JB Truck Service Part 1
By Gruntraq - Comments welcome gruntraq@yahoo.com
The summer after I graduated high school I went to work at JB Truck Service. It was a small greasy run down repair shop and parts store for diesel rigs on the west side of town. The place was in a shitty section of the industrial district that only truckers, hookers and crack dealers hung out.
My dad had a trucking company and I had always been handy helping him with his trucks, so he talked the owner into giving me a job. They set me up working the parts counter and being an all around go-for. It was kind of cool because I was able to hang out with a bunch of roughneck guys all day who did nothing but talk about fucking, sex, fucking, and more sex. And they treated me like one of the guys which was really cool.
The place was plastered with dirty ragged centerfold pictures, and porno mags were stacked in the customer lounge - a place where a constant stream truckers hung out daily waiting for their trucks to be fixed. They are another whole story for later.
The bathrooms were filthy mess I got the job of cleaning each night. It did not take me long to realize that the truckers and my fellow employees regularly used them as a spank room. The Hustler and Penthouse magazines always seemed to migrate into there and they just smelled like sex. Why? Because almost every night there were drips and drabs of cum on the floor, the toilet seat, or the walls that I found when cleaning. We kept the customer restroom pretty nice, but the employees restroom was the worst. We were filthy pigs.
Our employee restroom was about 5x8 with one old toilet and a sink hanging loosely off the wall, its bowl stained black. The walls were unfinished sheet-rock covered be several old posters of naked women, some defaced with graffiti, and dicks drawn on them with squirts pointed toward their pussies or teeth biting down on their tits. The posters were an obvious substitute for paint and covered years of dirtiness and scum well.
There were dispensers of powered de-greasing hand cleanser clinging to the wall and a continuous rolling towel machine with a light blue cloth roll in it. It was the usual men's room stuff. The place stunk like piss and oil and was filthy from years of greasy hands. The bare concrete floor was black with workshop patina. My nightly cleanup of this restroom found plenty of evidence that this was the favored spank room for the guys I worked with. Me being the low man on the totem pole, got to clean up their messes.
By the time I was 18, I had become acutely turned on by men and was plenty experienced in the forays of man to man sex. I had been with a few of my buddies in high school as well as a couple of older men. I was not openly gay, but had the taste. I had played football, so I was man enough to make the cut in a place like this. To point, it had actually become a turn on I looked forward to be stuck with cleaning up the leftover man scum in the filthy hole of a bathroom from day to day.
This brings me to my perverted mind. It only took a week of this before I got daring and curious enough to taste some of the fresh cum left behind in the bathrooms. Yeah, its filthy and dirty but I was drawn to it like a magnet. Hardly a day went by that there was not a few drops on the floor in front of the toilet or nearby. It was almost as if it was some kind of game these guys played. Most of the time it was dried or almost dry when I would find it, but a few times there would be a few fresh drops on the floor or on the sink that were still wet and warm.
I would taste it, lick it up and drop a load of my own in the process. Imagining who's warm seed I was tasting consumed me. We had about 15 guys working at the shop. Some of them were studs that were drop dead fuck sweet, others were not so much. I figured I was probably licking up the loads of the old fat guy with snot all over his overall sleeves. Hear no evil see no evil.
My parts counter pal was James. He was my primary buddy and boss at work. He is 35, tatted up and is a pure a biker dude. Right off the poster, he rides a Harley Davidson Fat Boy into work every day and wears pretty much nothing but Harley Davidson T-Shirts, Levis and black Caterpillar boots. It is like his uniform. When I first started working with him he was intimidating. But the more I got to know him he turned out to be cooler than I ever imagined.
He showed me the ropes and helped me get to know the routine at the shop. But most importantly he treated me like his best pal, even though I was about half his age. He acted a lot younger than 35 and was always talking about partying. We just clicked as if we were the same age. Within the first week we had become fast friends fueled by his constant horseplay, jokes, and crude comments about some of the stupid customers. By the time that sense of familiarity and casual atmosphere of our relationship came about I really began to realize how fucking hot the guy was.
He stands about 5'11, weighs in at about 180-190 lbs. His arms are beefy and toned, as he has a pronounced V-shaped upper torso. He bulges in his T-shirts tightly at the top, and it dances loosely across his flat stomach. His face is chiseled and square with a sharp-lined blonde mustache and goatee, and butchy short blond hair. He looks just like the lead singer of Metallica. Hot huh?
Got of topic, so back to the cum in the bathrooms. I had taken to keeping an eye on who was coming and going to the employee toilet in hopes of finding out who was making me so fucking horny. After a week or so I had come to notice some patterns. One guy went in there to toke up. It always smelled like pot in there after he left it. There were a couple guys who made pretty regular visits during the day.
It was not long before I narrowed in one of the mechanics. Ted was not only one of the best looking guys in the shop, but he hit the can almost hourly for 5 minutes at a time. He was jacking off or he had some kind of bowel disorder. Ted was handsome dark haired and in his late 20's. He had an average build and a dark thick goatee, shaved head and olive colored skin. He was obviously of Italian or some European dissent. Damn.
I had already gotten to know him pretty well as he was always in a chipper mood joking around with me and James up front at the parts counter. He and James seemed to be good buds and they were always shooting the shit. I was excited and turned on at the prospect that Ted might be one of the messy pigs I was cleaning up after.
I started keeping tabs on his restroom visits. When I sneak away, I would hit the restroom as soon as he left to see if he had left anything behind. With customers at the counter I often didn't get there until one or two other guys had used it. So it was hard to nail down. After a day or two of this I scored when I hit the room immediately after Ted had left. I shut the door and first noticed the his musky smell, a scent of sweat, piss and grease. I picked up on the slight smell of ripe cock in the room as I surveyed the toilet seat, sink, and floor for the slightest hint of white wetness.
Coming up empty I was just about to give up when I saw it. On the old faded poster of Jenna Jameson in front of the toilet was a trio of thick ropes of creamy white juice running slowly down the face of the glossy print. It looked like he stood there completely unloaded his balls and walked away. My heart sped as I touched it with my finger and then to my tongue to see if it was in fact what I had hoped. When I tasted him, I dropped to my knees and licked it up as fast as I could, savoring the full flavor of Ted's fresh man juice. It was still warm! I lapped it like dog while I unzipped my pants and began to handle my growing tool.
There was so much of the ooze, it took me a minute or two to lick the poster clean. Noticing a small bit puddled on the dirty floor, I bent down and licked it up as well. Imagining his hot flesh in my mouth, I sat back on the toilet and unleashed my swelling 7" meat. Rolling the remnants of his salty cum around on my tongue, I squeezed a fresh load off myself in the glow. I licked my hands and fingers clean.
As I made my way back to the parts counter I looked at Ted working under the tilted cab of a Peterbuilt through the shop windows, his taste sill dancing around in my mouth. Oh man was I high on life.
To be continued.