It wasn’t what I wanted to be doing, trust me–but when my athletic scholarship fell through because I couldn’t keep my fucking grades up…well, you end up back in the small town you wanted to escape, and you take whatever work you can find. I’d worked construction during the summers when I’d come home from school, so it was easy enough to find something to do. My parents weren’t happy about me living with them, but I figured that after a couple of months I’d be able to afford something of my own–that is, if I couldn’t manage to get back into school and finish my degree. Too much weed, too much drinking, too much partying–well, this was the wakeup call I’d been needing. First day I showed up for work, and I’m looking at all of the sorry ass middle aged fuckers–and god, I don’t want to end up like them.
One of them in particular, this guy named Chuck–he the worst of the bunch. So bad, that most of the other guys avoided him even. He fucking reeked like he never bothered showering at all, big hands crusted with mud, and that fucking shit he chewed all day long. This nasty fucking tobacco–he’d pack that shit in, so big you could see his cheeks bulge even through his tangled beard, and he’d spit that shit everywhere–or just drool it down into his beard like a fucking slob, occasionally wiping it off with a ratty handkerchief. Chuck could tell I hated him–but he knew it was because I was really afraid of becoming him–and he teased me relentlessly all day long. Look at me, smart ass jock thought he was good enough for the pros, and now here I am, working next to all of them. Thing is, I fucking was good enough for the pros, but I missed my fucking shot like an idiot.
Still, after a month, I was getting my shit together. I’d convinced the school to give me another chance, and let me re-enroll in the fall–on academic probation, but I wasn’t going to fuck my chance up again, not if I could help it. I made sure to rub that news in Chuck’s face the next time I saw him, letting him know I was getting out of this dump after all. He just sneered at me, like he knew something I didn’t, and that just pissed me off even more. But what the fuck did a fat nasty roughneck like him know anyway?
That next week, I started having trouble with my truck. I’m pretty handy with my old girl, but I couldn’t figure out what was up with it. I pulled out the fuel filter to check it, and found it…gummed up with this black tar-like shit, but I had no idea where it might have come from. Whatever was wrong, my engine stalled on the way home–I had enough momentum to get to the shoulder, but beyond that I was out of luck. I’d had time to get out and start looking at the engine when I heard someone pull off the road and park behind my car. I looked around the front of my truck in time to see Chuck hauling himself out from behind the wheel of his own truck, spit a big wad of tar onto the pavement, and start over towards me.
I wasn’t happy to see him, really, but I was happy to see someone. He too couldn’t figure out what was up with my car, but said he’d give me a lift home if I wanted. I told him I’d rather get my truck towed to the shop–and then he did the fucking…strangest and most disgusting thing–he spat a big wad of tobacco slobber right in my face, and then smeared it all over me with one of his hands. I was so shocked…I didn’t really have time to grapple with what happened next–he told me to get in his car, and that he was going to drive me home, and…and I did. I walked around and got in the passenger side of his car, he heaved his massive frame in behind the wheel…but he didn’t drive off. Instead, he pushed closer to me, grabbed my face with both of his big hands, locked lips with me, and started…drooling his spit into me, whispering for me to swallow it like…like a good boy.
My whole body was frozen, but I…did as he told me to do, sucking down the spit he was feeding me–and when he pulled his hands away I…I didn’t stop. I wanted to, I wanted to punch him and get the hell out of there, but I just kept slurping down everything he fed me, and one of his hands started groping my crotch, kneading my cock and balls roughly through the denim and underwear I had on, his other hand working his own cock similarly. I had a sizable cock, but his hand was so big he had no problem working it and my balls at the same time, and in a minute I shot, filling my underwear with a massive load of cum, spit dribbling down my chin as I gasped for breath. Chuck came a moment later, shoved his hand down into his crotch, got it covered in his own cum, and made me lick it off his hand. Then he sat back and drove me home.
I don’t know how he knew where I lived, but he did. I couldn’t even speak, I was so…fucking horrified at what I’d just let him do to me. I hadn’t even felt like I was in control of my own body the entire time, and when we pulled up, he gave me a sloppy kiss, and told me I’d call a junkyard to pick up my truck, and that he’d be giving me rides to and from work from now on. I could only mumble a “yes”–and then a “yes, sir,” when he demanded it–and I got out and went inside, avoided my parents, and after calling the local junkyard where to get my truck and telling them I’d take the title over as soon as I could, I took a shower, and went right to bed.
Bracken's Corner 