Chapter 5

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.