textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/trucker.txt

                      THE TRUCKER AND THE BIKERS
                      --------------------------
 
               Uploaded to Pink Triangle by Simon Jones
 
 
    I'd just  gotten out of college and wanted to bum around the coun-
try for  a while  before I  settled down  to work;  my parents weren't
pleased, but  as I'd been independent of them for some time now, there
wasn't much  they could do about it. I set out hitchhiking along, get-
ting most  of my  rides from  truckers ...  and paying  for them  with
blowjobs, or occasionally with the more open men, a fast hot fuck in a
sleeper cab, or occasionally in the shadow of the truck.
 
    The one  thing that did kind of bother me was that the sex usually
meant the  end of the ride, since even the truckers who were open when
they were  horny couldn't look me in the eye after I'd gotten them off
.. especially  if they'd  gotten ME off. So, I was hanging out in the
truckstop where  my last ride had left me; if I bothered to pay atten-
tion, I  could still  taste his  creamy, sweet  load in the back of my
throat. So  I sat there, cruising the truckers, trying to find one at-
tractive enough  that I  might actually enjoy going down on him for my
ride. I  finally gave  up and decided to try my luck near the entrance
to the  freeway. I  was hardly  out the door when I heard "Hey, need a
ride?"
 
    "Sure do. You headed east?"
 
    "That I am. Haulin' all the way to DC, in fact."
 
    "Perfect!" I said as I swung on up; DC was my first destination on
the East Coast. If I got lucky and this trucker didn't want to dump me
after a hundred miles or so, I might get all the way there in one long
boost. I  hadn't been  able to  see the  guy, but since it was getting
late, I  realized I  couldn't be  *too* choosy. Fortunately, Lady Luck
smiled on  me at that point. What filled my eyes at that point was the
kind of  trucker that  most men  dream of  when they  jerk off  to hot
trucker fantasies.  Thick, neatly trimmed beard with a big overhanging
moustache, and  a bare chest carpeted thickly in curly fur. Worn boots
and a  pair of well-worn and slightly grimy 501's, which showed a nice
big lump in his crotch.
 
    What filled  my nose  was the  warm, sweet musk of a sweaty man; I
could see  the little jewel drops of sweat in his beard and chest fur,
and the  little rivulets  down his  side from his furry armpits. "Hope
you don't  mind me  sweatin' like  this, but this ol' rig doesn't have
airco."
 
    "Doesn't bother  me a bit; anyone who gets freaked out over a lit-
tle honest sweat seems kinda weird to me."
 
    "Well, alright!  What's yer  name and  how far  are you goin'? I'm
Jon."
 
    "I'm Dave,  and as  a matter of fact, my target's DC; if you don't
mind having  me around  that long,  it would really help if I can ride
all the way in with you."
 
    "I've got  no problem  with that; in fact it would be nice to have
some company on the drive. One of the reasons I pick up hitchers is to
have someone  to talk to." I noted the bit about "one reason" quickly.
He continued  "But, it  looks to  me like you might have some problems
with the trip."
 
    "What do  you mean?"  He grinned. "That big fuckin' hardon you got
in your  pants the  minute you saw me; somehow I doubt we'll get to DC
without you  wanting to  play with  me; and bro, that's just fine with
me!" His  big hand  slid across the seat to squeeze my leg, then trav-
elled up my leg to rub my dick. "Damn, that's as big as it looks. Hope
you weren't plannin' on porkin' my butt, cause I don't swing that way.
But I do love fuckin' ass, and I don't mind suckin' you off after."
 
    "Sounds like heaven to me. I love getting plowed in a sleeper by a
hot truckerstud ... the sex is one reason I'm travelling this way. "We
looked at each other and smiled.
 
    "Shit, I've  got to piss ... the damn coffee at that truckstop has
gone right through me."
 
    "No need to stop; I can take care of that for you."
 
    He gave me a half-knowing, half-surprised grin. "You do that??"
 
    By way  of response I started popping the buttons of his fly open,
and extracted his meat. Even soft, it was thick and long, with a heavy
foreskin and  the smell of fresh headcheese about it. I rested my head
in his  warm lap and placed just the head gently between my lips. "Ohh
fuck, you  are serious  ... well,  if that's your scene. Here it comes
.. "I suspected this wasn't the first time he'd had someone drink his
piss while  he drove, since he kept up a strong and steady but reason-
able flow; I was easily able to drink it all down without spilling any
into his  seat or onto his pants. He finished, and I neatly tucked him
back in  his pants,  and fastened  enough of the buttons for him to be
"decent" when he got out.
 
    "Thanks, buddy" he said with a grin. "I think we're gonna have one
hell of a nice trip to DC!"
 
