in a truck stop – Mansploitation

The Raunchy Trucker

Elton is in for a raunchy experience, when he accidentally goes into an anything-goes cruising showerhouse at a truck stop, so a bevy of the filthiest, nastiest truckers around make Elton as disgusting as possible. Can Elton make it out of there?

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Read the whole thing here!

At the Ramwide Truck Stop near Tuscaloosa, Alabama, Elton didn’t notice a small placard on the door. He had pulled over to use the bathroom — he drove a four-door sedan, not a truck, but he had to piss real bad and he was a frequent visitor to other truck stops. He hoped to both drain his bladder and maybe get a nut off in the showerhouse. Ramwide Truck Stops were notorious cruising spots, full of nasty men who didn’t mind jerking off another fellow.
That was good for Elton, who was single now and sometimes needed a little release. Plus, he needed to piss.
The placard he ignored said ‘This building is for adults-only, and it is a free-for-all. If you go in here, you are signaling your consent to anything that occurs in this building. There is another showerhouse nearby without this sign.’ Elton would have gone to the other showerhouse if he’d known it was an option or if he’d seen the placard.
But he didn’t see it. He didn’t even realize it was a showerhouse until he went in, he assumed it was simply a bathroom. His Ramwide Truck Stop — the one near his house — didn’t have two showerhouse options. There was just one, and there was usually some mincing pervert in there jacking off men. The parking lot of this truck stop was filled with semis. Maybe that was the difference between the two truck stops, the one by Elton’s house didn’t see many actual truckers, it was just a pit stop for ordinary drivers. This one only really saw truckers come through. The non-truck area of the parking lot was tiny, and Elton’s car was the only one there.
Elton did not realize any of that. He didn’t even see the placard, much less read it and heed it. He entered the anything-goes showerhouse.
There was a large, wide open showering area with those old-fashioned pillar showers, the entire inside looked old-fashioned, Elton thought, like something out of an early twentieth century dormitory shower. A dozen naked truckers stood among the showerhead-pillars, silently staring at Elton. They were hairy and burly, decked with muscle like bulls, nostrils flaring as they looked him up and down.
He nodded and blushed. He considered leaving because the men made him uncomfortable, but he thought it would look weak. He’d be humiliated even if no one but he and these truckers knew about it. He went to the trough urinal. He always hated those — he was sensitive about his cock size — but luckily no one else was here.
But the truckers were staring at him. He could tell. They were completely silent, but he knew they weren’t silent before he walked in. That meant they had stopped talking to watch him. If he had known about the sign, he would have surely fled.
It was one of those truckers who joined him at the trough, before Elton could even start concentrating on peeing. A man had followed him in, a burly trucker with a rough-and-tumble mustache, a very small gut and bulging shoulder muscles that were bared by his sleeveless shirt. He went by the name Manky, and on his face a lifetime of brawling left remnants in the form of his crooked, squat nose and off-kilter chin.
He whipped out the most massive dong Elton had ever seen. It was thicker than Elton’s forearm and longer than his feet. Manky wasn’t shy about it, and he stood right next to Elton even though he had plenty of room at the trough. He flopped his dick left and right.
“Whatchoo think?”
Elton blushed intensely. He had always been embarrassed about his dick size. It was just barely three inches long fully erect, and it was much shorter right now because it was a chilly day (though warm in the showerhouse) and he was scared. It shriveled up even as he looked down at it, wishing he could pee.
Manky aimed his dick at Elton’s dick and let his piss stream. He laughed when Elton jumped away, and he aimed his piss at Elton instead.
“You got a small dick, boy. Somethin’ wrong wit’choo?”
“No…”
“Well then you made a real mistake comin’ in here,” Manky said. “Get in the trough.”
“What?”
“Lay down in there. Now,” Manky said. He grabbed Elton and tossed him against the wall.
Elton yelped, and he looked around frantically for a way out. The truckers surrounded him, and he’d have to pass through a dozen of them to make it to the door. That was the only door too. There weren’t even any windows in this showerhouse except a couple narrow slits up near the ceiling. Elton would need a ladder to get up to them, and even then he probably wouldn’t fit through them.
That trucker Manky laughed, along with the others, at the terrified look on Elton’s face. Manky grabbed him again, and he threw him into the urinal trough. The stainless steel was sticky, and it was rank with the smell of piss. Elton instantly gagged. The acrid smell hit his nostrils and made his eyes water.
“Please, wait, stop!”
He punched Elton hard in the belly, hard enough to hurt, though the angle was off for Manky to punch as hard as he could. It was enough to knock the wind out of Elton. All the watching truckers guffawed. Elton writhed, gasping for air, as Manky let his hog loose and aimed it at Elton in the trough.
For a moment, nothing happened. Elton wondered if this was it, maybe it was a prank and Manky just wanted to teach him a lesson, to show that he could put him in the urinal trough and piss on him. Maybe now he’d let Elton go.
But no, Manky was serious. He sighed and let out a crooked smile when he began urinating. Piss flowed over Elton’s shirt and soaked into his skin. The bitter taste of it hit Elton’s senses, even though he shut his lips. The truckers howled from all around the showerhouse, and one of them came running.
He was a lanky mustachioed trucker with tattoos covering his hairy chest and a big swinging dick. He started pissing even before he got to the trough. “Hot damn, a ppissy piggie!” He sprayed his piss right in Elton’s gagging face, and he started making oinking hog-like noises. Manky hadn’t even finished pissing yet, so now Elton had two streams of hot urine landing on him.
“Oink! Oink!”
Elton sputtered and screamed, the truckers in the shower at the other end all coming over to watch. Then, before the first one had even begun, they all began pissing as well. The acrid urine washed over Elton’s face and soaked into his clothes. His mouth filled and overflowed with it.
“Oink, oink, pervert! Ya fuckin’ suit, comin’ in here like the pussy you is! You deserve this, piss-face!”
The oinks filled the air and resonated in the linoleum-tiled shower. It was deafening to Elton, who yelled and sobbed. He had no idea how long it lasted. It felt like he was drowning, like that piss filled his lungs. He kept trying to crawl out of the trough, but Manky shoved him back in over and over.
But finally it was done, or seemed to be — those two truckers were finished urinating. A few men showered on the other side of the showerhouse, chatting about football, as though they didn’t notice or care what was happening to Elton. Elton weakly climbed out of the trough only for Manky to shove him back in.
“C’mon, please-“
“Nah. You my piss-piggy. Our piss-piggy,” Manky said. He chuckled. “You don’t get out til I say you can get out.” He licked his teeth and looked Elton up and down. “Alright, you can get out.”
Elton thought maybe that was it, but Manky grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out of the urinal trough. His skin was soaked with piss. Manky didn’t seem to care about the urine getting everywhere. Elton screamed, but the sound of the men talking, oinking, showering, carrying on, all that overpowered Elton’s screams. Even someone walking directly past the showerhouse, like three feet from where Elton was right now, wouldn’t be able to tell that someone was screaming in here.
“C’mon piss piggie, you really did it now. I hope you love being a raunchy little bottom,” he said. “Actually scratch that. I hope you ain’t love it. I like making piss piggies squirm.”
He shoved Elton to the ground on his belly, then squatted behind him and rammed his cock — still only half-hard — into Elton’s ass. Elton screamed, and the truckers resumed their oinking.
“Oink, oink, little piggie! You came in the wrong shower fo’ sho’!”
The pain in his ass was indescribably intense, and it had only just begun. Elton wanted to writhe in agony, but Manky kept one hand on his scalp and one on the back of his neck, forcing him to remain in the same position, flat on his belly. Manky pounded his cock into him.
He grunted and hissed in Elton’s ear. His skin was tan and dirty, he smelled like car exhaust, or like diesel fumes. He had a hairy chest, and the fur scratched at Elton’s back as Manky’s muscles weighed him down.
Someone turned the showers on, so lukewarm water sprayed over Elton’s face. As least that, he thought cleaned off some of the piss. That hadn’t slowed down Manky, whose grimy face suggested he had never cared about cleanliness — as he rutted like an animal, he licked Elton’s cheek, nibbled on his ear and felt up every inch of his piss-covered body. Oink! Oink! Elton cried into the linoleum as Manky humped his dick into full erection.
“Don’t worry, lil piggie, I can make you open up…”
Whenever he encountered resistance, he punched Elton in the ribs, resulting in so much pain that Elton loosened his ass. At last Manky’s massive cock was rock hard, ramming into him. He had Elton in a tight hold, both of his hairy arms wrapped around Elton’s chest.
Elton couldn’t help but squirm, even though he could tell that was exactly what Manky wanted. Elton sobbed into his greasy forearms. He even bit down, but Manky seemed to be impervious to pain.
“That piggie got a dick like a pinkie! A pinkie-piggie!”
They rolled over the floor of the showerhouse. One moment Manky was on top, slamming his hips down into Elton’s as though he wanted to shatter it like glass. The next moment, Elton was on top, looking up at the ceiling and trying to get some leverage to pull away.
“Little dick, little pig!” the truckers chanted over and over. They started off jacking themselves off as they watched Manky cornhole Elton, but that soon changed into a circlejerk. They laughed and giggled like children — hairy, tattooed children — as they stroked each other’s fat cocks.
“Please… stop… why?”
“Hey, hey, shut up for a second,” Manky said, yelling for silence. He still had to shout to be heard over the showerheads that continued to spray lukewarm water, but the naked truckers stopped chanting. Manky grabbed Elton’s hair to bring his face up, so everyone could see it. His other tattooed forearm was pinned against Elton’s neck, his foot long cock throbbing in Elton’s guts. Manky kissed him on the ear. “This oinker wants to know why this is happenin’. Who wanna explain?”
One of the truckers stepped forward. He was a hefty man, hairy from head to toe, with long black hair. He looked like he might have some trace of Mexican heritage.
