SkinMarvin Gay Stories

I break down the blue Werner Express Freightliner Classic XL and signal to other drivers that I’m exiting the L.B.J. Freeway in south Dallas. Dallas Terminal is right off of Texas State Route 342. I expertly pilot the rig to a graceful stop and head south on the four lane asphalt. Skin Hauler stares at me with his sad deep blue eyes. I’ve ran with him for seven weeks, one extra week just because he didn’t want to let me go and I didn’t want to go. I’m feeling a little depressed and excite at the same time. Skin Hauler’s face says it all. He’s pissed and sad, but tries to hide it by smiling at me. I glance at him every now and then, but I hold back the tears. We roll up to the gates, check in, go thru the Safety Lane Inspection, and park the rig.

I type in my duty status onto QualComm and sign off for the last time. Tyler closes the curtains as I type. He reaches over me and kisses me. I taste his tongue and his breath as he forces it down my throat. I moan as we make out. When we finally come up for air, I run my tongue all over his shaved head. He groans and grunts as I lick every inch of his skull. Our hands run down to each others pants. He pulls me by my short pants to the sleeper and unbuttons them. He pushes them down and his hands enter my jock strap to fondle my cock and balls. I unfasten his bleachers and push them down. While I lick his head I enter his jock and grab the monster.

Skin Hauler grabs me and pushes me onto his bunk. We pet and grope each other. His rough hands pinch my nipples. He pulls my shirt off and I pull his off. I deep throat him while staring into his eyes. He reaches around and fingers my sphincter. I gasp in surprise. He says shit and removes his finger from my asshole. He sucks three of his fingers and then has me suck them. I like the taste of myself and his fingers. He does it again and this time it feels pretty good. We make out while Skin Hauler slowly stretches me open. I relax and open up. I stop making out with Skin Hauler, turns around, and suck his 9 inch uncut cock. He sucks my own five inch cock (it got bigger since we started having sex) while performing a reach around.

Skin Hauler’s cock is throbbing, as I run my tongue over its veins and head. He stops sucking me and turns me around onto my back. I spread my ass open and he slowly enters me. I moan when his large cock starts to probe me, but it slides into me eventually. He pumps me relentlessly. I grunt and scream in ecstasy into a pillow, so that no one walk by hears up, although I would prefer to scream and cuss at Skin Hauler. We know we have to be discreet, or else. Fuck I love it when he fucks me. I remove the pillow in order to look into Skin Haulers face as he pumps me. He is in heaven and he whispers shit to me. His face turns nasty and mean as he talks shit.

Skin Hauler: You fuckin’ cunt Take it bitch Fucker Pussy Got damn faggit Bitch Cunt Motherfucker Towelhead Nigger Kike Nazi Bastard Fuckin’ sub Chink Queer Pussy Asshole Whore Cocksucker Nip Beaner Faggit Jew Pisshead Pig fucker Fairy Shithead Sand nigger Border brother Faggit Punk cocker sucker etc

I love it when he talks dirty, so I talk dirty to him. He slaps my thighs, as I tighten my legs around his hard body. His cock moves faster and faster. He continues to pump me since he’s semi hard. He bites my legs and draws blood. It makes him hard again. He fucks the hell out of me, over and over again. I take it all and enjoy the smell of hot sweaty man sex. He rubs my legs and cums into me again. He grabs a butt plug off the TV shelf and inserts it into my leaking man pussy. He lies on top of me for a minute and we simply stare into each other. He licks my nipples and works his way down my six packs. Skin Hauler lick the base of my cock. His tongue dances its way to the head and he sucks my cock.

I grunt as Skin Hauler sucks my cock. I rub his shaved head and feel his arms and upper body. Skin Hauler gets me well lubed and turns over. He spreads his ass cheeks wide. I spit into my hands and rub his tight glory hole. I probe him with my cock. It takes a few tries, but I get into him. Skin Hauler moves his ass with me. I pump him until I cum. He got hard while I worked his ass. As soon as I pulled out of Skin Hauler he turns me over. He removes the butt plug and fucks me hard doggie style. He collapsed on top of me and we lay together for awhile. He whispered into my ear,”Fuck dogs, I fuckin’ love your ass. God I’m gonna miss you. Fuck it. Damn fucker I can’t wait until you’re my co-driver. I love you.” I tell Skin Hauler that I love him. We make out and I look into his pup dog eyes. We hold each other and let the moment last for a long time.

