Revised version copyright 2009 by the author.
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The cab of the big rig is huge and cool. I smell leather, diesel fuel, and cigarette smoke. The place hums with the vibration of the idling engine.
I turn to the trucker sitting in the driver's seat, his eyes frank with lust. One rough hand rests on his denim-clad thigh, the thumb moving back and forth over the bulge in his jeans.
A quarter of an hour ago I'd been speeding eastward on I-10, just over the Louisiana border from Texas. The Diet Coke I drank at lunch was having its effect. When I saw the rest stop I pulled in, got out of my car, and hurried into the men's room, my bladder screaming for relief. As my stream gushed into the urinal I looked around--I needed another kind of relief too, but no one was here. I sighed, shook myself off, zipped up my gray dress slacks and flushed.
I couldn't face getting back in the car right away. The sun was hot, but there was a breeze and it was pleasant out despite the roaring traffic. I sat on a bench in front of the rest rooms.
Down at the entrance ramp I saw an eighteen-wheeler lumber in and park. The driver got out and started toward the men's room.
I speak to him for the first time. "How's it going?"
He nods. "Not bad, but I'm really horny," he says, in a thick scratchy Southern drawl.
"I can take care of that."
He climbs from his seat, slides past me, and heads through a curtained partition behind us. I follow him into the sleeper cab.
As he approached I checked him out. He had a dark blond ponytail, shaggy mustache, and startlingly blue eyes in a tanned face. He also had quite a package in his tight faded jeans. As he disappeared into the men's room I saw his head whip back toward me. I snapped to attention, and so did my cock. Moments later he reappeared. As he passed me our eyes met and locked. His hand cupped the bulge between his legs. He didn't slacken his pace, but as I gazed after him he glanced again over his shoulder.
I sit on the bed against the wall. He moves toward me, unbuttoning his jeans. Underneath he's wearing skimpy blue bikini briefs. In contrast to his leathery tanned face and arms, the skin below his navel is milky, delicate. I reach inside his underwear and pull uncut meat out of blond pubes. As I lean down my nostrils catch a faint whiff of his clean scent. I peel the foreskin back, put it in my mouth and go to work.
I stared at him all the way back to his truck. He paused at the driver side door and looked in my direction yet again. His hand lingered longer on his crotch this time. He opened the door and disappeared inside.
I stood and strolled toward the truck. The windows of the cab were tinted so I couldn't see him. I stopped directly across the street from the rig.
Nothing happened for long moments. Then the passenger side door of the cab opened a crack. I took a quick look up and down the ramp before I crossed the street, hearing the rumble of the idling engine. The door opened wider. I hoisted myself onto the step, then I was inside.
The trucker's cock fills out to its full, rigid length in my mouth. He sighs. "Oh, man," he whispers. Salty precum flows. My own cock pokes up inside my pants as I blow him.
He grabs my head and starts to fuck my face, slamming his crotch into me. I hang on, trying to keep my throat relaxed and the spit flowing. Despite my efforts I start to choke and pull my head away. "Don't stop," he protests, but settles for keeping me near the action while he jacks himself furiously. Tongue out, I watch the moist purple head appear and disappear under his foreskin. Small guttural sounds rise from his throat as the speed of his hand increases to a blur.
"Oh, man," he cries again. His dick spits cum over my face and tongue in warm spurts. I swallow some. More drips onto my shirt and pants.
"Oh, geez, sorry man," he says, panting. I'm breathless and sweating too, despite the air-conditioned cab.
"No problem." I smile. "Tastes good."
He considerately hands me a roll of paper towels from somewhere nearby. I clean myself up as best I can. I look up to say so long, thank him maybe. The trucker looks back at me, his eyes still wide with need. He makes no move to dress himself.
"What is it, bud?"
After a pause, he says, "Fuck me?"
I raise my eyebrows. "You sure?"
"Got any protection?"
He moves away from me toward the head of the bed. He bends over, and I get a look at his small, smooth butt cheeks underneath his shirttails. My cock, which has softened a bit, leaps up and presses against my fly. I unfasten my pants and release it.
The trucker is rummaging in a small compartment built into the bed frame. When he turns around he is holding a wrapped condom and a small plastic bottle.
