Date: Sun, 30 Aug 2015 22:22:04 +0000
From: Bruce Demosthenes <sourceskid@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dominated by the boy next door 16

Try to give $1 per rope of cum you shoot reading my stories (any more ask
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***

At the end of our sojourn through this wildlife park I was once again
reminded home how young Peter was.  They had, just before you left the
park, a sanctuary for recued animals and babies of the park residents.  So
you could can get out of your car and go up close to the baby deer and
peter them and feed them.

Seeing Peter giggling as the deer ate out of this hand and the having me
take pictures of him with them on his phone was both sweet and
uncomfortable.  I liked seeing him happy so I didn't regret the long drive
and the cost of entry (which was not cheap) to this park.  I had feelings
for this boy.  But because I had feelings, seeing him act like a boy (with
other boys and girls who were behaving the same) made me feel like a letch.
I was basically at a petting zoo with an underage boy who I had just sucked
off in the car with probably the parents of some of these baby reindeer
watching.

On the drive back I drove.  Peter too excited to demand to drive or even
think of it.  He recounted all the fun things and the disappointments (more
of the former).  One of the biggest disappointment was we ran out of
carrots (even though we bought two bags).  We actually ran out of carrots
when Peter fed the reindeer through the window as I was doing up his pants
after having sucked him off.  And there were a few animals we didn't get to
see because they were small or not near the road when our car was in their
area.

I had come to know there were various dimensions to Peter.  The two most
extreme were the one with edge who was dominant, even sadistic, and the one
who is just a typical teenage boy.  I guess Peter compartmentalizes things
(which makes sense, since he is a straight boy being blown by an older gay
man).

When we passed a truck stop on the highway he suddenly changed from this 16
year old giddy with joy at having been at an animal park to the serious
young man who was obsessed with sex.  He asked if I thought all truckers
were gay, I guess being reminded of the trucker who had given his a thumb
up when he saw me blowing him on the way to the park.  I said that I didn't
think so, probably just 10 percent like the entire population, but then
added that even straight guys who are on the road for days on end wouldn't
pass on the offer of a blow job.  This made sense to him, not surprisingly,
and I told him I had heard that truck stops were notorious cruising spots,
though that may not be true or not true anymore.

When he asked what cruising spots were I said they weren't as frequent as
before, since now with smart phones there were apps like Grindr where you
could find guys nearby and hook up for sex.  But back in the day, there
were specific washrooms or parks that were isolated and guys knew to go
there for sex.  In the case of parks you would walk up and down the paths,
past guys who were leaning against trees or also walking by and if you saw
someone you liked you would let them know and then you would either have
sex right there, where other people could watch or join in or you would go
deeper into the trees with him and have sex privately.

"Did you do this," he asked.

"I used to back when it was a thing, they have mostly disappeared," I said.
"The internet and now mobile apps was much less risky since sex in a public
place is illegal."

"How does it work at a truck stop," Peter asked.

"I don't know, I have never been," I said.  "But in a washroom you stand at
a urinal and when a guy is standing next to you and has been there for a
while and isn't peeing you glance over and if he is stroking or checking
you out you take it to the next level either right there or go into one of
the stalls."

"What if the guy wasn't a fag like you," he asked.  "Did you ever get
punched out?"

I hadn't realized we were talking about me but since we now were I obliged
with answers. "There were certain washrooms that were known to be cruising
areas; they tended to be in low traffic areas like a basement of an office
building or at the less busy end of a mall or in a university library's
reference floor.  Or certain times of day, like mid- or late-afternoon when
people are back at work or have gone home, a washroom would be more cruisy.
But I never stood at the urinal since I have a small cock."

"I've noticed," said Peter, never being one to miss an opportunity to
humiliate me and making me turn bright red with embarrassment in the
process.

Since this had caused me to stop talking Peter got me back on track by
asking "so what did you do since it is obvious a fag like you would hang
out in washrooms and suck off strangers."

He wasn't wrong so I continued.  "I would go into the stall.  I would go
right as the lunch crowd was dying down and I would take the middle stall
and wait.  Eventually guys would come in looking for sex.  I could see them
going into the stalls on either side of me and if one was cute, once they
were settled and it was obvious they weren't there to use the toilet, I
would move my foot towards him and then if he did the same towards me, I
would then tap my foot and if he responded likewise I knew he wanted to
have sex.  Then I would either beckon for him to slide his knees under the
divider or sometimes one of us would write on a piece of toilet paper a
note and agree to go his place and then we would could fuck."

"Figured you would be there to suck off guys," he said with contempt.  "You
are such a fag."

"If we went to his place I was usually the one doing the fucking," I said
defensively.  "It's just when it comes to oral I prefer to be the one
sucking."

"Is that because you have a puny cock," he said, causing me to turn red
again.  "Cause I doubt it gets bigger if you are fucking as opposed to
being sucked."

