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Truck driver gay sex

Truck driver gay sex

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. 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. 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. We just hired Frank, and he's new to long-distance trucking, but we figured that under your expert guidance he might work out. 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. 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. 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. 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.

We can come back here and call him. 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. That sounded like an interesting suggestion.

I began to mull it over. I turned to Frank. I'd rather stay faithful to my wife, but you go ahead. It wouldn't worry me a bit," he told me. 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.

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Truck driver gay sex

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. 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. 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. We just hired Frank, and he's new to long-distance trucking, but we figured that under your expert guidance he might work out.

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. 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. 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. 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. We can come back here and call him.

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.

That sounded like an interesting suggestion. I began to mull it over. I turned to Frank. I'd rather stay faithful to my wife, but you go ahead. It wouldn't worry me a bit," he told me. 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.

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5 Comments

  1. 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.

  2. 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 sure hoped life had something better in store for them than the endless interstate highways I was continuously traveling.

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

  4. The real estate agent told Frank the price, and Frank offered fifty thousand less. So my new road companion would now also be my almost next-door neighbor, but not just next-door, two houses down. And that's when I thought of the vacant house two doors down from us.

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