Forced Partnership

Another 100 miles before I could lay my weary head to sleep and I – I was going to be two hours past my logbook time.

The new wonder boy was going to be smirking again. The owner's nephew and heir apparent had started working for the company about 6 months ago. His first day he'd swaggered into the company with a superior attitude and immediately started making changes. Everyone knew the owner was trying to phase out of the day-to-day operations and turn most of the headaches over to his nephew. Most of the other senior drivers had tried to go along, but I'd been doing nothing but bumping heads with the little know it all from the start. A redhead, I'd been teased about my short fused temper in the past. Since Jimmy boy had started with the company, the teasing had turned into lectures.

One of the first things he'd tried implementing were additional driving teams. It had seemed my favorite transports were the ones he took the most exception too and that he was very passionate about partnering me with another driver. I had taken his attitude as a personal insult and old anti-social me; I had been hoping to hold onto a few solo transports anyway.

I'd been doing okay until today. The little shit had once again tried to force me to partner up for this transport. I had admitted to myself that the timing of this run had always been tight and I might have agreed – if there had been anyone else available but him! So I had ignored my better instincts and insisted I could pull it off. Our argument had almost come to blows, until the owner intervened.

The owner had backed me up – pointing out the transports I'd driven in the past for the two companies involved. The wonder boy had finally shown his true colors in front of his uncle and continued to harp on me about my solo driving. He had received an odd look from his uncle and was told sharply to 'give it a rest'. I'd stayed for the beginning of Jimmy boy's lecture, smirking at him from behind his uncle's back and watching the frustration fill his face. Waiving triumphantly, I'd finished my paperwork and sailed out the door.

If I hadn't been forced to fill in my log book before I reached the factory and if the factory had actually had the freight ready instead of making me wait for an hour and a half, I would have made it in my allotted time and been halfway back again before I would have had to stop. Now - three highway pile-ups later and I had had to radio in to the company dispatcher. Dispatch had only acknowledged the call without giving me any further instructions.

When I'd been delayed at the factory, I'd wondered if Jimmy boy might have deliberately called them and changed the pickup time. The foreman had calmly apologized for the wait, but the regular forklift drivers who loaded me had seemed surprised to see me. At twenty-minute intervals I'd tried to question the loaders about the delay - but each time the foreman had suddenly appeared and intercepted my queries. After waiting almost 90 minutes, I'd cornered one of the forklift drivers and started demanding some answers. The foreman interrupted by again apologizing and abruptly sending the driver off to get my load. When I'd finally pulled onto the highway, I'd been determined to track one of the warehouseman down on my own time and get some answers.

After the third highway accident, the answer for the factory delay had been obsolete. Although I'd like to blame Jimmy boy for the accidents, that would be buying into his attitude of being God.

Glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, I realized it was well after midnight. My drop off destination didn't reopen until 5am – leaving me almost 5 hours. As I wasn't going to be able to take an 8-hour rest stop and wasn't convinced that I had reached an end of these unbelievable unexpected delays, I had decided hours back to just keep driving. Problem was that if the weight stations and cops didn't catch me for driving past my maximum hour limit, all the caffeine I had consumed was going to kill me.

Deciding to give my shaking hands and gurgling stomach a rest, I radioed dispatch that I was stopping at the next exit. It was time to fuel up both my stomach and gas tanks. Maybe I'd shut down, crawl into the sleeper and close my eyes for a few hours.

After spending a precious twenty minutes in line for the tanks, it was finally my turn to gas up.

Pumping gas was not a fun thing for me; spilling gas on my hands, jeans and boots just highlighted a day in hell. Cursing, I ignored the chuckles from the grizzled veteran topping his tanks on my right and tried to wipe off most of the diesel with the rags at the pumps. I actually succeeded in smearing it around just that extra bit more where you really reeked instead of merely stank. No choice now – it was definitely shower time.

I had once been teased about holding all bodily fluids inside for twelve hours to avoid using public facilities. Showering inside a truck stop – no matter how clean - was going to add a nice bit of torture to an already excruciating day. On long hauls, I usually tried to rent a motel room to spend the night and clean up in, but as I could only use the room for a little over three hours…it just wasn't worth it. I'd take a shower now and sleep in the sleeper in the factory's parking lot after I arrived and then just head straight home.

