“It’s coming! Coming! Blasting into your mouth, you hot cocksucking stud bastard!” Mirco shouted, reverting to English. As though I needed to be told he was coming, in any language. He sure was!
He was flooding my esophagus and my guts with his hot load of jism, and I swallowed nonstop in my effort to get it all down before I choked on the sheer quantity of it.
I wanted to scream in exultation in reply while he filled my parched mouth and scoured-out throat with his sweet creamy flow. Instead, mute, I swallowed again and again, feeling his warm cum tingling down in my belly, nourishing me.
Give it to me, man, all of it, all of your hot juice! That’s what I wanted to tell him. Shoot your cum right down my throat, let me have it, all of it, every goddamn drop of your spunk! Let me taste that delicious stud fuck fluid that I’m sucking out of your big cock!
But of course all that Mirco heard of this lewd little interior monologue going on inside my head was a lot of obscene, satisfied-sounding grunting and gulping and slurping, while I continued greedily to devour the outpouring from his exploding, unloading dick.
A minute or two later, after he’d not only stopped coming, but he had begun to calm down from the intense experience, Mirco let go of me and he sank back on the bed. He laughed, nervously, and he pulled me off his cock, which I was still sucking—of course!—even though it had gone frustratingly dry.
“No more, please! Cut it out. I’m sore,” he complained, happily, with a laugh. “Jesus, I think that mouth of yours took a layer of skin off my penis. You’ve rubbed me raw. That’s all of that hot mouth action I can take for one night! You’re good,” he complimented me. “Almost too good!”
He pulled me up from the floor and took me in his arms, after I stretched out beside him on the bed. We began to kiss and fondle each other. I’d shot my own load all over the fucking floor and the side of the bed while he’d been flooding my throat with his cum! So we were both pretty well worn out for the time being, although we were also undeniably as happy as hell.
I grinned at Mirco between two of the lustful, open-mouthed, tongue kisses in which we were indulging. My hand tried to get some response from his now limp, exhausted prick.
“Please,” he implored me, when my manipulations failed to bring his flaccid appendage back to life. “I’m done. That thing isn’t going to rise again, for a few hours, at the earliest, no matter what you do to it.”
“Okay—I’ll let you alone for now,” I promised. “But only on one condition.”
He returned my grin. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“That you let me have another crack at that big, juicy dick of yours, before you check out in the morning.”
He shook himself in disbelief and he laughed, breathlessly. “All right,” he gasped. “You’ve got yourself a deal, stud. I think I’m going to like this motel’s idea of a wakeup call!”
Chapter Three: The Changing of the Guard
I spent the night in Mirco’s room, in bed with him. No one came to the office. My phone, which I kept handy on the nightstand, didn’t ring.
In the morning, though, I had to haul my ass out of bed and get dressed, so I could return to the office before one of the other employees came to relieve me. Had he reported to duty, only to find the office abandoned, I’d have had some explaining, and some lying, to do. Luckily, I showed up ten minutes before my replacement, a pleasant enough guy named Mark, arrived—looking sleepy, with takeout coffee and a box of donuts, which he’d just purchased at the diner next door to the motel, in hand.
“Slow night?” Mark guessed.
“Yeah. Completely uneventful,” I lied. As a highway hustler, I’d become pretty damn good at deceit and fabrication, if I do say so myself. They were survival skills, after all, in my sideline of work.
I accepted his offer of a donut, which I stuffed in my mouth. I left Mark in charge. I slipped back inside Number Five, where I shed my clothes and jumped back into bed with Mirco.
This time, he sucked my cock, we sixty-nined, we took turns rimming each other—and then I fucked him, using the lube he’d brought with him.
Ooh, did that man have a fine, butch ass, just the kind of a manly rear end which gave my cock a long, hard ride!
“Don’t come,” he begged me. “Fuck me, but don’t come yet. I want this to last.”
I groaned in frustration. “I want it to last, too. But with that hot ass of yours squeezing down on my dick—! You’re asking the impossible. Hey, I’ve got an idea, buddy. I’ll pull out of you, and you can shove yours in me.”
