Dirty Filthy Hand Jobs in British Truck Stop Restrooms

His partner at the table wore a thick leather jacket. He was hunched over his food. His nose had a large wart. It looked ghastly. He was one of those men that had deep ruts of wrinkles and folds in their face like a garden gnome. She did not want to remember his face as her first hand job. So she went back to slowly eating half a spoon at a time to stretch out her meal.

Then, another truck driver entered the room. He was medium short and walked with a wide stance like he rarely walked at all and only sat in his truck. The workout pants showed neglect by their stains. His belly made the man move in a roundabout way to heave himself onto the bar stool.

More than anything else, the black wool beanie reminded her off her dad. He was of a similar build, an installation worker deployed somewhere in a Third World country to install a British power station. She missed her dad. Through her dad, she had learned the adorable side of working men. Even though her dad was short on words, in his heart he always appreciated his daughter. And she could feel it in hers. It was the silent presence of happiness. A silent presence of happiness could make for a good first hand job memory.

She moved her handbag slowly from one chair to the next. Each chair required her to muster the courage again fresh. Then, two chairs away she asked him a superfluous question just to make contact. She did not remember what she asked - the time or something.

Hearing his booming and rough voice made her comfortable. He was loud, outspoken, direct; and his mind was simple. By all aspects of beauty, the man was ugly and he had probably abandoned himself to sitting in a truck for the rest of his life. He ignored his feelings of boredom in the truck and random glimpses of a fancy dream. His beard and shaved head were all set up for minimal maintenance. Even with that, he struggled. However, she cared about feeling comfortable.

She waited politely for him to finish his scampi meal. When he put his fork down after the last bite, she almost blurted from anxiety. Her heart pounded. She tried to slow down her speech and avoid slurring with her proposition to give him a hand job back in the restroom for fifty pounds.

It was almost too easy. It was like pushing down an open swing door with a police battering ram. The man, Liam, followed her like a lamb to the back of the restaurant. She had expected entering prostitution to be a big thing. Somewhere she had expected an orchestra to play, police sirens to whine, and women to point their fingers at her. However, it was as easy as walking down a hallway. She was just walking. The ease of it panicked her even more.

Entering the filthy, greasy bathroom, she remembered a time when she would have freaked at the sight of it, in the sheltered years before her employer had closed down. However, since she had experienced so much and just taken it. Her mind went to take-it-and-move-on mode. Drawing on a cigarette helped her calm a bit, but her lungs were shaking and pulling in air hard.

Looking at the toilet seat, she remembered the words of her cleaning supervisor: "If you can see it, the customer can see it." She quickly rolled up toilet paper on her hand and started wiping. When the old pee stains and deep graffiti carvings wouldn't get any cleaner, she tossed the filth rag into the water of the bowl and hoped that Liam was too focused on the hand job to notice.

The heavy man plopped onto the toilet seat in one motion. The sweatpants and his briefs were down around his ankles, and he didn't worry about them touching the ground. The big sweater made him half dresses, while the fat fold of his body made the penis seem like a hidden detail. Luckily, his penis was already at half staff. She would not have to strain to arouse the man. His big brawny hands hung down at his side.

To get the door closed in the tiny stall with the big whale of a man, she had to squeeze herself almost into thin air. Pushing against the stall wall, toeing around the filthy toilet bowl and barely touching the man's knee, she managed to close the rattling door to her new cage.

Without words, she squatted down in her high heels and kept her knees together to be neat and compact. Her dress was a bit above her knee. Her pokey knees showed in the buff. He took up two thirds of the stall. She took up a sixth, and the final sixth was taken up by corners and tiny miscellaneous gaps.

She reached for his penis with her hand. She felt the smooth skin of the penis. Holding the firm stick of flesh felt good. She started moving her hand up and down. It was so easy to do. She looked at the penis head shining with smooth skin. The skin on the shaft moved easily. So, it must have been uncircumcised. It made it easier to grab the whole skin to move up and down instead of having to slide over the taut skin of a circumcised penis.

