So here I sit, driving down this lonely highway in South Carolina, headed to Florida for a little fun in the sun. I am so fucking lost I cant stand it, I left the interstate some 50 miles back thinking I was that "God of all drivers" with absolute navigational powers – after all I can find a warm wet hole in the dark, even when I am drunk and stoned off my ass – so how fucking hard could this be?

Boy, was I wrong! In the past hour I have passed nothing but trailers with the pre-ordained old cars on blocks (not your better mobile homes, but run down tin cans), barking yard mutts and run down homes that will never grace the cover of Better Homes And Gardens. In between those lovely abodes are stretches of dirt, sandy by nature with poor pine trees, that were only out-ranked by their poorer human neighbors.

Now I am from the rural south, born and bred ( not bred as much as I would like, but I plan on doing some catch-up in good old Florida). The area is starting to get very dark, there are no cars, no lights along the road, not even a gas station. I wonder where the hell do these people shop? They must need clothes, tooth paste, groceries. Then I start to think of that old movie — "Texas Chain Saw Massacre." This is not what this trip is about. I am more interested in "Florida Faggots Fucking."

I drive on. The dwellings now are not even trailers or homes, just a barn here or there and that never ending nothing of dark country roads. I read the signs as I pass, looking for a town, a store, something. I pass I sign that says "This way to food and the interstate." I turn off, heading back toward the way that I think the interstate runs. As I head down the road I spot an old gas station. This is one of those old stations that has no chain name, 2 bays for oil changes etc, a glass booth complete with old calendars and the one lonely grease monkey manning both the non-self serve pumps and selling smokes, chips, and rubbers. It looked none-to-inviting, but by this time I needed gas, some food ( I had smoked a few along the way and I am sure that helped in the " My God Am I Lost" factor) and I had to piss so bad my eyes were turning yellow.

I pull into the station and park at the pumps, and what to my wondering eyes does appear but a hunk of a grease monkey. He was wearing those coveralls that all good station jockeys wear, cut off at the sleeves to show big bulging biceps (complete with a Harley tat on the right one and a barbed wire band on the left). As I looked up I saw a thick bull neck and a goatee, big green eyes and full lips just waiting for a cock (even if he did not know it), topped by a military buzz ( even the hicks know how to be hot these days).

He approached with a swagger that spoke of hard work and a big cock, I glanced down to see that his coveralls were unbuttoned to the navel, showing off a rugged hard chest, thick with man fur. As he turned I could tell his legs were full of taut muscle under his work gear. As he bent to get the hose I could just see a nice goodie trail leading down into the unknown depths. Glancing behind him I noticed an ass that was just like a peach. It looked ripe and ready for the picking under his overalls, which I also notice were none to loose. As a matter of fact I had my doubts that the buttons in the front would close if he even tried!

"Fill it up!" I said. More than my tank was on my mind. I was ondering if all the men in this town were this hot. This guy was just a walking macho man — sing on, Village People!

"Sure thing, bud," said the pump jockey. "We don't get much traffic out this way this time of night, I was about to close, What are you doing out this far? Lost?" He said with a knowing grin — after all, what person in his right mind would want to stop at this pit stop on the way to hell. That was what he was inferring, I was thinking the same thing, but as they say " The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions" as well as hot fucking grease monkeys about to lose their coveralls!

"Hell, yea, where's the john?" was my reply, somewhat giddy from looking at his ass. Man, that was a hot tight thing. It bulged out of those overalls; it was all I could do not to reach out and grab a handful of that muscle butt right here in the parking lot!

Well, now the fantasies started to run rampant in my hot faggot mind. Just the very idea of being alone in a gas station john with this man was more than worth the 100 or so miles I had lost in my "short cut". He pulled the hose out of my tank (I was thinking of another hose that I was beginning to want very badly) and replaced it on the gas pump. Reaching into his coveralls he nodded for me to follow him. As we went around to the side of the station, side-stepping pot holes and weaving by old clunkers, I began to wonder if I was crazy. I was in the middle of nowhere following a strange redneck to the back of a building, not a house or car in sight. This man was well-placed on the macho side of the fence and here I was about to be lead down the old garden path by a huge southern man. The duelling banjos theme from "Deliverance" started to play in my mind.

