During my years of exploring the world, and getting my rocks off in as many different ways, and places, as possible, the first time I enjoyed a sex romp at a highway rest area was back in the mid-nineties. I had been returning to Austin, Texas, for my senior year at the university when the need for a bathroom stop got the better of me. Too much McDonald's drive-thru coffee. I was some fifty miles south of Oklahoma City on I-35 when I spotted a rest area. I pulled in, parked a few spots away from the closest to the building, and headed for the johns. It was nearing eight in the evening, and the sun was hitting the western horizon. I wasn't alone in the rest area, as there were several other vehicles parked, their occupants doing much the same as I was no doubt.
Inside, the urinals were all taken, so I ducked into a stall. I had to relieve my bladder bad, and the cramps were beginning to hurt. I let loose and know I let out an accompanying sigh as my heavy stream of hot yellow piss arched into the bowl quite noisily. As I enjoyed my relief, I took the opportunity to glance to my left and right, and enjoy the bathroom graffiti that were par and parcel the nation wide.
As usual, there were the off-color jokes, phone numbers for hookers, and the "I was here on..." declarations. There was also a note that had to have been written shortly before I'd arrived. It read, "Tonight only, will be at scenic overlook MM45 from ten to mid-nite, sucking and fucking any and all," and it gave that day's date. I was intrigued, to say the least, but didn't think much more about it until I left the restroom and stopped by the large wall map every rest area has. This one had a little yellow "You are here" area pointing to the rest area along I-35. I ran my gaze south, towards the Texas border, until I found the scenic overlook, MM45. I figured it was another twenty or thirty minutes down the road. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter after eight. An hour and forty-five minutes until the anonymous offeree would be in place. I hesitated, working out the next few hours of my trip. I had wanted to hit the Dallas/Fort Worth area before looking for a motel. That was still a good two hours down the road. If I stopped at the scenic overlook, I wouldn't be getting into Dallas until after midnight at the earliest. I put the notion out of my head and hit the road.
As it turned out, not ten minutes later I was bogged down in a traffic jam. A semi had jack-knifed in a work zone and the result was a back-up that took me nearly an hour to move two miles. By the time I was clear of the wreck, it was nearly ten-thirty, and I was beginning to get tired. I wasn't going to make Dallas without needing to stop. At about the same time I made that decision, I passed the notification for the scenic overlook. Three miles.
"What the hell," I mumbled. The evening was warm, the sky clear, and I wasn't in any rush. Fifteen minutes later, the turn-off came up, and I took it. I pulled up into the roughly circular over-look parking area that sat atop a wide, flat hill. To the south and west the land dropped off and one could see lights stretching off toward the darkening horizon. The stars were popping out as well, and that was when I noticed that there was no street lights anywhere, at least turned on. The entire parking area was dark as I pulled up into one of the spots and shut off my engine.
It was quiet, except for the drone of tires on the highway a few hundred feet back. There were several vehicles parked in the area, some with lights still on and engines running. I could hear country music in the distance as well, probably from one of the parked vehicles. I settled back to wait, and relax a few minutes. To see what would happen. I didn't immediately see anyone out and about. There weren't any buildings around the area. Just a few parked vehicles.
After about ten minutes, I began to wonder how I was supposed to find the anonymous offerer and make contact. A couple cars left during that time, and a couple of others pulled in. I thought, "I'll give it another ten minutes, and then I'm hitting the road." About that time I saw a tall figure ahead, moving between a couple of parked semis. I guessed it might have been a trucker, heading off to take a leak in the darkness. I looked out across the circle towards a car that had its motor running and lights on.
"Nice night, isn't it?"
I just about jumped when I heard the gravelly voice behind me. I turned to see a middle-aged rough-looking guy leaning down and looking in at me from my open passenger-side window. He was unshaven, with a weathered look you'd imagine most cowboys to have. He wore a brown denim jacket over a dark t-shirt and jeans.
"I was just thinking that same thing," I replied after a moment. I held his gaze, and he held mine, for a lingering moment. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest.
"Heading into Texas?" he asked a moment later.
"Yeah. Austin," I replied.
"Just resting?" he asked. "Or did you stop up here for another reason?"
I hesitated, realizing that I was at the moment of no turning back. Eventually, I replied without commitment. "What other reason is there, to stop up here?" He grinned in response and gave the lot behind my truck a casual glance.
"Why don't you join me for a walk?" He stood up and started down the sidewalk. His cowboy boots clacked on the concrete in the still night. I hesitated, but curiosity go the better of me and I climbed out of my truck to follow. Ahead of me, the cowboy tossed aside his cigarette into a rock pile and turned down a path away from the car park. I trailed behind him, taking note of the small, faded sign that read; Picnic Area - Please Use the Trash Receptacles. Another thirty or forty feet down and the path opened into a gravel-covered area, complete with several concrete-formed picnic tables and benches, along with a couple of battered trash cans.
The cowboy has stopped near the edge of the gravel and as I approach him I hear the tell-tale splash of piss on the ground. "Keep an eye out, will you?" he growled as he relieved himself. I stayed a few feet back from him and glanced around. We were the only ones anywhere near. He finished up and turned to face me. My eyes couldn't help but drop to his crotch, where his long, rugged cock hung from his open fly. "Go ahead if you need to piss. I'll keep watch," he told me.
"I don't need to go," I replied, still looking at his cock, fully exposed for me just a few feet away.
He took a step closer and asked, "Is there something else you feel the need for?" He took hold of his manhood and lifted the bulbous head up. The dark piss-slit glistened in the darkness. My knees practically snapped as I dropped to the ground before him. With his cock now eye level, I reached up and took it in my hand, replacing his. He stepped right up to me, and I guided his cock into my mouth.
"That's what I thought," he admitted as I began to slurp on is fat knob. I tasted the last of his acrid piss on the tip as I swirled my tongue around and across it. His hands went to my head and his hips started to move. His cock pushed deep into my mouth atop my tongue to nudge my throat opening before slowly sliding back, until only his knob was between my tightened lips. Cowboy began to work my mouth steadily then, face-fucking me for a few minutes while his cock grew to a full, solid seven-inches or more. Once he was satisfied, he pushed my head back and his cock free of my mouth. I was panting for air and wanting him to put it back. I hoped that he could see my hunger in my eyes even in the midnight darkness.