She looked down at the floor. The dark gray filth marks and undefined water spots made her shiver a bit and look elsewhere. She looked at the penis, her swooshing hand, the groin hair, and the large meaty thighs. Through the urine stench of the restroom, she could faintly smell his penis oozing pheromones due to the erection. It was a musky smell - he had probably not showered in three days on his truck route. She thought of her own autoerotic session in her room and the smell of her own pussy after working it hard and alone.

A man entered the bathroom. Liam freaked. She calmed him down. For all she knew, the other man enjoyed interrupting them and would later jerk off to the memory of it. Men are that way. And she did not want to lose out on her fifty pounds half way through.

Liam had lasted already minutes. She squeezed harder with her hand, because she knew that it made it more intense for guys. And then, the pulsing started. She knew that it was the final spring. She squeezed harder and pummeled the meat more furiously. And, then as she had learned from her boy friends, she caught the jizz with copious toilet paper. The mellowed man completely collapsed.

She went outside to busy herself behind the mirror with the broken faucet and empty paper towel dispenser. She busied herself to give him a moment to compose himself before taking her pay. She flirted a bit. He paid with a half clean bill.

Leaving the truck stop behind, she stood in the cold and realized that she needed a ride. Liam coincidentally went her way. He was a pleasant, quiet, and accommodating man. For some reason, his quietness made her blurt out about that he should be going to the butt fucking school. She realized that she was telling him how to live his life and thought that it was funny how we lectured other people.

From the drop off by Liam at the center of Nantwich, it was a short walk to the end of Crontkinson Avenue. The building was an old biker club near the railroad station. Plenty of choppers were parked outside. Yet, the building was mostly empty and dark, because the bikers had gone to sleep or drink in the pubs. Only a lit room at the end of a hallway on the second floor had the lights on. She carefully walked through the half darkness of the building. Flags and biker jackets as memorabilia adorned the walls.

A blond 25 year old girl behind a counter surprised Charlotte.

"There you are. You must be Charlotte. We have been waiting for you."

The girl was a short, perky, and proud postured woman. She wore a blue satin mini skirt and a big leather jacket over her shoulders. The shoulders of her leather jacket were checkered black and white. Her hair was a vivid blond with the hair evenly and symmetrically cut. The back of her hair was twirled and held in place with a chopstick. The hair ends looked sharp and like a pin wheel behind her head.

"I will just have you fill out the consent form and pay. The class has already started. However, they haven't gotten to the good parts yet."

The confidence and cheery clarity in the voice of the woman made Charlotte jealous. The woman looked like a club kid with her attractive makeup, radiantly red cheeks and deeply vivid blue eyes.

After Charlotte had filled out the form and paid, the woman slid off her chair. And, Charlotte noticed the knee high black leather high heel boots with which the girl strutted in front of her to the training room. Leaning and hanging from the side of the door frame, she called into the room that Charlotte had arrived. Then, the woman left into the darkness of the hallway. Apparently, her duty was done for the day.

The room was the only seat of activity in the whole building. Mr. Carling was a sleaze bag. He wore a stylish show cowboy costume. It was a black shirt with white decorative stitching. His pants were black under a white chaps from rough cow hide. He wore a black hat with strings tied around it. The end of the strings formed a stiff V.

"Charlotte dear, you are just in time. We have done all the basic warm up exercises. If you can come over here to this massage table, so that we can pair you up with a partner. Oh, Lewis over here has a small but lovely sized penis of five inches that will make it easy for you to get started."

Charlotte looked around the room. A mix of a handful of men and women stood naked or only dressed in socks and a t-shirt in the room. The atmosphere was already congenial and heavily focused from the class. The faces calmly followed the teacher guiding her to a green vinyl massage table.

"Honey, let's get you naked and lying with your knees tucked under at the edge of the table."

The pale floral dress came off easily over her head. She had worn a dress to make it easy to undress. The off-white grandma lace panties came off quickly over her knees and ankles. The high heels had her already barefoot. She kneeled onto the table and lowered herself onto her knees. Mr. Carling suavely placed a pillow under her sideways facing head for comfort.

Her naked body lay like a little package on the table. Her bare feet folded sideways under her butt. Her butt had the cheeks spread to expose her anus that pulsed with every breath and the long slit of her vagina that was glistening with regular day to day half dried excretion. Her body felt cuddled by her knees and the pillow. She relaxed into not seeing behind her to surrender to the soft sensation she anticipated inside of herself.

