The Dentist Ch. 02

My name's Rudy. Rudolpho actually. Rudolpho Anthony Teagan.

What in the fuck were my parents taking? After all, our lineage stretches back to the Irish; and really? Rudolpho? I'm at a total loss on that one. But that's not the story you want to hear.

Let's begin.

I ended up living in Los Angeles due to my indulgence in a lustful undertaking.

A good buddy of mine drove a flatbed semi-truck and delivered whatever anyone would pay him to. Rebar, lumber, A/C units...whatever. He worked out of Oklahoma for a small trucking company. They took orders for shipment of goods and my bud hauled the loads to wherever he was told.

He's a single guy and was a few years older than myself. He had never been married or had the inkling to be, and lived out of his truck. He was essentially homeless you could say. Um, not truly, I suppose; he had a pretty sweet set up in the back of the semi he drove.

The rear of the cab was set up like a mini motel. He had a television and a laptop as far as electronics go. Also a small refrigerator and a microwave stacked one upon the other atop a tiny counter. In the corner was a closet with a couple of drawers and a hanging rod for clothes. No facilities, however. He had to hit a truck-stop to grab a shower and a shave. Finally and most importantly, there was a bunk for sleeping. There was no more a guy would have needed for just himself.

We met one late evening when he'd pulled into a truck stop just outside of Hinton. He was traveling West to drop a load off in Albuquerque and had stopped to make use of the showers and restrooms.

I had just finished a work shift and had driven over to fill-er-up and grab a bite.

I had finished high school that year, had gotten my diploma and was working as a burger-flipping line cook in a small restaurant in town. A mediocre job but a job nonetheless.

My Dad had spent his life working on oil rigs in the surrounding area as a roughneck. He had preferred that I not get into that industry. It was "Hard work," he'd said. "Ruins your body and the pay doesn't match."

Dad had always been an ultra-masculine man and was absolutely the head-of-the-house. I admired and respected him and usually did as I was told. If I hadn't, I would have had to suffer the consequences of my actions. So...I had followed his advice and took the first job I could find, cooking.

I'd done that job for nearly a year and was then looking for a way to get out of that small nowhere town.

It had occurred to me that I'd always been a submissive soul. It was most likely due to the facts of how I had been raised and Dad's iron fist. I could admit to myself that it had been a turn-on for me to have rested under his control. I supposed that may have been the reason I found myself interested in guys.

Their natural in-charge attitude and sway to the dominate side is unique to the male persona. Even the shy dudes instinctively have that edge. That was especially true in rural Oklahoma.

This attraction to men had finally led me to the point where I was ready to explore the domain of male-to-male interaction.

After another swing shift of fixing suppers for hungry patrons, it was time to close up shop. I still had to put the food away, scrape and brick the grill and stock the cold table before I could say my chores were finished. With those duties being done, I clocked out and headed for my car in the parking lot.

It was still hot outside, even though it was ten thirty in the evening. and there wasn't any breeze to speak of. I wasn't really tired, I thought. It always took me two or three hours to settle down and get sleepy after work.

I got behind the steering wheel and decided to go have some coffee and breakfast at the twenty-four-hour travel center. It was just a short ride up the highway and I decided to head up there alone. Everyone I knew was either in bed or getting ready for bed, so I figured it was best to not try and find someone who'd like to tag-a-long.

I walked in the restaurant part of the building and sat myself at a table. A friendly waitress ran by, carrying another table's food on her arms, and quickly spurt out "Coffee babe?" My affirmative response followed into her ears while she kept moving. In a matter of minutes, she rushed back over and jotted down my menu choices. She amiably let me know that they had just gotten their late rush and that it would take some extra time for me to get my meal. "No problem," I responded. "I don't have anywhere to be." She smiled and hurried back behind the counter to order my chow.

Looking around the place, I noticed several truckers waiting for their suppers or breakfasts as they sat alone. There were also a couple of tables of some travelers sitting in small groups. And myself, like the truckers, flying solo.

After two hot cups of coffee, I felt the urge to go and take a piss. I walked into the restroom and stepped up to a urinal. There was a guy a couple of urinals down, finishing up and shaking his thing. In a flash, my eyes traveled down to what he had in his hand and I grabbed a longish look. I wasn't being shy about it at all.

