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Topic: Truckers Foreskin (2)  (Read 2087 times)
« on: April 23, 2007, 05:25:35 PM »

He sighed out loud. They, foreskins were getting to be pretty rare birds these days and, unless one was willing to settle for a regimen of old men, one had to take what one could get. There wasn't much to do but hope for the best and maybe he would get what he wanted. Still, he could do what he could. He had such a hunger down inside him for the taste of a juicy uncut cock it was difficult to satisfy.

One day while he was sitting on the john at the rest area he began to read the messages scribbled on the wall. Rather impulsively, he took out his pen and wrote a message of his own:


It had been there for months now, off and on, sometimes it got scrubbed away by the old man who worked as attendant, but always he wrote it back. Someone would answer and he would wait. Sometimes the guy showed and they made it, sometimes he waited in vain, and there were times when he had just driven off without bothering.

Once, in answer to: "I'VE GOT WHAT YOU WANT - SUCK IT DRY,"

He waited until the indicated time of midnight and then blew his cool. The dude who showed up and stood outside the door rubbing at his crotch with an absolute air of desperation, was the young minister from the Baptist church he belonged to but never attended. He felt something akin to panic. No, he thought, the town was too small for that, but now, thinking back, it was a good thing to know. If he ever got religious he would know where to go.

What he really wondered was, would it pay off today? He felt his nerves twitch as he thought about it. It was Friday and someone had written in reply to his message.


He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to go. He had timed it just right and the rest area was coming up fast, just a couple of more miles ahead. Finally he saw it as he rounded the curve and entered the off ramp. All around him the afternoon sun stretched brilliant fingers to the autumn colors of the trees on the surrounding hillsides. He pulled into a stall near the little building and came to a stop.

He waited. He knew these places sometimes got hot and it was wise to take a little time to look things over and get the feel of it before making a move of any kind. He also took other precautions and kept his dash littered with road maps, paper cups, boxes of tissue, all the paraphernalia of a person who travels a lot and which would help allay any suspicions.

There were several semi's parked over in the truck area and a couple of cars down the line from him. He got out of his car, stretched, looked around for a moment, then went into the john and used the facilities, there was no one inside so he came back out, went to the water fountain and took a long drink. He looked around again, then went and sat down on the bench. As he did so, one of the cars started up and drove away. It was probably one of the truckers, he thought, and wondered if he would be worth waiting for, or if it would be another disappointment. It was frustrating to wait and then be turned off by the guy who showed up. God knew he wasn't asking for something out of Blueboy, but there were times... (...)
(To be continued in Part 3)
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