“Alright, little piss-piggie, here’s the deal,” he said. “My name is Skullhole. That ain’t my proper name, in case you was wonderin’. It’s uh… it’s what my prison bitch used to call me.” As he talked, he fed his dick into Elton’s throat. It was already hard because he had been circlejerking with the other truckers, and he leaked precum directly down Elton’s throat.
“Listen up, piss-piggie, pay attention. It’s important,” Manky said, pulling tighter on Elton’s hair to get his attention. Pain blistered up and down Elton’s body.
Skullhole continued. “You’s in the left-hand showerhouse at an Ramwide Truck Stop. They’s sometimes got two men’s showerhouses. One of ’em’s got a sign that say it’s, uh… Sort of a free-for-all. You give up yo’ right to say no by stepping foot inside this showerhouse. It’s a place for real men, men who wanna blow a load but don’t wanna worry ’bout liberal bullshit like consent.”
In one quick motion, Skullhole pulled away from Elton and punched one of the other, younger truckers in the belly. The younger man fell to the ground and groaned. Skullhole grabbed his hair and his neck and bent him over as though he was going to cornhole him just like Manky was doing to Elton.
“Hey, get off me, asshole!” the younger man said, squirming. Skullhole’s hard cock throbbed between his cheeks, but he made no effort to penetrate him.
“See? I could cornhole this young’un right here. I would too, cuz he got a pretty ass, but his daddy is a good man. I owes him a favor,” said Skullhole. He paused. “I will stick my finger in a little, just to make sure he don’t forget I could cornhole him anytime I want.” He rammed one of his fingers in the young man’s ass.
“Get ‘im, Skullhole!”
The young trucker let out an agonized howl, and he squirmed away from Skullhole, who let him go. Then he came back to Elton and rubbed his finger off on Elton’s tongue. The taste of foul asshole and grease hit his senses, making Elton’s eyes bug out. Elton gagged vociferously, even moreso when Skullhole slipped his cock back in.
True to his nom du guerre, Skullhole grabbed ahold of Elton’s head. He rammed his cock down Elton’s throat, ignoring resistance, banging and using all of his weight to get his dick in.
It felt like something in his throat was going to break, but somehow Elton’s gullet stretched to accommodate. Skullhole’s massive dick visible pressed against Elton’s neck from the inside.
“We gonna drown that bitch in cum!”
Skullhole shot a massive load, spraying it so deep in Elton’s throat he didn’t even really taste it. It wasn’t until Skullhole pulled his dick out that Elton tasted a burst of salty cum on his tongue. That massive cock flopped out of his mouth and roped around on his face, leaving a sheen of jizz and spit and who-knew-what fluids.
“Damn, his dick really is little-bitty. That’s basically a clitoris, bitch.”
“Don’t say that, man, I wouldn’t never do none of this to no female. He better be a man.”
He heaved hoarsely for breath. He was dizzy, both from the pain and from lack of oxygen. He was too tired even to cry anymore. He sat submitted limply to Manky’s plowing while he watched the truckers circlejerk above his head.
When the first trucker came, a hefty white man with long black hair and swarthy skin, he stepped forward just as he started moaning. He blushed as his trucker buddies laughed, and his tattooed muscles flexed in rolling waves.
He sprayed his cumwad right on Elton’s open mouth. Elton wanted to look away, but the pain in his ass was so intense he couldn’t bear to. He cried as cum sprayed over his face.
“Here they go, piss-piggie with the li’l prickie,” Manky said with a moan as he pulled his dick all the way out, then slowly reinserted it only when Elton’s asshole lost its numbness. That revitalized the pain in Elton’s ass. His entire body felt like it was tearing apart from the inside out.
More cum sprayed onto his face. He couldn’t even see what was happening anymore, he just felt cum covering him. It was hot and creamy, and it dripped all over him. The truckers didn’t seem to mind getting it on them — which confused Elton, because they talked like he should be humiliated for getting cummed on, but all of them got cummed on too! A lot of the younger truckers disliked circlejerking like this. They had to stroke each other’s greasy hogs. Even just after the shower, most of them remained slick and unclean-feeling, at least to those who weren’t used to it.
To Elton, it all seemed gross. He couldn’t imagine why they were calling him a pervert over and over when he was the only one not willingly participating. They were the perverts, he thought, but even if he could say that out loud right now, nobody was paying attention to his desperate pleas or his cries for help. They jacked each other’s meat as though it was going out of style, and they rubbed their dicks in each other’s cumwads on his face. Manky even got some cum on his hands and face, but he shrugged it off.
The truckers popped off like flies, coating Elton’s face in cum. Manky kept Elton’s head out of the shower water for the most part — he rammed so wildly he slid Elton all over the showerhouse — so the cum collected on his face, along with grime from the floor and spit which Manky continually spat onto Elton’s lips and nose.
Finally the truckers were all done. Huge gobs of cum dripped off his face. He could feel it seeping into his flesh. He knew he’d smell like a cumrag for days no matter how much he cleaned himself. One hairy trucker rubbed his balls over Elton’s face, collecting all of his buddies’s cum so it clung to his unkempt nest of ball-hair.
“Lick it clean, piggie!” He barked over and over.
Elton thought cum had tasted bad, but it tasted even worse when it was mixed with sweaty trucker balls and remnants of soap. The cum coated his tongue and made the salty sweat cling to the inside of his mouth. He struggled not to bite down — he knew that would give him a moment of satisfaction, but he’d probably be killed.
Finally that last brawny trucker walked away, dragging his saliva-dripping balls over Elton’s face. Pitiful weakling. They cackled and clasped each other on the back, repeatedly slapping each other’s asscheeks too. Skullhole even rammed his finger back in the younger trucker’s ass as they walked away from Elton. He wiggled his finger but didn’t stop the younger trucker from scampering away.
“Get the fuck off me, Skullhole, damn…”
“Shut up, li’l one. I still got enough nut in my balls to turn you into my next pussy.”
“Hey piss-piggie, if you stick around we’ll be back in a little while. We’ll ram you in the ass if you want.”
“Or if you don’t.”
“Yeah. If you don’t, we’ll ram you even harder.”
Elton sobbed, his lower half numb now as Manky finished. Elton could feel the orgasm rippling over Manky’s hairy muscles, which weighed down Elton’s back. Manky punched Elton even though he wasn’t resisting. He punched just to make Elton yelp and squirm some more.
“Lemme hear it…” Manky said with a loud moan that made the truckers applaud. He pointed to different spots above Elton’s crotch and around his hips. “Where you think my orgasm is? Huh? Lemme hear it when I point to where you feel it. Huh? Boy? What’s goin’ on?”
The agony was too intense for Elton to speak. He screamed into the linoleum the best he could, but Manky’s belly and chest pressed him down. That made it impossible for him to take a deep breath.
“My orgasm is e’rywhere, boy,” he said with a long, low growl aimed right in Elton’s ear. That made Elton shudder, which in turn sent a shiver of sensitive pain from his sphincter, which clenched.
Cum sprayed into Elton’s ass. It was hot and thick and it seeped into his flesh. He wept into the filthy shower floor. It was so much, it kept coming, wad after wad as though Manky was pumping it in from a reservoir. It stank already, and Elton gagged at the sensation.
“You fillin’ ‘im up now?! Lemme watch!”
A few of the truckers came over and peered just inches from Elton’s asshole. They wrinkled their noses as though they were disgusted, but they still watched intently, like scientists who had no idea how this worked.
“You one nasty-ass truck stop piggie now, bitch.”
But eventually they lost interested. Manky remained atop Elton, his dick so deep it felt like it touched every part of Elton’s innards. Every time Elton moved so much as a breath, it made his asshole ache more. Manky breathed heavy. Elton couldn’t tell if he was still cumming — which seemed impossible — or if it just felt that way because he wiggled has limpening cock, moving cum around and turning it into a frothy mess that spilled out of his ass. It coated Elton’s thighs and soaked into the linoleum floor. Since there was water on the floor, some of that santorum mess floated to Elton’s face and coated him. He tasted his own ass along with the ball-sweat, cum, saliva and more that already covered him.
The truckers filed out, still only half-dressed. They were spent, so they no longer cared. Moments later the sound of their engines roaring filled the air. Elton tried to get up, but Manky was on top of him.
“Damn, piss piggie, that was good,” Manky said with a sigh. The shower was very quiet now that the truckers were gone. Manky’s deep voice was right next to Elton’s ear, so it boomed and echoed.
“Please, get off me…” Elton sobbed.
“If you make it back out that door, you’ll be under the protection of the law,” Manky said, “So I really hope you don’t. I hope you stick around until I’m ready to ram you again.”
He burped into Elton’s face. He lifted his chest up off Elton’s back and ground his dick into Elton’s ass, moving it in a tortuous circle. Elton screamed and gagged intensely now that he could breathe. Manky punched him right in the meaty part of the back, over and over as he finished the after shocks of his orgasm.
Only then did Manky slowly back up so that his fat cock plopped out. “But I’m not gonna stop you from walkin’ out that door, unless you take a long time to get out there. I wanna give you a fair chance. Don’t nevuh say I was all bad, piss-piggie. And goddamn, if that’s the only dick you got, you shouldn’t nevuh whip it out among real men. A man with a cock like that is just beggin’ to get cornholed.”
Elton had to crawl away. When he tried to stand his ass hurt too bad. It took what felt like eons but then he made it to the door as Manky still talked. It was so heavy he strained to open it.
He stumbled outside, stark-naked, and ran into another massive trucker, like Manky but taller. Behind him were a handful more, all with sick smiles on their hairy faces.
“Fuck,” one of them said. “He made it out.”
“We’re too late.”
“Damn it!”
“I’m rammin’ one of you, I swear to god. I am not letting myself get blue-balled again.”
Elton’s naked body gleamed with cum and water, and he pushed through the dirty bodies of the men. They smelled awful too, just like the truckers, but Elton was covered in so much filth he didn’t notice. He just sobbed and staggered forward. They glared at him and muttered insults about his cock size, but Elton didn’t care. He collapsed onto the ground. He might look like a pussy right now. He admitted that. He no doubt looked like a weakling, and his ass hurt so bad he wasn’t sure he’d ever walk normally again.. But he just didn’t care about any of that.
He had made it. He was free.

