Full Service Truck Stop
Full Service Truck Stop
By Colson Grainger
AIM: SlinkyWeasel
Authors note: I'm not sure if this has been spellchecked or not. My computer reports it is, but I absolutely refuse to believe I have made zero spelling errors in the course of late night writing sessions. As it stands, please enjoy, and feel free to drop comments to me in the above posted info or directly attaching comments via the message system here. Yes, I know, this is not part 2 of "A Visit to the Chiropractor," but it does provide you with another glimpse of Joseph. Part 2 of that story will come next, I promise.
Fwisssh!
The brakes of his rig rested themselves with symphonic resonance, as if they were a tired athlete heaving with breath. With a heavy, huge boot thunking across the step leading from his door to the ground, Joseph the malamute disembarked from a particularly long stint of driving. It wasn't that the canine was late with his shipment, it was simply that he saw no reason to stop or take things easier. The dog had always been a man of strong conviction, and certainly, stubbornness.
The stop Joseph had chosen for the night was one of his particular favorites. It was a little known stop just off of interstate 80 in the heartland of America, and consequently located in one of his least favorite states to drive through- Nebraska. The drive always bored him to tears.... completely flat, devoid of any major landmarks, and on top of that, a hefty amount of highway patrol to enforce that ridiculous 70 mile an hour speed limit.
Shutting the door behind him with a squeak of its hinges, the malamute's boots scuffed the loose gravel strewn from the rest yard just behind the entrance to the main facilities. The nice thing about this truck stop was that it had all the amenities anyone on the road could want- rooms to rent for the night at an incredibly cheap rate, a coffee bar, a 24-hour burger joint, showers and steam room, and even a full time masseuse. The blue tint of flourescent lights starkly contrasted the dead still of black night outside the door, and made the canine's eyes sting with the adjustment. Slapping his palm on the countertop served as the dog's method of calling the attendant, who was truant at the moment. A thin, scraggly raccoon emerged from the room behind the counter. He adjusted his thick, black-framed glasses.
"Oh, uh, sorry," the raccoon muttered. He sniffled from time to time, and his eyes were bloodshot. It was fairly obvious that the ringed worker was on something, probably coke. "You, uh, need a room or towels or something?"
"A room. I've got my own towel," answered the large, broad malamute, in his characteristic, rumbling, deep baritone, hefting his toiletry bag up into the air and shaking it for visual reference.
Pushing the center of his glasses up on his nose, the raccoon took in another sniff. "Yeah, sure, a room." Definitely coke. Walking over to the wall where a row of glinting, gold-painted keys hung, a black painted paw took one off the rack, with the number '71' stenciled above it. "Number 71's, uh, yours." The malamute's paw absolutely dwarfed the raccoon's as he grabbed it from his grasp. He passed his credit card to the raccoon. The striped guy had a spat of trouble swiping the card, sniffling his way through swiping it too quickly, and then too slowly. After several repeated attempts, he finally got it through. Joseph just rolled his eyes.
"Thanks," the malamute said with a slight mocking tone. The attendent didn't catch any tone or reference, as doped up as he was. Lifting his toiletry bag to his broad, beer-enjoying abdomen, the malamute left into the adjoining lobby. The lobby was broad, open and spread out, and was surrounded on all sides by dark, tinted glass. In one direction was the coffee and food, one direction the showers and steam room, and straight ahead, the hallway leading to the outside foyer containing the rooms for rent. Being as it was nearly 1 in the morning, the foyer was all but devoid of activity. A couch in the right side of the open room was occupied by a tall-eared fellow of indistinguishable species, the pixelated glow of a late night infomercial illuminating the area. Tossing the towel he had with him over his shoulder, the malamute's boots carried him into the dressing area for the shower area. It was going to feel great, the malamute thought to himself, getting some hot water on his aching rear end. It was hard keeping your butt planted in a jostling and vibrating seat as you rolled down the road for near 14 hours.
