Thirst Ch. 05

Chapter 5, Truck Stop

Jim had given me some places to go to find cock and piss, so that evening, after changing my briefs and putting on jeans and a tee-shirt, along with my collar, of course, I headed for the first one on the list, a truck stop out by the interstate. I'd been there before - they have a pretty good and very inexpensive restaurant - but this time I parked with the big rigs on the far side of the building and used the entrance there.

I walked past the sales counter by the door and through rows of snack foods, personal-care items, and travel-related merchandise. At the back there were two doors marked Men and Ladies, respectively. The Men's door opened into a dimly lit, dark-carpeted locker room alongside a vast, bright, white-tiled bathroom. There were a dozen sinks, a half-dozen urinals, three toilet stalls, and four showers, each with its own privacy curtain.

There were three men there, one of them naked, drying himself in a shower stall. None of them paid me any attention, so I went to one of the urinals - they're the kind that go from above waist-height all the way to the floor - and I opened my pants and peed a little. I was at a loss; what do I do now, I wondered. The naked guy had gone out to the lockers without giving me a view of his cock, despite my effort. A couple of guys had come in, used the urinals, washed up at the sink and left. The humidity in the room was a little uncomfortable, only partly mitigated by the barely perceptible aroma of stale urine. I couldn't just stand around, so I went out and sat on one of the locker room benches closest to the bathroom. A guy stared at my collar and smirked as he passed me in the doorway, raising my hopes a little. I watched as a few guys came and went, but no one spoke to me.

Just as I was contemplating giving up for the time being and going to the restaurant for supper, a guy approached me, coming from the restaurant - he had a carry-out bag. I recognized him as the man I had seen naked. About 5-foot-10, he looked better now that he was dressed with his tight tee-shirt molded to his slim, muscular frame, defining his pecs in the way that his hairy chest had obscured them.

"You're still here?" he asked in a friendly tone. "Haven't found what you're looking for yet?"

"No, sir," I answered hopefully.

"Are you a faggot?" he asked in a similar tone before I could think of what to say next to keep the conversation going.

"Um..." I started, taken aback for a second. "Yes, I guess so..." I replied cautiously.

"You guess so? Ha-ha," he laughed pleasantly. "You look like you're cruising for cock."

"Yessir, I am." I said definitively. I liked this guy. "I assume you have one," I ventured, "I didn't really get a look before."

"Oh I've got one, alright." he grinned. "Maybe you'd like a taste of it," he suggested.

"Sounds delicious," I nodded affirmatively. "Can I drink your piss?" I asked boldly.

"Oh?" He looked me up and down; then his eyes fixed on my collar. "I met a girl here once, had a collar like yours... Couldn't get enough of my piss! We had a good time..." He paused. Hs eyes narrowed. "Sure, you can drink my piss, but you'll have to blow me first." He said it like it was an offer that couldn't be refused.

He started toward the exit to the store. "C'mon, faggot. We're going to my truck. It's the red cab with the orange trailer to the left of the exit. Buy me a 6-pack of Bud Lite and meet me there."

He was halfway through what looked like a bacon cheeseburger when I climbed into the cab and handed him a beer. He stopped eating and guzzled half the can before finishing the second half of each. "Climb in the back," he said, belching.

He pulled down his pants and sat on the edge of the bed that stretched the width of the cab. There was just enough room in front of him to kneel between his knees. His cock was standing straight up, six or seven inches, thick and textured with veins, topped with a huge purple knob that looked like a whole mouthful by itself.

It was. I bent my neck to engulf it and immediately I felt a pleasurable urge to suck it, as if it held a much needed refreshment. My tongue mashed and massaged the big fleshy head and he groaned his approval. I felt it swell, filling me tighter and pressing against the back of my throat. He placed a hand on top of my head and pressed it down, forcing my face into his lap and his cockhead into my throat. I spasmed slightly and my eyes teared, but I never choked as I felt him possess me with his cock. He controlled my head, bobbing it up and down, fucking himself with it. He gradually sped up, moving my head faster, up and down his thick shaft, stretching my tingling lips, until he stopped, held my head down, bucked his hips, and shot his wad, a load of cum that went straight into my gullet. It felt good to be used this way.

"You suck a lot of cock?" he asked, which I took as a compliment.

"Nnn-mm" I tried to answer without giving up the softening flesh still filling my mouth. I shook my head. Finally, letting his cock slip from my lips, I articulated, "No, this is only my third."

"Wow, I'm impressed!" he enthused. "You must be a natural. When did you start?"

"Yesterday," I replied. "Husband of a friend..."

"Yesterday? So, it's only your second day and you've already done it three times?" He looked at me with something akin to admiration.

