Date: Mon, 15 Oct 2012 13:08:42 -0500 From: Douglas Marx Subject: The Trunk; Story codes: M, MM, ds, mc, ws, mast Disclaimer: This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults as defined in your jurisdiction. Erotic fiction is illegal in certain states and countries. It is the reader's responsibility to understand local laws. By getting this far into nifty.org, the reader acknowledges his/her legal right to be here. The reader will hold nifty and/or the author harmless. Warning: This erotic fiction contains sexual experiences between fictional males only that are over the age of 18. If this is not your thing, leave now. Furthermore, the events depicted in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental. Remember: In real life, play as safe as possible preferably no exchange of bodily fluids. My stories are copyrighted. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to douglas.marx.4@gmail.com. Support nifty.org. I have shot many a load reading the stories here and I bet you have too. Show appreciation at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Thank you. Please enjoy. Story codes: M, MM, ds, mc, ws, mast The Trunk God I was tired. I had been driving for hours. It was now around three AM and I had to pee bad, plus I needed to just get out of the car. I was driving on a four lane state road, not an Interstate and I was getting concerned about finding a rest area. Suddenly, I was in luck. There was a sign for a rest area in 1 mile. I pulled into the small place, just big enough for a few cars and maybe a semi or RV. There was a restroom, thank God, with some picnic tables in the woods behind the building. The rest area was poorly lit, one light at the entrance from the road and one light over the building. That meant only part of the parking lot had any light on it. The light did extend out to the picnic tables, which is why I knew they were there. I got out of my car, stretched, cursed myself for driving so long without a break, and walked over to the rest room. The door to the women's faced the parking lot. The door to the men's was facing the woods on the backside of the building. Too tired to think anything of it and needing to piss, I walked into the men's room on the opposite side. I pulled out my cock and started an intense stream. I had so much piss stored in my bladder that the release sent a wave of shivers through my body. I yelled out, "Oh God!" Just as I was finishing, I heard the door open. That scared me. I thought who else would be along at this time of night. I was shaking out my dick getting ready to put it away when this Italian God walked up to the urinal. He pulled out a slong at least 8 inches soft. I couldn't help but look and I was too tired to think that I was doing anything wrong. He turns his head to me and says, "Like what you see, faggot." "Oh, I'm sorry Sir. I didn't mean anything by looking. I'm just so tired I'm not thinking clearly. I apologize." Next thing I know he grabs the neck of my t-shirt and pushes me against the metal stall wall. "No need to apologize faggot, I got a big dick and fags like big dicks. It's only natural." "Sir, please. Let go of me. What are you doing?" He spits in my face and says, "I wanna see you naked faggot. I wanna see what I'm gonna get." He took his big, meaty paws grabbing the neck of my t-shirt ripping it completely off me in one pull. Now, I was scared. This guy was strong and he could do whatever he wanted to me because I am weaker and not a fighter. "Well, look at the pretty faggot. You're just the cutest little faggot I've seen in a while." He takes one of my nipples and twists it hard as I scream. "Get the rest of your fucking clothes off now faggot. I ain't got all night to examine my new boy." Now, I am uncontrollably crying but I do as he says. I unbutton my jeans shucking them and my underwear down in one fell swoop. I kick off my sneakers and pull off my socks followed by the pants. "Sir, what are you going to do to me?" He spits in my face again. "I said, faggot, I want to see what you got. Looks pretty good for a pussyboy cocksucker. You are a pussyboy cocksucker, aren't you fag?" I could not believe my answer, "Yes Sir, I am a pussyboy cocksucker." I bowed my head. Why would I admit that to this man? Why is my cock so hard? Why is this happening? "That's what I thought. You are a pussyboy cocksucking faggot. I can spot them a mile away and I got lots of them." Everything was happening so fast I didn't have the presence of mind to put together some of the pieces of his words to me. "I wanna see what I'm gonna get." "...examine my new boy." "...I got lots of them." I just went along hoping that I would be able to get away from him at some point. Yet, I couldn't help but notice how incredible he was. He was 100% Italian decent; no question. The muscles on his body were pushing at his clothes. He had a big nose that clearly had been broken at a few times probably in fights. He was still clothed, but he had his dick out and it was impressive flopping around as he forced me to remove my clothes. "Come with me." He took me out the door of the men's room and back to the picnic area. There he threw me on the ground and said, "You know, with all the excitement of meeting my new pussyboy, I haven't pissed yet. Open your mouth faggot." I opened wide. I wanted it. I wanted his warm yellow recycling center down my throat. He started aiming at my mouth, but eventually he pissed all over my head and all down the front of my body. When he was done, he spit again in my face. "I like to mark my new meat, fucker. Now grab your dick and jerk it off looking at me." I did as I was told. This I wanted. I wanted to jerk looking at this man. It was like being at home in front of my computer, but this was live. "I wanna see if my new fag has the spunk. Come on fucker. Look at me. Look at your hot Master. Wouldn't you love to have this? Wouldn't you love to touch this incredible body? Wouldn't you love to be with this all the time? What would you give to have a real man in your life, faggot? What would you give? Come on queer. Jack that pussy cock. Jack it. Let me see you shoot a fag load. Worship me fucker. That's all you are good for, worshiping a real man. Taking care of a real man. Being at a real man's disposal. Not the worthless faggot queer you are. Come on fucker. Shoot that pussy cock. Shoot it faggot. Shoot it." He was screaming at me by this time demanding I spurt and I did. I shot a huge load all up my stomach and chest as I fantasied about being with this man, this Master, this God. When I calmed down a little, he smiled a wry smile and spit in my face one more time. "See ya' faggot." He walked away. I watched him until I could not see him anymore in the darkness beyond the bathroom. I laid there for a few minutes and the tears just started to stream down my face again. But, this was not tears from fear, this was tears from the fact that this man had taken me to the deepest level of my soul and then left. I never felt so empty, so worthless, so helpless in all my life. It was as if the very heart of whom I am; was shown to me, and then stomped on telling me, `No, you don't get to have that. You don't get to feel that. You don't get to be who you truly are.' Eventually, I mustered some strength to go back into the bathroom. I washed up the best I could, trying to get the majority of the piss off me, as I knew it would start itching soon. I put my pants and shoes back on. I threw the remnants of the t-shirt in the trash. I walked back to my car. When I got to my car, there was an envelope between the wiper and the windshield. I lifted the wiper, took the envelope, got in the car and turned on the light so I could see. The outside of the envelope was addressed: "To faggot". I opened it up, unfolded it, and read it in disbelief. "faggot: Thanks for the interview. You are a worthy candidate. If you want more, take your clothes off right now, step out of your car, and leave all your possessions including your keys inside. I will pull up, popped the trunk, and you can come with me. If you don't want to, just start the car and drive away. Master" My first thought was this is scary. I'm not going to do something like this. But, what my head was saying to me and my actions were two different things. I started to unbutton my jeans. I leaned down and took off my sneakers. I pushed off my pants. I took a deep breath and opened the car door. I got out. I threw the keys on the seat, shut the door and stood there naked. I heard a car start farther down the parking lot. I was so dazed earlier it hadn't occurred to me that I didn't hear Master leave. Coming into the light was this big, black Mercedes S. The trunk lid popped. Master got out. He didn't say a word. He lifted the trunk lid and gave me a welcome motion with his hand. I walked over, got in the trunk, and he slammed down the lid. I heard the driver's door close and felt the Mercedes take off. I had no idea what was going to happen to me but I knew that this was the only choice I could make. The man had shown me who I really am. How could I say no? Thank you for reading. All comments are appreciated at douglas.marx.4@gmail.com