It was last summer, and I had just turned eighteen and was on the graveyard shift of my uncle's all night gas station on a lonely stretch of Interstate 70 in the middle of Kansas.

It was 2:30 in the morning and I hadn't had a customer in over thirty minutes. My uncle runs a self-serve station, but at least I get to talk to the customers when they come in to pay; it helps keep me awake. I was just starting to nod off when I heard the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle pulling up to one of the pumps. My head snapped up, and I saw a big, muscular dude with windblown blond hair dismount the bike. But instead of going up to one of the pumps, he just sat sidesaddle and looked toward me, his expression one of total unconcern. My first thought was that the dude had to be illiterate, for the "Self-Serve" sign sat right on top of the pump in front of him. I figured if I stayed put, he'd eventually get the message and draw his own gas.

After a couple of minutes, though, that obviously wasn't going to happen. He just sat there, looking at me with that bland expression, his legs crossed in front of him with his ass on the seat of his Harley.

I'd had plenty of time to study him, and what I saw made me slightly uncomfortable. Not in a frightened sort of way; it was more sexual. His shorts were cutoff jeans, terribly faded and ragged, and they were incredibly short. He wore only a vest on his upper body, no shirt or jacket, and his muscles were obvious. I could see from my vantage point, roughly seventy-five feet away that he was a body builder.

There was a slight stirring in my pants as I decided I'd better see what the dude wanted, or tell him this was a self-serve station. As I got closer, I saw that he had an incredible bulge in his crotch. He retained his indifferent attitude as I neared him. Finally he broke the silence.

"Hello, Skinny."

That pretty much sums up my looks. I'm handsome (and somewhat vain), but there's no denying I'm skinny. That's about the only way to describe six foot four and a hundred fifty pounds.

I nodded as I made my own assessment of him. Roughly six two, maybe two fifteen or two twenty. No fat, just muscle. Beautiful pectoral muscles with erect nipples on an almost hairless chest made totally brown from the sun; large thighs, also muscular. A huge basket in his skimpy shorts. Hair blond with streaks of brown, thick, windblown, and long. One word description: Hunk. Make that two words: Beautiful Hunk.

"This is a self-serve station," I said casually. "You can help yourself, sir."

For the first time his expression changed. He let out a short, harsh, barking laugh. A one syllable laugh. It made me uneasy.

"I need some help," he said in his low, sexy voice, and as he said the word "help" I thought he gave an ever-so-slight arch of his midsection. When I didn't respond, he made it more obvious (he must have thought I was pretty dense). He gave his bulge a rough squeeze and said, "You can fill 'er up while I go to the John. When you're finished, if I'm not back, you might want to check on me."

I knew exactly what he was driving at, and while I was turned on, I couldn't leave the station unattended. I told him so.

"Shut the place down for awhile," he suggested. "Turn out the lights and no one will stop. Simple, Skinny."

I protested. "I can't shut the place down! If my uncle finds out, he'll fire my ass!"

The hunk sighed. He unsnapped his jean shorts, and the huge beast inside caused the zipper to descend on its own. I gasped; I mean really, audibly gasped. A semi-hard cock, the biggest I'd ever seen (or fantasized about), bounded out. It was long and it was fat, and it was uncut. And it wasn't fully erect yet.

"Shut the place down," he said again.

"Yeah," I managed to whisper. "Yeah, okay."

He smiled and ambled casually toward the John. There was pure sex in every step he took, and he didn't bother to zip up his pants. I couldn't take my eyes off him. As he got to the rest room door, he stopped; he removed his shorts, and then walked bare-assed into the john. I almost fainted at the sight of that beautiful ass, the white outline of skimpy trunks contrasting sharply with his dark brown body.

It took me several tries before I got the pump nozzle into the bike's tank. The gas had never come out so slowly before, and I cursed it time and again before the tank was filled. I fumbled with the cap and finally managed to get it back on, then I almost ran into the station, fearful that another customer would pull in before I could shut down the lights. The lights went out, and then I almost turned an ankle as I hustled to the John.

