Hey guys, so sorry about the massive delay in getting this out - real life got the better of me. Had to break this up due to word limit also. Hope you enjoy!
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It was early afternoon now and already the oppressive July temperatures had taken ahold of the tiny rest stop, making it feel as muggy as a sauna. Sunlight filtered weakly through the murky windows, illuminating the motes of dust drifting lazily through the stifling air. A leaking faucet dripped steadily, accompanied only by the occasional gurgle of the pipes below. Everything felt still - trapped by the heat.
The silence was broken as the front door swung open and a man hurried towards a urinal, cursing as he undid his belt. He groaned in relief as his cock flopped out and he started pissing, swiping his free hand across his forehead to catch the sweat that had already started beading up the moment he entered the bathroom. After he was done, he went over to wash his hands, and it was there that he caught sight of a pair of feet behind him in the mirror.
Whoever was inside the cubicle looked like theyād had some kind of accident - he could see a pair of expensive-looking white sneakers covered in brown and red streaks - and the way they were sitting, legs splayed, gave him pause. He rapped on the door, asking, āHey man, yāalright in there?ā When there was no answer, he knocked again once, twice.
Still nothing.
āWelp bud, I warned ya. Iām cominā in now - .ā He tried pulling on the door and, to his surprise, it was unlocked.
The sight that greeted him as the stall opened was a complete shock. For starters, the kid looked college-aged, a stark contrast to the usual crowd of old truckers, long-haul drivers, and occasional homeless that frequented this stop. He was built like a real stud, too - beefy and muscular, tan, kitted out in nice-looking sportswear, albeit stained. He looked like the kind of guy his coworkersā nieces were obsessed with, to their chagrin - something about some sort of social media app where these prettyboys would dance with no shirts on and make money doing it, crazy as it sounded.
What was shocking was the state the guy was in - specifically, the state of his ass. Rivulets of cum and what looked like blood and liquid shit spilled out of an angry, gaping hole. The thing stretched and contracted but could never fully close; he could see the boyās insides, a coiled red tunnel of flesh that winked back at him through the mess of fluids his entrance was coated with.
Someone had taken a marker and added a list of tallies to his abdominals as well - from what he counted, there were twenty-three hatches. Twenty-three anonymous loads - his own ass hurt to imagine it. It couldnāt have been too pleasant.
His nipples were raw and swollen, with teeth marks showing where someone had been gnawing on them. Hickies bloomed across his broad neck, a lurid tapestry in various shades of brown, blue, and purple testifying to the past nightās events. His wrists had been zip-tied to the back of the toilet as well - he could see red imprints along the guyās arms where heād no doubt struggled to break free of his restraints, whether that had been from agony or ecstasy.
āChristā¦ā John, the trucker, muttered as he reached into his pocket for his switchblade. Carefully, he cut the zip ties off and reached under the boyās pits, grunting as he pulled him off he toilet seat into a standing position. Sheesh, the guy was heavy - and in no position to stand, as he slumped limply into Johnās chest the moment he was on his feet.
āShit - hey, bud, you with me?ā He gave the kid a gentle shake, brushing aside the matted curls to feel his forehead for a temperature. āYou sick or anything? Gimme a sign - can ya hear what Iām sayinā?ā
Slowly, the kidās eyes fluttered open. āMmghā¦what timeā¦ā
āāS āround 12 at noon,ā John replied, still carefully cradling him to make sure he didnāt keel over. āLooks like ya had a hell of a night. You doinā ok? Need me to call someone? Your parents, maybe?ā
āMmmā¦Iām fine, just lemme get myā¦fuckinā pants onā¦ā
āNow I donāt know exactly what happened, but I donāt see any clothes lyinā around. Iād guess whoever you, uh, met mustāve takenā em.ā
As he saw the boyās eyes widen in panic, he pressed a reassuring hand to his back, rubbing it in soothing circles. āDonāt worry - I keep a few spare changes of clothes in my truck just in case. Might be a bit big for ya - then again, seeinā how you look like a sportinā kinda guy, maybe not - and I can hop out real quick and bring them back for ya to change into. Got some wet wipes too, if you wanna, ah, clean yourself up a bit. No offense.ā John gave him a kind smile. āYou look a little rough right now.ā
The boy flushed, glancing down at himself and, realizing now that he was basically nude and in the arms of a stranger, ducked his head in embarrassment. It was a pitiable sight, and John couldnāt help himself as he hugged the boy a little closer - almost on instinct - and patted his back.
