I logged onto the site looking for another quick jerk-off story, but the latest nifty gay stories about truck-stop gloryholes had my dick throbbing before I even touched it. I read one about a guy dropping to his knees in a filthy stall and sucking off strangers until his throat was sore and his face was painted with cum. My hand was already inside my jeans, stroking slow and rough while I pictured it. By the time I finished the story I knew I had to find out for myself.
The next night I drove to the old interstate rest stop two towns over. My heart hammered the whole way. I parked, walked straight into the men’s room, and headed for the last stall like the stories said. The place smelled like piss, bleach, and old sweat. I locked the door, dropped my pants, and sat on the toilet with my cock already half-hard. There was a hole cut in the partition, edges worn smooth from use. I waited maybe five minutes, stroking myself, before I heard boots on the tile.
A guy stepped into the next stall. I saw his shadow, then his thick fingers tapping the rim of the hole. No words. I leaned forward and put my mouth right up to it. A fat, uncut cock pushed through, already leaking. I licked the head, tasting salt and skin, then opened wide and took him down. He was heavy on my tongue, veins pulsing as I bobbed. I heard him grunt on the other side and start thrusting. I gagged but didn’t pull off. Spit ran down my chin while I worked him, one hand jerking my own dick in time with my mouth.
He pulled back after a minute, tapped again, and I stood up, turned around, and backed my ass to the hole. I’d lubed myself before leaving the car. His cock pressed against my hole and pushed in. The stretch burned in the best way. He fucked me steady and deep, the partition creaking every time he bottomed out. I braced my hands on the opposite wall and pushed back, taking every inch. My own cock swung hard and dripped onto the floor. He lasted longer than I expected, pounding until my legs shook, then pulled out and shot thick ropes across my ass cheeks. I felt the hot cum slide down my crack while he zipped up and left.
I hadn’t even come yet. Another guy was already waiting. This one was longer and thinner. I dropped back to my knees and sucked him clean, swallowing every drop when he unloaded down my throat. By the third cock I was leaking so much pre-cum I could feel it stringing from my slit. The fourth guy wanted my ass again. He was rougher, slamming into me until the stall door rattled. When he came he stayed buried and filled me up. I shot without touching myself, cum splattering the wall in front of me while his load pumped into my guts.
I stayed another hour.
Five loads total—three in my mouth, two in my ass. My jaw ached, my hole felt used and sloppy, and I was still hard when I finally pulled my pants up and walked out. In the car I sat in the dark with my fingers in my ass, feeling the cum leak out, and jerked off one more time thinking about how I was going to write my own nifty gay stories entry the second I got home.
I did exactly that. I typed it raw, exactly like it happened, and posted it. The comments started rolling in the next morning—guys saying they were going to the same rest stop tonight. I already knew I’d be back there by Friday, hole ready, mouth open, chasing the next load.
