Queen Of The Road

Queen of the Road

She likes it rough, which bothers me a little, because I prefer slow, smoldering sex, but I try to give her what she wants as often as possible.  I also suspect she likes it from as many as she can get, but that is just my suspicion.  I am a trucker, so I am on the road a lot, so she has many opportunities.  

I probably shouldn't have, but I put the app on her phone that let me know her location when I was out in my work as a long-haul trucker, and when I saw she was spending a lot of time at the casino I knew she didn't have money enough to gamble, unless-of course-she was winning a lot.  Knowing she was at the casino did a funny thing to me, it started me thinking about her doing sexy things in a room at the gaming club, and instead of pissing me off it got me passing a lot of time on the road thinking about her getting rough sex under a guy I didn't know and who liked doing it rough.

I have never been a guy to get a charge out of thinking about sharing her sexual pursuits, but I was truly getting turned on by thinking of her fucking other dudes.  It all started when I found a pair of socks I didn't recognize in the laundry.   To be honest, after that, I spent a lot of time in truck stops beating off in my sleeper to thoughts of her getting rough sex from a dude with another address. 

It got so on the road I was constantly thinking about what she'd be doing in a hotel room in that casino resort by the river.  I pictured her getting vigorously banged from behind while she knelt on her hands and knees, just like she likes.  

On one of my jobs the truck broke down just fifty miles from home, so I left the truck to be serviced and caught a ride home with Charley, who drives for Western.  When I got in, her car was gone and it was almost ten before she drove up.  

"Where the fuck you been?" I said, way more harsh than I should have or intended.  She turned to me, put her hands on her hips, and gave me a look that had kill written all over it.  "I have just been worried," I said, a lot calmer.

"You've been worried nobody was going to be here to make you a meal and ride your dick," she said in a voice I had never heard before.  "You think while you are out on the road I am sitting here on my couch crocheting doilies."

"What the fuck are a doilies?" I said. 

"Whatever," she said.  "I am young.  I want to have a life.  You drive, and I sit home and wait for you to drive back in the yard?  No way," she said. 

"So what do you do there at the casino?" I said, sounding stupid even to myself. 

"I have a knitting group," she said about as sarcastic as a woman can be.   "We drink tea and knit, dumbass.  What do you think people do at a casino?" she nearly yelled.

"They have rooms there," I said, staying on the dumb shit course.

"No shit?  They really have rooms at a hotel?  Well, I'll be fucked.  I never knew," she said, keeping the sarcasm at a high level.  "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know a fucking thing," she snarled. 

"Okay, I deserved that," I said trying for some redemption.  "I know I don't have any right to tell you what you can and cannot do, we aren't even married, but I just want to say you can trust me to do all I can to make you happy.  I know with my work you get left behind a lot.  I understand that cannot be a load of laughs.  I really do love you, and I don't want to fight."

"I don't want that either," she said easing up a bit on the bitterness.  "I do enjoy my time at the casino," she said without saying what she did there.

"You want to hear something funny," I said.  She gave me a what-could-be-funny-right-now look and shrugged.  "I been imagining you having affairs and I have been getting turned on by the thought of it," I said when maybe I should have kept quiet.  

"Say what?" she replied incredulous.

"When I found a pair of men's socks I didn't recognize I got paranoid.  Could have been mine, I just don't know," I said.  She got really quiet.  

"Those weren't yours," she said quietly.  I wan't sure I had heard right and I turned around and faced her.  She paused, then said, "Those nights you were gone were long.  I was, well, lonely."

"Lonely?" I repeated.

"And I wasn't always, well, good," she said.   "You have said there is nothing worse than being lonely, right?  Well, I was lonely.  It was rough being here alone those nights."

"But you like it rough," I said, trying to lighten things up.

"I do yes," she said.  "But rough not lonely.  It's not fun to be alone so much.  You said you were fantasizing about me being with someone else?"  I nodded.  "Well, you don't have to pretend anymore," she said.

"So, we'll, you mean you had someone over?" I said.

"Not quite," she said.  "I went to the casino.  I met them there.  You know, in those rooms they have at the hotels." She was quiet for a long spell.  "So you able to forgive and... "

"Forget?" I said.  "I don't have to forget," I replied.  "I should not leave you alone so much.  Why don't you go to driver's school.  Take the test.  Team with me in the truck? Maybe you'd like the road," I said.  

"I'd love it," she said.  

She signed up for the school, attended the classes, took the driver's test, the written test, and passed them all.  Our first trip together was to Pennsylvania.  We made love in the sleeper, and she wasn't lonely.  We even talked about her times at the casino, and she told me as I drove, or she did, about what went on in those hotel rooms.

It helped pass the time on the road and I listened attentively as she told me about each of her sexual adventures.  She seemed to get into it and began to enjoy telling me about it.  It was even better than I anticipated, hearing her tell me about sex with others.  

"What if we invited someone for you right here in the truck?" I asked.  Company rules were definitely against it, but the monitor camera was in the cab, so someone coming in on the passenger side and going right into the sleeper would not appear on the monitor.   If our "guest" came in when the truck was parked they would be able to do whatever they wanted in the sleeper without being detected.  That is what truckers do when they bring in a prostitute on their trips.  