Sighing, I gingerly climbed back into my rig and pulled to the back of the parking lot. I turned off all lights and shut down. Stretching wearily – I decided to go consume whatever recognizable food I could find while I waited my turn for the showers.

Reaching into the sleeper compartment for my duffel, I realized in disgust I'd pushed it in the far back. Grumbling about how sorry my grand standing had turned out, I pulled a sheet out to cover most of the bedding and climbed into the compartment. Distractedly I heard another rig pull up alongside mine and shut down. An awful premonition occurred to me.

I always parked in the most distant spot I could find and tonight there had been plenty of closer parking available. Almost reluctantly I stretched along the bedding and poked my head out the opening. My eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the glow of the interior lights in the lower semi parked next to mine. Sure enough - it was another of the company's rigs. I felt my blood pressure come to a boil when I recognized the ponytail of dirty blond hair and the muscular build of Mr. Cocky himself at the wheel. Just what were the chances that he had picked up another smaller run on this same highway after I'd left to pick up my delivery and he just happened to pull into this same rest stop at the same time?

I ducked back into the sleeper infuriated. My interior lights were off – so I knew he couldn't have seen me. Fine -if he wanted to play games and not have dispatch inform me to stop at a certain time or place so I could be met for a relief driver, then games he would have. He couldn't have known how long I'd been parked – so let him try to find me. The exit boasted one of the larger truck stops with numerous public facilities, two twenty-four hour restaurants, a small store, an arcade, a TV room and a small mechanic garage. I could also see within walking distance two 24hour stores – a large grocery and an even larger convenience store. I would dig out my clothes, eat the crackers and chocolate I had stored in the truck and wait for him to check out the truck stop. In the meantime I'd duck into the grocery, quickly grab whatever they had on hand and try to pop into the showering facilities without him seeing me. I'd grab a number and sit in the corner of the TV room. If I could get into the showers before he found me – I'd make sure I'd stay in there for at least an hour.

I relaxed back into the mattress. What was taking him so long to leave the truck? Was he waiting for me to come back?

I decided he couldn't see me in the darkened lot with my lights off and stuck my head back out of the sleeper. Peering into his interior, I saw his head leaned back on his thick non-existent neck with his eyes closed. Was he sleeping? He suddenly tipped his head forward and rubbed his large hand over the back of his neck. Dirty blond hair suddenly spilled forward over his shoulders. His arm muscle flexed and bulged under his T-shirt as he roughly combed his fingers through the loosened thick curly mass. The T-shirt was strained to the limit over his expanded chest. I'd always admitted to myself that what the little shit had lacked in height; he'd overcompensated for in pure bulked muscle. He dropped his hand back down his stomach and leaned his head back again. He was wriggling on the seat.

Edging further out, I was able to see lower down into his cab. He'd raised the bottom of his T-shirt and was rubbing his six-pack abs with one of his hands in a lazy circling motion. He leaned forward again, twisted sideways and pulled the T-shirt over his head. His back was now to me – displaying an impressive breadth of shoulders. I could see he was tan down to the waistband of his jeans. He twisted back and again stretched back in his seat. I watched him open a packet then pull out a tissue and rub it along his neck and shoulders and then down his arms. It left a slightly moist trail – making him glisten gold in the light. He raised first one arm then another and rubbed the light dusting of hair underneath each. Tossing the tissue aside he pulled out another and started massaging his huge hairless chest. The tissue looked tiny as he rubbed it along his pecks. He started a circling motion around his nipple. It had changed from a flat disc into a small hard nub before he finally stopped circling around it and rubbed the tissue repeatedly across it. He finally let the tissue fall and flicked his fingernails across the tight nipple.

My mouth dropped open when I realized his other hand was shoved down the front of his unzipped jeans. I watched in disbelief as he raised his hips off the seat and pealed his jeans down to his heavy thighs, leaving him sitting in white boxer briefs draped over a bulge running down one leg.