“Can I really fuck you?”
“Of course.”
I withdrew from his manhole, and I sat on the bed for a moment, panting for breath, trying to calm down, and also doing my best to ignore the plaintive way in which my pecker was mutely pleading for release.
“Okay, I’m ready when you are,” I said. And I have to confess that my bunghole was already twitching and tingling in anticipation.
“Before I screw you, there’s something else I’ve wanted to do with you, ever since I walked into the office and first saw you, last night.”
“Yeah? And just what might that be?”
“Let me worship that hot fucking stud body of yours!” Mirco exclaimed.
I’d expected to hear a more esoteric request. What he was proposing sounded damn good to be. More than willing, I lay back on the bed. “Be my guest.”
“Flex for me. Pose for me,” he pleaded.
“Oh, you’re going to make me work for it, are you?” I told him, playfully. “All right.”
I roused myself. I tensed my muscles for him, inviting him not only to look at them, but to submit them to closer inspection, with his hands, his lips, and his tongue. Mirco seemed to be in muscle heaven! He explored every part of my naked body with his hands and mouth. He gave me a tongue bath, licking my flesh so passionately that he soon had me squirming, torn between agony and delight. Mirco was shameless. He licked my armpits—my crotch—my feet, swabbing my soles with his agile tongue and inserting it between my toes.
“I’m a muscle-worshipping man whore,” he said, at one point, and I couldn’t disagree with him.
“I do reciprocate, you know,” I felt obligated to inform him, finally. “Let me make you feel good, too.”
“How are you going to do that?” he asked me, excitedly.
“Like this,” I vowed. “Hold on,” I advised him. “You’re about to go for a ride—!”
I got up on my knees on the bed between his legs, flung my arms up to hug his torso, and I sucked his dick into my mouth. I took him right down to the thick soft patch of hair at the root of his cock, and I clamped my lips around the shaft so tightly that he couldn’t have gotten away from me even if he’d wanted to. But, obviously, he didn’t want to. He liked it, all right! Hell, I have yet to meet the man who doesn’t like the way I give a blow job. He did resist a bit at first, squirming under me, but when my tongue began to tickle his prick inside my mouth, and my lips pulled slowly back and forth on him, sliding his foreskin up and down over his glans, he gave in and surrendered himself completely. His dick swelled, seeming to expand larger with each and every suck I lavished upon it. That big penis pushed my lips farther apart, and the thick head jabbed restlessly at the back of my throat.
“Oh, that feels good,” he groaned. “That feels so fucking good! I’m so lucky to have gotten off the highway and stopped here. To have met you, and had you. To still be having you, you farm boy stud—!”
There was a salty, sweaty taste between his legs, and a musky scent to his crotch, but that only excited me more. I began to suck him with feverish intensity, as though his cock was the most delicious-tasting male organ in all of creation. And, at that moment, so far as I was concerned, it was! I can’t describe how good it felt to have a fresh cock in my mouth. I feasted on it. I sucked him with everything I had in me. I used every trick I knew. My mouth flew back and forth on that stiff fuck pole, my lips slurping on it, my tongue licking it,
as though I was sucking on a big, thick piece of stick candy! Making it melt in my mouth, saturating my taste buds with its sweetness!
I felt the penis growing even larger, more rigid, and elongating inside my mouth. The foreskin was pulled back, the cockhead naked and slippery as it rammed in and out of my lips. Mirco’s legs shook. He was leaning farther and farther over me. I knew he was close to shooting, and I had to make a quick decision. Should I keep blowing him and let him shoot off in my mouth, or stop sucking his cock and let him screw me, as we’d been discussing shortly before?
Oh, what a dilemma!
I wanted to taste his sperm. I knew he was so excited that he’d give me a lot of fuck juice if I let him blast off in my throat. I wanted to drink it, to swish it over my tongue and relish its flavor, to feel it tingling all the way down when I swallowed it. But I wanted to get fucked, too, and that desire won out—so, with the utmost reluctance, I summoned my will power and I pulled my mouth off him. From the groan he let out and the look of disappointment on his face, I deduced it was just in time. Another moment, and he’d have been giving me a hot mouthful of cum.
