The Old Man and My Sweet Cherry

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

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Dad bolted with a piece of jailbait a few years back. He wasn’t shit anyway, but it beat being a man alone flanked by two insatiable whores.

Grandma who birthed my mom at sixteen worked double shifts as a waitress for the diner off the bypass. After the dinner rush, she went out back to compete with my mom, the legendary lot lizard who also had me at sixteen, in helping take some of the edge off the truckers rolling through the area. Roger was head over heels in lust with my mom. When she was clean and sober, she was halfway decent and a cut above the rest of the whores on the stroll. When she was on that stuff, Roger often cursed he had to “tenderize the meat” just to blast a decent load off inside of her. Roger was fond of my grandmother, too. Being just eighteen years older than her, he was still coming out on top in scoring younger pussy for his age. As Roger was learning he couldn’t escape Father Time, and never having any real prospects to start a family of his own, he figured my grandma was ripe for settling down. Grandma was fond of the money he brought in, and a year later the two had a small ceremony on the sweet piece of land he bought out in the county.

It was no great secret that Roger and my mom still fooled around after the ceremony. His lust for cunt never waned, and Mom had a bad habit to feed with his money. Grandma really didn’t care. I think she sort of expected it when she moved us into their new brick-faced manufactured home on Roger’s plot. Though, when my grandma caught them, usually coming in from her garden, she would guilt them into giving her some money to stuff in her bra until it was time for another offering to be made.

I stayed out of their weird arrangement, except for when Roger cornered me and ask if my mom used the money he’d given her to buy me whatever thing she promised him she’d buy me. Whenever I said no—which was always—he’d peel a few bills from his wad and brandish a sheepish grin with his offering.

Of course, I always took it and went about my day, often showing him later that it really went for something I needed. Two fucking whores in the house, and never a dime to buy what’s needed between them! My cross to bear was the confliction I felt taking money from him like that. In some weird way, Roger was my step granddad, so we were like family, I suppose. In another way, I felt slightly guilty because while he freely gave me the money, I felt a little jealous that he didn’t make me earn it like the two whores.

There was nothing excitingly eye-catching about Roger. He was a 66-year-old trucker that wasn’t tall or bearish. He was an inch shorter than me at five-six. He was bald underneath his cap, and always wreaked of a week of unwashed funk slathered in Aqua Velva with charred steak breath. Even so, he had grown on me. From a distance, I found him rather cute—in DILF sort of way, with his big brown saucers flanked by his bushy, salt and pepper moustache and brows, looking like an older Luigi from Super Mario Brothers. He was often in some dingy-looking white plaid shirt that hugged his rather neat frame and jeans that hugged his thin ass and yet managed to contain his freakishly thick calves.

I never really paid any attention to his denim-covered pocket rocket until one day it was just there, and I couldn’t stop sneaking a peek when I felt I could get away with it. And when I accidentally walked in on my grandma and her girlfriend on their knees together working on his schlong, I wondered how I could’ve missed it for so long.

By then, I had started experimenting with other teenage boys around the way. You know, cross over the meadow creek behind the house to quietly rub one out in the woods, only to find half the boys around there with the same idea. It was a little unnerving, at first. Each boy trying to claim his private patch without gazing upon the other. Then, without trying, notices the other guy as they screech to release the lecherous demon out of their stiffened cocks. Sure enough, where there are boys at play, old county pervs sniff around avid to get them off. It was awesome having a monstrous-looking cocksucker work on you while the other guys were stuck using their rosy palm and five friends. But then it became apparent that there were more cocksuckers in the mist than we knew, and when they suddenly dwindled, we looked for other boys to fill the void. There were some boys that had to be trained. Others that were no strangers to having a cock plugged in their mouth. And, as for me, it was a sheer toss-up between nature and nurture, seeing that I got a little carried away performing my initial cock-sucking duties by guzzling every load and thoroughly polishing off each cock like it was my expertise.

I never suspected that my life out in the woods might collide with my life inside until one day Roger asked me to trim his hair.