There’s a knock on the driver’s side door and Skin Hauler jumps off of me and gets dressed quickly. While I’m dressing he looks pulls back a corner of curtain and rolls down the window. He starts to talk with someone on the ground. I finish dressing and open the rest of the curtains. Tyler McGraw steps back and opens the door. He introduces me to his new student. He’s older than Tyler probably in his late forty’s or early fifties and is definitely straight. He’s what Tyler refers to as a career changer (either he was downsized and retrained or just fell like driving). He has his gear with him and is ready to start training.

We unload my repacked bags and head to the main terminal building. We leave my stuff in the Driver’s lounge. The student goes back to the rig to settle in while Tyler shows me where the Drivers’ Management windows are located. I check in, but they won’t have a rig ready for me a few days. I’m given a hotel voucher that the company’s paying for and told that I will just have to wait. I walk with Tyler to the bathroom. After checking that it’s empty, we kiss a long good bye kiss and Tyler practically runs out the door. I was shaking a little after that kiss. I couldn’t hold it any longer. I ducked into a stall sat on the toilet and cried a little.

Once I regained control I washed my face and made sure that it didn’t show on my face. I slowly walked to the lounge and picked up my gear. I waited outside for the shuttle van that runs to local businesses and the hotel. I reluctantly got onboard when it pulled up. I saw Tyler showing his new student how to do a walk around inspection. His tattoos were moving with his muscular body as he climbed and pointed at various parts. He looked up as the van was pulling away and waved good bye. I held back the tears and smiled a fake smile and waved back. I sit back and talk to the other drivers in the shuttle.

As we ride to the hotel I take to my seat mate. He’s a trainee driver too, just got off his trainer’s truck a few hours earlier than me today. I quickly size him up. He’s roughly 5’9” or 5’10” with gray eyes and his brown hair is shaved into a crew cut. He introduces himself as Wes, just out of the military and chose trucking as a civilian job. Wes is 25 and got an honorable discharge. He likes my Mohawk, because it’s just like the Indians back home in Montana. He is dressed in white Nike runners, jean shorts, and a solid blue polo type shirt. There are two teams in the van plus the shuttle driver. They are getting hotel rooms, because their rigs were too old for Werner Express. They’re waiting for new rigs, since Werner sells them after 500,000 miles or four years which ever comes first.

At check the two teams are served first and given Suites due to their seniority. Meanwhile, we two trainees are told that we are sharing a standard room with two twins. Wes just shrugs and says it’s better than sharing a barrack with several dozen other men. I wanted some time by myself, but it looks like I have to hide it. We lug are shit down the corridor and enter our first floor room. The teams went up in the elevator to nicer places on the third. It’s a pretty basic room, non-descript and bland in American motel style. At least there’s a coffee maker in the room, since I like my morning coffee. I call the bed by the window and throw my back pack onto it.

Wes sets his carry all into the closet and I place my rolling suitcase in there next to it. Wes grabs the remote control and turns it on to NASCAR. Damn I forgot it was Sunday, no wonder why the rigs aren’t ready Truck Assignment only works half days on Sunday, even though freight moves 24/7. I get up to turn on the A/C, but it’s still hot and muggy in here, since it was turned off when we checked in. Wes says shit it’s hot. He kicks off his shoes, and then takes off his shirt and shorts. He’s in army cammo boxers and has a nice little tent. He rubs his crotch and mumbles how a beer and bag of pork rinds would go good with NASCAR. He quickly adds that it would be a bad idea, since you never know if they will give a piss test tomorrow at Dallas Terminal. Besides we have a road test and final written test tomorrow before they give us a rig.