āI aināt gonna judge, yāknow. Just wanna make sure you get taken care of is all. Nameās John, by the way. What can I call you?ā
āBryce,ā the boy murmured. āIām, uh, Iām fine, by the way. You donāt have to go to all this trouble.ā
āAināt much trouble for me - and you looked like you could use the help.ā
He pushed Bryce off of him softly, bracing the boy as he struggled to stand straight. āYou think you can hold out here while I run to my truck and grab my things? Stopās pretty deserted this time of day, but I donāt wanna have to make ya walk out there like this if ya donāt want to.ā
Bryce shook his head. āCanā¦can I come with you? I donāt wanna be stuck here.ā
John gave him a critical look. āYouāve got my word I aināt gonna leave ya here in the buff. Sure you donāt want to rest your legs a bit? Wonāt take long at all.ā
āI, umā¦ā Bryce glanced down, shyly. āIād rather go with you. If itās cool.ā
āAll good, kid. Here, lemme give ya my shirt - at least youāll be a little bit covered that wayā¦ā
Unbuttoning his work flannel, John draped it over Bryceās shoulders, helping him work his arms into the sleeves - they were a surprisingly similar fit, but for different reasons - and letting him wrap an arm over his shoulder for support as they walked out of the rest stop. The sunlight felt blinding, but the fresh air was a welcome reprieve from the stench and humidity of the bathroom. Together, they made their way to Johnās long-haul, parked several spots over from Bryceās own car, and John helped the boy up the stairs inside to his bed just behind the driverās cabin. Once inside, John threw out a towel and set it on the edge of his mattress for Bryce to rest while he grabbed his kit from an overhead storage unit, pulling out his spare clothes and a few other items - wet wipes, bandaids, alcohol spray.
āLie down a bit, and Iāll clean ya up.ā
Bryce complied easily. John decided to go from top to bottom, tenderly cleaning off the sweat and filth that had accumulated. With every pass, the jock seemed to glow brighter in the dim lighting of the truckās bedroom, the grime falling away to reveal swathes of healthy, radiant sun-kissed skin that felt soft as silk. Unconsciously, Johnās touch found more moments to linger - in the dip of the jockās clavicle, across the swell of his traps, dancing close to those plush cherry-red lips. There was something absolutely magnetic about the boy, something intoxicating - he was being drawn in before he even knew it.
He made no comment as he scrubbed away the tally marks across Bryceās stomach - and if the jock was aware, he didnāt respond either - but he had to draw in a sharp intake of breath when he finally got to the boyās asshole. Seeing it a second time was no less shocking. Some of the puffiness had thankfully subsided, but the whole area still looked angry.
āYou really took a beating, huh?ā
No answer. Bryce had moved to lying on his stomach now while John pried his asscheeks apart to assess the damage, and his face was turned away, but he could catch the telltale flush of shame cross the back of the boyās neck at that comment. Johnās hand moved of its own accord, pressing into the small of Bryceās back, rubbing gentle circles of encouragement.
āTold ya, Iām not here to judge. Iām here to help. Gonna clean ya first, and I canāt promise it wonāt hurt, but bear with me for a little. Got some hemorrhoid cream too, that might help, and some aloe vera ointment as wellā¦ā
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At some point, Bryce had dozed off without realizing.
What woke him was a strange feeling of fullness - he couldnāt quite put his finger on it, but it felt familiar. Blearily, he raised his head, trying to get a sense of his surroundings - mattress, dark metal walls, dim overhead lighting - and remembered the trucker whoād helped him into his rig. John, maybe?
As his eyes focused, he squinted and saw John in front of him. The trucker was panting furiously, his tank top pulled over his neck exposing his chest and rounded beer gut which were covered in a mat of wiry salt-and-pepper hairs. His hands were gripping Bryceās waist, his skin flushed and sweaty as he - very diligently - thrust his cock in and out of his hole.
Their eyes locked and John flashed him a cheerful grin, seemingly oblivious to the shock that registered across Bryceās face. āHey champ, looks like youāre feelinā better huh?
