinal. However, Earl is interested, and I’ve already decided that Earl will get what he wants.
I fished around within my fly before removing my hard dick. I begin stroking it, and Duke arrives at over the way to get my chicken and play with it. Additionally, we have caught Blondie’s attention; He is licking his lips repeatedly as he watches the action from behind his door.
I reach over the door and pull on Earl’s cocked, whispering, “My turn.” The foreskin has a lot of interest. The foreskin actually pauses for a moment before slipping back over his stunning cockhead because he is so hard.
Despite the moment’s hushed atmosphere, I make the decision to speak up a little. “Folks, I’m in the state of mind for a party and I have throughout the evening. Is there anywhere we can go?”
“Sorry, can’t accommodate.”
“Perhaps I could blow you in your vehicle?” I supply.
Earl offers, “We could go to my rig.”
“Set the example.” Earl is equipped! However many times as I’ve been to the truck stop, I’m really going to engage in sexual relations with a genuine driver.
Earl raises his pants and leaves. I fiddle around the sink and brush my hair so it doesn’t appear as though I’m following him. Earl walks over to a large tanker rig and climbs into the cab before I get outside. I walk out to the large paved apron where the trucks are lined up, trying unsuccessfully to appear relaxed. I’m tricking nobody. I’m sure that every truck driver there understands why I’m there.
As Earl unlocks the door on the passenger side, I begin ascending to enter the cab. I’ve never been in a real semi before, so this is a new experience for me. Earl is once more lowering his pants and releasing his magnificent erection. I can already tell that falling in love with this man is not going to be easy as he begins to stroke it once more. The bulky shifters, knobs, levers, and other gears fill the space between the two bucket seats, which are far apart.
Earl asks, “Do you want to suck this for me?” while I’m still trying to figure out the logistics. He starts to pant heavily and gasps.
“You better belive I do,” I answer.
He snorts, “Well, you better hurry up because I’m going to shoot right now.”
“Yeah! Get going!” I smile. “Take out that object. You should show me how to pop your hot load! Go for it! Give a show!” I don’t really like Earl’s climax very much, but I don’t want him to think he’s rushing off and ruining things.
Earl grunts right on cue, and a lot of man-juice pours out of his cock and pools on his seat’s fabric. Earl begins to mop up his load after seemingly appearing out of nowhere with a roll of paper towels.
“Oh, crap! That was steamy! I tell him, “I must now go home and jack off.”
“Perhaps we can proceed where we left off the following time,” Lord offers.
“Maybe that’s all we can do.”