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 Rest Stop Gay

   or

   Do All Men Always Bring Pens Into the Bathroom?

   (f-solo, M-solo)

   By Polly Ross
/files/Authors/Polly_Ross/

   pollyrossstories@yahoo.com

   I suppose I should put some sort of copyright notice in here.  So here
it is, Copyright 2010.  Also, it would be best not to imitate the acts
found in this story.

   There was a lot of writing on the rest stop walls.  A lot of "I was
here," "UND sucks," and "Roadtrip '02!" sort of things.  Most of it was
graffiti, but a few things caught Karrie's eye.

   "March 4th 2am Meet me around back."

   Meet around back?  For what?  And why at 2 in the morning?

   "Hot TV Linda Saturday 10pm"

   What did that mean?  The nearest Karrie could figure is they meant Linda
Gleason from the 10 o'clock news.  But that couldn't be right.

   "Blowjob Master 237-9124"

   Now that one was too the point.  The master of blowjobs and a phone
number.  Wow, that's bold.

   "Big Muscles and huge cock leave message"

   The things you see in the men's room.  Obviously, the rest stop walls
were some sort of sexual bulletin board.  Now Karrie was the glad the
women's room had been out of order, otherwise she would have never known
this whole concept existed.  But one thing puzzled her.  These were
obviously written by men.  But only other men would see them in here, so
what was the point?  Unless...

   "Rest stop gay."

   "Huh?"

   "Rest stop gay," Patty said.  "It's like prison gay."

   "I don't get it," Karrie said.

   "Look, you know in prison how guys have sex with each other?  Well it's
not because they're gay, it's because there's no women around."

   Karrie still didn't understand.  "What does that have to do with a rest
stop though?"

   "It's the same thing.  You have these truckers and stuff that are on the
road for a long time and they get horny.  They'll stick their dicks in
anything after awhile.  I mean, I'm sure there's a lot of closeted gay guys
going out there looking for dick, but most it's just guys who will fuck
anything with a hole."

   "How do you know all this?"

   "I dunno," Patty shrugged.  "Everyone knows it."

   Karrie became obsessed with the idea.  For two weeks it consumed her. 
Just twenty miles from town, men were hooking up in the middle of the night
in some grungy bathroom.  She pictured big, burly men who were so crazy
with built up sexual tension they'd release it on anything, even each
other. Or maybe, even her.

   It's not that Karrie was ugly.  Everyone was always telling her she was
very pretty.  She'd been asked to every dance since starting high school,
including prom last year, which is a big deal for a freshman.  But she was
still single.  She briefly dated a boy last summer, but he broke it off
after a month.

   "I don't know what you want," he'd said.  "Worse, I don't think YOU know
what you want."

   Karrie did know what she wanted.  It was just two different things.  She
wanted to marry a nice guy someday and lose her virginity on her wedding
night.  But she also wanted to get gang-banged by most of her male
classmates and half the faculty.  She wanted a threesome with Patty and her
boyfriend.  She wanted a strange man to grab her, bend her over and
forcefully take her innocence.  She wanted to do all those things and a
whole lot more.  She just didn't want anyone to find out.

   She didn't want to be known as a slut that goes around banging anything
with a dick.  That's what she had in common with the men who wrote those
things.  She was desperate to fuck and would do almost anything, just as
long as no one found out.

   On Fridays, her parents had bowling league.  It was rare that her
parents got home before 2am.  Her curfew was 11, but as long as she beat
them home, she'd be in the clear.

   "I'm just going out here to take a look," she told herself as she drove
down the interstate.  "It's interesting stuff.  I should have brought my
camera.  It's like some sort of post-modern art or something.  Maybe I
could tour the country, taking pictures of rest stop bathroom walls.  I'd
probably get famous doing it."

