A gay story: Freaky Trucker 06: B'more Ball Bust Freight seemed to pick up on the east coast, and Shelly, my new lead dispatcher, convinced me to camp out there while the getting was good.
“East coast is where the money is, hun. You take a load out of Amarillo to Charleston, South Carolina for me, then I’ll have you working the piers between Baltimore and Norfolk. That cool,” she said, as she would regulate me to running containers out of the ports in those locations.
I wasn’t the biggest fan of pulling the 20 to 45 foot steel boxes hauled in via ships that crossed the Atlantic, as working in the ports tended to be an unnecessary hassle.
“You’ll be working with broker companies, doing a lot of the drop and hooks as their local guys will do the in and outs of the ports,” she said. “Can you help me out Wayne?”
Shelly didn’t lie, and for that I’d come through for her as she always came through for me. I got unloaded in Charleston, then took a light load from Columbia, South Carolina to the Norfolk area, and dropped my trailer at one of the broker’s yards, then continued by hustling containers. I’d end up loving it, as I ran up and down I-95 a lot between New Jersey and the southern tip of North Carolina, running into old, and new faces, drivers mainly, at numerous places.
“You’ve been through here four times this week. I know you ain’t in love with our cheddar biscuits,” said Herman.
“So you choose to put my business all in the street,” I joked, as he and his crew laughed.
Herman was the manager of a food joint that was attached to a truck stop just north of Baltimore, as I ran a few boxes from that port up to Trenton, New Jersey a few times and would stop at his establishment. He gave me shit in his native Maryland drawl, stretching out the “u” sound in many of his words as I could tell he was looking to befriend me.
“I’ve seen your pretty ass truck pull into the lot and my eyes blew up,” he said, referring to my tractor.
I thanked him on this particular day as he was working the register while talking trash, showing his gapped smile on that nice, brown bear body of his.
“I been wanting a nice crab cake. You know where to find one,” I asked.
“Tell you what: you coming through here Friday,” he asked. “If so, I’ll treat you to one of the best that Maryland has to offer.
“Hell, I want one now,” I said with laughter, as he had my mouth watering.
I’d leave with the biscuits, nodding goodbye to everyone, then heading back to the truck to drive to the yard with a biscuit hanging out of my mouth, gnawing on the cheesy goodness before unhooking my trailer at the yard, then bobtailing back to the truck stop as I planned to spend the night. I parked, cut the engine, then made a bag of toiletries and clean clothes as I wanted to take a shower and slumber. I walked across the lot and back into the establishment as he was chatting with the cashiers, getting ready to exit.
“Damn trucker, you came back quicker than I thought,” he said to me.
“Well, I’m ready for them crab cakes,” I said with a chuckle.
“Hell, I’m hungry right now. You wanna go out and get one,” he asked.
I looked down at my bag, then him as I was tad reluctant.
“Come on. Hell, I’ll bring you back for a shower. Come enjoy a meal with me,” he said, as he would bid adieu to his workers, and we’d talk through the double doors together.
We climbed into his Nissan Pathfinder and started chatting, as he offered free room and board for the night.
“You got any freight lined up for tonight or tomorrow,” he asked.
“I don’t. Taking a break tomorrow,” I said, as we headed south towards Baltimore.
We’d make it into the city, getting off the interstate and making some wrong turns into some neighborhoods until he had us near Camden Yards, then the harbor. We rode past the seafood restaurant known for its crab cakes as it faced the water, and would be lucky enough to find a parking spot nearby.
“Hey Herman. This is all nice of you and all, especially since we don’t know each other. That being said, can we get our food to go,” I asked.
He’d agree, as we’d get out of the vehicle and walk a few steps into the place that had a wonderful smelling haze in our vicinity. We went inside the crowded establishment and ordered our food to go, as a few minutes later the waiter handed me a bag that felt like it was 15 lbs. heavy, containing two white boxes with a red crab logo on each. We walked out and into Herman’s ride, then sped back towards the interstate to head north, getting off at an exit in Timonium. We went a few blocks into the quiet town, and pulled into his driveway that bordered his two story home in a sleepy, All-American like neighborhood.
“Stark contrast to the city, or hell, the truck stop,” I said to him.
“Stark contrast indeed. We gotta be quiet though, the girlfriend’s a nurse, and might be asleep after a long shift,” he said.
We got out of the SUV and headed to the front door, me carrying my bag as we entered a dark house. He gave me a slight tour of his four bedroom home, showing me the guest room where I’d stay located on the first floor, equipped with its own private bathroom, and just a few steps from the kitchen and dining room. I’d get settled, take a shower and put on a t-shirt and shorts as my official night clothing. I headed back to the living room, where he was watching television.
