2 comments/ 33297 views/ 2 favorites Driver Reliever By: shabbu My legs were wrapped around his hips; my eyes were watering, and locked on his. And the driver reviver Tarzan was between my thighs, swinging me back and forth as I hung suspended, wrapped in the lianas trailing down from the jungle canopy high above us. He was swinging me so that his humungous dick sunk into me to the hilt on each swing forward, then nearly exited my channel on each swing back. I gripped his arms as his fingers grasped my burning nipples and I yelled, "Yes, yes. Deeper. Fuck me . . . Ohhhhhhh." The image of being suspended high above the ground in vines with a hunky Tarzan, his feet wide-spread and clinging to branches of the tree, standing between my thighs and just swinging me back and forth on his stiff, long, thick prick was driving me wild. Him grunting at the exertion, his muscles rippling. Me helplessly entwined in the vines, begging him at first to slow down, to give me more time, not to thrust so deep and hold himself inside me to the root so long. Him laughing and thrusting deeper and rotating his hips, pressing me everywhere inside. Then I'm letting out a long moan, arching my back, and giving in to him completely, crying to him now that I can't get enough of him. Bucking against him as he gets wilder and thrusts, thrusts, thrusts. His eyes capturing mine. Telling me that he can continue this almost endlessly, and he does. Bucking, thrusting, moaning, groaning. "Yessssssssssss." I screamed, throwing my head back. My cream spouting into the steamy jungle atmosphere and landing on his arms and my chest. We were making so much noise. Attracting the young, virile, nearby tribesmen. They are in the jungle, hidden, but touching themselves and each other as they watch Tarzan plowing me. And then, with his permission . . . . My second visit to the driver reliever at the wayside rest stop was going even better than my first. All tension from the long drive on the busy highway had flowed out of me and I was ready to face the traffic once more. * * * I had heard the one about the hunks waiting inside what looked like an ordinary portable toilet at the driver reviver station at the end of the F3 freeway several times. In your dreams, I thought. And laughed each time. Hunks hung like horses and just waiting about for sex. Ha. But when Hank had told us about being there and seeing it, I had been thoughtful afterwards. Hank has no imagination. Hank couldn't dream up a decent sexual fantasy if his life depended on it, let alone a gay one. Hank has never made any sign he might even fancy that sort of release. But Hank is also boringly honest. Which is actually one reason I like him. You can rely on Hank. If he says he will come over and help you build a fence at the side of the house, well he does. So now we were off to Foster for a few days, me, the wife and the son and daughter. And it was Christmas school holidays, and we were going on Saturday morning so the driver reviver stations, where local service clubs provide free coffee and snacks for harried holiday traffic drivers at rest stops, would be in full swing. And we would be passing the one at the end of the F3 freeway, next to the big roundabout between the freeway's end and the Kurri road, where this urban gay myth was supposed to exist. So I would see. Which made me feel pretty idiotic; I mean it was a myth, what was I going to look for at the reviver station, some spaceship or something? And how was I going to look? The daughter and my wife could talk all day, and the son in law was still always happy and looking dopey, as long as he was around his new wife. So leaving them with a free cup of coffee and some fruit cake from the Lions club van and going off alone to the line of portable toilets for fifteen minutes would be easy. I could then come back and tell Hank he must have been drunk, or dreaming, or probably both. Not that he was much of a drinker. I was edgy all morning, and the traffic on the road slowing us down didn't help me to relax. Which was all pretty silly. All I was doing was getting tense because I was going to prove out a myth was just that, a myth. We finally arrived at the end of the freeway, and my body relaxed, but my mind raced. At last, I thought, in a little while it will be over. There was a short queue of cars moving off into the carparking area and I followed them. It was busier than I remembered it from our last visit a couple of years before. The Lions van was set up in the middle of the open dirt area, its shutters up and a couple of queues lined up for their free coffee. I had trouble finding anywhere to park and the crowds milling about in the bright sunshine and heat made it look just like a market day, or a car boot sale. And along the back of the rough dirt area, hard up against the bush that skirted the cleared parking area, was the long row of forty portable moulded fibreglass toilets. Their doors opened and banged closed regularly, up and down