Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. It contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are under the age of 18, if such material offends you or if it's illegal to view such material in your community please do not continue. All sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.
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Jeff had been driving this route for 4 months now, which was 4 months longer than he'd intended. Generally, his clients were all within a 20-mile radius of his house, but this was a key engagement for his company, so he'd agreed to travel temporarily. One week had soon given way to one month, which morphed into three, and now it looked like he might be coming down here for as many as nine. Bonus and per diem aside, this was really starting to suck. His girlfriend had come down a few times so that they could have a long weekend on the company, but during the week he was pretty much on his own.
Early on in the assignment, he'd decided that if he was going to make this damn trip at all, he sure as hell was going to do it in comfort. He adopted a standard travel attire of a t-shirt and loose fitting, high cut gym shorts, even if he left from the office rather than his apartment. He'd been working out like a madman in preparation for beach season, so any t-shirt he choose stretched tightly across his chest, showcasing rather than hiding his well muscled chest and the chiseled ripples of his stomach.
Also, he usually didn't bother with underwear or shoes. The drive was over three hours if there was no traffic, and if he had to stop it was usually in some backwater town that didn't care what he had on anyway. And it felt good to let his cock, an easy 7" flaccid, hang free during the ride. He just had to remember to adjust his shorts before he went into a restaurant or gas station, otherwise people might see a little more than they bargained for.
Since the summer season had started, he'd been lucky enough to leave in the afternoon during the week, avoiding the beach bound traffic. So of course, the first time he left on a Saturday afternoon, he was surprised to find that traffic slowed to standstill 30 minutes outside the city. It probably wouldn't have been so bad, except he'd downed a 32 ounce bottle of water before he left his house, expecting to be well on his way before he would need to go to the bathroom. After an hour, he was searching the road signs frantically for a place to relieve himself before he ruined his car. Unconsciously, he reached down to squeeze his cock, as if he could somehow hold back the building pressure that was threatening to spray piss all over his dashboard any minute.
An added advantage to his attire was easy access to his package; sometimes during the ride, when the road wasn't too crowded, he'd play with his cock while he drove, giving the soccer moms driving SUVs and minivans an impromptu show. The knowledge that other people could see him kept him rock hard, and he was now at a point where he could stroke himself for the whole ride down, nearly 3 hours, without cumming. Of course, whenever he teased himself like that, even before he checked into the hotel he would drive into town and find some chick who'd had a little too much to drink and drill the shit out of her, letting loose a gallon of cum, his cock crammed deep in her while she choked back her cries and other evidence of arousal.
His cock hardened instantly, unaware that this wasn't one of his usual exhibitionist displays. He closed his eyes as a warm feeling spilled over him, delighted at the feel of it thickening. The blare of horn brought him back as his car began sliding into oncoming traffic. He'd been so horny lately! He couldn't remember a day in recent memory when he hadn't cum two or three times, sometimes just from jerking off, sometimes from a hot and heavy fuck session, and frequently from a combination of both. The dull ache in his balls and groin was soon competing with the urgent need to pee, providing a painful yet pleasant distraction to the traffic, as well as his dilemma. Several people beeped to show their appreciation for his show, but Jeff was concentrating too much on the conflicting stimuli to notice.
Mercifully, he finally spotted a sign for a rest area just below West Point. Trying to stay in control he maneuvered toward the exit ramp, glad that he wouldn't have to try to use the bathroom in a restaurant or shop. There was no way he was getting his prick back in his pants before he'd be able to get into the bathroom.
Pulling into the parking lot, he jumped out of his car, and padded barefoot toward the restrooms. His cock jutted out in front of him, the cockhead purple, the shaft slick with precum and pushing the leg of his shorts aside. He wouldn't be able to pee if he stayed this hard, but he could get positioned so that when he softened he'd be ready to go. A few tourists averted their eyes in embarrassment as he passed, but Jeff was in no condition to be embarrassed himself.
He felt the pressure build to near explosion as his mind registered that his objective was in sight. He increased his pace to a half-walk/ half-jog, lunging for the first unlocked stall, grateful that he'd been able to hold out as long as he did. Crime was not really a problem in this part of the country, and the rest stop had escaped most of the "modernization" that had claimed similar facilities. All of the stalls still had doors, a rarity in this day and age because muggers had taken to hiding behind them and preying on innocents. Also, the stall walls stretched from floor to ceiling, providing privacy as well as a modicum of soundproofing, allowing a person to do their business in relative solitude.
As the door swung open, he stopped in his tracks; two guys were crammed inside. One stood on the seat of the toilet, squatting, while the other, facing away from Jeff, was licking the shaft of the first man's cock. It was amazing that he could reach it; the man was much taller than Jeff (who only stood 5'4", making his substantial cock look enormous), at least 6'3" or 6'4", and almost as broad as the stall. He bent easily from the waist, as if he was hinged. Both men were able to keep quiet enough that from the outside, you'd have no idea what was going on.
"Oh e-e-e-excuse me," he stuttered embarrassedly, standing transfixed in the entrance to the stall.
He didn't move, and neither did the men in the stall, save for the slow steady licking. He'd never seen two guys going at it before, and couldn't help staring. The guy up on the toilet looked like he was average height, also taller than Jeff but probably not more than 6', with sandy blonde hair cut shaggy and a thick goatee. His eyes were closed and his breathing was labored as the other man continued to coat his cock with saliva. He had his arms spread wide to brace himself against the sides for balance, and Jeff could see that he was straining to keep from thrusting his hips at the other man's face, an action that surely would have toppled him. He had on a baggy t-shirt and his jeans were pulled down far enough that the other man could get at his cock.
The man doing the licking was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that looked like a second skin, but then again, they probably didn't make many clothes big enough to cover him properly. His hair was black and cut military short, but Jeff couldn't see his face. His neck and arms were deeply tanned, and he stood with one hand bracing himself against the back wall while the other did something in front of him that Jeff couldn't see. The muscles on his arm (and everywhere else, Jeff suspected) were thick and rigid, obviously the result of exhaustive hours in the gym. Where Jeff was more lean and tight, this guy was huge, bear like, with the kind of build that even science can't help you get without a healthy dose of genetics. As he continued to survey the action in the stall, the man on the toilet opened his eyes and looked at Jeff. They were a watery brown, not exactly vacant, but not overly sharp or intelligent either.
"Either come in and join us or get the hell out. I'm not interested in giving the whole room a show," he growled huskily, his irritation tempered by his arousal.
