The motorway stretched out darkly before my headlights. A quick view of the fuel meter told me it was time to pull over at the next services area before I ended up walking the rest of the way to Scotland.
I was in the rental car I had picked several hours before at Heathrow and was headed up to a little rendezvous in Scotland. Business mixed with pleasure. I had stopped a few times earlier for some munchies and petrol, but I guess time had just slipped away from me on the drive. It had gotten darker and the sky was just entering those last longing moments of daylight called the gloaming.
The landscape was beautiful - if not a little deserted.
Fortunately after another twenty minutes I happened upon a little hole in the wall petrol station. The motorway was completely deserted, but the lights of the station were bright and welcoming.
I got out and after fiddling with the damn pump for a moment finally got the juice flowing.
It was then that a car roared to a stop at the pumps opposite to mine. Now I can act as straight as the next jock, but I don't know jack shit about cars. Just never that interested I guess. I did know enough to realize it was a 'muscle car' and that it sure wasn't typical for these parts.
The driver got out. My heart skipped a beat.
He was one long tall drink of water. His back was to me as he stepped out of the car. I watched the black leather of his jacket and it bunched and stretched over his broad shoulders. As he turned to look over the pumps I saw his face in profile. His strong firm jaw, slopping softly enough to avoid appearing too hard, complemented his handsome face. His thick delicate lips, far to luscious to belong on a man were far more suited for a woman. They were actually pretty.
His dark hair was styled just right, but with enough strands out of place to make it look really cool, and just enough curl to make my pulse faster. I couldn't see his eyes for the dark shades he wore (as late as it was) to complement the bomber jacket.
He bent in to select his nozzle and leaned forward enough for me to see his tight jeans painted on the curve of his finely shaped ass.
I think my mouth may have actually been watering at that point.
He turned around and put his nozzle into tank and it was only then that he seemed to notice me standing at my own vehicle. He appeared to be looking right at me, but I wasn't sure with the shades on.
I thought to myself, 'Man, you have got to pull yourself together.'
The clanking noise of my pump stopping brought me shockingly back into reality. As straight acting as I could possibly be, I swaggered over to the door to pay the attendant. I gave him the stranger a nod as I passed, which he smoothly returned.
Trying to put him out of my mind, I paid the cashier the money I owed him. I was momentarily put off by the price of petrol and the rude behavior of the attendant. The guy was pretty young, in his early twenties presumably, and handsome in a cold sort of way. If I could have gotten past his unpleasant demeanor I would have liked his red hair. He probably had some Irish in him somewhere.
On the other side of the counter I absent-mindedly adjusted my package and realized I was starting to pack a water woody from all that I'd drunk earlier in the car. I looked around for the john and found it on the far side of the station.
As I walked to the bathroom door I noticed the guy was walking in towards the main door. I tried to steal a casual glance without making it look like I was watching him.
The john in this place, like most public bathrooms in petrol stations, had seen better days. On the wall near the door was a machine offering a choice of extra safe condoms or ribbed condoms for extra pleasure each for a pound. Well my pocket was jingling with pound coins, but alas there wasn't an eligible lass or lad waiting for me. There were two rusty urinals that looked more like holes in the wall than the ones I was used to in the States. At the far end was a stall with the toilet.
I chose the urinal closest to the door, and with great relief took out my pecker for a nice long piss. It wasn't five seconds from the time that my hot stream had hit the porcelain, than the guy gave the bathroom door a mighty swing and swaggered over to the other urinal. I heard him unzip and in a second his stream began to flow as well.
"Nice night for it," he said jokingly, in this sultry low voice and with an accent I couldn't quite place - somewhere in England I guessed.
"Yeah," I managed to mumble back to him.
I wanted desperately to look over at his outstretched equipment, but I had no clue what might happen if I did. I wasn't really looking for any kind of fight tonight.
When I could no longer resist I glanced as casually as possible over at him only to see that he was unashamedly looking over my equipment!
I was so shocked at first I couldn't find the any breath to form a coherent word. His green long lashed eyes lingered into mine for a moment before returning their piercing gaze at my now stiffening cock.
I was still embarrassed by my display, but his erotic behavior was turning me on more and my dick hardened more rigidly.
He moved in towards me, his flaccid penis hanging out from his tight jeans. I wasn't really looking at it though, because he had me fixed in his sights by this time. Those gorgeous green eyes were hypnotic. Gracefully he was managing to corner me against the door, and I was letting him.
Now I'm not a small boy. I played football in high school and in college, but this guy was my equal and more. I felt like a hooker in a bar full of sailors. He put his hand against the door so that his arm blocked my only avenue of escape. As if I even wanted to leave. My mind was still reeling from the surge of adrenaline. I still knew nothing about this guy and I wanted to avoid some violent scene. My heart on the other hand was aching to stay.
His free hand reached down to caress my now raging boner. His meaty hand firmly encircled my thick dick. His thumb gently massaged the underside of my massive mushroom head.
There was not point in trying to stop anything now. He was not to be denied and I didn't have the will or the desire to try.
I melted into him as he pulled me in to kiss him deeply and firmly on the mouth. His strength jerked me like a rag doll against his powerful body. Our lips and tongues were desperate to devour and taste each other's mouths.
I desired him desperately, I needed him now, and I wanted him here. His kisses had long put all thoughts of propriety out the window.
"I want to be thoroughly fucked," I moaned in his ear. I began clawing at his clothing trying to get off his jacket and shirt. His hands slipped under my t-shirt to grope at the muscles of my chest.
I got his jacket off and it fell to the floor, flowed by my shirt. Why the hell was he wearing a button down shirt under that jacket? He and I fumbled for what seemed like hours trying to undo all the little buttons. Soon we were both standing in our jeans, sporting mammoth erections and admiring each other's bodies. He was a magnificent piece of work, built like a sculpture with classical lines. I wanted to get to know the feel and shape of every muscle.
He was in total control of the situation. He reached into his pocket and took out some shiny gold pound coins and walked over to condom dispenser and got some packets of the extra safe.