the line as people moved in and out of them. We got out of the car and all headed over that way. And I did my first survey. The units all looked pretty much the same, but they did all have numbers on them, like Hank had said. Hank's story had been the most detailed, but then Hank could be quite anal at times. He had said it was portable unit H093, and I started reading the numbers as I ran my eye down the line of portable units. "Hurry up Neil," my wife said, as I stopped, and she bumped into me, "We don't want to be here all day, and there is a queue for coffee." "You go ahead ,"I said, "I feel a bit queasy. I may be a while." I grimaced at her. "You all right?" she flung over her shoulder, as she strode off. "Fine," I said, to her departing back, "Probably just something I ate. Or sitting so long." I resumed my survey of the units, H097 I saw, but they were in no order, the next was H006. Maybe it wouldn't even be here this time, I suddenly thought. Maybe it was somewhere else this holidays. I felt annoyed. I had come to prove this story was rubbish, and Hank never lied, so if H093 wasn't here I would be pissed off. Then I saw it. There it was, third from the end, H093. It looked just like all the others. A guy stepped out and the door banged and I hurried towards it. But before I got there another guy came out and the door banged closed again. If I hadn't had my eyes on the unit the whole time, I would never have noticed. And I was still thinking that maybe I had blinked and the second guy had gone in and out super quick, and I hadn't noticed. Of course they could have been in there together. The most likely explanation I thought. And maybe that was the real explanation, guys knew to go to H093, if they wanted some action when they stopped at the reviver station. So much for an urban myth I thought, as I neared the unit. Another guy dived up the step just in front of me, and flung open the door and disappeared inside. The door banged closed and I stopped, not sure what to do. As I was trying to decide another guy came out and seeing me almost ready to climb the step held the door open for me, with a big smile on his face. This was not the guy I has just seen go in. I stepped forward and said thanks and passed him and stepped through the door. The door banged closed behind me. It was true. The naked man holding his hand out to greet me was hung, and hard and smiling. His black curly hair hung to his shoulders, his golden skin was flawless and covered a muscular body with black hair trailing up from a lush bush to a glossy dusting around the dark nipples that topped his well-developed pecs. I think my mouth gaped. There was no fibreglass toilet unit to be seen; instead there was a small foyer, dark and moody, with the naked man waiting in it, just like Hank had said. But Hank had turned, and left in shock, and when he had turned back and opened the door again to check, there had just been the normal moulded toilet unit inside. I wasn't leaving, though. I wasn't Hank. "Would you care to make a selection sir?" the man asked me. I nodded, still in shock. He waved an arm, and along the walls pictures of men appeared. They were live images of good-looking men of all ages—men sitting, lying, moving, waiting, and chatting in small groups. "How much?" I asked, suddenly wary. "Free, sir. This is an official driver reviver station, sir," my host answered politely. "We can take donations, but we don't charge, and you aren't obliged to donate," he added, smiling so he showed perfect white teeth and running his hands down his body and driving me wild. "Are you available?" I asked in a weak voice. "Me?" he said, moving a hand to his cock and stroking his thumb over the wet cap, teasing his slit as I watched. "Me?" he smiled and moved closer. "Of course, sir." He moved in and stroked his hand over my growing package. "I don't have long," I said huskily, "The wife. Ten minutes." I wished I had come alone, as my hands moved to his body and began pulling him in for a kiss. "Ah. Time, like space, means nothing here, sir," he replied with a laugh, and taking my hand he pulled me along a dark narrow passageway that ran off the foyer past an endless row of doors. "Pick a door," he said, and I did. I stopped and opened it and we stepped inside. Well, we fell more like, into some sort of desert ruins. Heat and sand and rocks, I felt the heat hit my skin like a force. My skin. I looked down, to see skin. And down my belly I saw my dick. No clothes, they were gone. The hunk came up behind me and was rubbing his own skin against mine, and I moaned and forgot all about free coffee. His hand had plastered itself to my shaft and was stroking, while his mouth had met mine and I was digging into his with my tongue. His huge pole was rising up along my crack and lower back, and rubbing up and down as we kissed, and I moaned at his attention. There were noises around us, and suddenly he was pushing me forward. As I collapsed across a fallen sandstone