Chapter 4: Highway Humiliation
The smell of the couch leather, of his own humiliation, still clung to David’s skin the next afternoon. He showered twice, scrubbing until his flesh was pink, but it felt ingrained. When Mike’s truck pulled up, a heavy-duty Ford with mud splattered on the rocker panels, the scent of it seemed to reach through the window.
Kathryn didn’t ask. She just picked up her purse. “Come on, David.”
The truck cab was high off the ground. David climbed into the back, his knees bumping against a toolbox bolted to the floor. The vinyl seat was cold, cracked in places. Mike looked at him in the rearview, those hazel eyes flat and assessing, then pulled onto the coastal highway without a word.
Kathryn reached over before they’d gone a mile. Her fingers worked his belt buckle, then his zipper. Mike grunted, shifting his hips to help. David watched, his mouth going dry, as she freed Mike’s cock. It was thick, semi-hard already, curving against his thigh.
“Eager,” Mike said, not taking his eyes off the road.
Kathryn just smiled, that warm, knowing smile, and then bent her head. She took him into her mouth in one slow, deep glide. David heard the wet suction, saw the muscles in her throat work. Her nose was buried in the coarse grey hair at the base. Mike’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
David’s own jeans grew painfully tight. He didn’t touch himself. He wasn’t sure he was allowed to breathe. The truck hummed along at a steady hundred kilometers an hour, the yellow lines blurring past. Mike drove with one hand, the other coming to rest on the back of Kathryn’s head, not forcing, just anchoring.
“That’s it,” Mike muttered, his voice a low rumble under the engine noise. “Take it all.”
She gagged softly, a wet, choked sound, and then deepened her rhythm. Spit gleamed on the shaft. David could see every movement, the bob of her head, the flex of Mike’s stomach. It was obscenely casual. A commercial for truck parts played on the radio.
After twenty minutes, Mike signaled and turned off the highway. The pavement gave way to gravel, then a rutted logging road shrouded by tall, dense firs. The truck jostled over potholes, Kathryn’s head bouncing in his lap. Mike drove until the road dead-ended in a small clearing littered with discarded beer cans and moss-covered stumps.
He killed the engine.
The silence was abrupt, broken only by Kathryn’s muffled sucking and the ticking of the cooling truck. Mike opened his door, the cold Atlantic air rushing in. He pulled Kathryn out by her arm. She stumbled, laughing, her lipstick smeared.
“Over the hood,” Mike said.
She went, bending forward, her palms flat on the cool, dusty metal. Mike pushed her skirt up around her waist. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The pale skin of her ass was exposed to the grey afternoon light, the dark cleft still glistening from last night. Mike unzipped his fly, freed his cock, now fully hard and ruddy. He spat into his hand, slicked himself, and positioned the head.
He pushed into her with one solid, unceremonious thrust. Kathryn cried out, a sharp, gratified sound that echoed in the clearing. He set a brutal pace immediately, each drive of his hips slamming her against the truck, his balls slapping hard against her clit with a wet, fleshy sound.
“David,” Mike barked, not missing a stroke. “Out. Now.”
David fumbled with the door handle, his legs weak. He stood beside the truck, the gravel sharp under his sneakers. The scene was raw, animalistic. Mike’s powerful back muscles coiled and released. Kathryn’s face was turned toward David, her eyes half-lidded, her mouth open in a silent gasp with every impact.
“Get over here,” Mike grunted. “Lick her. Lick her asshole while I fuck her.”
David’s stomach clenched. He moved on numb legs, rounding the bumper until he was behind Mike, facing Kathryn’s splayed body. The smell of sex was pungent, mixed with pine and damp earth. He could see where Mike pistoned in and out of her, her cunt stretched wide, dripping.
He dropped to his knees in the gravel. The stones dug into his skin. He leaned forward, his nose almost touching the sweaty small of her back. He extended his tongue.
The taste was complex—salt, skin, the faint, musky trace of his own submission from the night before. He circled the tight pucker of her asshole, feeling it clench and flutter with each of Mike’s thrusts. Kathryn moaned, pushing back against his tongue.
“Yeah, just like that,” Mike panted, his rhythm becoming erratic, punishing. “You like that, Kath? Your husband eating your ass while I fill your pussy?”
“God, yes,” she hissed.
Mike’s thrusts grew shorter, harder. A guttural roar tore from his chest, and he drove himself deep, burying his cock to the hilt. David felt his whole body go rigid against Kathryn. He held there, pulsing, his release pumping into her unprotected cunt.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant caw of a crow. Then Mike pulled out with a soft, wet pop. His cum, white and viscous, began to seep immediately from Kathryn’s used hole, dripping down her inner thigh.
