The Adventures of Zipperbuddy
Chapter one
Denver's Bar
Zip's truck seemed to hit every pothole as he
drove down the unfamiliar lonely road.
His banged-up F150 shuddered with every rut in the road, but each bounce
jiggled his balls
and made his hard dick jump, so he didn't mind too much. He hoped he'd run
into a package
store along the way, 'cause he didn't want to show up at Fuzz's without some
brew in hand.
His summons to Fuzz's remote cabin had been terse: Fuzz wasn't a man to waste
words.
In his email that Friday morning had been a short message: "Git yer ass up
here, buddy. Now."
As soon as he could get away, Zip had obeyed Fuzz's command. Just thinking
about what
was in store for him kept Zip's dick hard throughout the day.
Up ahead he saw a sign with two words on it, "Gas" and
"Bar". A gas station/package
store/bar came into view. Zip grinned and pulled into the lot. A flickering
red neon sign said
the place was called Denver's Bar. Zip got out, stretched, slipped a paw
into his jeans,
scratched his balls and then sniffed his fingers before ambling into the
place. Zip enjoyed
the smell of his crotch sweat on his fingers. Three men were inside, one
behind the bar
smoking a fat short cigar, and two guys sitting at the bar. One of the guys
was long and
lean, with a bushy handlebar mustache; the other one was heavy with a solid
beer gut,
and, as he sat there, a big ass crack showed where his dirty jeans were strained
across
his butt and his t shirt rode up his hairy back. Zip instantly mentally named
them, as he often
did with the anonymous guys he sucked off in parks, alleys, men's rooms,
and truck stops.
The long lean guy became Stache, and the fat one had to be Beer Gut. Beer
Gut had a thick
bushy beard, as thick and bushy as Zip's, but cut short. Stache's cheeks
had been clean
shaven about four days ago.
Zip walked up to the guy behind the bar and growled,
"Case of Bud." The bar man nodded
towards a cooler across the room, and Zip went over to serve himself. As
he stood in front of
the cooler, the guy with the beer gut slid off his stool and sauntered over
to a dirty, scarred
door with a sign reading "Men" on it. He pushed the door open and went in.
Zip hesitated
before opening the cooler, and looked around. Both pairs of eyes at the bar
were on him,
speculating. Instead of reaching in for the case, Zip moved over to a candy
rack, and
appeared to be deciding to get a candy bar. Then he kind of stretched, and,
hoping he
wasn't too obvious, turned and went into the men's room.
The room was dimly lit and smelled of a combination of
stale piss and Pine-Sol. That scent
always acted like an aphrodisiac on Zip, because he'd spent many an hour
on the shitter in men's
rooms, or hanging out in the arcade of adult books stores where the staff
made half-hearted
attempts to clean up the cum and piss and spit from the floors with the strong
concoction of
cleaners that never quite seemed to do the job. As he expected, the guy Zip
had mentally
named Beer Gut was standing at the urinal, but looking toward the door. They
made eye
contact, but neither moved a muscle in his face. The only recognition was
in the eyes. Zip
walked past the guy and stepped into the toilet stall. He sat down on the
toilet without
dropping his jeans.
Silently, Beer Gut took two large steps and was at the
door of the stall, his fat, short dick
hard in his hand. The waist button of his jeans was still fastened, making
his gut swell over
the waist, while more flesh bulged out his fly. He stood there for a moment,
then moved up
to Zip. Zip leaned forward, opened his mouth, and sucked the guy in. At the
same time, he
unbuttoned the top button, and the guy's jeans, released from the tension
of his belly, fell to
his knees. Beer Gut put his big hairy paws on Zip's head, and began the slow
thrust and
withdraw of an experienced face fucker. Zip gave himself up to the bliss
of sucking, letting
the cock slide easily in and out of his mouth, swirling his tongue over the
shaft as it withdrew,
then pulling in his cheeks in heavy sucking as it went back down. The big
head of Beer Gut's
cock banged against the back of Zip's throat, hitting the gag reflex every
time, but Zip
grasped the guy's meaty thighs and kept on sucking. Beer Gut stepped up the
speed,
and Zip responded with a harder grip on the thighs and a deeper suction on
the thrust.
Suddenly Beer Gut groaned, tensed, and forced Zip's head hard into his soft
fleshy gut,
burying Zip's face in sweaty hot flesh, cutting off Zip's breathing. Squirt
after squirt of thick
cum gushed into Zip's mouth and down his throat.
Zip and Beer Gut were both panting and snorting, sweating and grinning. Zip
reached into
his back pocket, retrieved a bandanna, and wiped Beer Gut's spit and cum
covered cock.
Part of the service, Zip always reminded himself. Keeps the guy from itching
too much later
as the spit dried on his cock. Beer Gut accepted the service, grinned, and
stuffed his semi-
hard cock back into his jeans, sucked in his gut to button up, and turned
and walked out of
the stall, and, without pausing, out of the men's room.