Damn it’s still hot and the A/C is weak, so I take my shirt off and my boots. Wes kicks back and his bed and we talk about girl friends and my deceased wife. I complain about the Texas heat. After awhile Wes suggests that I take off my pants, it might make things cooler. I tell him I only got a jock on, my dick is also hard but I don’t tell him. He says he doesn’t care. He’s got a girl back home and he’s ex-military. So, he’s been surrounded by naked men before. I start to wonder if he’s gay or bi and think to myself fuck it the A/C barely works and I’m hot. I slip out of my shorts and throw them onto my pile on the floor.

Wes sees my cock straining in the jock and he complains that it’s hot. His bulge is now a full blown tent pole. Wes takes off his boxer and a fat 7 inch cut cock springs to attention. I’m dripping Precum and Wes plays with his balls telling me that the boys need to be adjusted. Wes has a trucker’s tan big time. He’s got red forearms, neck, face, and lower legs, but the rest of his body is a pale white, especially his white cock. He’s got a small beer belly and it’s covered in brown hair. He’s a good looking bear cub. He starts to stoke his cock and smiles at me. He gets up and sits on my bed. He rubs my leg. I smile and grab his hand. I don’t bat it away instead I place it on my right nipple. I free my 5 inch cut cock and take my jock off.

Wes tells me he’s bi and had a feeling in the shuttle that I was too. His other hand reaches down and fondles my cock. I fondle his cock and rub his arms. Damn, he’s fucking hot (well there’s nothing like ex-military dudes). I lean over to kiss him, but before I shove my tongue down his throat he pushes me away gently. “Sorry man, but I don’t kiss guys.” He continues to stroke my dick and I stroke his. He whispers to me that he wants me to suck his cock. I reply by telling him that only if he sucks my dick at the same time. He says fuck no that shit is gay and gets up to go to the bathroom.

Fuck I feel a little pissed and go soft. He starts all this shit and I feel stupid. I get up and put my jock back on. Wes comes out of the bathroom a moment later with some towels and asks, “What are you doing?” “Nothing, I thought you weren’t interested.” He throws the towels onto my bed and tackles me. We fall onto the floor and wrestle around. I’m getting hard again as he puts me into a sleeper hold. I lick his arm and he releases me. Wes is covered in sweat and panting. He grabs my jock and tugs it off. He flings it to the floor. He lunges at me again. We roll around on the cheap carpet, knocking over the chairs and dripping sweat onto the floor and each other. After ten minutes of rough housing we break apart and stare at each other panting with our tongues open. Wes’s cock is hard as a rock seeping Precum, as is my own cock. I tackle him and put him on the bed. I pin his arms and use my legs to pry his legs apart. When I get him spread eagle I lean down and start licking his chest. Wes squirms a little but tells me that he likes it. I lick his brown fur covered nipples and give them little love bites. “Fuck ya’ll my girl does that back home,” he moans.

My tongue moves to his smelly arm pits. I run it all over his right pit. It tastes like old cheap deodorant, fresh sweat, and his young man scent. I inhale his scent and nearly cum all over him. I stop for a moment to lick his left armpit. Wes moans that his girl friend never licks his pits, he says it likes it. I work my tongue back to the center of his chest and down to his belly. I lick his stomach for a few minutes. Slowly I work my way down to his cock. I release his hands and work his knob. Wes places his hands on the shaved part of my head. He guides me up and down his shaft. While moaning and groaning, he moves his calloused hands against my sandpaper like skull. I like rough hands of blue collar men. My own hands are similar to his from gripping a wheel all day. I stroke his prick with my tongue as I fantasize about what it would be like to fuck him. Wes moves me faster and faster. I keep my teeth off of him and take his whole cock. I like the taste of his cock and the smell of his crotch. I wrap my tongue around his member as I move up and down his sweaty youth sweet shaft. He cums quickly and pushes me gently off of him after pumping out his load. He tells me that was the best head he ever had. His girl is more teeth than tongue. I give him a million dollar smile.

