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By *ebas OP Man
1 week ago
Milton Keynes |
Whilst on a road trip for work, I found myself in desperate need of a toilet and pulled into a quiet, almost deserted French motorway rest stop.
The narrow, winding road seemed to lead me deeper into a secluded forest, with little sign of civilisation around me. Following the signs for cars, rather than the truck parking area, I eventually arrived at a completely empty car park.
The facilities were fairly typical for this part of France: sheltered but largely open to the elements, with a single cubicle and a handful of urinals. The unmistakable smell hit me immediately, strangely stirring memories of Lab in Berlin.
With not another soul in sight, I found myself enjoying the unexpected solitude. Rather than rushing, I took my time, lowered my trousers and used the urinal with an unusual sense of freedom. There was something oddly liberating about the moment, tucked away in the French countryside, completely alone and momentarily free from the usual conventions of everyday life.
Out of nowhere, I heard the unmistakable thud of heavy work boots on the wet tiles behind me (more on the wet tiles later).
Feeling his presence behind me, I turned and offered a polite “bonjour.” His reply came back far more assertively than expected, echoing off the tiled walls of the toilets like a small public announcement. He then stepped up to the urinal beside me, which I took as my cue to make a swift and dignified exit.
For a moment, I was relieved to see the first man stay firmly planted at his urinal rather than pursuing me across the bathroom like some kind of plumbing-based chase scene. But the relief didn’t last long. A second man appeared in the doorway, making it abundantly clear that my casual stroll to freedom was about to become much more complicated. Instinctively, I clutched my belongings, bracing myself for what my overactive imagination had already decided would be a robbery.
It quickly became clear they knew each other. They chatted away in French, exchanging the sort of knowing chuckles that suggested I had somehow wandered into the middle of a situation I definitely hadn’t been briefed on. The newcomer, who seemed to be built roughly like a wardrobe, casually positioned himself so that I was shepherded back toward the toilets—firmly encouraged, if not officially forced.
I stood there quietly, attempting to analyse the situation and figure out what was about to unfold. The next development was not something I’d predicted. The man at the urinal turned toward me and calmly reassured me that I wasn’t in any danger. I did my best to take this comforting news seriously, despite the minor distraction that his jeans were still pulled down in a way that suggested he hadn’t quite finished what he came in for.
Despite the somewhat scruffy outfit, he clearly put effort into keeping himself presentable. His body hair was neatly groomed, and he looked far more put together than his clothes initially suggested. He didn’t appear hard, but nor did he seem entirely soft either. There was a certain intensity in the air—as if he’d just spotted a possible opportunity and was quietly deciding whether or not to act on it.
I found my gaze drifting downward, momentarily transfixed as he absentmindedly played with his cock. My brief trance was abruptly broken by the other, nearly forgotten character in this story, who calmly instructed me to undress.
Moments later, I was standing there wearing nothing but shoes and socks, my clothes stacked on the windowsill above me, while both men began walking toward me, their expressions suggesting they were rather pleased with how this unexpected roadside encounter was unfolding.
A firm palm on my shoulder pushed me down onto my knees. I slumped further so that my gooch was resting on the cold, wet tiles. By now, character two had revealed himself, and both men stood over me, cocks in hand, grabbing at my face and hair as if to make it clear that I was on the submissive side of this encounter. They rubbed their cocks around my face and teased my mouth. I knew what I was tasting... piss. Seeing that I was unfazed by their light dribbles of yellow, they took a step back and looked at one another with a sinister smile.
They collectively let out streams of piss, which covered my face and body. I appreciated some warmth, and as I bathed in their piss, I realised why the tiles were wet on a nice, dry Spring day. Licking my lips, I sensed they realised they had met someone with the same insatiable appetite for roadside adventures.
Still dribbling, character one, hard by now, placed his cock into my mouth, and I swallowed down what leaked into my mouth. Character two began to rim my hole in a carnivorous way, letting out growls in between spitting. He knelt behind me, applied some lube, and began to gently but assertively edge himself inside. I opened myself up, and he plunged inside me, holding me at the base of his cock for a few seconds before slowly pulling out and repeating. I could feel his foreskin retract as the head of his cock slid inside my hole, and I was beginning to feel my own climax build.
The next fifteen minutes unfolded in a blur of intensity. The mood swung unpredictably between moments of surprising tenderness and bursts of rough, almost competitive energy as they moved me back and forth between them. The small tiled room filled with heavy breathing, low voices, and the occasional deep growl that made the whole scene feel strangely primal.
On my knees again, both men stood over me with a look of achievement on their faces. Stroking their cocks, they came in sequence, covering my face. I scooped what I could into my mouth whilst cumming myself. For a few seconds, we caught our breath and looked at each other in a way that couldn't be translated through words, but somehow we understood what we were all thinking.
I cleaned up what I could with paper towels and put my clothes back on. A nod of acknowledgment was shared between us before I left and got back in my car. |