block, I saw them. "Who . . . what . . . ," I gasped as he planted a big strong hand between my shoulder blades. Half a dozen tall lanky black youths were standing in the shade of the ruins fondling themselves. The hunk was attending to my hole and opening me up as I watched them. They looked like identical sextuplets to me, all naked and hung, with identical cocks that were incredibly long, but thin and curved upwards. They were all probably longer than the cock standing to attention behind me and ready to fill the passage that was now being well prepared. My cheeks were spread apart and a firm, experienced tongue was exploring my entrance, my rim already twitching in anticipation. Then one of the tall youths lazily leant against a still-standing section of stone wall, and lifting his arms up, he gripped the top of the broken stone and arched his back. His curved erection moved about as the second youth moved in behind him. As the hunk began to push a finger into my entrance, the long cock of the second young man was pressed into the entrance of the stretched-out and arched young man leaning against the stone wall. The youth taking it wailed some primitive song as the dark curved manhood of his companion disappeared inside him. I moaned loudly as the hunk worked another finger into my passage. Then he was turning his two fingers about inside me to stretch and open me, parting them to spread my rim. I moaned louder as the third youth came in behind the second one and began to feed his curved cock into the hole of the identical looking man before him. "Yess," I cried, "Yessss," seeing the third youth's manhood entering the second one, and I spouted again and again, onto the sand. The hunk behind me was between my spread thighs and pressed the head of his tool to my entrance, and as he withdrew his fingers from my passage, his cock head entered me and filled the open hole they'd left. The three youths now sang some rhythmic chant, and on the high note, the three bodies moved in a wave, each withdrawing and plunging back into the man before him. The chant rose to a wail as the fourth youth moved up behind the third one, holding his long curved tool in his hand. The third youth spread his own cheeks in welcome, and the fourth cock slowly slid home, to a satisfied undulation and moan from the line of four black, glistening arched bodies. The hunk had me skewered too now, and I was grunting and yelping and moaning, "Yes. Fuck me hard. Fuck me. Yes deeper, now, now," over and over. The youths' chant continued, and the bodies swayed and moved in unison again, and there was another group howl. Then the fifth youth moved in, and again I watched, mesmerised as his long black cock impaled the man in front of him. The hunk was still plowing me deep and hard and I was rocking in time with him my belly rubbing on the bare rock with the strong sun on my back. And my dick was re engorging, the sight before me and the hunk behind me working together to drive me wild. I watched the youthful line move back and forth again, and heard the moan in the chant getting stronger. Then it was the turn of the last youth, and he came in carefully and gave the hole he was to fill a brief tonguing before he entered it. He pressed his curved tool home slowly as the chant continued, and the hunk plowed my ass better than it had ever been plowed before. Once the last youth was embedded, the line undulated and moved to the chant they were calling out. And again, and again it moved, swaying to the wild rhythm, and the hunk behind me was joining in, plowing me to the same rhythm, the chant just a collection of sounds to me but the rhythm driving me wild, till the hunk came deep inside me. Soon after, a great groan went up from the six youths as the line shook and jerked. Several of the sextuplets quivered and cried out as the line fell apart with spouting cocks appearing everywhere. "Yess. Yesss," I cried, throwing my head back in ecstasy, and coming again. I was pleased to know that Hank really was as honest as I had thought he was. And when I emerged from the portable toilets' door, what seemed like hours later, my wife thought I had been gone for minutes only and had a free coffee reviver waiting for me. Driver Reliever Ch. 02 "Jake, you're on," I said into the invisible mike. Sending Jake, the young blond ex surfer who I was assured was 20 but who definitely looked underage, off into the reception area of a driver reliever centre - somewhere in Colorado. I sat back, keeping an eye on the equipment and occasionally turning to watch the visuals. The guys were all on the ball today and it was too early for the Australian rush and past the peak of the US one, so my work was done for a few minutes. Driver Reviver centres are really starting to take off in the US now, they aren't just Australian any more, and we are putting driver reliever centres into the reviver centres as fast as we can roll them out. I focused again on the scene in the rough dockside