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Thirty-Six Wheels


Nebraska to New York. Nebraska to New York. Nebraska to New York. I guess I've been driving that route for over fifteen years now. It was a long trip and it was a boring trip. Long hours at the wheel of my eighteen-wheel refrigerated trailer-truck, delivering meat from the heartland to the East Coast. I had a good steady job with Macon, Mitchell and Marlin, the big meat company, and I certainly wasn't complaining. But all those long lonely nights on the road, when I could have been home with my wife, Ethel, not that she was that exciting, but it was better than sleeping alone in the cab of my truck and looking at magazines.

I mean, I'm still a young guy, after all, and I have my desires.

Ethel and me, we got two kids, Floyd and Fergus who are in seventh and eighth grades, and are a couple of little snot-noses, so I don't really mind being away from them so much. I just don't have that much in common with the boys. Computer games. I never did that stuff. But of course, I really didn't want them following in the old man's footsteps and driving a truck across the country for the rest of their lives, so maybe it was good that they weren't like me, so that when they grew up they might be something more than just common laborers like their old man. I sure hoped life had something better in store for them than the endless interstate highways I was continuously traveling.

Of course, I wasn't entirely alone on the road. Macon, Mitchell and Marlin always sent out two full trailers at the same time. Old Wes Stober drove the other truck. We watched each other's back on the highways. If there were ever to be any kind of an accident, or if a cop stopped one of us for speeding, we had each other to turn to. We pulled into the same rest stops each night and had a couple of games of cribbage in Ed's cab, before I would go back to my own cab and turn in for the night. Of course I would read my magazines first. There were always these hookers cruising the truck-stops, looking for business, and I did have a hankering a little. And hell. I'm not gonna lie. I fucked a few of them here and there. I mean, I'm alone on the road and I gotta get my nut, right?

Then came the day that old Wes Stober announced that he was retiring. The company threw him a big farewell party, and gave him a gold wristwatch, and we had drinks down at company headquarters, but I felt kind of bad, because I had always had Wes to turn to. He had become like an old friend, and now there would be some complete stranger in the other truck. I wondered who I would be driving along-side of.

Three days later Art Addis, the general manager called me to come into his office, before my next trip. I went down to headquarters and up to Art's office. In the room was this slim good-looking dark-haired guy, about twenty-five.

"Kendall," he said to me, "I'd like to introduce you to your new road buddy, Frank Bell. We just hired Frank, and he's new to long-distance trucking, but we figured that under your expert guidance he might work out."

"Oh," I said. "I thought you were gonna pick one of the guys from the California route.?"

"No. No. We're not changing anyone's route, which they do so well. We figured we'd do a new hire, and Frank, here, seems like he might work out. He's driven shorter distances for smaller companies, and he really wants to become a Macon, Mitchell and Marlin man, because of all our great benefits. The health insurance, the retirement pension. Everything."

"Well, welcome, Frank," I said, shaking his hand. "Welcome to Macon, Mitchell and Marlin and to the Nebraska-New York route."

"Thanks, Kendall," he said to me, shaking my hand and even holding it a little, which I didn't pay no attention to really. "Art, here, has told me what a great driver you are, and that I'll be in real good hands with you."

"Yes, you will," I told him. "I'll teach you the rules of the road, all right."

"Great. I'm entirely in your hands," he said. He let go of my hand, and I studied him a little. He was good-looking all right. Almost pretty. Almost delicate. With eyelashes that were real long and curled upward. Not the kind of guy you usually would find behind the wheel of an eighteen-wheeler.

"Come on," I told him. "I'll buy you a couple of beers."

He followed me downtown in his car to the Whistle Tavern, where they served hard liquor to hard-nosed drivers.

We took a booth, and we kind of took to each other right away. We were sitting across from each other and nursing our beers and telling each other life stories. I told him all about Ethel and the kids, and he told me that he was newly married to Margaret, and they didn't have any kids yet, but wanted them. But at the moment what they needed most was a house. They had just moved to Nebraska from Wyoming, where there was not a lot of work, and they were renting a small apartment, but looking for a real house.

And that's when I thought of the vacant house two doors down from us. It had been on the market for over a year, now, and nobody had bought it, so maybe the price wouldn't be that bad. I told him about it.

