Hillbilly Bill

My name is George.  I am 30 years old. Soon after I bought a small service station, I decided to test how much sex I could have there. Since I had an assistant who waited on our customers, I had lots of free time to indulge my fantasies. I installed a glory hole between my stockroom and the men’s room. I bought a pinball machine, a five-cent slot machine, and offered them for free. I bought some porno movies, a large screen and projector. I was determined to attract “customers.” In a way this story is a sequel to two previous ones involving my filling station.

One slow afternoon a worn-out pickup drove into the station. A very handsome guy in his late 20s jumped out of the truck. He seemed to be about six feet tall, and looked like a hillbilly. After he had gassed up, he came in to pay his bill. He asked, “What does that sign free pinball mean?”

Astonished, I replied, “It’s a game. See that machine in the corner? I’ll show you how it works.”

I proceeded to explain the rudiments and let him try it out. He was fascinated. Evidently he was in no hurry, because he played for about 10 minutes, completely engrossed. I decide to push the issue further and asked, “Do you like to watch porno? I have a projector with that kind of movie in it, ready to show.”

“Sorry, man. I’m religious. I am a Pentacostal. It’s a sin to watch a flick like that. It’s even a sin to talk about it,” he retorted. He stormed out, obviously angry.

But to my surprise, he returned two days later. He parked his truck, and came inside. “I don’t need gas today, but would like to play that game again, OK”

“Be my guest,” I told him cordially. Apparently he had gotten over his anger. I developed a scheme. I went into the store room, turned on the projector, and left the door open. He could hear the moans of a woman being screwed, but he didn’t abandon his pinball machine. I wondered how much mental torture he could take before he left. Yet he stayed. Then he surprised me by walking to the door of the stockroom and peeking in. He was obviously mesmerized by what he saw.

I said, “Why don’t you go in and take a seat. I’ll close the door.” He was obviously hooked, and did just that. I decided to wait a couple of minutes and go in to see what was “up.” He seemed shocked when I went in, and quickly removed his hand from his crotch. “OK if I join you?” I guess he was too polite to say no, so he just nodded agreement.

I sat down and glanced over at him. He seemed nervous and edgy. Probably guilt feelings were flooding his mind. A guy was getting a blowjob from a buxom blonde. I threw caution to the winds, and asked, “Have you ever had a blowjob?”

“Well, I hate to say it, because you are a stranger to me, but I did once before I got religion.” I was still a kid, and was hitchhiking. A guy picked me up and propositioned me. So I let him do it.”

“I’ll bet you liked it,” I remarked.

He didn’t answer my question but said, “I gotta get goin now. Thanks.” With that he jumped up and ran out of the room. I’ll wager he went home and jerked off. He wore no wedding ring, so I assumed he was still single. “He’ll be back again,” I said to myself.

A week went by and he didn’t show. In the meantime I kept busy servicing my regulars, some while watching porno, and others through the men’s room glory hole. I began to think he wouldn’t return. But almost two weeks later he pulled into the service station for gas. After tanking up, he came into my office to settle up. I thanked him and asked, “What is your name?”

It’s Bill,” he replied. Then he asked politely, “Is it OK if I play the pinball machine a while?”

“Go right ahead. There’s no line,” I replied jokingly. He got absorbed with his game, and I repeated my action from his previous visit. I opened the door to the stock room and turned on the projector. He pretended not to notice. After a few minutes, I told him, “Go in if you want.” And he did. And I did too.

I locked the door and sat close to him. After about five minutes, I reached over and groped his crotch, to be surprised by a big hard cock. He pushed my hand away. But I am as persistent as a bulldog. I took my hand off him, then kneeled down on the floor in front of him, with my face near his crotch. I proceeded to unbutton his fly, and this time he accepted my intentions.

I pulled out a gorgeous big 8 inch hillbilly dick, and promptly engulfed it to the bottom. His tenseness disappeared, he relaxed, and he spread his long legs wide to give me better access. I could see by his expression that he was loving it. He probably hoped this would happen, but first had to get rid of his guilt feelings. I was sure he was hooked.