He made a grab for his cock, as though he meant to jerk off and finish the job for himself, but I pushed his hand away. I tugged on his stiff prick with my own hand, bringing him down onto the bed with me.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re the one who said he didn’t want to come yet, remember. Put it in me!” I demanded. “Stick that big thing in me, Mirco! Fuck my ass! Fuck it just like you’d fuck a hot, juicy cunt! Yeah, man, you just pretend you’re home with your wife and you’re banging her pussy!”
He groaned. “Let’s leave my wife out of this, okay? Trust me, she’s nothing like you!”
But he didn’t need to be invited to screw me twice. He grabbed me by my ankles and spread me apart as though I was the wishbone of a roasted turkey! He was so eager to take me that he didn’t bother with the lube which was still out on the nightstand, ready to hand. Instead, he just wet his prick with a handful of saliva, and then he plunged his weight down on top of me. His dick was so hard it felt like a bar of steel when he wedged the head between my buttocks and against my hole, and he began to push himself inside me. I clawed at his shoulders while he drove his erection down, and that big, beautiful prick sank into me, inch after inch! It felt so good!
I squealed with delight, in what was undoubtedly a less than macho fashion, and I threw my legs up from the mattress and locked them around his back. When he began to hump me, I thought I was going to lose my mind, I was so maddened with lust. He didn’t waste any time about it. There were no preliminaries, and very little in the way of refinements. Just good, old-fashioned cornholing, which was the way I wanted it from him. He shoved his manhood deep into my anus and he went right to work. His butt pumped up and down like a drilling machine as he drove his cock into my behind.
He grunted and sobbed with each stroke of his hot dick, and I was answering him with moans and shouts of my own. He kissed me, but I was too far gone, too lost in my own ecstasy, to do more than peck at his lips in return. All I could think about was that prick buggering me, rampaging in and out of my horny shithole!
“Fuck me!” I screamed. “Fuck me, man! Fuck me hard! Come on, stud, pound that hot whore ass of mine! I like it rough. Slam to me as hard as you can!”
“That’s what I’m doing!”
And he was! He was fucking me! Oh, God, was he ever fucking me!
“Faster! Harder!” I insisted. “Please!”
His body hammered at mine, his chest hitting my pecs so hard it hurt. But the pain was swallowed up in the fierce pleasure blazing away inside my rectum. Each thrust of his huge prick made me see stars, until finally I was gasping and rolling and writhing under him so violently that his dick almost slipped out when he pulled back in preparation to make another thrust. I tightened my legs around him and I pulled him back inside me—and with that last thrust, I began to ejaculate.
I buried my face in his shoulder and I bit down hard on his flesh to keep from screaming and bringing any guest who might be sleeping late in the adjacent room from calling the office to complain about the noise, or from knocking on the door themselves, to see whom was being killed! As it was, my love bite left teeth marks on his shoulder, which, when he got home, Mirco would have to hide from his wife, until they healed.
But I could care less about any inconvenience I’d caused him, or any potential danger I’d caused to his marriage. Maddened by lust, all I gave a damn about was the fact that I was coming. At last!
My asshole spasmed furiously. My balls emptied themselves through my spitting dick. A moment later, Mirco started to come, too. I felt his big dick rear back and lunge into me once again, and then it quivered and it started to shoot its hot juice deep into my ass. The semen gushed into me like it had been shot from one of those water cannons which kids played with on hot summer days! I felt wide open, as though I was taking his bursts of cum right up in my guts and even beyond! I almost expected that jism to flow up into my esophagus from below and fill my mouth, choking me!
He just lay on top of me for several minutes after he’d stopped shooting, panting to get his breath back. Then, lifting his head, he grinned down at me and said, “Wow! This has been the best sex I’ve had with anybody, in a long time! When you country boys get friendly, you really get friendly, don’t you?”
