****** Douglasville Dilemma by Sniff42@aol.com ******
===============================================================================

Douglasville Dilemma


"What the fuck is goin' on!" I said out loud for about the thousandth time as I
beat my fist on the steering wheel in the darkness of the car.

It had been an hour since I had left the Atlanta Eagle, and I hadn't moved more
than ten miles towards Birmingham on I-20. All I could see in front of me in
the wee hours of the night was a massive wall of bright red taillights. The
whole fuckin' Interstate had come to a halt, and people were beginning to get
out of their cars and wander about the roadside. A few cars in front of me was
a big eighteen-wheeler.

"Maybe that trucker has a CB," I thought, "and knows what the fuck is
happening."

I got out of my car and began the short walk to investigate. On the way, all I
could think about was what a wasted night it had been. I had gone to Atlanta
hoping to score big time, and all I got was a piss poor blowjob in the parking
lot before I left... and had to fantasize then just to shoot my wad. Well, it
goes that way sometimes, but it didn't make for a happy camper.

"Excuse me," I shouted up at the cab of the truck. "Do you know what's going on
here?"

"Yeah," came the reply. "Two tractor trailers collided a few miles up the road,
and they've closed I-20 to clean it up. Could take a couple of hours at best
before traffic starts to move again."

"Shit!" I fumed inside. It was already well past 2:00, and I was tired and
frustrated from a night of thwarted cruising and a few too many beers.

Feeling the need to relieve myself, I walked off the road to a nearby patch of
woods to take a piss. As I pulled out my dick, I noticed a sign about a hundred
yards ahead that said Exit 10 - Douglasville, 1 mile. I could also see that a
few cars had begun to pull onto the shoulder of the Interstate and seek an
alternate route by taking this exit.

"Good idea," I thought, "maybe I can still get home tonight."

The beer had done its work... it seemed like I pissed a gallon onto the forest
floor.

"What a waste," I mused, "this should be going down some piss bottom's throat!"
I was still bummed out that the night hadn't turned out in my favor.

When my piss stream stopped, I replaced my dick and promptly returned to the
car. I got out my Georgia State map and began to look for Douglasville. There
it was. I could see the exit and also that there was an alternate route that I
could take. I cranked up the car, edged onto the shoulder of the road, and
began to slowly move toward Exit 10. Then, I saw it... a bright flash of light
in the sky and then a quickly followed, tremendously loud clap of thunder. The
first large raindrops almost immediately began to splash violently on the
windshield.

"Damn! Can anything else go wrong tonight?" I screamed out.

What a dilemma! I could either try finding my way down some dark ass country
road in a bad storm not knowing exactly where the wreck had occurred ahead or
how far to go to get around it, or I could try and find a cheap room at Exit
10. Hell, I could even crash in the car for a couple of hours if need be. I
checked my wallet for cash and discovered three twenties.

Making my slow progress ahead, I passed a sign giving all the gas stations at
the exit, then a list of all the places to eat, and finally a directory of all
the places to stay. Bingo!... a Motel 8. I had had it for the night.

"Just get a cheap room and sleep this night off," I thought, "it's just not
worth it anymore, and I'm getting really fucking tired of this shit."

Finally making my way to the exit, I saw the Motel 8 on the right. I pulled in,
ran through the rain to the office, got a room, and was ready to literally
crash out. Little did I know that the $35.95 plus tax that I paid was going to
buy me anything but a good night's sleep.

"Room 113... this is it."

I parked the car, walked through the door, tossed my gear on the chair,
stripped down, flopped down on the bed, and turned out the light. I always get
horny in motel rooms, so I began to stroke my cock.

In the darkness I could see a great deal of light which I discovered was coming
from a door that linked an adjoining room... room 111. I could also hear the
sound of what I thought was a computer getting IM's but not very clearly.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I crept over toward the light and found the
door between the rooms was exceedingly high at the bottom. I got down on my
hands and knees and peered under the door. I could not see much, but I could
see a towel on the floor and the telltale sign of what I was very sure was a
rim seat... four metal legs.

