Chad drove his MG through the night as the wind and hard rain performed a steady dance on the windshield. The wipers were working, but the blades were in such poor condition that he considered simply turning them off. Keeping his senses tuned to the repetitive thump of the road markers, he focused his eyes on the taillights of the 18-wheeler he had followed for the last 50 miles or so. They served as a beacon of hope as he literally felt his way along the interstate.
He hadn't slept in 17 hours and had originally planned not to stop until he reached Charleston. The road began to bend and blur in his mind and eyes. Charleston was still several hours away. Would he be able to stay awake for a drive straight through? He thought not, bid the 18-wheeler a fond goodbye, and pulled into the exit lane for the oncoming rest area.
It was 3:20 A.M. The parking lot was deserted except for a Winnebago, a pickup truck with stickers that screamed redneck, and a bright yellow Z-28 Camaro.
Chad pulled in at the end of the lot, just past the coffee and soda machines. The streetlight cast a soft shadow that would make it comfortable to sl**p, yet left enough dim light to see by. He crawled out of the car, stretched, and headed toward the rest room.
Chad's nose quickly adapted to the mild odor of male urine floating just above that of ammonia-laced cleaning solution. Surprisingly, it was well lit, but otherwise it looked like a million other roadside rest rooms:cigarette butts floating in the toilet, piss trails on the lowered semicircle commodes, and a hollowed-out glory hole on the left stall, next to the only urinal in the room.
Chad bent slightly and looked down at the stall next to the urinal. True to form, a pair of loafers showed beneath the stall wall.
Chad had been on his own in many ways since the age of 16. He was thoroughly aware of many things in life, but hadn't been exposed to very much. He was straight, lived a rather conservative life, and seldom ventured far outside his general routine. With a 6-foot-2 swimmer-kick boxer's build, emerald-green eyes, and short-cropped blond hair, he never wanted for female companionship--a good thing, since Chad was constantly horny.
He headed for the other stall but discovered the toilet was not working and filled with all types of crap and paper debris. With slight caution but no real concern, he headed to the urinal and prepared to relieve himself.
Chad was not aware of the politically correct holding position when being viewed, so he simply placed his hands on his hips, allowing his cock to hang over the elastic waistband of his briefs. A heretofore unknown exhibitionist side of Chad began to emerge. He reached down and lowered the waistband farther, allowing the elastic to lift and rest behind his balls, leaving the sac to hang as well.
His admirer's feet began to tap their soles lightly against the cold floor. Chad assumed that this meant he was interested in what he saw. He leaned to the right,giving himself a better view of his inquisitive neighbor. He was amused and more curious than interested. The shoes were, as he suspected on first glance, Docksides, the original brand, and probably set the wearer back at least $95 to $100. The silver belt buckle that was hanging down was attached to what appeared to be genuine alligator. Was this a poor little rich boy slumming? Chad shifted his weight, exposing more of himself by standing back from the urinal. The stranger shifted his weight also and leaned closer to the hole, pressing his face snugly against the wall for the most advantageous view as Chad finished pissing and began shaking off the remaining droplets of urine.
Despite his intentions or awareness of what was actually taking place, Chad found himself enjoying this new ritual. Even as his hand began to fill with his own enlargement, his brain reminded him that he was straight and that there was a guy on the other side of the wall. Usually he would have finished his piss, murmured "faggot" or similar words, and gotten the hell out.
His admirer, noticing Chad's growth, shifted himself anxiously, lowering his head to the open hole and exposing his wet lips. They parted for his tongue to reach outside of them, trailing a layer of moisture around their exterior not closing completely, they formed an entry point for pleasure. Chad went on automatic pilot as he turned toward the invitation with full erection and pressed himself through the hole, passing between the admirer's moist lips and down his waiting throat.
Chad seldom masturbated, and it had been a long time since his last sexual encounter, so the warm, moist mouth felt like heaven to his aching cock. As he began to move his cock in and out fo the willing orifice, he realized just how much he had missed mere human contact. He shifted his feet and his balance, getting into a smooth, rhythmic motion.
Chad let all thoughts and cares leave his mind and became totally absorbed in the soft sucking of the stranger, who seemed to ignite every sensitive inch of his 8" cock. The room echoed with an occasional moan when Chad pushed himself hard against the dividing wall, shoving his belt buckle into his lower abdomen as his hard dick slid deeper into the throat that seemed to beg for more. The heat was intense, and the pressure building up in him was almost at the breaking point. The stranger must have sensed this also and closed his mouth, shielding the teeth with his lips, tightening his hold on Chad's cock while moving his tongue up and down the underside of the shaft and around the head.
Chad stepped up his motion, moving in and out of the hole, deeper with each thrust. The gentle moan he heard before was now turning into deep, guttural sounds as he slammed himself against the back of his receiver's mouth and down his throat. Chad admired the way he remained pressed against the hole, not backing off from the thrusting his face was enduring as it repeatedly received the protruding cock. He wondered what it would be like to bury his member up to the ball sac in the stranger's mouth, a guys mouth, his brain reminded him. Just then he reached his limit. He thought he screamed deep down inside, but the sound escaped his lips and vibrated around the deserted rest room as his cock erupted on a downward stroke. The stranger held firm as Chad impaled him through the wall, burying himself deep within his throat. Chad couldn't move as he unloaded what felt like quarts of himself. The stranger met his f***e with the same level of intensity, massaging up and down the length of Chad's cock with his inner cheeks and tongue as he came.