Lewis was a balding man with the face of an insurance salesman. His face was sweaty with nervousness about putting in practice the classes' theory section. He stood next to Mr. Carling. Mr. Carling held a large bottle of lubricant in his left hand. Raised ten inches over her butt, he demonstrated pouring a stream of lubricant down onto her butt cleft. His right hand was placed on the soles of her feet anticipating the overage of the lubricant.

"There can never be too much lubricant. When the lubricant hits my lower hand, I know that there is enough. And, then I am going to stroke and distribute the oil. The pussy stimulation also starts her erotic engine. Starting her erotic engine is crucial to the whole thing being fun."

Feeling the lubricant running down her ass made her feel dirty. However, she let it happen. And, then Mr. Carling's suave hand massaged the oil up and down all the way from her clitoris to the top of her butt cleft. There was something very soothing to the motion, and she surrendered to it, almost got dreamy.

One of the women in the audience called out "Look how angelic her face is." Charlotte could feel by the changing pressure on her mound that Mr. Carling was turning to face the woman, probably with a big satisfied smile.

"For beginners, it is best to mix familiar erotic stimulation with new erotic anal stimulation."

With one hand, Mr. Carling twiddled her vagina. The other hand massaged her anus. Pretty quickly, his thumb started plopping in and out of her anus.

"Oh, we have an experienced student here. Lewis come over here, put on a condom and lube up. Charlotte is ready to receive you."

The voice in Lewis' throat crackled with nervous tension. A few moments later, she felt the tip of his penis poking at her anal sphincter. She was completely surrendered to her pose and the warm stimulation of her loins.

"Now, poke on the outside only a little bit. You don't want to go in yet."

However, on the first poke already half of the penis head entered her. And, on the second poke, Lewis slowly glided his five incher all the way in. Mr. Carling instructed him to start a slow rhythm, while pinching and rotating her nipples. Mr. Carling checked in with Charlotte to how much pressure she liked on her nipples. She liked a lot, because it made her pussy water.

The class clapped in admiration. Charlotte smiled with the happiness of a good student. Mr. Carling asked to provide feedback to Lewis.

"Once you are inside of me, I don't feel a whole lot. It's really the entering and exiting that makes it sexy. If you could completely come in and out with each thrust, that would feel great."

A woman in the audience nodded audibly with a 'hm.' Mr. Carling encouraged the student to follow her advice. After a few thrusts, Mr. Carling interrupted.

"Charlotte, I think that you are ready for a little more. Samuel has a proud eleven inch cock. No worries, it is not very wide. It is just long as the Euro Tunnel."

Samuel was a young athletic looking guy. He could have been a baker or a student. His hair was blond and short. The features of his face were large, blocky, and friendly. She did not see his penis, because her body was covering the view. She only felt it slowly entering the already loosened hole.

And, then her arse started filling and filling. Mr. Carling had Samuel stop.

"How are you feeling, Charlotte? We are about half way in."

"Oh, I feel like he is coming out my throat."

The class laughed warmly at her teary eyes. Hinted by Mr. Carling, Samuel kept moving farther into Charlotte. Charlotte felt like overflowing. Her heart started pounding. She started wailing a loud moan that curled everyone's skin. It wasn't a sharp scream. It was a low vibrating hum of 'haaaaa.' Mr. Carling guided Samuel's hand underneath her chest in between the boobs to feel her heart.

"Samuel, you can always check into her breathing and heart rate by putting your hand here. And, don't lose the courage. Keep going, two more inches and you are in. I swear, she is having the time of her life."

The flooding feeling of her ass spread over her whole body, so that she could no longer locate the source of the intensity. At the same time, it felt large and expansive like the feeling of diving into a large lake and being surrounded by luscious water. She buried her face into the pillow. Her heart and soul were screaming into the pillow like she had never been alive before. The students ruffled their bodies enthralled and raptly attending to the process.

