3 comments/ 42303 views/ 5 favorites Dirty Filthy Hand Jobs in British Truck Stop Restrooms By: cowboy109 PART I The large truck window reached almost down to his knees. The figure of a hand carved wooden gnome in a red hat lay on the dashboard, a souvenir trinket. The smooth surface was blotched with dirt stains. A cleaning rag next to it had reached the critical point of containing more dirt than it was willing to absorb. A few paper wrappers lay on the passenger side floor, trampled with black footprints. A short string of almost black wooden beads swung in a restrained way with the turns of the road through the forest. A previous driver, long since fired and forgotten, had left it there. Nobody had bothered to remove it. The road was black from the recent rain and the low light of dusk. Liam put the roaring engine into next gear. Liam had the stature of a boxer with all the muscle melted into fat and oozed downward. He sported a pot belly and big thighs that he put into workout pants to comfortably sit for hours in his truck. His head was shaved and his full beard trimmed at a half an inch for comfort. A black wool beanie that he had picked up for 5 pounds at a discount store always covered his head. There was no reason to wear it in the heated cabin, but he wore it out of habit and because it was easier than finding it again before getting out at rest stops. He picked up the CB radio and held it to his mouth.. "Bear trap shooting you in the back on A51 at Hurleston. This is Giant Robot. Back out." [Bear trap is a radar trap.] Crackling static followed the announcement. Liam's face grew focused as he listened. "10-4. This is Tinder Can. Good to hear you Giant Robot. Those are baby bears. They have been there all day. How's your better half?" [10-4 means okay. Baby bears are rookie cops.] "Tinder Can, you still pushing dispatcher brains? My better half kicked the can a year ago. The sugar killed her." [dispatcher brains means to drive a very light or empty trailer.] "Sorry to hear, Giant Robot. Gotta watch the road now. I have a bumper sticker." [bumper sticker is a car following very closely.] Liam pulled into the long diagonal painted parking spots for trucks. The parking lot was dark with distant lights reflecting on the wet street. White and red dots moved on the floor, reflections of passing cars on the road. The bright blue and white sign of the truck stop signaled the direction for him. He jumped out of his truck cabin, exhaling mist in the cool air, and waddled with a wide stance and toes pointing out toward the entrance door. A cool interior with halogen lights welcomed him indifferently, as if the building saw another customer and shrugged. The sole window was shuttered with a metal blind. The floor, walls, and ceilings were covered with bluish gray tiles that had dingy white lines in between them. That way the cleaning was easier. The tables had a central pole that was bolted in place with a plastic top. The plastic top had a round edge and roughened up surface so that the food trays would not slide. The only customers were two truckers at a table and a woman at the counter. One of the truckers was a young bloke in sweat pants with a zippered sweatshirt that had a sleek material and soccer insignia. His legs were splayed wide and faced the center of the room. The other guy wore a heavy leather jacket and blue utilitarian postman trousers. He sat leaning forward deeply focused on stirring a white cup with black liquid. The metal counter ran along the side of the whole restaurant. The metal was shiny and reflective. The barstools were simple floor bolted poles with round brown upholstery. Behind the metal counter was the kitchen. A young chef with black hair and white apron hit a cutting board with a hatchet in a rough and random fashion. A waitress with a striped waitress dress and apron had a face as worn as the streets of the Scottish highlands. Her hair was blond and long, without conditioner, styling or decent hair cut. The wide cheeks of the waitress flapped down when she opened her mouth and knocked on the counter. "Welcome, honey! Can I get you started on a coffee?" "Na, just give me a scampi and a beer. The Norway lobster here is the dog's bollocks." The waitress yelled with her head tilted back, "Hey Ethan, somebody likes your food here." Liam stole a sideway glance down the counter. The only other counter guest was a thirty year old red head. Her long, smooth hair hung down to the bottom of her shoulder blade in a sad sag. Her thin leather jacket hung like a long slender sack on her. Her pants were of a dull tone. On her back was a large red leather bag. The fabric of the bag was loose and collected as a sag beneath the handles. Her face was pale and without luster. She silently scribbled onto a torn off piece of paper. A finished, dirty plate was in front of her. "Mister! How much further is it to Nantwich?" "Oh, it's about another half hour. Do you come here often?" "Do I look like it?" "No, no, I did not mean to insult you." "Good. I am passing through to Nantwich. Have you been trucker for a long time?" "Yeah, I have been trucking all my life. You don't have to deal with people that way." They fell into silence. Liam's scampi arrived. His fork poked through the breaded Norway lobster and potato slices. His mind was absorbed with soccer and beer. When he was nearly done, the woman had come within two seats of him dragging her purse behind her from one seat to the next. "What's your name mister?" "I am Liam." "My name is Charlotte. It is a pleasure to meet you." "Are you friendly or are you selling life insurance. 