barroom that existed in some US driver reliever centre and my hand took up stroking where it had left off. Yes, I like my work I thought as I watched the three muscular, hairy bodies perform, one holding the lean young client up in front of him as he pounded into his ass, while another was sitting back with the client's legs wrapped around his shoulders as he sucked on the client's surprisingly long dick. The third beefy guy was jacking off as he watched, waiting to attempt a double entry into the client's rear. It was what the client fantasised and had come for I knew, as my other hand roamed around my lightly tanned and increasingly muscular chest and tweaked a nipple. My chest was getting quite hard I suddenly realised, all the gym work and sex I was getting in my new job, I thought with a smile. And I shuddered, as for some reason I momentarily recalled what my life had been like only 6 months before. And I remembered how my journey to where I was had begun only 18 months before. It was my proving that the myth of what lay hidden in an ordinary Australian, New South Wales, Driver Reviver centre was in fact true, (see Driver Reliever Ch 01) that had started it all. Or ended it all, was perhaps a better way to put it. Ended my old life. Yes, that first time I had entered the secret world of the driver reliever centre hidden inside one of the common old portable fibreglass toilet units provided at the reviver centre, had opened a new world for me. It had been the summer school holidays and as we were all warned to 'stop, revive, survive' every two hours by the Roads and Traffic Authority. And they in collaboration with the Lions Club had set up the Driver Reviver station at the end of the F3 freeway as usual, and it was in full swing. But at this stop one of the portable toilets was not as innocent as it seemed. I had heard tales, and I had come to prove them nothing but myths. Instead I had wound up weak kneed and wondering how soon I could return. Yes. I was definitely weak kneed as I rejoined my wife, Fiona, my son, Andrew and my daughter, Angela, and was handed my 'free' Driver Reviver station coffee - courtesy of the Lions club, and a gold coin donation - after an apparently brief visit to one of the Driver Reviver station portable toilets. I discovered that my first visit to the driver reliever centre in the toilet cubicle that wasn't ordinary, had only taken a few minutes in the real world of the regular 'free coffee' Driver Reviver station. The hunk in there had told me time and space meant nothing inside that portable unit, H093. And it was true. So I was thinking about how soon I could return to the Driver Reviver centre and how often I could visit unit H093. As I was pondering this important question my daughter, Angela, moaned loudly, "I feel sick." All heads turned their attention to her, that is, her doting husband and my equally doting wife suddenly had thoughts of nothing else. I sighed. My daughter often claimed she felt ill, but the illnesses always mysteriously passed after she had received a suitable amount of attention. My wife Fiona, and our son Andrew, helped Angela back to the car. There she sat in the back seat being fanned by her husband as my wife ran off to get more free tea and some food, and also cold water. It looked like they were settled in for a while. I was unnecessary as usual. I often felt I was unnecessary in my family, Fiona was a keen lawn bowler, and as one of her clubs stars she was out bowling more than she was at home. So grabbing the unexpected opportunity of Angela's illness, I told my son I felt a bit queasy again, and would have to go again. He seemed to take note, but basically ignored me. Which was fine with me. I hurried off, back to portable toilet number H093 and climbed the steps and opened the door and went in. It had gone! No. Seriously. I mean, I was in shock. Because now H093 had nothing but a fibreglass toilet and hand-basin unit inside it. I staggered back out and checked the number on the side of the unit. Yes, it was H093, and in the same place I was sure. I stood there confused, and yes, disappointed. On my earlier visit I had hurried the greatest fuck of my life and been out as soon as I could, worried about time, and convinced my wife and family would have been searching the car park for me already. Now I had missed my chance to really enjoy that fuck. Perhaps forever, I groaned. I returned to my family feeling desolate, and stood by in a haze as Angela was revived, and then Fiona was being busy and shouting, " Neil, wake up, it's time to go, god you're useless," . Well it went from bad to worse after that. Angela it turned out was pregnant, which had me liking her for a while. My first grandchild, I thought proudly. But then Andrew got a transfer up the coast to Foster, which he said was somewhere safer and better for raising a child. Well I couldn't argue, Sydney had it's problems that was for sure. But of course Angela couldn't manage on her own