As we rounded the back of the station he glanced my way while he worked the key into the lock of the john; he bent over to get a better look at the key hole. As he did this my cock stirred and I glanced at that hot ass. It was so firm under the sheath of those coveralls, I had my doubts that any underwear was present. He opened the door and stepped back. As I approached I got wind of ammonia (not the kind you clean with, but old piss). Mr. Clean had not seen this place in a while, if ever. I peaked in and reached for the light.

"Sorry. The light is out." He said. His look was none to apologetic. He even had grin as he said this. Those "Deliverance" banjos started back to playing full force.

The dim glow from an outdoor light was just enough to show off this t-room in all its squalor. On the left hand side was just a dip in the floor with 3 drains for pissing (none of that fancy urinal stuff here) like the kind of the things you find in old gyms and such. To my right was a grease-stained sink; beyond that a toilet so encrusted with filth that it may have at one time been white.

As far as I was concerned it was great. As I turned looking at my grease monkey, I once again thought how sex crazed I must be. He looked like the type who had worked hard all of his life toiling the many fields that were around this station, a guy who used the words "Pansy," and "Faggot" and not in a good way. The look of a life time of beer, herb, smokes and country & western bars (complete with long stringy haired girls that drank too much and fucked a lot) was written all over him. I could picture one of those ladies of the night now, straddling him as he sat at a table, grinding into his ample –from the look of it – crotch.

Best not to think of that. The old trouser snake was starting to stir and it was about to bite. Just as I thought that he reached into his pocket and produced a pack of smokes, shaking one out and without his hands placed it in between his full lips. I thought, yea, if your hands are always greasy this would be how you did that. He shook the pack and offered me a smoke to suck on. Like a born dick diver, I placed my face up to the pack sucking a smoke into my mouth. He flipped out his zippo and fired up his smoke, offering me some of the flame. I cupped my hand around his zippo. As my hands grazed his I felt an electric jolt. He cupped my hands in both of his and looked into my eyes. My snake began to coil for the strike.

"We don’t get many of you guys out here," he said, glancing at the ground, moving the dirt around with his big workers boots.

" What?" was my reply, as I backed up, not knowing where this line of inquiry was going.

"Gays, Queers, whatever."

"Why would you say that?" I muttered.

" That's one of those rainbow flag stickers on your car, right, man?" he shyly said, as a hand snaked down to tug at the crotch of his overalls.

"Shit!" I knew I was in hot water now, but I am a lover not a fighter – I was also beginning to get the idea that this might turn into some steamy sex or a hell of a beating. Maybe if nothing else, I might get to suck on his ass plugger.

"No problem, man. Down here we take what we can get," he belted out, once again not looking at me but staring at the ground while making "parking lot crop circles " with his boot.

As I stood there smoking I pondered this statement. Was it in the context of "We need the customers" or the one that I hoped: "I need the sex." As we smoked, my bladder was becoming a constant throb, I was unsure of what to do. Not wanting to turn my back and go into the rank shit house for fear of a beating, I just stood and smoked.

"Hey, man, I'm not going to hurt you," he said, turning his square jaw up and finally giving me another look at those big green babies.

"I'm about to close up. Want to fire up a joint and stay a few?" he said with those same pleading green eyes.

"Sure," I said as I put my smoke out, joining him in the art of "parking lot crop circles" as I ground out the smoke.

He reached deep in his overalls pocket and produced a joint. This he fired up and passed my way.

"Back in a few " he said, turning quickly like he was in one great hurry — gun? billy club? Was a "Fag Bashing" in my future?

Was this my chance to piss and get the hell out of here, or should I act on my growing need to see this stud naked. He went around front and turned off the sign lights and I heard him lock the front door. He did this so fast that I had no time to make any type of decision. Soon he was back, reaching for the joint in my hand. We toked, not talking until the joint was gone. Then we stood for a few in silence, both of us wondering what was to come next.

"I thought you had to piss!" he said as he went into the t-room, showing me two perfect dimples around a perfect rosebud of a mouth. My snake was roaring to go.

I followed and watched to my utter amazement as he lay down in the piss trough to my left. He grabbed his growing crotch, sticking his hands down his unbuttoned overalls. Giving a tug to his cock and balls as he gazed up at me, his green eyes flashing a passion that comes form a deep need for forbidden fruit.

"Gonna give me that piss, man," he moaned around those full lips, as his hips arched into his hand. What I would not give to trade places with that big mitt right now. The aroma of the t-room acted like a hit of strong poppers, as I took a deep hit of the thick air — this is what life should be like, I thought.