“You smell good. Wanna beer,” he asked.
I said, yes, and he came back with two Miller Lite longnecks for each of us, as sports highlights played.
“Hey man, so do you run out here often out of the port, or you go everywhere,” he asked as he popped our tops.
I explained that I was running as a borrowed driver, and that I chose to go regional as it was an increase in truck pay. I went further to explain the nuances of trucking, as he mentioned he worked at the truck stop for over 20 years, but never figured out the intricacies that came with the industry.
“I bet your lady gets pretty lonely,” he asked me.
“I’m single out here,” I said with a laugh, as his handsome face with the thick, gray handlebar mustache seemed to light up when I said that.
We’d finish off the two beers as I heard his girl snoring. He’d get up and check on his woman, then return with two more beers before turning the television to a movie.
“The first Lethal Weapon,” he asked, mentioning the beginning of the Mel Gibson and Danny Glover team era.
He pushed a couple of buttons on the remote, went to the back to change into shorts and no shirt, coming back with his beefy, brawny chest to sit beside me on the couch. I couldn’t help but look at Herman as he had his legs propped on the coffee table in front of us, drinking his beer as his crotch was slightly showing in his shorts. I was able to see his thick pubes poking through his underwear fabric. I would take a sip of my beer then sit back and try to focus on the movie, but cutting my eye periodically to see if something would “poke out.”
“What you looking at,” he said, catching my head turning.
“Nothing, just twisting my neck,” I told him.
“Twisting your neck? I don’t think so, I think you’re checking for something,” he said to me. “You wanna touch it?”
“Touch what,” I asked.
He laughed, then took a long gulp of his beer while I tried to look straight. A few minutes later, I’d see him pull his underwear down at the corner of my eye, then he’d grab my right hand, and place it on the crotch area.
“Grab it,” he told me.
I was somewhat shocked by the gall he carried. I tried to keep that inner freak in me from surfacing, but I’d feel his cock harden, then would see it rise through the hole in his underwear.
“You wanna stroke it,” he asked.
I nodded, afraid that if his lady would catch us, we’d be in hot water.
“Stop looking over there and focus on what’s in front of you,” he said.
He handed me a tube of liquid from the table behind the couch, and I’d open the top to squirt a little of the liquid in my right hand, putting the bottle on the coffee table right before I started stroking his penis.
“That’s it, nice and slow,” he said in a light whisper.
Herman’s dick could’ve measured out a perfect six, maybe seven inches in length, with the dark brown shaft, and peach colored tip with a deep slit in the middle. It was super stiff as I looked back and forth at the movie and his face, seeing him tilt his head back as he enjoyed the impromptu hand job. I’d keep rubbing with my right hand, picturing me coming out of my shorts and riding “backwards cowboy,” taking him deep inside me as we hadn’t even started eating the crab cakes.
“Is that how you like it,” I asked.
“Hell yeah, don’t you stop. Stroke that dick, man,” he said.
Herman, who was hairy and tattooed all over, squirmed a little while I jerked that cock of his, gripping it hard as I went up and down. I rubbed the head with my thumb tip, then used my strength in pulling the cock as I wanted to see him cum. I stopped looking at the movie as I was close to getting on my knees to suck him, but then I saw his face as he whimpered.
“What’s the matter man? You like this truck driver rubbing this dick,” I said to him as I increased the speed and pressure.
“You just might make me make a mess on this couch,” he said to me.
I sped up the stroke more, then employed my free hand to squeeze his right nipple to give him the ultimate pleasure.
“One day you come back, I’mma bend you over this couch,” he told me.
“I’d like that. My pussy needs a good wrecking,” I said to him.
“Ooooh fuck. I bet that pussy is warm, too,” he said. “Got damn you, you gon’ make me nut!”
He screamed, but not too loud as his cock was like a rocket launcher shooting off missiles of pure sperm. Those words took him over the top, and I was impressed.
“So much cum,” I said, as he had enough liquid to fill half a cup.
I kept stroking, thinking I’d get a second load out of him, but he declined, holding my hand.
“I’m wore out, man,” he said to me. “You really made me blow.”
I let go of his cock, then licked my hands clean as he had some sweet cream. He’d get us both towels, wetted them, then handed me one as I cleaned the sweat off my forehead, and the residual cum. After that he’d retreat to bed, handing me the remote and telling me I could watch, or order, whatever. Soon after he closed the door to his bedroom, I cut the television off, then rushed to the room as I wanted to finger my hole while jerking off.
To be continued.