“I can’t vouch for all the good old boys hereabouts,” I gasped. “But I sure as hell am a firm believer in complete customer service!”
“Yeah,” Mirco said, his grin broadening. “With the emphasis on firm!”
As he spoke, he grabbed my cock, and he began to squeeze and stroke it. I couldn’t believe it. My horny john wasn’t done with me yet! He still wanted more!
An hour later, reluctantly, we showered, got dressed, and walked over to the diner.
Mirco not only gave me the hundred dollars he’d promised me, in the form of a crisp new C-note—he added a twenty as a tip. And he insisted on paying for my breakfast! He really was a generous man, in addition to being a very sexy one.
“I’ll be coming through this way quite often, from now on,” he told me. “I’d like to see you, each time. From now on, I’ll call the motel ahead of time, to reserve a room. And I’ll call you, too, to let you know when I’m coming.”
“Great. That way, I can arrange to have my night off then.”
“Can we go check out the roadhouse, next time?”
“Absolutely. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
He grinned at me. “Take me anywhere you want, as long as we end up back in a bed together, and I can have you, all night long.”
“Trust me, that can be arranged,” I promised him.
Back at the motel, Mirco checked out, said goodbye to me, and drove off. I was sorry to see him leave. My married Swedish-American stud had shown me one hell of a good time, and, better yet, he’d put money in my pocket. If only all the men who checked into the motel were like him!
But Mirco was as good as his word. He did return to our area, frequently, and every time he let me know he was coming ahead of time, so we could get together. And during each and every one of these reunions, the two of us sucked and fucked like animals, wearing each other out. And, of course, I got paid for my labors.
Meanwhile, though, I was on my own. I was a single gay guy (albeit a closeted one), who was accountable to nobody. And there was nothing wrong with my sex drive. I was up for anybody and anything!
Predictably, it wasn’t long before I found myself misbehaving again.
I guess I was just born bad, with a propensity for vice!
Chapter Four: A Trucker’s Load
A few days later, I’d been working an afternoon and early evening shift in the motel’s office. By the time I was done, it was getting toward suppertime, and I decided I felt too lazy to go home and cook for myself. I’d have my meal at the diner, and then I’d head to the farmhouse.
It was a warm night. The gas station an
d truck stop complex was busy, with several big rigs parked in its lot or being serviced at the pumps. For some reason, I lingered on the sidewalk outside the diner, looking across and observing the action next door. There was a bench outside the diner’s entrance, and, on impulse, I parked my ass on it while I continued to watch the truckdrivers coming and going.
One rig stood out because it had a rather elegant-looking streamlined cab. After getting gas, the driver moved the truck to a parking space, and got out again.
He was a stocky guy, long-haired, bearded, with a hint of a beer belly, wearing a baseball cap on his head. Even at a distance, I thought he looked hot.
Like a lot of truckdrivers who patronized both the gas station and the diner, he didn’t bother to move his rig from one establishment’s parking lot to the other. Instead, leaving his truck where it was, he strolled toward where I was seated on the bench.
“Hi,” he greeted me.
“Hi,” I responded.
“I haven’t been through here before. I was told the food in this place is pretty good, though.”
“It is.” I thought I really ought to be compensated by the folks who owned and ran the diner, for all the recommendations I was handing out! “I was about to go in and grab a bite, myself.”
“Then I’ll give it a try. You waiting for somebody?”
“No, I’m alone.”
“Why don’t you join me? I get tired of eating alone when I’m on the road.”
“We can share a booth, yeah, why not?” I agreed.
Soon we were sitting opposite each other in a booth, with menus in front of us.
“I’m Clint,” the trucker volunteered.
“Jason.”
We shook hands over the table top.
“You live here, I assume?” Clint asked.
“Yeah. Grew up here, as a matter of fact. Don’t get to see as much of the world as you do.”
He grunted. “About all I see of it—when I’m working—is the highway, and places on the exits, like this one.”
Highway Hustle Page 5