As I watched through the crack, I could see a pair of strong, masculine feet
pass by from time to time. In my horniness, I began to think about how nice it
would be to have those fuckin' man feet bathed with my tongue and mouth. My
pecker hardened like a rock thinking about what this guy might actually look
like. My mind ran wild. I was stroking slowly and thinking that this was the
best I was going to get out of this night... a jack off session fantasizing
about sniffin', lickin', and suckin' on this anonymous man's feet.

Then the silence was pierced by a quiet knock on the door. At first, I just sat
there silently on the floor in the darkness with my cock in hand. There it was
again... this time the knock was a little harder. Startled, I rose, quickly put
on a pair of boxers, and answered the door. There in the doorway stood a hot
fuckin' skinhead dressed in nothing but a muscle T-shirt, denim shorts, and
barefoot. I could see from the outside lighting that he looked to be about 30
or so and had a body that told me had worked hard for a living. He was tanned,
had a crown-of-thorns tat on his well-defined right bicep and a small viper's
head on his left muscular calf. I couldn't help but notice how strong the
sinews of his well-formed feet were. He stood so close to me that I could smell
his fuckin' scent... the musky smell of his BO was like a blow of poppers to my
brain.

"Uh, are you... uh, the guy on line?" he asked.

"No, sorry," I replied a bit saddened.

"Shit! Man, I'm sorry to bother you. I thought this was room 111," he said as
he looked again at the number on the door. "My mistake. Hope I didn't disturb
you, buddy."

"No problem," I answered.

NO PROBLEM? What the fuck was I thinking? Six feet, at least, of hot country
stud boy standing at my door? And I'm saying no fucking problem! I was
beginning to get crazy.

I closed the door and could hear the muffled knock on the door next to mine. I
returned to the crack under the door of the adjoining room fucking burning up
with desire. All my tiredness had left me. All I could think about was pumping
my meat. I listened attentively.

I heard nothing.

Then, through the crack, I saw this boy's strong knees, legs, and feet facing
the forward-facing feet of the man next door. My dick was oozing precum at the
sight of these manly appendages and the tease of what was going on above what I
could see. I began to hear the sound of male voices but could not make out what
they were saying.

"Shit!" I thought, "what the fuck's going on in there?"

I walked to my room's door and slipped out onto the walkway outside. The rain
had subsided, but it still fell softly. Any car that might approach could
easily be heard on the wet pavement of the parking lot. I knew I was taking a
chance, but I had to see if I could see what was going on in that room. My
horniness made me exceedingly bold.

And there... along the corner of the drapes that bordered my room... I found a
sufficient space for me to see inside room 111.

And what a sight I saw! I saw the skin kneeling behind the guy who's feet I had
viewed through the crack between the rooms. I couldn't see his face, but from
behind I saw a tall, slim built man who I guessed to be in his 40's. He had
silver streaked hair and a line to his body that made my cock twitch violently
in my boxers. He was wearing a slender, studded black leather arm band around
both biceps, a high black leather vest with chaining on the sides, and a pair
of white cotton CK briefs with a definite bulging brown outline at the crack of
his hot fuckin' ass. The skin was eagerly sniffin' and lickin' at the stud's
dump that had obviously been waiting for him. He acted like he was in pig
heaven getting just the whiff of this hot fucker's shit load.

"Too fuckin' much!" I thought as I felt my own dick drool wet against my leg.

Continuing to peer into the room, I saw the skin taking his time sniffin' my
neighbor's brief clad hole. After a few minutes, the guy in room 111 slowly
pulled his briefs down exposing a substantial shit load filling his ass crack
and lining a good part of his butt cheeks. The skin moved hungrily to the
raunchy chasm between the lobes, lapping long and slow several times at the
length of the turd-filled crack with his tongue... coating it completely with
this hot man's gut meat. The top casually interrupted this licking frenzy and
moved lithely over to the rim seat that I now saw fully displayed in an area
directly aligned with the door that connected our rooms. The skin knew his
place... quickly positioning himself beneath the seat just as the asshole of
this hot fucker descended to meet the toilet hole on his face.