so Fiona decided to go up to Foster for the week and come home on weekends. I had about got used to that when my wife decided the drive was too much, and her bowling was suffering. And also Angela was nearly due, so Fiona said she'd have to stay up there. I'd have to drive up to them on the weekends she decided. So I did. God, it nearly killed me. Working all week then heading straight off on a four hour drive to Foster every Friday night, sitting in my sons house trying to keep out of the way. Because I found that Fiona was almost never around, as she even more serious about her lawn bowls in Foster than she had been in Sydney. And then I had the same drive home on Sunday. It was killing me, and I knew it wasn't ending soon when the baby came and Fiona got a small flat of her own and started talking about her friends at the bowls club, especially about her girlfriend Jackie, whom I never met. The baby was cute, a boy, and for a moment I was full of pride and excitement. But I was hardly allowed to touch him, because according to Angela he seemed to be almost permanently poorly. Then it was summer again and the traffic was getting worse every weekend. A four hour trip was now taking me five hours and I shuddered to think how long it would take around Christmas. But then it happened; one Friday evening I saw the Driver Reviver centre at the end of the F3 was open again. I had not given it any thought. I had been too busy and too tired. But there it was, a beacon of welcome and revival, and I pulled in and parked. And heaved a sigh of relief. And I wondered in a rush if unit H093 was there again. I nervously got out of my car and staggered to the line of cubicles like a zombie. Hoping like mad, but half dreading finding it there. But it was there. Portable toilet unit H093. I closed my eyes and wished that it would be as I remembered it inside, open and welcoming. As I stood on the dirt at the foot of the steps the door of the portable unit opened and a man emerged. Before he could let the door fall closed I pushed past him and inside, and I shook with relief to see the small foyer again, and a naked man standing there examining the head of his cock. It was a different man though, a blond this time, and his cock was only half engorged. "Hello again," he said, looking up at me, "You look exhausted Neil." I didn't bother wondering how he knew my name, or anything, I was just incredibly grateful and glad he was there. "Yes, I am exhausted," I replied, "But you are here and this time I know I don't have to hurry. I didn't have time to get properly relieved the first time, I was so worried about the time, but when I tried to come back you . . . you were gone." He shrugged, "Relief is provided when most needed. And I'm sure Ted told you that time, like space, means nothing here?" he queried, smiling. "Yes. Yes, he did," I replied, thinking of Ted, "And now I believe him. And to be honest I'd like to stay in here forever, if it's half as good as last time." And I knew I had said something that was true. My life was empty, and deep down I knew that my wife Fiona had moved on and now had another life, and that neither she nor my son would really care if I disappeared. " Can I get a job here, work here, not like you do, but don't you have anything behind the scenes?" I was rambling and to myself I sounded slightly desperate. He frowned, "Hum. I'll ask while you are being relieved. You know the score Neil, pick a man," he said, waving his arm so the screens around the walls lit up. I scanned them for my previous companion, Ted, but couldn't see him. And I didn't want to annoy this new man, who wasn't really my type, so I quickly chose a huge muscular, horse hung guy with dark curly hair, whose hard, jutting cock must have been nearly 10 inches long, if not very thick. The receptionist waved a hand and in a moment my selection stepped out of the passageway in front of me. "Follow me, Neil," he said, in a businesslike way. And I did. Gladly. I trotted after him as he strode along, his big round butt cheeks working in such a mesmerising way that I was hard and dripping by the time I realised he wanted me to pick a door, like last time. I stopped at the nearest. And he opened it and we stepped through. It was a jungle, literally. Lush vegetation surrounded us, a few streams of filtered light drifted across my companion's muscular torso and birds called raucously in the background, while a screeching monkey swung through the canopy above us. My mouth dropped open in amazement at it all, as I was pushed to my knees by my companion, who now reminded me of Tarzan. A muscular, horse hung Tarzan, who was keen on feeding me his huge club into my amazed mouth. And I was just as keen on taking it. I circled the rim of his cock head with my lips and worked my tongue over it, then into his slit, as I gripped the rest of his tool in both hands. I had never had anything so huge in my mouth before, or anywhere else. I was slurping on him and