I walked over and pulled my cock out. A hot stream of piss started almost before I could get my cock free of my jeans. As it flowed onto his hot hard hairy body, he began to soap his body with my piss, running his hands all over his body, working piss into his ripe pits and lathering up his hands and sticking them down his overhauls.

He sat up placing his mouth on my aching hard cock, sucking a long hot drink of piss out of my cock. He would drink some and then sit back against the wall, squatting and letting me piss freely over his head and down his body. He then held his hands out, cupping them and letting them fill with piss and drank from his hands like a thirsty man at a water fountain. Then stuck his tongue out licking his grease and piss stained palms clean of my yellow nectar.

Back up to my throbbing 7½ inches of ready meat — he went with a flourish and sucked it clean of the last drops of piss. Leaning back he ran a hand over his mouth. "Ah, that hit the spot," he said. Then he reached down and started to remove his work boots. They came off. He peeled his socks and reached up and with one stroke pushed the always unbuttoned coveralls off his broad shoulders. They fell to the floor revealing the body of a God. I had seen the arms (I do so love tats) and the hard furry stomach, but now as the coveralls fell to the floor I got to see this man in all of his glory. Huge hairy legs, with thighs that were big and firm from hours of labor. In the middle of said thighs I saw two nice balls, above which hung a massive 12 inch cock — dripping cum juice. As he turned I saw that peach of an ass, furry and firm. At closer look I saw a pink triangle tat on his right ass cheek. I wondered how many of the necks in this town know about this!

He walked over to the filthy toilet and sat down nude and began to beat his now full and rock-hard twelve inch cock. I wasted no time and stripped off my shoes, jeans and shirt. As I walked over to him he grabbed my hips and spun me around, pushing on the small of my back. I got the idea and bent at the waist. As I offered my fuck hole up to him, he let out a moan and dove into my hairy ass cheeks, going straight for the chewy center. He sucked my hole like a crack head sucks a pipe. He pulled off with a pop of sound and dug his tongue into my rosebud. I forced my ass back onto his face, smothering him with my ripe ass. I had been riding for hours so it was hot and sweaty. he was like a pig in mud.

As he was rutting around in my ass with his face he reached around and grabbed my cock, slowly beating it with his fist, the roughness of his palms hurting but at the same time feeling erotic. I reached around grabbing his head in both of my hands and rode his tongue, forcing his face roughly into my ass with my hands at the back of his buzzed head. He let out a moan and came in his stroking hand. I was spun around and he placed his cum covered hand on my cock. Aiming it into his mouth he took my cock deep, milking me dry, as I once again grabbed his head, fucking his face roughly like a hot wet ass hole with teeth. He moaned taking all my meat deep, eating every drop of cum, enjoying the mix of my cum with his.

"Well, you want to come to my place and fool around?" my grease monkey said as he slowly stroked his cock, I watched as it began to stir to life once again.

"Fuck Florida! Hell yea!" I grinned, knowing that I had to eat that big meat, as well as play a little hide the grease monkeys wrench.

As we approached the front of the gas station, my Grease Monkey struggled back into his none-to-loose coveralls, his huge shoulders impeding the progress and the tightness of the coveralls not helping at all. Not even bothering to button up this time, so I had an unobstructed view all the way down to the root of his 12 inch prostate checker – which was still semi hard from our piss palace play.

I had put my jeans back on – they are my favorites, old and worn out, with a hole in the thin seat (showing off some of my hot tanned ass), one just at the left of my crotch and holes in both knees (I got them the old-fashioned way, on my knees sucking cock at the local glory holes). Foregoing the shirt in order to both cool off and to give my "Monkey" something to goggle at. I notice that more than once he eyed my ass framed by my almost – well cutting off the blood flow jeans. My cock was in a state of constant arousal, snaked down the right hand side of my jeans, forming an eye catching bulge.

He went back over to the station door, glancing back he indicated for me to follow him in as he unlocked the door. The glass so full of grease and grime you could almost belive that it was tinted, but, no, this station had been around for years. Hell, Henry Ford got oil changes here from the looks of it. He flicked on the light as he walked in, the light casting a shadow of his big muscular body out onto the pock-marked tarmac. I watched as his shadow projected itself in the expanse of grimy plate glass–which was covered by old ads for oil, smokes and the various other things that collect in gas station windows, I could see him move toward something in the back. Once again I thought well, is this now going to be a sex and bash – instead of your old fashioned gay-bashing. You can never tell. Just as I thought this he appeared - Nude – in the doorway, a beer in each hand.