The Fat Trucker

Bart is visiting the legendary Ramwide Truck Stop when he stumbles across a thickbody trucker, who’s desperate for a little action. Bart loves big men, big-time, and he can’t wait to help out this Fat Trucker!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Bart stapled a flyer on the bulletin board in front of the truck stop diner. He tried to look like he belonged, because he didn’t — he was no trucker, and he didn’t have permission to post on this bulletin board.
But it didn’t look like anyone regulated this particular bulletin board. Somebody had written, in pen on a blank scrap of paper, in scrawling block letters: call Ricky to ram in ass, nasty, gross, fat, loves it up the butt no I don’t yes he does especially if you are black he will love it yum yum that’s what he always says. So obviously this was not a strictly monitored bulletin board. Bart hadn’t asked for permission because he thought they — whoever was in charge — would probably say no.
The flyers that Bart put up were professionally produced, so they looked out of place here. They had a picture of a pretty thick woman and a phone number in big letters. Looking for plus-size female models for a clothing line. That was what Bart did as a side-hustle, he was a fashion photographer. He was always on the lookout for thick females. He thought this truck-stop would be a fine spot to search in.
Bart himself had no interest in women of any size. He liked his men as big as the women he photographed, or even bigger. So for him, this truck-stop had an even better attraction than the women — the men.
Truck-stops were full of hefty hunky dudes, precisely the kind that Bart adored. They were mostly, but almost all were willing to mess around with tiny twinks like Bart. Now that he had done his work, hanging up the flyer, he took a look around the truck-stop to scope out his possibilities.
There was a thick-ish dude over there who was kind of hot, but not hot enough to get Bart’s motor going. A couple of skinny weirdos at a picnic table, passing a joint around. Bart wandered towards the parking lot full of semis, some of them with idling engines, others cold and silent like steel skeletons.
A few women were around. Prostitutes probably. Some might have been willing to model for Bart, but he had long ago learned that approaching them never worked out well — hence the flyer. In person, they usually thought he was a pimp, despite his small stature and flamboyant personality.
“Hey, baby, whatchoo doin’ tonight? Huh? You wanna play a game?” asked a trucker, who glanced up at Bart as he walked past. The girl in skimpy clothes, with a tattoo of Roger Rabbit on her neck, grinned and batted her tired eyes.
She was too skinny to model for Bart, he thought idly. This truck-stop was loaded with lot lizards. That was going to make it hard for him to find a man.
He saw an appropriately hefty man behind a truck, getting sucked off by a middle-aged woman. Bart tried to sneak up to check him out. The man was thick and hairy, with a powerful body but plenty of padding overtop it. His side-fat jiggled as he moaned and threw his head back. The prostitute’s head was lost in the meat of his belly.
His dick glistened with spit and precum. Bart approached, making more noise than he had intended. The trucker glanced back at him and smirked. “You wanna join in, hoss?”
“I-“
“No way, that costs extra,” the woman said. She glared at Bart. “You gotta pay — I-” She cut herself off and looked Bart up and down. “You want in? Thirty bucks.”
Bart licked his lips. He came near the trucker. “Can I play a little with you? I’m not interested in the woman.”
“The woman?” She looked up at Bart with a sneer. “How dare you-?” Then the fat truck got his dick back in her mouth, and she shot mean eyes up at Bart but didn’t try to say anything else.
He kissed the man’s thick fleshy bicep, sucking up the sweat that had collected on his hairy arms. The man shrugged and resumed plowing the prostitute’s face. She glanced up at Bart as though to ask why he would do something like this without getting paid.
But Bart just shrugged and stroked the man’s plus-sized ass. He sucked the sheen of sweat off his belly too, and fully intended to keep on going when the man moaned and grunted. He shot a thick load with an intensely cottony smell into the woman’s mouth. Bart was disappointed. He licked the man’s asscheeks, but the trucker just ignored him and pulled his pants up when he was done. He paid the woman — who grabbed more money out of the man’s wallet and glared at him as though daring him to say anything — then he just walked away.
She glanced at Bart. “You’re nasty, you sick fuck,” she said. “At least I charge money.”
Bart shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble hearing you over the sound of your bony body clanking like a sac of rusty rebar,” he said, raising his voice as though to be heard over the sac of rebar. He walked away, leaving her to stew and look for another client.
Way too many females here to have a chance, Bart thought. He frowned to himself. Maybe he should just move on. He needed to put flyers up in more places today, he had simply hoped he’d get lucky here before going anywhere else.
He walked among the maze of parked semis, in hopes of finding a desperate enough man. He did see a chunky trucker taking a piss, but he was done before Bart got close enough to watch or join in or even see how handsome he really was. The door to the trailer behind him opened up.
“You foul-ass stinkbug! Oh shit that was nasty! You are fucking disgusting! You smell like my grandfather’s shoe!” said a girl as she climbed out of the truck. She looked very young from behind, Bart thought, but her face was tired and weary, and she had a network of tattoos visible on her bare midriff. She shouted into the truck. “You had better pay me, or I’ll send Martin after ya-!”
“What do you think Martin’ll say if he knows you turned down a man?”
“He don’t want my pussy stinking like some fat-ass sonofabitch!” She took a few steps away on wobbly legs, then stopped to put her heels back on. She tottered unsteadily. “And by the way, guys with manboobs the size of a German shepherd shouldn’t call women ‘chunky’!”
“I meant it as a compliment!” The man bellowed, but she was already gone. He glanced over at Bart. He nodded and closed the door to his truck.
Bart’s heartrate rose. There was an ideal target.
The trucker was heavy, but not really obese: he was obviously strong, with plenty of manmeat. He wore a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, and his pants were around his ankles revealing threadbare boxers. He was hairy and his belly jutted out marvelously, not huge like Santa, but big and round and stout. His arms were powerful and meaty, his pecs fleshy and jigglesome when he moved or spoke or did anything really. He barely fit in the doorway, and he walked like his cock was as fat as the rest of him.
Bart knocked on the door. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Eh… hang on.” The trucker’s voice sounded tremulous. He was back in the sleeper, and he fidgeted with something. He frantically moved around back there. “I… That chick was my girlfriend, you know. I wasn’t… I ain’t pay her for nothin’ illegal, suh, just so you know!”
“That’s not — I’m not a cop!” Bart called out. He sighed. He often came across as a cop in places like this. That was because he was slim and spoke properly. He didn’t really fit in. “I swear! I’m not a cop.”
The trucker opened the door. “What do you want then?”
“I just wanted to see how horny you were,” Bart said. He blushed. “My name is Bart. I’d like you to ram me.”
“What?”
“I want you to ramrod me. Stick your dick in my ass. You know about ramrodding-?”
“Yeah. It’s what black guys do to white dudes in prison,” the trucker said.
“That’s… They don’t have a patent on it. You can ramrod me, it’s not illegal.”
“Still gross.”
Bart shrugged. “If you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to… But I’ll offer you fifty bucks.”
“You serious? I ain’t into that trip. That’s some kinda nasty,” he said. “And it ain’t in the Bible.”
“Neither’s fuckin’ prostitutes.”
“She ain’t fuck me. And she weren’t no prostitute, that was my girlfriend,” the trucker said with a knowing grin. “Name’s Dabney. Dabney Cosgrove.”
“Hi Dabney.How ’bout I up the ante. I’ll offer you a hundred dollars to ram me?” Bart said. He snuck one of his hands up Dabney’s boxer shorts. Dabney stood in the driver’s side door of his semi, so he was much higher than Bart. Bart could peer under his boxers, and see a big shadowy dark spot he assumed was the man’s low-hanging cock and balls.
He slapped Bart’s hand away. “Now I know you a cop, cuz ain’t no pinkdick punks like a big hairy ass like me. I thought limp-wrists like you was is into prettyboys with long hair and skinny butts.”
“Why don’t you let me prove I’m not a cop?”
“How?”
“Turn around, bend over and let me kiss your asshole. Would an undercover cop kiss a fat redneck’s ass?”
Dabney thought about it for a long time, then he shrugged and nodded. He checked that no one could see before turning around. He pulled down his boxers, revealing a big ass that was ruddy and inflamed from sitting so much. He spread his cheeks, which were hairier than his unshaven cheeks. The hairs on his ass were matted to his skin with sweat.
Bart had to step onto the ledge leading into the driver’s side of the semi, but Dabney was already there, leaning over and jutting his bare ass out. That made it a delicate balancing act, and Bart struggled to get up there. When he did, he dove enthusiastically in and rammed his tongue right into the sweat-silkened hole of Dabney’s rotund ass.
He only left it there for a moment. Dabney yelped and laughed. He turned around and slapped his dick over Bart’s face, and Bart was glad to see it was as big as he thought it’d be. Some kind of fat men have small cocks, cuz their bellyfat subsumes it. Others have huge cocks around which the fat doesn’t grow in the same way. Bart, of course, preferred the latter, and he found he had a sixth sense for detecting which fat men had which kind.
Dabney’s belly hit Bart’s forehead, the hair scratching at his skin, and it softly jiggled around him. Bart’s hands ran up that maginificent body to Dabney’s fatty tits, which caused the massive pectoral muscles underneath to ripple.
“That’s nasty. You just hang out in truck stops lettin’ fat dudes ram you?”
Bart blushed. “You gonna judge me or you gonna make a hundred dollars?”
“I’m gonna do both.” Dabney moved out of the way to let him in. Bart didn’t wait, so he bumped into Dabney as the much larger man worked his way into the sleeper. Bart kissed those hairy cellulite-ridden asscheeks before Dabney plopped onto his bed.
It stank in here. That was why the prostitute had left. She had been willing to put up with Dabney having a belly, and she was willing to put up with him being hairy, and she was willing to put up with him having a big knobbly dick that was going to hurt, but she wasn’t willing to put up with getting rammed in a sleeper compartment filled with the scent of Dabney’s thickish sweat. It was a very strong aroma. Bart couldn’t blame her. He didn’t feel the same way, but he wasn’t surprised the woman did.