The next day, he drove up with Margaret to our house, and parked his car in the driveway. I met Margaret, and the two of them met Ethel, who had just finished vacuuming the living room.

"Why don't we walk down and look at the house," I told him. "If you like the outside, there's a sign in the yard with the number of the real estate agent. We can come back here and call him."

"Great," he said.

They liked the house. Margaret thought it was darling, and Frank thought that the three bedrooms and two baths would give them room to grow. We called the real estate agent who drove right over and showed them the inside of the house, which they also liked. The real estate agent told Frank the price, and Frank offered fifty thousand less. The real estate agent came down a little. Frank went up a little. They finally agreed on a fair price.

So my new road companion would now also be my almost next-door neighbor, but not just next-door, two houses down.

Frank and I made a couple of runs together, and it was just great. I taught him how to play cribbage and everything, and he was beating me right away. Frank and Margaret moved into their house, but they didn't have much furniture yet, so they spent a lot of time at our place, and Ethel and Margaret were getting to be real good companions, just as Frank and I were.

A few trips later, we were parked in the truck-stop playing cribbage in the cab of my truck when I looked out the window, and there's this busty blonde out there, right outside my window, looking up at me. I turned back to the cribbage game, but she climbed up on the step and started tapping at my window. I rolled it down.

"You want company?" She asked me.

"I got company," I told her.

"Only twenty dollars," she said.

"For what?" I asked.

"A blowjob," she said.

That sounded like an interesting suggestion. I began to mull it over. I turned to Frank. "Frank, would you be very disappointed in me, if I were to get a blow job from this young woman?"

"Of course not, Kendall," he told me.

"Maybe I could treat you also to a blowjob."

"No. I'd rather stay faithful to my wife, but you go ahead. It wouldn't worry me a bit," he told me.

"You sure?" I asked again.

"Go ahead," he prodded me. "I want to see you enjoying yourself."

Was he going to stay and watch? Well, that was okay. I didn't mind if he watched the hooker give me a blowjob. I moved into the bunk behind the seats in my cab, and we let the girl in, who climbed into the bunk with me. I left the curtains open, because after all, Frank had said he wanted to see me enjoying myself.

I rolled up my shirt, and lowered my pants, and she just crouched over me and took my big dick into her mouth. She was a good cocksucker. I like blowjobs, and she knew how to give head all right, I was moaning a little, and calling her a slut and a whore and pushing my dick down her throat, and really getting off on the whole thing, with Frank watching and everything. She had to do what I wanted. After all, I was paying her good money.

"Yeee Haaahhh," I screamed as my juice jetted into her mouth, which I held down on my cock so that she would have to swallow it, and she did swallow most of it, but there was so much cum, that some of it dripped through her lips and ran down her chin. There was gooey white cum all over. I reached for a tissue and handed it to her, and she daintily wiped her lips.

It was then that I noticed that Frank was almost transfixed. He had this fixed glassy stare, which was centered on my diminishing member, and the drops of cum on my belly.

"Hey, Frank? You okay, man?" I asked him

"Sure," he said. "How was it?"

"It was great," I told him. "The little lady really knows how to suck cock. Maybe you wanna change your mind and let me treat you to a blow job?" I asked.

"Not tonight," he told me. "Maybe sometime though."

"Okay," I said, "Sure. Anytime you want." I hitched up my pants, and I paid the girl and let her out of the truck. I moved back into the driver's seat. "Should we finish our game?" I asked him.

"No. I think I'll head over to my own truck," he said. "I'm a little tired." He was acting a little strange. His voice was a little shaky, and his hands were trembling a little, and he seemed to be perspiring a little. I sure hoped I hadn't shocked him so much that he wouldn't even want to talk to me anymore. He was turning away from me, and trying to open the passenger side door, and I saw what the problem was. He was trying to hide his hard-on. Watching the hooker giving me a blowjob had turned him on, and he didn't want me to know he was hard. I didn't say anything. I didn't want to let him know what I knew and embarrass him.

It was obvious to me that he wanted sex, and I wanted him to have it. So on the next trip, while we were playing cribbage, I looked out the window and saw another hooker. I rolled down the window and called her over.

"You want company?" She asked me.

"Maybe," I told her. "You give good head?"

