Freaky Trucker 02: Dikmatized?

Wayne was one freaky, 61-year-old chub bottom trucker, who met who he thought was his "match."

"You truly are a little, whore slut. You take cock in your mouth, your ass, hell you'd take it in your ear if you could. You live for another man's cum."

That came from Johnny, this older, retired guy who I met online, then at a rest stop after he fucked my brains out.

Those words never rung more true when I first started out getting fucked. Surely, I started with women, for I was married and ended up having three children (now all grown, with their own families, I say proudly), but deep down inside I always wanted to be with another man, wanted to be penetrated to feel what a woman felt. Jesse, the guy who trained me during my first trucking job who turned out to be one of my closest friends, would know of this one night after a couple drinks, and being we both were on the road, lonely, and horny, he took me for my first ride.

"You really, really, have a tight ass, Wayne," he told me after fucking me for the first time.

I was 39, 15 years into my marriage with Della when it happened. I loved Della, and vice versa, but the urge to get pelted as I call it was too loud to ignore, and Jesse, an older, Mexican bear at 50, just looked and smelled too good to pass up. He, too, was married and played on the side, and the chance to be my "first" was something he couldn't pass up.

"I never thought fat guys had a chance in getting fucked," I told him.

He convinced me otherwise, breaking down why he liked fucking bottom chubs as he enjoyed the view of the waves in our asses when he was giving up that 11 inch cock (yes, I took almost a foot of cock my first time).

"I can admit, I like the innocence that comes with big guys due to the perception of being undesirable. Plus for some reason, when you're getting fucked good, you get so wet," he said.

It hurt like the first time, but then he gave it to me twice more and I knew from then on, I couldn't get enough cock inside me. He bred me each time and I fell in love with being creamed, with Jesse giving me enough nut to where my ass was leaking for six hours straight after. There was no turning back, even with Della (divorced three years later) as I found myself at times having sex with the wife, but envisioning me being the one fucked, or having my ass eaten.

"Thanks for ruining me, LOL," I texted Jesse when my divorce became final. "I'll be no good for any woman or man as far as being committed."

For years, I'd find all sorts of cock while on the road, letting guys in the truck, doing them in motels, or even on a couple occasions getting drilled and filled in showers at truck stops. I may visit one of my children, play with the grands while in town, and be on the phone messaging some guy who needed a blowjob, or needed a nice ass to fill. I was loving being a worthless slut, being a fat, bottom bitch to where monogamy just wasn't on the menu for any of the guys that "courted me." I was truck driving tramp flowing from state to state looking for my next cum fix.

Then Rip came along.

"Hey there sexy. What brings you to Bakersfield," he asked.

We were on a site for gay hookups that was strictly dedicated to fat guys, and those that love them. I had a load to deliver at a nearby distribution center from Texas, and I had time to burn, so I figured I would go online for "shopping."

"You looking right now," he asked.

"I am. Trying to see who's available this afternoon into the evening," I told him.

Rip was one gorgeous specimen at 36, for his stats noted six foot two, 220 lbs., black, and a top. His caramel brown skin, low faded haircut, and tight smile made me melt, but when he sent me a photo of his stocky meat stick (he was eight inches long, two inches thick), my ass twitched and mouth watered.

"I have never been with a black guy," I told him.

"Today can be your lucky day then. I can see in your photos you're a trucker. You wanna come over? Get a nice hot meal, nice shower, stretch out a bit," he asked.

"You just wanna stretch me out with that big cock of yours," I told him, trying to cut through the bullshit.

"I mean, that's part of the deal if you're down? Lemme show you the right way to pleasure some dick," he said.

I was parked just outside the distribution center, which wasn't exactly in the town when we talked. I let it be known I needed a shower and good cleanse, and he offered to pick me up and bring him back to his place.

"I live alone in this three bedroom home, I've two showers. You're more than welcome to come here, get comfortable, then get fucked and leave," he told me.

We exchanged phone numbers and I gave him the exact location via Google. Two hours later he pulled beside my tractor in a gold SUV, and we drove off to his place.

"Rip. Pleased to meet you," he said, extending his hand for a shake before he drove off.

Off the bat I saw where this was going as I noticed he was only wearing a t-shirt, with that fat, oiled up dick standing straight up, with now all my senses focused towards getting that pole of his into my body.

"Can I suck it," I remember asking.

He answered the question with his eyes and that smile, and I would move the middle console then lean over below the steering wheel to slob all over that beef stick. I got my mouth on that big, light brown, mushroom head, then wrapped my lips under that slender width under the tip, gently dripping it as I went lower with my mouth extending with the girth extended to his hairy base. I never sucked a cock so thick, as it complimented his beautiful, muscular body. All I could ponder was how he'd stretch me good once he got inside, so I slurped, slobbered, and gripped on that thing well while he drove.

"I could get used to this," he said to me, right before he blew out the back of my throat with his cum splashes.

We made it to the house, and not even 10 minutes later, he had me on my knees in the living room, still fully clothed yet sucking him off as he graced me with yet another one of his bitter, thick loads.

"Guess you don't want it in your ass, huh," he said to me after.

I did, but the way his cock felt on my lips, the way it tasted, I couldn't resist. We got settled at his place and ordered take out, eat and I'd shower and clean out before he nailed me in his king sized mattress.

"Damn. Never thought you could be so deep, and so flexible," he told me while pounding me.

He had my 61-year-old, 300 lb. chub bottom legs extended past my ears as he dug in deep, plowing my hole so hard, so good that he made me cum hands free as that cock head kept hitting the spot. The first time, he left me with a swollen, creamed gash, as never before had anyone fucked me like he did. The irony: It felt like it was more than sex, as we cuddled after and he made me feel so warm, so wanted beyond being a desirable slut.

"So you've got kids," he asked.

"Three. You," I asked.

"Two, but they're both in Kentucky," he said.

He spooned me under the covers that was filled with our scent, as we talked for a good bit, and actually got to know each other a little better. I was such in a mode that I fell asleep, and ended up being late to deliver my freight the next morning. I didn't care, as he woke me up by nibbling on my right ear and fingering me, then the next thing I knew I had my ass propped in the air with my face in a pillow, as he let that chisel in and out of me with such a force. I felt his toned thighs hitting mine, and that dick making all sorts of music as he hit the spot again and made my hole quiver out of control.

"Rip, baby, you're gonna make me cummmmmmmmm," I yelled, as he was tapping me from behind and jerking me off until my cock spit sperm all over his comforter.

This was much different than the meetups I'd been having. This was different for I truly enjoyed Rip, perhaps out of bed. When he finished thrashing me, filling me up with his babies, we kissed passionately, then we showered together before getting dressed and he bringing me to my rig.

"You gotta come back here before you leave town," he told me as he was driving me back to the truck.

"I won't get another load for 24 hours, so I'll be calling you again," I told him as we were parked beside the rig.

"I got a few more loads for you," he countered, and we chuckled, before he reached over the console to French kiss me.

"I can smell me on you," he told me, as I hadn't washed my mustache of his ball sack scent.

That gave me goosebumps in spite of my sore hole. We kissed once more, then I hopped out and into the truck to do what I got paid for.

This would be the start of something special.

To be continued.