Seduced By His Dirty Fingernails

[Toon]

Possibly, there is some true stuff in this story. Possibly, there is not.

 

Winter of 1991, somewhere in the Midwest

I had just finshed my first semester at an unremarkable state college where I'd made grades that were anything but great. I've always been called "smart", but never really did well in achool. Is there a name for nerds who suck at academics? I really had no pride left. I mean, I'm just slightly below average in every way with barely any social skills and maybe two people on the planet I could call "friends". Look at my avatar and subtract 25 years and add some glasses along with some unsexy facial scruff. That was me in this story. The opposite of hot. 

I was due to go home for Christmas with my parents. It was a three hour trip due South on the turnpike. My mom had called the night before and told me to keep an eye on the weather because a possible blizzard could hit. Is it bad that I secretly hoped it would?  No offence to my family, but they are as boring and deflated as I was. Staying at school would only mean I'd have to temporarily bunk in the dorm for international students. How bad could that be? Well I payed the price for my wishes because the sky was only a tad gray when I woke up on the morning I was due to leave. Of course. 

It was a short drive to the turnpike where I got my ticket to enter this joyride through a boring, flat landscape that was dead for the Winter. Radio reception was iffy in this region. Even FM. I fiddled around with the dial and eventually found some odd sort of talk show where two old guys were talking about how the moon landing was all fake, and the government always lied to us about everything. Is it bad that I really didn't care? I mean, one way or the other, there was nothing I could do about it. I barely noticed that I didn't see any other travelers on the road. As the radio crackpots  blathered on, it started to snow. It wasn't too bad -- it was just cemetary snow. Well, "Cemetary Snow"  is what I called it because they were just tiny flakes. They looked like the kind of snow you'd see in a dramatic movie where there's a Winter burial and the snow is just there for a melancholy effect. Does that make sense? Well, anyway -- it was minor and didn't even seem to accumulate on the ground.

After about 70 miles, I was nearly convinced that no man had ever actually set foot on the lunar surface...and the snow had gotten heavier. The flakes were still small but they were coming faster. I just kept my eyes on the road and felt a rod of alertness move straight up my spine. After 100 miles, I couldn't get the station anymore and the snow was getting worse in every way. The flakes were so big and so fast that they were alost a blur...a sideways-moving blur. I could also feel the wind picking up, moving my crappy little tin can car at its will. Uh oh. I was feeling a little panic, and thought briefly of trying to tune in some Christmas music to calm myself. But I didn't dare touch the radio so I could fully concentrate on the disappearing road. The speakers sputtered out static white noise as the storm got worse. Right up ahead I saw a blue Rest Area sign on the right. Good timing.  I pulled into the small parking lot where there were no other cars or even any big semi trucks you always see in these places. Well, sure. They all have access to weather reports we tin can car drivers do not. I parked and considered the situation. I hadn't smoked at all that day because my mom hated the smell, but now seemed like the perfect time for a cigarette. I cracked the window a bit and let that steel rod up my back soften ever so slightly. I used my mostly-empty can of Mountain Dew as an ashtray and tried using my mind to soften the storm, but that of course didn't work.

Thinking I just needed some extra time for my will over the weather to work, I opened the car door and made my way toward the restrooms. After a piss and maybe another smoke, surely this would all but be over with. I trudged up the mostly obscured sidewalk and noticed drifts had piled up the concrete box of toilets that had probably been here since Eisonhower was alive. It was obvious I should have worn heavier clothes because the freezing air went through me like an x-ray.  Once I got inside the men's room on the left of the building, I felt a little less vulnerable. It was ugly, smelly and lit only by bare lightbulbs in ancient fixtures on the ceiling -- but it was about fifteen degrees warmer than the outside.  I thought I'd probably take a nice long pee and smoke break, sitting on one of the toilets but two of the stalls were 'out of order' and the third one was clogged with massive turds. Never mind. I went to one of the urinals which were not seperated by any kind of partition. Even though I had the whole place to myself, I still hesitated about which urinal to pick. I finally chose the one furthest down the line away from the door and unzipped. I tried to pee, but my whole body was shivering and I was severely stressed out by the weather. My dick shrunk up like snai; and wouldn't let me vacate the contents of my bladder. 

Without zipping back up, I backed away a little and put a cigarette in my mouth. If I just kept standing and relaxed a bit, the pee would find its way out eventually. So I tried again. As the wind roared outside, I aimed at the drain and was almost there when I heard a loud creak as the door opened. Shit! I had no idea what to do. NO idea. Maybe it would be a capable state trooper who'd escort me safely home in his warm patrol SUV that had a plow attached to the front bumper. 

No. It was just a very regular-looking guy, not much older than me wearing sweats under a bright orange ski jacket. And flip-flops...in this kind of weather. I wasn't shocked or anything because I went to college with dudes who would wear shorts and sandals on the coldest days because they wanted to seem eccentric or else they just didn't have the money to do laundry ona regular basis. He didn't seem very collegiate. He looked like a guy who would repair combines or something. Whatever the case, I was determined to empty my water no matter what. I'd go back to my car and sit there with the heater on and maybe pray, Of course he lined up at he urinal next to me...which meant no pissing would happen soon. Goddamn him. I was going to pee despite this idiot. I let the cig tumble put of my mouth intp the drain below me. The guy pulled his sweats down and unleashed his dick right there where I could see. For Christ's sake! I stared straight ahead at the concrete tiles and focused on my own business. I didn't hear any flow on his side either. Nothing. I ventured a look and saw him holding his fat pink penis in his left hand.  I wasn't too impressed with his member, but I noticed his hand for sure. It was a rural hand. A working hand. I'm so stupid. What if he saw me staring and why was I staring? Whatever. The world was ending out there and I wanted to look. I couldn't help but notice his nails. They were jagged - as if he cut them with a dull handsaw. And they were so black. Most people think that dirty nails are caused by actual dirt, soil. But it's mostly dead skin cells, body oil and food. There's a word for this, but I don't know it. I'm  a lousy student, remember?

