Truck Me Box Set

Truck Me All Night Long-5

“Goddamn, that’s the way!” I yelled as I pounded the very willing, tight hole of a guy no more than twenty-one in a bathroom stall, two hours later.

I had still been in a funk after Adrian’s departure, and was determined to f**k my way out of it. When Matt had walked in—or should I say, swung his hips by my booth, I had gotten up to follow.

“Buy you a drink?” I asked, as I leaned into his personal space.

He looked me over and said, “How about a f**k instead?”

“Done,” I replied, moving in to sample those pouty lips. He tasted like good s*x should.

“Name’s Matt,” he gasped a few seconds later, after investigating my tonsils.

“Don’t care,” I responded. He chuckled as I pulled him into the bathroom and an empty stall, locking the door behind us.

Now, Matt was leaning against the wall above the toilet with both legs around my waist, panting through the driving rhythm as I gave him what for.

“That’s the way, Daddy!” he shouted. My rhythm faltered a little, and not because I was about to come. His words hit a little too close to home. God, why now?

Matt tightened his legs around my waist and clenched my d**k with his hole. “Come on, sexy. Don’t stop! Give it to me good.”

I got my head back in the game and resumed the punishing pace from before. I pushed him harder into the wall, one of his hands holding onto my shoulder while the other gripped the top of the stall door.

“Yeah, that’s what I want!” he yelled, then squeezed my d**k real good as he came in the condom I’d put on him earlier while I’d sucked his d**k a little. His orgasmic moans just made me pump harder into him, and then I filled my own condom with a shout.

“f**k!” I cried through the oh-so-good sensation of release. After a few seconds, I pulled out, holding onto the condom and stepped back a bit. Matt put his legs down, cleaned up with toilet paper, and adjusted his clothing. I removed the condom from my d**k and wiped the c*m away, then flushed everything down the toilet.

Now that I was back in the present, I could hear the sounds of other guys going at it in the stalls around us. I smiled to myself and shook my head. A good f**k always made me forget where I was, and time seemed to stand still while I chased oblivion. I opened the door so Matt and I could leave the stall and wash our hands at the sink.

“That was a helluva f**k, baby. Thanks,” I said, when we went back into the bar area.

“Glad you liked it,” Matt replied. “You looked like you needed a pick-me-up.”

“Did I now?” Had he been watching me?

“I saw you earlier, talking to that smoking hot guy that left.”

So what am I, then?

“The bartender told me you only did one-night-stands with guys around my age, so after your friend left, I kept my eye on you. You seemed a little down.”

Oh no.

“You felt sorry for me, is that it? You gave me a damn pity f**k?” Jesus.

“Maybe.”

I took a step back. I couldn’t believe this s**t! This wasn’t supposed to happen to me—not yet. I wasn’t ready! Matt reached out to grab my upper arm before I could get away.

“Hey, wait a minute! Look, honey. You’re older than my usual tryst, but I had it on good authority that you had a fat c**k and your hot bod knew how to use it. You’re not handsome, but there’s just something about you, with the gray at your temples and sprinkled in your light brown hair. Those piercing hazel eyes of yours are gorgeous. I just wanted to make you feel better, if only for a little while. You understand?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Matt hesitated a little before he continued, “You should know…The guys here, they talk about you, and it’s not good stuff, man. Like you’re a joke to them, you know? My advice to you? Find another bar with fresh meat or settle down with somebody, whatever the age. You don’t want to become a walking cliché, right? You deserve better than that. Take it for what it’s worth.”

Matt kissed me on the cheek and left me standing there, in a state of shock.

No way was Adrian right. I had to leave—now. I pushed through the crowd, exiting the bar as quickly as I could, trying to avoid the glances that before, I had thought were lusty come-ons but now seemed to be piteous stares or looks of disgust. f**k.

When I got outside in the humid air, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. f**k those hypocrites. I’ll find myself some other bar to have a good time.

I started the truck and headed out on the freeway toward Stiffs, a trendy gay club that had sprung up in the last six months or so. I’d been there twice. I found a parking spot on a side street and walked to the entrance. I joined the line, which almost circled the block. Thursday nights were popular, apparently.

Everyone in front of me or behind was in their mid-to-lower twenties, just what I needed to get me through the rest of the night. As I stood there, I heard snippets of the conversations around me.

“Ohmigosh, this guy? He was like, thirty, or some s**t. He tried to pick me up the last time I was here. I was like, as if, dude.” This tidbit came from a guy clad in a tight pink jumpsuit. Really?

“I know what you mean, honey. I don’t get what these old guys want. Don’t they know they look desperate?” his friend, wearing a neon green sleeveless shirt and tight, velvet jeans, replied with a titter.

More of the same came from the guys behind me, and after fifteen minutes of that, with the line barely moving, I gave in and left. While I walked away, I heard muffled snickers and things like, “Old farts tryin’ to kick it,” and my favorite, “Go back to geriatric-ville, dude.” That wasn’t a word, was it? Whatever this was, I’d had enough. f**k you, Adrian, and all of you who feel the need to judge me. f**k. You. All.

I got home around eleven o’clock and went to bed, disillusioned with the world.