Date: Wed, 20 Oct 2010 10:06:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Randy Guy <chronic_stroker@yahoo.com>
Subject: On The Road

The following story is entirely fictional.  Any similarities between these
characters and any real person, living or dead, is coincidental.  The story
includes sexual encounters between an adult man and his pre-pubescent son.  It
is intended as fantasy.  I hope you enjoy.

On the Road - Part One: Rest Stop

I was traveling south on the highway with my young son.  We'd left at dawn and
had been on the road for several hours when he turned to me and told me he had
to pee.  I looked down at my empty coffee cup, and my own bladder informed me
that we were definitely in need of a potty break.

As luck would have it, we were just passing a rest stop.  We hopped out of the
car and entered the men's room.  There was a row of sinks to the right of the
doorway.  Across from these was a single stall, and a trough, about five feet
wide, which served as a urinal.  I hesitated in the doorway for a moment, not
sure whether to shepherd us both into the single stall, or to brave the long
communal trough, when a man behind me said, "Excuse me."


He had a gruff voice, and it startled me for a second.  I turned around to see a
large man, probably about six foot four and two hundred and forty pounds, with a
salt and pepper colored beard.  He was dressed in snug blue jeans, a flannel
shirt, and construction boots.  I guessed he was between 50 and 60 years old,
judging by his lined face, and his skin's leathery appearance.

I quickly herded my son toward the stall as the big brawny man walked up to the
trough.  I opened the door to the toilet stall, and physically recoiled.  It
looked as though someone had blown up in there.  Shit covered the inside of the
toilet, the toilet seat, most of the wall behind the toilet, and there was
wadded up toilet paper everywhere.


I quickly backed out of the stall and gave the trough another look.  It was odd,
in a rest stop, to see a communal trough like this, rather than individual
urinals.  The large man who had come in behind us was now stepped up to the
leftmost side of the trough, and was fishing in his zipper to pull himself
free.  "Well," I said to my son, "you're a big boy now.  Guess we'll have to use
the trough."

I looked at the trough.  It was made of stainless steel, and hung on the wall
about three feet up from the floor.  There was no running water in it; it simply
sloped gently toward the right where all the urine drained through a pipe that
disappeared into the wall.  It reminded me of a very large rain gutter.


It looked as though it were just large enough to accommodate up to three people
at a time.  However, the man currently relieving himself on the left was very
large, and didn't really leave enough room for two other men to stand next to
him.  But since it was just my little boy and I, I figured we'd fit just fine.
I stepped up next to the large man and began undoing my zipper, leaving enough
room to my right for my son to step up to the trough next to me.  I didn't want
to be touching elbow to elbow with the large man, so I inched over just a bit.


Apparently my son took this motion to mean that I wanted the right hand side of
the trough, and he quickly stepped up between the man and me and started undoing
his pants.  The large man looked down at my little boy, then looked up at me and
gave me a smile.  I just smiled back at him and stepped as far as I could to the
right so that my son could have as much room as he needed without bothering the
other man.


I reached into my open zipper, fished between the folds of my boxers, and pulled
my flaccid, three-inch, circumcised cock out.  I looked straight ahead, took a
deep breath, and let loose, my strong stream splashing into the trough, mixing
with the urine running from the man on the end, and my son's, draining into the
wall.


As I was just about half finished, my son suddenly says, "I've never seen you
pee before, daddy.  You pee a lot!"  I detected a slight chuckle from the man on
the end of the trough.  Children say the damnedest things.

"I know," I replied.  I was usually very modest in front of my son, and as far
as I knew, he'd never seen me completely naked since he was a baby.


"And your pee pee looks different than mine," he added after a moment's
consideration of my penis.  This was only natural, as I was circumcised, and he
wasn't.  I had refused to do that to him as an infant.  I knew that one day this
topic might come up, but I wasn't ready for it here, in the middle of a sketchy
rest stop bathroom in the presence of some old stranger.  What was worse was
that my son's observation had attracted the attention of the big man, who was
now looking over at my penis.

For some reason, knowing that this old man and my son were watching my penis
sent a tingle through me.  I felt my cock start to swell slightly with the
attention it was being paid.  My flow of urine faltered slightly, and my cock
pulsed, sending a thrill up my spine that I couldn't understand, and that scared
me a little bit.

