If you're a minor, destroy this file.
SWEATY PUMP ATTENDANT
Normally, I rather enjoy driving the roads of North Georgia. But, today, I was in a hurry. And, more importantly, I was very low on gas.
I had not seen a gas station for miles, and I was becoming anxious about breaking-down in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Then, almost by magic, I came across this rundown place with a faded gas sign whose logo I didn't recognize. There are lots of old gas stations like that in Georgia. And they're almost always defunct. So, I didn't rate my chances that high of being able to fill up.
Anyway, it was worth a shot. So, I stopped. The place was deserted and the front door locked. Not looking good. And there was no answer when I shouted, "Anyone home?" Predictable, I guess. So, I headed back towards the car. And then I suddenly felt the urge to take a leak. Now, pissing on the side of the road is just fine in this part of the country. But, seeing a restroom, I thought what-the-hell-I'll-be-respectable-for-once and headed over.
I stepped inside and, boy, did it stink. Piss and shit fermented on high heat on a hot Georgia day. Floor wet with the usual public-bathroom sewage. Grimy urinal and a minimal screen hiding the crapper. You get the picture.
But, I was not alone. Someone was taking a crap. Dirty sneakers, pulled-down Levis, and off-white underwear were planted in front of the toilet bowl. Christ, I thought, who'd wanna take a shit in here?
Anyways, I went about my business, pulled out my best friend and started hosing down the oily black grime in the urinal, my eyes focussing on the pile of cigarette butts blocking the drain. I casually wondered whether it would overflow. But, given the state of this place, who would give a shit anyway?
The guy in the john seemed oblivious to my presence. Normally, there would be a slight tension in the air, with two guys alone together, no more than a foot apart, one having his pants down, with little privacy. But, this guy carried on dumping away regardless. I could hear the turds fall from his butt and splash in the bowl. He even farted a couple of times. He certainly seemed more relaxed than I would have been in his situation.
As I was zipping up, he suddenly spoke.
"Hey dude, can you pass me the roll?"
Now, this has happened to me before a few times. And I never cease to be amazed at how many guys go into the john, drop their pants, shit away, only to discover, when the deed's done, that there's no paper. Isn't that the FIRST thing to check out before you drop your drawers?
The one-and-only source of paper was the roll by the sink. Covered in water splotches, it wasn't going to be ideal. But, he would have to make do.
A little self-consciously, I grabbed the roll and walked around the partition to hand it to him. And there he was sitting on the can, legs spread wide, hiding nothing.
I'd put him at about nineteen, good-looking, dark-haired, hairier than average, and a pretty-reasonable dong pointing down at the bowl. Good bush of dark pubic hair. I could feel an instant boner coming on.
I tried to look him in the eyes as I handed him the roll, affecting an air of indifference as if I did this every day. But, I must have revealed some of my interest in him, as I simply couldn't stop myself from taking in the view of this stud teen (adult?) with everything on show. I wanted to eat him on the spot.
Call me a pervert if you wish, but, for me, there is no hotter sight than a good man on the can. Don't know why, but it just gets my sperm juices going.
So, you'll understand me when I tell you that I was relishing every nanosecond of my interaction with this dude.
I was especially turned on by my all-too-momentary glance at his underwear. His briefs were no ad for the clean-cut all-American man. Incredibly off-white and at least a couple of skidmarks. Who knows how many piss stains were merrily festering away, out of my sight? I would pay dearly for a pair of stud-stink briefs in that condition. Just imagine the intense jackoff sessions that would be possible.
I was pretty sure that he picked up on my interest in him. But, he gave no hint of annoyance. He just said, "Thanks man," and began to stand up. Instantly realizing that he was going into wipe-butt mode, I immediately withdrew. But, I couldn't just leave! I needed some time to think.
So, I lingered by the sink, rinsing my hands of non-existent piss.
I was still shaking off my hands when he emerged. He'd taken no longer than ten seconds to clean himself and he was done. We briefly nodded at each other, and he was out of there.
I knew that he was expecting me outside momentarily, but I just had to take a quick peek at the can. I touched the seat where his ass had sat. Still warm. I lowered my nose to sniff the seat, resisting the urge to lick it. It brought me in eye contact with a small turd floating in the bowl. A part of me wanted to lift it out and give it a good sniff, but I fought that temptation, realizing that he would suspect something if I didn't emerge post haste. So, I too made my way out.