As I'm mesmerized by the dude's dirty nails, I noticed his dick was getting erect. It went from 'average' to 'above average' to 'very above average' in ten seconds. I had to make myself look up at him, and of course he was watching me watch his stuff. Oh fuck it! I was so far beyond embarrassment eight then that I just said "Hi.". We turned toward each other with our dicks hanging out od our flies, He was taller and cuter than I'd  noticed at first. What to say next? 

"Nice hands", I said stupidly. 

"Huh?", he really sounded confused -- I guess because he thought I was going to compliment his dick.

"Well. I mean. Nice ... big hands. And the. The dick is really nice too, I'm sorry,"

He laughed and I looked at the floor. I'm so dumb. He'd probably beat the hell out of me now. This stranger. I waited for it.

"what he hell are you doing here, kid?"

My words were still formless, but I tried to say that I was going home. All that came out were sudden loud sobs and a few words like "Christmas" and "Mom". And then I collapsed under the weight of my own panic and hit the floor.

"Stay here", he said and bolied for the exit, his flip-flops clicking urgently as he scurried away. 

I was all alone. In a bathroom. In a blizzard. I've never had a passion for life, but never thought it'd end like this.

Seconds later, the guy came back with his arms overloaded with army-green blankets and two orange sleeping bags. He busied himself making a little green and orange nest in the back of the cement room where there was once a stall that had been removed. 

"Come get warm", he said with chattering teeth. 

I was confused.

"Here??"

"What? You want to camp outside?"

I felt like I was nine years old. "What if somebody comes in? What if help comes?"

He looked at me like I was a total idiot. "The whole turnpike is shut down. Get it? There's no going North and no going South".

"Meaning?"

His face softened and his eyes were figuring out how to now see me. "Meaning...we've got the whole middle of the state to ourselves". And then he smiled and came over to help me up off the floor.

He led me back to our makeshift suite of blankets and sleeping bags and layed me down like my mom would. The fluffy sleeping bags were our mattress and the blankets made a comforter. It was amazingly nice and cozy. We were both laying on our backs and having our own thoughts without talking. I didn't figure we'd talk anymore the whole night. I was alost relaxed until he spoke up. "What did you say about my hands again?"

Oh man.

I  guess there was no being shy at this point. "I just noticed how nice your hands were...and your fingers...and your fingernails". I didn't stumble on a single word.

SILENCE

Then he kaughed a little and held his left arm out straight above our heads to catch what little light we had. "Jeezus, dude. My fingernails are filthy as fuck! You didn't notice that?"

I reached out of the warm blanket and pulled his hand down to my face, I licked the palm and made it a point o suck each fingertip. I guess I'd made my  point. 

"Wow. Thanks, man. Did you notice anything else?"

I scanned my useless brain for something I'd forgotten to mention.

"Check it out", he whispered as he twisted his arm to show me the underside of his thick wrist. There I saw a biohazard tattoo. I knew what it was from visits to the doctor's office and seeing that red trash can with the same symbol on it. That's where gloves, needles and bandages went. It was a hospital thing.

"Are you a doctor?", I ventured.

"Yes. That's it. I'm here to cure you of yourself. Get it?"

I didn't. But as I wondered what he meant, he was on top of me. OK. I was thinking I was ready for this step. He pulled my jeans off and ripped my underwear . He was kissing me and I tasted him. As I searched for a description of his flavor, he stuck one of his dirty, nasty fingers in my asshole. He was scratching in there on purpose. Then there were two dirty fingers inside. Shit. I was going to get an infection of some sort. I needed to put a stop to this shit, but as I pre-formed my protest my hero was suddenly higher on top of me and the head of his dick was inside my hole. GOD! How can anything hurt that much? I'd broken my arm when I was ten and it didn't hurt like this. But it was sex. Right? Man Sex is supposed to be like this?  I had so much to think about and so much pain to process, but I was forced to deal with Hero Man's rapid thrusting and animal grunts. I wanted him to look at me, but his eyes were shut tight as he made one last thrust and growled. 

I sure wanted to talk about all this, but he just tunbled into sleep. I wasn't tired at all until suddenly I was. I wormed my way down into the pile of blankets and felt sleep attack me like a grizzly bear.  Merry Christmas, I guess. 

 

 

 

 

[seattlebbbtm]

This is well written; good plot and great sex

[MackyJay]

Hope there is more to this story as it makes a nice start.

[TTFN]

They have the "hole" night for second and thirds maybe someone else will join them in their love nest.

[lynn1964]

Superb premise for a story Toon. As usual, you put me right in the car, in the restroom trying to piss. A head full of words, yet not one sentence could I speak.