Fucked at the truck stop

The trucker suddenly looked embarrassed and almost shy. I love it when
men let themselves be vulnerable, it turns me on.
“It’s okay, man,” I reassured him. “What is it?”
“Well,” he said, “you seem like a nice guy…”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been on the road for almost two weeks now, and my girlfriend back
home, well, she -“
“Stopped sleeping with you?” I finished. The guy looked very surprised
that I’d guessed right.

“Yeah,” he said, “I don’t know what her problem is.”
“So you haven’t been getting your rocks off.” I said.
“That’s true,” he said, “but there’s more to it.”
“What?” I asked. Suddenly the trucker looked angry, and pointed at me.

“If you ever tell anyone about this I’ll find you and kick your fucking
ass in the dirt, you understand?”
I put up my hands, laughing.

“Whoa!” I said. “Take it easy! Who would I tell? This is just between
us.”
“Okay,” he said. “The best part of sex for me, after coming, of course,
is the part after, when I got to hold her.”
He paused, as if waiting for me to say something, but I just looked at
him, listening.

“And tonight there’s no chicks around,” he continued, “and I was
wondering, since you’re probably a fag -“
“Gay.” I interrupted.
“What?”
“Not fag. Gay. Don’t say fag, especially if you want me to help you out
tonight.”

He looked surprised, but nodded and continued.
“I figured since you’re gay you might…” he trailed off.
“Might what?” I prompted him. “Say it. It’s cool to say it.”
“Let me hold you for a while,” the trucker finished without meeting my
eyes. “I’ve got a sleep compartment in my rig.”

I smiled at him.

“How about you get me off,” I said, “and then you can hold me all fucking
night.”
“Sounds good,” he said, “but I’ve got some buddies out there. How can I
get you to my truck without them knowing what we’re doin’?”
“Tell you what,” I said, “you take care of me, and I’ll take care of
that.”

I told him my idea for how to get me to his truck without arousing
suspicion from his friends outside, and he agreed it was a good plan.
Then the trucker took me into one of the bathroom stalls to fulfill his
part of the bargain.

Once we were inside the stall with the door closed, he grabbed me and
held me tightly, my back against his chest. His left arm was wrapped
around my middle, pressing me against him. His right hand grabbed my
crotch through my shorts and I jerked in surprise.

“What –?” I started to say, but the trucker clamped his left hand over
my mouth and I shut up instantly.

“Sshhhh…” he said softly in my ear. “Keep quiet, little gay boy. I
don’t want to share you with anyone else.” My cock flexed and stiffened
under his hand, and the trucker rubbed it through my shorts. Despite the
order to be quiet, I couldn’t prevent a little moan from escaping my lips,
“This is just what you need, isn’t it, gay boy?” he whispered. “You need
a real man to take care of you and get your rocks off, isn’t that right?”
I nodded my head and said “Yes sir” even though it was muffled by his
hand over my mouth. The trucker stuck his right hand down into my shorts
and grabbed my cock and balls in his fist and squeezed them.

“You need to get fucked, gay boy?” he asked as he started to jack my
dick. It was intense and wild, jerked off by a total stranger in a
restroom off the open highway in the middle of the night. I nodded my
head again. “If I take my hand off your mouth you gonna be quiet?”
“Yes sir!” I said into his hand, and he took it off my mouth, letting it
drop until it found my left nipple and pinched it hard. With his right
hand he continued to play with my cock, squeezing it and jerking it.
“I’m gonna take you back to my truck, gay boy,” he said, “and I’m gonna
fuck you long and hard.”

I nodded my head enthusiastically, remembering again his warning for
silence. It felt so fucking good to be in his power this way, to be his
prisoner. The heat in my balls was burning, and soon enough I couldn’t
hold back anymore.

I shuddered in the trucker’s arms and he aimed my dick into the toilet
bowl. My climax roared through me, and squirts of come shot out of my
cock.

“Yeah,” he said, “that’s it, gay boy, you need a real man to take care of
you, don’t you?”

I nodded again, even though I was dying to yell with the pleasure he was
causing me. He held me until I stopped quivering, then stuffed my cock
and balls back into my shorts. Then he opened the stall door and led me
out in the empty bathroom. When there was enough room to turn around, he
faced me with a grin on his unshaven face.

As we had agreed, he leaned down toward me and I let myself fall forward
over his shoulder. He grabbed onto my legs and lifted me up, hoisting me
like a sack of potatoes until he was standing straight up and had me slung
over his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked me.
“I’m good,” I said.
“Stay real limp so they believe you’re unconscious,” he told me.
“Yes sir,” I said, closing my eyes. The trucker carried me out of the
bathroom into the cool night air. He was strong – having a 160 pound man
over his shoulder didn’t slow him down a bit.

It felt good to be carried like that, with his arms holding my legs tight
so I wouldn’t fall. In some way it was – intimate, I guess. Even though
what we were doing was technically play-acting, it was still cool to be
carried by this sexy stud.

With my eyes shut I couldn’t see anything, of course, but I could hear
the sound of the trucker’s footsteps on the concrete, and the sound of
several men talking that got louder as we got closer to them.
“Hey, Jim!” one of the guys said, and we stopped. “What the hell is
this?” a second voice asked.

“Found him out cold in the bathroom,” my trucker said, whose name I
guessed was Jim.

“Got any money on him?” a third man asked.
“Fuck you,” Jim said, “I’m not a thief,”
“Want me to call the cops on my radio?” the first man said.
“No,” said my trucker, “I’m gonna let him sleep in my rig ’til he wakes
up. He might be on the run or something. I want to hear his story before
I call the cops.”

“He got a knife or anything on him? Might be a crazy fuckin’ drug
addict.”
“No,” Jim said, adjusting me on his shoulder. “He’s clean. I can handle
him, don’t worry.”

“Okay, man,” the second guy said. “You gonna catch some Zs yourself?”
“Maybe. I want to head out early.”
“Cool. Later then.”
The truckers exchanged good-byes, then Jim started walking again. After
a few steps he stopped, and I heard the sound of him fishing his keys out
of his pocket.

He unlocked and opened a door, then lugged me up and into what I figured
was his truck. It smelled like him, thick and male, with a trace of sweat
and something else that was probably beer. Jim walked a few short steps,
opened another door, then took me inside and set me down on a soft
surface. I was a little sorry that the carrying was over, but I knew what
was coming was going to be even better.

I heard Jim walk back and close and lock all the doors he’d brought me
through. Then he came back into the compartment he’d stashed me in and
snapped on a dim light.

“They bought it,” he said, “it’s cool, no one can see us.”
I opened my eyes.

The sleeping area of Jim’s truck wasn’t very big, and the “bed” itself
would be tight for two men, but it would be okay. There was more than
enough room for what we had in mind.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I asked, and Jim smirked.
“Well I sure as shit didn’t carry you all this way to talk about art,” he
said, and we both laughed. “Take your clothes off.”

I obeyed him and slipped out of my shorts and T-shirt and kicked my shoes
off. The trucker pulled his outer flannel shirt off to reveal two nice
pecs clearly showing through a thin undershirt, framed by suspenders. He
unlaced his boots and took them off, leaving his socks on. I lay on the
bed, naked, looking up at the rough stud who’d carried me like I weighed
no more than a bag of laundry.

Everything about him was exciting me.

The dust on his cheeks, the sweat stains on his undershirt from driving
all day, the way his cock and balls hung low in his briefs when he
unhooked his suspenders and let his dirty jeans fall and stepped out of
them.