"They tell me," she told me.

"How much?" I asked.

"Thirty dollars," she told me.

"Twenty," I said.

"Okay," she said.

I opened the door and pulled her up. I moved back into the bunk dragging her behind me. Frank was sitting glassy-eyed in the front seat, watching it all, a cribbage peg still in his left hand.

I pulled up my shirt and lowered my pants and let her do her thing, and she was just about as good as the other one had been. So good. So good. That warm hot mouth on my big thick dick.

"Oh, Frank," I said. "This little lady sure knows how to suck cock. She gives one hell of a blowjob. Suck it bitch. That's it. Take that big dick down your throat." She made a little gagging noise as I forced it back into her throat and thrust my hips up. "Oh, yeah, bitch. That's it. That's it. Suck this big dick. Suck it. Suck it."

"GGHHHAAAHHH," she choked, as my semen flooded down her esophagus.

"Man. That was so great," I said. "This little lady really knows how to suck dick, Frank. You gotta get your dick sucked. Let old Kendall treat you to a blowjob."

"No. That's okay," he said, putting up a hand, but I raised myself up a little and looked, and I saw what I saw. He had a hard-on. I was not going to let him refuse my friendly offer.

"Come on, buddy," I told him. "I can see that you need it."

"You can?" he asked, and his face got all red.

"Yes," I said, "So let's trade places. I'll get back on the seat, and you climb up into the bunk and let her suck your cock."

"Well, okay," he grudgingly acceded. "But don't ever tell Margaret," he told me.

"What are you, crazy?" I asked him. "Tell Margaret? Why would I ever do that? And don't you ever say anything to Ethel, you hear."

"Of course not," he said, and realizing that we were in the same position, he climbed into the bunk. He started to raise his shirt and lower his pants, but I told him, "Why don't you just get comfortable and take your pants all the way off."

He nodded, and pulled off his shoes before getting all into the bunk. And then he stripped off his pants and underpants. He had a nice piece of equipment himself. Now I could watch him get a blowjob.

"Do my friend," I told the girl.

"That's another twenty," she said.

"Of course," I told her.

She started to work on Frank's cock and balls, and even lick the insides of his thighs, and he was shuddering all over. He was so sensitive.

"Take his cock all the way down," I instructed her. "Deep, deep throat."

She did. "SHHHWWWW," Frank was moaning, or something like that.

"Raise your legs, Frank. Let her lick under your balls," I told him. He raised his legs.

"Lick his ass," I told her.

"Just the cheeks," she said.

"The hole," I said.

"No. Not for twenty dollars, I won't do that."

"I'll give you an extra ten? Is that okay?"

"I guess so," she said.

"Turn over on your belly Frank and let her lick your asshole. I know you never had anybody lick your asshole. You're gonna go out of your fucking mind."

He turned over and presented his firm round bubbles to the hooker. And also to me. Now I was transfixed. I think I was just sitting there staring glassy-eyed as she tongued the little hole between those beautiful bouncy cheeks. I had just come, and I swear I was getting another hard on.

I made her lick his ass for another five minutes, because I didn't want him to turn over, I loved looking at his ass so much, but then he did turn over, and he shot into her mouth, and I paid her a healthy fifty dollars for a job well done. I let her out of the cab.

Frank was putting on his pants and shoes, and was getting ready to go back to his own truck.

"Did you enjoy that?" I asked him.

"It was fantastic," he told me. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure," I told him. "I like to see my good buddy having a good time. We'll do it again."

"Sure," he said. And then he got out and went back to his own truck. I climbed into my bunk and got undressed, but I didn't read my magazines. I closed my eyes and pictured Frank's beautiful round ass, as I jerked another load out of my balls.

Over the next several trips, we had assorted hookers give us head. Some were good. Some not so good. The luck of the draw. But I always made them lick Frank's little round pink asshole. I think I was in love with that asshole. I couldn't get enough of looking at it. And every time I pictured it in my mind, I would get a hard-on. Fuck. The truth is I was in love with Frank Bell's pretty ass. I wanted to fuck it. I would certainly have to keep that thought to myself.

Before you know it, a year had gone by, and Frank and Margaret had gotten some furniture for their house, and also Margaret was pregnant, so they were both real happy, as was Ethel. Ethel probably would have wanted more kids, if I hadn't put my foot down. Floyd and Fergus were quite enough, thank you.

