I had dozed off a few times during the long drive in the morning. The family car, packed to the gills with camping gear and stuff to "ruff" it as my dad seemed to enjoy saying at least ten times an hour, rumbled down the highway for the umpteenth hour inching along on the map towards the days mileage goal. Being back from college for the summer I really didn't mind just relaxing in the back of the station wagon and listening to my iPod, zoning out after the rush and crush of final exams. My sister Holly, a year younger then me was also back from her freshman year in college and was staring out the window as the landscape rolled by.
When my mom and dad had suggested the idea in the winter it had sounded like a fun trip back to a more nostalgic time in our family dynamics. A trip like we had when we were kids (we being Holly and I) a last hurrah for the family as a unit before the inevitable shifts in our lives slowly worked us apart over the next few years. None of us spoke of it as such of course, but I think we all felt the same way.
So the car rumbled on, the scenery trundled past, and we all made small talk to while the time away. The only major difference on this trip compared to past ones was that Holly and I were no longer fighting like cats and dogs abut everything, being (slightly) more mature then in the past. Holly had grown quickly from an awkward teen girl to a vibrant, beautiful woman in her senior year of high school. She got into college on a scholarship for soccer and come back from her first year at school as a different person. She was beautiful, 5'5ish athletic, a nice tan from her spring break trip to Cancun, dusky shoulder length red hair, and wonderfully soft hazel eyes. It was no wonder the reaction she got from neighborhood males when they saw her now. (My dad said far too often that she looked like our mom did when she was younger. Not something an 18 year old girl wants to hear.) To top all this off she had proven herself to be quite the academic, and was putting my 3.0ish average to shame already. Of course I teased her about that, since freshman year is exceedingly easy, or so I told myself trying to forget the 2's I pulled for most of my classes.
We had stopped at a roadside burger joint for food an hour or so before, so as a sign stating 10 miles to the next rest stop flashed by my dad asked if anyone needed to use the head at an upcoming stop. (My dad had spent years in The Corps as he liked to call it, and still called bathrooms "heads" and stairways "ladderwells" regardless of how silly it sounded to the rest of us.) When my dad asked if anyone had to go, generally that meant he had to but didn't want to just come out and say it.
I said that I wouldn't mind stopping just to satisfy his need for not appearing to have a weak bladder.
After 10 miles or so we pulled off the highway and into a generic little 90% kept up rest area with a food court and small store. Dad parked the car, then we all got out, stretching while walking towards the brick building to get the kinks out. Holly picked ungracefully at her shorts which had given her a bit of a wedgie in the middle of the parking lot as she walked for a step or two.
"You are so gross Hol." I chided her, pushing her on the shoulder a bit roughly. She stumbled a bit, one leg held out for a second like a drunken sailor as she finished fixing her shorts, then shot me look of mock anger, sticking her tongue out at me.
"mooooom.. Tom pushed me." She tattled, smiling now.
I pushed her again as we walked, and mom turned around "Tom, you are only allowed to push her if she deserves it honey." She turned back around and disappeared through the swinging doors a few steps ahead of us into the air-conditioned rest area.
I stuck my tongue out at Holly again, but then held the door for her and let her enter first. She giggled a bit as she went through
"Thank you sirah" she enunciated.
After my eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the entrance way I saw, to no surprise, that it was indeed a completely uninteresting generic highway stop. I wondered idly if route 66 still had any interesting stops on it, or if the world of highway travel was now solely populated by Popeye's and Roy Rogers with their heat lamps and limp lettuce.
We split up, Dad making a beeline for the bathroom, Mom to the Starbucks, and I to the store to browse the mags or something to waste time. I missed where Holly had gone. After spending all of two minutes in the store I had seen everything they had to offer and denounced it as either old or boring, and headed back out to the middle of the concourse between the bathrooms and food court.
Mom was all of halfway through the line to get coffee (where do all these people come from anyway) and I did actually need to pee a bit, so I turned on a heel and headed for the men's room after all. Might as well get it out of the way now as opposed to being uncomfortable in the car later I decided, making room for someone leaving the bathroom before entering it myself.
There was a wall of urinals, though most were occupied or broken it seemed. There is an unwritten law in the men's room that consists of three major components:
1. Never talk to someone who is peeing,
2. Never look at someone who is peeing and
3. Always, unless there is an emergency, leave every other urinal open so you don't actually have to be close to someone else who is peeing.
I start looking in the stalls, since the urinals are all full, and wonder if the people who design bathrooms know about these rules, and if they did how much money could they save by installing fake instead of real urinals in every other spot.
Due to one reason or another even the stalls were not habitable until I reached the last one on the end and entered, closing the door behind me. The stalls were more of rooms, with sheetrock walls that reached the ceilings, a small frosted chicken-wire window high up on the wall to let in some light and the metal door that, when closed reached three-quarters of the height to the ceiling in the front. It was actually pretty snug and clean for once I mused as I pulled my dick out, staring up at the window, trying as always to act like I wasn't standing someplace, well, peeing.
My gaze swept around the cubicle, reading some of the rather dull graffiti and promises of blowjobs in the parking lot at such and such a time when I saw what at first glance looked like a fairly well drawn vagina on the left-hand wall. The lips and vulva had been drawn by a talented hand around a hole in the wall at about waist level, with spread, toned legs that faded off to nothing on each side.
The drawing was actually good enough that my cock started to get a little hard as I looked at it. Then to my shock I noticed movement in the hole! Someone was watching me form the other side! It was a damn glory hole.
Great, now what the fuck am I supposed to do
. I was not quite done pissing yet but nearly so. It wasn't like Bubba on the other side could get to me through a wall; I'd just finish then get the fuck out of there. But then a thought occurred to me. This was the last stall in line in the men's room. The glory hole was in the wall on the LEFT side of the stall. The wall that was shared by the women's room.
These thoughts literally took a fraction of a second to chase around in my head; I went form thinking of some gay truck driver watching me piss to the realization that there was a woman watching me through the hole. This was a slightly more interesting situation now.
I shook my cock like I normally do after going to the bathroom, then gave it a few slow strokes instead of putting it back in my pants, watching out of the corner of my eye what the reaction was in the hole.
I heard a low, muffled but appreciative "mmmmm" come form the other side of the wall. Whoever it was had a really good vantage point all of a foot away from my slowly hardening cock.