The entrance into the steam room and the open shower room shared a common locker room. There was a row of indescript lockers, with nice, new silver finishes painted on them. A sign above the lockers read, "Locks available at the front desk for a charge of $2.00." The old dog let out a rumbling growl of frustration- he'd spent enough money already on getting a luxury he normally didn't afford himself. Taking a momentary visual inspection of his surroundings, Joseph concluded that his toiletry bag was hardly valuable enough to bother looting, especially when the place was all but deserted. Opening locker 144 with a flick of his wrist and an extended finger, the dog tossed his bag into the locker's canopy. Sitting his butt down on the concrete slab extending from the locker bay, the dog proceeded to remove his boots one at a time. Only at this point did he finally hear the quiet spray of water coming from inside the shower room. It sounded far off, and muffled by the architecture of the room. Lifting his head, the dog attempted to get a look past the archway leading into the main shower room, but was unable to see another person occupying the room. Perhaps it was empy and someone simply left a shower head running. Standing up after his boots were removed, the dog untucked his shirt from his jeans, and tossed it into the locker. Joseph's gut wobbled slightly, and as he usually did whenever he took his shirt off, the dog placed his broad, strong, thickly padded paw across the midline of it, running his thumb up the thick thatch of fur running down the center of that gut, his "treasure trail", slicking the fur backwards on its end. The dog lifted his paw to twist one of his nipples, finding each black nub stiff, poking from the snow white fur of his broad, immensely strong pectoral. Fuck, was he horny. It had been a long day of driving, and that night in the bar before he left.... He finished tugging off his jeans, wadding them up in a ball along with his shirt.
Finding that his broad, bulbous cocktip had dropped from the opening in the end of his white sleeve in between his legs, the aged malamute chuckled gravelly to himself, reaching down with a couple fingers, pinching the limp head of his dick in between two of his fingers. "Yeah, I know, you want some attention. Don't worry, I'm gonna spank you tonight real good," Joseph spoke to his own prick. After placing his clothing into the bottom of the locker, topping the discarded garments with his boots, the malamute shut the locker door quietly. He tossed his towel over his expansive, muscled shoulder, and headed to the shower room. He was surprised to find out he wasn't alone. Inside the tiled room was a mountain of a man with his back turned to the entrance. He was immediately recognizable as a very prominent species of stallion- a clydsedale.
A momentary sizing up of the stallion illustrated the fact that even the malamute himself could be bested in the arena of size. Although his seven foot height towered over most of his peers, he came up a foot short as compared to the monolith of equine power stationed beneath the clear spray of steamy water. The horse had quite a bit of definition in his deep russet brown hide, broad shoulders leading to defined latissimi on his sides, trapezius groups so large they threatened to brush against the stallion's occiput in back. Water easily cascaded down the hide of the broad stallion, following each strong, defined curve, around his dimpled, tight ass cheeks, down his calves, ending at his solid, fetlocked hooves. Suffice to say, Joseph thought the guy was hot, and his puppymaker stirred once again inside its sheath. Breaking the ice, as he always did when he was encountered with another guy who he deemed sexy, Joseph spoke up. "Up awful late, aint'cha?"
The stallion jumped, his hooves noisily clacking on the tiled floor. His long snout turned towards where the voice came from, and he sized up the malamute across from him turning on a shower, with just one shower head in between them as a buffer. "Oh, ehrm, naw. I just got finished with classes and I came back for a shower before work," the large stallion answered, tilting his head down to allow his blue eyes to gaze into the malamute's much darker brown ones. He turned his head away from the dog and stared at the spot in front of him, tracing the white lines of the grout between the green tiles.
Joseph reached over and made sure to use the soap pump nearest to the stallion. Any excuse to get closer to the guy was a good enough one for the dog. "Classes, eh? So you're not a road hauler, then? What're you doing in a place like this, then, if you're not driving a rig?" Joseph slapped his broad, black-padded paws to his chest, the thick, liquid soap soon whipping up into a lather across his gargantuan chest. The motion of the lubricated, warm lather across his pectorals made the black nipples underneath the surface of his fur begin to stand out through his thick, white coat.
The clydesdale shook his head and answered the large dog, "No, I'm not a trucker. I just work here, at the coffee bar." The malamute gave his showering companion a look. "What?" came the retort from the clydesdale. "It pays good money! I'm actually an employee of the truck stop itself, not of the coffee shop, so I get paid a much higher rate to be here. It helps me pay for school, and is pretty darn close to school too, so it's convienient."