'cause my wife just died. I sure don't need any." "Actually, I have a proposition." Liam sat up more straight and raised some of the fat of his belly that had been collecting into a ball from his hunched over seating position. "For fifty pounds..." Charlotte cleared her head and firmed her face. "For fifty pounds, I will give you a hand job, right here in the bathroom. You don't have to be an arse about it. Just says yes or no." "Fifty pounds," repeated Liam slowly. Charlotte looked a bit like a heroine addict. However, she did not have the dark eye circles. Maybe she was simply destitute. She definitely was not a looker. On the other hand, his wife had died a year ago. And even then she was never very gorgeous. Liam mentally counted his money. He had about 70 pounds left. "Right here," repeated Liam. Charlotte placed her long, slender, pale hands on his big arms under the baggy sweater. "You look kind of sexy with that black beanie." "Ha, you are the first one to notice. You ain't got a rough chap waiting for me in that loo?" Charlotte lifted two fingers into the air. The red nail polish was starkly colorful in this environment. Her other hand reached through the neck opening under her clothes to touch her heart. "I swear that I am here by myself. And, for fifty pounds, we could be together." "Okay." Liam slid his big butt off the bar stool and threw a twenty pound bill onto the counter with his meaty, hairy hand. Charlotte got onto her gray high heels and slipped a cigarette out of the inside pocket in one smooth move. They were both the same height. She was a third of his circumference as she walked in front of him. The waitress leaned over the counter to see them move to the back and then continued with her job. A short black hallway down was the door to the men's restroom. Charlotte opened the door and stormed in. In the middle of the restroom, she stopped to look around. Her stance was unsure and nervous on her tall towering legs and high heels. Her puffs on the cigarette were quick and abrupt. The restroom had a single functioning light left. The walls and stalls were littered by black marker graffiti, mostly scribbles and rudimentary drawings. The floor was littered with hand towels, food wrappers, and general garbage that had been pounded flat by the foot traffic. One of the two stalls had a broken door that rested next to the open toilet bowl. Charlotte pushed open the other stall with her hand outreached. The stall was small. She wrapped six turns of toilet paper around her hand. Then, she circled the toilet paper over the seat to scrape away the dried pee and grime. Deep knife cuts made to graffiti had collected black dirt. The one month old dark yellow pee stains did not come off. Charlotte kept her body and limbs close together while doing the precise work. She was tense and nervous. "Here, have a seat." "You don't want the money first?" "No, pay after." Liam stepped into the stall, pulled his pants to his ankles, and sat down. He did not mind the filthy toilet seat. He had been a trucker his whole life. And, even if the woman was ugly and desolate, she was feminine deep underneath. At least, she was the closest thing for him for a connection to the feminine life force. The stall was narrow and small. Charlotte had to carefully pitch herself between the toilet bowl and his legs to be able to close the door. She kept her handbag over her shoulder and squatted down. Her knees were neatly together and pointed more toward the front of the stall. She had to turn her torso sideways to face his groin. Her right hand grabbed his almost completely erect penis with ginger hands. Her palms felt cool from the nervousness. "So, you are uncircumcised?" Liam leaned back and half closed his eyes to feel his cock more vividly. "Yes, ma'am." Her fist started pummeling his penis. She looked on cold, while he melted deeper into joy and relaxation. Every once in a while, she pulled on her cigarette without pausing her pumping. After five minutes, her leg started tingling. Because the space was so tight, she had to steady herself by holding his knee, so that she could shift her weight. She also switched her hand and shook her tired hand. Liam looked down at her. "Could you kiss it?" "No." "Well, you are doing great." A minute later a man shuffled into the room to unleash a hissing piss into the urinal next to the stall. "Oh, we are caught," whispered Liam. "C'mon," yelled Charlotte, "what is he going to do? He'll be out in a minute." The outside man continued his bathroom business pretending not to hear the meat getting spanked. Liam's penis started pulsing more frequently now. Charlotte pulled a long wad of toilet paper off the roll and held it ready for the sperm to spew. Ten seconds later, Liam moaned. She squeezed the penis with all her strength. He silently thanked her for it. She wiped the rest of the cum from his penis like a mother clears boogers out of a child's nose. She did the same shuffle between his knees and the toilet bowl to open the door. She stood in front of the mirror to prepare herself for the outside world. Liam was sprawled out on the filthy toilet. He mentally suited up for the real world again and collected his sweatpants over his ass. He stepped next to her at the mirror. "To let you know, the faucet is broken and the paper towels are out. Your dick scent will be on my hand for the rest of the day. Just thought you'd love to know that. And feel free to tip, if you liked the performance." Liam got the fifty note out of his worn leather wallet. "Sorry, that's all I got. You were lovely." Charlotte left the room. He looked at himself in the mirror in between the graffiti scribble. His beanie did make him look a bit dapper. It could have been worn by a spy on a barge in a movie. He stepped out into the rainy night. He found her shivering under the entrance roof. "You look mighty cold. How did you get here? You aren't a truck driver, are you? I don't see any passenger cars in the lot." "Well, I am looking for a ride to Nantwich." "You're in luck. I happen to be driving there. I can give you a ride." "That would be terrific." The two sat silently in the truck cabin. The yellow lights of street lamps and oncoming cars moved past them. Occasionally a small cluster of buildings or bright traffic lights of an intersection interrupted the monotone dark