{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"3395961f-e93f-450d-9114-f4884248db9c","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2025-10-18T00:33:38.363Z","title":"The Windowless Van","slug":"the-windowless-van","shortId":"1CgFU1YE","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Dating back 20+years, my habit of throwing caution to the wind gets me trapped in a pretty messy and depraved sexual corner. The only way around this obstacle is through.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"dd93a482-d3af-455e-bc62-172ecfc0bcde","title":"The Windowless Van","summary":"I lived in New York for most of my life. Contained in the area I grew up in, I found out in my 20s, ","wordCount":3453,"readTime":17,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"The Windowless Van","content":"

I lived in New York for most of my life. Contained in the area I grew up in, I found out in my 20s, was an underground network of places a guy could go to find other guys for the purpose of getting off. My favorite spot wasn’t a bathhouse or adult novelty store with those booths in the back, both of which were available to me if I felt the urge, and I did…often.

My favorite was an unassuming park and ride off a major highway that ran about 4.625 miles from my house. Actually it was exactly 4.625 miles from my house. I clocked it. I loved this location for its many and frequent repeat visitors, the filthy act of being fucked in a car by a nameless stranger and then going back to find another, and especially a wooded area one could access through an opening that some forward thinking pervert cut into the fence allowing one to pass from completely visible to shroud in darkness and surrounded by trees. This experience doesn’t take place in that wooded area, though. This takes place in a van, a windowless van.

When guys showed up, they showed up in a four-door sedan, an SUV, or a minivan (lol….minivan). I would arrive in a sedan. Some space, but not ideal for sprawled out, balls deep buttfucking, so if I met a guy who impressed me enough to let him inside me, it was usually his ride we did the deed in.

One day, a guy showed up in a van with no windows, which cruisers took as someone dropping another someone off from a completed work day, not another of their kind. When vehicles entered the lot, they would drive slowly around the long aisles, make slow, deliberate turns, and stare long into the cars looking to make eye contact with the guy in the driver’s seat. Sometimes they pulled right up beside the car of the guy they were interested in fooling around with. This second strategy was how the van got my attention.

When he pulled up next to me, I waited a few seconds and gave a peripheral glance to get a feel for if I should give him my attention. After another 30 seconds, I turned my head and looked straight at him. Nine out of ten times, if communication made it this far, it led to further, more familiar lines of contact. For me, eye contact meant, at least, a handjob. He looked to be in his early 50s, some 25-30 years my senior. He was in shape and as we made our introductions, I got right to the point, the way I like to do things, and asked what he was packing and if I could see it. He pulled his jogging shorts down enough to see his soft member, average, at first sighting, but oh how things can grow on a person as anyone who has sucked enough cock would eventually find out.

I decided to take things further. It was my choice to move forward since he had approached me. We had to choose which vehicle which of us would get into. Clearly the van was the best option so, without argument, I complied. When agreeing to enter the vehicle of another, a person I didn’t know, I always had these thoughts from the time I exited my vehicle to the moment I entered theirs. Thoughts like, “I must be fucking nuts!” or, “This guy better last more than 30 seconds. I’m not taking a risk like this just to be pumped twice with a semi-hard, geriatric member.” I had these feelings walking to this guy’s van.

As I entered, he kindly greeted me with his name and some generic salutation. Bad start. I don’t want names. Names are too familiar. I get the idea that if things go well, this character thinks there’s going to be a second rendezvous. For me, there almost never was. I liked the anonymity. Something special needs to happen, something that, once the experience is done, makes it impossible to stop thinking about weeks afterwards. So names assume a lot. And a kind greeting gives too much away. It tells me, from the start, that this guy cares that I feel safe in his van. If I wanted the feeling of safety, I wouldn’t be in a parking lot looking for strange men that want to have sex with me. Leave kind words at the door and provide some mystique, or even misdirection, that makes me wonder if, now that the doors are locked and the wheels are turning, I may have made an unsafe choice stepping into this vehicle. As it turned out, misdirection was exactly the tactic this non-gentle gentleman was about to use on me. So I responded with a nondescript, “Hello,” and we rolled away.