    His prediction  was 100%  accurate; from  the fuss I made over his
sweaty bod,  he clearly figured out that I was into raunch, and so the
entire time  I was  with him,  he never bathed; why should he, when he
had my  tongue available to clean him up instead? That cock I had seen
soft turned into a nine inch and *thick* ass rammer when he got turned
on ...  and the  easiest way  to turn  him on and get him horny beyond
words was to settle his sweaty ass crack onto my bearded face and give
his puckerhole  a long,  wet and deep tongue lashing. When he could no
longer stand  it, he'd  throw me onto my hands and knees, dive between
my buns  with his tongue to open me up, then ram that tool home in one
hard thrust.
 
    It did hurt the first couple of times, but considering that he was
fucking me  at least  three times  a day  (right before  each meal), I
rapidly got used to the size of his dick and the energy of his attack.
I ALSO  got an  ass full of his hot truckercum that tended to leak out
and run  down the  back of my legs ... but I rather enjoyed the sensa-
tion. True  to his  word, after every fuck he'd ask if I needed to get
off. If I did, he'd dive down my sweaty bod to my dick, and start rub-
bing it through his beard; it looked rather bristly, but it turned out
to have an unearthy satiny plush feeling that drove me wild.
 
    He wasn't  the greatest  cocksucker in the world, but after a good
long tease with that beautiful beard, all it took was the sensation of
a wet  mouth and  tongue on my dickhead for me to pump his mouthful of
my cream. He'd bring it up to my face in his mouth, and slowly pass it
to me  as we  kissed, and  I'd drink  it down except for the very last
gulp, which he would swallow himself. At least that was the basic pat-
tern, to which got added all sorts of little embellishments, what with
me cleaning  out under  his foreskin  with my tongue, and occasionally
getting him to fuck my throat instead of my ass.
 
    His beautiful,  well-muscled and  well-furred body  writhed at the
touch of  my tongue  in his armpits, behind his ears, around his balls
and in his ass. And of course, there was the fact that he never had to
stop to  pee, which improved the time he made and left us more time to
fuck. In a way, I was dreading getting to DC; I hadn't asked him about
his background  or what  he'd be  doing after  he unloaded in DC. More
likely than not, we'd have to part company there, and I didn't know if
he'd want to stay in touch.
 
    I was  enjoying myself - and him - too much to just let him "drive
into the  sunset" without at least trying to stay in some kind of con-
tact. I  was planning  on bringing  up the  subject of  the end of our
journey the  next morning,  after he  fucked me,  since he was usually
rather cuddly  and playful at that point, and I figured would take the
question best  then. We'd  had dinner - and a fuck - several hours be-
fore, but  he decided  that he  was horny again and wanted to fuck yet
again before we went to sleep. I needed to piss, so he wandered off to
stretch his  legs while  I was  busy in  the can.  I had noticed a big
batch of  Harleys at the entrance end of the RA, but since most of the
bikers -  even of the "outlaw" persuasion - that I knew were cool peo-
ple who  simply wanted to be left alone to pursue their own lifestyle,
I didn't  think to  warn him. When I came out, I saw him surrounded by
leather-clad bikers  near one  of  the  more  elaborately  tricked-out
Hawgs.
 
    I knew  even before  I hustled over what the problem was; I'd for-
gotten to tell my trucker that where a biker's ride is concerned, it's
strictly "look  but don't touch" without permission. One thing I noted
quickly was  that there  were no  women with  the bikers; if they were
straight, that  would be so rare as to be totally unheard of, so I was
betting they  were a  gay club;  when I  got close enough to see their
colours, I was sure of it. I slipped through the press of leather-clad
bodies so I was standing behind Jon. "What's the problem?" The biggest
biker of the lot looked me up and down a bit and said "Your buddy here
was messin' with my ride. I don't LIKE that."
 
    "Jon, what did you do?"
 
    He looked rather frightened and defiant all at the same time. "All
I did  was have  my hand  on the  seat for balance when I bent down to
look at the engine."
 
    "That's enough,"  I sighed.  "If you're interested enough in bikes
to be  curious about  the engine, how did you manage to avoid learning
that you  don't so  much as  touch someone else's ride without permis-
sion?"
 
    "Huh? I've  never seen  big custom  bikes like  this before, and I
wanted a better look. I didn't mean any harm!"
 
    "Don't make  no difference;  you was  messin' with my ride ... but
I'll tell  ya what.  Since you  say you didn't know the rule, and your
buddy here talks like a brother..."
 