Wes gets up and grabs a towel. He lays it on his bed and lies on top of it. I lie on my own bed and stare at the ceiling. I try to concentrate on the cracked plaster ceiling, but the temptation of a naked man is too much so I look over at him. I slowly masturbate while taking peaks at Wes. I still have a raging hard on and l smile at him. He sighs, gets up, and sits next to me. He grabs my average size cock and stokes it. I lean back and let him jerk me off. He jerks me hard and fast. I can tell that he wants to get this over as quick as possible. Only I don’t cum. He asks me what I don’t to cum quickly, so I show him a circular motion that I use while rubbing its head. He’s impatient and jerks me rough. Its making me rock hard, but I still can’t cum. After ten minutes he asks if I’m going to bust a nut or what. Just to fuck with him I tell him it usually takes me an hour or longer to cum. I don’t mention that I just had sex with Skin Hauler an hour and a half ago. I tell him that I got porn star hang time. Wes says fuck that and practically runs to the shower, he leaves the door open. I laugh as soon as I hear the water falling.

I keep playing with myself, because Wes turns me on and I know I won’t cum at least for a while. Wes gets out of the shower and sees me stoking it and says something about being impressed about my hang time. I just smile and suppress laughter. He asks me if I want to split a pizza or go out for barbeque or even Fat Burger. I agree to the pizza. He calls a local place, while I stop long enough to get my share of the money. He sits back on the bed and watches the race finish up. No 24 wins the race and Wes groans. Apparently he doesn’t like it when Jeff Gordon wins even if it’s a minor race.

Thirty minutes later the pizza arrives, I still haven’t cum. But, at least I still have a hard on. Wes can’t believe that I’ve been up for an hour and twenty minutes. I’m laughing on the inside. I finally give up and grab a slice. Dusk is falling outside and the room has cooled down enough for me to put my jock back on. Wes puts on his boxers. We talk about rigs and the road. Wes shows me pictures of his girl friend. I have a few pictures of Tyler McGraw, but instead I show him pictures of the Pomona Punks and Skins. Chino is shares a border with Pomona, so it’s close enough for me to be a local. He comments that I must have been a wild bastard when I was younger. I agree and show him pictures of Lisa. We finish dinner and I suck him off again while he looks are some porn magazines.

The next day Wes and I wait in the lobby with about eleven other drivers. Six are experienced drivers, four are the same two husband and wife teams from yesterday, so they will probably have their rigs assigned today and the other two are solo drivers. When the van arrives we all pile in and chat about the odds of getting a rig today. One of the solos says that it’s pretty good that everyone will get assigned today, since they’ve got at least 20 new road ready unassigned rigs in the yard all 379 Peterbilts fresh from the Dallas plant. I’ve never driven a Pete the solo says that they usually just give out Petes here. He’s a Peter Car man and proud to drive ‘em. I’m too new to know what kind of truck man I am so I listen to him talk about how they ride smoother than Freight shakers. He goes on how they look good with all the chrome and dual stacks on the sides instead of the back like the FLD 120, Columbia, and Century model. They have more functions and knobs and buttons, you have control over just about everything. They handle better shift smoother and are a better truck than the Freightliners. He goes on and on. If Skin Hauler were here he’d tell him to shut up or punch him.

Monday morning, at Dallas Terminal is a bee hive of activity. Cute cowboy drivers (Truckers in lay man’s terms or when you’re showing disrespect to another Driver) walk in and out of the main building and training center. They get paperwork from Local Dallas Terminal Dispatch and head out in their day cabs. Most of them will be home tonight, since they put in regular shifts and are paid hourly. The majorities of Day Cabbers are family men and choose to short haul, so they can see them on a daily basis. They are a different breed of drivers from Tyler and me, but they are still part of the brotherhood of Drivers. I try not to cruise any of them, but I can’t help it. I spot a large fit cowboy trucker. He’s in tight Levi’s that accents his bulging package. I can see his cock since he doesn’t have any underwear on. His shirt is tucked in and he has a huge Bull riding buckle on that he won in his youth. His face is half hidden behind mirrored sun glasses. His shaved or partially shaved head is hidden under a white Stetson. I lick my chops as I check out his huge arms and barrel chest; he is bigger than Skin Hauler. He has a wedding ring, but I still fantasize what it would be like to have him ride me rough. We’d be outside in the desert where I’d buck and kick like a bull. Wes taps me on the shoulder snapping me out of fantasy land. Luckily only Wes notices me drooling and he probably won’t say anything.