   The lot was empty.  This rest stop sat on a lonely stretch of
Interstate. Karrie had free reign.  She went first into the women's room.
Nothing remarkable about the graffiti, in fact, there wasn't any.  She went
into the men's room.  She'd been in a hurry last time and didn't have time
to explore.  This time was different.  She began to notice all sorts of
things she didn't see last time.

   "Need a cock in my ass!  D&D free!"

   "May 3rd, 1am.  Look for a blue car."

   "I'm here every Wednesday morning.  Come outside and grab crotch."

   "Big muscles, huge cock leave message."

   That was the one Karrie had been thinking about.  Who was this guy? 
"God I bet he's hot," she whispered.  Karrie was getting really worked up.
For a week she'd thought about him and she didn't even know what he looked
like, other than big muscles and a huge cock.  Karrie didn't even realize
she was rubbing herself through her jeans.

   "Maybe he's a lonely trucker, like Patty said.  Maybe he's sick of men
and wants a real woman.  I'm a real woman," Karrie thought.  "Well, real
girl anyway.  Maybe he's after a virgin.  Maybe he's just waiting to wrap
his big arms around me and throw his big cock..."

   "Uhh," Karrie moaned quietly.  She was used to stifling herself at home
so her parents wouldn't hear.  But no one would hear her out here.  "Ah,
ah, AH," she pressed harder against her crotch.

   "Wait," Karrie thought.  "Someone could come driving up at any time!"
They would hear her for sure then.  At any second someone would come
through that door.  She'd be caught for sure.  They'd see a 15 year old
girl, bucking against her hand and moaning like a whore in the men's
bathroom.  Even she managed to stop playing with herself before they came
in, (which she very much doubted she'd be able to do at this point), they'd
for sure see her wet crotch.  It could be him.  He'd grab her and bend her
over the sink she was holding onto for support.  He's rip her pants down
and..."

   "Guh!" she yelped and shuttered when her orgasm hit.  Her body shook and
she held on tight to the sink.  "Oh my God!" she said aloud.  "That was
soooo good." She wanted to stay longer but knew she had to get back soon.
But before she left, she left a note of her own, right under Mr. 
Big-Muscles-Huge-Cock.

   "September 9th, 9 pm."

   "So, I heard that Amber dumped Martin this weekend.  I mean, finally,
right?  She could do much better.  And you know what else I heard?  I heard
he's totally going to ask you to homecoming.  Isn't that great?"

   "Patty, you just said that he wasn't good enough for Amber.  So why
would I want to date him?"

   "I don't mean DATE him.  I mean go to homecoming with him.  He's cute
and he's a senior."

   "Huh.  I'll think about it.  I gotta go." Karrie had bigger things on
her mind right now then looking cool at some stupid dance.  This Friday,
she was going to meet him.

   Karrie sat in the parking lot.  It was 9:15.  She'd been sitting there
for almost half an hour.  She was getting nervous.  Only two cars had
stopped in that time.  In one was an elderly man, and in the other was a
middle aged women.  Obviously neither of those was Mr.  BMHC, which is what
Karrie had started calling him in her head.

   "Maybe he won't show.  Maybe his message was from a long time ago. 
Maybe Mr.  Big-Muscles-Huge-Cock is actually Mr.  Sicko-Rapist-Killer!  Oh
my God," Karrie thought.  "This was a really bad idea."

   9:20.  Karrie decided he wasn't coming.  This was a stupid idea anyway.
Like a gorgeous horny man is going to just show up in the middle of nowhere
because someone he's never seen before left a note.  Karrie got out of her
car and went to the vending machine.  As she dug in her pockets for change,
she heard a vehicle pull up, probably just another old man taking a piss.
Karrie turned for a quick look anyway.  Whoever it was has parked far
away, in the unlit portion of the lot.  It was impossible to see what the
person driving the car looked like.  It was too dark and too far away.  Was
the person looking at her?  Karrie suddenly felt very vulnerable.  Oh God!
What if he really is some sort of killer?  Karrie jumped into the women's

room and locked the dead bolt.