"You've done this before," I observe. A smile flashes from his face, shy and engaging, surprising me. He hands me the stuff and turns his back again, leaning over the shelf on which the bed is laid and bracing himself against the wall.
I hurry to catch up. I stand, my pants falling, and strip off my soiled shirt. There's a wet spot on my briefs in the middle of the bulge in front. I pull them down and my cock finally springs free, the dark cut head engorged, insistent. Quickly I tear the condom wrapper open and unroll the lubed latex over myself, then squeeze the bottle and smear the cold gel over my shaft.
The trucker turns his head to see what's going to be plugging his hole. He pulls his blue work shirt up with one hand, baring his ass and the curve of his lower back. He gathers the material together in front and stuffs it into his mouth as he assumes the position. Damn, that's hot. I move behind him, almost tripping over my pants. The ridiculousness of our coupling only makes it hotter. There's no finesse in this encounter, only feverish raw lust between two strangers who'll never see each other again.
I probe between his cheeks with my finger until I find the tight, tender circle of his asshole. I guide my cock there and wait just a moment before I start to push. His flesh resists, then yields. I look down to see the head of my cock disappear between his cheeks, feeling the ring of his sphincter muscles grab it and draw into the hot smoothness of his insides.
I hear a muffled yell of pain and stop myself from sliding in further. "Sorry," I say to him, and wait. In a moment he turns his head and nods. I push into him again. This time a long "mmm" of satisfaction wells up from his throat. His head snaps back as my cock slowly splits him open. Finally I'm all the way in, my pubes brushing his hairless cheeks, my balls pressed against his butt.
"Fuff mmph," he says into the cloth stuffed in his mouth.
"You got it." I begin to pump. His hole squeezes and releases my prick, driving me wild. My left hand grabs his shoulder, my right reaches around and finds his cock. I jack him off in rhythm with my thrusts, leaning back, looking down and watching my sheathe piston pound his fuck chute. I bend forward again, feeling the heat of his body, smelling his sweat mixed with the odor of diesel. The rumble of the engine surrounds us.
"Like it?" I whisper in his ear. The trucker nods, his mouth still filled with his shirt. I can't tell whether he's saying words or just making noises.
All too soon I feel the sperm gather in my balls. I speed up my thrusts until I'm drilling into him. "Fuck man, I'm going to shoot," I manage to get out, just before I rush past the point of no return. A sound that is half growl, half wail escapes between my clenched teeth as I explode into the rubber buried in his butt. The trucker is yelling into his gag.
My body, a machine in overdrive, begins to slow down. My eyes open as I come back to something like consciousness. My right hand still grips the trucker's tool. It's warm and sticky-he's shot another load.
I pull back and out of his ass. The greasy condom balloons with white jizz. I reach for the paper towel roll with my clean hand, tear off a sheet and wipe my other hand as best I can, then draw the rubber off and wrap it in the soiled paper.
I look up. The trucker is watching me. He's pulled up his jeans and taken his shirt out of his mouth. It hangs open and wrinkled. His chest is good, tanned and hairy with large pink nipples.
"Man, you were horny," I say.
He smiles again. I'm struck by how sweet he looks, like a little boy, now that his needs are satisfied. "Sure was."
He nods. "Yep."
I'm getting dressed, still sweating like a pig. The air conditioning's going up full blast when I hit the road again.
"What's your name?" I ask as I tuck my shirt in.
"Where you headed, Hank?"
"Long way." I clap him on the shoulder. "Got to go. I'll get rid of this trash. Thanks, buddy."
I step through the curtains, climb over the seat, open the door and jump out. It's further than I expect and I hit the ground hard. Uninjured, I slam it shut and head back toward the rest rooms. I look back once. Hank's face is invisible, but I see his hand move in a friendly wave from the driver's seat.
A police cruiser is parked in one of the stalls. As I pass, the cop standing by his open door throws a suspicious glare, but we're finished and there's nothing he can do.
I walk back into the men's room and flush everything down the toilet. I wash up at the sink and look in the mirror. Everything's back in place, more or less. Whistling, I get in my car and start the engine. It's still a long drive to Lake Charles, but I think I can make it by dark.