"I thought maybe we would have a few beers before we left." Grabbing his growing crotch, back-lit from the light, standing in the door way he looked like a muscle God out of some porn movie, his cock dangling between his legs casting a shadow that reached out to me, as if to call me to its very maleness, begging for the full service that this station offered so readily.

As I approached he grabbed his cock, giving it an all-telling jack, and offered me a beer from his other hand. I entered the station; seeing the cooler, stocked with drinks for the kiddies, beer and cheap wine for the party animals in town. This was what he went back into the station for – well, one of the things. As we drank he offered me one of his smokes again, shaking one out of the pack and holding the whole pack up to my mouth once again. Again I sucked it into my mouth, only this time with an eroticism that was full force, licking the back of his hand as I bent for the smoke. This sent a chill down his spine and he shook with desire – he was hard-fought to stop shaking long enough to fire up our smokes.

Grabbing his balls and pulling on them hard, flopping his big cock up, making it smack against his hard stomach. It made a wet smack, hitting his cum and piss covered six-pack. I could see a few drops of pre cum fly as he pulled several times on his cock, repeating the flopping action.

I traced a finger down the center of his huge bulging pecs into the drops of fresh pre-cum, which was mingling with his old cum and my piss on his stomach. This I brought up to my mouth, sucking my fingers with the expertise that was soon going to be put to the test on his twelve-inch cock . I slowly sucked my finger, fucking my mouth, making wet slurping sounds as I removed my finger. The excitement was growing on his face. Those big green eyes began to cloud over with passion. One look and I knew that it was going to be a long night. He brought his bottle up to his mouth, placing the head in his hot red lips. He engulfed it, sucking on the head- – his thick goatee forming a perfect pussy mouth. He was not only a born rimmer, but as I had found out this "Monkey" liked to service a pipe wrench.

"Want to smoke another joint?" Going to the desk and digging into his overalls, knowing I would not turn him down. He brought out another joint. "This is better stuff. I save it for when I'm in the mood to party."

We put out our smokes and he fired up what has to be the most fragrant pot I have ever smelled and we drank and got stoned off our ever-so-horny asses. He place the joint fire end into his mouth and leaned forward to give me some shotgun, blowing the stink weed deep into my lungs. I backed off, held it for a few and moved into him, placing my mouth up to his, blowing the smoke back into his mouth. Our lips met, his goatee grazing my face. My mouth parted with the force of a tongue ramming into it. We kissed deep and hard–as only men in heat know how to do, licking and sucking tongues, grabbing the backs of each others heads–careful not to spill our beers. Our hips ground into each other, his filth-covered body rubbing off on my nude chest. His scent would be forever left on my old battered jeans. His body was wet with fluids, cum,piss, and sweat. I ran my hand down his wide back, enjoying the feel of his furry pecs as they soiled my smooth chest, him rubbing our previous sex into my body.

He reached down and unbuttoned my jeans, as he did this I kicked off my shoes, bending to remove my socks. I finally stood in the lobby of the station as nude the day I was born. He went over to lock the door. Once again I got a look at his furry fuck hole, complete with the fore mentioned pink triangle tat. He flipped the light switch, dousing us into night. Turning he dropped to his knees, reaching up offering me the last hit on the joint. I hit it deep and as the room began to swim, he poured beer onto my cock and gently began to suck it dry, pulling on my cock with a work-calloused hand. As a drop of pre cum formed on the head, he tongued it of with light flicks of his expert tongue, grabbing my balls, squeezing them for juice.

He stood. "Drink up, man, I'm going for more" and off he went to the cooler, bringing back what was left of the 12-pack. He opened a door to the left of the main "office" entrance. This lead to the two bays, one was a bay with a lift – that kind of H thing that you can put your car on; the other a hole in the floor (For changing oil, I think). Spread out around the bays were tools, tool boxes, old bald tires and old plastic seats (the kind you find in schools – orange, with a back standing on two poles, the seats old and covered in grime). The smell of gas, oil, old rubber and just that dank old garage smell prevailed.

"Better put our shoes back on," he said. I went back placing my socks and black shit-kicker boots back on quickly, as he bent placing his piss soaked socks and brown grease stain work boots back on. Bending over airing out that hot ass, as he struggled into his boots, seeing that aching lunch counter poised in the air I just had to pour a good bit of beer down the crack of his furry ass, dropping to my knees to drink the run off.