forest night. Charlotte rustled a cigarette out of her jacket that she still wore in the heated cab. "No, you can't smoke in here," said Liam scruffily. "What if I showed you one tit?" "Okay. Let's see it." She pulled down her top and bra to show the left breast. It was a skinny, long, saggy boob with a rosy red and perfectly shaped nipple. The soft color was very tender. The top of the nipple was creased and professed to its function of expressing milk. He took a long sideways look on a straight stretch. She waited patiently to ensure that he got a full look. Then, she lit up the cigarette. "Roll down the window." "It's freezing air out there." "Your titty show did not buy you smoking up the cab." She pulled down the window and swiftly inhaled to finish the cigarette faster. "What do you do anyway?" "I am a fashion designer in Scotland. Well, right now, I collect second hand clothing and recombine it to make better looking second hand clothing. That way, I don't have a regular job and can keep the social security pay." She pulled on the seatbelt to get the space to move her body sideways. She faced him gently and seriously at the same time. "I hope you don't mind me getting too personal. However, I noticed that you are uncircumcised. You realize that's why you can't have blowjobs. So, you have to butt fuck." "That is oddly forward, little bird. What's it to you anyway?" "Well, I am on my way to Hot Carling Academy. It's a school where you learn how to butt fuck. It's in England, because they are all uncircumcised there." "You kids have a school for everything these days." "Well, I will leave a business card of the school here, in case you change your mind." Charlotte got off at the center of Nantwich. PART II Charlotte sat on a flimsy wooden stool in her room that she rented in a boarding house. The house was on the slope of a small hill. Through the old window with the paint-crackling wooden cross in the center, she could see the single story buildings, trees and slivers of lawn beneath. White clouds chased across a pale blue sky. Beneath the window a small iron heater worked hard to warm the small room. The small room contained the small bed with the neat linen stretched, a small bookshelf with worn books gifted by friends, and a clothing rack with her small wardrobe. Everything was in soft colors, nothing with a screaming bright color. That's how she wanted her life, never to be touched too strongly. On the old, shallow wooden desk in front of her were a sewing machine, rolls of multi-colored yarn, and clothing samples half stitched together from last night. There was also the flier for the Hot Carling Academy. The cartoon figure of Mr. Carling had an oversized head and warm smile. Her last long-term boyfriend had made her love anal. However, all her subsequent boyfriend escapades had only consisted of young overly eager penises bouncing around painfully in her ass. The flyer had been piquing her curiosity for weeks. At first, she had wanted to throw it away after a girl had shoved it into her hand outside a store. However, she ended up keeping it, planning to throw it away only to pull it out every now and then and wonder how exquisitely a well trained man would be able to give her that special anal feeling, that special sensual explosion, that special intensity that came from a long anal love making session. Today, she had pulled the flyer out for a final time. The class that she had eyed all along was today. This was her last moment of daring: to step out of her Sterling cocoon to drive down to the wild England. She was ready to go. She had a long floral dress and her warm leather jacket. Her large handbag had condoms, mineral lube, a romance novel for the trip, and a plastic emergency shell to pull over for the rain. She pushed the flyer and business card into her handbag and stepped out of the squalid boarding house. The time to have a little fun, a little indulgence, and a little woman time had come. Hitching a ride was easy. A beaten and bleached blue passenger car with underinflated tires stopped quickly. A young working woman with a toddler in the back picked her up. The driver with her long gently wavy blond hair hurriedly pushed kid toys out of the passenger seat into the back. At the same time, the driver acknowledged Charlotte's beautiful smile. Then, they went off. The driver in jeans and a hoodie quickly chattered about her life. One passage around Larkhall stuck particularly in Charlotte's mind. "I used to be in the tough corner like you a couple years ago, before I meet my hubbie who works at the steel factory. I lived of social security. And, just the cheap food that you have to buy on that limited money, it really ravishes your body. My hair lost its luster. I am not putting you down girl, you are beautiful. But my enthusiasm for life vanished. I just accepted whatever came." "The best thing that I did in that situation was giving hand jobs. Giving hand jobs is nothing like being a prostitute. You don't have them sweating all over you. Nothing goes into your body. You just handle a little something." "You don't get as much money. And that is a good thing. Because all my friends that sold their body, they ended up spending, big time. And then they needed more money. With hand jobs you just get a little bit, enough to live a decent live and slowly claw your way out or move to London." "Now, I think of hand jobs as of renewable energy. I tried bagging groceries. After a few months, the repetitive motion has you sick and disabled. I tried one of those high stress low pay jobs. After a few months, your brain is burned out. You only have one body and one mind. They are like oil. Once you deplete them, they are gone. But, your erotic expression, it doesn't go away. You have those boobs morning to evening. And someone looking at them doesn't use them up. Just like sunlight, you can milk them all day and the next morning, your sexy lips are just as sexy." Charlotte had been sitting