I could now clearly see the man who was my motel mate next door. He was quite a
good-looking man, in his 40's as I had guessed, good body, smooth shaven with
piecing dark eyes. Hanging between his legs was a cock that looked to be almost
eight inches long, straight as an arrow, pleasantly thick, with an engorged
knob that demanded a hot, wet male mouth wrapped around it. Even from a
distance, I admired the piss slit... its size, its shape, and how nice a stream
of dick juice it must expel. The nut sack hung low, showing off a nice set of
balls that I thought must be carrying one hell of a shit-kicking cum load. It
was one beautiful fuckin' example of the gift the gods give a man. In fact, any
god in ancient Greece or Rome would have been flattered to be carved in stone
or cast in bronze, portrayed for all eternity with a dick like the one I now
saw dangling over this hot, young skin's pecs. I could only imagine how fuckin'
good it would feel to have this hot studs fuck pole up my tight ass.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed out loud in a low voice as I heard the familiar sound of
rubber on wet pavement.

I collected myself rapidly and reentered my own room.

My breathing was heavy, but I soon calmed down in the dark quiet. I thought
over and over about what I had just witnessed in room 111, how fucking hot it
had been, and pissed off that the car I had heard driving up had parked just
outside my room. I could hear the occupants of the vehicle entering the room on
the other side of mine, settling into their place of rest.

"Who the fuck gets a room this time of night?" I wondered, but remembered the
wreck on I-20. "Glad I stopped when I did, it must still be backed up out
there."

Again I heard the sound of male voices. Within minutes I had positioned myself
back at the base of the door which connected the two rooms. I could smell a
faint aroma of manstink wafting under the door. Lying on my side, I closed one
eye close to the floor for a good look. I could only see the soles of the feet
of the skin, legs spread wide and flat to the floor, and a trail that ran the
inside of his calves and thighs and led up to his balls. They bounced wildly
over the crack of his ass as he jacked his pole. I could see a dark trail of
hair that led from the underside of his scrotum and ran south, disappearing
before I could see it ringing his pucker. His chest obscured everything else. I
could only imagine what must have been taking place under that rim seat as I
watched his hairy nuts rise and fall, swinging from side to side. It was an
awkward position to even glimpse this, but I managed it as best I could,
jacking my own fuck stick for all it was worth.

The skin shifted his body slightly after a few minutes, lifting his knees up,
and placing his feet flatly on the carpet. The view shifted very little, but I
could now see his shit hole in this new position. Lightly dusted with hair, I
could see it pulsate in and out, slightly sticky and wet from the rhythm. And
his toes were now so close to the bottom of my door that I actually could have
slipped my fingers through the crack and touched them. I took in the sight with
relish. Watching the pink folds of his turd chute, mentally tracing each
millimeter with my tongue. I could see the nails of his feet and would have
given anything to get a taste of all that I was seeing.

As much as I enjoyed the sight, I sacrificed the visual for the olfactory. I
shifted my position now and moved my nose as close to the bottom of the door as
possible. There in the darkness, I breathed in and out, slowly and deeply with
my eyes shut. I recognized the scent... man shit. The aroma became stronger and
thicker coming from the next room. The voice of the top continued, but I still
couldn't make out the words. I could only hear the sound of slurping and
licking from the skin as he pigged out in the obvious object of his desire. I
got lost in the whiff and the sounds, for how long I don't know. My pecker was
dripping non-stop as I yanked continuously at it in this dream world of stink.

WHAM! The pain shot through my head like someone had shot me with a 9mm. I was
dazed for a moment, and when I came back to some sense of normalcy, I found
myself lying on the floor of my room, rock hard, and bathed in light. I had
never even thought that the door between the rooms might be unlocked (they
never were) or that it might be ajar just enough so that the skin's foot might
kick it open exposing my secret play.

