I was 20 years old and like most young men oversexed. On a trip between two cities in Texas, I was horny and rubbing the bulge in my jeans. It had gotten dark and I pulled off at a rest stop that was notorious (it had made the local news) for cruising gays. A guy in his forties was standing at the next urinal and trying to strike up a conversation with me. Went back to my car and waited. Sure enough he came out and asked me for a light and then if he could sit with me. His conversation got more suggestive and I admit I knew where he was headed. Never having had a gay encounter, I let him guide me along. He rubbed me through my jeans and asked me to hold his manhood. It wasn’t long before we were in each other’s mouths. I definitely got the better of the exchange. He was skilled and I wasn’t. Truth is he didn’t finish because he was racking up numbers and saved himself for the last BJ of the night. Never saw him again and I confess I never felt any guilt over meaningless, unprotected gay sex.
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