I shut the door behind me, and then locked it, just in case. When I looked up, there he was with that damnable smile, leaning against a wall, hips outthrust. His cock was fully hard now, and I swallowed (somewhat fearfully) as I beheld an incredibly thick, eleven inch rod. I'd seen big dicks before (though never one this big), and most of them that had braggable length AND width were so heavy that they seemed to droop. Not this one. It was a rock. The balls that hung below it looked like goose eggs.

He had removed the few pieces of clothing he had been wearing. The jean shorts (no undershorts or jock), vest, and black boots were tossed carelessly into a corner. He faced me totally nude, like an Adonis, and I needed no words to tell me what I should do.

Weak -kneed, I managed to stumble to him. I dropped carelessly to my knees, heedless of the crack as bone hit concrete floor. My mouth opened, and I could barely get his head inside. He placed his huge hands on the back of my head, and his fingers ran roughly through my dark locks as he rocked me back and forth on his huge fucker. I didn't even notice that slowly, very slowly, more and more of his giant cock was disappearing into me. The sides of my mouth felt like they were being ripped apart, but I soon had almost half of him in me. That was as far as I could go, and he sensed it and was satisfied.

He grunted and commanded, "Eat that big fucker, you Cocksucker!"

As I continued, his big hands slid down the back of my shirt, and with a savage motion he ripped it off me. He tore the shirttails out of my pants and tossed the ruined material to one side. I could feel his ample foreskin sliding back and forth in my mouth as he bent lower and grabbed the waistline of my pants. Realizing what was about to happen, I tried to shout, but it's difficult to do with five inches of mouth-ripping cock in your mouth. He must have got the message, though, for he stopped. I then removed my pants the civilized way. I might be able to make up a believable lie about the condition of my shirt, but never my pants! I kept sucking him without missing a beat.

"Oh, yeah, Baby, you give good head!" he hissed.

At least I had graduated from "Cocksucker" to "Baby." I felt proud.

His chest was heaving uncontrollably, and I knew the sign. His hips pumped faster and harder, and I would have been ready for the eruption even if he hadn't said, "Let's see how much of my cum you can handle, Cocksucker!"

Cocksucker, again. Oh, well.

I'd love to lie and tell you that I handled it all. Or even most of it. No such luck; when he came, he came with a force I was not prepared for. His cum exploded in rapid-fire action, and before I could compensate it was running out the sides of my mouth and down my chin, so much of it that you wouldn't have known his dick was in my mouth. He laughed, and I realized it must have been a joke to him; he knew the force of his orgasms and had to know what was going to happen; he was enjoying my failure.

Finally he pulled his still-hard rod from my mouth, and with it spilled out the load of cream that I had not yet been able to swallow but which was still in my mouth. I know I had swallowed a huge load of cum, yet a spectator would have sworn I hadn't gotten a drop; there was enough on my face and down my chest to have made up two normal loads.

In my naïveté, I assumed our session was completed. As I reached for my pants he snapped, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

My eyes opened wide and I stammered, "I – aren't we finished?"

Looking down at his rigid monster, he asked sarcastically, "Does this look finished to you?"

It certainly didn't.

He bent over, leaning against the outside partition of one of the stalls, and ordered, "Rim me."

Now wait a minute, I thought. But I only thought it. No use making the dude angry. I'd been rimmed by an older buddy once, but I'd never done it to anyone myself. To be on the receiving end was a hell of a turn on. I wasn't so sure, though, how much of a turn-on it would be from the giver's point of view.

He was getting impatient, wiggling that hot ass in my face. "Come on, man, eat it out!"

Not wishing to risk bodily injury, I complied. My skinny fingers grabbed either side of his cheeks and spread them. I admit the sight of his asshole made my own dick point toward the ceiling. I'd have given anything to have fucked it, but I knew if I tried I'd be lying in several pieces on the floor. And I had a sneaking and very uncomfortable suspicion that before we were finished, it was MY ass that was going to get fucked.

Deciding it was no time to be tentative, I dove right in. My tongue planted itself firmly on his asshole, and he sighed ecstatically at the contact.

"Lick it, Baby!" he gasped. "Lick it all over!"

Well, at least I was "Baby" again.