I canvassed up from his floppy crotch cannon, taking in his overall look. With his cock in-hand and looking back at me casually, I saw that he was wearing faded jeans, work boots, and a black T. Over his t-shirt he wore an army vest and he sported a freshly shaven face. Atop a head of wet and drying wavy brown hair sat a beat-up baseball cap. He wore it high with the sharply curved brim pointing almost straight upwards at his hairline. When he caught my eye, he looked back at me with a "Want this?" expression on his face. As I checked him out, he ran his thumb and fore finger up and down his prick a couple of times.

I grinned. He motioned behind him to a stall with a quick jerk of his head.

I put my junk away, walked over to the stall and entered, then sat down on the toilet seat and waited. A couple of seconds later, he pulled the door open and stepped in. He'd left his dick hanging out of his zipper and had apparently reached in and taken his furry baby-makers out too. All his tools hanging out there, a few inches from my face.

I didn't really know what I was doing, but I sure as hell knew what I wanted to. I thought to myself "No hesitation, no reservations, Rudy." I'd given this moment much consideration up until now, and I wasn't gonna mess things up by being shy or timid.

I had tasted the flavor of my own pecker on my hand during my private jerk sessions and had even discovered that semen was like mothers'-milk to me. Delicious, creamy, tangy.

I leaned in and realized, at that very instant, that I also have an appetite for the sweaty aroma of a dude's ripe crotch. Damn, it smelled fantastic.

"Gonna suck it or stare at it, boy?" he quietly growled.

I was hooked. The authoritative tone of his question left me reeling and it spawned an uncomfortable bulge in my shorts.

I moved in, allowing the salty tip of his swollen pud to touch my lips and open my jaw. My tongue grazed the underside of his cock-head and he gave me a relieved sighing hum. "Pull it in, boy." he compelled, "Suck." I loved the vinegarish taste of his dick as I proceeded to do as I was told.

My lips were wrapped around the shaft of his boner as I bobbed my head up-and-down, trying to take a little more length with each stroke. I soon got into a haphazard sort of rhythm and managed to get about half his slab in before it began to touch the back of my tongue. On my next delve, I felt a little jump in his cock-muscles. As I slid back up, I could taste what I recognized as some clear phallic honey, precum, dribbling across my tongue. "Hell yeah!" I thought.

"Lick my nuts...NOW, boy." I heard him grumble. I pulled off his pecker, with conscious understanding that I wanted to please this stranger, and obeyed his instruction. The tangy sweat mixed with the rough texture of hair on my tongue delivered an awesome flavor to my taste buds. I licked each of his gonads but soon found myself enjoying the deed so much that I pulled each into my mouth, one at a time. I slithered my sloppy tongue all around them as if rolling a jawbreaker in my mouth. "Holy shit that feels good!" he voiced sort of loudly, forgetting where he was.

He looked down at me, his eyes wide and round, realizing he might of said that a bit too loud. I could feel my eyes twinkling in amusement. I would have smiled or maybe even laughed at the expression on his face if I hadn't had a mouthful of hefty man nuts.

"Finish me!" he whispered this time.

He watched, then grunted, as I moved my sloppy lips up his pole and onto his dick in one quick maneuver.

"This time," I thought, "I'm gonna get this whole fucker down my gullet." I sunk in deep and found the edge of my gag reflex. I choked a bit and tried to keep it quiet so we wouldn't be found out. I relaxed my tongue, molding it around the underside of his penis and learned that this allowed me to take it deeper without the gag. It was clear that this method was better for him too, I had gathered. The sounds of groans and moans escaping his lips expressed his pleasure to me.

A quick grunting gnarl caught me by surprise and I stopped for a second, thinking that I may have done something wrong. He grabbed the back of my head, before I could look up, and shoved his fat prick back in my face. "Oh shit!" I thought and immediately felt his liquid gold spurting on my tongue and tonsils. "Mouthwatering man-seed." floated through my mind.

He took a few husky breaths as I wafted in the glow of having my first taste of transient spunk. I kept his hastily shrinking member inside me, enjoying the flavor of it mingled with semen.

"Did you like that, boy?"

He pulled out. "I did Man...was incredible." I cooed up at him like a star-struck teenage girl.