A figure outlined in the light was looking down at me lying there naked and
dripping.

"And what the fuck do we have here?" I heard a voice say.

What the fuck could I say? I was plain ass busted!

"Er... uh," this was going nowhere. "Sorry man, I guess it got the better of
me," I confessed sheepishly, my head still reeling and embarrassed as hell to
be discovered in this compromising act. "I really didn't mean any harm."

"I'm sure you didn't, guy. But you'll understand that I'm a bit busy at the
moment," he said as he grinned somewhat sadistically. "Got a buddy I'm taking
care of right now, but I'm sure there'll be a little something for you later if
you want it."

He was definitely taking care of his buddy. The skin had lain there during this
entire exchange propped up on his elbows just outside of the rim seat. The hot
young fucker who had knocked on my door by accident not more that a half an
hour ago was now naked and tinged brown over almost his entire face, wearing,
like a mask, the waste of the man who stood above me. The look in his eyes was
one of drugged ecstasy.

"Sure... OK," I heard myself say before I had time to even think about forming
words.

The door closed, I heard the sound of the lock turn, and a towel went down on
the floor obscuring the crack. There I sat on the floor, now in total darkness,
with a stiff prick, the lingering smell of male shit permeating the room, and a
bruised ego to match what I knew the side of my face was going to look like in
the morning.

I flopped back on the bed with my heart racing. I was horny as hell after this
unexpected encounter. The strangeness of it turned me on even more, and I
turned my attention back to the throbbing boner between my legs.

Not more than five minutes passed when I heard a knock on the door between the
two rooms and saw that the light was coming through the crack yet again.

"Could I be mistaken?" I thought. "No." There it was again.

I rose from the bed and approached the door. "Yeah," I said.

"Can I talk with you a minute?" a voice came back.

"Sure, why not?" I answered somewhat shocked by all that was happening.

The lock made its click, and the door slowly opened to reveal the skin standing
there, still naked with his face still covered in shit. I must admit it was a
hot sight to take in.

"I talked with my friend, and he said it would be OK if you came and watched me
for a while. I want to show off to another guy how much of a pig I am for him.
Are you cool with that?" he queried unfazed by any modesty.

"Uh, sure... OK, I guess," I answered.

I stepped into the room a little behind the skin and saw that my neighbor was
now lying on top of the bed. The skin moved to the foot of the bed and pulled
the fucker's legs up exposing his shitter. It was still heavily covered with a
dark brown film. The skin immediately began to lick and rim the dirty crack as
I took my place in a chair near the front door. No other words would be spoken.
In fact, no one would even acknowledge the fact that I was there until this
play had been acted out. I just sat there beating my meat and taking in the
show. I was definitely into piss, but scat was not a scene I had ever gotten
into personally. True, I had been turned on big time watching raunch videos
with a good buddy of mine, but I had never seriously entertained the idea
myself. This was too much to pass up though.

The skin began his cleaning by lifting the well dumped in briefs up to his
face, inhaling deeply, and then he placed them over his head. He had the tops
turd meat firm against his nose, and he opened the flap in the front of the
briefs for his tongue. His view was from between the leg openings, but it must
have been adequate because he found his way easily to pay dirt. Sniffing fully
the dump still moist in the briefs, with his tongue alone working on the
fucker's shit hole, he was quite a sight. My cock was bobbing up and down on
its own just watching him. After he had done his best with the limitations the
briefs gave him, he removed them with an almost sad expression. This
disappeared when he got back to his business.

