Truck Stop Kids
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,718
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,718
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Truck Stop Kids
Truck stop children, eyes tired, their legs spotted with sores. Their momma’s the bitch next to the 18-wheeler, the one with her tits barely staying inside her blouse. That’s her waving, see them run over? Gotta run fast – There, the slow one got a smack on the ass for not keeping up. Then they look up into the window.
Driver looks down, motions at one of them. The boy? The girl? Hard to tell, they both look the same in their faded t-shirts, their stretched-out old shorts. He points at the smaller one, then momma looks his way, and he smiles up at him, kind of tired. Momma jerks her head, and makes him climb up into the cab.
Truck stop kids, they rent for 50 bucks – She got more, back when their asses were fresher. How long’s she been peddling them? How long since they sat in a classroom, looked up at a smiling teacher and sounded out C-A-T cat? How long they been slapped upside the head for not smiling, how long they been getting their asses whacked so they’d jump up into that cab?
Momma’s a bitch, but it’s all she knows. She’s been peddling them ever since they could fit a cock into their ass, like she was peddled by her momma, and her by hers before that. You want to feel sorry? Feel sorry for her why don’t you, feel sorry for all of them, right back to the first one whose momma decided kids’ asses ought to rent by the hour. Or maybe you don’t feel sorry for none of them, maybe you’re just too tired.
Maybe you got a point. Nothing to feel sorry for here, they’re just truck stop children, flip-flops flapping as they run over to an 18-wheeler. Just baby-bitches, learning from momma, looking up into the cab and doing their best to smile, while the morning light comes over the mountains, and the lights in the parking lot start fading away. Nothing to worry about here, no one to feel sorry for. Put the cap back on your gas tank, it’s time to get on down the road.
Driver looks down, motions at one of them. The boy? The girl? Hard to tell, they both look the same in their faded t-shirts, their stretched-out old shorts. He points at the smaller one, then momma looks his way, and he smiles up at him, kind of tired. Momma jerks her head, and makes him climb up into the cab.
Truck stop kids, they rent for 50 bucks – She got more, back when their asses were fresher. How long’s she been peddling them? How long since they sat in a classroom, looked up at a smiling teacher and sounded out C-A-T cat? How long they been slapped upside the head for not smiling, how long they been getting their asses whacked so they’d jump up into that cab?
Momma’s a bitch, but it’s all she knows. She’s been peddling them ever since they could fit a cock into their ass, like she was peddled by her momma, and her by hers before that. You want to feel sorry? Feel sorry for her why don’t you, feel sorry for all of them, right back to the first one whose momma decided kids’ asses ought to rent by the hour. Or maybe you don’t feel sorry for none of them, maybe you’re just too tired.
Maybe you got a point. Nothing to feel sorry for here, they’re just truck stop children, flip-flops flapping as they run over to an 18-wheeler. Just baby-bitches, learning from momma, looking up into the cab and doing their best to smile, while the morning light comes over the mountains, and the lights in the parking lot start fading away. Nothing to worry about here, no one to feel sorry for. Put the cap back on your gas tank, it’s time to get on down the road.