   "I should call for help," she thought.  "He won't be able to break down
the door.  I'll be safe until they come out here." Karrie thought for a
moment.  If she called the police, she'd have to explain to them what she
was doing out here.  It was a moot point anyway, she'd left her cell phone
in the car.

   Sound carried well from outside into the ladies room.  Karrie could hear
the person get out of their car, walk up the path, and go into the men's
room.  Karrie pressed her ear against the bathrooms' common wall, trying to
hear what he was doing.  Just then a ventilation fan kicked on loudly and
made her jump two feet back.

   Karrie took in deep breaths to calm herself.  "Go home," she told
herself.  It's just a guy doing something you don't want to hear anyway. 
Go home." She nodded in agreement with herself and walked outside.

   Karrie almost bumped right into him.  "Sorry," she said and turned her
eyes up.  All she saw was chest.  She had to look even further up to see
his face.  He was at well over a foot taller than her, and with Karrie
being 5 feet, six inches, that was saying something.  She looked down and
saw a massive bulge in the front of his pants.  "Sorry," she whispered
again.

   It was him.  There was no doubt in her mind that it was him.  Mr. 
Big-Muscles-Huge-Cock, in the flesh.  He certainly wasn't exaggerating.  If
anything he seemed to be understating his physique.  Karrie couldn't move
and couldn't make herself say anything other than "sorry" and she'd already
said that twice.

   Mr.  BMHC didn't say a word.  He just hustled back to his car and left.
Karrie shot into the men's room to see if he'd left a message.  She heard
the faint sound of liquid dripping.  He'd left a message alright.  Coating
the lower portion of one of the stall doors was a thick, creamy substance.
Karrie had never seen it before, not in person anyway, but knew instantly
what it was.

   Karrie crouched down and lightly touched the puddle with her finger. 
She didn't expect it to be so warm.  "Don't you dare," she told herself. 
"He could have AIDS or some other sort of disease.  Go home!" This time,
she didn't listen.  She licked her finger quickly and swallowed the drop.

   Karrie's legs gave out when the gravity of what she'd just done hit her.
She'd swallowed a strange man's cum.  She fell down to her knees.  She
liked it too.  She liked the taste.  She liked how it made her feel dirty.
He wiped her finger against the door and sucked Mr.  BMHC's cum off her
finger.  "Oh God," she whispered.  She put her left hand up her skirt and
started licking the stall door, fingering herself harder than ever before.

   Karrie felt like she was losing her mind.  Once the door had been licked
clean, she attacked the puddle of cum on the floor.  She lapped at it like
a dog drinking water.  Karrie stopped caring about everything else besides
the finger in her cunt and the cum on the dingy bathroom floor.  Karrie was
now laying flat on the ground and pressed her face right into the puddle.
She rolled onto her back.  If only she'd been more bold, it would be Mr. 
BCHM fucking her right now and all the wonderful cum would be inside her
pussy, not in her stomach and on her face and hair.  But this would do for
a consolation prize.

   She yelled when her orgasm hit.  It was the strongest one she'd ever
had. She rode it for a good solid minute.  It was so intense she thought
she'd pass out.  Karrie struggled to get to her feet.  Her heart was still
pounding.  She cleaned herself up at the sink the best she could.  She knew
she should be disgusted with herself.  She wanted to be disgusted with
herself, but she couldn't.

   Sometimes after her orgasms, Karrie would feel a wave of rationality
wash over her.  That little inner voice that told her why she couldn't and
shouldn't do the the things she fantasized about.  Or after her more
extreme thoughts, it would tell her how sick of a person she was.  She
heard the voice this time.  This time it was saying, "We have got to do
this again!"

   Karrie went back to the stall, pen in hand.  She'd been so busy sucking
cum, she didn't see that her old message had been crossed out and a new one
had been written under it.

   "Same time next week."


   *****