Joseph rolled his broad shoulders once, and turned around to put his back to the spray of warm water. Suds rolled down over the dog's wide gut in front, washing away the dog's natural oils that had collected in his fur over the course of the day. "I didn't mean to say that it was bad or anythin'. I just was a little surprised that a big guy like you works in... a coffee shop."
"We've all gotta do something," the equine muttered, putting his head underneath the shower head, even though there was no soap anywhere on his body.
"So I guess you live around here, then? From here?" the malamute continued in conversation.
The clydesdale dipped his head and closed his eyes, putting it under the spray of water. For several moments, he didn't say anything. Joseph wondered if he had said something wrong. "I live here," the equine answered with a hushed tone, barely audible above the spray of the shower heads.
"You... live here? Here here, as in the truckstop?"
"Yeah," came the simple reply from the horse.
Joseph could tell that the issue wasn't a comfortable one. He didn't press the issue at all. He simply turned away from the horse, and went about his way washing his back, butt, and legs. His dark eyes stole a couple side-long glances at the equine as he bent over to wash down to his ankles and bare, broad feet, but the horse was in his own world, his eyes half closed as he slowly spun beneath the spray of water. One of the horse's hands lifted and shut off the water to his shower, leaving his deep russet body glistening and dripping with water. "See ya," the horse said to the malamute in a slightly dejected tone. Joseph was hard pressed to say anything to the equine as his heavy hooves slapped noisily across the tile as his dripping form was carried out of the shower room. Letting out a sigh to himself, Joseph went about his business in washing the suds left on his fur. He looked down in between his legs to find his pink pole half dropped from his white sheath. Grunting to himself, the dog took up his dick in a paw, and gave it a rough squeeze, causing the flesh to bulge out at the broad cocktip. "Yeah, I know, you thought he was hot. I did too." Little did Joseph know that in the adjacent room, the horse could hear him, even over the dying spray of water.
Finishing his shower, Joseph padded his way back to the locker room, grabbing his towel off the peg he put it on just inside the shower room. Rolling the towel across his broad shoulders, the malamute lifted his head. His eyes spied the room adjacent to the shower room, labeled "Steam Room" with black letters. He stopped in his motions of towelling off. Since he went to the monetary trouble of getting a room, the dog thought he might as well enjoy every single amenity the complex had to offer. Tossing his towel over his shoulder, the dog carried his naked ass in the direction of the steam room, slipping inside it quietly. The room appeared dark when he entered it, but through the thick plumes of steamy air, it was nearly impossible to see anything.
A final 'shhhhhh' of steam was released from the paneling in the wall, and then the air in the room settled. Joseph had himself a seat on the bench he felt along the wall away from the wall, and sat down on it. A squeak of protest was issued from the wooden bench as the dog's weight settled back onto it. The air started to thin. And then he saw him. Sitting opposite him on the other side of the room was the same stallion from the shower room. Each look surprised to see the other. Joseph chuckled gravelly to himself.
"Well, fancy seeing you here," the naked dog commented, leaning forward to place his elbows over his knees. It was at that moment he realized that the stallion was about half erect, his dark-skinned dick resting over one of his muscled thighs, corded with strong muscle. The wide flare at the end of the shaft was unmistakable. The stallion was big, to say the least, certainly bigger than Joseph was by a couple inches. It seemed to fit the clydesdale quite nicely.
"Uh, yeah, you too," the stallion answered after a moment of deliberation, shuffling his hands to grab his towel. He tried to think of a way to nonchalantly cover up the near erection he had been milking with his hand before the canine had entered the room. The precum slicked across his wrist and forearm glistened in the dull light as it speckled through the steam floating through the room's artificial stratosphere. To break the odd silence, the stallion uttered, "I'm Justin."
"Nice to meet you, Justin. I'm Joe," the malamute quickly countered with a smile on his grizzled face. It was impossible to keep his dark eyes from shifting into the stallion's lap. He did it slowly, as to not arouse any suspicion from the stallion, but he failed in his endeavors and was quickly found out. Justin lifted his towel and placed it over his groin, and tilted his head away, looking towards the ceiling. This caused Joseph to let out a brash guffaw. "What's a'matter, big guy? Afraid of showing off that big dick of yours?" The aged malamute had long since forgotten his own bashful shame he once had as a pup, and had replaced it with a certain outgoing sense of confidence that put off most, yet excited the few that would otherwise be... inconsolable. Justin proved to be this sort of type.