    "Road Rats  MC, Los  Angeles" (only  an associate  member, but  HE
didn't need  to know  that...)" ... we'll let you off easy." I noticed
most of  the club  start to  grin, and  a number started rubbing their
crotches; the  dude who's  bike Jon had touched (whose name patch bore
the name  "Poke") started  to get  a very  obvious -  and very LARGE -
hardon down  his greasy  left pants  leg. "What  does THAT mean??" Jon
whispered to me. "Given the indications, probably a good old-fashioned
biker gang fuck." At that, Poke grinned at me and nodded. "These dudes
look horny, not vicious."
 
    "But I  told you  when we  met! I  don't get fucked, and this Poke
dude looks like he's hung like an elephant - he'd kill me!"
 
    "Naw, I'll  be careful, and I'll let all the other bros take their
turns first  to get  ya opened up good." Poke stood there grinning and
rubbing the still-lengthening shaft pushing down the leg of his 501's.
Jon looked  at me  with a  certain amount  of desperation  in his eye,
which was  suddenly replaced  with relief.  I nodded  at him to go on.
"Shit ...  wait a minute. My buddy here, he LIKES gettin' fucked; I've
been puttin'  it to him three, four times a day. What say you take him
instead?"
 
    "Can't take  a bro in exchange unless he agrees to it. You willing
to take  on this whole fuckin' club to save your pal's virgin butt?" I
looked around  and thought  for a moment. I was surrounded by some in-
credibly hot  examples of  sleazy bikerdom;  to a  man they  were long
haired and  bearded, leathered  and dirty. "Yeah, I'll take his place,
and gladly.  But I  want him  there with me, so he knows what he would
have gotten."
 
    "Agreed! Let's  haul it  back to the clubhouse." Jon locked up the
rig, and  we mounted up behind two of the bikers. A surprisingly short
time later,  we pulled  up in  front of their clubhouse. A garage door
was opened, and all the bikes roared inside; the door was shut. With a
blur of  greasy hands,  my shirt  was ripped off, my pants shoved down
around my  ankles, and I was thrown over a partially disassembled bike
in a  brace, and  lashed down.  "Two reasons  for that bike; one, it's
braced so  the hard thumpin' you're gonna get don't knock it over, and
two, we don't want ya gettin' any burns from a hot engine. Now, we got
all kinds of good shit on hand; you want somethin' to fuckya up durin'
this??"
 
    "No, man; just give me a full inhaler of amyl and I'll be fine."
 
    "You got  it dude,  but if  you change  your mind, just ask ... if
your mouth ain't full!" By this time, all the bikers had either doffed
their greasy  pants, or  at least pulled their cocks and balls out the
fly. As  one of  the younger  bikers with  a short-trimmed black beard
moved in  behind me,  they put  Jon on his back underneath me, so he'd
have a  perfect view of all the cocks that would be going up my ass. I
was surprised  as all hell when instead of feeling a hard cock ramming
up my  ass (after all, Jon had bragged about putting it to me so often
he didn't  need lube  any more), I felt a long, hot tongue snake up my
hole, accompanied  with the  sensation  of  a  bristly  beard  rubbing
against my  buns and  the back  of my  balls. I  was already hard just
thinking about  the prospects,  but that  started my  cock dripping. I
could see  that the  bikers had  positioned Jon  well; the drops of my
precum were  hitting him  right on  the chin. So smoothly I hardly no-
ticed it  at first, the tongue was replaced by the young biker's cock;
as he  started thrusting,  I let out a low moan of pleasure. "Hey bro,
how'd the fuckers butt taste?"
 
    "REAL good;  that trucker's got real sweet, tasty cum, and there's
a hell of a lot of it in there!"
 
    "There'll be  even more  when we're done!" The fuckstrokes rapidly
became fast  and hard,  and I  felt the warmth as the biker's cum shot
into my  ass. Another  cock replaced  the first  man's, picking up the
fast, hard  rhythm hardly  missing a stroke. It didn't take me long to
figure out  I was  getting "grudge  fucked"; very little consideration
for my  comfort, if  any; just  being used as a convenient hole to get
off in.  The only  reason I was taking it as well as I was was all the
practice I'd  had recently.  Jon was  right after  all - he would have
wound up  getting his  butt ripped  up by  these guys. My mouth wasn't
idle for  long; it soon acquired the jobs of cleaning out cheesy fore-
skins, rimming  out dirty,  sweaty assholes, sucking clean a long line
of funky  armpits, and  grooming sweat-matted  beards - not to mention
drinking bladderfuls  of hot  beer piss. After about two thirds of the
bikers had plowed my butt, there was so much cum in my ass that when a
biker finished  his fuck,  he'd come  around front for me to clean off
the cum  that the  pounding of his fucking had splattered all over his
pubes and balls. Finally, all the bikers except Poke had rammed me and
hopped off. Poke stood in front of me, stroking that huge horsedick of
his, slowly slipping the long foreskin back and forth over the head in
an almost  hypnotic rhythm. "You're fuckin' well named, you know that,
bro?"
 
