The room stank of cum–Paul had been busy. Earl noticed that he’d picked up some memories as well–he’d dug out the small trove of tapes in the dresser once the first video had finished, and had another one playing in the VCR while he stroked his cock on the bed–and what a cock! Paul was panting, stroking his ten inch cock from tip to the base of the shaft slick with the cum dribbling out in a constant stream. Still much, much too young though, for Earl’s personal tastes.
Paul looked up when Earl came in. One part of him wanted to be alarmed that Earl had just walked in unannounced, but why would he be concerned? He knew Earl…right? He had all of these…memories, suddenly, but none of them felt quite real enough to him.
“You’ve been busy,” Earl said.
“Fuck man, you know no one can soak a bed in cum like I can.”
Earl laughed, walked over to the TV, and gave it a smack on the top. The fuzzy VCR image turned to static, and after a moment, a perfectly clear image of a hotel room much like the one they were in flickered into view.
“What gives man? I was watchin’ that.”
“I got something better to watch–the show should be starting any moment now…”
Sure enough, on the screen they saw the door to the room open, and a massively fat man struggled into the motel room, and flopped down on the bed, heaving for breath. His shirt was covered with food stains, and he still had chocolate sauce smeared around his lips, that he licked at lazily. Paul looked over at Earl, wondering what the old fuck was pulling. A minute later, while the fat trucker was still lying on the bed, the door opened again, and a very drunk, hairy bear in ragged flannel and denim stumbled into the room, a lit cigar shoved in his mouth. Both looked at each other, surprised like they had expected to have the room to themselves, and then Earl hit the pause button on the VCR, and the image froze.
“How about we have some fun, eh Paul? I got these two guys here, and I know how much you like porn. What would you like to see them do, you fucking pervert?”
“I thought it was a video–what do you mean?”
“Tell me your fantasy, man,” Earl said, “Whatever you want to see, it’ll happen. Think of it as…as interactive porn!”
“You mean…anything I want to see?”
“Yep.”
Paul looked at the screen a moment, “I want the bear to strut over, fill that fat pig’s lungs with smoke, and knead his fat body with those big, rough hands of his.”
Earl smiled, hit play, and the two men on the screen started moving again. No longer surprised to see each other, the drunk bear walked over, taking a deep breath of smoke off his cigar, locked lips with the chub and filled him with his smoke, his spare hand groping one fat tit.
“Holy fuck, it actually happened?”
“That’s how it fuckin’ works,” Earl said, and paused the video again, “Now lets get a bit hardcore, eh? Let’s make ‘em get nasty.”
“Yeah, fuck!” Paul said, stroking his huge cock again, “That pig looks hungry, make him eat out that bear’s dirty hole!”
Earl hit play. They stripped off each other’s clothes, and the bear bent over the bed, legs spread wide, cigar in his mouth. The chub, licking his lips, got down behind him, gut resting on the ground, spread the bear’s ass, and dug in. Paul and Earl watched them for a couple minutes, and then Earl paused the video again. “Ya know? This is hot, but I just don’t feel like I know these two well enough. I gotta have a backstory, you know? Some history. Don’t those two look a bit too young to you?”
“Yeah, fuck–I love fuckin’ old fag truckers–they are truckers, right?”
“Of course they are, but what do you think about that pig? Let’s call him Matt.”
“Matt eh? I bet…I bet he’s a fuckin’ fat whore. The only thing he loves as much as food is drinkin’ cum, yeah, fuck. Glory holes, biker gangbangs. He’s been suckin’ cock across the country for forty years, the old fat fag. He’s so proud of his fat, he leaves his gut hanging out all the time, or he just goes shirtless, his ass crack showing, and all his clothes are stained with food and crusty with cum.”
As Paul spoke, Matt was shifting on the screen. His hair turned grey and started creeping back up over his scalp, and his clothes tightened up on his body, becoming a filthy, stained tank top and cargo shorts, both of which could barely contain his fat. “Now how about that bear? Let’s call him Jack.”
“Jack, fuck, I bet he’s a dirty fucker. Definitely a top, and a fucking rough one. I think he’s in his fifties, salt and pepper hair, loves getting into fights and fucking the men he roughs up. Yeah, he drives trucks now, but he was a biker back in the day, he’s still got the tatts, piercings and scars to show for it.”
On the bed, Jack started aging as well, his hair and beard shimmering with grey. Tattoos spread all over his arms, chest and back, and the clothes he’d thrown on the ground now included a pair of grungy, well worn leather chaps and a thirty year old vest still bearing the patches from his old gang. Now, still paused, Earl admired the ex-biker bent over the bed, in the middle of a moan as some fat pigwhore, buried his nose in his nasty hole. Fuckin’ beautiful.
“Now, I got a real surprise for you,” Earl said, walked over the the wall, next to the TV, gave a wave, and a hole appeared, large enough for an eye, or even a cock. “Get over here and have a peep.”
Paul did, and saw Matt and Jack, frozen stiff in room 103, and he let out a soft moan. A second later, time restarted, and he could hear Matt licking at Jack’s hairy hole, but Jack was ready for more. He rolled over, grabbed Matt’s fat, jowly face in his rough, scarred hands, and shoved his mouth onto his fat cock.
“Yeah, look at what you did,” Earl said, getting down next to Paul, who was still jacking off his huge cock, “But you know, I think the one person here who still sticks out like a sore thumb here is you, Paul. How about we give you a new life to match that nasty head and big cock of yours, eh? An old pervert, I think. What are you–70 and still driving around the country? Sure, you could retire, but with stamina like yours, you can keep going for a few more years, drillin’ glory holes in motels and rest area bathrooms, jacking off in your cab as you drive, talking filthy with other roadfags over the CB. Your old, saggy, pale, hairy body might not be much to look at anymore, but that ten inch cock of yours is fucking legend around here, right? Go on, blow that load you old faggot, blow it!
Paul shot his largest load so far, and as he did, he could feel his youth sapping away, his young body growing wrinkled and old, his saggy paunch and thin arms and legs, a full, dingy white beard. He suddenly couldn’t see as well what was happening in the other room, but he didn’t really care. He could imagine what was happening, in his mind eye, Jack pushing himself up, shoving Matt onto his knees, slamming his cock down his throat. He watched the two of them fuck for hours, not even noticing when Earl got up and left after shooting his own load next to him. The next morning, Earl couldn’t have been happier, watching all three proper truckers getting back on the road. He’d have another three or four in about two weeks, he couldn’t quite tell yet, but one thing he knew for certain–only certain men were made to be truckers, and Earl wasn’t about to lower his standards anytime soon.
Bracken's Corner 