Pig in Palm Springs - 3. Chapter 3

I’m a little behind schedule because of the hot steam room encounter but it was totally worth it. Traffic is light as I make my way down the highway, singing along to my playlist.

I know my lead foot and excitement will make up for lost time.

My hand is permanently fixed on my crotch, groping my dick straining the fabric of my jock and shorts. Feeling the tightness on my skin from the two sticky loads drying on my skin and in my fur has kept my cock at attention. I know as my sweaty jock dries, the pouch will stay damp with the continuous flow of precum leaking. The trip is only about two and a half hours without traffic but I budgeted some extra time to arrive at 5 pm when I could check into my home for the next few days. I had a stop or two to make on the way.

It’s been about an hour and I have to piss like crazy - perfect timing. I take the exit my GPS alerts me to and continue on deserted, dusty side roads until I reach a rest stop and park my car in the mostly empty lot.

I had heard about this rest stop from an older guy I hooked up with once. It's been around for ages and used to be one of the busier stops for truckers heading north or south but has been mostly deserted for the new, quick stop on the highway. It still has a glory hole apparently which is the precise reason I wanted to go. There aren't many left other than the ones at bookstores but have never been brave enough to go to any close to me. Stopping at this rest stop would tick off one of my fantasies of anonymously draining a hot, rough and tough, raunchy trucker. Maybe even two or three while on my knees in a seedy bathroom.

I know there is a man pissing on my tanktop, but for good measure and to ease the pain in my bladder, I let a small bit of my own piss dribble out from my slit, causing the growing precum-soaked wet spot to expand significantly. I take a deep breath and make sure my car is locked before a quick glance down at my noticeable offense. The heat from the cracked sun-baked asphalt radiates up my legs as my feet nervously step towards the small one-story rest-stop.

I walk into the dated, dusty building and suddenly feel out of place. The way I’m scantily and almost obscenely dressed, although welcomes the wanted attention from those interested, is not the best thing to be dressed in around the ignorant, hateful bigots that are far too common still. Nothing about this establishment said it was a place visited by liberal, open-minded individuals. I instantly regret creating the exaggerated wet spot in my shorts and the blatant admission of fetish on my shirt.

The rest stop is half diner and half convenience store and the few people in there all look up at me when I enter. I look for a sign for the bathroom and feel the other patron's gaze on me until I go up to the register. There is an old burly man behind the counter who's eyes quickly dropped after seeing me approach.

“Hi, where is the restroom?”

“Outback,” he mumbles without looking up from the folded newspaper in his calloused hands.

I am relieved it’s outside so I can skip another round of judgemental stares on my way out to my car after I piss. The fantasy is slowly turning into a nightmare and I just want to get in and out without confrontation. I knew there was a risk of not every scenario playing out the way I had hoped and I had plenty of time ahead of me to find another way to check this item off my sexual bucket list. If I wasn't in such an urgent need to drain, I might even consider looking up another of the old cruising spots I heard about that were rumored to still be frequented by horny long haulers.

I open the bathroom door and am immediately hit with the overwhelmingly intense, acrid stench of dried piss as my eyes adjust to the dark men's room. This place looked and smelled like it hadn't been cleaned in months, maybe years. It was the perfect setting for a horror movie or a seedy porn, complete with flickering dull lightbulb. The latter might have been a turn-on if there wasn't such an unwelcoming greeting inside and my eyes weren't on the verge of tearing up.

I’m already unbuttoning my shorts as I walk past the sinks and three-person wide trough to stand against the wall. I fish my cock out almost just as my piss comes flooding from the slit, splashing my hand, shorts, and jock before I can aim my boner down. All the extra water during my workout had finally caught up to me and my strong stream echoes against the metal basin. I look down to see the wet splatters not only dampened the waist of my shorts but also the base of my shirt.

"Oh well," I sigh as the draining continues, even more relieved to be able to hop in my jeep and get the fuck out of there.

The door creaks open and I instinctively tense while my stream still runs steady. The bright sun from outside catches my periphery and a habitual glance in its direction reveals the silhouette of a broad-shouldered, bearded man. I turn my gaze back to the continued release but out of the corner of my eye, I see him approaching until he is standing right next to me, close enough that I can feel the wide sleeve of his t-shirt graze my arm and the warmth of his presence. My mouth goes dry from nerves but I can't help sneaking a quick glance at him while his hands fumble with his belt. He had a baseball hat pulled down past his eyes, leaving only his prominent nose and wild, unkept beard exposed. He had a thick broad chest and a big round belly. A few inches shorter than me I assessed based on how our arms lined up. My stream was still going strong as he whips out his soft cock, holding it in his tan calloused hand that is covered in tattoos connecting to a faded sleeve of skulls, flowers, and crosses on his forearm. I'm impressed with what he's holding, it must have been six inches soft at least and thick!

He holds it still, takes a deep breath, and releases a soft trickle of piss before shaking it around. I’m trying to look without being too obvious, wishing I hadn't always been too anxious to cruise at the urinals at gay bars, where it was safe to practice. His dick has started to firm but hasn't lengthened much. He gives himself an obvious stroke before turning, his dribbling dick head grazes my exposed thigh before walking into the stall. I always had a fear of how to know what to do in these situations and the unspoken rules of cruising, but this was pretty blatant and made it that much more exciting. I finally finish my piss and fold my cock into my jock as I turn towards the other stall.

True to the tale, there is a glory hole, and there is a hard six-inch cut dick with a big mushroom head sticking right through. 'Guess he's a shower, not a grower' I can’t help but think to myself while swirling my tongue around my dry mouth.

“I know what you’re here for faggot," I hear him whisper in a terse tone.

