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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 inexplicitly 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 is 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 büyükesat escort 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 favourite website to stroke to…Literotica. I had an account and a few stories I had tagged as favourites, as well as a few favourite 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 were 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:
What would it feel like to have a cock in my mouth?
What would it feel like to be on my knees?
What does cum taste like?
Can someone be straight and yet suck cock? According to the short stories on Literotica it was possible. I didn’t find men sexually attractive and I sure as hell didn’t want to fuck or get fucked by a man, yet I was undeniably curious about sucking a cock. Yet I still wondered.
Was I actually willing to suck a cock?
Was I willing to swallow cum?
Was I willing to be called a cocksucker?
I still wasn’t sure of those answers when I glanced at the clock. It was six-thirty. It would take me almost half an hour to drive to the truck stop. As I stood up and grabbed my jacket, I rationalized I wasn’t necessarily going to the truck stop to suck cock…it was dinner time and I definitely was getting hungry.
My mind and body on cruise control, I began driving to the truck stop, still unsure of what I was willing to do.
Reaching the truck stop, traffic being brutal, it was a quarter after seven. I sat in my car for another ten minutes as my brain bounced back and forth between cebeci escort a few different options:
1. Shift the car into drive and go home.
2. Just go in and have a bite to eat and go home (I was starving…for food, I mean).
3. Go in and be ready for whatever the trucker was planning on doing.
Just after seven-thirty, I got out of my car, deciding to go into the restaurant to eat dinner and see what happened from there.
I walked into the diner, which was almost empty, with only a couple customers…one being the black trucker. He didn’t even look up from his meal as he said amused, “I knew you’d show up.”
I froze as the moment of truth was at hand, I could quickly turnaround and leave and pretend none of this had happened, before anything really happened…or I could go and sit down.
After only a brief hesitation, I walked over and joined him.
“Hungry?” He asked, his plate almost done.
“I am,” I agreed, grabbing a menu.
“The only thing on the menu for you is cock,” he said, matter-of-factly.
I didn’t say anything, as I looked over to see if anyone had heard what he said to me. The waitress was no longer in the room and the older gentleman a few tables over didn’t seem to be paying attention.
“Have you been craving cock since you realized you were a cocksucker?” He asked, his gruff tone somehow making everything he said seem casual.
“What? No,” I protested, not wanting to admit that was why I was here.
“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “You’re not here to suck my cock?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, embarrassed by his question and nervous as even his normal voice was quite loud.
“You better decide now, cocksucker,” he said. “Suit and tie can be here in fifteen minutes to take my load. But I am giving you first right of refusal.”
“I’ve never done this before,” I admitted, not looking up at him.
Just then the waitress came over and asked, her southern accent strong, “Can I get anything for you, sugar?”
“You don’t have the right body parts for what he is hungry for,” the truck driver spoke for me and then chuckled loudly.
My face burned with shame as I stammered, “C-c-could I just have a glass of water?”
“Sure thing, sugar,” she nodded, walking away.
“So you never answered me. Have you been craving cock since I last saw you?” He repeated, his tone never changing.
“No,” I answered, which was mostly true.
“Really?” He asked. “But you do want to suck my cock?”
My face still burned with shame as I whispered, “I think so.”
“I need a yes or no,” he said, grabbing his phone as he added, “or I text suit and tie. It really is that black and white.” He laughed at his own pun.
Although I still wasn’t sure I was ready to do this, I knew I didn’t want suit and tie coming here. “Yes,” I whispered, ashamed by my answer and yet feeling an uneasy excitement building inside me.
“Yes, what?” He asked.
“Yes, I want to suck your cock,” I said, still quiet, looking to see if the waitress was coming.
“Louder,” he ordered, “I can’t hear you.”
“I want to suck your cock,” I said louder, just as the waitress came out of nowhere…hearing my declaration.
The waitress put the water down and asked, looking at the truck driver, “Anything else, Darnell?”
“I don’t think so, Flo,” he said.
‘His name is Darnell,’ I thought to myself, praying the waitress would go away.
“My new friend here looks pretty hungry for some sausage,” Darnell added.
She smiled, shaking her head, seemingly amused, “I don’t know how you do it Darnell.”
“It’s a gift,” he shrugged.
After she left, he asked, “What’s your name, cocksucker?”
“Richard,” I answered, not offering my last name.
He exploded in laughter. “Your name is Dick. Even at birth your parents knew you were going to grow up to be a cocksucker.”
It wasn’t the first time I had been called Dick, which I hated being called, but this was even more degrading than in high school.
“So does Dick want some dick?” he asked, clearly amused at my name and his playful banter.
“M-m-maybe I should go,” I stammered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the situation.
“Where do you work?” he asked, ignoring my protest.
“At the college,” I freely answered, instantly realizing I had given him too much information and wondering why I would tell him that.
“Professor Dick,” he declared, stressing my name, as he stood up, tossing a twenty on the table. “Follow me, cocksucker.”