I glanced around the parking lot – our two rigs were the only ones in this section. I wondered if he was on a run after all and was stripping down to climb into his sleeper. Why didn't he dim his lights more? Reluctantly my eyes swung back to his interior. His hand was pressed on the top of the bulge delineated by his boxers. I watched him slowly press his hand from his groin down his thigh. I swore softly as I saw the 2 inch tip of what could only be his cock flex upwards at his slow stroke. He circled his hand around his cock head and squeezed firmly then stroked back up to his base. The front of his boxer briefs were now straining, trying to hold his raising penis down.

I felt my hands go sweaty and swallowed hard. In shock and horror, I realized he was exciting me. I felt my body tingling and responding as he continued his show. I forced my eyes away only to have them jerk back of their own accord. My body was rebelling – it had never been this turned on. Before this night, I had almost convinced myself that I was not typical – that I was just not interested in sex. Shuddering, I wondered if it would have been better if I had never known just how hot I could get – if HE was the right kind of stimulation.

He opened the front of his underwear and started fishing his cock out. When he couldn't get it to fit through the opening, he stretched his legs down further, lifted his hips and carefully worked his underwear down with his jeans. His penis was a work of art. It was short – barely 6 inches – but wide and perfectly straight. His balls were huge mounds barely dusted with hair. He wrapped his hand around his dick and slowly started stroking to his balls. He pulled on the sack and lazily stroked a finger down toward his ass.

I gasped and felt my own body clench as he pushed his finger into his hole. Determined to have some control, I still tried to deny my body's reactions to him. I wrapped my hands around the back of my seat. I refused to masturbate along with him even if I couldn't turn my eyes away.

With one finger penetrating his ass, he pressed his thumb around the base of his dick. His other hand curved around his cock and started a stroking motion. His hips and thighs started rocking and flexing gently, thrusting his dick into his hand and at the same time working his ass deeper onto his finger.

Panting, I felt my buttocks clench and release - demanding attention. That something, anything, be put in the empty hole. My body rocked deeper into the mattress - a mirror image of his thrusting motions. When he moved his hand and thrust a second finger into his ass, I whimpered in defeat. Without moving my eyes from his stroking hands and thrusting hips, I rose unto my knees and unsnapped my jeans. I started to push my hands down my pants when the smell hit me – I was still covered in diesel. My hands twisted around the duffel in frustration. I half sobbed as he finished in front of me.

Shaking, unable to look away from his hands and still hard cock, I watched him clean up with another tissue. After tossing the used tissue aside, he managed to pull his boxers back up. My eyes followed as his hand rubbed up his abdomen and chest. His hand lifted up and flapped outward – almost in a little wave.

Suddenly afraid to breath, I lifted my eyes up…and met his. He was still lounging back in all his near naked glory. His head was tipped back, nestled in a cloud of hair that framed the bright blue of his gleaming eyes. I froze, my eyes clinging to his, waiting for his reaction when he realized I'd been watching spellbound – unable to look away. I don't know how long it took me to realize that he had known I'd been there watching all along and that his show was actually intended for an audience.

I bolted. I don't remember how I got out of the truck or across the parking lot, but I suddenly found myself inside the truck stop. The duffel was still wrapped around my fist, so I headed straight for the showers.

One of the attendants barely stopped me from barging into an occupied shower.

"Rough night, huh?" she commiserated.

I had to clear my throat twice before I could get a sound out. "You have no idea." I agreed. "Look, I'm in kind of a hurry – do you have anything open?"

She grinned at me. "And you're running late, you're over time, you're covered in diesel and you're starved." She winked, reached behind the counter and got a key. "If it were anybody else…"

I heard the door crash open behind me and grabbed the key out of her hand. "You're a life saver!" I called over my shoulder and practically ran to the shower stalls.

"Hey!" I heard the attendant call out in protest. Then I heard a deeper toned mumble and her giggle.

I felt a tightness relax around my shoulders and slowed down. I'd made it. Now I'd have some time to think and try to work out how I should react when I saw him again. I found the right number and twisted the key in the lock. Opening the door, I suddenly felt a hand in the middle of my back pushing me forward. I jumped forward, swung around and tried to slam the door shut behind me. Too late. He came through the door, barely paused to kick it shut behind him, and kept on coming. I backpedaled till I was pressed up against the wall of the shower stall. He stopped with inches separating our bodies and looked up at me through lowered eyelashes. He was only 5'9 to my 5'10 and I should have loomed over him. The only problem was he was also 190lbs of solid weightlifting muscle and I just topped 145lbs.