The first thing I did as soon as it was appropriate was to turn to the rear of the van and scope it out. I’m not sure how I would have reacted had I seen nothing but duct tape and thick gauge twine, but since these two staples of your rank and file rape were nowhere to be found I breathed a bit more deeply and relaxed myself.

I suddenly realized I had to take a leak. It was an immediate rush of a sensation. I was in a spot. We had already pulled out of the lot, so I couldn’t excuse myself to the wooded area for a moment, on top of that, I had no clue where this stone-faced gentleman was going. These were the two things flooding my thoughts. “I have to pee sooooooo bad!” and, “This guy might have a shed in some remote area. He might be one of those calm lunatics!!” The second thought made the first even more pressing, and I began to feel my cock contract, then release, contract, release. On every release, I felt a few small drops of urine travel down my hard shaft and slip from the head of my cock.

I asked, “Hey, can we stop like right now! I gotta go so bad.” I stared with desperation hoping this would provide enough evidence of how much of an emergency this was. He replied, “Just hold your horses. We’re almost there.” Then he added with cryptic charm in the shape of a low smile, his voice as calm as a Hindu cow, “Besides, we are going to need that nice warm pee. A little slut like you deserves to be filthy and that how I’m leaving you when I’m done using you. Like a filthy little slut covered in filthy pee and wads of cum.” I shuddered as I considered the possibilities. My heart began to race wildly in my chest. I was, to say the least and avoid hyperbole, concerned.

Our destination required a drive on a dirt road for about five hundred feet. I stared in the rear view mirror watching the headlights on the main road shrinking until they were out of sight. Ahead of us was literally nothing that could be considered part of a normal civilization.

Five minutes after this man’s demeaning comment, the van came to a halt. We had arrived. The headlights went out. Nothing special. Out the front windshield I saw blackness, like a night of clouds hovering overhead blanketing any light from the sky, giving no aid to our ability to see more than a few feet in front of the van. In a distinguished voice, he told me to get in the rear of the van. I did as he asked. I was a little excited and very scared, to be honest. I was no slouch and if this guy decided to try anything that would result in my death, I felt confident I could fight my way out of the van. But I can’t outrun a bullet. Who knows?

The first thing he did was to shut a door that blocked the front of the van from the rear. Then he turned on the light. His cock was already drooping out of the waistband of his shorts. He was cut, but when soft, pretty average. Seeing his cock out actually made me less concerned about his intentions.

He gave me a long look, with a sort of repose that was difficult to make out. Was he angry, satisfied, excited? No idea. He came close to me, took my hand, and moved it toward his flaccid member. “Grab it. Get it hard before I take you.” Take me? He said those words...take me. Like we were going to an amusement park after I furiously whacked him off to completion. I grabbed his manhood and squeezed it, immediately feeling a reactive throb pulsate through his now quickly growing shaft. Now, at least I knew he was excited. That was a good sign. I started getting into it by being verbal with him.

“My ass wants this cock so badly,” I beckoned.

“Shut the fuck up, slut!” This was the first time he raised his voice to me and the second time his behavior made the fear in me return to the forefront. I cast my head down and saw that his cock had grown to a great size from how it originated in my hand. My fingertips could just fit around the whole girth and touch. I looked back up at him and his eyes shown fire as he told me that something was about to happen, but I dared not speak a word. It was silent but for the sound of his cock skin rubbing through my hand slowly.

The next thing that happened was unforgettable, disgusting, but truly a singular experience. There was a thick pillow in the corner of the van which he commanded me to retrieve, “Be a good cock whore and fetch that pillow. No words, just fetch. And don’t forget to do it on all fours, so I can see that little slutty asshole you give out to all the men at that lot.” I became confused at this demand because I had shorts on, too, so he wouldn’t be able to see my hole. I misstepped and began crawling with my shorts still on.