Although Roger was bald on top, he had plenty of coppery hair on the back and on the sides of his head. When it grew out it really curled and fitted his face like a charm. We all were fans of it. He was not, saying that it was too punk for him. When I did the math one day, he would’ve been the age of a punk when he sported it. He usually left the task to my grandmother or mother to cut it, but he was well aware that I could fill their shoes when neither were around.

He plunked down in the kitchen chair. I draped the towel over him and pinned it behind his collar, working the scissors and the comb to get it nice and even before trimming his neck with the beard clippers. He didn’t say much, which wasn’t a surprise. Roger was a talker, yes, but only if he could look you square in the eyes to read your interest in the conversation. I was kind of glad he was on the quiet side today while I shaped up his head because my cock was surging thinking about Roger and all the sweet pussy that big cock of his fucked over the years.

I’d just undid the safety pin from his nape, knocked the loose hair from the towel onto the floor, and grabbed the broom when he pulled another chair in front of him. I started to groan, frustrated that I would have to sweep around another object.

He snatched the broom out of my hand from his seated position. “Don’t worry about that for now. I’ll get it later. Sit,” he ordered in a melancholic tone. “We need to talk.”

I sat with no fear. He wasn’t my father or my grandfather for real. He was just a man my grandmother married whose house we lived in, and I wasn’t a troublemaker or anything ripe for any reprimand.

“Boy, I don’t think I have to tell you how many times I felt your happy knob bump against the back of the chair while you were cutting my hair, now do I?”

I flushed with embarrassment. I thought I did an excellent job of turning my hips away when my cock stirred.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s only natural at your age.”

I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but I felt there was a big but coming.

“What maybe up for grabs is what you’re doing out back in ‘em woods. I don’t know how to sugarcoat this, but word around town is that you’re the best cocksucker around these parts.”

I froze. I couldn’t find the muscles to brush it off or feign getting upset.

“Don’t surprise me none. Your womenfolk are whores. Whoredom is all you know. I don’t care who you are or what you do with whom since there’s a lot I’ve seen in my nearly fifty years out there on the road. I do care enough about you to want to know if there was anyone out there that turned you out. If so, I need to know so we can return the favor.”

I shook my head.

I knew what he meant from some of the stories a few guys relayed from juvie. I’ve also earwitness a handful of unwitting boys being forced onto the crotch of their aggressors, only for their humiliation to turn into brazen wanton.

“You know you could tell me, if they did.”

“I know.” I swallowed. “It’s just that I’ve been wrestling with this whole thing myself, whether I’m my mother’s son or my grandmother’s grandson, or if I’d just picked it up from them over time.”

“Do you like it?”

“Sure. I love it!” I beamed licking my lips. “Sometimes I got to hold back from going full gusto on everybody because I don’t want to be the cum junkie. I mean, I don’t mind gobbling a few loads for sport. I just don’t want to lose my rank with the boys, so I suck as much cock as they suck. And they suck a lot, just to earn plenty of credits so they don’t have to reciprocate every time.”

Once I was finished talking, I regretted my words. I was so caught up in talking about sucking cock that I forgot that I was talking to a man that I knew liked his cock sucked. And though, I had a slight crush on Roger, he was fifty years my senior after all, and making good use of the women in my family and beyond.

He smirked. “Mind if I tell you something?”

I nodded.

“If this in anyway get back to your grandmother or mother, I’ll flat out deny it, but here’s the truth: I’ve been where you been…just without the reciprocating credits.”

I chuckled. Roger may have been short, but it was hard for me to picture the lady-killer, or even a younger version of his curly-haired self, gobbling cock.

“No, really. Back when I was a lad, I pretty much lived on my knees at my local truck stop. Though, I never been big, I was always hairy, which gave me the look of being older than what I was. For me, it was less about being a cum junkie and more about making a stud neigh like a horse. Looking back on it, I was too young to be doing what I did back then, but I enjoyed every minute of it. There were never enough truckers to come through for me to be left satisfied. I guess that’s why your grandma and me pair so well. I’m familiar with the itch although it has been close to twenty-five years since I toyed with my last cock.”  

I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. While I knew the guys in the woods weren’t above doing what I did, I wasn’t sure if it was something they really wanted to do or something they did just to get their needs met.