He was standing by my car, pump in hand, obviously waiting on instructions. God, he looked even better in the bright sunshine. I sauntered over, taking in every detail of his body. He had a solid, muscular wrestler's build, with the cutest round butt that I had seen in a good long while. His skin-tight Levis showed perfect thighs and calves, while his dirty T-shirt gave the outline of solid pecs that no doubt led down to a zero-fat stomach. In short, he had the idealized persona of the supremely confident athlete who feels he has nothing to prove to anyone. True wet-dream material.
Reaching him, I said, "Yeah, go ahead and fill her up."
I realized that I would have to make some kind of move soon or it would all be over before it began. I pegged him as basically straight, but probably sufficiently open to having his cocked sucked if he was horny and there would be no repercussions.
"You alone here?" I asked.
"Yep, my uncle's gone for the week. I'm minding the store while he's away."
"Must be kinda lonesome," I added.
"That's for sure," he said, glancing quizzically in my direction. I was sure he realized something strange was going on between the two of us, and that he, not I, had the power over the situation.
I just couldn't keep my eyes off this vibrant buck. Looking back, I can only assume that it was my overtly rapt attention to his every movement that finally gave him the balls to blurt out, "So, are you one of those 'gay' guys," emphasizing the word 'gay' as if it were only minutely different from 'faggot'.
Instant-judgement time, I said to myself. Go on the offensive, I decided. After all, he's by himself. How bad could it get?
"You bet. Got a problem with that?"
I thought, the ball's back in your court, you arrogant, homophobic, country-hick jock. But, he recovered quickly.
"Yeah, well we don't get many of your type around these parts."
As I was not exactly in the mood for a lengthy, political discourse on the virtues of diversity, I feigned boredom and countered with a simple question.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah....
....So are you horny?"
"Whaddya mean? Dick-suckin' and shit like that?"
"What I mean is: I can give you the blow-job of your life. Better than anything a woman could ever give you, that is if, in this God-fearing county, they would ever agree to give you one in the first place. And no one, absolutely fucking no one, will ever know. What about it?"
For the first time during our encounter, he looked uncomfortable, sizing up the situation and his own inner needs.
I gave him a moment, looking directly into his eyes, trying desperately to communicate trust.
After what seemed an eternity, but was probably no more than fifteen seconds, he said.
"Okay...you can suck my dick...but I ain't no fag. I sure as hell ain't gonna do anything to you."
I gave the usual inane assurances, and he led me inside the building, to an "office" at the back. The most difficult part of the mission had been accomplished. Now, it was on to execution.
Despite the greater intimacy of the new setting, I decided against asking his name. I figured the more anonymous I keep this, the more likely it is that everything will go off without a hitch.
"Lean against the desk," I ordered soothingly and I got down on my knees so that my face was inches away from his crotch.
"Relax."
And slowly, but confidently, I undid the waistbutton and zipper of his Levis, pulling them down to his knees. Immediately, my nostrils filled with his crotch odor. I was getting ready for takeoff.
His briefs were, by anyone's standards, pretty filthy. Piss blotches seemed to cover the whole of the fly. I made a mental note that, by hook or by crook, I would get those briefs. I hauled them down to join the pants at his knees.
And now his crotch odor really hit me, with the pungency of ammonia. But, this was pure studstink, the best smell in the whole, wide world. I inhaled deeply through my nose.
He may have had a few misgivings about the whole thing, but he was already half-hard. I took his dick in my mouth and started sucking him, fondling his hairy balls with my hand.
"Ahhhhhhh...." he sighed, exhaling with the passion of a guy whose horniness has been simmering for too long.
He placed his hand on the back of my head to encourage the motion. His semi-hardness didn't last long, but while it did, I had the wonderful experience of burying my nose in his pubic hair with each down-suck.
After just two short minutes, the pace of his hand on the back of my head started increasing and I knew he was fixing to drop his load. No way was I going to let that happen so soon.
So, I withdrew from his cock and looked up. He looked down, his expression querying me as to why I had stopped.
"You know, you'll enjoy this a whole lot more if you lose the pants."
Wordlessly, he bent over and removed his Levis and underwear, struggling only briefly to get them over his sneakers.
Just as wordlessly, I resumed my sucking. For a while, I continued fondling his balls. But, as always, I wanted more.
Spreading his legs further, my hand crept up behind his balls and made its way up to his butt. My index finger gently massaged his sphincter muscle.
"Ooooh....yeah......," he murmured.
And then I stopped again.
"Whassup?" he demanded to know.
"I wanna suck your butthole," I replied.
"What??!!" he exclaimed.
"I want to suck your shithole," I affirmed.
"But...But, that's disgusting," he spluttered.