There is a secret language used on the two-way radio that communicates sexual messages between truckers.  I contacted a couple of drivers to see if they were interested.  Of course they were.  A few of them had met Claire and of course they were interested.  A horny trucker with 50,000 celibate miles in the cab of a long-haul rig would certainly be interested in a far from homely woman with sex on her mind in the sleeper of a eighteen wheeler.  

"You got my interest, come on," replied Westley in a rig near Omaha.  

"Where you at, Robber," said Carson near Las Vegas.  "Definitely interested, come on."

"On forty," said Tom near Phoenix.  "Love to meet up," he said.  "Come on."

Knowing Tom and remembering him meeting Claire, I told him we'd meet him in Glendale, Arizona, off US 40 at the truck stop just off the freeway.  Claire remembered him and was excited about the prospects of meeting up and perhaps doing some sleeper sex behind the cab in our truck.   

He texted a picture of himself to remind her and she was impressed and remembered him.  He was about thirty, dark hair, with a quarterback smile and pale blue eyes.  "He like it rough?" she asked.

"Don't know, babe, but we can find out," I said.  

"Girlfriend likes rough stuff," I said on the radio.  "You game, come on?" 

"Rough is my middle name," he answered.  "Rough but loving."  I asked how he could do both.  "I fuck hard but I kiss 'em tenderly," he said.  Claire grinned as she listened.  I could see her smile broaden after I showed her his text.  

"He's cute," she said.  "How far is the Glendale truck stop?" she asked.

"Ten miles," I said pointing at the mileage sign on the side of the road.   In seven minutes we began to slow for the turn off.  At exit 56 we pulled off and then turned into the truck stop off the exit.  There was Tom's Peter Built sitting at the far end of the parking area.  I pulled next to him and blasted the horn.   He returned my horn with a blast of his own.

It was six in the evening.  I figured we'd go to dinner, let them get acquainted, then head back to the sleeper maybe after a shower.  Claire always likes to shower before sex.    

Tom climbed out of his rig and walked over to our truck.  Claire climbed out on the passenger side and came around the front to meet Tom.  I climbed down and introduced them.  "Tom, this is Claire.  You remember?" He shook his head.  I didn't see the sense in saying 'my girlfriend, Claire,' because he already knew that.  

They grinned at one another and I could clearly see an interest in each of their smiles.   Tom had lust in his and Claire's neck was flush from her arousal already.  I also had a spark of interest from just thinking about what might go on in the back of our truck.

"Since I am an independent, there is no camera in my rig.  I don't need to worry about being spied on and disciplined by the company for what goes on in the back of my truck," he said.  Besides, he has a much nicer sleeper than we do, I thought.  Tom's is like a luxury motor home back there compared to ours.  We just had a big bed all the way across the back.  He had like a house trailer back there with cabinets and everything.

"Good idea," I said. 

We went into the truck stop to Johnny Rocket and ordered burgers, fries, and shakes.  We chatted like folks going to a football game instead of an orgy and we all showered in the facilities provided by the truck stop after we ate.   

Claire dressed in her sexiest short dress with no undies and less inhibitions.  She was positively radiant as as sexy as a $1000 whore in Vegas.  She simply had my voyeur juices flowing.  I couldn't believe how excited I was to get to be able to see my mate get royally fucked by a trucker who had a great setup and big plans.  I didn't know what else he had that was big, but her hopes were high and her dress was short.  

When we climbed into the back of his truck, she went ahead of us and showed him a great view of her bare assets.  He looked back at me as if to say, "Holy shit, man, that is some fine ass." 

She wasted no time lifting her dress over her head and getting naked in the wink of an eye, and Tom he ran her a close second by stripping out his clothes faster than a speeding bullet.   I sat on the foldout seat in the sleeper and got comfortable.  

Claire got on her hands and knees and offered him her upturned bottom and he took his position.  Then in one quick push, he thrust himself into her without even a 'thank you, ma'am.'  His hands roamed her ass and back like a sculptor with a block of clay, and he closed his eyes as he pumped her from behind.  One thing she liked he slapped her ass with one hand as the other explored her back and bottom.  She grunted each time he hit bottom and he began fucking her so fast he was almost a blur.   My little lady was being fucked royally and I was loving the show.  Him slapping her made her happy, although it was hard for me to do that because it was so not in my nature.  

They went like that for another twenty minutes until he blew his wad in her and she came at just about the same time, screaming "Oh god" as loud as she could.  I was sure other truckers could hear the fucking going on in the back of Tom's truck.   If anyone saw us go in there, they would surely know Tom was fucking some lucky girl in his sleeper.  

They went right from one thing to another as she mounted him in a cowgirl and bounced over his body like a bronco rider at a rodeo.   She held herself up with a hand on each of his hips and she threw her head back and stiffened as she came in a hail of swear words and curses.  

I had watched them fuck for an hour, and then I watched them sleep.  I dozed myself, but woke up when I heard a pounding on the truck.  I slipped into the cab and opened the passenger door.  A policeman stood below me and said we've had complaints about screams coming from this truck.  

"Sorry, Officer.  My wife has just been enjoying herself a little too loud," I said.  

"Well, why don't you have the queen of the road tone it down a little," he said with a smile.  I wondered what he'd say if I told him the queen was fucking someone else.  That is how she got the name Queen of the Road, and she has been with Tom a number of times and a handful of other truckers across the country since we have been teaming on the highways across the country.