That fruity body-odor smell billowed forth into Bart’s nostrils, and it was strong enough to bring tears to his eyes. Dabney didn’t notice it. He thought she had been exaggerating. He’d be willing to put his boots and dirty clothes outside anyway, he thought, and she didn’t even let him try that before freaking out and stalking off.
This was just as good. Dabney sometimes rammed with the filthy whores who filled certain truck-stops. They were good for a lay, and they didn’t help the smell situation in the sleeper of his truck. Sometimes he rented a motel room to really go to town on a woman — and take a private shower — but that got expensive, and Dabney would rather sleep in his truck’s sleeper.
Bart was smooth and lean, yet he had a fantastically plump ass. He smelled so clean, so unlike any of the whores Dabney visited. Bart’s skin was pale as Dabney’s mother’s fine china, which she never used in case a celebrity came for supper, and he was unblemished from head to toe. Dabney was all blemishes. He got dry skin, too much hair and tufts of ingrown hair that got infected, bacne, something called folliculitis sometimes, Dabney had awful skin. Most of that wasn’t obvious cuz his body hair covered it up.
Dabney pulled his boxers down and let his dick flop out. It was soft, but had just a trace of hardness from the girl he had brought in here for a few minutes. She got him hard before storming away, and then Bart’s quickie rimjob had gotten his dick twitching once more.
So he was already fleshy and firming up when his dick slipped into Bart’s mouth, caressed by his soft lips. At first Dabney didn’t know how to take it — it was just like a woman’s mouth, and he even made little sucking sounds that came across as feminine somehow.
“Oh god… Shit, boy, get deep on it, get real deep on it… You like it nasty, huh?” Dabney said. He gripped Bart’s ears because he had always wanted to do that when getting a blowjob — no girl had ever let him — and he pulled on them to drag Bart’s head up and down. He was exhilarated at finally being able to do that.
Bart looked up to make eye contact with him. The smell of his body odor was intense down here. He had obviously not showered in some time. There was a truck-stop shower right here, but Dabney didn’t use those.
His dick quickly grew as hard as steel in Bart’s mouth. It was big enough to be a challenge to swallow, but it was a challenge Bart adored. He didn’t mind choking on it. He even forced himself to choke and gag as much as he could because that made Dabney moan.
Soon Dabney’s whole body jiggled, his belly rubbing over Bart’s face. That left a sheen of sweat that covered him, and it made that glorious smell stick to his nostrils. The sweat on Dabney’s bellyfat was sticky like spilled juice, and it coated Bart’s skin. He thought the smell would never go away, and he hoped he was right. Bart couldn’t help but pull off Dabney’s dick and went to lick and suck that belly. His tongue snaked into the fold of flesh right over his ribs, inside of which was funky unwashed skin that tasted of unadulterated manhood.
“C’mon, man, get me off,” Dabney whined. “Put ya lips back on it, that felt good. You go deep, damn!” His deep voice was resonant in the tiny sleeper. He kept pulled on Bart’s ears, but he didn’t force Bart to go back to his cock. He just kept trying. “C’mon, man, swallow it, swallow it, swallow it deep. You was so good at that. I wanna get back in ya throat.”
“Hmmm…. Lemme just suck on your titties some, and then I’ll play with your dick,” Bart said. He sucked on each of Dabney’s nipples. Dabney sighed and leaned back, allowing it even as he rolled his eyes and growled in frustration. “Your dick is so big… I wanna joust a little, okay?” He sat in front of Dabney on the mattress, looking tiny in comparison to Dabney’s cavernous belly. He could barely reach Dabney’s nipples, which he sucked on as he thwacked his cock against Dabney’s.
Dabney tried not to be self-conscious. He tried to ignore the fact that it was a dick itself — an actual man’s cock — on him. It was hot and hard. Was his dick that hard? Dabney thought it wasn’t, that his dick was always soft and jiggly in comparison to Bart’s iron-like cock.
But when he touched them both directly, he realized that wasn’t true. It was just weird to handle someone else’s cock, especially someone so skinny and small. Dabney grinned at the sight of his much larger dick pressing against Bart’s, which was nothing to be shameful of. Dabney’s dick approached ten inches though, while Bart’s was a relatively meager seven.
“I’m gonna put my ass on it now, okay?” Bart said, giggling at the sight of Dabney’s shocked look and plump chins jiggling. Bart stood the best he could, crouching to fit and struggling to move on the soft mattress. He turned around, baring his pale ass.
Dabney kissed each asscheek. He did it entirely by instinct, and it took him by shock. That wasn’t something he ever did before.
The feeling of Dabney’s lips on Bart’s smooth booty made Bart giggle and squeal as he lowered his ass towards Dabney’s crotch. Dabney was more aroused than ever. He had never kissed a woman’s asscheeks because he had never been with a woman who had such pert and perky, plump, perfectly poundable asscheeks: smooth, unblemished, hairless. Dabney slathered each cheek in kisses until his spit dripped down Bart’s thighs.
Then Bart sat on his crotch. He had to push on Dabney’s belly to get it out of the way, layers of flab weighing heavily upon him. He kneeled, facing Dabney despite the awkwardity of it. In this position, Bart had to spread his legs wide so he could take in the massiveness of Dabney’s torso. Bart hugged him close, so he could rub his whole body on Dabney’s thickness.
The other nice part about this position was that Bart could see the shocked and maybe frightened look on Dabney’s face.
“Goddamn, man, you’re really — shit, you wanna get rammed somethin’ serious, huh? Gonna get in ya guts, lemme in there,” Dabney said, a sheepish grin on his face.
Then he bit his lip and howled. Just the tip of his dick slipped in, and already it felt so good Dabney thought he might blow his wad. He chuffled back and forth, hands flailing and slapping Bart’s ass because he liked how it jiggled.
A sharp burst of pressure hit Bart, who winced and slowed down. That caused Dabney to grip his ass and massage it. He obviously wanted to pull Bart all the way onto that dick, to impale him completely, but Bart couldn’t take that just yet. He grimaced as he adjusted, leaning on that big plump belly for support.
“Will you ram… Oh god… Be on top…? ” Bart couldn’t speak because of the pressure in his ass. It hurt so good, and it made his voice waver and shake. Every moment it was inside him sent a new wave of sensations through Bart’s body, and each time Dabney pumped his hips, his cock jostled inside Bart and stimulated his prostate, while the motion made Dabney’s magnificent bellyfat shake like jello in an earthquake. Bart moaned and sucked up the sweat clinging to Dabney’s body.
He normally liked riding men on top, but with Dabney, he wanted to be below. He dropped low on Dabney’s cock, while Dabney arduously lifted his head. That kept Bart on his dick, mostly concealed by that roundish belly, and Dabney could pound away without having to look at Bart or be reminded he was not fucking a woman right now..
His bellyfat weighed Bart down, so Bart could barely breathe. He squirmed, his arms and legs flailing, toes curling, fingers tightening into claws that dug at the sleeper-compartment mattress. His ass was wet from his own arousal and from the rivers of precum that Dabney’s dick filled him up with.
Soon Dabney was plowing hard, with abandon, without thought for Bart’s comfort. Dabney had been craving that so hard he didn’t even know it. He’d only managed to get anal one time, and that had been a desultory affair.
This was the hottest thing he’d ever done. It was disgusting, filthy rutting, the way it was supposed to be. Dabney could ram hard like his bottom was just an object, a tight hole with a body attached to it, and no matter how hard Dabney rammed, no matter how much his greasy body slid and slipped over Bart’s formerly clean back, still Bart begged for more.
“Oh god, your dick is so nasty, ram me! Ram it in me! Ram it all the way in me!” Bart called out the best he could despite his inability to take a deep breath.
His prostate thrummed and sent a tsunami of pleasure to crash through him. Bart squealed like a piggie, making Dabney laugh even as the most intense orgasm of his life crashed into him.
Cum sprayed all over. It seemed to be everywhere in the sleeper-compartment. Dabney didn’t even know how that was possible, because he remained deep in Bart’s ass, exploring his innards with his cock, grinding into his guts as he spurted forth wad after creamy wad of cum.
It flowed into Bart, trickling through him. More fluids flew — Bart’s own cum, which Dabney had forgotten about — and spit from both men, because they drooled and Dabney spat instinctively onto the floor of his sleeper. He grunted and spit onto Bart’s ass too, adding more lubrication for his ramming, jamming and slamming.
He couldn’t even tell if his dick was still hard or not. He thought it was, but then when he pulled out and slipped back onto his pillow, leaning against the sleeper wall, his limp dick flopped against his thigh. It glistened with santorum, and Dabney grimaced at the sight of Bart’s gaping asshole.
He slipped one finger in. The sensation was creamy and thick, and Dabney wrinkled his nose. Dabney had never fingered anyone’s ass, but he couldn’t resist it. He rammed his finger in and out, pulling all of the cum out and smearing it over Bart’s asscheeks.
“Goddamn…” Dabney said. “You are one nasty slut.”
Bart turned around and laid his head in Dabney’s lap, letting that hairy belly flop over his face. “Same to you.”
“Don’t you forget to pay me,” Dabney said with a threatening growl.
Bart struggled to reach his pants, then finally got his wallet out. He handed over the cash.
“You come to this truck-stop a lot?”
“No,” Bart said, “Sorry, baby.” He kissed Dabney’s belly and sucked up some of the grease that had collected there. Then Bart sighed and leaned back. He cleaned off his ass, put his clothes back on and smiled at Dabney. “I don’t usually come to the same place twice. There’s always guys around though. You should give one a try.”
“I like girls.”
“Well, then do that first,” Bart said. He climbed out of the semi. “But if you get rejected again, remember you have… other options.” He smiled and waved as Dabney shut the door. The stink and humid heat from the sleeper visibly wafted out from the truck door.
Bart whistled and walked away. He had enjoyed this truck-stop mightily, and he was already planning on which one to go to next, for another curvy, raunchy trucker-stud.