"Look, you'll enjoy it. I haven't been wrong so far, have I?" I asserted.
And then, suddenly, his expression became sheepish. With an embarrassed stutter, he whispered, "But, I'm real dirty back there."
I was completely prepared for this. After all, I'd seen the skidmarks earlier. I had a very good idea of what lay "back there". So I countered, "Let me worry about that. You just focus on enjoying the hell out of this."
I tapped him firmly on the thigh and, like an obedient child, he turned around.
"Lean forward over the desk," I commanded, and he instantly complied.
And there it was. His butt in its full glory. No more than six inches from my face.
Two muscular mounds of high school, wrestler butt, divided by a crack endowed with wispy, dark asshairs. Boy, was I going to enjoy this.
Fumbling urgently with my zip and shorts, I finally managed to pull out my rock-hard boner and started slowly jacking off. Any faster and I knew I would cum. Just the sight was enough to engender unaided orgasm. Calm down, I told myself. Make this last.
I spread his buns and pressed my face forward. Jeez, what a stink! With his uncle away, this guy had obviously slobbed out, and hadn't showered or anything in at least several days. I was smelling the funky, festering remains of a good number of craps. With any other guy, I swear, I would have thrown up on the spot. But, I was completely fixated on the stench emanating from his hole.
I ran my nose up his asscrack, collecting gooey shit-mucus along the way. And then I pressed my nose directly in his hole, pulling his thighs toward me to seal the bond between his ass and my face. My tongue lapped at the rank crotchsweat behind his balls. I reached my hand forward and encircled his dick. Hard as steel. This guy was really getting off on his first-ever ass-play.
For the briefest time, I came up for air. And then I returned to his ass, thrusting my tongue deeply into his stinking butthole. I frenched with a passion I had never experienced before (nor since). He squirmed, forcing my tongue in further. Both us grunted and groaned like pigs in heat. Animals consumed by savage lust.
Neither of us would last much longer.
I violently swung him around and took the whole of his length in one motion. I was gagging frantically, the pressure threatening to blow the snot out of my nose. He mercilessly thrashed my head backwards and forwards into his crotch. I offered not the least resistance to his brutal rape my mouth. And then he started cumming, in spasm after spasm of salty, warm jock sperm. I swallowed for dear life, but it was too much, as rivulets of spunk-slime ran out of my mouth, down my chin and onto the floor.
My balls tightened like a vice and, arching my back, I felt lightning electrify my whole body, as load after load of cum shot out of my cock.
Manstink pervaded the air as we gave ourselves, without reservation, to the primal ecstasy and lust of the moment.
And then it was over. I sagged on my knees, as he collapsed, semi-comatose, backward on the desk. Completely drained, both of us experienced the post-orgasmic, emptiness-of-thought that connects you directly with joy of living.
I recovered first, and started turning my mind to how I could extricate myself from the situation with the least risk of unpleasantness. These incidents have a way a way of bringing out the worst in some straight guys.
But, as it turned out, I need not have worried.
As I was stuffing my dick back into my pants, ogling this stud with his naked legs dangling over the side of the desk, his cock still dripping cum, he half-opened his eyes and murmured, "That was awesome, man."
"Glad to be of service. I enjoyed it a lot. But, now, I gotta make a move. I'm running way late."
"Sure, man. Thanks," he muttered before returning to his coma.
"I do, however, have one favor to ask."
"Yeah...whassat?" he whispered in his half-sleep.
"I'd like to buy your briefs."
For a moment, he opened his eyes, and exclaimed, "What, you mean those skanky things?"
"Exactly. Those skanky things," I affirmed.
He looked down at his briefs crumpled on the floor, and then back at me, and lazily responded, "Man, there yours. Take 'em. It was worth it," a slight grin on his face.
I reached down, grabbed the treasure, and announced, "Well, I'm outta here."
He looked up at me for the last time and said, "Y'all come back."
"Sure thing."
And I was gone.
Postscript:
Well, I did go back there a few weeks later. But, his uncle told me that Jason, his nephew, had moved out West to live with his divorced mother. So, I never did see him again.
But, to this day, I jack off regularly with his dirty briefs over my face. The crotchstink has long since dissipated, but I'm still able to extract some juice from his piss stains and skidmarks.
A month rarely goes by without me casting my mind back to my experience with Jason. It was a pivotal point in my life. From then on, I gave myself to sex with wild abandon, holding back nothing. My lust staggers my partners, and I enjoy explaining to them the role of Jason in my sexual coming of age. Believe me, many others, aside from myself, have appreciated the erotic pleasure of those briefs.
Peace.