As the flow ebbed and the onslaught subsided, the stranger lessened his suction grip and gently sucked the remaining juices. The action was soothing and comforting and caused Chad not to withdraw, even though he had nothing more to give. His rigid cock now simply hung, full and heavy, enjoying the aftermath attention.
The stranger did not encourage his departure. He seemed disappointed that the encounter was at an end and lingered, softly cleaning and soothing Chad's member as it receded to a withdrawn state. Chad slowly pulled himself from the hole. He leaned against the wall for a long moment. His entire body felt drained as he mentally prepared himself to go and find a comfortable way to curl up in his little car for a couple of sl**p-filled hours. Then the door to the stall began to open.
Chad's first instinct was to dash out the door. This had been his first sexual experience with another guy,and he needed more time to evaluate how he really felt about it. The last thing he wanted was to be faced with a limp-wristed, swishy-hipped, lisping faggot who had taken his only remaining virginity. He wasn't blaming anyone, though, or going on a guilt trip he had participated willingly and had a hell of a good time to boot. In fact, the mere fact that he had enjoyed himself so much was probably his only real concern. No girl had ever given him a blow job that was so good it made him scream. If nothing more, he thought, since he was basically trapped, he could at least be civil and say thank you, then get the hell out.
"Hi," Dalton opened. He realized the moment their eyes connected that this was a straight guy in shock. He brushed by him quickly, rinsed off his hands, and pulled down a couple of paper hand towels. "I'm Dalton," he continued;having dried his hands, he extended one to the stranger.
"Ah---" Chad hesitated, finally saying, "Hi, I'm Chad."
"Good to meet you, Chad," Dalton finished, returning a firm handshake.
Chad felt momentarily lost. Even though Dalton was probably in his late 20's compared to Chad's mid 30's, this guy could have been his dorm buddy, his science lab partner, or even his fraternity b*****r. He looked just like all the other jocks he played tennis and baseball with on weekends. Hell, he looked good enough to introduce to his s****r. What the hell was he doing in a piss-smelling rest room giving blow jobs?
"Where're you headed?" Dalton ventured.
"Well, it seems we've both got a couple of hours to go. I'm headed to James Island Park."
"Is that where you're from?" Chad inquired. For some reason he was comfortable conversing with this stranger-one who only moments ago, he reminded himself, was feasting on his cock.
"No. I'm from the Southwest, actually. I decided to get lost traveling around the country for a couple of weeks. You know," Dalton said, raising one eyebrow, "you really look tired. How long have you been driving?"
"Not long, really." Chad betrayed himself with a wide yawn before completing the sentence. "It's just that I've been up"-he glanced at his watch-"almost 18 hours. I spent eight of those finishing up a project at work before I left for vacation, so I'm burned out mentally as well as physically. I'm gonna die in my car for a couple of hours before I hit the road again." He turned and started walking slowly toward the door, totally unaware that he had slowed his movement to allow Dalton to depart with him.
Dalton was mesmerized by this stranger. Although Chad's intense green eyes were tired and bl**d shot, they were also alive ad alert. Dalton's original assumption that Chad was straight still seemed to be accurate. His comfortable conversation and relaxed eye contact made Dalton wonder if he had forgotten having had his cock sucked only moments ago, and damn well too, if he did say so himself. But now it seemed they were talking like two old friends chatting at a company picnic. Chad turned to leave and paused as if Dalton should naturally leave with him. Dalton had no quarrel with the implied gesture and quickly joined Chad on the porch.
"So, what are you driving?"
Chad directed a simple smile at Dalton and pointed toward the MG under the soft light. The had stopped, and the car's emerald-green color shone under the streetlights.
"That's what you're going to sl**p in?" Dalton realized how condescending his statement sounded, but only after it had departed his lips. He had immediately begun to formulate his apology when Chad broke into a deep, hearty laugh. He reached over with his right hand, placing it on Dalton's shoulder, and gave him a playful shove.
"Yes! You insensitive bastard," he responded. His road-tired face lit up like a Christmas tree with amusement. His dimples seemed to go right through his cheeks as his eyes took on the twinkle of a devilish 12-year-old. "And I supposed you're traveling in that big fucking condominium-size camper over there," he said, pointing to the large blue and white streamlined RV. Dalton saw the humor in Chad's face and decided he could give as good as he got.
"First of all, my parents were married for 16 months before my oldest b*****r was born, I might add. So it is impossible for me to be a bastard; at least, impossible in the conventional definition of the word." He glanced over at Chad and saw the slightest hint of a smile forming, but he was on a roll and did not want to lose his train of thought. "Secondly, yes, I am in the, and I quote, 'fucking condominium-size' camper over there. If you watch your mouth and play your cards right, I just might let you stretch out on one of its full-size beds for the night rather than in your little 'speed racer' matchbox car." He ended his statement with a glare of friendly defiance that could not have been more perfectly timed. Chad became animated, and between bursts of laughter, he met Dalton's gaze with a grin of surrender.
"Ok, you win that round," he conceded. "I throw in the towel." It amazed him how nice it felt to give in to Dalton. It was as if they were just meeting each other, playing the exploring games, teasing slightly without keeping score. These were games he played with girls, not guys. Something really weird was happening here, and he knew it, but it didn't stop him from following Dalton when he descended the porch steps and headed across the parking lot.