silently, taking in the peer working-class woman's advice. "A lot of my friends have gone to selling their bodies or selling drugs. I always thought that just by filling out the forms at the unemployment office and staying away from alcohol and drugs, a person should get by." "Nah, Charlotte, if you aren't born with parents that teach you, connect you, and send you to the right schools, you ain't got a chance." And, then the conversation took another turn about baby diapers and choosing the right baby food. Further down the road, almost at Nantwich, the mother left Charlotte at a truck stop, wishing her well. The truck stop was one of those roadside stops with large parking spots for eighteen wheelers. Standing on the parking lot, your soul could feel the draft of cars swooshing by. Charlotte retreated into the shelter of the truck stop restaurant, a square concrete bunker of a building with half broken neon sign. Inside a minimal cafeteria welcomed her with the warmth of a shrug. The walls and fixtures were as anonymous as the concrete of the road. She sat down at a metal counter near the order wheel. The waitress had day by day absorbed the ugliness of the passing truck drivers until her face had turned wench-like. With all the grace of a ragged-eared alley cat, she yelled at Charlotte "What d'ya want?" "A soup of the day, please." "It's Mulligatawny today. Is that alright?" "Yes, please." She sat there silently in the cold room with the cold lighting. She glanced over the customers to weigh her options of offering a hand job. There were only two men at a table. They didn't face each other and only occasionally talked. It was like they were biding their time. The younger of them was dressed in soccer clothing. His face was hardened and twitchy like a hooligan. The idea of being alone with him in a restroom stall scared her. There was something about the abrupt tapping of his shoes on the floor that made him seem violent and brash. Dirty Filthy Hand Jobs in British Truck Stop Restrooms His partner at the table wore a thick leather jacket. He was hunched over his food. His nose had a large wart. It looked ghastly. He was one of those men that had deep ruts of wrinkles and folds in their face like a garden gnome. She did not want to remember his face as her first hand job. So she went back to slowly eating half a spoon at a time to stretch out her meal. Then, another truck driver entered the room. He was medium short and walked with a wide stance like he rarely walked at all and only sat in his truck. The workout pants showed neglect by their stains. His belly made the man move in a roundabout way to heave himself onto the bar stool. More than anything else, the black wool beanie reminded her off her dad. He was of a similar build, an installation worker deployed somewhere in a Third World country to install a British power station. She missed her dad. Through her dad, she had learned the adorable side of working men. Even though her dad was short on words, in his heart he always appreciated his daughter. And she could feel it in hers. It was the silent presence of happiness. A silent presence of happiness could make for a good first hand job memory. She moved her handbag slowly from one chair to the next. Each chair required her to muster the courage again fresh. Then, two chairs away she asked him a superfluous question just to make contact. She did not remember what she asked - the time or something. Hearing his booming and rough voice made her comfortable. He was loud, outspoken, direct; and his mind was simple. By all aspects of beauty, the man was ugly and he had probably abandoned himself to sitting in a truck for the rest of his life. He ignored his feelings of boredom in the truck and random glimpses of a fancy dream. His beard and shaved head were all set up for minimal maintenance. Even with that, he struggled. However, she cared about feeling comfortable. She waited politely for him to finish his scampi meal. When he put his fork down after the last bite, she almost blurted from anxiety. Her heart pounded. She tried to slow down her speech and avoid slurring with her proposition to give him a hand job back in the restroom for fifty pounds. It was almost too easy. It was like pushing down an open swing door with a police battering ram. The man, Liam, followed her like a lamb to the back of the restaurant. She had expected entering prostitution to be a big thing. Somewhere she had expected an orchestra to play, police sirens to whine, and women to point their fingers at her. However, it was as easy as walking down a hallway. She was just walking. The ease of it panicked her even more. Entering the filthy, greasy bathroom, she remembered a time when she would have freaked at the sight of it, in the sheltered years before her employer had closed down. However, since she had experienced so much and just taken it. Her mind went to take-it-and-move-on mode. Drawing on a cigarette helped her calm a bit, but her lungs were shaking and pulling in air hard. Looking at the toilet seat, she remembered the words of her cleaning supervisor: "If you can see it, the customer can see it." She quickly rolled up toilet paper on her hand and started wiping. When the old pee stains and deep graffiti carvings wouldn't get any cleaner, she tossed the filth rag into the water of the bowl and hoped that Liam was too focused on the hand job to notice. The heavy man plopped onto the toilet seat in one motion. The sweatpants and his briefs were down around his ankles, and he didn't worry about them touching the ground. The big sweater made him half dresses, while the fat fold of his body made the penis seem like a hidden detail. Luckily, his penis was already at half staff. She would not have to strain to arouse the man. His big brawny hands hung down at his side. To get the door closed in the tiny stall with the big whale of a man, she had to squeeze herself almost into thin air. Pushing against the stall wall, toeing around