"Sam, Sam," he tisked, shaking his head at me. "In such a hurry. Why I barely had time to clothe myself before you ran off." He leaned a shoulder lazily against the wall on the side – keeping me blocked in.

I tried to focus my eyes on the wall behind his shoulders. I couldn't meet his eyes and I couldn't look at his body without remembering it unclothed and hard. Adrenaline, embarrassment, confusion and above all - pure sexual need - pumped through my body. I had to distract him – I felt in shock and betrayed by my body's wanting him. I couldn't – didn't want him to know.

"I spilled diesel all over me. I need to shower." I desperately blurted out. I held myself still and clenched my hands into fists.

"But couldn't you have greeted me properly first – after all, I am your relief." He said. I could feel his eyes running up and down my tensed body. A slight smile touched his lips. "Or at least I could be." He finished.

When cornered I always responded with anger – and being a redhead - anger came easily. I could feel my confusion and embarrassment evaporating with the rush of anger through my bloodstream and gladly welcomed it. "My relief?" I repeated almost growling. "Are you? Funny I didn't hear that from dispatch. I also didn't know you'd be in this area. We both were at the office this morning, you would have had to be driving almost the same amount of time I was to get here – that means you don't have any time left on your logbook either. So Jimmy boy, just how are you my relief? And how did you get here so quickly?"

He was suddenly leaning into my body. I shrank further back into the wall and wedged my hands between us. I tried to push him off me – it was like trying to move a slab of rock. He stepped closer and suddenly my hands and arms were trapped between our bodies. A wall on one side, the shower at my back and his body in front – only one way out. Gasping for breath I tried to slip out the one side left open.

His hand wiggled behind my head and the wall – holding me immobile, twisting into my short jet-black hair. Furious, my eyes shot to his.

He was no longer smiling and his eyes glinted darkly. For some reason I felt a shiver work down my spine. I hated his smirking smiles – his know it all attitude, but I knew how to deal with them and how to react. Somehow, when I wasn't looking something had changed – I had no idea what was going on. The feelings I'd been trying to wash away with anger came flooding back. Even worse, now I could feel his body and his semi erection pressed into me. My body started throbbing harder - reminding me that it was very frustrated and he was both the cause and antidote.

"Now that's a couple of the things I've been meaning to speak with you about." He drawled thoughtfully.

I felt confused again. Could he read my thoughts – or were they just written across my face. "Get off." I managed to choke out.

He shook his head sadly. "I think that's another thing we're going to have to speak about. But not yet - let's start simple. We'll start with my name and age. You may call me James or Jim – no more Jimmy. Do you think you can handle that?" He murmured quietly.

I tried to take a couple of deep breaths to steady myself. When he felt my chest lifting, trying to inhale, he leaned into me even more. I suddenly understood he was trying to use sex to intimidate me. I was in shock – no one had ever tried that before. He was on the right track though - it was working. I was thoroughly intimidated – by my OWN sexuality. I felt so hot it was a miracle I didn't combust.

"Jim," he coaxed softly – he tipped my face even closer to his.

"Jim," I blurted. "Now back off – Jim." I managed.

"No – my name was only one issue – we have another to address," he reminded me softly. His breath wafted over my lips – I felt them almost brush against mine. "Yes -second thing," he reminded gently – almost to himself, "I'm not a boy – at 30 – I believe I'm entitled to be known as a man. And," he continued – somehow pulling me even closer to his body, "I know your birthday. You're only 3 years older – stop trying to lord the age difference over me."

I could feel myself shivering, shaking, my breath coming in panting gasps. I was hot, so hot – god – so hot. I couldn't understand him. I heard him talking but somehow my brain wouldn't function. All I could do was feel. Feel my body pressed into his, feel his hand massaging into my scalp, feel his lips brushing against my mouth, feel his warm moist breath wafting over my face, feel my body – throbbing – trembling - so excited…