"Sort of, at least in a public washroom," I was forced to admit.  "I also
cum fairly easily and if I am being sucked the guy will just stop, but if I
am fucking without a condom I can keep going and cum two or three times in
a row."

"Why did you want me to fuck you then if you like to fuck," he asked,
genuinely interested.

"Because as I got older I discovered I occasionally like a cock in my ass,
especially if it is a big one," I said.  "And yours is very big and I
wanted you to fuck me with it like you fuck my mouth."

This seemed to please Peter, though he was silent for a while.  Then he
asked "do you think a truck stop works like the washrooms you hung out in?"

"I think it would probably be about cruising not having sex because the big
18 wheeler trucks have sleeping compartments.  They wouldn't need to have
sex in the washroom.  They probably just pick-up in the washroom and go
back to the cab of the truck for whatever you both are looking for," I
said.  "But I honestly don't know

Peter again didn't say anything for a while until we came upon the next
truck stop on the highway and he told me to pull in.

I really didn't like where this was going.  Sex in a public washroom was
dangerous at the best of times.  But Peter was underage.  If we got
arrested it wasn't just going to be a fine and public humiliation but
prison.  And then when the police found out I was supposed to be
responsible for him while his parents were away they would begin to ask
more questions and the whole scope of my debauchery could come out, ruining
me, costing me my job and sending my away to prison for a long time.  And I
had heard that prisoners are rough on gays, and especially rough on people
charged with having sex with a minor.

Plus I had no idea how a truck stop worked.  I had sex in washrooms when I
was younger and lived downtown in various cities but I knew those washrooms
and had spent a lot of time figuring out the code of what to do and when to
do it to indicate I was interested and find out if they were.  Each
washroom had different practices.

I had no clue how this washroom would work or even if it was a cruising
place.  And truckers were burly guys.  I didn't know what Peter was
thinking but if it involved my hitting on a trucker and that person wasn't
interested then I could be seriously beaten.

"Go do reconnaissance as I full the car up with gas," he said.

I pulled up to the one pump that had ordinary gasoline.  We both got out.

"You need to pay," said Peter, before I went to the washroom.  I went to
the pump, ran my Visa through, set it to fill up and entered my pin.

Walking towards the washroom I took a look around.  There were two trucks
parked in the parking lot.  There was no restaurant, which was a good thing
as that reduced the chances of families being here and children walking in
(children other than Peter I thought to myself) because they had to go to
the washroom before they got back on the road.

There was a little mini store with one cashier where you could get oil,
windshield washing fluid, and other truck related supplies, as well as
chips, pop, sandwiches and other food items.

The washrooms were in behind the mini store building with one door on the
outside marked male and female.  Maybe it was just a single unisex washroom
that you needed a key from the cashier to open.

When I turned the knob it opened to a inside room with a door to the men's
on the left and one to the women's on the right, with a water fountain in
between.  There was no camera surveillance which was promising.  The fact
that there was an outside door and then an inside door was very good
because when the outer door opened, assuming this was a multiple urinal and
stall washroom that people had sex in, it gave advance warning so they
could do up their pants if at the urinal or get back up on toilet if they
were having sex in the stall.

I decided to open and close the door to the women's washroom so if the two
truckers were both men and having sex in the men's washroom then they would
think that the outer door opening just was a woman and think it was safe to
resume whatever they were doing.

After I waited a few minutes I then opened the door to the men's washroom.
Sure enough, one guy had his knees pushed under the stall divider and was
being blown by the other guy who was on his knees on the floor.  Hearing
the door open they scrambled to get back on their respective toilets.

I quickly looked around at the washroom layout and then left, going back to
the car which Peter had moved and parked near the two trucks.

"So," he asked, when I got in the car.

"There are three toilet stalls and three urinals across from them and there
were two guys in the two stalls furthest from the door and one was blowing
the other," I said.

"God you fags are something," he said with the sound of disgust as well as
eagerness in his voice.

He thought for a minute and then, once he had decided on his plan, said "go
back in there and stand at one of the urinals.  When I come in you pretend
you don't know me."

Even though I had scoped out the place and it seemed safe, it was still sex
in a public place and that is never totally safe.  Sex in a public place
with an underage boy and with two truckers in that bathroom.  Even if they
had been having sex themselves, they were truckers and the quick glance I
got of them before they scrambled to get off the floor, I knew them to be
pretty big and they were probably tough.  I couldn't protect Peter, let
alone myself.

But he had given me instructions and I get out of the car.  As I walked to
the washroom I wondered: what was Peter thinking would happen?

What would happen?

There were so many unknowns and this was a risky proposition when I did it
when I was younger in cruising places I knew well.

The opening and closing of the outer door (and probably my having caught
them before so they were extremely nervous) meant that when I opened the
inner door the two guys were sitting on their respective toilets.  I went
to the middle urinal and undid my pants.  I have always been pee shy, so it
too me a while before I could actually pee, which I decided to do since I
was at a urinal already.