We kept making our hauls, and time passed, and the baby was born, little Angie, and Ethel and I became god-parents. And it was great having Frank and Margaret down the street, but now what I looked forward to were the long hauls. Nebraska to New York. Nebraska to New York. Nebraska to New York. Frank and me driving the highways one behind the other, and then having dinner in a diner together, and then parking for the night in the truck stop, and sometimes playing cribbage, and sometimes we hired a hooker. We were so comfortable together now. I looked forward to the long drives now. I had a good buddy.

One night an awful thing happened, just before we were about to pull into a truck stop for the night. Some stupid car pulled right in front of Frank, and he had to jam on his brakes, and his trailer skidded clear horizontal across the road, and thank god there were no cars coming in the opposite direction because there would have been a complete pile-up. I eased my truck to a stop, behind Frank, and got out and held a lantern in the road to warn any cars behind me, while Frank was straightening out his trailer. Finally he got everything facing forward again, and we started down the road. Right after that we pulled into the truck stop and parked side by side. I got out of my cab, and jumped up onto his, opening the door on the passenger side.

"You okay, buddy?" I asked him.

And then he just totally broke down. He started crying and sobbing.

"I could have had a wreck. I could have killed people. I could have been killed myself."

"Ssshhh. Sssshhh. It's okay," I told him. "These things happen."

I put my arms around him and held him against me. His head was pressed against my chest and he was still sobbing.

"Sssshhh. Sssshhh. It's okay. Nothing happened." And I realized I was stroking his back and caressing him. And I guess it was at that point that I admitted to myself what I had probably subconsciously already known. I was in love with Frank Bell. I loved this slim pretty man with the delicate face and the pretty, round, firm, bouncy butt cheeks.

"Come on. We'll go get some dinner," I told him. "You'll feel better after you get some hot soup into your stomach."

"Okay," he said. "And Kendall......."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Just thanks," he said. "Just thanks for being here for me. I appreciate it."

"We're buddies, right?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, and that settled the question. We walked down to the diner at the end of the lot and had some dinner. As we were walking back to the trucks, the hookers were getting thick around us, getting ready for business in the night.

"Can I treat you to a hooker?" I asked him.

"No," he said. "Not tonight. I'm not in the mood."

"You want to sack out? It's early."

"No. I don't want to go to sleep yet. I don't want to be alone. I want to stay with you for a while, if that's okay."

"Sure," I said, and we climbed into my cab and sat side by side on the front seat.

"Do you want to play some cribbage?" I asked him.

"No. I don't want to play cribbage, but I don't want to go to my own truck and be alone right now, if you don't mind."

"Hell. I don't mind," I said. "But listen. It's not so comfortable sitting in these seats. We've been sitting in these seats all day. I'd like to lie down a little and relax. Why don't you come up into the bunk with me, and we can just relax?"

"Sounds like a good idea," he told me. We both took off our shoes and climbed into the tight bunk. I put my magazines under the pillow. It was very cramped, and keeping our arms along our sides was not a good option, so I told him to raise up a little, and I put an arm under his shoulders, and kind of held him.

And then a couple of seconds later, we had shifted and we were facing each other, and his arm was around my back too, and I looked into his eyes with those long lashes, and before I knew what I was doing I was doing a crazy thing. I was kissing him. I had him totally gathered in my arms and I was kissing him. And he was kissing me back. Passionately. He opened his mouth so that my tongue could explore, and then he licked my tongue with his own. Now his eyes were shut. He was just kissing. Totally concentrated on kissing. Our bodies were pressed together. Our hard pricks were pressed together. I surrendered to emotions I had never felt before. A love and a longing I had never before known, and here I was a married man nearing forty.

I didn't know what to say in this awkward situation, so I just kept kissing him, and I was so conscious of his body rubbing against mine. As we were kissing, I felt his hand close around the prick which was still inside my pants.

"You're hard," he observed.

I reached down and felt him. "So are you," I said.

"Yeah," he answered, and then each of our mouths devoured the other's again. I had taken my hand off his dick to press his face into mine, but he was still holding mine through my pants and stroking it as best he could.

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