I don’t mind being called faggot in the right context but I’ve heard horror stories about failed attempts at risky behavior at places like this and I had a big empty house waiting for me to get nasty all around it. Was his average cock worth the risk?

I stand frozen with nerves until I see him flex his cock a few times and watch a thick bead of precum form at the tip. My hand is trembling but I can't stop myself from reaching out towards the cock poking through. I grasp the shaft lightly and hear a moan from the other side of the wall.

“Come on man, get your mouth on it!” he says, a bit more desperate than degrading this time.

Encouraged, I pull my body closer and crouch down. I can feel my heart beating in my throat as my lips are only inches away from the flared mushroom head. I lean forward and lick the gooey tip. His precum has mixed with the remaining drops of piss and tastes bitter but not too bad. The slutty pig emerging in me kind of likes it.

I keep going, starting with swirling my tongue around his head tasting its sweaty and salty flavor from being tucked away all day in the tight confines of his pants as he drove what I was imagining a giant eighteen-wheeler on this hot day. I wrap my lips around the head and start to him suck in further until I feel the fleshy tip against the curve of my throat and my nose is grazing the edge of the cutout.

“Yeah, that's it,” I hear from the other side of the thin barrier between us.

I keep going, bobbing up and down on this stranger's cock more aggressively, working further down it until I’m nose-deep in his sweaty pubes and the bridge is knocking against the chipped paint. I can smell him - naturally ripe - a total contrast from the men at the gym. It’s a strong, sweaty, manly odor fighting and blending with the stench of dried piss in the nasty bathroom. I am all sorts of turned on sucking hard as I feel him start to pump in and out of my wet drooling mouth.

He thrusts forward and I hold him in as far as he'll reach to massage him with my throat muscles, letting him use my mouth as he wants. My tongue strains from under his girthy shaft to taste his balls. I am so turned on and feel like a total slut as I suck on a stranger's sweaty cock in this seedy roadside restroom.

"Get my nuts," he moans.

He pulls his cock back and forces his full hairy balls through for me to service and I start slurping on them like an obedient pig. I can hear him moaning and mumbling the whole time I'm worshiping his sweaty sack, breathing in his stink and sucking the sweat from wiry hairs, wishing he would get nasty and verbal to add to this whole raunchy scene.

He pulls his nuts away and I press my face against the dirty hole with my open mouth and nose, eager to service, hungry for his load. Next thing I know I feel something thick and furry against my tongue and I realize it’s an ass cheek. I freeze and retract my tongue for a second as he positions himself so his dank, furry crack lines up with my face. I take a quick inhale and can smell his musky ripe ass. It's strong and earthy but not dirty. Perfect. I take a tentative lick. Then another and I keep going, building confidence with each swipe of my tongue that I won’t find any unwanted surprises.

I lap at his crack, trying to drive my tongue into his tight man hole.

“Fuck yeah faggot, eat my straight sweaty ass.”

He continues to groan loudly and grunt out words I can’t decipher. I can hear wet slapping and feel him humping back onto my tongue, grinding back on my face as he rapidly fists his dick. He’s really moaning as my tongue swirls around his hole then slides in and out with force.

All too soon the musky ass is gone. I feel the cool, stale air on my sweat and spit-covered face. I press harder against the hole with my tongue stretched out, panting and moaning like a thirsty whore, desperate for a reward for a job well done. And I get it, a hot blast of thick heavy cum hits my mustache. Then another small one right on my tongue followed by one last one that coats my bottom lip and runs down my chin.

“Fuck,” he mutters in satisfaction and I hear the rustling of his pants being pulled up.

I pull my face away from the hole, realizing he’s finished. What it lacked in volume it made up for in thickness. I lick my lips, and swallow the cream that made it into my mouth tasting the bitter flavor of his seed.

Reality sets in instantly when I open my eyes. I jump up and run out of the stall, not waiting around for any “straight boy regret” to be taken out on me. The man wasn't all that threatening and the few dirty words lacked cockiness but I wasn't going to take a risk to find out what his post-nut clarity might be. As I open the door to the outside I almost knock into another man.

I can only see a tall, broad, silhouette topped with a cowboy hat towering before me. The bright afternoon sun behind him is blinding after being in the dark filthy bathroom. I turn my cum coated, guilty face away, mutter an apology, and walk quickly back to my car.

Safely inside, I take a deep sigh of relief and turn the car on. I take a look at my face in the rearview mirror to see my mustache and chin shiny and dripping in the stranger's sticky jizz. There isn't much but what is there is so thick it stays intact, not spreading or running at all. Hopefully, the man I bumped into on my way out didn’t notice but honestly it doesn't matter now in the protection of my Wrangler.

I use the collar of my tank top to wipe off whatever my tongue can't reach so the collection of fluids can build before turning the car on. I check the mirror again and chuckle at the red lines circling around the bridge of my nose, cheeks, and chin from forcing my face into the dirty glory hole. I turn the AC full blast, feeling a bit overheated, and pull out of the parking lot back toward the highway.

I continually check my rearview mirror as I make my way back along the dusty side roads to make sure I wasn't being followed. An eighteen-wheeler pulled out behind but I’m far enough away that I don’t think I have to worry, right?

I’m sitting forward, clutching the steering wheel, eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the road ahead when I burst out laughing just as I merge back onto the highway.

“You are really leaning into this, you thirsty slut!” I say out loud and finally relax in my seat.

As I cruise down the highway I start to replay what just happened. The rough, ripe, bearded, tattoo-covered trucker. The seedy bathroom. The random cock. Licking a furry hole. Getting a thick load on my face.

It's exactly what I hoped for.

Well, almost, but enough to keep my cock hard and dripping as I drove.

--