“After hearing that you’re the Throat King around here,” Roger continued. “Can I ask if your cherry is still intact?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

I was curious, of course. What would it feel like to have a cock stuffed back there? Except, the guys in the woods only offered two kinds of fucks: The gruesome hurt and the come-one come-all pile on. Once, I was tempted to jump in on the latter. To see what ass-pussy felt like when one of the older boys snagged an old perv to practice on. But after they roughed up the poor fella and laughed at him afterwards for being such a big limp-wrist, I changed my mind. That, on top of the guys reviewing some of the worst pumps out of the group and relentlessly poking fun at them. I wasn’t ready for that kind of ridicule much less serve up my unspoiled derriere for their testing.

“Alright! I believe you. You can’t be sitting here totally passionately talking about sucking cock and be totally oblivious to the joys of a good pounding unless you hadn’t had one. Can I let you in on another little secret?”

“Sure.”

“Those same guys murmuring around town about your BJ skills are the same guys that are looking to snatch your cherry away from you soon, like your friend Parker. Now, there ain’t shit I can do about it once that happens, since I can’t always keep my eyes on you, but I can let you have the last laugh when it happens.”

“How?”

“Give it to me and let them score the rest.”

I chuckled. I may’ve been young, but I wasn’t stupid. “Just say you want some new ass, Roger. We both know you’re no stranger to getting it when the opportunity presents itself.”

“True, but I like you, boy. More than a grandpa should like his grandson. I just don’t want your first time to be a repeat of my first time. Mine wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but I came around after my stretched hole was left with a new itch that anyone within radio range of us could easily scratch, if the call went out.”

Roger went onto tell me a story about being in the throes of sucking cock at his local truck stop one night when one of his favored regulars pulled up. Roger was really infatuated with the guy. The two were much closer in age than the rest of the old fogies around there, and, for a trucker, the guy made a real effort to take care of himself. Roger even toyed with the idea of gifting the stud his cherry. Even though everything in Roger wanted to run over and take care of the guy then and there, he had this youthful neurosis about getting the men off in the order in which they came. His then-crush proved to be impatient after the third blowjob and beyond pissed after Roger got Guy Number Seven off. Roger innocently thought the guy had called him over to complained. He went over there to assure him that he was working hard to get to him.

Before he knew it, his head was being jammed into the wheelhouse of a big rig with his jeans and underwear snatched down trying to evade the painful pressures of a hard cock darting for his hole without banging his nogging and knocking himself out. “Once he wedged the motherfucker in there, I tried pushing him out. I didn’t know then that I was just inviting him further in. I guess it was somewhat my fault, really. You can’t give blowjobs out like a ticket dispenser and expect somebody to believe you have an unsullied hole like I did.”

The man didn’t let him go until he was done, and even then, he tossed Roger on his ass on the gravel and defiled him again despite his protest.

“The worst part wasn’t that the bastard raped me twice. It was that nobody saw the need to run over and stop him despite my frantic pleas! So, there I was left on the ground with my legs bound by my jeans and a double barrel load of cum dripping out my bloody ass tired and sore and struggling to get up. When I finally got to my feet, I somehow made my way back over to where the guys I had lined up were still waiting, like I’d just excused myself to go to the bathroom. As I staggered passed them to get home in my stupor, I tripped and fell right in front of a half-naked man. Rather than help me get on my way after the ordeal, he just brushed my teeth with his cock leaving his paste in my gums.”

There were more guys who violated him in his damaged state. He was too weak to fight back, even against those that chose to test out his newly stretched out hole. He blacked out for good with one more guy on top of him. Later, he woke up the next morning on the side of a hill behind the truck stop with his jeans back around his ankles and his ripped shirt pulled over his head.

“They didn’t give a shit about those they fucked over back then. Chicks might’ve had it bad, but if they wanted to, they could run it up the chain of command to scratch some justice. But since it was clear I was a fag, well, that was just the cost of faggotry.”

“Damn,” I said not trying to lick my lips to the hard-ons both of us were sporting across from each other thinking about all those horny mannish men.

“It could’ve been far worse. Back then, even though they decriminalized it, it was nothing to get locked up for it just the same. I was just spared the bullet because though the truckers were my main block of men, I was no stranger to other hearty cocks throughout the county.”

