This is a true story when I accidentally pulled my private part. Sometime after ten o’clock, following a late administrator’s meeting about next year’s school year, I pulled into a truck stop that I drove past every day but had never stopped at and went directly to the restroom…barely able to keep from pissing myself…still half an hour from home.
I walked into the restroom and went directly to a stall, pulled out my cock and began pissing.
From a stall directly behind me, I heard someone say, “Hey cocksucker, we have an audience.”
I looked behind me, to see the stall was wide open and a burly black truck driver was standing up with a smile on his face, while some man in a suit was on his knees bobbing back and forth.
I quickly turned back, embarrassed to be seeing a gay act.
The black man asked, “So are you a cocksucker too?”
I couldn’t believe he would ask such a thing and was frustrated that this was the longest piss of my life…I was desperate to get out of there.
“When you’re done pissing, you’re welcome to watch, suit and tie here has a great mouth,” the black man said, his voice loud and firm, clearly enjoying his position of power.
Oddly, as I finished peeing, my cock inexplicably began getting stiff. Mortified, by my cock’s betrayal, as I had no interest in gay sex, I finished peeing and quickly shoved my growing cock into my pants.
Turning around, the truck driver added a smug smile on his face, “Unless, of course, you want to join him.”
Without even knowing I did it, I adjusted my now almost fully erect cock in my pants, as I began moving away, breaking my stare at the man bobbing back and forth eagerly on what looked to be a massive cock.
The truck driver called out confidently, “You’re in denial, cocksucker. If your dick is hard by just catching a couple of glimpses of cocksucking…you’re a cocksucker.”
I rushed out of the restroom, not even washing my hands, as he finished his hillbilly assessment of me.
I went to my car and collected myself…trying to understand how such a bizarre scene had gotten me so hard. I started the car and was about to leave when I glanced at my fuel gauge and realized I didn’t have enough fuel to get home. Sighing, I started the car and drove to the gas pumps.
I had just put the nozzle into the car when I saw the man in the suit come outside, his head down, and walk quickly to a Mercedes. I shook my head at the thought that this rich, likely stockbroker bigwig, was a faggot.
I watched him back up and drive away, wondering what would happen if any of his coworkers knew of his secret cocksucker life…especially to a working class black man.
I was startled when the gruff trucker’s voice came from behind. “He was a pretty eager cocksucker.”
I turned around, trying to be courteous, “He sure scurried out of here.”
“He would hate for anyone to know that underneath his thousand dollar suit, he is just a cocksucker eager to swallow black cock,” the trucker exclaimed, rather loudly, not caring about the couple other people in hearing distance.
“I guess,” I shrugged, completely uncomfortable speaking to this black arrogant man.
“Trust me, I know when someone is a cocksucker,” he said, his tone implying, I thought instantly, he thought I was a cocksucker.
I instantly corrected him, “I’m not a cocksucker.”
“I never said you were,” he shrugged, “you did.”
“I’m just saying I’m not,” I reiterated confidently.
“I’m sure you believe that,” he said, again his tone implying he didn’t buy it.
“I’m not gay,” I repeated, showing my hand with my wedding ring on it.
“Suit and tie are married too,” he countered. “Actually, the majority of white cocksuckers who eagerly search me out are married.”
“That’s absurd,” I said, pulling the gas nozzle out, baffled at the thought of married white guys searching out people to blow.
“It’s a fact,” he said. “Many, many straight white men are cocksuckers…many, like you, just don’t know it yet.”
“Like me?” I scoffed.
“You’re the prototype of a straight cocksucker,” he accused.
I put the nozzle back in the pump and even though I shouldn’t have asked, I did. “How am I the prototype?”
He explained, “You’re married, probably a couple kids, probably a sex life that is way more bland than it was before you had kids.”
“That’s most married men,” I pointed out, although he was rather accurate in his assessment.
“Exactly proving my point,” he nodded. “Most married men live in denial of their curiosity about sucking cock, especially big black cock.”
“I’m not in denial,” I said, beginning to move away to pay, “and I don’t buy into that big black cock bullshit.”
“Trust me, you’re in denial. You got hard from just a few seconds of hearing and seeing someone on their knees. You are forever changed and don’t even know it yet,” he said, before adding, “and although it is not always true, stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason…there is usually truth to it.”
“That’s ludicrous,” I countered, although my cock was, frustratingly, getting hard again.
“Tell you what, cocksucker. I will be back at this truck stop in two days at around seven o’clock. I will be stopping for a meal and a blow job. If you’re the cocksucker I know you are, you will show up and ask permission to suck my cock,” he said, smugly.
“That won’t happen,” I said, turning and walking away.
“See you in two days, cocksucker,” he called out. I ignored him, my face red as a couple other men watched me walk by them and into the store.
I paid quickly and returned to my car, and the semi I assumed was his was no longer there. I drove the last half hour home, my mind spinning at the bizarre conversation. Why would he think I was gay? Why was he so smug and confident? Why was I so fucking hard?
By the time I got home, the wife was already in bed asleep. So I went to the den, grabbed my iPad and clicked on my favorite website to stroke to…Literotica. I had an account and a few stories I had tagged as favorites, as well as a few favorite authors that were my go to writers. I read a couple of stories that usually did the trick and, oddly, they didn’t get me off like they usually did.
Going to the search engine, I searched for gay stories and clicked on one called ‘The Power of Cock’ by John Hamilton, thinking at the time it was a ludicrous title and concept. Yet, as I began reading it, I was drawn into the parallels between the story and my own evening.
It was about a straight guy who picks up a black hitchhiker and ends up sucking his cock. An early scene had the black man walking to the guy’s car door, and offering his cock to him through the window. The man hesitates, but ends up opening his mouth and taking the hitchhiker’s cock.
As I read the story my cock became rock hard and, my brain betraying me, like my cock had earlier and was again, I wondered what I would have done if the truck driver had plopped his cock in my face.
Would I have sucked it? I didn’t think so. Yet, as I continued to read this straight man’s decline into interracial gay submission, I furiously pumped my cock while imagining it was me. I only read a few more paragraphs before cum erupted from my cock.
Once my orgasm was done, I quickly clicked out of the story, ashamed that such a story had turned me on and even more so that I had imagined being that protagonist. I got ready for bed, before joining my beautiful, yet way less sexually aggressive than she had been ten years ago, wife. Ironically, the trucker had pegged me exactly.
I loved my wife, but our sex life was bland and the gap between encounters had continued to grow further and further apart…ever since we’d had our kids.
…
Two masturbation sessions and a dozen gay stories of straight men submitting to their first cocksucking experience later, and it was the day of the so-called rendezvous. I never planned to meet him, but I told my wife anyway that I would be staying late to tutor some students and finish assessing some first year projects that were usually painful to assess.
All day while lecturing my US History students, the meeting was in the back of my mind. I felt distracted and flustered, ending my afternoon lecture early. Even when in my office assessing projects I couldn’t focus…it didn’t help that the students’ work was mostly crap.
The harder I tried to not imagine what it would be like to be on my knees sucking the trucker’s cock, the more it seemed to make the visual pop into my head. Over the past two days, a variety of questions had come into my head…questions that had never once occurred to me before the strange brief encounter two days ago: