Random Hookup on a Midwest Highway

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#36 of Writing Group Challenge

This was for a writing challenge in a Telegram group I joined (link here if you're interested: https://t.me/joinchat/TXMB1RU1ETeKOakg). At just over a thousand words, we would write a short story fitting a chosen theme. The new theme for this week is, "The point beyond fear."

I thought I'd write a little abstract this time and keep some things up to interpretation. What do you think? :)


If there was a will, there was a way to get laid. Especially if you were a closeted gay.

Since time immemorial, the less virtuous of society's underbelly found different methods of satisfying an urge. Some simply couldn't invite their sexual partner to their homes. Most often needed to go somewhere random an anonymous for such an illicit rendezvous. Hotel rooms and motels cost money though, which made every horny male everywhere thankful to whoever invented the gloryhole.

Picture if you will, a lonely gas station resting along stretch of highway. The highway could be any of the countless ones cutting through the American heartland. Even at midnight, it did little to appeal to the eye. The aging neon signs constantly flickered. Half of the products on shelves were out of date. One of the three fuel pumps had been out of service for years. The station attendant either seemed too young and distracted or too old and miserable to want to be there. Hell, the floor tiling seemed older than the building itself.

However, various furs didn't just stop by the gas station for either a refueling, a six-pack of cheap beer, or cigarettes. There existed a certain hole in the divider of the last stall in the back bathroom. The men's bathroom, specifically. It could accommodate any cock with a diameter of eight inches, with even the hole's edges completely smoothed. Whoever drilled it in the first place definitely considered comfort for its future users.

Picture if you will, a car of indiscernible features pulling up to the gas station. A nameless canine stepped out and noted how only two other cars were parked in the lot out front. He hoped one of them belong to his random, nameless hookup for the night.

He entered the bathroom in the back and went to the second to last final stall as instructed. The last one was locked and occupied as promised. He dared not to look under the stall or or ask a single question. Instead, the canine locked his stall door and stood motionless for a moment, catching his breath and catching the faint scent of feline musk. It made his half-stuff dick throb suddenly beneath his belt buckle.

He unfastened it quickly and turned to the Gloryhole. Without waiting any further, he slid it inside and waited seconds.

The nameless canine then found his cock embraced by a warm and wet pair of lips. A rough feline tongue wrapped at the underside of his meaty shaft. The canine thrust forward against the divider. His paws clenched around the top of it, spreading his legs and allowing his balls air as his unzipped jeans fell to his shaking ankles. A relieved whine mixed with gasping moans, and the nameless canine's eyes rolled into the back of his head at the cocksucker's talents. If only he were brave enough not just to come here but come inside his unknown lover back at the house. If only he go past the point beyond fear.

Meanwhile, the nameless feline slurped hungrily at the canine cock provided to him. He inhaled the owner's masculine scent each time his jaw pulled back only to descend on the leaking pole again. The taste was intoxicating. The sensation was intoxicating. The sounds of low growling and moans beyond the divider where intoxicating. The mere act of giving a complete stranger head in a semi-public invigorated him to the point he could barely resist stroking himself. The nameless feline didn't so much give the cock and it's recipient a single scratch between hasty thrusts and the lingering leaking of pre.

The nameless canine loved every minute of this. He loved the feeling of another male sucking his neglected dick. He adored a swirling tongue polishing each exposed inch he thrust inside. He cherished the mutual understanding between him and the nameless feline; they were both flaming homos in need of release but didn't need a boyfriend for the family or neighbors to scrutinize. That was why the app they use existed.

The nameless canine grew stiff--well, stiffer than usual. His breathing grew hitched and ragged. His cock pulsed inside the soft maw he was face-fucking. He imagined it belonging to various guys he knew across his lifetime; The hot algebra teacher from high school, the jock classmates he saw constantly naked in the locker room, an effeminate twink or two who often shopped at his day job, and whom the nameless canine sometimes imagined inviting into the back rooms and fucking the daylights out of. God, or maybe even inviting on a date with.

Sadly, it would never happen. The faceless mouth (that would make a good name for a sketchy gay bar) would have to be good enough for the moment.

Meanwhile, the nameless feline hummed as his sexual partner for the evening started thrusting faster into the gloryhole. As it hilted into the hole repeatedly, the feline's moist lips enveloped and suctioned it faster. The canine was getting close.

Seconds later and a muffled snarl and resonant moan echoed out of the men's bathroom. The nameless canine cried out as he came and came torrents inside the recipient maw, which happily swallowed each warm drop.

A minute later and the nameless feline pulled his head away. He licked his lips and cum-covered nose repeatedly as his ears picked up the sounds of wrestling clothes and haggard breathing on the other side of the stall. The canine even bothered to wipe his dick of saliva and dried cum before stuffing it back inside his pants. Understandable, that one of them had things to do and only needed a quick, sloppy blowjob.

The two souls never said anything else to each other. They didn't exchange names or numbers or anything to give away their identities. they were two nobodies. They were two anonymous ghosts in the night with a common urge to satisfy and be satisfied. However, they scratched those itches, to them, nobody could possibly know. Then again, maybe one of them got off on the idea? Maybe one of them loves the unmatched thrill of a random hookup on a Midwest highway?