Rest Area Reverie

Near Home--August/September/October, 2011

I stopped by the rest area off the under-traveled state highway this afternoon on the way home from fucking a leather top who’d wanted to sub out.  I wasn’t looking for action there.  It was sort of a good-by-for-the-season visit.  It has been unseasonably cold and wet, I wondered if it would be gated shut for the winter already.  It wasn’t.  But the wind of the last day and a half had done it’s work.  The hickory trees were skeletal against the overcast sky.  The yellow leaves were down and mostly blown clear of the park.  The hickory nuts themselves had fallen earlier in the month.  With their double shell, they are the size of tennis balls.  The first time one had fallen on my car, I jumped since it was such a loud thud on the metal.  I’d been reading and was sure some state trooper had arrived and had just pounded his fist on the roof of my car--thinking he was going to surprise me there jerking off.  Today, they have been either crushed by cars--or gathered by the squirrels who have taken over the park from the cruisers.

I sat with a cup of coffee, thinking about what I’d just done.  But then without really meaning to, I began reviewing how much fun the park had provided for me during the last eight weeks.  I thought of Bill first.  Well, since we’d first connected at the end of August, we’d met fairly often.  He was in a black pick-up.  A work pick-up, not one for show.  He got out of the cab.  A tall rangy man of 65 or so.  All jeans and work boots and flannel shirts.  A handsome weathered face with a fringe of grey hair.  In other words, every thing I love in those older than I.  Our eyes met that first time--me reading at a picnic table--he on the way to the pit toilet.  He disappeared, then, ambled over to me, still zipping up and in no time we had driven to a secluded boat ramp area and were exchanging blow jobs.  I discovered a big, thick cock with a downward curve.  I loved how perfectly it fit in my throat--he loved me to sort of batter the back of his--who could ask for anything more?

I rarely fucked at the rest area--or any of the places we took our activities.  I don’t trust the clean out of guys who just decide to stop by.  But there was one.  I knew him from years past.  He had a shaved head, a slight beer belly and was a good eight inches shorter than I.  He favored short shorts.  But you forgave his clothes when your cock was in his mouth.  He liked to suck.  No, he lived to suck cock.  I occasionally sucked his very small dick.  But usually I would finger his ass until he came, and often added my cock.  He loved the danger of being found behind the fiberglass restroom.  Not my favorite place, but I knew I could get him off incredibly fast.  One day, we waited to be alone there.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally he told me to follow him.  I did.  He drove in the opposite direction from the poison ivy road.  He took a few confusing turns, then parked right on the dirt road.  He opened the side of his van, vaguely covering us and I fingered and fucked him on the side of the road, all the while listening for the distant sound of wheels on gravel to give us a heads up.  Crazy.  I know.  I know.

The hottest moment of the summer was in a panel truck.  He was a delivery man for a parts firm.  He was younger than I, cropped brown hair, sunburned and dressed in a grimy coverall.  He was the perfect grease monkey fantasy I always have when I get my oil changed….

It’s been an uneventful morning.  I look up from my reading at the sound of an engine.  A parts van has parked next to me.  The man gets out, makes eye contact and heads up to the rest room.  He’s in there much too long.  My cock wakes up.

He finally comes back out of the toilet.  He ambles to his van and pretends to answer his cell phone.  I  get out, lock up and go piss--making sure my cock runs down my left pants leg.  I come back out.  He is still sitting in his front seat--with the window rolled down.  I walk to my car--making sure I’m nearer his vehicle than I need to be.  Yup.  He has his cock out and is stroking.  I look up.  He gestures with a slight nod of his head towards the side doors of his van.  I go around, open, and step in.   He moves back from around his front seat.  His coveralls are zipped down.  His cock is bigger than average and hard as fuck.  I slam the door.  My jeans are dropped.  I lean against the side wall.  I know the drill--as soon as he sees my cock, he’ll be down on it.

We stare at each other for a long moment.  I can see him weakening.  That “I don’t do this” face.  Suddenly his hand leaves his cock and he swiftly pushes me down by the shoulders.  Hard.  My knees hit the van floor.  His hard cock smacks my cheek.  It leaves a trail of precum there.  Fuck--he’s just turned the tables…

His cock is in my mouth.  He’s grunting.  A finger snakes out--wiping up the precum.  He pulls out, wipes it on his cock and sticks it back in my mouth.  I’m totally into the reverse roles.  But I know enough to look like I’m not sure I want to be on my knees.  He’s getting off on that.

He is really fucking my face now.  This makes him talk dirty.  He grunts and spews.  A huge load.   I clean his cock.  I’m so close to cumming, but not quite there.  And he’s done.  I think.  As soon as I have swallowed the last drop, he lays down on the floor of the van.

“Jerk off on my face.”

Jesus.  I need no encouragement.  I move over on my knees.  It takes no time. His eyes are screwed shut; his mouth tightly closed.  At the last moment he opens wide and my load lands right in his mouth.  It’s my turn to smear my still dripping cock across his upper lip…