He proudly chuckled.

He packed his cock back inside his briefs and the zipper on his jeans was up in the blink of an eye.

"I make runs through here 'bout three or four times a month. It'd be nice to pull in here with a reason next-time-round." he whispered to me, stepping out of the stall. I stood up, my black work pants losing their tent.

At this point it might be thought that this guy should should return the favor. But I was feeling that after glow of an orgasm without even having one...fucking crazy.

"Got your phone?" I asked, "What's your number?" reaching into my pocket to pull mine out.

He rambled his number out as I typed a quick text of only my freshly given nick-name. I thought to make all the letters lower case to emphasize my submissive streak. I hit send. "Shoot me a text when you're traveling through, next time, I can drop by and meet ya."

Shortly I heard a ding type ringtone coming out of his back pocket.

He reached back and grabbed his phone. He held it up to take a look and clicks on my text. With an obscene smirk on his lips, he says, "Sure thing...'boy.'"

He turned around to exit the restroom, as I followed, and headed back to his table. He crawled back into his booth bench, looked out the large plate glass window and then back to me. I'd again sat back down to eat. He winked at me across the restaurant with a possum-eatin'-shit grin.

All of that happened in about fifteen minutes. My coffee had been warmed by the waitress and my food had been delivered while I was gone. It was still hot.

I dug into my plateful of corned beef hash-n-eggs. I also cut and took a giant bite of my buttered and syrupy pancakes. Then I followed it all up with a swig of coffee. Food was good: I was hungry.

I finished up my midnight snack and had some more coffee as I sat there and contemplated what I'd done tonight. "It was all so HOT!" I thought. "I never dreamed that giving my first blowjob would be at a truck-stop to some stranger." I started growing some wood, again, thinking about it all.

I grabbed my ticket off the table, dropped a five dollar bill for a tip, and headed to the register. It was time to get home and take care of business.

I did just that.

As I laid my naked body on my bed, I reached down to my privates with my left hand and encircled my loose nutsac. With my right, I grabbed my uncut peter and began a slow stroke. I pulled my jewels down, nice and firm as I felt my little swimmers getting ready to burst out. I jerked faster. I could still sniff the male spice of that guy drifting up into my schnoz. Just a few more fist pounds...and I was gonna squirt.

I estimated correctly and was soon spilling a fucking huge load of spunk all over my belly. Before I lost the moment, I released my balls and scooped up a couple of fingers full of my nut juice and lifted it onto my tongue. I inhaled deeply to mingle my own scent with the flavor of my sperm. I placed those two fingers in my mouth, relishing the taste.

Sleep came easily.

The next day I woke up in the late morning and ran for the pisser. "All that coffee last night," I thought.

I came back to my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. My mind wandered back to memories of the unbelievable stuff I'd done the night before. "I sucked some man's cock...I ate his sperm." I couldn't believe how fuckin' hot it had made me when he took control and called me his boy. It sunk in deep, at that point, that my life was gonna change. I had become a cock-sucker; was fascinated at being subjugated; I wanted to practice and experiment with my new craft.

Well, I had morphed, most definitely. The place where I lived didn't.

Even though I looked at all the guys I knew and met with a new interest below their belts, I really didn't think it'd be safe to try and get at any of them.

Parents, for one thing. Townsfolk for another.

How the hell would I explain the fact that I was pervin' on the men around here and wanted nothing more than to eat their salty loads?

NO WAY! I can't do that, was my line of thinking. This secret had to stay MY secret. People wouldn't understand.

It occurred to me, however, that the truck stop would be a great place to hook up with strangers who wouldn't blow my cover. So, about two nights a week, I would get off from work and travel down the highway to look for some delectable man-meat.

I ran into several truckers and travelers in that restroom at the truck stop.

I'd hang my willy out at one of the urinals and lie-in-wait for some stranger to look over at it. When I'd notice him glancing, I'd give it a little tug and motion over to the stall with a tilt of my head and go in to wait. There were some who wanted to suck me off, a couple who'd just want a quick jerk, and then there was my favorites of all. Masculine straight and domineering dudes who were looking for a warm sloppy throat to pump their seed into.