Mike zipped his fly. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, lit one, and took a long drag. He looked down at David, who was still on his knees, his tongue tingling.
“Clean her up.”
David didn’t hesitate. The humiliation was a live wire in his gut, sparking directly to his own throbbing erection. He pressed his face between her cheeks. He licked upward, through the slippery fold, catching the mixed fluids—her arousal, Mike’s spend. It was salty, bitter, profoundly intimate. He lapped at her, cleaning her until she was slick only with his own saliva. Kathryn shuddered, a long, trembling sigh escaping her.
“Good boy,” she murmured, her fingers stroking his sweaty hair.
Mike finished his cigarette. “Back in the truck.”
The drive back started in silence. The taste of them both was a film on David’s tongue. He stared at the back of Mike’s head, at the short, coarse hair on his neck. His own cock ached, a desperate, ignored pain.
“He’s still hard,” Kathryn said softly, glancing back at David with a coy smile.
Mike checked the mirror. His expression didn’t change. “Take care of it.”
“David,” Kathryn said, her voice leaving no room. “Up here. Now.”
David clambered awkwardly over the console into the front. The truck was moving, the highway a steady stream beside them. Mike spread his legs slightly. David knelt on the floor mat, his head level with Mike’s hip. The cock was soft again, spent, but heavy. He took it into his mouth without being told.
It was a different submission. Active, weary. The flavor of cigarette smoke and skin and sex was overwhelming. Mike let him suckle for a minute, then a hand fisted in his hair.
“Get it hard. Use your throat.”
David tried. He bobbed his head, working his tongue, taking the softening flesh deeper until he gagged. Mike watched the road, his other hand resting lightly on the wheel. Gradually, under David’s frantic, choking attention, he began to stiffen again. Tears streamed from David’s eyes, blurring the dashboard lights.
Kathryn watched, her hand on Mike’s thigh, her thumb rubbing small circles. She didn’t touch David. She just observed, a quiet satisfaction in her blue eyes.
She just observed, a quiet satisfaction in her blue eyes.
Mike’s grip in David’s hair tightened, twisting the roots until his scalp burned. “Enough playing,” Mike grunted, his voice bored and steady over the hum of the highway. He yanked David’s head forward, forcing his mouth down onto the now fully rigid length.
David choked immediately, his nose crushed against Mike’s pubic bone. The cock filled his throat, a solid, unforgiving intrusion that triggered a violent gag reflex. Tears blurred his vision again. Mike held him there, not moving, letting David’s throat spasm and clutch around him.
“Breathe through it, cuck,” Mike said, a casual cruelty in his tone. He released the pressure just enough for a wet, ragged gasp, then shoved him down again.
This wasn’t like before. This was drowning. Each thrust was a brutal piston, Mike’s hips driving upward from the seat to meet the downward pull of his fist. The head of his cock battered the back of David’s throat, a relentless, pounding rhythm that matched the dashed lines on the road. Spit and pre-cum dripped down David’s chin, soaking the collar of his shirt.
Kathryn reached over and turned up the radio. A folk song swelled, its cheerful melody a grotesque soundtrack to the wet, choking sounds filling the cab.
Mike fucked his face with a mechanic’s precision, a man performing maintenance on a stubborn piece of equipment. His breathing barely changed. David’s hands fluttered uselessly at his sides before grabbing Mike’s thick thighs, his knuckles white, his body shaking with the effort to not vomit.
“You take it,” Mike commanded, his voice low and even. “You take every fucking inch. That’s all you’re for now.”
The pressure built low in Mike’s belly. David felt it in the subtle change of rhythm, a deeper, more possessive grind. Mike’s other hand came up to clamp David’s nose shut, sealing him in completely.
David’s lungs screamed. Black spots danced at the edges of his sight. Mike hammered into his throat three more times, short, brutal jabs, and then held him deep.
A hot, pulsed flood erupted directly into David’s esophagus. Mike came with a low, guttural sigh, his cum pumping in thick, salty ropes that David had no choice but to swallow. It was vile and intimate, a violation that seeped into his very core. The muscles in Mike’s thighs relaxed under David’s clutching hands.
Mike kept him pinned there until the last twitch subsided, until David had gulped down every last drop. Then he pushed him away. David collapsed back against the lower dash, gasping, strings of saliva and semen webbing his lips. He retched once, a dry, hollow convulsion, but nothing came up. It was all inside him.
Mike tucked himself away, zipped up, and adjusted the vent. “Get in the back,” he said, his eyes back on the road. “You’re dripping on the floor mat.”