Borken

Chapter Seven

Bork knelt on the grimy ceramic tile of the shower room, eagerly sucking the cock of the trucker. The man transporting the band's equipment had stopped to clean up and get some food, and had decided to take Bork for a hosing off in the showers located across the parking lot from the truck-stop.

"Damn, that's good," the trucker moaned. "Where'd you find this guy?"

"Let's say he's a special order," the driver laughed as he toweled off. "Outfit in Seattle, they do custom work."

"Oh, yeah?" the trucker asked, interested. "I wonder if they could do some work for me."

"Check them out," the driver shrugged. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. "Here, take it. But they aren't cheap. And they don't get much stock in, if you know what I mean. You have to supply the raw materials yourself."

"Really?" the trucker considered that as he continued to fuck Bork's face. "Well, there seem to be a lot of hitchhikers these days. Maybe I'll see something that catches my eye. I get out to Seattle quite a bit. Ahh, fuck!" The trucker drove himself deeper into Bork's mouth as he shot his load.