the filthy toilet bowl and barely touching the man's knee, she managed to close the rattling door to her new cage. Without words, she squatted down in her high heels and kept her knees together to be neat and compact. Her dress was a bit above her knee. Her pokey knees showed in the buff. He took up two thirds of the stall. She took up a sixth, and the final sixth was taken up by corners and tiny miscellaneous gaps. She reached for his penis with her hand. She felt the smooth skin of the penis. Holding the firm stick of flesh felt good. She started moving her hand up and down. It was so easy to do. She looked at the penis head shining with smooth skin. The skin on the shaft moved easily. So, it must have been uncircumcised. It made it easier to grab the whole skin to move up and down instead of having to slide over the taut skin of a circumcised penis. She looked down at the floor. The dark gray filth marks and undefined water spots made her shiver a bit and look elsewhere. She looked at the penis, her swooshing hand, the groin hair, and the large meaty thighs. Through the urine stench of the restroom, she could faintly smell his penis oozing pheromones due to the erection. It was a musky smell - he had probably not showered in three days on his truck route. She thought of her own autoerotic session in her room and the smell of her own pussy after working it hard and alone. A man entered the bathroom. Liam freaked. She calmed him down. For all she knew, the other man enjoyed interrupting them and would later jerk off to the memory of it. Men are that way. And she did not want to lose out on her fifty pounds half way through. Liam had lasted already minutes. She squeezed harder with her hand, because she knew that it made it more intense for guys. And then, the pulsing started. She knew that it was the final spring. She squeezed harder and pummeled the meat more furiously. And, then as she had learned from her boy friends, she caught the jizz with copious toilet paper. The mellowed man completely collapsed. She went outside to busy herself behind the mirror with the broken faucet and empty paper towel dispenser. She busied herself to give him a moment to compose himself before taking her pay. She flirted a bit. He paid with a half clean bill. Leaving the truck stop behind, she stood in the cold and realized that she needed a ride. Liam coincidentally went her way. He was a pleasant, quiet, and accommodating man. For some reason, his quietness made her blurt out about that he should be going to the butt fucking school. She realized that she was telling him how to live his life and thought that it was funny how we lectured other people. From the drop off by Liam at the center of Nantwich, it was a short walk to the end of Crontkinson Avenue. The building was an old biker club near the railroad station. Plenty of choppers were parked outside. Yet, the building was mostly empty and dark, because the bikers had gone to sleep or drink in the pubs. Only a lit room at the end of a hallway on the second floor had the lights on. She carefully walked through the half darkness of the building. Flags and biker jackets as memorabilia adorned the walls. A blond 25 year old girl behind a counter surprised Charlotte. "There you are. You must be Charlotte. We have been waiting for you." The girl was a short, perky, and proud postured woman. She wore a blue satin mini skirt and a big leather jacket over her shoulders. The shoulders of her leather jacket were checkered black and white. Her hair was a vivid blond with the hair evenly and symmetrically cut. The back of her hair was twirled and held in place with a chopstick. The hair ends looked sharp and like a pin wheel behind her head. "I will just have you fill out the consent form and pay. The class has already started. However, they haven't gotten to the good parts yet." The confidence and cheery clarity in the voice of the woman made Charlotte jealous. The woman looked like a club kid with her attractive makeup, radiantly red cheeks and deeply vivid blue eyes. After Charlotte had filled out the form and paid, the woman slid off her chair. And, Charlotte noticed the knee high black leather high heel boots with which the girl strutted in front of her to the training room. Leaning and hanging from the side of the door frame, she called into the room that Charlotte had arrived. Then, the woman left into the darkness of the hallway. Apparently, her duty was done for the day. The room was the only seat of activity in the whole building. Mr. Carling was a sleaze bag. He wore a stylish show cowboy costume. It was a black shirt with white decorative stitching. His pants were black under a white chaps from rough cow hide. He wore a black hat with strings tied around it. The end of the strings formed a stiff V. "Charlotte dear, you are just in time. We have done all the basic warm up exercises. If you can come over here to this massage table, so that we can pair you up with a partner. Oh, Lewis over here has a small but lovely sized penis of five inches that will make it easy for you to get started." Charlotte looked around the room. A mix of a handful of men and women stood naked or only dressed in socks and a t-shirt in the room. The atmosphere was already congenial and heavily focused from the class. The faces calmly followed the teacher guiding her to a green vinyl massage table. "Honey, let's get you naked and lying with your knees tucked under at the edge of the table." The pale floral dress came off easily over her head. She had worn a dress to make it easy to undress. The off-white grandma lace panties came off quickly over her knees and ankles. The high heels had her already barefoot. She kneeled onto the table and lowered herself onto her knees. Mr. Carling suavely placed a pillow under her sideways facing head for comfort. Her naked body lay like a little package on the table. Her bare feet folded sideways under her butt. Her butt had the cheeks spread to expose