MyJockStrap
05-29-2005, 05:13 PM
Acceleration
Pulling onto the entrance ramp, Trace accelerated. The late hour provided for very little traffic and allowed Trace to seamlessly obtain the left lane with a single turn of the wheel. Accelerating to eighty miles an hour, he opened all the windows and turned up the radio. He did not recognize the song, but its frenetic beat matched his pulse, and he accelerated to eighty-five, knowing if he did not traverse the few miles quickly, he would change his mind.
Crossing the two right lanes, he took exit 15. Seeing the red light at the end of the exit, he braked but gunned it the moment it turned green, allowing him to keep the vehicle aggressively lunging foreword. Taking two consecutive left turns, he reentered the highway, now taking the opposite direction. This time he stayed in the slow lane but still brought the vehicle up to eighty-five, until he sighted the signs for his destination and pulled into a rest area.
Speeding down the entrance ramp, he pumped the brakes as he drove between two parking lots and swung the truck into the upper lot and pulled into a parking spot with a screeching halt. The vehicle bucked forward as he turned off the ignition and flicked the lights off.
Looking out his passenger window, he locked eyes with a man parked beside him and realized there was an empty parking spot between them. The two continued to lock eyes, as Trace’s heart raced with anxious expectation.
Breaking the stare, the man started his car and reversed, and Trace regretted the lost opportunity until he noticed the man had not turned his headlights on. He looked in his rearview mirror and realized the man’s car continued to move in reverse, greatly overcompensating for the length of the parking spot. The car disappeared from the length of the mirror and reappeared in the empty spot to his left.
Locking eyes with Trace, the ante rose as the man lowered his passenger window and nodded for Trace to do the same.
Fingering his window open, Trace was immediately greeted: “Hello.”
“Hi,” Trace nervously responded, as he fidgeted with his steering wheel.
“First time?”
Unsure of the protocols or how to proceed with acknowledging what he was here for, Trace simply answered, “Yes.”
“You were supposed to pull up to my passenger side, Newbie,” the man teasingly informed.
Too preoccupied with thought to answer, Trace made a mental note of this protocol and realized there were probably many things he did not know about this yet.
The man smiled and motioned his head toward his passenger seat: “Get in!”
Trace’s heart raced, and he wished the man had offered to come into his truck, so he made that request: “I’d prefer you come in here.”
Trace knew the man’s hesitation would result in a no, if he did not offer an effective argument: “After all, I’m the newbie.”
The man hesitated for an indecisive moment before leaping out of his car, running around the both cars, and climbing into Trace’s proffered passenger seat.
Trace was unsure of his duties as host, so he simply turned toward the man and realized for the first time what this stranger looked like. Averagely handsome, the man’s attractiveness was amplified by a particular glint in his eyes, often found in Anglo-Saxon men once their genetic pool has been revitalized with something southern. Trace wondered if this stranger was indicative of the men to be found in such places or if he was just lucking out, and he forget his catechism as he gazed further into the man’s eyes.
Redirecting Trace’s attention back to their mutual need, the man offered a guiding question: “Why don’t you start by taking your foot off the brake?”
Shocked to find he had held the brake pedal to the floor since pulling into the parking spot, Trace released it.
The man laughed as he reached across the seat, grabbed hold of Trace’s crotch bulge, and fingered the zipper open: “And I’ll start by getting you off.”
Exposing Trace’s already hard cock, the man lowered his head to Trace’s lap: “Sit back and relax, Newbie.”
Trace raised his eyes to the row of coniferous trees beyond the empty lower lot before him. His nose filled with the smell of damp and decomposing pine needles, as his ears filled with the sounds of sucking, swelling his cock to complete rigidity. Placing his hand on the back of the man’s head, he weaved his fingers through the tawny colored hair. Its dusky suggestion of wet hay reminded Trace of when he and a friend trespassed into the local dairy barn. The dark dank interior imprinted itself as the precursor for all things sexual when his friend reached through the rank air and cupped Trace’s prepubescent bulge in his hand, but before Trace could fully sensate or reciprocate, the farmer stormed into the barn and interrupted them, just as Trace was interrupted now by a heated moisture ripping through his cock.
The man pulled his head back, and Trace came audibly, as a sibilant spurt of cum shot out from his piss slit and splattered against the tip of his nose before raining over his lap, where the man rapidly stroked him until the least pearl of semen oozed from his cock.
“That’s was fucking awesome; Nice load, Newbie!” The man opened the door and jumped out with an irresponsible promise: “See you around.”
Trace shoved his increasingly flaccid wet cock into his zipper and rushed to start his truck. Flipping the lights on, he reversed out of the parking spot before the man had a chance to open his car door.
Driving down the entrance ramp, Trace strained to remember the man’s hair color or the association it evoked. Unable to recall, he exhaled, and the heedless ease of post-sex posture needled him to question his anonymous nocturnal departure from the highway. Having cum, he decided not to return to the rest area again. Pulling onto the highway, he wiped the cum off the tip of his nose and accelerated.