"Yeah, no, I just wanted to drink his piss, but he also fucked my face," I explained. "And my ass too!" I grinned sheepishly.

"Well, you're good at it. I'm going to have to reward you with some serious piss, since you like it so much." He looked thoughtful. "If you don't have to go anywhere - I've got another eight or nine hours here - whaddaya say we finish off this six-pack together?"

I looked at him quizzically. "I don't have to go anywhere, but..."

"What I mean is, *I* drink it first; *you* drink it second hand." He smiled beneficently.

"Oh!" I said, "That sounds nice!" The blowjob had left me quite thirsty.

"Take off your clothes," he said, stepping out of his pants. He then pulled his shirt off as well.

I stood up as well as I could with the limited headroom and stripped down to my disposables.

He was surprised and said, "You like to pee in your pants too?"

"Well, not at first... It 's a medical condition," I replied.

"Oh. Okay, you can leave it on, then," he said. "For now." Later, I would lie face down on his bunk naked and he would fuck me, but first there was piss to drink.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and I sat on the floor at his feet. His cock, soft now, hung loosely between his legs. The head, although not as enormous, or as purple, as before, still stood out prominently and looked quite tasty. I engulfed it, closing my lips around the shaft behind it, and I looked up at him expectantly. It felt remarkably good in my mouth. A perfect fit.

In a moment, the flow began, a little tentative for a couple of seconds in which I savored its sour, bitter flavor, and then it began to stream forcefully, so that I had to swallow quickly, guzzling his piss down and filling my stomach. I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since lunchtime, so it felt wonderfully satisfying.

"How was it?" he asked expectantly when he had finished.

My oral effort to milk the last drops of pee was making his cock begin to swell again. I let it go and answered honestly, "It was delicious!"

He smiled smugly and said, "There's more to come. Hand me a beer."

I served him each beer in turn while we got to know each other and he drank. His name is Larry Wilkinson and he had been a salesman in the steel industry until he got tired of all the travel and opted ironically to become an OTR trucker. He's 49, ten years younger than me, and married to a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania. He drives a regular route that brings him through this town every week. He winked at me when he said that.

As I said, I liked Larry and was happy to answer his questions. He was surprised to hear that I'd never had any sexual interest in men until the day before. "I've been using faggots since high school," he said. "Not interested in a romantic sense, you know, but they're handy when you just need to blow a load. So much better than masturbating! Easy, too; no drama, never a big deal. And they're always so grateful!" Made me think that he might be right: maybe I was a faggot. Do you have to be gay to be a faggot, I wondered. I suppose it depends on your definitions.

After an hour of steady drinking, he said he was ready to go again. It was much like before, deliciously flooding my senses with its sour bitterness, only this time I peed in my pants while I swallowed his piss, which increased my pleasure. I was totally aroused. He fell asleep afterwards, lying on his back, with his flaccid cock exposed; it looking kind of cute and innocent. I pulled down my briefs and masturbated, watching him sleep. I came thinking about having his cock in my mouth again.

He woke up an hour or so later. His dick was hard. He told me to suck it while he lay there on his back. Then he said, "Let's fuck." He got up while I took off my soggy briefs and took his place on the bed face down, as he told me to.

He climbed on top of me, his belly on my back, his knees between mine. I felt his hand slip between the cheeks of my ass. He massaged my cleft, rubbing cool slickness into it. Some kind of lube, I figured. I felt the weight f his body on mine. It was warm. It was surprisingly nice, almost comforting. Then his erection slid into my crack and slid up and down it, teasing my hole, until he pressed the blunt end into it, prising it open. I relaxed my guard, willing him inside me.

He gently inched his tool into me, gradually stretching my tunnel until he was all the way in, pressed against my yielding butt. The he started fucking me. The discomfort disappeared on the first stroke as he withdrew, leaving a void that was immediately and welcomingly refilled. He fucked me with steady, measured strokes, like the expert blows of a master craftsman. And each stroke felt better than the one before it so that soon my relaxed passivity gave way to writhing and moaning, like the horny slut I had become.

That in turn triggered a more vigorous response in Larry. Before long he was thrusting faster, grunting and sweating, and I was wantonly raising my ass to meet each pounding thrust, while my cock, in full erection, was pressing and sliding against the bedsheet under me. When he came, I came too, thrilled by the spasmodic pulses inside me as we both spurted wildly and chaotically. He collapsed on my back, panting hotly in my ear.

There was still another beer left, so it wasn't until we'd both had another satisfying drink that I got dressed and went home. I had put my soggy disposables back on right after getting fucked and I was looking forward to examining them for cum leaks when I got home.