It tasted of salty sweat, intermingled with even saltier piss. I licked the fur on his ass, lingering to kiss the tat on his hard ass cheek. Placing my now empty bottle on the floor, I reached up with booth hands, grabbing a globe in each I spread my lunch, teasing the rosebud with licks from my hard tongue, moving the crack hair around in order to find the opening to heaven. I rammed my tongue home. His gash opening up to accept the slick wet probe.

I reached between his legs, grabbing his balls and pulling down hard. This forced his legs to spread, I pulled his big lug nuts back toward my eager mouth. He took the hint bending over more, clutching his ankles. This opened his ass up to for the devouring The firm muscles spread like a flower, allowing me the intro into his prize. I pulled his double handful of nuts back, sucking the tight nut sack into my mouth. The luscious cock fruit was so big that I could only get one at a time in my mouth, but I gave it a damn good try. With this he bent as far as he could, getting a death grip on his ankles, causing his thighs and ass to flex.

I reached under his ball sack and grabbed the huge twelve-inch man meat. I pulled back, enjoying the view as it passed between his bulging thighs. I placed a swollen nut on each side of his cock. I brought his pole back and began to lick from his cock up to that sweet hairy man cavern, enjoying the flavor of cock and ass. I pulled hard on his cock, forcing it back to his pulsing ass. The view was amazing. His ass began to pucker, hungry for a good self-fucking. I lapped at his hole. I poked a finger into his wet trench. I opened it up, pushing his cock into his own ass. I got a good three inches up his ass. I began to lick his ass, working my way down the shaft of his cock, stopping to lick his stretched-to-thelimit balls, full of cum resting on either side of his cock. I brought my hand up between his legs, pushing on the natural arc of his cock between his thighs, I pushed up, using an up and down motion. Doing this he began to fuck his own ass. I licked, famished with the need for his ass and cock.

"God Damn man! I cant belive this!" he moaned, clasping his ankles harder, contracting his ass in order to eat up his own cock. I suckled his ass, as I pushed up and down on his cock. Eating his ass while he fucked his hungry man cunt was just more than he could take. "Fuck, Man, I'm cumming!" He was making a self deposit. As I licked his cock, I pushed hard from between his legs and grabbed his nuts with the same hand, milking the cum out of them. I rammed my face into his man snatch, licking the hairy crack as juice began to squirt out from his cum laden hole. I cleaned up the cum as it wicked out and down his cock. The taste was all cum, old piss, sweat and best of all – all man.

to his head, pouring it down his body. As I saw this I dove into his ass, sucking hard – I got a gift of a huge load from his tunnel of delight and a wash of beer over my face and body. Now this was a "Gay Cocktail."

He turned, his cock smacking my face, its leavings dripping from my chin. I opened my drooling cock receptacle, sucking clean his cock of cum and ass juice. It tasted of a wonderful mix of sweat, my old piss, cum and his musky ass.

Reaching up his tree trunk legs I grabbed his ass forcing him into me, letting him rape my throat with his pig sticker. As he took my throat I gazed ravenously up into the green depths. He stared, watching as he made my slobbering face-cavity his.

Running my hands down the full length of his huge legs, I pulled off kissing that tender love spot located just above his cock. Looking down I realized that he had never tied his old battered work boots. I reached down tying them for him, running my hands back up this huge furry legs.

I gazed in wonder at the huge mounds of man flesh, all muscle from years of manual labor–the kind of natural muscle you get from lifting, squatting and pulling. Once again my hands grasp his furry ass, bringing his groin to my face, hungry for the taste of his "Monkey Wrench". Reaching down he grabbed me under my pits. Dragging me to my feet he kissed me, jamming his tongue in my mouth, wanting to retrieve some of his cum from my gullet.

We held each other demandingly close, running our hands over each other's hard bodies. As my smooth chest met his hairy packed full pecs, I felt weak in the knees, but I had never felt more like a man. Still breathing hard from our sexual gas station "Circus" performance – I know plenty of guys who would have paid to see what acts of contortion that had transpired (hell, most of us would give up years of our lives to be able to fuck our selves – not to mention never leaving the fucking house).

He turned, grabbing the ten beers that were left from the 12- pack. We were safe now; we had our shoes on. We once again headed to the bay area of the station. As I followed him I grabbed a handful of ass, causing him to look over his shoulder, the edges of his thick goatee turning up, flashing me a devilish grin. The night was long, and we were not yet done…