Monday, July 25, 2016


Rural Rest Area Near Home—July, 2016

I can still taste him as I type this…

Unexpectedly, I found myself with some free time today.  My work load jumps to 65+ hours a week in the summer months, so I just resign myself to little or no sex.  (And not much time to write!)  The playroom has been packed away since June for my house belongs to the company I work for and a steady stream of fellow employees are in and out all summer.  (It always amuses me when a straight married guy is assigned to the bedroom that just a few weeks before was chockful of sex furniture.  Does he like the five different mirrors all over the room that I don’t bother to pack?)

But this morning I had ninety minutes where I didn’t have to do anything.  I had not been to the rural rest area in over a year.  Well, I had stopped once on a non-sexual visit, but I was intrigued to see if there was any action.

I pull in to the shaded parking area on this sticky, 93 degree day.  There are two semi-trucks and a rather junky old car.  One semi, with a sleeper compartment, is parked to the side.  A bearded man sits on the picnic table near the cab.  He’s approaching 50, bearded and trim—dressed in an A-shirt and jeans. The other semi-truck is nose to nose with the junker.   I vaguely recognize the man in the car. He is huge.  He barely fits behind the wheel of his car.  There is no sign of the other driver. I park, get out and go into the pit toilet.  It’s a hot day—no way I’m staying in there for anytime.  I piss and leave.  I look over to the man on the picnic table.  Did he just grope himself while looking at his atlas?

I wander behind the toilet and look at the hickory trees.  The large man is out of the car and coming up the walk.

“Long time, no see,” he chortles at the top of his voice.  “I told that driver there was a guy with a big dick who used to come here, and here you are.” 


He disappears into the toilet.  I don’t follow.  I look over at the trucker. He studies the page in front of him.  This time his hand decidedly brushes his crotch.  I wait.  He looks right at me and squeezes his dick through his jeans.  But he doesn’t make a move.  I wait a little longer.  The toilet door bangs and the large guy makes the long walk to the car.  He gets in and drives off—guessing which way things are going to go. 

I wait.

He studies his map.

I go to my car, grab the water bottle and head to the pump.  I work the handle and fill the bottle with well water.  I turn.  He’s moved to the table in front of the toilets.  I walk behind building.  He stays at the table, but his left hand goes to the waist band of his pants.  He pulls it down when he knows I’m looking, exposing his ass crack.

Oh, that’s not happening—not out here and with no prep.  I go back to looking at the hickory trees. When I come back around, he’s gone.  The table is empty.  I walk back.  He’s not in the men’s toilet.  Is he in the cab of his truck?  I walk around to the back again.  I hear a noise in the women’s side.  I go towards the door.  He emerges, his jeans tented, just as I arrive.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Other than you?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. 

I ask if he’s seen the other driver.

“I haven’t.”

“You want that sucked?” I ask, jerking my thumb at the tented crotch.

“Sure.”  He unzips right there, barely hidden by the partition between the two sides of the toilet.  He show me a hard seven inches.  Uncut., with the foreskin tight around his smallish cock head.  He gestures towards the woman’s side.

“I think it’s safer to be out back—we can separate faster if we hear traffic.”

He nods.  We walk around behind.  I have him stand on the concrete foundation of the building.  I kneel.

He’s easy to take to the root.  The foreskin doesn’t retract.  His whole cock smells of soap not man. 

“Lick my balls.”

I do.  Medium sized and hairy.  I fleeting think how nice it would be, in different circumstances, to lick what I’m sure is a very hairy ass.

“I’m close…”

“In my mouth.”

He jerks a couple of more strokes as I nuzzle his balls.


I move up to take his cock.  He shakes like he’s having a convulsion.  I get one drop of semen in my mouth. 

He thanks me profusely, gets in his truck and is gone.

I refill my water bottle and go back to work.


  1. As usual.... HAF! I have heard stories about hot great rest areas used to be, unfortunately I have never been able to experience one of those situations.

    1. It's not easy to find anymore--and you have to REALLY know your surroundings.