Roger shied away from the truck stop a few weeks after that. Eventually, he returned, running the risk he could get jumped on again, in which he did more than once. When he got old enough, though, he got on the trucks, too. He figured if he couldn’t beat them, he might as well join them.

“Summer’s break is coming up, next week, right? If your friends were going to do something to you, it’ll be that last day after school. So how about the day before the last day of school you hop in my truck and me and you run a load.”

“Let me guess. In the back of your sleeper?”

“Only if you want to, but I had my sights set on a nice motel over in the tristate area. It ain’t the world’s fanciest place, but it’s nice and clean and worth remembering, like if you were a prom girl about to lose your virginity.”

As I said, I had a slight crush on Roger anyway. The more I thought about giving up my cherry, the more I ached for Roger to be that man to get it. I’d caught glimpses of him fucking and I heard the pleasurable cries of the women he fucked over the years, so I felt confident that with him that my first fuck would be good. Add to that, if he was telling the truth, being his first man-fuck in decades.

The only thing I wasn’t quite sold on though was that the guys in the woods were pricking to pile on me like he said. I was the “Throat King” as he joked, and I thought it would be “who would be my first” since so many guys had paired off to be the other’s steady whenever we didn’t hook up like we did. I was still convinced I had some suitors in waiting. It was just a matter of choosing a steady of my own over the rest.

When I went back there to deduct some more knob-gob credits, I sensed a change in the air. It was there before, built days prior, but I could put my finger on it now. The guys were less aggressive with me, almost like they were biding their time waiting. This was strange because I lacked a gag reflex, and the joys of my mouth was that I could seriously be throat fucked with no problem. I got a better heads up when I switched positions with my friend Van against a tree and I got a knowing wink and a nod from my friends jacking off from their view. It’s been told that Van and I bear a striking resemblance from a distance. And when my friends slightly cocked their heads elsewhere, I knew that their signal wasn’t meant for me, but for him. Then the day before the last day of school arrived and a pinch of boys emerged from the woods when they saw me pile my things into Roger’s cranked up rig.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going, pal? We got another day of school tomorrow.” My friend Marky snarled like I owed him an explanation.

“Our last day of school.” Parker whined, pretty sure knowing that his ass was going to be up for grabs one more time after school tomorrow in lieu of my absence.

“Sorry bud. Roger got a load due to drop in a couple of days with a few trips trailing out after that. If I don’t head out with him now, I might be stuck with you knuckleheads for the rest of the summer.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Van chimed in, caressing his ready crotch.

“Not at all,” I smirked. “But if I let you guys hem me up in your plan after school tomorrow then it’ll just be the same old spoiled meats all summer long.”

“Man,” they hissed.

“Don’t be so sad. Think of this trip as a favor for you!”

“How the fuck so?”

“While my hot sweet ass would love to rate who’s the best fucker between you guys, I think I’ll do better if I had a better barometer to judge you by. That way I can help you improve rather than just help you get your rocks off!”

The door slammed across from me. I looked over to find Roger already in the driver seat, winking. We pulled off to the disappointed expressions of a few young boys who I later learned had planned to take my virginity with one of their cherry jam-covered cocks plowed into my mouth.

Roger didn’t offer any words for the twenty-minute ride down to the diner. He parked in the back and went inside to offer a goodbye to my grandmother. I didn’t do the same, sitting on my pulsating rings perfervid to get fucked. I said my goodbye to her this morning and told her to say the same to my mom if she ever turned up. Mom bolted out of town with a known coked-up trucker a few days back, and she hadn’t fucked her way back home just yet.

Roger made his way back to the truck. It was obvious my grandma didn’t gift him a goodbye present in the bathroom, like they both talked about in the past, so I snaked back to the sleeper and sat down. When he got back in the truck, he cussed that I wasn’t sitting there in the adjoining bucket seat. “Where the fuck did he go?”

Before I could answer, he swung his head all the way around to find me sitting their shirtless. I didn’t have to open my mouth for him to know what I wanted, what he needed, as he immediately unzipped his jeans.