It definitely occurred to me that a man couldn't really qualify as "straight" who was letting another guy suck on his putz. Therein laid a sticky definition. I mean, if a guy who was generally interested only in other men let some chick lick his nuts and eat his cum, did that make him straight? And, by the same token, if a guy who is usually only interested in girls happened to be horned up at some point, and got some relief from another dude, did that make him a fag? I didn't really know how to answer either of those questions, to tell myself the truth. I sought to suck, that's all I was sure of.

After three or so weeks since my first encounter with my buddy, he text me and asked what I was up later to that evening. I returned with a text telling him, "Taking your cum, if I'm lucky, Sir." I sat my phone down after sending and pondered my sexual activities since our last meeting.

I'd had some practice on a few poles since the last time I sucked him. There was a man I had met in the restroom who was completely preoccupied with taking charge of his "cum bucket."

Hot terminology...I remember thinking.

With him, I'd ascertained how fuckin' hard it made my willy to be dominated. He naturally called me boy, just like my buddy. He was also a verbal fucker and didn't seem to care if anybody heard what was going on in our stall as I serviced him.

He had briefed me when we began our little encounter that I was to call him "Sir" at all times. He insisted that I ask permission to lick or suck his nether regions and that I beg for his "spooge." It was somewhat cumbersome, taking that submissively verbal role on, but I did it in the interest of learning about all things sexual in male servitude.

It turned out being one huge fucking rush for me.

He would bark crude orders to me. He grabbed my hair like a steering wheel and guided my face in and around his groin.

"May I lick your smelly nuts, Sir?" I'd asked at one point.

"What a good little slut you are, boy," he commended. "Lick-n-sniff all you want."

During our stall session, he had even turned around and showed me his smooth white ass. He had bent down as far as the stall walls had allowed and pulled his cheeks apart with his hands. It was hairy in the cleft and I remember wondering at that. I sat there on the toilet, fully clothed, and was trying to guess what this ass exposure was all about. "Should I fuck him?" I asked myself. "Does he want me to stick a finger in there?"

He was clearly waiting for me to do something but I had no idea what it was. I saw his balding head lift and look over his shoulder and I got my answer. "Ask me if you can kiss it." he explained.

The restroom door made a little creak as it was opened for entry by another truck-stop patron. I was freaking out, I was gonna get caught with this old fucker in a bathroom stall. "Oh shit!" was all I could think. It turns out that he was no more interested in being exposed than I had been. We stayed quiet and waited to hear the zip of the strangers pants to signal he had relieved his bladder. With the sound of footsteps and another creak of the door, he was gone.

With a punch in his tone, he looked back and ordered, "Ask boy!"

"May I kiss your ass, Sir?" sputtered from my lips.

"I want you to French kiss it...real nice, boy...go ahead." he bluntly responded.

I had never put my face into an ass crack. I wasn't sure I was going to like it.

I'd read about and watched some porn of guys getting rimmed. I really carried no aversion or repulsion in the idea of it. The little pucker of his sphincter actually was inviting. And, I reminded myself, I did like pleasuring a guy with my mouth. It had just never occurred to me to delve into a furry asshole.

Once again, I recited my mantra in my head, "No hesitation, no reservations, Rudy."

I stuck my tongue out and pressed in. He moaned.

I reveled in his smell. It was different back here than it was around a fellas cock and balls. It was clean, none of the dark stuff that I had feared and was warm and sweaty. "What was I afraid of," I considered. This was just another delicious part of a dudes body to taste. There was nothing I should have been sheepish about.

I licked, sucked and prodded his hole. Kissed it "real nice" just as I had been told to.

From the sounds of his emanating groans and subtle whimpers, I had done it just right. I'd even reached up to his balls and stroked them gently as I feasted.

I ended up taking his warm jizz spattered on my open mouth, nose and chin as he jacked-off onto my face. He used his hand to smear some of his baby batter onto my parting lips.

With that, he meanly smiled, zipped up and walked out of the stall leaving me there, dripping semen.

No thanks, no words. He only left me the clear and defined knowledge of being used.

I'd decided that night that this was my comfort zone. As fucked up as it was, I felt at home being overshadowed, used and put-away-wet by a man.

I was pulled away from my flashback when my trucker bud answered my text with another. "11 o'clock alright, boy?"