Zip considered getting up and going and collecting his
case of Bud, but since he was
a dedicated cocksucker, he waited before making a move. His cocksucker instinct
was
right on target. Within a minute, Stache was coming through the men's room
door. Stache
didn't bother with the pretense at the urinal; it was known in the bar that
a cocksucker was
on the toilet, and Stache stepped right to the stall door. He stood in the
stall motionless,
and Zip immediately understood what was wanted. Stache wasn't even going
to make the
effort to unzip and take his dick out. If the cocksucker wanted it, he'd
have to get it himself.
He stood there, chewing what Zip guessed to be a wad of gum, looking down
arrogantly at
Zip, who was already reaching out to unbutton and unzip this guy.
Zip unbuckled Stache's belt, and unzipped his jeans.
Unlike Beer Gut, Stache was wearing
jockey shorts. There were dull yellow stains at the fly. Zip let Stache's
jeans slide to his knees,
careful to make sure that the cell phone clipped to the guy's belt didn't
fall. Before pulling down
the jockeys, he pulled Stache's crotch up to his face and took a deep whiff
of pissy cloth and
sweaty flesh. Damn, Zip thought. Don't this guy ever shower? He took another
deep whiff,
and then pulled back and tugged at the waist band of the jockeys. He pulled
them down to
Stache's knees, and ran his hand between his legs and fondled his balls.
Stache's groin was
as hard and flat as Beer Gut's had been soft and fleshy. Stache's seven-incher
stood out
hard and tense, and Zip eased it into his mouth. Unlike Beer Gut, Stache
did not move. He
just stared ahead, looking bored, rhythmically working on the cud in his
mouth. Zip did all
the work. Slowly he sucked Stache's long thin cock into his throat, easing
it past the gag
reflex, until his nose was buried in Stache's fragrant crotch hair. He
constricted his throat
to milk Stache's cock while it was deep in him, and then slowly pulled off,
making his cheeks
hollow with deep sucking. Then back down to the hair. He held on to Stache's
hard muscled
thighs and picked up speed, bobbing his head, crashing his nose into Stache's
crotch time
and again. Shit, he thought, I'm gonna get a bloody nose if this fucker don't
come soon. But
Stache showed no signs of coming, so Zip slowed up, and changed pace. Obviously,
for all
his detachment, Stache was a guy who liked a long fuck in a dude's face.
So Zip eased up,
licked at Stache's cock, even let the shaft slip out and did some ball sucking.
As he pulled
one of Stache's big nuts into his mouth, he got the first physical response
of the suck: Stache
twisted and groaned a little. Zip smiled to himself. Here was a guy who liked
some ball action.
He sucked the other ball in, and began to stroke Stache's ass cheeks while
his face was
glued to his crotch, the long hard dripper pressing against his forehead.
He slipped the fingers
of one hand into Stache's crack, lightly touching his asshole. Stache groaned
and twisted again.
Zip let Stache's balls pop out of his mouth, and took
the shaft in his throat again. As he was
sucking, he put the fingers that had just been at Stache's hole to his nose.
He inhaled, and was
rewarded with a sweaty scent, with just a hint of shit: perfect. Again, he
released Stache's cock,
and, applying gentle pressure to Stache's hip, indicated that, if Stache
turned around, Zip was
ready to suck ass. Stache understood the motion, and turned around, and bent
double at the
waist. Zip gazed at the tight hairy hole, fuzzy and brown. He moved his nose
into the hole and
took a whiff, then let his tongue take broad wet strokes up and down the
ass crack. When
Stache's crack was good and wet, Zip stiffened up his tongue and poked it
into the tight hole.
Stache groaned, and relaxed his hole to let Zip get further up. Zip poked
his tongue in and out
of that hole, alternating with sucking Stache's ass lips into his mouth.
He chewed on the hole,
licking up the walls, tasting the ass juices that Stache was letting run.
Sweat, spit and a little shit.
Suddenly Stache stood upright, spun around, and thrust his cock deep into
Zip's willing throat.
Gush after gush filled Zip's mouth, and ran out into his beard. Stache was
slamming into his face,
and it hurt like hell, but he never let go. Finally, Stache was finished,
pulled out, and shoved his
cock into his pants. No waiting for wipe-up service like Beer Gut had. Stache's
next cocksucker
would taste the remains of Zip's work. Stache never even glanced at Zip,
just adjusted his jeans,
ran a hand through his hair, and walked out, leaving Zip sweating, panting,
and rumpled on the
toilet seat.
It took Zip enough time to get it back together that
he realized that the bartender wasn't going
to take advantage of the cocksucker in the john, so he stood up, shook, and
brushed at his shirt
and jeans, licked the last of the cum out of his beard, took a look in the
mirror, and went back
to the bar room. Nothing had changed. Stache and Beer Gut were both at the
bar, Beer Gut's
ass crack in full view, the owner behind the bar with the stogie in his mouth.
Zip got a case of
Bud out of the cooler, paid for it at the register, and headed out to his
truck. As the door swung
shut behind him, he heard the low laughter of the men at the bar.
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