“You feel the condom break as the trucker pushes your face against the tiles pounding your bussy. Whats your characters constitution again? Roll for resist disease.”
You enter the truckstop bathroom, the scent of harsh cleansers and urinal cakes clashing in a depressingly familiar miasma with the scent of stale urine and cigarette smoke.
The omnipresent thrum of interstate traffic is cut off by the door closing, the sound of what can only be described as a violent constant shart echoing off the chipped and stained tiles of a room whose only other sound is a buzzing flickering neon light in a metal cage overhead.
Roll for perceptiondice clatter
You hear a cough and a latch undo itself on the far end stall, you walk past the sinks and cracked mirrors and approach the stall onto which a crudely drawn penis has been scratched. What do you do?
“I say, 'hey its ‘Twinker Rentboi’”
The door swings open on unmaintained hinges, your “date” is like so many before. The cowboy boots which were once brown, now stained with grease and dip spit, the formerly blue jeans with dark stains on the front of the thighs from countless greasy fast food fingers over thousands of miles being wiped on them, a brown belt with a confederate flag buckle holding back a heaving gut swathed in red flannel trying but failing to hide the gravy and ketchup stains and a battered once green John Deere trucker cap sits upon the head of a stubble faced ogre of a man who looks like he fell face first into a grease fire and it was put out with a hammer. He looks you up and down with a sour look on his face “You dont look like your picture boy! I aint payin $50 to cornhole some tweaker”
Roll to resist intimidation… pass. What do you say? “Fuck you redneck. If your picture was honest I wouldnt be here at all” The truck driving ogre chuckles “Come on in boy, I promise you, you gon earn this” and the door swings shut, its groaning hinges unheard over the stock pot of chilli being poured into the porcelain in the next stall.
I asked for this. I’m not sure if I appreciate you answering or if I regret asking. Your writing is excellent. If you write anything other than hyper realistic truck stop gay erotica you should really try to publish. Holy crap. You’re good
If you do happen to specialize in hyper realistic gay erotica I may have a commission or two for you, though! :p
I love writing but I lack commitment. Ive penned a few well recieved short stories and I can turn a good phrase but I know if I ever tried to commit to longer form Id see.something shiny and give up pretty fast.
I have my own Scifi universe Im working on but thats very much a work in progress.
I’m exactly the same. If I had the commitment, I think I could actually publish a novel or two. People tell me I’m good. But I just cannot focus long enough to write more than 20 pages.
“You feel the condom break as the trucker pushes your face against the tiles pounding your bussy. Whats your characters constitution again? Roll for resist disease.”
Okay, now you’re just playing FATAL.
Jackpot
I wrote out one that was way more descriptive, but it was just wrong.
Too real…
It was probably bang on though, judging from this one.
Now I gotta know. DM it if you don’t think you should post it?
DM overly dramatic voice
You enter the truckstop bathroom, the scent of harsh cleansers and urinal cakes clashing in a depressingly familiar miasma with the scent of stale urine and cigarette smoke.
The omnipresent thrum of interstate traffic is cut off by the door closing, the sound of what can only be described as a violent constant shart echoing off the chipped and stained tiles of a room whose only other sound is a buzzing flickering neon light in a metal cage overhead.
Roll for perception dice clatter
You hear a cough and a latch undo itself on the far end stall, you walk past the sinks and cracked mirrors and approach the stall onto which a crudely drawn penis has been scratched. What do you do?
“I say, 'hey its ‘Twinker Rentboi’”
The door swings open on unmaintained hinges, your “date” is like so many before. The cowboy boots which were once brown, now stained with grease and dip spit, the formerly blue jeans with dark stains on the front of the thighs from countless greasy fast food fingers over thousands of miles being wiped on them, a brown belt with a confederate flag buckle holding back a heaving gut swathed in red flannel trying but failing to hide the gravy and ketchup stains and a battered once green John Deere trucker cap sits upon the head of a stubble faced ogre of a man who looks like he fell face first into a grease fire and it was put out with a hammer. He looks you up and down with a sour look on his face “You dont look like your picture boy! I aint payin $50 to cornhole some tweaker”
Roll to resist intimidation… pass. What do you say? “Fuck you redneck. If your picture was honest I wouldnt be here at all” The truck driving ogre chuckles “Come on in boy, I promise you, you gon earn this” and the door swings shut, its groaning hinges unheard over the stock pot of chilli being poured into the porcelain in the next stall.
If it doesn’t already exist, there needs to be a lemmyhof.
I asked for this. I’m not sure if I appreciate you answering or if I regret asking. Your writing is excellent. If you write anything other than hyper realistic truck stop gay erotica you should really try to publish. Holy crap. You’re good
If you do happen to specialize in hyper realistic gay erotica I may have a commission or two for you, though! :p
I love writing but I lack commitment. Ive penned a few well recieved short stories and I can turn a good phrase but I know if I ever tried to commit to longer form Id see.something shiny and give up pretty fast.
I have my own Scifi universe Im working on but thats very much a work in progress.
I’m exactly the same. If I had the commitment, I think I could actually publish a novel or two. People tell me I’m good. But I just cannot focus long enough to write more than 20 pages.