    "Yeah; you'd  be surprised  how good  this dick is to me. Makes me
lots of  bread from  bored chicks  married to  straight citizens  with
teeny weenies. The pay from the porno flicks isn't bad either."
 
    "You should  model for  the gay  skin rags;  they'd go  crazy over
you."
 
    "They did. The first layout's comin' out next month."
 
    "I won't miss that!"
 
    "Damn right,  'cause I'm gonna give you good reason to remember me
right now. You got your inhaler?"
 
    "Yah."
 
    "Good, you're  gonna need it!!" With that, he moved behind me. The
preceding dialogue  may seem  a little  strange, but not if you'd seen
Poke's cock.  (Poke, by  the way,  is biker slang for cock, and anyone
nicknamed that  is usually  horse hung.)  It was  good and long, about
eleven inches worth. That alone was enough to make it exceptional, but
then there  was the  thickness of  the damn  thing. A  good two inches
across at the head, it got THICKER the further down you went, until at
the base  the damn  thing was about twice as wide as at the head. And,
unlike a  lot of huge dicks, it was iron-hard and standing up at about
a 45  degree angle  from his  belly. The head of his monster dick slid
fairly easily  into my butt, and he started a slow stroke that allowed
me to  take the  whole thing  in an unbelievably short time. He leaned
forward and  whispered into  my ear  "You got  it all,  fucker ... you
ready?"
 
    "Fuck, yes.  Give it  to me good, stud, put on a show!" With that,
he started the same sort of fast, slamming fuck rhythm that the others
had used;  I felt  like I  was riding to heaven on a telephone pole. I
could feel  his foreskin  slipping back and forth, back and forth over
the head  of his  dick as he plowed hard and fast. Finally, he slammed
into me as far as he would go, holding me impaled on his cock with his
hands on  my shoulders,  and pumped  me full of his steaming jizz. His
head dropped  back and he let out an animalistic howl, which coincided
with me  blasting out  the biggest wad of my life all over Jon's face.
Poke collapsed onto my back, and total silence reigned while all of us
recovered. After  a long moment, Poke gently removed his softened, but
still engorged  cock from my ass. "Get up here, fuckface" he roared to
Jon, whose beard was coated and soaked through with my cum.
 
    "Clean off this dick your buddy took so you wouldn't get yer pansy
ass ripped  up!" While  Jon eagerly  lapped the cum off of Poke's cock
and crotch,  a couple  of the  others quickly untied me and carried me
bodily over  to a  sofa, where  they laid me down, and where I immedi-
ately dropped  off into a dreamless sleep. I awoke with a start in the
sleeper cab  of Jon's  truck. "'Bout time you woke up! Of course, with
what you went through, I'm not surprised you slept so long."
 
    "What happened  after I  fell asleep?"  Jon grinned sheepishly. "I
finished cleanin'  off that  Poke dude's  cock, then came all over his
face when  another guy started rimmin' me out. They brought me back to
the truck,  and I  brought it  to their  clubhouse to  pick you up. Oh
yeah, they  asked me  to give  you this." Jon handed me a bulky manila
envelope. Inside  was a  full set  of member's  patches to their club,
along with  a short note: "If you don't hold a grudge against us, we'd
be proud to call a man with your balls Brother. Poke."
 
    "Hot damn, they made me a member!"
 
    "Yeah..." There was an uncomfortable pause.
 
    "Are you mad at me? I mean, those dudes were rough on you, and I'm
the cause... I wouldn't blame you if you hated my guts." I slipped out
of the  sleeper into the passenger seat. Jon had the piss-can in front
of him and was pulling out his cock for a piss as he spoke.
 
    I dove down and took his cock in my mouth, and was rewarded with a
mouthful of sweet clear piss. "Guess you ain't pissed ... or maybe you
are!" he said with a grin. "Shit no. Yeah, they were rough, but it was
a hot  turnon; I'm really into bikers. Besides, gettin' your ramrod up
the ol'  dirt road  three and more times a day was the best training I
could ever have gotten. In fact, I'm rather glad it happened."
 
    "Then maybe  you'd like  to spend  my two weeks layover here in DC
with me?"
 
    "Damn right I would! I can take two weeks out of my travelling for
a hot fucker like you!"
 
    "Oh, and  did I  tell you that my next route's gonna be up 'n down
the east coast?"
 
    "No, you didn't ... are you saying what I think you're saying?"
 
    "Guess so.  I'd like  to have  you with  me 'long as I can ... and
maybe when you're done with your travelling, you'll come back every so
often."
 
    "Count on  it, Jon,  count on it. Say, why don't you pull off into
the rest area and gimme something to suck on?"