"And it's so big," my little boy added in his most angelic and innocent voice.

"How about you just pay attention to your own pee pee, and finish up so we can
get going?"  I said with a slightly stern edge to my voice, so that my son would
know that I wasn't planning to continue this conversation right now.

We stood in silence, the three of us, all urinating at once.  I watched out of
the corner of my eye as the older man finished up urinating.  I saw his shoulder
move as he shook off the last few drops of urine.  Then my son spoke up again.

"Daddy?  That man's pee pee looks like mine."

"Hey!" I said very sternly.  "That's rude, little man.  You shouldn't be looking
at other men's penises!"  I looked up into the eyes of the older man and gave
him an apologetic look.  "I'm very sorry, sir.  He isn't used to being in a
bathroom like this."

The older man gave me a big grin.  I could see that he was missing several
teeth.  His nose was reddish, as were his cheeks.  I guessed that he had
probably been drinking.


"Not to worry!" the man nearly bellowed in his gravely voice.  "The boy's just
curious, that's all!  There's nothing wrong with good old-fashioned curiosity!
He just doesn't understand.  Go ahead, my boy, take a look!"  The man then
turned toward my son, and dangled his penis in front of his face.

This was the first time I really got a good look at the man's penis.  It was an
impressive piece of meat; I'll give him that.  It was probably about six inches
long soft, and hung straight down in front of his saggy balls.  Massive veins
coiled around it like snakes.  His foreskin gathered over the tip of it, a
droplet of urine still clung to the folds of skin.  It was surrounded by a good
amount of gray pubic hair that circled his cock and covered his sack, which,
like his cock, was huge, and hung low between his thighs.  "Wow," I heard my son
say under his breath, "It's so big."

"Okay, that's enough," I said, more to the old man than to my little boy.
"You've seen enough," I said again, trying to put my arm around my son and pull
him closer to me.  But the man wasn't getting the hint.  He took a step toward
my son and me.

"See your dad's penis there?" he said to my son, pointing toward my crotch.  My
dick was still hanging out, dripping urine on my pant leg while I was more
concerned about getting my son away from this old pervert.  What the hell was
going on here?


"Your dad had his foreskin cut off!" The man announced to my son.  Of course,
since he was still young, my son had no idea why anyone would have theirs cut
off, so he didn't understand, and his confusion showed on his face.  The older
man saw my son's confusion, and it seemed to agitate him.  He reached down to
his own cock, and took it into his hands.  He pinched the skin that gathered
over the end of his cock head and shook it in the direction of my son.  "This!
This extra skin on your dick!  It's called your foreskin!  Your dad had his cut
off!"

"Okay," I announced.  "Sex ed is over now.  Thank you," I said to the old man in
my most irritated voice.  I reached down to shake myself off and put myself
away, but in the moment of my distraction, the old man swooped down to my little
boy, catching the tip of his foreskin between his huge finger and thumb.

"This, little boy," He said, wiggling my son's tiny penis back and forth by the
flap of skin at the tip, "is your foreskin, just like mine," he continued,
indicating his dick again.  He let go of my son's penis before I had a chance to
react, stood back up and again put his cock into my son's face.  He then
retracted his foreskin all the way, exposing the head of his cock.  "See?  It
looks like your dad's now!"

My son turned back to look at my dick again.  For a minute, he looked like he
was watching a tennis match, looking from my dick to the strange man's.  Finally
he said to the old man, "It kinda looks like my dad's, but yours is bigger."  He
looked back at my penis again, and added, "But daddy's keeps getting bigger, so
he's gonna beat you, I bet!"  I couldn't let myself get an erection in front of
a stranger and my own son!  I'd had enough of this.  I put my cock away and
zipped up my pants.  I then reached down and put my son's little penis back into
his pants, and started to zip him up.


"Uh oh!" The old man announced.  "Too much attention makes the monster grow
bigger!" he said boisterously.  I glanced up to see his cock throbbing a few
inches from my face.  My son was spellbound by it.  For some reason, so was I.
The two of us both sat there and stared at it, like deer in headlights.  We
could see it pulsing, each throb making it stick up straighter and thicker.  He
was hard within seconds.  "I'd like to see your dad's get this big!" He laughed.