When Samuel was all the way in, Mr. Carling told him to pull out completely and do it again. The second time, her entire body felt alive and every muscle of her wanted to fuck that dick. When it was all the way in, she yelled with a strong voice "Oh, fuck me."

Her face was resting on the side of the pillow again. It had become sweaty. The makeup had become moist and blurry. Her face had the expression that showed the anal had activated her parasympathetic nervous system. Mr. Carling guided the rest of the class to partner up, while she got thrust into sensual bliss.

Mr. Carling had everyone rotate from partner to partner, so that everyone got to feel everyone and provide feedback. After an hour of anal stimulation by varying partners, Charlotte was in a blissful place of falling between a drowsy sleep and melting orgasms. The position of lying on her knees was really comforting and cozying her into a deeper state of relaxation and regression.

PART III

A few weeks later, Liam stood in front of the entrance to the biker club in Nantwich on a sunny afternoon. The biker club sign was a large, shiny, multi-color spectacle. The only hint of the Hot Carling academy was a plastic display box stuffed with flyers and the logo now familiar to Liam.

The regular glance of Liam's eyes on the business card that he had left where Charlotte had placed it on the dashboard had worked his mind. Liam couldn't stop glancing at the business card that Charlotte had placed on the dashboard. No more than he could remove it or throw it away. Somehow it reminded him of her. The curiosity, boredom of being alone in the widowed house, and the fading memory of the mystery woman with the hand job had driven him to search out the academy on a free afternoon in between truck runs.

A biker sat lazily on his bike in front of the white two story building. The biker had big puffy leather gear on. The black helmet only covered the top of the head. The large black sun glasses covered the rest.

"Is the Hot Carling Academy here?"

"You are at the right place, son. That's some good shit. I have tried it and loved it. I really love pounding hard and unleashing my inner savage."

"Very well then, sir."

Liam continued on. There was a large garage with half assembled bikes, tools, rags, and lifts everywhere. The shiny painted gas tanks with their skulls, dragons, and flashy women made him pause for a moment, before he searched his way past an office-like room to a staircase.

At the top of the staircase was a sign. Rafters were standing everywhere and crossing each other. They were painted over white giving the building a rustic yet meticulous feel. Half way down the hall was a counter.

Behind the counter stood a blond 25 year old girl. Her legs were spread in a wide stance. He could literally feel the draft of air up her skirt touching her coochie. The girl had her hands in her leather jacket pockets. She didn't move at all until Liam was straight in front of her. Then, her blue shining eyes sized him up, while she chewed on her gum. Her facial features were on the small side. Her lips were lined by a dramatic dark red line. Her eyes had black makeup lines to make her look dramatic.

"You have come to the best place in England to learn butt fucking. And, England is the best place in the world to butt fuck. It's because we are uncircumcised here, so that we can't do blow jobs."

Liam pulled himself a class schedule along the counter and studied it.

"Butt fucking 101"

"Butt fucking 102"

"Butt fucking 103"

"Finger dexterity workshop"

"What is the finger dexterity workshop?"

"Oh, it is rad. That's an elective for after you finish the boot camp. Any woman familiar with our curriculum, who finds out that you took the class will drop her panties in a heartbeat. I do. And, I am happy for it every time."

"The class starts with piano practice. The point is to learn to move each finger individually. Then we have juggling instruction. Once your mind can keep track of five balls in the air, you are ready for the practical part of class. You learn to put your pinky in the ass, the index finger in the pussy, and the thumb on the clitoris. Once you can sense and stimulate each finger individually, you are ready to rock her world."

"Basically, a human being can keep track of one touch pretty well. Keeping track of two points becomes already overwhelming. Step it up to three points of stimulation and her mind is flooded with good vibrations that she can't source and place anywhere. It's a great class."

"Uh-uh, what is the fisting workshop?"

"That's another wonderful elective. We teach you how to make your hand small in the shape of a duck head. Once you are inside the ass, you make a fist and pump up and down. Boy, those are one of the wildest orgasms. The class also teaches double fisting."

"You mean you had a fist in your ass?"

"Oh, you bet. I haven't done double yet. However, I love the single fist."

Liam seized up her small and well trained body. Her clothes looked sexy. He imagined her muscular body pummeled by a fist.