When I finished peeing I continued to stand there.

After a while Peter came in and went to the urinal next to me (he didn't
have a choice, since there were only three and I was at the middle one).  I
could see in my peripheral vision him pull out his big cock.  Unlike me, he
began to pee right away and it sounded like an impressive stream.

I couldn't help myself, I had to glance over and see what his cock looked
like with a piss coming out of it.

"What the fuck are you doing," Peter said, sounding shocked at my having
looked at his cock while he was peeing, which maybe he was (watching
someone pee is kind of kinky).

"Who me," I defensively said, "nothing!"  There was genuine surprise and
fear in my voice, feeling guilty I had glanced at his cock while he was
peeing.

"You just looked at my dick man," Peter said angrily.

"No I didn't," I said, not liking the way this was unfolding.  What if one
of the truckers decided to come to Peter's defence?  What was Peter
thinking?

"Yea you did, are you a fucking fag," Peter said with even more edge as he
turned to face me and I turned to face him, a genuine look of shock on my
face.

When he gave my chest a shove I said forcefully with growing panic, "I
wasn't looking."

"You are a fucking fag," said Peter as he kept pushing me back towards the
back wall where the sinks were and then putting his hands on my shoulder he
shoved me onto my knees, and then shoved his big cock into my mouth.

Holding the back of my head, which he didn't need to since with the sink
behind me I couldn't move my head back any further, he moved his hips
mostly in a circular motion, forcing his cock which was stuffed fully in my
mouth to start to expand.

I struggled to let it expand down my throat as he held my head and rotated
his hips.  It didn't take long and he was fully hard and I was choking on
his big cock.

I tried reaching up to indicate he needed to back off.  I needed to come up
for air.  But this caused him to let go of the back of my head, which was
actually stopping it from hitting the sink.  He grabbed a handful of my
hair and started to thrust his now rock hard cock deeper down my throat
over my gasps, pushing the back of my head against the hard sink.

"Shut up and take it," he said as I continued to gag, both my hands
pressing against his hips to try to stop the onslaught.  But he kept
burring it fully down my throat, my nose hitting his pubes, my head trapped
between him and the porcelain sink.

"Yea" Peter said and then, after a while he said to himself, "yea, you like
that big dick don't you," continuing to fuck my throat with my head held in
place by the sink behind me and the handful of hair he had grabbed.

I didn't realize it at the time, because I was trying so desperately to get
air, but he had used the hand furthest from the toilet stalls to grasp my
hair and had pulled up his shirt with the other hand so the two truckers
could see his smooth stomach, trimmed pubes and big cock going down my
throat.

"Tell me you like it," he commanded.

"Do you like it," he demanded again louder and moved his cock back enough I
could get it out of my mouth. I actually had to turn my head sideways to
get him out of my mouth because I was so pinned between him and the sink.
I gulped down some air, "I like it", I swallowed had and tried to force my
gag reflex under control as Peter let go of his shirt and reached down and
shoved his cock back into my mouth and down my throat.

Peter then placed both hands on the sink and resumed thrusting his cock
down my throat as my head rested against that hard white sink.

As he held onto the sink and fucked my throat he variously "oh yea, suck my
dick" and "suck my cock".

Then, once again he grabbed my hair again and began to fuck my mouth
harder.

"Gag on it," he said which I was ended up doing anyway he was being so
forceful.

At one point he thrust so hard I had to pull off of his cock (by turning my
head sideways) and grab some air before getting back on it.

As he continued to talk like this, alternating between holding onto the
sink and holding my hair, he fucked my mouth and throat for what seemed
like ages.

The he finally said "take my big load" and Peter began to cum down my
throat.

Up until this point all you could hear in the washroom was the sound of my
gagging and him moaning and saying 'suck my cock', but now that he was
still, just his ccok down my throat pulsing, sending his load directly into
my stomach, I could hear the two truckers fiercely jacking their cocks in
the two stalls.  They each wanted to orgasm before Peter pulled out of my
mouth and was gone.

I guess Peter was feeling generous because he stayed with his cock down my
throat after he had finished cumming to give them something to look until
they each audibly came (almost at the same time) sitting on their toilets
staring at this blond boy with his cock down someone their age's mouth.

Pulling his cock out of my mouth Peter said "thanks faggot", did up his
pants and left, me still kneeling in front of the sink.

As this had started with me peeing at the urinal, my cock had been out of
my pants the whole time.  So these guys had seen small cock, which was soft
through the entire experience, given the pain at having my throat raped,
adding to my humiliation.

Not wanting to face these truckers or know what they look like I shoved my
soft cock back into my pants, scrambled to my feet and ran out of the
washroom and to the car, where Peter was behind the wheel.

Jumping in the passenger seat I said "drive!"

Peter laughed, put the car in gear and turned back onto the highway.

As the truck stop was not far from our city, we were home in about 30
minutes, Peter laughing almost the entire way.

END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

***