throbbing myself as I ran a hand to his huge balls and stroked the soft skin with its smattering of course black hair. Then Tarzan pulled my head back and pulled me up by my hair. There were vines hanging close by and he tugged at one before he wound it about my waist and looped it around again. Then he tipped me sideways and upside down and I hung there suspended in the vine, my face at his cock and my hands holding it steady as I was swallowing its dark round helmet head again. But Tarzan had also positioned my cock at his mouth and I hung there with my thighs resting on his shoulders as he swallowed me completely. I gulped and choked on his rod, as he sucked me in, then popped me out of his strong, pulsing mouth. He was sucking on my tool and swirling his tongue around it like nothing I had ever felt before. I was groaning, and grunting, and gulping, and my body was jerking about as he sucked me off, and soon my cum spouted down his throat in wild bursts as I shuddered and shook and got dizzy, trapped in the vine. As it went limp my dick plopped out of Tarzan's mouth, but he went searching between my thighs and soon found my asshole with his tongue, while his fingers found my balls. I was grunting and moaning again, as he tongued my ass, swirling about my rim and pushing that long tongue inside me. I gave up sucking him and took to licking his balls and just enjoying what he was doing to me as my hands stroked his huge cock. I cried out and kicked about as he pushed his huge fingers into my passage, my rim twitching and loosening as he stroked about just inside my entrance. I was moaning and so lost in what he was doing to me and filling my mouth with his nuts that I hardly realised he had sunk three or more fingers in me. I moaned and writhed feeling sudden pain. But just then he flipped my thighs off his shoulders, and turned me about in the coils of the thick creeper he had wound around my waist. He flipped me till I was upright again, facing him with my hips level with his huge tool, Then he let the creeper hold me up and just put his hands under my thighs and lifted them wide and apart. I got the hint and wrapped my legs around his waist and looked down at the huge spear he was holding ready to impale me on. I gulped at it's huge size and moaned, "No, no, I can't," as I saw it getting closer to my hole. I was yelping in pain and staring in fascination as his cock head disappeared inside me, almost splitting me. I tried to wriggle free, but I just rocked about in the embrace of the thick vine. Swaying back and forth. And my writhing and twisting opened me wider and let Tarzan's cock work in further, as I yelped and cried out that I had never had anything so big trying to get inside me. "I know," said Tarzan in a low rumble, "And you have got the tight ass to prove it. But by the time you leave here your ass will never be the same again." I gulped and reached up and gripped the vine, trying to raise myself up off the huge club sinking into me. I managed to lift myself for a moment but then my hands slipped and my ass dropped down and I was speared a good inch deeper, and I screamed, "You are splitting me!" again, as I tried to lift myself up and off him again. "You'll be fine," my Tarzan rumbled. I wasn't sure he was right though, and pulled myself up the vine, before my hands slipped again and my ass dropped even further down his hard pole. I cried out in pain as he fisted my cock to ejaculation and my ass spasmed and rode his cock even lower. I was moaning now in disbelief at taking so much of him in, and the start of a feeling of being stuffed as I never had been before. Then I yelped and cried out as he finally sunk that huge club of his to it's limit inside me, and his pubic hair was kissing my ass. I looked down at his pubes resting against my butt and moaned. But yes, I realised, I wanted to be as full as he was making me. So I threw back my head and cried out, just like I remembered doing as a kid when I was playing at being Tarzan, and I panted and moaned as I tried to pull him in deeper with my legs wrapped around his waist. He was grinning widely and just pushed me back so his pole slid out of me part way, which was almost as painful as his pole going in. But it was my legs that pulled him back in to the limit, wanting that totally filling fuck to go on and on. I slowly opened enough for him to start pumping me and then I just hung back in the vines twists, and let him rock my body back and forth on his pole. The image of being suspended above the ground in vines with that hunky Tarzan standing between my thighs and just swinging me back and forth on his stiff, long, thick prick was driving me wild. Him grunting at the exertion, his muscles rippling. Me helplessly entwined in the vines, begging him at first to slow down, to give me more time, not to thrust so deep and hold himself inside me to the root so long. Him laughing and thrusting deeper and rotating his hips, pressing me everywhere inside. Then