Antoine Rucker leads a double life. During the day he's the young beast ruling the IT department at Equitable Insurance. At night he walks the streets of Atlanta selling his body. What inner demons drive this young man? Is it the money or the monkey on his back? Dare to read the excerpt below before you take the journey into Antoine's life. Warning! 18+ Only
Highway Seventy-five running from Atlanta to Valdosta was extra packed with folks heading to Florida for some sun or that last romp through Disney World. It’s also filled with big rigs carrying timber and fruit back and forth. I turned off the highway, scattering gravel as I slid into the rest stop’s parking lot. It was a small place not much bigger than a garage shed and not too far from the Lions Den 24 Hour Adult Emporium. I remembered from my college years; it was a favorite place for truckers. I sat in my car for a moment looking at the parade of men waddling in and out of the restroom. A Highway Patrol Officer sat parked two cars away. He glanced at me a few times. I picked up my phone and pretended to be talking. In a moment, he pulled out of the stop and headed up the highway toward Atlanta. I got out of my car and walked into the restroom. I pissed and waited. Whenever the door opened, I pretended I was peeing or finishing up. Another dude came in stood at the urinal next to me. He spat, and it took him a while for him to pee. I glanced at him to see if he was waiting for a signal from me. He gave me a go-to-hell look and left without washing his hands. I continued to wait. A group of teen boys burst in. They pissed and made a mess at the sink splashing each other with water. After a few minutes of punching each one another, they left and the restroom grew quiet. The frosted window above the stalls turned gray indicating the sun was going down. I waited. My cell jiggled in my pocket. I knew it was my mother calling to inquire about my whereabouts. I let it ring. The door opened quietly and another guy came and stood at the urinal next to mine. He had a choice of ten toilets between the door and me. I took this to be a sign. A tattoo of a snake ran the length of his forearm and disappeared into his sleeve. Piss gushed out of him.
“Ready for the weekend?” He asked looking at me.Silence and furtive glances are the codes for hooking up. The sound of one’s voice breaks the spell of anonymity. I nodded. He was white and big bellied like Larry the Jailer. When he finished pissing, he walked over to a stall and held the door open. I shut the door behind us. He stood in front of the toilet, and I jumped up on the seat and squatted so no one could see two pairs of feet in the same stall. I wrapped my arms around his waist to keep from falling, and he pulled his dick out. I took it in my mouth. His crotch smelled like a fishing pier. In a moment he was hard and pumping my throat. Other men came in and went out. I glimpsed the shadows of their feet. For some strange reason I had the urge to throw open the door so they could see, join in or call us names. My guy flushed the toilet to throw off any suspicions and to drown out the noise I made sucking his cock. He held my head against him until I gagged. We went at it until his breathing grew heavy, and he yanked his cock from my mouth. His cum splattered my left cheek. It was hot and runny. I grabbed his dick and licked the tiny drop hanging on the tip, then tore off some toilet paper and wiped my face. I slipped the paper into my pocket. We listened to the feet shuffling on the concrete floor. When it was quiet, he went out first. I waited to make sure he had time to get in his rig or car and drive off. I then trotted to my car and continued on to Valdosta.
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