āHope ya donāt mind - you were just so damn cute lookinā while I was cleaninā ya up, I just had to get a little taste for myself, yāknow? Figure itās payment for me finding ya and takinā care of ya, anyhow.ā
He gave Bryceās nipples a tweak, earning a low moan from the jock. āThought youād like that,ā John chuckled. āWhatever you got up to last night, looks like those fellas had a lot of fun with those nips of yours. Had my eye on them too, but itās a helluva lot more fun to do this kinda thing when youāre awake.ā
Still thrusting leisurely, John dipped his head to suckle on each of Bryceās nips. The effect was immediate - the jock writhed on the mattress, bucking his hips as his cock started to swell again.
āJee-sus, youāre one hot fuckinā stud, yāknow that? Gonna make me nut if you keep actinā up. Here, play with those titties - ā He grabbed Bryceās hands and maneuvered them to his chest ā - and Iām gonna pick up the pace again. Gonna cream that pussy real good.ā
In a daze, Bryce began to pinch and knead at his pecs while John, grunting, got back to work pounding his hole. It felt so natural somehow - waking up after being helped into some strangerās vehicle, still fresh off an unconscious series of fucking, only to find himself being fucked, once again, by some older man. Shit, he could still feel how tender his hole was, but the slight sting did nothing to lessen the instant arousal that coursed through him at being used like this.
Was this what he was now? The kind of dude who got off on being treated like a piece of meat, a live fucktoy? Did one night really change things that much?
His head was all jumbled, embarrassment and want and anxiety all coming together in one big mess. He should tell the trucker to stop this, the rational part of him whispered. This was the kind of shit he could report to the cops, get this fucker locked up -
-but a deeper, more perverse voice didnāt want it to stop at all. He could make out every detail of the truckerās face and body as he felt himself being opened up again, that sweet spot buried deep in his asshole begging to be railed.
āShit, boy, canāt believe youāre still this tight,ā John groaned. āFeels betterān my ex-wifeās pussy when we first met. Glad you aināt a girl though; if I had my way with you, Iād have gotten you pregnant ten times over by nowā¦ā
The lewd praise, the unmistakable lust in Johnās eyes as he watched him play with his nips in between pumps, the smell of the cabin quickly growing thick with musk and sweat - it was sending Bryceās pleasure receptors into overdrive. He hadnāt even touched his dick yet, and it was still standing erect, bouncing against his abs with each thrust from the trucker, balls back to full and churning with another load of jizz just waiting to be shot out.
āYou close, babygirl?ā the trucker panted. āFuck, donāt know how long I can hold on - gonna blow soon. Gonna paint that hole white. You want me to fill you up, sweetheart?ā
All Bryce could do, lost in the bliss of this moment, was make a dumb, guttural noise as he felt Johnās cock start battering his prostate. A dollop of precum squirted from his dick, leaving a slimy trail across his stomach. John, taking that as encouragement, sped up even more, the steady plap-plap-plap of his belly colliding against the jockās beefy ass ticking down the seconds until the inevitable climax.
āOh fuck, itās cominā now - fuck yeah, boy, take my dick, take it all the way inside just like that⦠fucckkkk, Iām gonna cum - !ā
One final collision against his g-spot, and Bryceās eyes rolled back as his cock started squirting: fat, healthy globs of cum that streaked across his abs, against Johnās stomach and chest, catching and tangling in his body hair. At the same time, John gave one last grunt, his whole body stiffening and then shuddering as a weekās worth of accumulated semen shot from his cock and flooded the boyās hole. When heād gotten every last drop out, the trucker collapsed against him, their sweat-slicked bodies melding together on the sheets, Bryce still too exhausted to push John away.
Trying to catch his breath, Bryce couldnāt help the tiny gasp that left his mouth as John stirred and his cock slipped out of his ass, sending his cum spilling out against his thighs. He could finally feel himself becoming lucid in the wake of this last orgasm; it felt like heād had no time to think at all, from the moment he stepped into the rest stop to now, just after being fucked and bred by another stranger. The stickiness of the sweat and cum coating his skin were a shameful reminder of what heād allowed himself to go through - the Bryce of before wouldāve never gotten into a situation like this, but nowā¦
He tilted his head to look at John, whoād already passed out and started snoring. Then he looked down at himself - at his seed, splattered across his torso, at his still softening boner - and winced. What the fuck was going on?