I feel your eyes following the curve of my denim-covered ass. It’s a nice, round bottom, and the jeans are tight enough that you, staring as you are, can almost see the crack that splits my two moons. I probably shouldn’t be taking such pleasure in you staring at me this way, but what the fuck, right? Some flea-bitten, nowhere-ville in the middle of East Bumfuck? My ass is likely the sweetest thing you’ve seen in these parts for a while.

I hook the gas nozzle back up, after filling my tank, and saunter, slowly, into the tiny store attached to the gas station. Some gum and a cola would be nice. No chips, they’re bad for your heart. I feel the strain in my bladder. Heading up to the front where the cashier-boy waits, I grab a twin-pack of cupcakes instead. I toss my long hair over my shoulder, smile sassy-like at him. I can almost feel his stiffy growing behind the counter. Poor little man. He’s gonna have dirty undies tonight!

“You gotta bathroom?” I ask, passing him a fiver for my stuff.

“Out back.” He passes me my change, and I watch his raw Adam’s apple move in his throat with little jerky motions.

“Round the corner there?” I point.

“yup. You’re gonna need a key.”

“You got the key, then?” I feel the insistent press of urine. He hands me the key as he stares at my tits.

I drop my bag of stuff into the car before I head ’round the corner to get some relief. I bend over so the old guy sitting in the chair can see my ass real good. I hear the zing-ting of his tobacco juice hit the coffee can between his feet.

So. Fucking. Ugh. Dunno why men think chewing chaw is any better for ’em than smoking. Like yellow teeth and tongue cancer is a better option?

I have to fiddle with the key a bit. The door is heavy, and closes behind me with a thud. I flick on the switch, setting an overhead light to its bitter glow. The room is redolent with piss, the floor is sticky. I hope its toilet overflow but from the smell, I can guess that the two out front are not careful enough with their pee to aim. I lay a few precious sheets of tp on the seat.

Such relief! The hot gush of urine makes me shiver a bit, and the pleasure of the release is like a urine-orgasm. Not with the same kind of sensual overload as a sexual orgasm, but the feeling of release is a cousin.

Standing, I peel the paper off my thighs, and step gingerly up to the sink to wash. I’m just not going to touch the flusher. They can suck it up and deal with the piss pot full of my piss. Fucking neanderthals.

I wash my hands, and pull on the door.

Chaw-man is standing right fucking there.

“I moved your car round to the side here. You left your keys in it.”

My mouth opens, closes.


I step forward but he doesn’t step back, doesn’t allow me to pass. I press forward, my tits hitting his chest. He steps forward too,  easily pushing me back into the gross bathroom. The door shuts again with that same, heavy thunk. This time the sound is ominous.

Without a word, he grabs hunks of  hair from over each ear and pushes me down to the floor. I whimper and moan, but he ignores me.

“Unzip, and eat.”

I want to shake my head, but his grip on my hair is too tight. Instead, my hands shake as I reach up to release his cock. The smell of stale, male urine almost makes me retch. The smell is so shockingly intense, I can taste it in the back of my throat, and gagging, I try to recoil. Instead, he pulls my head closer.

The cock is thick and more than half-hard.

“Cock tease? You need to finish what you started out there. Get to work. You suck me off good, and I’ll let you go. I’m not happy and you’ll be hanging out here entertaining ‘guests’ for a few days until you perfect your sucking skills. How fast you learn is up to you.”

I look up at him, my eyes tearing at the pull of my hair, and his implied threat.

I open my mouth and use my tongue to coax him inside. My mouth is warm, and the taste of his piss makes me shiver. He does nothing, making it clear that I must do all the work, all the pleasing here. I curl my lips around his shaft, and suck gently. My tongue finds that weepy hole, and flicks across it before delving into it like a little drill.

He moans, but remains steady. I press my head forward and take more of him. My lips stretch out as his cock flares wider. I feel the head press against the back of my tongue and feel the gag. I can’t! I can’t press him any deeper.

He shimmies his hips forward just a bit, and buries the last bit in my throat. I gag, attempt to pull off, but for a moment, then two, he holds me there.

“Suck it” he growls.

I feel my cheeks concave as I pull air out and collapse my lips tight around his cock. My tongue cradles the thick rod, and at last he pulls back just a bit. I tip my head back, snatch a breath, then trace my tongue around the rim of his cockhead. Pulling my head back further, I close my lips around that helmet, and tug backwards, while sucking firmly. My fingers reach up to caress his ballsack, hanging there neglected.

I let my lips pop off his cockhead with an audible snap. He moans again.

I lap my way down the underside of his cock and his hands go limp in my hair. I notice my knees aching on the hard concrete, and the strong stench of urine as I bend to suckle his balls. I feel them tighten in response, and the twitch of his cock against my cheek.

Lapping my way back to the tip, I taste the sweetness of his pre-cum. I paint it on my lips like expensive gloss, then look up at him and smack my lips together. I lick it off, then bending, hold my lips tight together as I ram my mouth down on his rigid dick. His hips jerk and I feel the first spasm of cum.

A taste on my tongue, then he rips his cock from my mouth and jets his cream on my upturned face.

Holding onto the sink for support, he gruffly orders me to remove my jeans and panties, to sit on the toilet. I obey; what choice do I have? He leans over, fingers my pussy, grunts. Standing, he jets a stream of tobacco juice against my pussy, then tosses me my car keys.

The door shuts behind him, but not before I hear his last command.

“Don’t you fucking dare wash that off now, girl.”

It is disguising. Horrible. Embarrassing.

He felt my pussy, soaking with my own juice.

And added his own.

I dress hurriedly and get in my car. Before I reach the next town, I pull over to the side of the road and get myself off. Hands in my pants, I rub my clit until my burning pussy explodes. I take my hand out and smell it.

Pussy juice and tobacco.

I don’t wash my hand for a while, but I’m smiling as I drive into the sunset.


7 thoughts on “Juiced”

    1. 🙂

      It says that You’re very happy with who you are, S.Sir! Confident, and dark. Kinda like rich chocolate.


      1. LOL…. We could make bad references to overtly strict potty training. Or, hatred of dirty bathrooms… Or is that dislike of cleaning dirty bathrooms?

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