"Wellllll.... no, not exactly," the clydesdale replied with a tone of nervousness in his speech. The clydesdale's fingers fidgeted around the edge of his towel in between his strong, muscular, russet brown thighs, the sweat and steam mixing in the humid air of the room slipping in a creek of sweat that had dug its path through his fine hair. "It's just that I don't usually see anyone in here this late at night, nor anyone as... friendly as yourself," Justin continued, diverting his eyes from the canine across from him.
Joseph, in his typical forwardness, pushed himself to his feet and strode confidently over to his companion in the steam room. He spread his legs apart, and reached forward, cupping the back of Justin's head in his broad, leathery palm. "You just need to let yourself go," the dog commented, his upper body strength assisting in relocating the stallion's broad, long nose to the dog's crotch. Justin's hands lifted and he let out an 'mmmph!' as his nostrils were forced to drink in the dog's spiced, heavy scent, eminating from the wide girth of Joseph's distended cocksheath. The clydesdale tried pulling away instinctively, but the attempt only drew a dominating grunt from his assailant's mouth, and a firm responsive push of his snout into the curve of his low-hanging balls. "Take a deep breath, kid, and enjoy it. There ain't no harm in likin' a bit of dick now and then."
Joseph's comment only made Justin recoil a bit more in disgust. Disgust, not for the dog in physical sense, but more for the dog's unannounced persistence and tenacious persual of sexual satisfaction. The second attempt for emancipation from possessive paws failed as well, and led Joseph to become even more bold. Lifting a bare footpaw to the rim of the bench the stallion was sitting on, Joseph grasped his cock with one paw near the tip, skinning back the white-furred sheath that held his bright pink half-erection just inside it. The fat, broad glans popped out, with just a small tad of coaxing, and bumped the stallion's lip, leaving a viscous smear of jelly-thick clear liquid across the dark ebony lline. Before he knew it, the dog was insistantly pushing his hips forward across the stallion's mouth. Why Justin suddenly opened his mouth to let the musky pole into his muzzle was beyond him. It was like a natural reflex occured, a reflex that led to him getting an old canine's dick in his mouth. Much to his suprise, though, Joseph's cock didn't taste bad. Surely, Justin thought, this greyed malamute must certainly had a very acrid tasting flesh. And yet he didn't. The copious amounts of precum that dribbled from the broad slit in the head was slightly twinged with salt, and had a very creamy texture. Groaning to himself as Joseph's cock twitched and grew upon his tongue, Justin began to bob his head, again, a reflex he'd somewhat learned to do when he got a cock in between his lips, even if unplanned.
"Daaaamn," Joseph sputtered, his head tilting back. He relaxed his grip on the back of the young horse's head, yet Justin did not pull away. He had roped the hot young guy into his grasp, and luckily, his fat puppymaker did the rest of the talking for him. The pink length rapidly swelled to its full, fat length, and it was quite easy to tell that the clydesdale was both suprised and impressed, via his pupil size. Justin's long snout retreated from the midpoint of Joseph's shaft, and it fell from his lower lip with a girthy, weighty bounce, a string of saliva bowing towards the floor, connected from his lip to the beautiful, pink cock in front of him, before it snapped.
"Jeez, you're big," Justin commented, tilting his head as he gave the base of the dog's cock a yank and a squeeze. He was rewarded with a bubble of precum from the tip. Down below, Justin's previous erection had returned in full force, and perhaps carrying more guns than it was earlier. His dick's inspiration was right in front of him, a beautiful, broad fat cock that was so heavy it sagged over the malamute's tennis-ball sized nuts. Taking his erection into his own paw, Joseph gave his prick a kneading up to the head of his cock, causing yet another bubble of clear precum to flick off the head of his cock in a tendrily spurt, that struck the stallion's chin.