her anus that pulsed with every breath and the long slit of her vagina that was glistening with regular day to day half dried excretion. Her body felt cuddled by her knees and the pillow. She relaxed into not seeing behind her to surrender to the soft sensation she anticipated inside of herself. Lewis was a balding man with the face of an insurance salesman. His face was sweaty with nervousness about putting in practice the classes' theory section. He stood next to Mr. Carling. Mr. Carling held a large bottle of lubricant in his left hand. Raised ten inches over her butt, he demonstrated pouring a stream of lubricant down onto her butt cleft. His right hand was placed on the soles of her feet anticipating the overage of the lubricant. "There can never be too much lubricant. When the lubricant hits my lower hand, I know that there is enough. And, then I am going to stroke and distribute the oil. The pussy stimulation also starts her erotic engine. Starting her erotic engine is crucial to the whole thing being fun." Feeling the lubricant running down her ass made her feel dirty. However, she let it happen. And, then Mr. Carling's suave hand massaged the oil up and down all the way from her clitoris to the top of her butt cleft. There was something very soothing to the motion, and she surrendered to it, almost got dreamy. One of the women in the audience called out "Look how angelic her face is." Charlotte could feel by the changing pressure on her mound that Mr. Carling was turning to face the woman, probably with a big satisfied smile. "For beginners, it is best to mix familiar erotic stimulation with new erotic anal stimulation." With one hand, Mr. Carling twiddled her vagina. The other hand massaged her anus. Pretty quickly, his thumb started plopping in and out of her anus. "Oh, we have an experienced student here. Lewis come over here, put on a condom and lube up. Charlotte is ready to receive you." The voice in Lewis' throat crackled with nervous tension. A few moments later, she felt the tip of his penis poking at her anal sphincter. She was completely surrendered to her pose and the warm stimulation of her loins. "Now, poke on the outside only a little bit. You don't want to go in yet." However, on the first poke already half of the penis head entered her. And, on the second poke, Lewis slowly glided his five incher all the way in. Mr. Carling instructed him to start a slow rhythm, while pinching and rotating her nipples. Mr. Carling checked in with Charlotte to how much pressure she liked on her nipples. She liked a lot, because it made her pussy water. The class clapped in admiration. Charlotte smiled with the happiness of a good student. Mr. Carling asked to provide feedback to Lewis. "Once you are inside of me, I don't feel a whole lot. It's really the entering and exiting that makes it sexy. If you could completely come in and out with each thrust, that would feel great." A woman in the audience nodded audibly with a 'hm.' Mr. Carling encouraged the student to follow her advice. After a few thrusts, Mr. Carling interrupted. "Charlotte, I think that you are ready for a little more. Samuel has a proud eleven inch cock. No worries, it is not very wide. It is just long as the Euro Tunnel." Samuel was a young athletic looking guy. He could have been a baker or a student. His hair was blond and short. The features of his face were large, blocky, and friendly. She did not see his penis, because her body was covering the view. She only felt it slowly entering the already loosened hole. And, then her arse started filling and filling. Mr. Carling had Samuel stop. "How are you feeling, Charlotte? We are about half way in." "Oh, I feel like he is coming out my throat." The class laughed warmly at her teary eyes. Hinted by Mr. Carling, Samuel kept moving farther into Charlotte. Charlotte felt like overflowing. Her heart started pounding. She started wailing a loud moan that curled everyone's skin. It wasn't a sharp scream. It was a low vibrating hum of 'haaaaa.' Mr. Carling guided Samuel's hand underneath her chest in between the boobs to feel her heart. "Samuel, you can always check into her breathing and heart rate by putting your hand here. And, don't lose the courage. Keep going, two more inches and you are in. I swear, she is having the time of her life." The flooding feeling of her ass spread over her whole body, so that she could no longer locate the source of the intensity. At the same time, it felt large and expansive like the feeling of diving into a large lake and being surrounded by luscious water. She buried her face into the pillow. Her heart and soul were screaming into the pillow like she had never been alive before. The students ruffled their bodies enthralled and raptly attending to the process. When Samuel was all the way in, Mr. Carling told him to pull out completely and do it again. The second time, her entire body felt alive and every muscle of her wanted to fuck that dick. When it was all the way in, she yelled with a strong voice "Oh, fuck me." Her face was resting on the side of the pillow again. It had become sweaty. The makeup had become moist and blurry. Her face had the expression that showed the anal had activated her parasympathetic nervous system. Mr. Carling guided the rest of the class to partner up, while she got thrust into sensual bliss. Mr. Carling had everyone rotate from partner to partner, so that everyone got to feel everyone and provide feedback. After an hour of anal stimulation by varying partners, Charlotte was in a blissful place of falling between a drowsy sleep and melting orgasms. The position of lying on her knees was really comforting and cozying her into a deeper state of relaxation and regression. PART III A few weeks later, Liam stood in front of the entrance to the biker club in Nantwich on a sunny afternoon. The biker club sign was a large, shiny, multi-color spectacle. The only hint of the Hot Carling academy was a plastic display box stuffed