The Trucker

Rob is in for a rough time when he stops at a Ramwide Truck Stop. That’s a chain whose locations are known for no-holds-barred man-on-man action, which is exactly what Rob is hoping for?

Can he handle the studly Southern trucker that the Ramwide is sending him?

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Or read the whole thing here!

Rob walked to the truck stop. He sometimes drove there, but he wanted to get some exercise. The older he got, the more difficult it was to inspire him to take walks, but he insisted on doing it every day no matter what. This way, he’d get his walk in while doing something else he wanted to do.
The truck stop outside of Norbilly, Oklahoma, didn’t usually see a lot of use. It did back in the seventies, when Norbilly was a major manufacturing center, with factories and trucks streaming in and out of town. Those factories were all gone now, the worker housing torn down, trucks no longer coming to town at all.
But there was definitely a truck there today, or there would be soon — Rob thought he would probably beat the trucker there. He had seen the truck drive into the All-Mart in town, and he caught a glimpse of the trucker as he brought merchandise into the back of the store. The trucker hadn’t finished unloading yet when Rob started walking to the truck-stop.
The trucker was a tall, broad-shouldered redneck in a flannel shirt with cut-off sleeves, chest bulging out of his clothes, a big cock that barely fit in his scuffed jeans. He had an unkempt beard and deep-set eyes. Rob had seen him at the All-Mart, and he had a feeling that the man would stop at the truck stop before heading out. He fully intended to be there.
It was a Ramwide Truck Stop. Everyone knew that that meant — at least, everyone who was a trucker or who liked jerking truckers off. That included Rob.
He was glad that no one was there when he finally got to the truck stop, and he was glad to have a few minutes to recover his breath. It didn’t seem like a far way to walk when he drove it, but actually walking it was more difficult. The last part was uphill. He sat down near one of the showerhouses to regain his breath, and he bought a bottle of water from the vending machine.
His timing was impeccable. About fifteen minutes after he arrived, the All-Mart truck came barreling down the highway. At first it looked like he wouldn’t get off into the truck stop, but at the last moment he swerved into the offramp lane.
Not wanting to seem like a stalker, Rob waited in the bushes behind the truck stop showerhouse. There were two showerhouses, one for women, but it didn’t see much use. Rob went to the men’s showerhouse, which was a small concrete rectangle that smelled of athlete’s foot cream and armpit hair.
Rob hadn’t gone in yet. He waited in the bushes behind the parking lot. He saw the trucker get out of the cab of the truck, stretch and yawn, then head into the showerhouse.
That was Rob’s cue. He casually walked around to the front of the building. He knew it would look suspicious since he wasn’t a trucker himself — and he didn’t even have a car parked here — but he didn’t think the trucker would worry about that.
When he walked into the showerhouse, he got hit with that humid, showery scent that always made Rob hard because he associated it with naked men. There was a sign on the door explaining that this showerhouse was for adults with an interest in hardcore plowing (it used more polite language, but that was the gist). Inside it smelled of semen and body hair and piss, sweat, saliva and linoleum, with the faint afterscent of cheap soap.
The trucker stood there at one of the open showering areas — the old-fashioned pillar kind, with a central column that sprayed water in every direction, so the bathers were expected to stand around it in a circle. He hadn’t taken off any of his clothes yet, not even his heavy boots, so there were muddy bootprints leading from the door to the shower.
The shower wasn’t on though. The trucker just stood there with those filthy jeans around his ankles, hairy ass flapping in the breeze, as he let loose with piss. Even though there was a bank of urinals against one wall, he pissed onto the drain in the showering area.
He turned around, belched and flopped his dick between his fingers, the last few drops of piss soaking into his skin. He didn’t seem to mind. He was surprised to see Rob standing there. He grunted a hello.
“Hi,” Rob said. “My name is Rob.”
The trucker grunted again but didn’t say anything.
Rob said, “I love your muscles, you must work out a lot. Great physique.”
The trucker nodded like a hill. He pumped his right bicep. He had never redone the fly of his jeans, so his cock flopped out of his hairy crotch. He had big, curvy biceps that Rob darted forward to lick.
The taste was sour with dried-on sweat and dust from the road, flavored with diesel exhaust and the trucker’s natural odor. His arm was hairy, and his fur scratched at Rob’s tongue. He pulled his arm away.
“You one of dem truck stop queers?”
Rob nodded. “Can I jerk you off?”
He curled his upper lip as though he had to think about it, though Rob had the strong impression he already knew the answer was yes. “You nasty.”
“That wasn’t a no,” Rob said. He sidled forward, but the trucker snarled.
“Weren’t no yes neither,” he said. “You swallow?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lemme see,” he said. “Suck my finger.” He held out his middle-finger as though he was flipping Rob off.
Rob blushed and nodded. He would gladly suck on any body part this nasty, raunchy trucker wanted him to suck on. He stepped forward and moved seductively, opening his mouth into an O-shape even before he got to the trucker’s hand.
He easily deep-throated the man’s middle-finger. Rob was good at it, so he could get the whole thing into his throat without choking, and he even pushed forward farther as though trying to get the man’s entire hand in his mouth. That, of course, didn’t work, but he did force the trucker’s index finger in as well. The taste was sour and salty from sweat.
It looked like the trucker was about to take his finger away. Rob moved his head. But then the trucker angrily rammed his finger back in, so deep Rob couldn’t help but choke. A fresh explosion of grimy-skin flavor hit Rob’s tongue.
He cackled and pushed Rob back. “I only ram males one way, dig? I fuck girls any way they want — nice, slow, hard, fast, I don’t care. I’ll do anything to get my dick wet in some lady-pussy. But I only ram males if they don’t mind gettin’ nasty. That describe you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Don’chu dare back out once we start. You understan’ me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I’m-a ram yer tonsils, and I’m-a ram yer ass. You gonna lick some asshole too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“T’weren’t a question.” He spat on the linoleum floor of the showerhouse.
“Will you spit on me, sir?”
“What?”
“Your spit smells so bad. Spit on my face and in my throat. Please,” Rob said, quaking and blushing. “You’re such a superior alpha male. I need to feel you use me and abuse me. I need-“
He lightly slapped Rob, just hard enough to make a loud slapping sound. A twinge of pain ran up his face, and a twinge of desire ran up his spine. Rob stopped talking.
“Don’t tell me ‘bout your needs, cumbucket,” the trucker said. “You ain’t a girl, I ain’t gotta listen as you babble on ’bout what you want.”
“Yes, sir.”
He bristled and shifted his weight on his feet. “Now it so happens I was gonna spit on yer face. Not cuz you axt me to though.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get on your knees and open your mouth,” he said. He hocked up a loogie, then displayed his rancid mouth full of saliva and phlegm. He hocked again as Rob sunk to his weak knees. He was excited, giddy even, to be doing this — it had been awhile since he bagged a redneck trucker. He opened his mouth and aimed it upward. The trucker formed a kissy face, then let his mouthful of fluids slop out. It plopped moistly into Rob’s mouth, some of it landing on his lower lip. “No swallowin’, bitch.”
The trucker watched Rob squirm with his arms crossed over his chest. He inserted his middle finger back into Rob’s mouth, making him gag this time as he smeared his own spit all over Rob’s tongue. It was foul, fetid, rancid, but it made Rob’s dick so hard he thought it might explode.
“Beg me to let you swallow it.”
“Pleashe? I want your filshe in muh belluh,” Rob said the best he could with a mouth full of moisture. Some of it spilled out onto his cheeks.
The trucker spat again, this time aiming it right for Rob’s nose. It plopped there, sending a fresh wave of that musky scent into Rob’s nostrils. Rob pulled his cock out of his jeans. The trucker glanced at it and scrunched up his nose as though he was going to make Rob stop masturbating, then didn’t.
“You may swallow.”
Rob smacked his lips and let that big ball of fluids flow down his throat. He gurgled as it settled in his belly, warm and moist and a bit nauseating, but he loved it just the same.
“What should I call you, sir?” Rob asked with a gasp. He left his mouth open and stuck his tongue out as though begging for more spit.
“My friends call me Rectum,” he said. “Cuz when I done see bitches with they ass in the air, I wrecked ‘em.” He cackled. “But you keep callin’ me sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I like that. Normally ain’t no one call me sir ‘cept prison guards,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take off your clothes and dance,” he said. “Shake your ass in my face. Wink your asshole.”
Rob nodded and stood up. He was about to take off his shirt when the trucker grabbed him by the neck. He squeezed just hard enough to make it hard to breathe.
“When I tell you to do somethin’, you say yes. Use your words. Don’t just nod at me like I’s a bitch. I ain’t a bitch, and I definitely ain’t yer bitch.” He let go and threw Rob to the ground.
“Yes, sir, I apologize,” Rob said, gasping for air. “It’s just that you’re such a real man, and I’m such a weakling, I find you intimidating and scary. You’re so much bigger and stronger than me.”
He nodded. “That’s understandable.” He belched right in Rob’s face. “Must feel pretty shitty to be a worthless excuse for a man.”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said as he took his shirt off. He dropped his pants while the trucker finally did the same, revealing a massive, broad chest and trunk-like thighs. His body was matted with hair. His skin was dusky and dark — he was clearly white, just swarthy and tanned, not to mention dirty. There were smudges of engine grease on his chest muscles.
Rob had seduced more than a few truckers in his younger days, so he thought he knew what the trucker wanted next. He bared his ass, facing away so as to avoid reminding the trucker he had no tits or a pussy. He stuck his ass in the air, winking his asshole as he slipped his pinkie finger in. He grimaced as though he was so tight that his tiny finger hurt.
“Nice,” said the trucker. “I ain’t gonna shower. We gonna be dirty. No point in gettin’ clean first, reckon.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Come here and kiss my feet. Then you can jerk me off,” he said.
Rob crawled over the dirty floor on his hands and knees. He made it to the bench on which the trucker sat, and lowered his head to the trucker’s burly feet. There were a few scattered hairs over the top of the foot and his toes.
He didn’t just kiss, he licked, the whole foot from toe to ankle. He got up every drop of grimy boot-flavor, the scent of leather and sweat, distilled musk so potent it brought tears to Rob’s eyes. He could have cum just from that, jacking himself off as he licked every inch of the trucker’s foot.
Then he traveled up the man’s leg, from his calf to his knee to his thigh. The hairs grew increasingly dense, thick and coarse as he went, and the man’s body grew fleshier, meatier the farther upwards his tongue voyaged. He collected a layer of dried sweat on his tongue, which he swallowed, smacking his lips and displaying an empty mouth to the trucker.
He just grunted, and aimed his dicktip into Rob’s mouth. An explosion of intense cock-taste hit his senses. Rob gurgled. He hocked up a mouth full of spit of his own, and he let it run down that limp cockshaft. Rob slathered spit up and down the shaft.
It didn’t stay limp for long. The trucker groaned and grunted. His muscular upper body roiled. Rob got the impression he had intended to complain that Rob didn’t do it right — that he was going to complain, maybe smack him, and throat him violently — but Rob did slurp, slather and lick just right, so there was nothing to complain about. Rob always did it right.
He had his nose buried deep in the trucker’s cock even before he got totally hard, and he kept it there as the trucker’s meat turned into an iron rod in his neck. It strained and throbbed, making Rob choke and sputter.
But that was exactly how he liked it. He enjoyed the struggle to swallow a massive cock, and he loved being throated hard. He grabbed the trucker’s hairy asscheeks with both hands.
That was the universal signal for ram my face as hard as you can and the trucker picked up on it. He chortled and wrapped his own hands around Rob’s head. He interlaced his fingers in Rob’s hair on the back of his head. He belched, the sound and the vibrations rumbling through his body and his cock in Rob’s throat.
He let Rob take one deep breath, then the trucker rammed his dick all the way in until his balls flopped onto Rob’s chin. His ball-sweat was slick and greasy, sticking to Rob’s skin. He groaned and closed his eyes.
His nose squashed into the trucker’s hairy crotch. Rob inhaled deeply of it, lungs crying out for oxygen as that massive cock throbbed in his throat.
“Don’t let go, swallow that dick, damn…” the trucker said, his eyes closed. He sighed. Rob could sense the waves of pleasure moving up the man’s body from his cock, as Rob’s throat spasmed and squeezed around it. Tears welled up in Rob’s eyes. “Ten more seconds, bitch.”
He held up one hand, his other keeping a tight grip on Rob’s head. He very slowly counted off with his finger, lifting one finger up. Once he got all five fingers, he did it again with the same hand. He hesitated with the tenth finger, teasing Rob for as long as he could take it.
Rob’s face turned red, and he was dizzy from lack of oxygen. Still, he loved the feeling of a giant slab of man-meat filling up his throat. The difficulty of swallowing the whole thing made it a challenge that he enjoyed, and his submission meant he could let his alpha solve the challenge. All Rob had to do was open wide and submit.
They both jumped — and the trucker’s cock pulsated in Rob’s throat — when a burst of music filled the air. It was that “Ding-dong! The Witch Is Dead!” song from The Wizard of Oz. The trucker snarled.
He pulled his dick out, and Rob gasped loudly for air. His lungs cried out, his ribs twisted painfully. He heaved to regain his breath.