Right after he relayed his rape story, I showed him how I earned my nickname by popping his hot nut in less than three minutes and swallowing every bit of his beer and cigarette-laced seed. He could last forever I learned in the days after his haircut, but I learned a quickie instantly got him hard again.

His thick uncut cock was plugged back down my throat in the back of the sleeper, and I was gobbling up another one of his steamy loads in less than five minutes. It was a three-and-a-half-hour drive from where we were down to where we were going in the tristate region. Long enough to tie him over, and long enough to guarantee that I thoroughly enjoyed my first fuck.

The first couple of hours whizzed by. The last hour before we reached our destination moved at a snail’s pace.

I wasn’t scared or nervous or anything, feeling slightly cheated out of my true cherry by the constant insertion of the enema I used earlier to clean out. Having to think about something bigger going up my bum put some serious pressure on it, however. When I was presented with sucking my first cock, it wasn’t like I woke up that morning thinking I was going to be on my knees sucking a cock. Heck, I barely had any warning before I slathered my taste buds across my first salty phallus.

This, this had been plaguing me for days.

The countless cocks I sucked back in the woods poured into my head along with the many more cocks I pondered to take once I got rid of my cherry. Before I knew it, we’d finally arrived.

I was stunned by the place. It wasn’t the fanciest place in the world, but it was far better than I ever expected out of a tristate motel, and it already looked like the fanciest place I’d ever been to. Here I was picturing this rundown rinky-dink place off the highway, and this place looked more like a mountain lodge with plenty of space for trucks to park.

Roger darted in and out the building with the keys in hand, handing me a set after he climbed back inside the truck.

We grabbed our bags as Roger briefly explained the true difference between hotels and motels. I quickly understood looking at the doors of the rooms facing the parking lot as we hiked the stairs up to the third floor. When we reached the landing and walked the walkway, he cupped my ass on our way to the room. I felt a little dirty about it, but in a good way.

“Shit, Roger,” I remarked, tossing my packed bag on the bed. “This here is a real nice room!”

If he had described the space having wood paneling, I would’ve drawn a worse conclusion for the motel in my head. It didn’t look like a basement ripped out of the 70s. Instead, it kind of gave it this cool designer look with its honeycomb shapes dancing up the wall and hanging over the bed enclosed in smoke gray. The lights and lighting were the kind I’d only seen in movies, letting me know that my step grandpa didn’t fetch economy for my prized cherry.

Though I washed up thoroughly before we left, I couldn’t pass up the chance to get cleaned up again in that oversized bathroom off to the side. Sure, I was going to be able to get to it after the deed was done, but a little extra freshening up didn’t hurt.

I hopped into the shower, and I enjoyed every minute of the scorching hot water with their shampoo and conditioner and fragrant-smelling body gel all over my body. When I toweled off, I stepped back into the room butt naked waiting for the old man to pounce on me. Instead, his palm landed hard on my bony ass as he disappeared into the bathroom to partake in the same joys I’d just experienced.

When he stepped out butt naked with his tense rounded shoulders, I stood there in the middle of the floor like an oaf, going back and forth between standing and sitting and laying deep in the bed, trying to figure out the best way for me to present myself to him when he came out.

He caught me like this, on my feet, moving closer in on my shivering body, smelling manly and soap-clean, palming my scrawny waist as he worked his way behind me. I was already hard, but this just made me even harder.

I never thought about Roger’s hands before. Now that they were there with his big hairy forearms pinning me, they were all I could think about, never noticing how ginormous those mitts were or how rough they were and still felt so damn tender tugging on my erect nipples. Though they weren’t enough for me not to notice the turgid cock pressed against me, hungry to satisfy its limitless appetite.

I blushed. I reached for his shaggy cock. My palms turned sweaty as I began to stroke the hefty shaft. So thick and so plump that I thought myself a fool for not running out the door rather than agreeing to invite this thing inside of me.

Roger sucked his teeth. “Why don’t you do what you did to it back in the berth? Only this time, take your sweet time to get it nice and wet.”

The task was simple enough, felt familiar enough. My mouth made friends with cocks easily, and his and mine had become exceptionally close over the past few days.