Another throb of his cock caused a drop of precum to gather at his piss slit,
shining pearly in the harsh rest stop lights.  The strange man's cock was now
about 8 inches long, and very hard.  The veins pulsed along the length of the
shaft, and the foreskin was now pulled back over the head, exposing his deep
red, shiny cockhead.  His precum flowed freely, dripping from the tip of his
cock onto the floor in front of us.  I was still bent over, my hands frozen on
the zipper of my son's pants, the huge cock pulsing inches from my face.  I
could smell the man's penis now.  It was slightly musky, with a faint trace of
sweat and piss mixed in.


"Oh, I gotta blow this," the old man said, taking a hold of his cock and jerking
his fist forward, bringing his foreskin up over the head of his cock, then
slamming his fist back into his torso, pulling the foreskin back all the way,
fully exposing his engorged head.  He did this two or three times, and suddenly
his cock started to explode.

The first jet of sperm flew out directly into my little boy's hair as the old
man made a guttural sound in his throat.  His cock was like a fountain, it was
squirting such huge wads of jizz.  Without even thinking about what I was doing,
I stood there with my mouth open, almost hoping to catch a taste of the creepy
old man's jizz.  I'd never wanted to taste jizz before.  I'd never even thought
about it.  But watching this big cock shooting right in front of me possessed me
with an urge that I couldn't fight.  I leaned forward as he continued to pump
squirt after squirt of cum through his meat, and found myself wrapping my lips
around the very tip of his dick.


"Caught myself a birdie with my wormie!" the old man yelled, and he reached down
and put his hand on the back of my head, pulling my face into his groin.  I was
completely caught up in the moment, sucking on his big squirting piece of meat.
He moaned loudly as I gagged on his huge cum load that continued to fill my
mouth.  He ground his cock into my head, trying to bury his seed into my
throat.  Finally I pulled back off his cock and stood upright.  My little boy
looked up at me curiously, then back at the old man.  His cock was no longer
standing upright... it had fallen to point toward the floor, but it was still very
thick and engorged, with the last drops of his cum hanging off the tip of it.
My son leaned over, and licked the man's cockhead, tasting his cum just like I
did.


"Guess I caught myself two little birdies today." The man said, giving me a wink
and reaching down to milk out the last few drops of his cum.  In a stupor, I
just stood there and watched as my son opened his mouth, and the old man wiped
his cock off onto my son's tongue, smearing his cum all around my little boy's
tongue so he could get a good taste of the man's cream.  My son took the tip of
the man's cock head into his mouth and sucked on it, drawing out any cum left in
the old man's shaft.  The man's knees buckled, and he braced himself on the wall
until my son broke the connection, and allowed the man's flaccid cock to drop
back down over his nutsack.


"Well you little birdies have a good day," the old man said conversationally as
he put himself away and zipped up his pants.  Without another word he headed for
the exit, and was gone before I could compose myself enough to function.  I
looked down at my little boy.  A thick streamer of cum dripped from out of his
hair onto his right cheek.  I reached down and wiped it off his face, but there
was no way to get it out of his hair.  From what I'd seen so far, it seemed
unlikely that the sinks had running water, and all I wanted to do was get the
hell out of there.


Without speaking another word to my little boy, I ushered him out the door and
back into the car quickly before anyone could see him with cum in his hair.


"Daddy?  Where are we going to next?" he asked me in his innocent little voice.
I looked over at him to see him giving me a big smile.  The whole freaky
incident in the bathroom didn't seem to have any ill effect on him.  In fact, if
I didn't know better, I'd almost think he enjoyed himself.

"We're going to find a hotel to stay in, buddy," I replied.  I needed to get him
cleaned up, and get that old man's jizz out of his hair.  I cannot believe the
series of events that just occurred at this rest stop.  What had I just done?
What had just been done to us?  And how was all of this going to effect my
little boy?

Coming soon:

Part Two: The Hotel Room

Comments or questions?  Contact me at chronic_stroker@yahoo.com.  I love
getting feedback on my stories, and any pictures of what you were doing
while reading are greatly enjoyed as well!