“It’s my ex-wife. She’s a fuckin’ bitch.” He answered the phone, while using one of his fingers to beckon Rob. He made Rob sit on the ground, resting his head back on the bench. “Hey,” he said into the phone, as he plopped his plump ass right on Rob’s face. His asscrack was slick with sweat and hair that was matted to his flesh. Rob inhaled deeply of that scent. He cringed and crooned.
He stuck his tongue out, getting a taste of that hot flesh. Sweat trickled onto his tongue. The showerhouse was warm and humid, so it had been collecting there, filth building up and clinging to the trucker’s body. Rob licked it all up, listening to the rumble of him on the phone with his wife.
The trucker’s dominance was gone. He was submissive now. His voice was clipped, anxious, like he was angry but had to hide it from her. Rob couldn’t hear every word, but he picked up a lot of what the trucker said.
“Sorry, baby, I gotta be on the move, you know that. I gave you advance notice, like I’s s’posed to. She understood, and we still got- Uh-huh. Well, baby, you know I sent it. First of the month. Was only yesterday, I’m sure it’ll get there.”
Rob’s tongue slipped into the trucker’s asshole at last. A burst of raw masculinity coated his tongue, silky and gooey, pure manhood flowing down his throat. It was sour and gritty and overwhelming, and he stopped listening to the conversation as its tenor grew more and more angry.
The trucker responded to Rob licking too. He groaned and shifted his weight, plopping his asshole directly onto Rob’s mouth so he could explore the inside of the trucker’s ass. He slathered so much spit there that it spilled out and coated Rob’s face. It dripped onto the bench beneath his head.
“Nah. You ain’t allowed to do that, Christine. It’s in the- What? That ain’t true, and it don’t matter neither. You ain’t in charge of my life. You know that ain’t true. You spreadin’ lies. Don’t you say that!” His body tensed, and his asshole clenched around Rob’s tongue. Rob reached around and gave his dick a stroke, which made the trucker’s entire body spasm. He began to rub his ass back and forth over Rob’s head, filling his own ass with Rob’s tongue as he bellowed into the phone. “Well fuck you then! You think I can’t get a lawyer?! My custody rights ain’t somethin’ you dole out when it’s convenient, Christine! You agreed to that schedule, and you knew what it was then! You knew I was a trucker, don’t pretend I sprung that on you last week! I can’t just switch my days off! I’m in fuckin’ Oklahoma!” He took a deep breath. “Listen, go fuck yourself, Christine. Fuck yourself with that Swedish’s retard’s cock, see if I care. If she ain’t waitin’ for me on Friday, I’ll see you in court.” He hung up the phone and turned it off. He growled and got his ass off Rob’s face, then he grumbled and smacked Rob’s ass-slickened face softly. “Females are the worst.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t like women much at all,” Rob said. He liked talking shit about guys with women, and despite his friendships, he was utterly confident that he would hate dating them. “They’re such bitches.” He felt a little bad, but his female friends would understand. They knew what kind of guys he was into, and frankly, they were glad that he kept these sort of men from getting too frisky.
“Uh-huh,” the trucker said with a throaty chuckle. “But damned if I don’t love pussy.” He dragged Rob into position, bending him over the bench with his ass in the air. “Fuck. Ain’t no female let me just go to town on her like you do. I ain’t a bad lover, mind you, I eat pussy. I eat pussy good, I swear.” He grabbed Rob by the hair and lifted his head up. He stuck two fingers out in front of his face and licked. “See? I lick pussy real good. Stick it all the way in.” He showed off how long his tongue was.
“Sir, if I could make a suggestion…” Rob wasn’t sure he would be allowed to say anything. “Women don’t want to be penetrated with a tongue.”
It looked like the trucker was about to tell Rob he just wanted to ram him, not have a real conversation. But he stopped with his dick throbbing between Rob’s cheeks, right atop his asshole.
“What?”
“When you lick a woman’s pussy, don’t stick your tongue as far in as you can,” Rob said. “Just lick her clitoris. That’s the part that feels good.”
“You ain’t s’posed to stick yer tongue in ‘em?”
“Not really. A little bit is fine, it’s not really a bad thing. But you should lick her clit, not her pussy.”
“Her clit’s in her pussy.”
“Uh… No it isn’t,” Rob said. He blushed. “You really shouldn’t be learning about female anatomy from me. The clit is above the pussy, not in it. Lick that.”
“That don’t make any sense. You gotta stick yer tongue in, that’s what fuckin’ is-“
“No, you don’t. Look, ‘Rectum’, or whatever, do whatever you want. You could even ask a girl where she wants your tongue,” Rob said. “I don’t care. I’d rather have you sexually frustrated so you keep plowing dudes. But if you’re gonna eat some pussy, that’s where you should eat it.”
The trucker was quiet for a moment. He grumbled. “I don’t like it when my bitch speaks so forwardly. If you takin’ dick, shut yer mouth and take it.”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said. He rubbed his asshole up and down on Rectum’s dick.
“Good.” He slipped his cock in, just the tip at first. Then he gritted his teeth, grabbed Rob’s shoulders to hold him in place and worked his dick in inch by inch. “No squirmin’ yet. Don’t move. Hey! Don’t move.” He smacked Rob’s asscheeks every time he moved or made a sound.
The pain was incredible, and the dim, mounting sense of pleasure beneath it all was even more intense, even if it was faint at first. Rob moaned. He loved making sounds because it caused the trucker to smack his ass, which sent an additional wave of desire through Rob’s body.
He plumped his entire cock in without pulling out one time. He just kept grinding and forcing it until his balls smacked against Rob’s ass. The pressure was unimaginably potent, making Rob gasp and squirm no matter how the trucker tried to keep him still.
“Please, fill me up! God yes! I love your cock! It’s so big!” Rob moaned breathlessly. A few tears came to his eyes.
“I know,” the trucker said. “But keep tellin’ me.” He pulled on Rob’s hair with one hand, while using his other to keep Rob’s head in place. He swayed his hips back and forth, teasing every inch of Rob’s insides with his massive cock. It was arduously painful until his touched Rob’s prostate, which sent a wave of bliss through Rob’s body, a sensation so intense it made all the pain up till now vanish from his mind.
Rob melted into a weak pile of submissive flesh. This, he thought, was the part he loved. He couldn’t control any part of his body. He was entirely on autopilot, ass open wider than he thought possible so the trucker could pound away at him. His limbs flailed, mouth gasping, fingers tightening into claws that dug at the air.
“Can you squeal like a piggie?” the trucker asked. He pulled on Rob’s hair, dragging his head upward until they were so close they could nearly kiss.
The feeling of his foot-long cock in Rob’s ass made it difficult to concentrate. The trucker stopped moving and repeated his question, directly into Rob’s ear. His hot breath condensed on Rob’s face.
“Oiiiiiink…” Rob moaned.
“Better. Louder. More pig-like.”
“Oink. Oink! Oink! Oink!” Rob screamed increasingly louder each time. When he did, his asshole clenched, sending waves of agony through his body and pleasure through the trucker’s.
“Yeah, you is one nasty bottom,” the trucker said with a groan. He slammed his cock in and out while Rob continued to make pig-like rutting sounds.
Soon the sensations were too extreme for Rob to make any focused sounds, so all he could do was moan and squirm. The trucker pounded away, groaning directly into Rob’s ear.
“Excuse me, sir, would you like to make some money?” Rob asked, straining to get the words out with the intense feelings welling up within his ass.
“What?” He stopped moving with his cock deep in Rob’s body.
“I’ll write you a check for a hundred dollars if you kiss me while you wreck my ass,” Rob said. He was on the verge of tears. It felt like his entire body was going to explode. That massive cock was inside him, plowing every inch of his innards. “And I’ll write you a check for five-hundred dollars if you both kiss me — with tongue — and you give me a reacharound. I can’t prove the check will clear. You just have to trust me.”
Neither man moved for a long time. The trucker recoiled then, and growled.
“You write that check out to cash, you little bitch,” the trucker said. “I ain’t tellin’ you my real name. Get your checkbook now.” He held onto Rob’s ears as Rob staggered, in great pain and mind-numbing pleasure, to his clothes crumpled up on the floor. The trucker followed him without letting his dick fall out of Rob’s ass. Rob had made sure his checkbook and a pen were ready in case he needed it. He scrawled out the check, made out to cash.
“I didn’t sign it yet,” Rob said with a moan, the bliss wracking his body so intense it hurt. He wrenched his head back and handed the check over. “Do it first. Sir.”
The trucker grimaced. His mouth was right next to Rob’s ear, so their faces were nearby anyway. His bristly beard scratched at Rob’s face. He stuck his tongue out gingerly.
When that thick tongue touched Rob’s lips, the trucker jumped and twitched. He even gagged a little. His tongue hit Rob’s mouth, and Rob kissed him back.
His muscles all tensed, his chest hair rubbing against Rob’s smooth back. The trucker’s body wriggled and squirmed as he fought against his own instincts. His hesitance and reluctance were clear, but he didn’t slow down and he didn’t even try to make it a quick, perfunctory peck on the lips. His hot breath mixed with Rob’s as their tongues interlocked.
Then one of his callused, rough hands wrapped around Rob’s cock. The trucker’s whole body shook again, and his dick twitched. The trucker groaned without removing his mouth, so the sound resonated all the way into Rob’s belly.
At last he resumed plowing. He kept his mouth planted on Rob’s and rammed his dick all the way in, nearly all the way out, then balls deep once more. Rob’s whole body reacted and spasmed, limbs flailing.
The trucker rammed him so hard that Rob’s feet lifted off the ground. He was supported entirely by the trucker’s strong arms, his cock and his tongue in Rob’s mouth.
It was not a passionate kiss, nor a competent one. His tongue fought with Rob’s as though he intended to invade and conquer Rob’s mouth. His handjob was rough and dysrhythmic as well.
But most of the allure of getting rammed by men was the raw, amateur feel to it. Rob was glad to submit to this colossal cockjob, and he loved servicing the man behind and atop him.
Once the trucker got moving, he seemed to forget that his tongue was in a man’s mouth, and he didn’t pay much attention to his hand either. He kept both in position though, even as he focused on drilling his dick in and out.
The motion he created was enough to send Rob over the edge. He was overjoyed to cum like this, with the trucker still in his ass, his hand on Rob’s cock and his tongue in Rob’s mouth. As uncontrollable pleasure wracked his body Rob kissed him back, slathering spit all over his lips and his beard. He sucked on the man’s tongue.
A burst of hot cum sprayed over the man’s callused fingers, coating his tanned skin. He kept on jacking, his hand moving slowly up and down the shaft until every last drop of cum had been drained from Rob’s balls. At last he pulled off Rob’s mouth.
“Could use some lube, bitch,” he said through gritted teeth. He took his cum-coated hand and stroked his dick one time, wiping all that semen up on his shaft.
Then he jammed his dick in and out, the hot, creamy cum providing enough lube to send him over the edge. His hairy muscles all flexed at once, and he pushed Rob’s head back down to the ground. Rob’s face pressed into the cum-splattered linoleum, his ass in the air.
The trucker watched his creamy dick slide in and pulsate there, his veiny shaft spasming as he nutted within Rob’s ass. He grinned at the sight of Rob’s curvy cheeks, his feminine shape and his tight asshole accepting every drop of the trucker’s cum. With Rob’s head on the ground, all the trucker could see was that asshole and the frothy, cummy mess that bubbled out of it.
“Yeah, you fuckin’ nasty-ass cumdump,” he groaned. “Hell yeah… Fuck… Where was you when I was in lockup, damn…”
Every time Rob thought the trucker was done, he groaned and a fresh spurt of cum flowed into Rob’s ass. He shot such a huge load that it dripped into every corner of Rob’s flesh, and it slipped out his ass too, dripping down his thighs and onto the showerhouse floor.
He stayed there, cock deep in Rob’s ass, even when he was finally done. When Rob opened his mouth to speak — but before he could actually make a sound — the trucker roared and pounded on his back. The trucker shifted his cock back and forth, and it twitched inside Rob’s sensitive body.
“Here. Sign the check.” The trucker handed it over, his dick still in Rob’s ass, growing limper by the moment.
Rob’s body was tense and tight. He struggled to grip the pen, but he managed to write his name with shaky fingers on the signature line. He handed the check back to the trucker, who finally pulled out.
The most jaw-dropping sense of relief of Rob’s entire life flooded him. He moaned so loud it startled the trucker, who gently kicked his ass with one bare foot. Rob collapsed onto the floor, a squirming mass of post-orgasmic flesh.
He nearly fell asleep. He didn’t quite, but he almost did. He was a warm buzz of desire and arousal, and he couldn’t even think about getting up yet. He heard the trucker walk over to the showers. He belched loudly and bathed, ignoring Rob.
Finally he stood on his weak knees. He stretched his legs. He took a few steps towards the door, intently aware of the trucker watching him leave.
“Hey, bitch!” He had to bellow to be heard over the sound of the shower running.
“Yes, sir?”
He was covered in soap suds, partially obscured by billowing clouds of steam. He licked his lips and sneered. “You like truckers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Next month. This time next month. I be back here in Norbilly. You bring your checkbook,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll bring at least two other truckers. Like me. You pay me, okay? Five hundred each, so fifteen hundred dollars. Don’t tell them you’re paying. They’ll kiss and give a reacharound, maybe more. I can make ‘em do it.”
“Yes, sir. That’s a lot of money, sir.”
“I’m gonna buy my daughter the pony she been beggin’ for. That’ll teach my bitch ex-wife to call me a loser,” he said. “You be ready. Bring lube. Forget the word ‘no’.”
“Yes, sir.” Rob said. He walked out of the door, clothes in hand. He stood naked in the parking lot of the truck stop, then slowly got dressed. He smiled and started to walk back to town. He couldn’t wait for next month.
That was going to be the most exciting day of his life, and he only had one month to prepare.

