Coastal Getaway

The sun was obscene. It hammered down onto the bitumen, blurred the scraggly roadside trees into a mirage of grey and green. From a high angle, it produced an airless heat even with the four windows rolled all the way down. My throat was dry, and sweat trickled down my back. My thighs were sticking to the driver's seat, and I had to re-adjust every few minutes.

This small movement, this slight bucking of the hips, aroused a liquid feeling in my ass that was evolving to an active hunger. Before leaving home to drive up the coast, in the blue of the morning, I'd had the idea to lube up and slide a prostate massager into my furry hole, to keep things interesting during the long, lonely hours of my trip.

Now, hours in and with hours to go, sweat and precum mingled to dampen the crotch of my thin canvas shorts. I'd taken off my neon thong hours ago, un-wedged it from my crack in a servo toilet stall during my last stopover for petrol and caffeine, crammed the slip of fabric into my mouth and inhaled deeply. With my shorts around my ankles, and the low thrum of the massager still droning in my hole, I'd gotten carried away. Started tapping my balls, hanging low in the summer of the air, tweaking my nipples and floating away in the haze of corporeal lust mounting in me.

It could've been a minute or a handful of them, before I heard the knock of a foot on tile, and noticed the tip of a boot peeping under my stall. Spooked, embarrassed, riled up, I yanked the underwear from my mouth and re-dressed, before heading quickly towards the sinks to wash my hands. Not so quickly, it seemed, as a wiry man in hi-vis calmly exited the adjacent stall.

We made eye contact in the mirror. His vest was the same colour as my thong, which I noticed I was still clenching in one hand. I crammed it into my pocket, and he leered at me. The cicada sound of my massager was an insistent grumbling in my ears. His eyes raked down my body, and I imagined he could see the outline of it there, between my cheeks. Still grinning, he turned for the exit. I wanted to call him back, to beg him to replace the toy with his own meat but in the end, he was gone, footsteps fading into the outside, and I was left standing in the dim restrooms, trembling beneath the force of my own desire.

**

The aura of the encounter lingered as I drove, thick as the heat that filled the car. The road stretched onward ahead, scaled with cracks. The occasional pothole sent a shudder through me, long after the charge in my toy had gone flat. I considered pulling it out, but I liked the slight sensation of fullness, and besides, I'd been driving slowly out of caution and wanted to arrive at the AirBnB before dark. On the app, the small house was close enough to the sea to be a breakwater, and its wide windows gazed longingly out at a flat, cerulean sea.

The sky already was beginning to flatten to a gauzy lilac, the light on the dashboard turning dripping like syrup. I decided to stop, soon, and grab something for dinner that I could eat quickly, and hopefully finish with enough time to have a splash in the shallow bay before the onset of the shark hours. As if conjured, a roadside supermarket-bottleshop surfaced on the roadside.

The building was standalone, squatting on the edge of a small empty car park. Even though it was mid-afternoon, the late sun slowly carking in the west, it was still so fucking hot. I parked hazardously across two spaces, and with no-one around, I hoped I'd be lucky and wouldn't get booked or harassed by other shop-goers. This, I thought pleasantly, might also mean the trip inside for supplies would take no time at all.

The interior of the place was unreasonably bright, and chilly with conditioned air. It was the relief of all reliefs, and I felt my nipples begin to harden. I wanted to linger, but the sun's bloody glare propelled in through the sliding door, and I reckoned I may as well get on with it. I sailed through the aisles, collecting some peanut butter cups, a microwave lasagna, and an 8-pack of passion fruit seltzers I suspected would be too sweet but was willing to take the risk on. At the counter, the lone employee observed me curving around the last aisle.

His eyes were friendly, though I can't remember what colour they were. In my memory, it shifts, as though I could've dreamed him from the aether. His beard was lush, and trailed down into a furry chest, with a thick moustache the same texture as his eyebrows. His scalp, smooth as an egg. The name tag on his barrelled chest read: Grant. He began to beep through my items, stopped and paused at the alcohol. The cans appeared so tiny in his meaty hands, and I could not stop looking at his wrists.

"You know" he said "we have a deal on these"

"Oh, really?"

"But it depends on whether you're eligible"

"And what makes me eligible?"

He lifted one paw from the seltzers, palmed his crotch, looked at me, at the door, at my crotch, and then back at me. A thread of warmth trilled through me, from my nipples to my nuts.

"I think I'm eligible"

He moved, then. Flowing from behind the counter to the front of the shop, flicking the sign to Closed, and through the aisles, to a doorway to a storage room curtained in strips of blue plastic. I followed, and he was waiting for me, next to a case of cos lettuce.

"Don't have all day" he grunted, and unbuckled his jeans before shoving them around his ankles. I approached him reverently.

He placed his palm on my face, tenderly, and brushed his thumb across my lips. I went to speak, but he pressed a little firmer, then guided me down to my knees with his other hand. He readjusted: his fingers in the hair at the back of my neck, his other palm onto my jaw. His cock was swelling already, a bead of precum on the tip, and the veins prominent and shadowed in the overhead lights. He tapped his cock on my bottom lip, and curled his hips. It sat on my tongue, warm and musky with the day's sweat. He pumped slowly once, twice, and then gripped my skull tighter and began to fuck my mouth with vigour.

I'll admit I gagged, I couldn't not, he was fat as a can and swelling. Thick spit from my throat gushed down my chin, onto my shirt. I looked up at him, and he seemed to like that, increasing the speed of his thrusts. I reached down to play with myself, but he knocked my hand away with a tap of his foot. He started long strokes, hitting the back of my throat and pulling almost all the way out over and over before he stopped abruptly.

I'd barely caught my breath before he leaned down, picked me up by my pits like a lamb and turned me to face the cartons of beer a few feet away. A hand between my shoulder blades. Another, yanked down my little beach shorts, inhaling happily when he saw I was commando. He had initiative, and I didn't mind it. He was in charge, in control, and I felt like his little toy.

He reached under, cupped my balls and ran his thick thumb up my crack. I realised, too late, that I'd left the massager in. He searched for its handle, and pulled it out slowly, pressed it back in, twisted it, and then yanked it right out. He seemed fascinated, and he liked to play--testing and teasing me and how hungry and horny I was. A bit of the lube from earlier dribbled down my inner thigh, and I felt my face grow hot. I glanced back at him apologetically, and found his eyes full of heat.

"No, no" he breathed, "this is the best."

He leaned over, spat into my crack, and ran his thick thumb down all the way to my balls. Pinched them lightly. I moaned, desperate and he chuckled behind me.

He whispered "Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. Good boy, such a good boy", and I felt his breath on my taint. I placed his hand there, and I pushed back onto it like a good boy. He obliged, pressing his wet thumb onto my hole, then into my hole. I widened my hips, gasped, but Grant pulled back and out. More teasing, more whimpering. I was hungry, and he was in control. His finger back in, then another, another, in and out, stroking my soft insides, probing, stretching, preparing.

"Still a bit tight but we're on the clock. Use this" and handed me a little yellow bottle.

This was not my first rodeo, so I uncapped the amyl and took a deep sniff.