AT THE FILLING STATION
By The Gay Narrator

I was on holiday alone in the South West of England where the pace of life is somewhat slower and people have time to chat to you in shops and cafes and even in the street, and it is always service with a smile wherever you go. I was driving from my hotel on the north Devon coast to the southern part of the county and into neighbouring Cornwall via the country lanes and through picturesque villages, when I realised I was running low on fuel. I kept my eyes open for a filling station and eventually came across one about three villages further down the road.

It was one of those old-fashioned types (and there are only a few left) which are not self service. I got out of the car and looked around, then noticed that there was a bell push on the single petrol pump, which said press here for service. I pressed the bell and after a few moments a door opened and a young lad in red overalls ambled towards me and asked me what he could do for me. I asked him to fill the car for me, which he did, all the while chatting politely. During our conversation he asked where I was headed and I told him the south coast.

“I'm heading that way later, he said, I'm meeting my b... my friend this afternoon in Looe. (The name of a popular seaside resort).”

Just as he spoke an older man came out of the same door and shouted across, “You may as well get off now, Nicky, and disappeared again.”

“If you're going straight away perhaps I can give you a lift, I said, I haven't been to Looe for years!”

“Well, just come inside and pay, sir,” he said, “I'll change quickly and then I'll take you up on your offer, thank you very much.”

We went inside and he went behind the counter and took payment for the fuel and gave me my change. “Thanks er... Sorry, I don't know your name.”

“Bob,” I told him, “pleased to meet you, Nicky.”

He came back round the counter and then took me totally by surprise and removed his boots and after checking there was nobody else around he removed his overall, carefully folded it and put it in a cupboard in the corner. He was now left wearing a pair of socks and his underpants.

Of course, I could not help but look! He was a handsome lad in every way. He was around 5-9" tall (the same as me) with jet black hair, his eyes were brown and his features were finely chiseled. He had quite broad shoulders tapering down to a nice narrow waist. His slim but muscular legs led down to feet that were rather small for his height. His nicest feature, was popping out of the left leg of his clean, but rather well-worn, loose fitting underpants which had ridden up somewhat under his overall. Yes, I could see the head of his cock sticking out. He MUST have been able to feel it against his leg, so he must have known it was showing but he made no attempt to hide it, in fact he put his tee shirt on first, then turned and smiled at me, catching me gazing at his crotch. He smiled again, reached for his trousers and said,