Coachly Bonding

When wrestler Josh Chadwin has to shower with his college coach, he knew things would get awkward, but he didn’t know how enjoyable it could be! That’s cuz Josh is in for a wild ride of truck stop action, jock manhood and coachly bonding!

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Or read the whole thing right here!

Kyle Chadwin told himself he was being silly. Coach Walker wasn’t going to do anything to him. Chadwin was being punished, but it wasn’t like a real punishment; this wasn’t prison.
As he walked to that truck stop shower, it felt like prison though.
Chadwin was a college wrestler. He was one of the best athletes on the team, maybe the best, or at least the most consistent at meets, and everyone knew it. He was raised to be proud and confident and to make certain everyone knew that he could hold his own. He should show leadership. He needed to make certain the younger wrestlers understood his authority. He wasn’t the team captain, but if he got past this punishment and did well, he might be team captain next year.
Anyway, Chadwin had been trying to show leadership to the freshmen when some hazing got out of control. The end result was that Chadwin made one freshman wrestler run around the campus in his jockstrap. It wasn’t even really hazing, Chadwin thought, because the freshman was only doing it to be invited to an upperclassman party. But since the jockstrap exposed the freshman’s bare ass, it was treated as a “flashing incident” by the dean — women could have seen it, if there were any on campus at the time, which there weren’t, making the whole thing stupid, Chadwin thought. But he had been suspended for three weeks anyway. That suspension was up tomorrow, which was just in time for the state tournament. The dean even raced to institute the suspension so it would be over with in time for him to compete in the tournament.
But Chadwin had had no way of getting to the tournament aside from the team bus, which he was prohibited from riding in because he was still under suspension. The rest of the team had gone today and were spending tonight in a motel.
That was why Chadwin had had no choice but to ride in Coach Walker’s car.
They had to spend one night here in a Ramwide Truck Stop along the highway. Chadwin thought that was insane — he hadn’t asked beforehand, but he assumed they were going to sleep in a motel, separate from the team because the athletic department couldn’t pay for accommodations for him while his suspension was still on. He had assumed him and Coach Walker each have a room to themselves.
Now that assumption made him feel spoiled. Coach Walker said he couldn’t afford even one motel room. Chadwin could have asked his parents to pay. They probably would. But now he’d sound bratty if he said so, and it was too late anyway. The sun was going down.
“Does the truck stop have… beds?” Chadwin asked. He didn’t know if that was a foolish question or not. Semis have little bedrooms behind the truck cab, don’t they? But anyway, surely not all of them did, so maybe the truck stop did have rooms to rent overnight?
“No. But I don’t got the cash for a motel room, and the next one isn’t for miles anyway. All my money goes to my bitch ex-wife,” Coach Walker said with a dry chuckle, as his use of a curse word made Chadwin bristle and straighten his back. He patted Chadwin on the back. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’ll sleep in the car. I’ve done it before. My car’s real comfortable. My current wife makes me sleep out there at least once a month.”
Chadwin felt a sense of dread but agreed. He didn’t have any choice anyway — he wasn’t about to miss the state tournament for any reason.
But now they were at a Ramwide — that was a chain of truck stops known throughout the country — and Coach Walker told Chadwin to come take a shower with him. Chadwin had a much better body than Coach Walker, but he didn’t feel like it as they undressed together. Coach Walker snorted and sniffled, making noise every step of the way. He seemed ancient, though he was only middle-aged, and his darkly tanned skin was marked with scars and a few faded tattoos. He didn’t have a perfect six-pack, but he looked like he probably did back in the day.
Chadwin, on the other hand, was ropy-muscled and solidly built, but without all the heft of Coach Walker’s body. Chadwin was light-skinned and six-packed, with deep dimples and not a single scar, tattoo or mark anywhere on his mostly hairless body. Chadwin thought he shouldn’t be intimidated by the older man. If anyone saw them together, they’d say Chadwin was in better shape. He had a six-pack and plenty of muscles. Girls came running. Not that Chadwin was a pervert. He was ROTC, he was ready for the Army, or maybe the Marines, he hadn’t decided.
So he shouldn’t be nervous about showering with Coach Walker. He showered with his teammates and his ROTCmates. That was always awkward at first and even later. But they played around, snapped towels at each other’s asses, tried to fart on each other, competed to piss the furthest distance in the shower, talked about girls — horseplay, basically.
Can’t do horseplay with a grandfather. Coach Walker might not have been a grandfather, Chadwin had no idea. But he was old enough he could be, which was weird enough.
One of the Chadwin’s squadmates in the ROTC was a couple years older, and he was already out of boot camp. He said his drill sergeant came in and showered with his barrack cuz they kept getting in trouble for playing around, making a mess, squirting dandruff shampoo on each other and wasting time. He said his drill sergeant had a fat old wrinkly dick that was hard not to stare out, but they’d get shouted at for being pansies if they got caught looking at it.
Which was hilarious, but now that he was changing with Coach Walker in the truck stop bathroom, Chadwin also found himself unable to look away. It was big but not freakishly huge, and Chadwin suspected Coach Walker was a show-er, not a grower. Chadwin was the opposite. His cock was nothing to sneeze at, but it wasn’t impressive until it firmed up.
He gulped. Chadwin was stripped to his underwear, hesitating as Coach Walker got his socks off and then rubbed his feet with like a brush or something. Was that something old men did? Chadwin didn’t want to ask.
The other old man in the shower, some mangy redneck with a mustache, he came out into the changing area then. He too was naked and had a wrinkly old-man cock, though he was only maybe thirty. Looked like a hard thirty though.
“You fellers truckin’?” asked the mustachioed man. He stood there with his dingy tight-whites in one hand, scratching his balls and playing with his wet dick like he was trying to make it dry off quickly.
A disquieting sensation roiled Chadwin. He opened his eyes wide.
“Nossuh,” Coach Walker said. He sat down on the bench next to Chadwin, spreading his legs wide to let his cock and balls graze in the air. “We’s on the way to Richmond, for a wrestling tournament. Triple-A. This is Josh, he’s the wrestler. I’m a coach, obviously.”
The man nodded. “Cool, cool, wrestlin’ is a real man sport, I do declare,” he said. He stepped into his ratty tight-whites. “Not like gymnastics.” He sneered. “Or golf.”
They both chuckled, and Chadwin forced himself to do likewise. “Yeah, golf…” he muttered. Possibly neither of them noticed he said anything.
“Hmm-hmmm,” Coach Walker murmured, and he wrapped one arm around Chadwin’s well-muscled side. They both sat there — Chadwin still in his underpants — as the mustachioed man dressed and headed out the door. He did seem to notice that Coach Walker and Chadwin were just sitting there, not showering or anything, but he didn’t ask why. Maybe that was normal at Ramwide Truck Stop. “You okay, Josh?”
“Yes, yes, sir,” Chadwin said, as confidently as he could muster. Coach Walker’s hand stayed wrapped around his waist, gripping his ribcage firmly, as though the check how much fat there was there. None. Chadwin was aiming for a low weight class, that was why.
“I’ve been following that meal plan!” Chadwin blurted out. “And doin’ the sauna like you said.”
“Good, good.” Coach Walker stood up. His manhood dangled in front of Chadwin’s face, and Chadwin could smell the rank sweat of his ballsac. Or maybe that was just him. Chadwin wrinkled his nose. Coach Walker twirled his cock and thwacked it against one palm, then the other. “C’mon, let’s get our shower over with.”
Chadwin forced himself not to look at Coach Walker’s cock. Chadwin tried to tell himself it was okay, and it wasn’t bigger than his. That was true, it wasn’t, or at least it was maybe only barely right now, but when they were both hard — not that they were gonna both get hard, that would be ridiculous — but when they were both hard, they’d be the same size, Chadwin was sure.
Was Coach Walker getting a boner? As Chadwin finally dropped his underwear, he thought he detected a sliver of firmness in Coach Walker’s cockshaft.
He assumed that they’d go immediately into the shower, but instead Coach Walker grabbed Chadwin’s dick with one hand. He held it tight, almost tight enough to hurt. Chadwin sucked in his breath, then didn’t exhale.
Coach Walker’s other hand gripped Chadwin’s shoulder, then ran down his arm and to his chest. “Flex your biceps,” he said.
Chadwin did so. He cock throbbed in Coach Walker’s rough hand. Coach Walker rubbed his free hand all over Chadwin’s biceps and triceps, and he tweaked each pec until they twitched and rippled. Then — much to Chadwin’s growing wide-eyed horror — Coach Walker leaned in to take a deep long sniff of Chadwin’s armpit.
His nose got right in the hair too. It wasn’t a little sniff, it was a full-throttle snort, like he was hoping to inhale Chadwin’s sweat. Then he straightened up.
“Why you nervous, Josh?” Coach Walker asked. He placed his hand back on Chadwin’s dick, holding onto it like a handle. He normally called him ‘Chadwin’ even when most others called him ‘Josh’. Now that they were alone at the motel, he was calling him ‘Josh’. It sounded weird coming out of his old-man mouth.
“I’m not!” Chadwin blushed. He knew he sounded defensive. No one else was in the shower, so he really shouldn’t feel nervous. Only a pansy was nervous to be naked around men. A man. One man. One old man with big droopy balls.
“Big handsome boy like you, I know you get girls all the time!” He laughed. His other hand dropped to Chadwin’s ass, while his right hand stayed tightly wrapped around Chadwin’s cock.
Chadwin blushed. He was embarrassed though he didn’t know why. Coach Marshall — the head of the athletic department at GHU — had walked in on Chadwin plowing a nursing student in the girl’s locker room one morning. Chadwin had gotten in big trouble for that. The rest of the coaching staff kept saying that Chadwin was a real casanova and a pervert because of it, though Chadwin didn’t really think of it like that.
She was his steady girlfriend, after all. Not a one-night stand. They broke up last month, but it was a serious relationship. They were both Christian. They were talking about getting married. It was close enough to marital to be acceptable in Chadwin’s eyes.
“Hmmm… I know the girls love you and those dimples…”
“Yeah,” Chadwin said. He bit his lip. “I mean, yeah, yes, sir, Coach Walker.”
