29
We still smelled like sex, but not the good leftover smell of sex. That smell had fermented into something more akin to mold on our bodies and we needed to wash it off, to make way for new and fresher sex smells. Billy slipped on a pair of sweatpants and sneakers, while I borrowed one of his flannels that went down to my knees and my Converse sneakers. We hopped into the truck’s front seats and set off down the highway.
Not too long after, we pulled into some kind of parking lot with a whole bunch of different sized trucks filling the spaces. In the middle of the lot was a decent sized building. We parked at the back of the lot—those spots get more shade, Billy said—and parked the truck. As we walked through the lot, I saw several men sleeping at the wheel, though plenty more were partaking in outside activities: some were stretching and doing various pull-ups on bars suctioned to the outside of their trucks, some were reading outside on the back ledges of the truck, and some were talking on their cell phones. They nodded at us as we walked by. I was sure they thought I was some kind of stray hitchhiker he gave a ride to, and it actually wasn’t completely far off from the truth. I was waiting at Dreamz for someone or something to take me to wherever my next step in life was, and that step seemed to be a truck filled with lots of pairs of panties.
We arrived at the building. It was plain-looking with gray paint on all sides, no windows, and only a door with a coin-operated lock. Billy pulled a few quarters out of his pocket, put them in the door, and turned the latch and it locked behind us.
“These are, like, the Mercedes of truck-stop showers. Only the finest for you!” he said with a grin. He opened the door with a flourish.
Inside, it was incredibly clean, with various soaps and shampoos and conditioners lined up on the wall for anyone’s use. I never expected that a shower on an off-ramp on a highway could be so glamorous. It was a big open room with no shower curtain, and light and dark brown checkered tile. We quickly undressed, giddy at the thought of warm water rushing over us. He turned the shower on and it was the absolute perfect pressure, unlike the shower in my house which felt much like a very dehydrated person was peeing on me. The nozzle was large, like a flying saucer that rained down enough water to cover the both of us.
We let the water soothe our bodies, grabbing soap to scrub away the gross things on our skin, letting the suds of soap fizz up on us. We kissed in the stream of warm water—between this and the make-out session in the monsoon yesterday, we appeared to be quite good at kissing underwater. Something about the wetness pouring on our heads and our saliva mixing with one another’s brought a beautiful energy between us. I grabbed a new body puff out of the package and soaped up his body. I cleaned his elbows and his knees, and his armpits. He scrubbed my breasts and my stomach—the smell of the soap was so pure and clean—and then he massaged shampoo into my hair, slowly, the way someone at a professional hair salon would do.
Eventually, I went down his body and soaped up his crotch. I finally got a good look at his penis. It wasn’t erect but it still looked thick, and his testicles were perfectly round and soft. I was giddy thinking about all the fun I could have with it. I rinsed the soap off, and put the conditioner in my hair. I had frizzy, uncooperative hair, and conditioner had to remain in it for at least eight to twelve minutes for it to be at all effective. I looked at Billy’s cock and thought of a perfect way to pass the time. I knew the way his mouth tasted, I knew the way his cum tasted, and I knew the way his organic microwave burritos tasted, but I actually didn’t know the way his cock tasted and I wanted that to change.
I knelt down on the tile floor with half a bottle of conditioner penetrating my hair and I began stroking Billy’s cock. He looked down at me in anticipation, watching to see what move I would make next. It had been over a year since I had anyone’s penis in my mouth—I was like some kind of born-again blow-job virgin. I really, really wanted to make him feel good. I had never experienced this feeling when confronted with a cock in my face. I will shamefully admit that with all the blow jobs in my life prior to this moment, I was just going through the motions, sucking dutifully until the cock was hard enough to stick inside of me. What a difference it was to have a cock in front of me attached to someone I truly wanted to please! I had some new visuals in my brain from the snippets of pornography I saw on the monitors in the ROOMZ at work. With a little inspiration from those, along with just following my own instincts, I would give a new and improved blow job.
I stroked his cock into my mouth. He let out a moan as my tongue hit his small head. I stroked it with one hand, and once it was erect it was large enough for both of my hands to fit around it. I used lots of spit—a tip I learned from the videos. Something about spitting large amounts of my saliva on a cock made me feel so incredibly powerful.
I loved looking at the way his eyes rolled back into his head; he looked so vulnerable. I paid attention to the way his expressions changed when I switched the positions of my hands. He scrunched his nose when I went harder and he moaned louder when I went softer. I jerked him off at the base of his cock while stuffing the rest of it in my mouth, using my tongue to swirl around his skin and work up as much spit as I possibly could. I moved a hand and put them on his balls. Quite honestly I wasn’t even sure what to do with his balls, but I just wanted to make sure all parts of his genitalia were being accounted for.
I stroked and sucked, he started losing his balance and he leaned up against the wall. The water was left on but we weren’t using it to wash ourselves. It was merely a sexy background at this point, like I was sucking his cock in front of a waterfall. Billy paid $2.25 to use this shower and part of that fee was having no regard for their water bill at all. I didn’t feel at all guilty.
I was able to get my mouth further down his cock with him back up against the tile. It felt so good to have more of him in a part of me. I loved the way he tasted, I loved how his face lit up with pleasure when I licked up and down his shaft, I loved seeing what just my tongue and mouth and hands could do to someone. I wished I could go back in time and give a refund to all six of the people I had performed oral sex on. Those blow jobs weren’t really blow jobs. This was my new standard of blow job and whatever dick would come into my mouth from here on out would be given this level of hospitality. I was really enjoying myself. My pussy was getting wet, and not just because we were in a shower. Actually enjoying a blow job is so satisfying.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he demanded. I obeyed.
I opened my mouth wider and he thrust his cock in and out of me. So much saliva was coming out of my mouth, it was a waterfall of spit in front of our waterfall of truck-stop shower. I could feel him in the back of my throat and I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter as the tip of his cock hit my tonsils. He continued to thrust, and I swallowed as much of him as I possibly could. He went faster, then he slowed down. I could feel him throbbing. I sucked and licked and did whatever the hell I could possibly do with my mouth. He moaned loudly and I tasted an amazing gulp of warm cum seep directly down my throat. I felt his dick go from hard to flaccid in my mouth. I slurped up any last drop of semen that came out of him. No one would have to worry about getting any jizz on the floor of this pristine, pretty shower.
“That was incredible,” he said between heavy breaths.
“I know,” I said.
“Oh, do you?” he laughed.
I stood up and he immediately knew to wash the conditioner out of my hair. It was time. He massaged my head and a strong scent of coconut ran down my body.