"From the way you look at my dick kid, it's like you want my jizz all over your face. That what you want?" It's not as if an expression could convey such a want, but Joseph really got off on marking cute boy toys submit to whatever whim he chose to employ that night.
Justin was obviously intrigued with the idea- his rough grunt and tilting of his ears against his head conveyed such a thing. The stallion got up off the bench, and kneeled in front of Joseph, tilting his head back to look up at him. Wrapping his hand around his stiff, ebony erection, the stallion drug his fist up his sweaty, black jock-filler until it reached the ridge of the underside of his flare. Tilting his cock downwards, he shook the rather large piece several times, flicking a whitish glob of cream off the head of his dick, which looked like egg drop soup. "Fffuck yeah, do I want it. Yeah, cum all over my face."
Joseph smirked to himself. It was a victory for the dog, getting such a wonderful, hot guy to be his inspiration for jerking off, and to be his target for a good soaking. Tilting his head, the dog shuffled his feet backwards along the tile to see over the brim of his beer-laden gut, to spy what the young stallion was working on. Ah, there it was, the object of his desire, his own personal centerfold. Justin was certainly hot enough to be in one, Joseph thought, and having him as a live model as opposed to inanimate print was fantastic. "Jerk that prong, kid, but don't you dare cum until I say so." Lifting his pink erection, the malamute let it go, bouncing in front of Justin's face, sending a single strand of precum whipping through the air like a sine wave.
Doing as he was told, Justin lifted his hand to his face, swiping off the strand of precum that had been flicked across it from the dog's cock. Combining that with some of his own natural lubrication, the stallion began to double-fist his erection, holding one near the base for stability, while the other wasted no time in brutally smacking his erection to death. It was a very purposeful stroke; it was readily apparent that the stallion preferred speed to get himself off. Joseph was quite the polar opposite, as his paw chose to give long, massaging strokes to his sweaty dick. They began at the base, and white-knuckled fingers squeezed the length of his shaft as the perspiration along the pink spire provided the neccessary lubrication for the job. The heat of the room, and the length that the two gentlemen had chosen to be in it, had finally produced itself two very aroused, dripping men, dripping nearly to the point that they were when they each disembarked from the shower room. This, of course, was the furthest thing from both of the men's minds.
"Grrf... rrrf.... fuck... glad I found you, Justin," the malamute said, using the clydesdale's name for the first time in the evening. His wobbling gut strode a back and forth motion above the horse's face, seemingly a countersway to those big balls the dog carried beneath his shaft. The silvered tips of his grey fur on the dog's fingertips was coated in a sheen of sweat, and occasionally dabbled with bits of precum.
"Shit... I'm glad too... god this is fucking hot," the stallion uttered, rolling his head around, flicking a few strands of sweat off his eyebrows threatening to sting into his vision. His strokes had started to become erratic, as most men's would, just before their climaxes. He was no exception to this general observation. As time went on, the stallion's shaft had ballooned near the glans, and that wide flare at the end of his erection gained a third of itself in size.
"Don't you fuckin' cum yet, kid," Joseph spat, noting the audible differences in the Justin stroked himself.
Forced to slow his advances, the clydesdale grasped himself at mid-shaft and squeezed stiffly. Precum bubbled through his cumslit like soap bubbles rising to the spout of a shampoo bottle. The pads of sweaty, broad footpaws noisily slapped on the tile floor as they carried the heavy, old malamute towards his target. Pushing his thumb up underneath Justin's chin, the dog aligned himself with the end of the horse's snout, his bespanked erection being pounded just in front of it. Without a word, and only an unintelligible sound, Joseph's first burst of thick cream ribboned out of his mushroom-shaped dicktip, to first impact upon the wet stallion's nose. It flipped up across the bridge, staining russet brown pearl white, before the head of the spurt dipped under the stallion's eyeridge. The reponse was a small jerk of his head, and the next several rapid fire spurts from the dog's pink erection noisily spat themselves out across Justin's neck, where rivulets of sweat had already formed channels, to which the spurts of creamy seed conformed.