“God, you’re stupid AND a filthy cum slut, huh?” I gave a shy look of shame as he bluntly spoke, “Take ‘em off!” I jumped at the halted tone he took. When I jumped, the sudden rush returned, and I realized I still had a full bladder of piss inside me, but I removed my shorts and threw them to the side, regardless. Fully exposed, I bent over to crawl to the pillow and retrieve it, but as I crawled, a small portion of urine dripped from my cock. I was so full of the yellow stuff; it began to leak out like a poorly built dam.

He warned me, “You won’t let another drop leak out of you, or I’ll clothespin your cock shut until it’s time.” So I retrieved the pillow. His next command got me so hot, I almost squirted piss into a puddle beneath me. “Now, place the pillow here, in front of my knees. Then you will lay on your back in missionary. Finally, I will force your knees way back. You will keep them by your head.” His instructions had a beat to them. But his final instruction took a different tone altogether. “Then, I’m going to plunge my cock so far up your ass, you’re going to end up being your own toilet.” Pissing on myself while a rock-solid pork sword violated my sweet anal cavity. I’d been involved in watersports before this incident one time, and I was in a shower to wash it off almost immediately. This was an entirely different experience, one free from any sort of stall to remove the mess from my body once it emptied itself.

The next few moments happened quickly. I lay down, placed the pillow beneath my lower back which raised my ass up about 6 inches, and lifted my legs into the air. As soon as my legs were fully akimbo, my assailant grabbed them, pushed them until they were pinned down, spit a gob of saliva which landed perfectly on my opening, placed the head of his cock at my back door, and with one lubed thrust, his cock breached my sphincter and travelled forward until, indeed, he kept his promise, and the first of dozens of piss shots escaped my semi-solid meat stick. The shots landed everywhere and only shot out when the bastard’s cock went to the balls, triggering something inside me that pushed a hard squirt of pee at different parts of my body; my face, shoulders, chest, stomach, and arms were absolutely covered when he finally began to berate me.

“What is it, you little, piss-covered cum bag? Do you not like this treatment? Too dirty for you? Look at you! You're absolutely disgusting.” He fucked me deeply as he said these things, forcing more piss out of me, not squirting out, but rather dribbling out, so it travelled down my shaft, past my balls, my taint, onto his cock which he proceeded to fuck into my ass. I got so fucking turned on by how disrespectful and how degrading his treatment was of me, I started fucking back, moving my arms, so my body would meet his thrusts. “What a goddamn whore!” You deserve all of this; I really mean that. All the piss on your upper body, deserved. The huge load I’m about to breed you with, deserved. How I’m going to fuck you even after I cum, not to get off more, but just to release as much cum as possible before pushing it all the way up into your pelvis, all deserved.”

I wanted so badly to speak, but realized, after his rage from when I spoke earlier, that part of my role wasn’t to communicate, it was to remain quiet and do what I’m told. Clearly, his intent was to urge the warm, pale yellow piss out of me and onto my whole body. The whole can smelled like a public bathroom at a truck stop on some near abandoned highway. What was inside me, had flooded out of me and all that was left was for my master to bury his load deep into me.

The way he ended inside me was really hot. He told me to stay still, that he had ropes of his cock juice to unload into my dirty little cock sleeve. So I remained as still as he thrust his hips against my asscheeks. As a final violation, he took his thumbs, inserted them into my ass to either side of his about to explode manhood, and pulled them in opposite directions, stretching my o-ring so wide I thought I was going to scream, until he glared at me and said everything with one look. I fought the scream down into my stomach as his face became soft, and his eyes rolled back. Hot man goo splashed against the walls of my asshole. Shot after shot flooded my hungry pucker until he finished, commanding me to stay put.