with flyers and the logo now familiar to Liam. The regular glance of Liam's eyes on the business card that he had left where Charlotte had placed it on the dashboard had worked his mind. Liam couldn't stop glancing at the business card that Charlotte had placed on the dashboard. No more than he could remove it or throw it away. Somehow it reminded him of her. The curiosity, boredom of being alone in the widowed house, and the fading memory of the mystery woman with the hand job had driven him to search out the academy on a free afternoon in between truck runs. A biker sat lazily on his bike in front of the white two story building. The biker had big puffy leather gear on. The black helmet only covered the top of the head. The large black sun glasses covered the rest. "Is the Hot Carling Academy here?" "You are at the right place, son. That's some good shit. I have tried it and loved it. I really love pounding hard and unleashing my inner savage." "Very well then, sir." Liam continued on. There was a large garage with half assembled bikes, tools, rags, and lifts everywhere. The shiny painted gas tanks with their skulls, dragons, and flashy women made him pause for a moment, before he searched his way past an office-like room to a staircase. At the top of the staircase was a sign. Rafters were standing everywhere and crossing each other. They were painted over white giving the building a rustic yet meticulous feel. Half way down the hall was a counter. Behind the counter stood a blond 25 year old girl. Her legs were spread in a wide stance. He could literally feel the draft of air up her skirt touching her coochie. The girl had her hands in her leather jacket pockets. She didn't move at all until Liam was straight in front of her. Then, her blue shining eyes sized him up, while she chewed on her gum. Her facial features were on the small side. Her lips were lined by a dramatic dark red line. Her eyes had black makeup lines to make her look dramatic. "You have come to the best place in England to learn butt fucking. And, England is the best place in the world to butt fuck. It's because we are uncircumcised here, so that we can't do blow jobs." Liam pulled himself a class schedule along the counter and studied it. "Butt fucking 101" "Butt fucking 102" "Butt fucking 103" "Finger dexterity workshop" "What is the finger dexterity workshop?" "Oh, it is rad. That's an elective for after you finish the boot camp. Any woman familiar with our curriculum, who finds out that you took the class will drop her panties in a heartbeat. I do. And, I am happy for it every time." "The class starts with piano practice. The point is to learn to move each finger individually. Then we have juggling instruction. Once your mind can keep track of five balls in the air, you are ready for the practical part of class. You learn to put your pinky in the ass, the index finger in the pussy, and the thumb on the clitoris. Once you can sense and stimulate each finger individually, you are ready to rock her world." "Basically, a human being can keep track of one touch pretty well. Keeping track of two points becomes already overwhelming. Step it up to three points of stimulation and her mind is flooded with good vibrations that she can't source and place anywhere. It's a great class." "Uh-uh, what is the fisting workshop?" "That's another wonderful elective. We teach you how to make your hand small in the shape of a duck head. Once you are inside the ass, you make a fist and pump up and down. Boy, those are one of the wildest orgasms. The class also teaches double fisting." "You mean you had a fist in your ass?" "Oh, you bet. I haven't done double yet. However, I love the single fist." Liam seized up her small and well trained body. Her clothes looked sexy. He imagined her muscular body pummeled by a fist. Dirty Filthy Hand Jobs in British Truck Stop Restrooms "One of the perks of working here is that I get to take the classes as many times as I want. And, I love it each time. Mr. Carling is a real genius. If you sign up before the next 101 class starts in five minutes, I can give you a special 10% discount. That's only because your black beanie is so cute." Liam mumbled a bit to himself. The girl behind the counter was very sexy. Only seeing her naked would be well worth the money. Plus, if he actually got some action for his meat out of it, it would be wonderful. He was afraid though that his colleagues would find out. Though, he handed over the 135 pounds for the first three classes. The blond woman handed him the welcome package with a box of condoms, bottle of lube, and stack of instructional slides. She put the shower key on the counter, in case he wanted to freshen up. The shower on the left was for regular showers. The shower on the right was for enemas. She pointed him to the group room behind the door. Liam slowly waltzed his way to the group room. He found five men sitting on metal foldout chairs without cushion in a circle. They were all middle aged working stiffs. They all wore dark clothing. One had French beret hat that stood out oddly. Mr. Carling in the center was wearing a stylish Western uniform. Liam immediately admired the man, because he was standing proud and fashionable as a self styled leader, like Liam had always wanted to be. "Welcome, I am glad to meet you. My name is Hot Carling. Yes, my first name is actually Hot. And, no I don't know what my old folks were thinking. Just call me H. Tell us your name, and have a seat." A minute later, H wrung his hands and welcomed the class. "First, let's start off with some anatomy. The anal sphincter consists of two circular muscles. One of the muscles is consciously controlled. The other muscle is subconsciously controlled. And, that's why it is so painful for ignorant people. They don't know how to relax the second muscle ring." "Once inside, you have a big cavity. For men, there is the back of the prostate gland. Stimulation here can produce wonderful orgasms. Just take