My tongue was still wet from his cum, not to mention my own saliva, and I went to work on his beautiful asshole as if I'd been doing it all my life. I have to admit it wasn't at all unpleasant. The musky odour was more of a turn-on than the opposite, and I reached between his hard-muscled legs and began squeezing his magnificent balls. Then I clutched his cock and began stroking its incredible length.

"Just make a fist around it!" he ordered, and I did. He began to thrust his hips, so that he was, in effect, fucking my gripping hand. I was really turned on. His asshole was completely saturated with my spit, my now-eager tongue having rimmed him completely. On one of his back-thrusts, as my fist slid towards his cockhead, I felt the slipperiness of pre-cum.

Without warning, he snapped, "Bend over!"

Oh, shit. Here it comes.

I knew it was going to come and I dreaded it. But before it did, I got the surprise of my life as his giant hands spread my cheeks, and his own tongue dug savagely into my own asshole. I practically yelled, "Ohhh, FUCK!" and he gave me the most beautiful, the most thorough, the most eager rimming I have ever had – and I've had several since then.

It lasted about ten minutes. Then his fingers replaced his tongue, and they began to penetrate and to stretch my hole. It hurt like hell; I have never experienced such pain from a finger-fuck before, but I knew he was preparing me for something much bigger, much thicker. He dug into me very roughly, and although I gasped and grunted I never cried out in any tone that could be interpreted as pain. He seemed impressed, for he said, "You're a tough little fucker, you know that?"

As the fingers of his left hand stretched me from behind, the fingers of his right grasped my dick and began to pump. I was pleasantly surprised again, for I didn't imagine him to be the kind who would play with cock – somebody else’s, I mean. He had barely paid any attention to my dick before this, yet he commented, "Nice cock, Kid. About seven and a half?"

He hit it right on the nose, and by so doing let me know that he had enough experience with other cocks to judge their length accurately.

His hand was rough on my rod, but I like it that way. Soon my own chest began the tell-tale heaving, and he recognized the signs. Roughly he spun me around, wrapped his lips around my dickhead, and I shot a hefty load into his mouth. I was in too much of a state of shock to comment as he turned me back-side up again. He spread my cheeks and then spit my entire load of sperm against my asshole. He rubbed it in with his tongue, then stood and planted his rod firmly against my ass.

This time I couldn't control myself. I let out a scream of agony as his massive head penetrated. He stopped abruptly, and rubbed my sides as he said, "Easy, Kid; you can take it, Baby. You’re a real tough fucker."

As the pain slowly subsided (comparatively), he inched more of it into me. I'm convinced I would have been ripped apart had he not prepared me with those savage fingers. As it was, it hurt like fucking hell, but I could take it. His hands caressed my buns as he pushed forward, and soon all of him was in me.

"Oh, Baby, what a fuckin' nice ass!" he hissed.

He ground his hips roughly, then began to pump. His thrusts were savage, and his stomach made a loud slap with the culmination of each forward slam. He fucked for about five minutes, then shot another load almost as violently as the first. I felt the first part of it; the last part I saw as he ripped himself out of my hole and let me watch as the jism splattered on my ass.

We both stood weak-kneed, exhausted. He reached down and tugged gingerly at my black cock hair, saying, "Baby, that was some kind of fuck. You got a fuckin' hot ass that just won't quit."

I smiled. "And you got a dick that won't quit, either."

I was amazed that it was still almost fully erect. "It's always at least half-hard," he told me. "I can't get enough."

As he pulled on his shorts, he said, "You work every night?"

My heart started beating rapidly. "Midnight to seven," I said.

"I'm headed for Denver," he told me, "but I'll be coming back in about a week." He paused. "I'll stop back here. And I'm going to save it for you," he said, squeezing my crotch.

I smiled. "From what I've seen, that'll be awfully hard to do."

"Awfully HARD is a good way to put it," he said with a smile, "but you can count on it. Keep that ass hot, okay?"

"It always is," I said, and he walked out the door. I stayed in the john, listening as his bike started up, and I heard him screech out of the station lot. It suddenly dawned on me that my blond Adonis hadn't paid for his gas. I laughed. Who the fuck cared? I'd have to pay for it, but a buck and a half was a small price to pay for the service he gave me.

And when he returned a week later, it was even better …