Road rubber

As I stood in front of the urinal at a motorway service station the other day, out of the corner of my eye, something caught my attention. It was neither a couple furtively exiting a cubicle together in a post-coital dash, nor a guy at the next urinal massaging his 14″ tattooed leviathan, but a metal box on the wall. I’ve noticed these before, have used them from time to time, and a friend of a friend even had one in her home, but I’d never contemplated their presence here before.

It was of course a humble condom dispensing machine.

I don’t know if the same can be said for the rest of the world, but in my experience in the UK, the most likely place you are to find a condom machine is in the toilets of a pub or club. I can understand that – you’re out on the pull, you meet a similarly inclined stunner, wearing the same beer goggles, and who desperately wants to milk the juices from your balls with nothing but her athletic pussy, and … oops … you both used your last rubbers last night in a similar situation … you need a condom fast. The bar management know this problem has arrisen many times before in their establishment and, mindful of the value of return customers in a recession, are happy to condone, nay, assist your fornication. Thank goodness they keep the vending machine well stocked. You dash to the nearest bed and fuck eachother’s brains out, safe in the knowledge that she won’t be calling you in a month to tell you she peed on a stick and it tuned blue, and you won’t have to call her with bad news about the results from the clinic. It’s easy to see why you’d sell condoms in a pub.

When I considered the box on the wall, initially I wondered quite why motorway service stations sell jonnies in the gender privacy of the toilets? Do so many people really find themselves simultaneously desperate for a piss and desperate for prophylactics? But then it struck me that there are indeed needy customers.

Firstly, there are plenty of traveling sales reps passing through such places, away from their wives, bored and horny. Maybe they are visiting their mistresses en route to cancelled meetings, the complexity and banality of which they will recount in realistic detail across the dinner table when they return home. It wouldn’t pay for the wife to discover condoms in hubbie’s wallet when they’ve not been needed for 9yrs.

And motorway services frequently have hotels attached. I’m pretty confident that the escort who’s quim I have most seriously considered renting, occasionally books herself into such accommodation to service a few cocks. It’s discrete, the staff on the desk are as disinterested in her hourly visitors as she probably is, and the Johns are never going to bump into anyone they know … unless their appointments with the hooker somehow manage to overlap. There’s no way she’s going to let a sleaze bag deposit the contents of his ball bag in her, rather than in a rubber. She may need to stock up.

Then there are the long distance truckers who park up over night to rest their tachographs. Sometimes they get lonely. Sometimes their porn mags get too sticky to keep. What are they supposed to do but knock on the door of a nearby cab and see if there’s a lonely bear at home. They’re gonna be looking for some protection if they’re about to invite a stranger to bugger them, aren’t they?


And let’s not forget the adolescent boys who’ve never even had their sweaty hands in a girl’s bra. As they head off on the school coach trip they need to stock up with condoms as a badge of honour – to display their manhood to fellow virgins in the back seats of the bus, before stretching one over their head and inflating it through their nose. Either that or they’re going to fill these balloons with water and drop their bombs from the museum gallery onto unsuspecting tour guides.

On reflection, I had to concede, whilst I’ve never seen anyone using these machines, there are indeed a whole lot of people who will be looking to procure some ribbed and flavoured sheaths when they’ve stopped to fill their tanks and drain their bladders. And we should be thankful for their provision.

4 Responses to “Road rubber”

  1. workspousestory Says:

    …and yet I would not trust condoms from a dispenser. Too much at stake, haha…. Sorry!

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