The seven of us trainees spent two hours in the computer room, competing Werner Express’s computerized training. They tested us on field procedures and operating regulations. We tested on basic stuff like how to deal with the US Department of Transportation (DOT) inspections, and hours of service limits. I’ve been through this material before, at training in Fontana Terminal. Only this time it’s the final tests. People that don’t pass are given more time to study, but if they don’t pass it by the four times they could be terminated. Tyler made me study the last two weeks we were together, well at least between the fucking and sucking. So, it was no surprise that I finished a half hour early and passed with a 98%. Wes finished third with a 96% and a woman driver, Road Cat, came in first with a 100%.

The road test wasn’t that bad it was almost the same as the DMV’s test, but at least we had behind the wheel experience by the time we took it. The tester took us one by one out of the terminal and had us drive and empty trailer around South Dallas. It went by quickly. Sadly, some of the trainees that scored lower then Road Cat would talk trash to her. On the road test she scored a perfect score despite, being heckled by some of the trainees for being a woman. I kind of liked her; we got along great that day. She had red flowing hair and creamy white skin. Road Cat is a tough bird and beautiful, except I didn’t feel sexually attracted to her, just platonic. She was openly flirting with me in when we got back to the Driver’s Lounge and Wes wouldn’t stop giggling and laughing. Fuck what’s wrong with me. Before Skin Hauler, a girl like Road Cat would turn me on. Hell a girl like her wouldn’t find an ugly bastard like me attractive. Fuck, why the hell do girls chase after gay men, instead of straight men? Well, at least when I thought I was straight. Fuck, at least she has a great personality. Still it got me down a little when I started to think about it. Fuck it.

All the trainees in my class passed our road tests and computerized tests, so the rest of the day was spent waiting for truck assignments. By the late afternoon the experienced drivers all had new 379 Peterbilts. Road Cat got hers assigned first, then me, and then Wes. Finally the others were assigned trucks. Werner Express gives their drivers time to settle in, so we didn’t have to leave the hotel that night. The three of us decided to check out our rigs together as the sun sank a little lower. The Petes were parked next to each other and their new Werner Blue paint shined like a new penny. The sun reflected off the twin chrome exhaust stacks. I got a hard on just staring at her. I climbed up into the 379 and noted her Truck number, 27002. The interior was clean and sparking. She had that new car smell I sat in her seat which was still covered in plastic. The 70 inch sleeper had never been slept in and I thought of her as my new home. Road Cat sounded her air horn and Wes pulled the cable to his. The 379 has a nice deep bellow and I added mine own to their calls. This is my first command as a solo Driver. I’m not a trainee anymore.

The shuttle ride back to the hotel was festive as everyone was excited at getting their first rigs. I got hard when Wes whispered that we need to celebrate. At the hotel the other rookies took off to their rooms. Before we leave the van, Road Cat suggests that we go to the local Barbeque place North of I-20. I agree and Wes asks the van driver to take us there. She says okay and puts the Dodge Commuter van into gear. The barbeque place is crowd for a Monday evening and loud music is playing. My Mohawk is standing tall and proud despite the Big D’s high humidity. We walk in and get in line.

I get a combination plate filled with beef ribs, chicken, and Tri-tip. For sides I get the deep fried okra, greens, sweet potatoes, and cornbread. Wes and Road Cat get similar plates. It’s risky, but we get a few pitchers of beer. The food is awesome, but fattening, fuck it. Road Cat gets horny as she drinks down one beer after another. It isn’t long before she wants to dance. She drags me to the dance floor and we’re dancing to the jukebox along with a few other couples. I try to concentrate on Road Cat, but I keep glancing at Wes. He flashes me a come and get it grin from time to time. We sit down again after five songs. Wes looks hot just kicking back and enjoys the atmosphere. Another gal sits herself down at the table and talks to us. Road Cat asks Wes to dance next. He gets up and they dance to the fast bluegrass pumping thru the sound system. She drags me to the dance floor and we dance the night away.

“Fuck, that was fun,” claims Wes as we walk back to the hotel. Road Cat has one arm draped over me as we stumble half walk to our hotel. Wes excuses himself and heads to our room. Road Cat is the only female rookie she has a queen size bed to herself. I walk her up to the second floor avoiding the lobby just in case there are Werner Express drivers up and talking the night away. Never know who might be a snitch. She invites me into her room and the two of us fall onto her bed.