The aftermath was exactly what was needed to cap the experience off perfectly, literally. There was a box where I had retrieved the pillow from earlier. He opened it and pulled out a fat, unforgivingly sized butt plug. “Since you are constantly catching loads up your asshole, this will ensure they all remain inside you. Don’t resist or flinch from the size. If you do, I’ll punish you? Just relax and find comfort in the fact that your hole is going to leak cum from it for days after this. But I’m sure you’re used to it.”

The plug was large. With plenty of experience and a dossier of toys at my own personal disposal back home, I was able to deduce that, at its widest point, this crowbar of a plug was around 6-8 inches. Now my sweet hole has engulfed that and larger before, but I was usually the one pushing, so I took my time. I didn’t want to damage the goods, soI’d take precaution. This was different. He didn’t hammer it home, no. The first thing he did was take a tube of some sort of tooth numbing gel and coat the upper half of the thing. “Breathe in deeply, cunt.”

He began to breach my opening. He had this technique of pulsing it inward. A little of the length at each pulse. My hole almost immediately numbed to any sort of discomfort allowing me to react positively to the sensation of slowly being stretched wider and wider. Then, suddenly, I felt the rim of my sore sphincter swallow the widest point of the plug until it was gone, but for the base, which was still in the firm grasp of this man who had a clear view of the plug locking in place.

He gave one of his last commands to me. “Now we can be sure that your hole won’t go spilling the goods all over my van. Go now to the front of the van and sit.” So I did. I was still numb to the effect of the plug since he applied a large amount of that numbing agent before making me take it.

Several moments later, he joined me in the driver’s seat, commenting on how badly I smelled and how only a “disgraceful whore boy” would have piss that smelled this bad. He told me to keep my mouth shut. I did, and we drove back to the lot with the plug still locked up my ass.

Upon returning to the lot, I looked to find cars making rounds to find their next sexual experience. It was late, but still, many vehicles packed the driveways and parking spots. I could tell the numbing agent was wearing off because I started to feel a mild stinging sensation between my pillowy buns. He parked, told me to get out, plug still inside me, and walk around to his side of the van. When I did, he told me to turn and bend over. He proceeded to grab hold of the plug base and pull slowly until I felt the pop of my once tight manhole releasing it.

He did this on the opposite side of the lot from where my car was parked, the cock sucker! I realized this only after he yanked the rest of the plug from my opening and quickly took off, making me have to, very carefully, walk to my car, stepping lightly, since I began to feel just how sorely he left my now gaping tunnel of a hole. As I walked, ever so gingerly, to my car, cruisers slowly passing me and looking with curiosity at who I might be, I started feeling slow streams of liquid trailing down the inside of both my thighs, then down past my knees until that deranged man’s deposit began to soak the tops of my ankle socks. My hole just couldn’t retain anything.

I finally arrived at my car and, as quickly as I could, retrieved my keys and opened the door. Sitting down was a chore and had to be done by easing myself down onto the seat after placing a travel pillow on it. It still hurt and by this point, that numbing agent had worn off, and I felt myself leaking. I felt the sore state this brute left my butt in, and to top it all off, I could feel the stickiness and smell the undeniable odor of all that I pissed onto myself. The smell made my mind reflect on how hard he fucked my ass, to be able to hit my bladder causing me to release all that odoriferous and noxious fluid until I was soaked.

I had to admire the guy. Some people would read this and call it rape, but no. To this day, I think back to this harrowing experience with fondness. I was scared and we were isolated. He yelled at me and said things to me that made me feel like shit. But it was a role. I was picked by him to play the other part. I believe we both played our parts well.

Sometime soon, I’ll be sure to save the hot and smelly piss inside me for when I’m about to be pounded on by some stranger with a 10” crotch wand. My hope is that the sight of me squirting on my body with every one of his thrusts only serves to make that stranger impale me harder. There’s no room for those with weak stomachs on the path I’m traveling.

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