It was so fucking hard for Justin not to blow his wad right then and there, and he had to squeeze his erection like he was trying to murder the shaft by depriving it of oxygen, as he felt the cum in his balls bubble up his urethra. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head and turned his cheek to the flow in front of him. The growling and cursing malamute above him jerked and yanked his cock over his wobbling, wide stomach, the pink cannon letting go mortars of pearl-twinged juice that clung to his hide like a perverse form of Elmer's glue. By the time he was done cumming, that is to say, no longer spurting like Old Faithful, Justin opened his eyes to the sight of a cum-spattered paw yanking along his erection slowly, as beads of fertile white juice collected in the resevoir of his cumslit like raindrops, before collecting enough fluid to seep downwards. "F-fuck," Justin mumbled with an open jaw, as a river of cum, poised like a delta at his upper lip, broke the dam of gravity and dripped upon his prone tongue.
"Start jerkin' yer dick, kid," Joseph said in a shaky, deep gruff of a command. Bending at the waist, the malamute used every bit of strength in that expansive upper body to lift Justin's legs at the ankles, above his hooves. The clydesdale let out a groan as he realized what was happening- the dog was going to make him cum on his own face.
Once he got the stallion's strong legs over his head, the stallion bent in half with his back on the warm, wet tiled floor, he pressed his hips up against the underside of the stallion's gallopers, holding him up, along with the assistance of one of his arms being wrapped around the young stallion's calves. Now with one free paw to work with, the malamute grinned in a most sinister fashion as he leered above the stallion. "You better start yankin' that cum outta yer dick, kid, or you ain't gonna like what I do next."
Figuring the dog for idle threats as opposed to serious warnings, but complacent to determine which, Justin gripped his erection in his hand once more, and set to pounding it just as he had minutes ago, before he was splattered in the mess of a canine. He was not quite on the edge, having lost it while Joseph put him into position, but it only took moments for him to get close. He was helped along.
With a bit of his own creamy jizz smeared on his index finger, Joseph's digit found its way to the circular ebon ring underneath the sweat-matted tail curled limply from just above the young stallion's fine, brown butt. It was an ass to simply worship, curved, tight, and with it so smooth and wet with steam and sweat, it invited the canine's rough attention, afforded by Joseph's own permission 'slip.'
That slip was his finger, right up to the metatarsal bone, the entirety of his thick digit wiggled into the stallion butt hoisted in the air. It immidiately clamped down on his finger reflexively, but Joseph was in no mood to be withstood, and he tortured that silken passage with rapid, gyrating movements of his fingertip. He knew just where Justin's prostate was, after a moment of fiddling around, and that's just where the old dog concentrated. The final bit of stimulation proved to be all that Justin needed. The horse's back arched, and he noisily sputtered out several expletives while a tower of white rocketed from his swollen flare, to reach the stratosphere of the steam room. Nearly 5 feet in height was reached by that first spurt, horizontal height that is, and shot completely over the stallion's head, due to the fact his back arching caused a mis-aim. The loud SMACK with which it impacted the wall caused the malamute's softened dick to jerk between his thighs. From such an audible splashing, the malamute thought the stallion could've dented steel with his orgasm. But steel he did not dent, no, he simply plastered himself in white goo.
When the stallion's black erection was aligned on course, he hit bullseye, and several times. The spurts of his jizz conformed to the diamater of his urethra, which, as such, rendered them gigantic. Slapping his right cheek with a burst, the splash of goop spread out upon impact to swathe nearly tne entire ridge of the stallion's cheekbone. Growling with delight above, the malamute jammed his digit rapidly in and out of the stallion's gripping ass, in time with his jets of cream that clung to his neck, chin, and face. Ebon lips were lost in a gloss of white, and the cool, dark black end of Justin's snout was soon littered in errant mosaics of his own jizm. As it dribbled out of his erection, post-explosion, it matted his mane to the already sticky tiled floor, a mix of two seminal fluids (though mostly the stallion's), sweat, and condensation.
Survaying the mess he had helped the young man make, Joseph chuckled to himself. His obese erection was once again stiff as a flagpole.
"Nice show, guys," came an unidentified voice, who was standing in the open doorway to the steam room. It seemed, to lifting heads, that he had been there, watching all the time. It was a feline of some time, perhaps a tiger. All that could be seen by the malamute and the horse was that the man was stroking his very lengthy cock, which stood impeccably erect. "Got room for one more?" he asked.