He fell into the bed, propped by his arms. I dropped to my knees to worship the Tower of Roger. I licked and teased this god, tickling its bloated fancy with my talented tongue and inhaled it deep into my mouth.

I covered it nicely with spit and traces of his precum when he invited me into the bed. I worked him over well in this newly comfortable position. He was well pleased. It was only natural though that he started to reach for my ass, massaging my hole with his lubed fingers enticing me to sling my rear closer to him.

I never expected that with his busy hand that he would move his busy mouth onto my cock, working each other in a sixty-nine position. Despite the many times I sucked cock or had my cock sucked, the root-laced ground underneath the canopy behind the house never allowed for such mutual activities.

Long before Roger christened me the Throat King, there was no way you couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t the best cocksucker around. While most guys back in the woods needed to use everything in their arsenal to get a guy off, I could get a man off simply with just my mouth and leave him crying like a baby as he spurted a creamy river down my throat. The fact that I could do so in a handful of moments was just a testament to my skills. But the way Roger was sucking me off, I felt like an amateur—out of my depth. It had nothing to do with this new posture or getting off in chorus. Where my mouth was the lame pistons I joked about, his mouth was like a vacuum with indestructible suction, and I was fighting the urge to not to spend it all in his mouth.  

We’d slowly rolled around on the bed devouring each other. I was trying hard not to come. He was trying not to get stuck in one pose, either eating my cock or eating my ass. Soon, I was on my back in the middle of the bed with him lying beside me sucking on my nipples. He had started to finger me while he sucked and ate me, but I was left discomfited that he’d stretched my hole with so many fingers knuckles-deep inside me. I guess I’m really a whore, I thought as I constantly bucked my hips to his firm digits grazing my prostate.

“You’re ready to part with this Dear Old Friend?”

I nodded and whimpered at his thudding insistence, letting the freshly tapped whore blood of the generations before wildly course through my veins, sucking his fingers deeper into me as my signed consent.

He worked his way between my legs.

One foot was thrown over his shoulder while the other instinctively hooked behind his thigh. I felt weird that this felt so natural. Even more so when his lubed cock teased my defenseless hole.

“You’re ready?”

I lined his cock up to my hole.

As Roger inserted, I was greeted by this rotten pain that nearly twisted my head off in this tantrum that spread throughout me. “Breathe,” he instructed. I breathed. “Push out,” he added. I followed his command.

The pain lessened.

He brought my leg behind his over his shoulder and slowly pushed in, making me gasp at this raider.

I whimpered at every stroke following, not sure what to make of this intrusive feeling.

It hurt and it felt good all at once. And I felt odd that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it should and I felt odd that it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. I liked it, but I didn’t know what to make of it. As I tried to make sense of this new feeling, both my legs fell to his side open to receive him even more.

“God, Roger! Take this ass!” I suddenly murmured.

I began to feel both warmed and weakened with tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t figure out why, now that it began to feel so good. Now that I was going back and forth between opening my legs up for him like a 7-11 and wrapping my ankles around his back like a lock, either way signally I wanted more of this.

He was steadily rocking me, though it was quite apparent he was holding back, treasuring more than me that this was my intro into fucking.

His thrusts became more calculated. Not too hard, not too soft. Just a man who was both powerfully masculine and virile with a reciprocal in me committed to accept these thrusts.

“Fuck!” I screeched burying my nails deep into his shoulders on my way.

This wave of delirium paralyzing my body. Then my body, my soul, shattering into this binding orgasm. His fingers working my prostate was one thing. His cock steadily working my prostate was the one thing that did the trick!

“Oh shit, Roger,” my body convulsed violently. “No! No! No! Please! I feel…I feel like I’m gonna pee all over myself, Roger!”

“Pee then,” he threatened casually, his ownership of my ass never waning. Thankfully, it never came to that, but my hole spasmed despondently to catch his churning cock.

While we both understood that we were there for him to take my virginity, I did sort of wish I was a little more experienced. That way, I didn’t squirm so much underneath him as he finally got tired of me and rolled me onto my stomach for me to stop, locking my legs with his.

If I was looking for the acrobats I watched in porn, I would’ve been sorely disappointed in the two positions we fucked in, as he finished me this way, riding me long and slow as I whimpered and wondered if the honeycombs floating above my head tasted as sweet as this.