The skin licked long and hard in the filth before his toilet pig face. Little
by little the top's asshole and cheeks were becoming as clean as could be
expected. The skin worked hard since each time he licked that shit hole clean,
the shit on his face would mess up all his good work. He was like Sisyphus
pushing the stone up the hill, except that he didn't seem to mind the work at
all. His buddy helped from time to time by aiming his cock between his legs and
releasing some piss (both as a treat, I assumed, for his bottom to drink and
wear, as well as his own attempt to help out). The skin was patient and eager,
interrupting the job only to take long slow whiffs at his workplace. He also
moved periodically toward the feet of his employer taking in his foot stink and
licking and sucking on his soles and toes to break up the action and get a look
at how well he was progressing with his clean up job at the turd chute. All the
feces went straight down into the skin's own gut. Gut meat from one man meeting
the gut of another. Tomorrow, one man's shit would be that of another.

"How fuckin' hot and primal!" I thought. "Fuck... this pig really digs this
man's shit."

The top, all the while, watched intensely through his spread legs as best he
could at this cleaning, pausing from time to time to hit off a bottle of
poppers he kept by his side and to piss for the enjoyment of both. He, too,
seemed to be enjoying the janitorial skills of this skin's tongue and mouth.

The final attempt at a full cleaning found the skin standing and pissing on the
hole to further soften what shit was left and then proceeding once again to
lick the slick mixture of his own piss and his buddy's ass work and swallow it
far down into his own body. I have to admit he did a first rate, A-1 clean up
job.

I sat there amazed as I now watched the action at the now shiny clean pucker.
The skin tried for all he was worth to get his tongue in deeper and deeper
after he had finished the cleaning, all the while making lower and lower
guttural noises... it began to sound like the growls of an animal. The skin
would alternate with his nose buried up his buddy's ass canal sniffing at it
greedily like it was some kind of fine spice. The top's sphincter grabbed each
in turn and drew them in and out of himself rhythmically... fucking himself
with every part of this young guy's face. The skin would sometimes ring the
pucker with his lips and blow his shit breath deep into the bowels. Alternating
again from mouth to nose... tasting and sniffing the inner most reaches of this
hot stud as he farted ferociously into nose or mouth. The skin was in a fuckin'
dream world... you could tell. I could only imagine what must have been running
through his head.

This went on for some time until the skin suddenly got up and went over to the
bureau rummaging through all the gear that was there. From out of a plastic bag
he produced a very large, barely ripe banana. I could guess where this was
going to go. Sure enough, he peeled the banana, lubed it with his own spit as
he sucked on it like a cock, placed the tip at his buddy's anal shaft, and
began to insert it there. The hole had been worked loose by the tonguing it had
received, but the banana was still having problems getting in.

The skin then took his fingers, one by one, and stuck them up the rectum. The
first finger withdrew with quite a heavy coating of shit. He took the finger,
sniffed at it attentively, and, placing it on the top of his shaved head, he
appeared to draw the letter "J". I assumed this had some significance for him.
He licked the finger clean, then lubed two and back they went to their
objective. The fingers twisted in the shitter loosening the hole a bit more.
Withdrawing these two fingers, again he sniffed, licked them clean and lubed
them up with his spit for a try at three. This did the trick.

His attention then turned back to the banana. He placed it softly at the
entrance of the hole and began to slowly place it inside the canal until it
vanished completely from sight. The smell of poppers and manstink filled the
room as the skin again placed his mouth firmly against the opening between his
buddy's cheeks. After a minute or so the banana exited with surprising force,
filling the mouth of the skin and prompting an orgasmic cry from my next door
neighbor as he shot a hot fucking load of pearly white jiz all across his
stomach and chest. I had a hard time deciding which to watch, the streaming
jets of cum as they arched into the air from this hot mother fucker's dick or
the banana, now brown with ass slime, sticking out of the skin's mouth like a
huge cigar.

The skin leaned back on his haunches smiling impishly and showed his buddy the
browned fruit of his labors, licking and sucking off the dark juices like a
dick, and then consuming it with gusto as his meal. He then moved between the
top's legs, first draining every drop of spooge from the cock head with his
mouth, milking the prick with his fist to make certain he didn't miss a drop,
and then licking the stomach and chest until there was nothing left but a
glistening trail of his own saliva.