I didn’t move at first, but he said, his tone loud so that both the waitress and the only other customer heard him. “Now or never, cocksucker.”
Curiosity overriding dignity, I sheepishly, not looking up to avoid making eye contact with the waitress, I stood up and followed Darnell to the restroom that started it all…with butterflies in my stomach.
Once in the kolej escort restroom, he went to the same stall I had seen him in a while in the act just two days ago, and he ordered, “Come get your black monster, cocksucker.”
I stared at him as he dropped his pants. Part of me was eager to do it, to make a growing curiosity a reality, yet I still had a chance to refrain from the gay act of submission. I was a well-respected educator. What would my students say if they saw me on my knees, in a dirty restroom sucking a gruff trucker’s cock? I was a married man. What would my wife say if she learned of my indiscretions? I’m a loving father to two children. What would they think of their dear ol’ father if they saw me with a big black cock in my mouth?
“Now or never, cocksucker,” Darnell repeated, his tone implying impatience, as he pulled his cock out from his blue boxers.
Seeing his semi-erect cock, my brittle resistance was shattered, my many reasons to say no dissipated, as I stared at it. It was much longer and thicker than mine and my eyes were drawn to it. He chuckled, making his cock sway slightly, like a hypnotist’s watch…and I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Even as my head protested the submission, I felt my legs moving towards him and his cock.
Reaching the stall, he said, “They always crumble when they get a close look at a big juicy black cock.”
Although his words seemed absurd, as I stared at his cock, my mouth watered and I was in awe of his nine inches…it indeed looked…juicy.
Standing before him, eyes locked on his cock, mesmerized by its beauty, I resisted the last moment of submission…resisted dropping to my knees…even though I knew it was inevitable. I wanted to feel his cock in my mouth more than I could remember ever wanting anything else…absurd but true.
“Knees, cocksucker, I have to be on the road in fifteen,” he ordered.
As soon as I was ordered, I dropped to my knees like an eager cocksucker, I obeyed, dropping to my knees in my mind because I was told to. His juicy cock was now staring me in the face. I grabbed it with my left hand and couldn’t believe how hard it was.
He chuckled, “Stop admiring it, cocksucker, and do what you were born to do…suck cock.”
Again his words were ridiculous…I wasn’t born to suck cock. I had lived forty years never even considering it, yet as I leaned forward and crossed the last line I wondered what made me want to do it now. Why did I come back? Why did I let him humiliate me in the restaurant? Why was my cock stiff?
These questions unanswered, I opened my mouth, leaned forward and took his big cock in. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting it to feel like…but it felt so natural…like breathing. My moral mind instantly shut off as I focused on the sensation of having a cock in my mouth.
Darnell groaned, his tone amused, “Ahhhh, another straight man becomes a cocksucker.”
I hated that he simplified such an act. Yet, at the moment, I wanted to be a cocksucker. Instead of responding, I began slowly bobbing back and forth, taking a couple inches of his cock in my mouth.
“Already submitting to your natural cocksucker urges,” he assessed, which seemed frustratingly true as I wanted to take more of him in my mouth. It was surreal sucking a cock, an act I loved having done to me and yet most women, my wife included, seemed to dislike it and did it out of obligation more than personal enjoyment. Yet, unexplainably, I loved the feel of his cock in my mouth. It seemed, using his word, ‘natural’, and I couldn’t fathom why a woman wouldn’t like this.
I continued bobbing back and forth, each forward movement attempting to take more of his nine inch cock, four inches bigger than mine, into my mouth. I couldn’t fathom taking it all in my mouth, but I wanted to get as much as I possibly could…strangely…I wanted to be a good cocksucker.
“Such a natural cocksucker,” he groaned. “I bet you can’t believe you waited this long to become a cocksucker.”
Without meaning to, I moaned on his cock in agreement.
He laughed, pulling his cock out of my mouth, “Tell me what you want, cocksucker.”
“To suck your cock,” I admitted, looking up at him without shame.
“So you’re a cocksucker?” He asked, tapping his cock head on my lips.
“Yes,” I nodded in agreement.
“Say it,” he ordered.
“I’m a cocksucker,” I acknowledged with a strange sense of pride.
“And what do you want right now?” He asked, tracing my lips with his stiff dick.
“I want to suck your cock and make you come,” I admitted, desperate to have his addicting cock back in my mouth.
“You want to be my white cocksucker?” He asked, his chocolate stick teasing me relentlessly.
“Yes,” I agreed, willing to agree to anything to have his big cock back in my mouth…wondering also if I would be so eager, so mesmerized by his cock, if he was white.
“Beg for it,” he ordered, slowly stroking himself.
“Oh please let your white cocksucker suck your big, juicy, hard black dick. Use me as your cum bucket and dick gobbling slut,” I said, the derogatory names about myself, including my own name, somehow turning me on even more…my cock begging for release.
“Once you take my load, I will expect you to be ready to come and serve me whenever I text you,” he revealed.
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