As they usually do, because of my superior technique and my toothless gums, he shot a big load quickly. The instant I came up off his cock he buttoned up and was out the door. He didn’t say good-bye. I had fallen in love with this fascinating and enigmatic guy. It took a long time, but I was happy with my conquest.

Bill began coming to the gas station every couple of days. He had become addicted to pinball and my mouth. One day he surprised me by saying, “I’ve stopped going to that Pentecostal church. It’s too restrictive for me.” Gradually he opened up more and volunteered details about his private life. He lived 20 miles out of town on a small farm with his widowed mother. He explained that he was just able to eke out a modest income, so they lived very frugally.

One day he surprised me, no, he shocked me, by inviting me to visit his farm and meet his mother. Naturally I accepted.

The next afternoon he came to get me in his rattletrap pick-up. It was a bumpy ride to his farm, but I enjoyed it. His mother, Elsie, greeted me cordially. She was a dumpy plumpy woman about 45 years old..

She remarked to me, “I’m so happy my son has made a made a friend. He really doesn’t have any.”

Bill showed me their modest house and farm, and the hogs and chickens he raised to sell. The afternoon flew by fast. I decided to take them to dinner at McDonald’s, since I was sure that they don’t eat out much.

After dinner, Bill dropped off his mom, then he took me back to my filling station. I felt gratified by the afternoon.

I decided to return his favor of visiting his farm with an invitation to visit my house. I told him that I would cook dinner for us.  To brag a bit, I am a gourmet cook. My recipes are enjoyed by all. Bill accepted my invitation and said that he would advise his mom accordingly.

 When he arrived at the filling station the next afternoon, he played pinball for a few minutes. Then I said, “Let’s go. I live only four blocks from here. We can walk there or take your truck.”

“Let’s walk,” he answered.

While I’m comfortably well-off, I live in a modest house. I showed him around and he was impressed with my kitchen—the largest room in my house. I had earlier prepared a favorite of mine, meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a salad. I had a good wine, but Bill only accepted a coke. Dessert was vanilla ice cream.

Bill said that he really enjoyed the meal.

I told him, “Any day you want, there’s dinner here for you. It is a great pleasure to have you here.” And indeed, he began to have dinner with me every couple of days. He seemed to enjoy my company. I got bold and invited him to stay the night with me. He was surprised, but said, “I’ll think about it.” It was obvious that he was opening up like a budding flower.

The following week, he said, “I’ll take you up on your offer to spend the night. I’ll need to tell my mom. It might even make her happy. I talk about you a lot with her. She is very pleased with our friendship. We will have to go to bed early, because I need to get back to the farm to do my chores.”

“No problem,” I replied. I go to bed early and get up early every day. We can go to bed at 8 p. m. and get up at 4.”

“Sounds OK,” he answered.

 On the appointed day, I served him a one-alarm chilli, which had never tried. He liked it. We retired at 8 p. m. in my queen-size bed and comfortable bed. He phoned his mother to wish her pleasant dreams. I told Bill, “Take off all of your clothes. I want to admire your great body.” Needless to say, I gave him a fabulous blow job. Afterwards, I put my arm around him, which he didn’t object to. I felt like I was in my bridal suite.

After a couple of weeks of sleeping over, one night he reached over and put his hand around my dick. Boy, was I ever surprised, and gratified. “Where is this all leading?” I asked myself. A few nights later, he became more courageous, and began to masturbate me! But the story doesn’t stop there.  One night Bill astonished me by saying, “It feels so great when you suck my dick. Maybe I should try it out on you.”

“Go far it,” I answered. He did, and he was pretty good for a beginner. So, he gradually evolved from a religious and timid Pentacostal guy into a cocksucker.  But we were in a catch-22 situation. I didn’t want to live on his farm, and he couldn’t completely abandon his mother and live with me. So we had to endure a half-way solution. I stopped having so much sex in my filling station, because he was a bit jealous of my activity there. We were a happily-married couple. I eventually sold my filling station to my assistant. When Bill’s mother passed away, I rented out my house in the city and went to live with him on his farm. I really enjoyed the life-style, because I grew up on a farm.