Rising to his feet, the skin's desire stood tall over him as he sat back on his
legs savoring the tastes of this fucker's body ooze. Staring at each other, the
skin opened his mouth wide for a long string of spit that hung from the lips of
the top, stringing viscously through the air like a spider's web laced with
drops of fresh morning dew. The skin was heady with the taste of shit, piss,
cum, and spit mingling together in his toilet mouth.

The sight and thought of this brought my own hard on to it's climax, and I shot
squirt after squirt of thick spunk onto the motel's carpet adding to the puddle
of precum that had been flowing there unnoticed for almost the last hour. I was
spent from this display. But, I was soon to find out that the action was far
from over.

The guy from 111 sat up now on the bed and lit a Winston Light from a pack
beside the bed.

"Did you save me any piss?" the skin asked.

"No, didn't have any time, just what's in the head," was the answer. I had
imagined that after all this play that the two men would somehow turn at least
a little of their attention toward me, but I was wrong. They continued to act
as if I were not there, not making eye contact even once as I sat in my
ringside seat by the door.

The skin now moved into the bathroom and squatted before the toilet. I could
see the white cheeks of his ass outlined by his tan as he lowered his head into
the bowl. He obviously wasn't finished yet! At first he seemed to be just
admiring the golden brew which I assumed he could see. I wasn't sure from my
vantage-point, and I certainly wasn't going to get up and chance spoiling this
bit of theatrics.

Then I saw the head bend even lower, disappearing below the porcelain rim, and
began to hear the lapping noises that were reminiscent of a very thirsty dog.
He reentered the main room, made a beeline for a pair of white athletic socks
that were slung loosely over the other guy's sneakers. Taking one of the socks,
looking as if they had seen several days wear, and brought it first up to his
nostrils, inhaling deeply at the foot-stink of his buddy. He seemed to get off
on this with the same enthusiasm he had shown while sniffin' butt.

Then, after he had exhausted the whiff, he went back to the toilet and dipped
the sock into the bowl, soaking it thoroughly. Standing with his back to both
of us in the room, he cocked his head back, held the dripping sock up and over
his open mouth, letting the yellow liquid enter. He then squeezed the sock
firmly until every bit of his buddy's dick juice had been rung out of it.

Sock in hand he moved to the tub. There he carefully unfolded the wet and
wadded sock and rubbed it over his head, face, and chest. Placing it in his
mouth and trying for all the world to suck out any remnants of piss that might
have remained. He then brought it down and over his own prick and began to
shoot his own stream of gold. I could see the sock begin to fill and then hear
the sound of his dick juice begin to drop into the tub. When he was satisfied
at the saturation, he pulled it from his cock and once again, this time facing
us, held it over his gaping mouth taking first the dripping moisture the sock
couldn't hold in its weave, and then squeezing it again like an orange to get
all the flavor he could.

His bud had finished the cigarette by now, all the while watching this pig's
piss play. He hit the poppers, moved into the bathroom, and stepped up onto the
sides of the tub standing tall and lean above the skin who now slid down into
the empty tub, still clutching tightly the now shit tinged and piss soaked
sock. The sliding of his body into the tub made a squishing, almost fart like
noise as the crevices of his body conformed tightly to the sticky wet bottom of
his new home.

I could see the top displaying that beautiful cock of his, now lengthening once
again, and aiming at the skin like he was some kind of carnival attraction. The
piss slit I had admired through the open drapes earlier didn't disappoint. A
strong, wide, forceful stream of yellow beauty began to exit his pole, arching
through the air in shiny beads that he aimed first at the smooth head and then
to the chest and crotch. The skin kept his mouth opened wide in hopes of
catching some of his desire straight from the source. His buddy helped him out.
I could hear the gurgling as my neighbor took aim at his face hole filling it
up once, twice, three times, as the skin swallowed hungrily to get all that he
could. I could see a second arc of yellow shooting above the rim of the tub,
bathing the skin in not only his buddy's glory, but also his own. Once both
streams actually found their home in the skin's mouth causing it to overflow
and drip sloppily from his chin.