me letting out a long moan, arching my back, and giving into him completely, crying to him now that I can't get enough of him. Bucking against him as he gets wilder and thrusts, thrusts, thrusts. His eyes capturing mine. Telling me that he can continue this almost endlessly, and he does. Bucking, thrusting, moaning, groaning. " Yessssssssssss." I screamed at last, throwing my head back. My cream spouting into the steamy jungle atmosphere and landing on his arms and my chest. We were making so much noise, we were attracting the young, virile, nearby tribesmen. My eyes had been seeing nothing but the occasional flash of sunlight and the dense canopy of the trees overhead. But then my head flopped back and I saw one. A lithe bronze figure emerging from the trees and moving towards us. I rolled my head and saw another, and another, and moaned. They were in the jungle, partly hidden, but touching themselves and each other as they watched Tarzan plowing me. I moaned and Tarzan laughed as he continued to swing me back and forth. Then the tribesmen were standing about us stoking each others peices and themselves, playing thier hands over their bellies and tweaking their nipples, talking and laughing as they watched. Tarzan grunted to them, and then, with his permission .. . . I was laid back then, suspended in the vines with my head now level with my butt where Tarzan was standing between my thighs rocking me back and forth in a regular rhythm. The first of the five now fed his manhood into my gaping mouth and I began to suck it greedily as Tarzan finally flooded my insides with his cum, flooding me in great hot bursts. The first tribesman's cock was pulled from my lips, and I heard myself shouting. "I want to stay here forever." As I reached for the hips of the next man, my body still swinging in the vines, but my hole being emptied by Tarzan to be filled immediately by the virile young native whose cock had just left my mouth. I fountained again across the damp jungle floor as the last native finally fountained deep inside me, my channel swimming in cum. When the last native pulled out of my channel my legs flopped down and cum ran down my inner thighs, as he stroked his cock clean over my thighs and hips and across my back. Then Tarzan showed he could still make me feel I was being stretched, still make me cry out, as he plowed me one last time. Finally he unwound the vine from around my body and I dropped down onto the spongy floor of the jungle, totally spent. Tarzan looked down at me smiling, and said, "Times up," reaching down a hand to me. "I never want to leave here," I said, looking up at him. "Never." Tarzan just laughed and pulled me upright. I stood on shaky legs wondering if I would ever walk properly again and staggered behind him as a door opened in the air, and we stepped back into the narrow dim corridor of the driver reliever centre. Suddenly I was dressed again, but I could still feel cum running out of me, tickling me as it trickled down my inner thigh, and I wandered in a daze through the foyer. "Hey, Neil. Stop," a voice cried out and someone grabbed my arm. I turned around and there was Ted, talking to me, saying "We've been considering your application Neil, and it seems you have scheduling and customer service experience." "Um. Yes. Why?" I said confused. My mind I'm afraid was totally fucked and still not out of the vines. Ted smiled. "Well it looks like we have a vacancy for a man of your talents," he said. "But as you know, space, like time, means nothing here. The catch with working here is that if you stay and take the job you can never leave." "Oh," I was still fuzzy in the head. " You are saying I stay here for ever, if I stay here? Um. Do I get a trial? What if it doesn't work out? What about my family?" "You have to give that all up Neil. You get one chance to join us, and if you do, that is it. But we don't make offers to just anyone. We look at it very seriously, and we are very careful who we hire." Driver Reliever Ch. 02 "But you don't know anything about me," I told him. "But we do Neil. We know all about you. About your situation with your wife, with your family at Foster, the driving back and forth, and that your wife Fiona has a boyfriend up there at the lawn bowls club. And she'll soon be telling you she wants a divorce." "What?' I croaked, confused. "Fiona wouldn't." "Jackie, her friend at the bowling club? That is a man Neil. I'm sorry." I stood, stunned for a moment. But then I laughed out loud and felt the weight of the world slip away from me. No. No one would really miss me. "But my car . . " "You are just one of those men who disappears unexpectedly each year Neil, who vanishes into a new life." I sighed, and shook my head as I remembered how, after that, I had left the foyer with Ted and we had gone down the passage and through one of the doors and I had started the perfect job. I had never regretted staying, and now it was time for my break I wondered what Ted was up to.