Pulling onto the entrance ramp, Trace accelerated. The late hour provided for very little traffic and allowed Trace to seamlessly obtain the left lane with a single turn of the wheel. Accelerating to eighty miles an hour, he opened all the windows and turned up the radio. He did not recognize the song, but its frenetic beat matched his pulse, and he accelerated to eighty-five, knowing if he did not traverse the few miles quickly, he would change his mind.
Crossing the two right lanes, he took exit 15. Seeing the red light at the end of the exit, he braked but gunned it the moment it turned green, allowing him to keep the vehicle aggressively lunging foreword. Taking two consecutive left turns, he reentered the highway, now taking the opposite direction. This time he stayed in the slow lane but still brought the vehicle up to eighty-five, until he sighted the signs for his destination and pulled into a rest area.
Speeding down the entrance ramp, he pumped the brakes as he drove between two parking lots and swung the truck into the upper lot and pulled into a parking spot with a screeching halt. The vehicle bucked forward as he turned off the ignition and flicked the lights off.
Looking out his passenger window, he locked eyes with a man parked beside him and realized there was an empty parking spot between them. The two continued to lock eyes, as Trace’s heart raced with anxious expectation.
Breaking the stare, the man started his car and reversed, and Trace regretted the lost opportunity until he noticed the man had not turned his headlights on. He looked in his rearview mirror and realized the man’s car continued to move in reverse, greatly overcompensating for the length of the parking spot. The car disappeared from the length of the mirror and reappeared in the empty spot to his left.
Locking eyes with Trace, the ante rose as the man lowered his passenger window and nodded for Trace to do the same.
Fingering his window open, Trace was immediately greeted: “Hello.”
“Hi,” Trace nervously responded, as he fidgeted with his steering wheel.
“First time?”
Unsure of the protocols or how to proceed with acknowledging what he was here for, Trace simply answered, “Yes.”
“You were supposed to pull up to my passenger side, Newbie,” the man teasingly informed.
Too preoccupied with thought to answer, Trace made a mental note of this protocol and realized there were probably many things he did not know about this yet.
The man smiled and motioned his head toward his passenger seat: “Get in!”
Trace’s heart raced, and he wished the man had offered to come into his truck, so he made that request: “I’d prefer you come in here.”
Trace knew the man’s hesitation would result in a no, if he did not offer an effective argument: “After all, I’m the newbie.”
The man hesitated for an indecisive moment before leaping out of his car, running around the both cars, and climbing into Trace’s proffered passenger seat.
Trace was unsure of his duties as host, so he simply turned toward the man and realized for the first time what this stranger looked like. Averagely handsome, the man’s attractiveness was amplified by a particular glint in his eyes, often found in Anglo-Saxon men once their genetic pool has been revitalized with something southern. Trace wondered if this stranger was indicative of the men to be found in such places or if he was just lucking out, and he forget his catechism as he gazed further into the man’s eyes.
Redirecting Trace’s attention back to their mutual need, the man offered a guiding question: “Why don’t you start by taking your foot off the brake?”
Shocked to find he had held the brake pedal to the floor since pulling into the parking spot, Trace released it.
The man laughed as he reached across the seat, grabbed hold of Trace’s crotch bulge, and fingered the zipper open: “And I’ll start by getting you off.”
Exposing Trace’s already hard cock, the man lowered his head to Trace’s lap: “Sit back and relax, Newbie.”
Trace raised his eyes to the row of coniferous trees beyond the empty lower lot before him. His nose filled with the smell of damp and decomposing pine needles, as his ears filled with the sounds of sucking, swelling his cock to complete rigidity. Placing his hand on the back of the man’s head, he weaved his fingers through the tawny colored hair. Its dusky suggestion of wet hay reminded Trace of when he and a friend trespassed into the local dairy barn. The dark dank interior imprinted itself as the precursor for all things sexual when his friend reached through the rank air and cupped Trace’s prepubescent bulge in his hand, but before Trace could fully sensate or reciprocate, the farmer stormed into the barn and interrupted them, just as Trace was interrupted now by a heated moisture ripping through his cock.
The man pulled his head back, and Trace came audibly, as a sibilant spurt of cum shot out from his piss slit and splattered against the tip of his nose before raining over his lap, where the man rapidly stroked him until the least pearl of semen oozed from his cock.
“That’s was fucking awesome; Nice load, Newbie!” The man opened the door and jumped out with an irresponsible promise: “See you around.”
Trace shoved his increasingly flaccid wet cock into his zipper and rushed to start his truck. Flipping the lights on, he reversed out of the parking spot before the man had a chance to open his car door.
Driving down the entrance ramp, Trace strained to remember the man’s hair color or the association it evoked. Unable to recall, he exhaled, and the heedless ease of post-sex posture needled him to question his anonymous nocturnal departure from the highway. Having cum, he decided not to return to the rest area again. Pulling onto the highway, he wiped the cum off the tip of his nose and accelerated.