"Too fuckin' much," I thought.

Both flows came to a stop. The top then turned around in the tub placing one
foot on the rim and the other inside, squatting slightly to spread the crack of
his ass to the full view of his buddy. The skin slid forward, placing his mouth
once again on the pucker, tonguing and licking intensely. I watched as the top
grunted a second course of his gut meat directly into the hungry hole. The skin
pulled back, mouth full of gut meat, and I was truly impressed as he chewed the
mouthful, and forcing the shit into his stomach with strong contractions of his
neck muscles. As he swallowed, more turd escaped the chute of the top landing
in the tub. As the skin chewed, he picked up this overflow in his hands and
began to smear it over his chest in broad strokes, turning his pecs into a
filthy brown mess.

That was all the shit in the pipe. After swallowing the entire load in his
mouth, my neighbor returned to be bed, lit another Winston, turned to the skin
who followed him like a pup and said, "Is my asshole clean enough to get on the
bed?"

"Turn around," was the reply. Then the skin repeated his clean up maneuvers.

The skin sat on the end of the bed wearing this motherfucker's waste and lit a
cigarette of his own.

"Well deserved," I mused.

"You must be getting tired from all your traveling?" the skin asked.

"Yeah, it's been a long trip and a lot of it on the road. Didn't get a good
night's sleep last night either," was the reply.

"OK... I'll finish this cigarette and split. Let you get some rest."

I was feeling a bit awkward by now and contemplated moving to the door back to
my room.

"Before I leave, can I have just one more taste of your hole?" the skin added.

The top slid sideways on the bed and lifted his legs. The skin was on his
shitter immediately. I took this as a great opportunity to leave. I got up,
went back to my room, and closed the door behind me quietly... the last memory
being the hungry growl of a pig in heaven. I could only imagine what might
happen in room 111 now.

It was early but light outside, and I knew it would be impossible to sleep. I
was less than two hours from home, so I took a long, hot shower, got my gear,
and checked out. I stopped by Burger King and grabbed a quick bite for
breakfast and then was back on I-20 headed for Birmingham. I passed the two
trailer tractors in a ditch beside the road a few miles later waiting like
sentinels to be towed away. My thoughts were shifting constantly back to the
night before. I was getting horny all over again.

At Anniston, I remembered a truck stop that had a reputation for cruising. I
could use the gas and a blowjob. I took the Oxford Road exit and pulled into
the Mapco. I got my gas and proceeded to the back of the building where the
restrooms were located. Most of the trucks had already left for an early
morning start, but you never know when you're going to get lucky.

I entered the men's room. There was a sink, two urinals that were partitioned,
and two stalls without doors running along the left wall. The place appeared
empty. The smell of these trucker's bathrooms always makes me hard, so I
decided to check the walls of the stalls for any hot graffiti and jack off if
nothing else. There were a few numbers above the urinals, but nothing really
work the yank. I looked in the first stall and found a few interesting scrawls
that got me hard. Turning into the second stall, imagine my surprise, was the
skin... sitting on the john with his shorts around his ankles with a boner in
his hands. He smiled.

"Hey buddy," I said.

"Hiya," was the reply.

I pulled out my own hard on and let him blow me. I came, pissed down his
throat, thanked him, and moved to wash my hands. He followed me to the sink.

"I can't help but ask you, buddy," I felt compelled to say after a moment, "did
you know that guy back at the motel?"

"Nah, he was just traveling through after a vacation in Florida."

"I only ask because you certainly knew your way around his hole," I grinned,
"thought you might have been at it before."

"Nope... met him on the Internet."

"Well, he was one lucky fucker to find a toilet pig like you out here," I
added.

"No, man," he replied, pausing oddly. Then with obvious sincerity in his voice
he said, "that's where you got it wrong... I'm the lucky fucker."

After this brief exchange, I got into my car, got back on the freeway, and
looked forward to hitting my own fuckin' bed. But, I certainly wasn't going to
forget Douglasville.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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