“Oh, I’m coming!” Roger growled in my ear, lying on top of my back.

Cum pumped my insides in this hot smoldering lava flow that seemed never-ending as he never ended kicking out another surge draining from his pipe.

He pumped his final drops and stroked my back, letting me take in that my precious cherry was gone forever and that he was the man that took it.

When he pulled out ever so carefully, I was blue that I already missed him so much—even with him just a few inches away. Settling that I was discovering the sexual charm everyone else saw in this man.

He returned with a warm washcloth to wipe away the runoff. I trembled, coming back into mindfulness, realizing that I’d been fucked for the very first time, and I could never go back.

I remember him getting back off the bed. I turned onto my side to watch him disappear into the bathroom. I was tired and weak and sleepy and desperate to stay awake for his return before I quickly fell into slumber.

I do remember waking up over into the night clinging onto Roger.

The next morning however I awoke on my side underneath his arm and his morning wood geared up. I tried to be sweet by sticking it in for him, but he stirred away and took my cue. From there, we left behind the sweet lovemaking and grew into the Pound Town fucks that he was noted for.

“Now that I plucked that cherry of yours, you’re seasoned open to take on any cock you see fit. Some will be nice and sweet, and others will be rough and ruthless. One thing’s for sure: They’ll be plenty of them for you to try out on this road called Life. All I ask is that you don’t forget about me in the final tally when the time comes, Throat King.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that unlike my grandma and mom, I was satisfied with being just his…even for just a little while.

My “little while” had a shelf life of just shy of a month. It would’ve been longer if it wasn’t for a brief pitstop back home. After being out on the road for so long, I forgot about the life we left behind or that my birthday was soon coming up. Roger wanted to bring me back and surprise me with the used car he bought me, but he accidentally let the cat out of the bag a couple of hours shy of home. Since he’d fucked me every which way so thoroughly on the road, I forgot that when we got back that I had to compete with two whores for the same cock I had all to myself.

He fucked them silly once we got back. He didn’t fuck me at all.

After totally being kicked to the curb while he had his fun with Mom and Grandma, Roger crushingly asked if I wanted to get back in the rig with him for the rest of the summer. To our surprise, I said yes, leaving my new ride behind. We went back to fucking like we never stopped. But with the truth that I would always have to share Roger looming over my head, I soon availed myself to other men I crossed paths with. From truckers at truck stops to married men at motels to tapping shoes and reaching under stalls with businessmen in business suits in the fancy office tower bathrooms. Just whoever, whenever I could get a moment away from Roger.

By the time 4th of July rolled around my sweet ass already served in the double digits in more ways than one.

We made it back in at the start of Labor Day weekend, just days before my junior year. After a quick dip out to the outlet mall to buy some new school clothes—thanks to the generosity of some very gratefully relieved men—I snaked my way back into the woods to the bastards I left behind.

The guys were still a little salty that I foiled their plans. They had just about every detail covered from adding a new twist to an old favorite to drafting up a scoreboard to see who would be the actual first to strip me of my cherry. But as soon as I pulled down my pants and let them leave a hot load in my bare cherry jam ass, all was forgiven. I embraced my fear becoming the cum junkie. I didn’t mind. With some of the tricks I learned on the road, I pretty much had all of them neighing like horses in a handful of minutes before I left them spent and panting while I made my way down to the diner for a slice of congratulatory pie. They still fucked like boys rather than the men I’d grown accustomed to, to the men I had the job of molding them into, just like Roger and those other men had done for me.

Roger and I still fuck, but with no abashment inside the house or out on the road. Mom wasn’t too thrilled with our new arrangements. She wasn’t coming from the place of a concerned parent. She just knew her guaranteed money well was siphoned off. Like with my mom, I think Grandma sort of suspected it. First, when I ran off with Roger, since I never did that before, and then again and again abandoning my new car and hanging out with my friends for the company of a randy old man. Though, unlike with Mom, whenever he slides me a few dollars with a shit-eating grin, she doesn’t have her hand out. She knows that just like her I damn well earn my keep as his whore, too!