“Relax, relax, boy,” he said with a laugh. Both hands rested on Chadwin’s ass now, caressing his plump cheeks, which Chadwin was surprised to find he enjoyed. It was ticklish and awkward but pleasant. “Take a deep breath. We’s on a road trip now. I know you’re still young, you dunno what that means. On a road trip, y’know… when you’s away from home, Joshie-“
Chadwin grunted because Coach Walker was closer to him now, virtually hugging him and speaking directly in his ear. That meant his soft cock pressed limply against Chadwin’s thigh. Chadwin really hated it when anyone called him Joshie — that’s what his parents called him, and he didn’t even like it then.
“Nothing counts on a road trip, son,” Coach Walker said. “What happens here, it didn’t happen. Got it?”
“Uh, sir?”
“That means you can say what you want. You can do whatever feels right,” he said. He grabbed Chadwin’s cock with one hand. “You can smoke that weed I know you got in your duffel bag.” He chuckled, his hot breath condensing on Chadwin’s face. “As long as you share.”
“Oh…” Chadwin’s blood ran cold. Did it smell? He thought it might smell, but he double-wrapped it, then put it in a sealed container. It didn’t seem to smell.
“Have you ever thought about kissing a man, son?”
“No.” Chadwin’s voice trembled.
“I find that difficult to believe,” he said.
“I mean… I’ve thought about it. I would try it, uh, you know… if I knew anyone who…”
Coach Walker planted his lips on Chadwin’s. Chadwin quivered. It was a quick, chaste kiss. “You can go wait for me in the car, son. Or you can stay here and get dirty all over again.”
“Um… Okay.” Chadwin wanted to leave. He was glad to have that option.
But he didn’t.
No matter how much his mind told himself to walk away, he didn’t; he didn’t want to; he craved finding out what would happen next and how it would make him feel. His dick was already twitching and he was thinking about how much he needed a stiffy — he’d been single for a month, and his balls were aching. He wasn’t sure what was happening. A part of him still thought that maybe Coach Walker was just messing with him.
But nevertheless, Chadwin’s body apparently found it to get hard. His cock tingled and thrummed. He desperately wanted to blow his wad. He couldn’t think about anything else but Coach Walker’s hand encircling his cock. He wasn’t stroking it, just holding on for now.
“I’m glad you stayed, son. A lotta college boys is too scared to shower with me.” He flopped his dick between his fingers and hit Chadwin’s cock with it. Chadwin had a big slab of meat when it was hard — not as big as Coach Walker’s — but he felt small right now. “You scared this is gonna feel so good you forget about girls, huh?”
“Uh-“
“That won’t happen.” He smiled. “You wanna jack me off?”
“Uh, no…”
He frowned. “Fine. You don’t got to. You wanna taste my dick?”
“Uh, no…”
“You want me to ram you in the ass?”
“No!”
He laughed like he knew what the answer to that last one would be, he was just messing with Chadwin. He chuckled and shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “Remember, once we leave this truck stop, none of this happened.”
“Yeah.” Chadwin’s voice was weak and wavering. “Yes, sir.”
Then, without another word of warning, Coach Walker dropped to his knees and popped Chadwin’s cock in his mouth. He smiled and looked up at Chadwin, who gasped.
A shiver of pleasure ran up and down Chadwin’s spine. He groaned and grunted. Coach Walker’s mouth was warm and moist, and it sent tingles of intense sensations to wrack Chadwin’s body. Coach Walker ran his tongue up and down the shaft, making eye contact with Chadwin, who stood on his toes and held his breath.
“That feel good?”
Chadwin nodded. He didn’t know why, since it was awkward for him, not pleasurable. He had never been with a man at all. He had never even let a man touch his dick outside of some wrestling team horseplay — and once he stuck his cock in a gloryhole to let a woman suck him off, but another wrestler on his team Wesley said afterwards that it was a man in there. His cock throbbed, sending waves of pleasure through his body. Chadwin gasped.
It felt good, in a way. Chadwin’s mind reeled as Coach Walker started really slurping on it, slathering spit up and down his shaft, using his mouth and both hands on it. Chadwin wondered if he was even going to be able to get hard. It felt like a blowjob from a girl, he thought, but somehow more distant, less real.
That lasted only until he managed to take a deep breath and relax a little though. When his eyes were closed, he could almost forget he was with a man. The longer this lasted, the more he felt pleasure instead of awkwardity.
Finally his dick was hard. He hadn’t even felt it stiffen up, but it was as hard as steel now. Coach Walker was a hefty man who could swallow the whole thing, nuzzling Chadwin deep until his nose was nestled in his kinky pubic hairs. He had a cavernous mouth. He was big enough that he had to stoop over to take Chadwin in his throat.
This wasn’t the first time Coach Walker had gotten a taste of one of his wrestlers.
He had been able to tell that Chadwin would be willing from just a few days after the season began — he had discovered one easy way to tell which jocks would be willing and which wouldn’t: they fucked ugly girls, or at least fat girls. Chadwin was a handsome, popular, dimpled young man with a nice body; he could have, and did, get laid nearly every weekend, Coach Walker was pretty sure, and his locker room banter had made it clear he didn’t mind fucking large girls, ugly or unpopular girls, or girls he simply didn’t like.
Coach Walker had long determined that those athletes who fucked girls despite their appearance would also be willing to be jerked off by a man, even if they didn’t know it yet. He savored the clean, salty flavor of the precum flowing from Chadwin’s cocktip.
Or maybe Chadwin wasn’t like that, he’d often said he was Christian. Maybe he was just pretending in that locker-room talk. It wasn’t cool to be prudish nowadays.
He looked up at Chadwin and smiled around the cock in his throat.
Chadwin’s eyes were closed — scrunched shut tightly — and his face was tense. Chadwin twisted and writhed, hands flailing because he had briefly touched Coach Walker’s head only to be reminded he wasn’t with a woman. Coach Walker’s bald head (shaved, but you could tell he was naturally balding) felt distinctly masculine beneath Chadwin’s fingertips. So his hands hovered in the air instead.
As he felt Chadwin’s orgasm rising, Coach Walker tried to make him grab his head. He didn’t say anything because he knew his deep, gravelly voice would make Chadwin uncomfortable again. But he guided Chadwin’s hand to his scalp. Chadwin gripped him for only a moment, rammed his throat like a tender womanhood and he was a rampaging viking, until his cock filled up Coach Walker’s neck and throbbed in his throat.
Walker sputtered and gagged despite himself, letting out a moan in his baritone voice. His beard hairs scratched at the base of Chadwin’s dick, again reminding him he was with a man. He let go of his coach’s head, opening his eyes again just in time to meet his coach’s gaze.
Chadwin gasped, unable to look away or close his eyes as an orgasm coursed through his veins. He blushed intensely and cried out. Coach Walker grabbed Chadwin’s ass to make him throat him that way, using his gullet like a pussy, and he got that entire pulsating dick back in his throat just seconds before Chadwin filled him up.
Creamy hot cum sprayed down Coach Walker’s throat, coating him in his sticky juices. He could feel it trickling through his flesh and spreading through his veins. Coach Walker moaned as he shot his own wad on the floor. Chadwin didn’t notice that.
That’s cuz Chadwin’s young-man orgasm was intense and lasted a whole minute or two, maybe three. He lost his inhibitions and, in that moment, he really plowed Coach Walker’s mouth. His balls slapped over and over on his chin.
And still more jizz spurted out. It coated every inch of Coach Walker’s mouth and belly, and it collected hotly in his stomach. It was thick and creamy like alfredo sauce and just as savory. The taste was bright and sunny, salty, warm, delicious in every way, and Coach Walker tried his hardest to swallow it all.
That proved impossible, as he was already starved for oxygen when it began. As Chadwin came buckets, Coach Walker choked up his cock, just in time for the last and thickest of Chadwin’s jizzoms to jet out over Coach Walker’s face. It coated him from his forehead to his chin in hot creamy goodness., and Chadwin’s hands firmly gripped him by the ear as though still throating him down, but his cock was roping out over Coach Walker’s face, so Chadwin could only hump his erection atop the creamy soup of jizz he’d made covering his head.
Then Chadwin took one small step away, and his cock slid off Coach Walker’s face.
Slurping up what cum he could get to, Coach Walker kissed his way up Chadwin’s body, licking all of that cum off and teasingly taking the shower water off his body too. Chadwin’s wrestling-toned muscles throbbed beneath his tongue. He sucked on both nipples, and again, his beard hairs scratched at Chadwin’s skin, reminding Chadwin he wasn’t with a woman. Chadwin pulled away before Coach Walker could kiss him on the lips.
Coach Walker cursed himself. He should have shaved first, he thought. Always shave first, I’ve learned that lesson before.
But he pulled off Chadwin’s cock, now that it was clear he was uncomfortable with this once more. He smeared up the jizz drying on his face so he could slurp it off his hand, while his other hand teased out every drop of cum from Chadwin’s rapidly limpening dickshaft.
When both men were done, Coach Walker stood. He sighed and placed one hand on Chadwin’s shoulder.
“How was that, son? That’s how things go on road trips.”
Chadwin blushed and smiled nervously. “I guess that was… okay… I mean…”
“If we shower together on the way home, I’m gonna do that again. So you can signal yo’ okayness by either showering wit’ me again or not. You got a couple days to think about it.”
He turned around and finally trooped into the shower, leaving Chadwin there to regain his breath. A lot of times there were other men in a Ramwide Truck Stop, sometimes many. The showers were a social affair in these kinds of places, and Coach Walker enjoyed that aspect of them, the camaraderie, the brotherhood, the manly bodies…
In fact, if he weren’t with Chadwin, Coach Walker would have played around with that mustachioed man who was there to begin with. Oh well, he thought as he turned on a showerhead and let the water wash him clean. There was always next time, so long as Chadwin chose to shower with him on the return trip.
He sensed the answer was yes. Coach Walker vigorously soaped himself up and washed his armpits — he’d loved the smell and taste of Chadwin’s armpits. They had a fragrantly masculine aroma that got his dick hard, and he was going to smell even better after the wrestling tournament. They always did.
By the time he was ready to join Coach Walker in his shower, Chadwin had already decided to do it. As long as it was on a road trip, he thought, he wouldn’t have to tell anyone and it wouldn’t count.
And he couldn’t wait to learn what else Coach Walker had in store for him.