two fingers and rub in a circle on it. For women, there is only a thin divide between the vaginal and anal orifice. When your penis is inside the rectum, you can palpate your dick through the vagina." "Now, I'd like to guide you all on an inner exploration of your anus without touching. Let's have a deep inhale and feel how the anus is being pushed down into the seat. Exhale and feel the anus opening just a tiny bit. And, with each breath, you will feel your anus moving a bit more. Feel that for a few minutes." "Now, let's clench our anus and release. That's an important daily exercise, so that we can really milk our partner during anal. And, for a little challenge, let's try alternating between clenching our urethra and the anus. I know at first, they seem to clench together. If that is you, just keep on visualizing the one that you want to clench and keep going until your mind learns to separate." The blond receptionist poked through the door. Liam's heart started beating faster. Her leather jacket was zipped down at the front. He caught a glimpse of her décolleté and it made him want to see her boobs naked. His heart started pounding with anticipation. "Mr. Carling, I closed everything up. I will be going for the day now." "Thank you, Sandra. You are a sweetheart!" Liam's heart sunk. He felt sweaty and sinking with disappointment. He caught the glimmer of her tight ass under the soft skirt leaving the entrance way of the room. Just for a moment, the outline of a sexy thong was clear. "Now, we are getting to the hands on part of the class. First, we will experience ourselves. I'd like everyone to wash their hands now and come back to disrobe." The men shuffled out of the room. They gave each other respectful distance to avoid touching and looked on the floor to avoid eye contact. Liam waited patiently behind the man with the round back in the gray wool sweater. The wool sweater man washed his hands up to the elbow with soap. The man had to lean forward to fit his elbows under the low faucet. The men returned tentatively to the room. Under the warm and enthusiastic smile, they undressed and placed their clothes onto their chairs. Socks folded on the seat. Pants folded on the back rest and so on. H stopped Liam from putting down his black beanie hat. H explained that he never took of his cowboy hat either. The bulky, hairy middle aged men stood naked in a circle. H handed out plastic mats for the men to put under their butts, when they lay on the floor. That way the lube would not stain the short-haired brown carpet. H started a CD with the low humming of Taoist monks. "Everyone, let's move our hands over our bodies. Let's all get out of our heads. Let's touch our man boobs and love handles. Now, take some lube onto your fingers and started circling your anus. Let's pulsate up and down on it without entering. Let's see, if we can move the whole sphincter around." Liam felt awkward lying naked with other guys, playing with his pooper. He could hear the wet sounds of fingers next to him. A man coughed and another cleared his throat. It was so odd to be naked next to men that always made fun of anything that was not beer, soccer, or trucks. He raised his head to look around. They all looked like lambs lost deeply in their anal focus. Then, H had them sound out their feelings. The grunts of men were bizarre to hear at first. The weirdest were two guys, who actually got into overly enthusiastic grunting. Liam's dick slowly started rising from the mechanical stimulation. He placed his hand over it to cover it. However, H encouraged him to embrace his male sexuality. H said that learning from the other men to become more of a man would make him a better lover. Only sleeping with girls made men imitate girl sexuality, which was very dissatisfying to women on a deep level. The workshop would let him train in becoming more male again to take women like a man. So, Liam let out a groan as well. And, it felt kind of good. He started groaning and almost harmonizing with the other guys. H congratulated the group and welcomed them to move to the next stage of actual penetration. He had Liam lie on a massage table on his back. "Where are the women?" "Liam, there are no women today. We will practice on each other. I know what you are thinking. However, it is actually to our benefit. To become truly great at anal, we have to experience what it feels like. I have seen many shy students plateau very early, because they never experienced it." "I am not taking a dick up my ass." "Liam, you don't have to do anything that you don't want. However, society has kept a secret from you. Even in ancient Greece, fathers would teach their sons about sleeping with women by having anal sex with them." "Just taking a cock in your arse in a class does not make you gay. It is a learning experience. This is a free pass. This is a judgement free classroom. And, the women will love your anal skill. Did you know that most cities only have a handful of man, who've mastered anal sex? This experience will be your corner stone for becoming such a thought after man." "Okay, but only for a little bit and to learn." "Oliver, come over here. Roll on this condom. Put on this lube. And, Liam's ass is already warmed up to receive you. If you could just hold his feet in your elbow crease to make him comfortable on his back." And, then Oliver fucked Liam in the ass. Oliver's hips thrust forward. Soon, they were all fucking each other in the ass. Wet-filled condoms were flunked off, tossed in the trash, and replaced by fresh ones. AND, THAT'S WHY BRITISH PEOPLE HAVE BAD TEETH! ---------------------------------- The story is based on the song 'Pink Cellphone' from Deftones. The last half of the song is super powerfully punched by an erotic female voice. The title of the story should have given it away for fans. Some elements of the song, like the last line, will only make sense after listening to the song. Love that song and listen to it on an endless loop.