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One of the fringe benefits of working the midday shift in 'Buttfuck, Nevada" Reststop 99 was peace of mind. No one ever stops at the shitshack out on the I99 where the gravel road to nowhere goes on forever. And the cunt insists on selling a vast collection of fuck magazines. So he jerks off three times a day. He has become callous. In the one-hundred-degree heat, it has become his custom to strip completely naked. He sits back in his chair, his feet up on the shelf, his legs spread, his massive ball sac swinging as he strokes his donkey schlong. He sweats. Like a pig, and the stench of his unwashed body, his stinky armpits, and his odorous ass crack provide a bubble of sexual lust for the pale-skinned, lanky masturbator. He devours the smut. Especially hairy bitches and Milfs. Yes, he likes older whores with saggy tits and big, folded cunt lips. He imagines the smell. Yes, he really likes sniffing their stinky cunts. He edges for a long time, and when he cannot hold back any longer, he tugs on his cum cannon, plucking away like a wild man. When he cums, he moans loudly, bouncing like a tennis ball. He has big balls, and his loads are massive; his semen ejaculates like sticky egg whites, again and again, often up to eight or nine shots. When his body stops contracting and quivering, he sighs, and likes to press his ass down hard, almost wiping his butt crack on the stained burgundy seat cover. He sits back, sweating profusely, smoking a Newport, inhaling deeply, often trying to clear the massive seed dump from the floor with his left foot. It always leaves a brown stain on the plastic floor and his foot the color of mud.
The soda is ice cold, and his post-coital fag goes well with a gallon of icy root beer. His fuck session ends with a very loud burp, a sickly fart, and he seems oblivious to the discomfort of putting on his jeans (no briefs) and his dried-out t-shirt over his sweaty and cum spluttered body.
Most people consider him one dumb son of a bitch. After months of jerking off in public, he remains oblivious of the cameras that record his monkeying around from every conceivable angle. Somone, most likely the bitch, was watching his every cum shot.
His peers at the Hole thirty miles west, know him as Swanz, on account of his size. Its hard for a hillbilly to hide a cock the size of a meatloaf.
Despite his unquenchable appetite and his apparent ability to keep cumming again and again, Swanz was still a virgin. In his mind the porn whores were his girlfriends, and he maintained pornographic relationships with many of them in his orgasm focussed days of imaginary fucking.
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