She kisses me. I start rubbing her back, while she runs her hands to the front of my shorts. She feels my package and runs her hand up my shirt. I’m drunk, but I fondle her tits and sloppy kiss her. She unbuckles my shorts and pulls them down. I unbutton her shirt and throw it to the floor. She throws my shorts to the floor and takes my shirt off. She kicks her boots off and takes her pants off. I take her bra off and we make out. We roll around on her bed, I French her hard. She reaches down into my briefs and fondles my balls and small cock. I’m not turned on. Fuck.

Road Cat takes off briefs off and mumbles that I have a great body. She plays with me, but I can’t get hard. I fantasize that I’m with Skin Hauler. Damn, still nothing. Road Cat is getting frustrated so I just claim that I’m drunk. We continue with the fore play for twenty minutes. Afterward, I cuddle her and we talk.
Road Cat: What’s wrong?
Punk: Huh, I don’t know. Must, have drunk too much.
RC: Don’t you find me attractive.
Punk: Yeah, baby you’re one fine woman.
RC: I think you’re hot. (She ruffles my hawk)
Punk: Thank you. I’m sorry this never happen before.
RC: It’s okay. I just want you to hold me.
Punk: Damn this is nice. I like your hair.

RC: Thanks, you’re gay aren’t you? Punk: Fuck, uh

RC: I suspected it the moment I saw you checking out the local drivers at the terminal. Punk: Fuck, uh

Don’t tell anyone.
RC: You’re a sweet man, underneath all that (she strokes the hawk).
Punk: I like having a hawk. Damn I didn’t think I was that obvious.
RC: No you’re not obvious, it’s just that as we spent the day together I wasn’t too sure. I thought you where bi at first.
Punk: I thought I was bi, but damn I figured I must be queer when I couldn’t get it up. Fuck, if only I met you a few years ago. I was married once.
RC: Was it a divorce?
Punk: No car accident a year and 10 months ago.
RC: I sorry.
Punk: Yeah, me too.
RC: Stay the night with me.

I kiss her again and wrap my arms around her. She curls up into the curves of my body and falls asleep. I smell her while she sleeps. I like her scent, but it does nothing for me. I keep thinking about Skin Hauler. The feel of his hard body, his large cock as it enters my ass and his musky man scent. Damn I wish he was here right now. Hell, I’d settle for Wes, but he only wanted his dick sucked. I imagine my arms being wrapped around Tyler McGraw and drift off into a peaceful drunken sleep.

The next morning Road Cat gently wakes me. We hug and exchange numbers. I get dressed quickly and head into my room. Wes is awake and dressed. He asks me what happened last night. I tell him that all we did was talk. No sex or anything. He looks a little surprised and calls me a liar. He keeps at it until; I tell him I couldn’t get an erection. That shuts him up. I take a shower and change my clothes. Wes is reading a book on his bed. He asks me what Road Cat looks like naked. I don’t tell him a thing. We gather up our gear and go to the lobby to check out. We wait for the van with some of the other rookies. I grab a cup of complimentary coffee as we wait.

The shuttle arrived and took us to Dallas Terminal. Wes and I broke off from the other drivers and we call our dispatchers to let them know that we’re ready for loads today and to sort of meet them. Then we head to our rigs. Wes asked me to help him move in. He climbed up into his Pete while I put my stuff on the ground. I handed Wes his gear and in less than a minute he was moved in. As trainees we didn’t have much stuff so moving in is less work than if we were experienced drivers. Wes helps me move in and afterward we exchanged numbers.

I checked over the permit packet that I got from Truck Assignments yesterday. Everything was in order, except for a real license plate. I double checked to make sure the temporary tags were in the window. It’s time to fire her up and take her for a little test drive. I put my key in the ignition and crank her up. She roars to life on the first try. Her idle is a little low, so I pull the idle speed adjuster and git her purring like a kitten. I get hard as the air pressure builds and the Caterpillar engine warms up in the morning Dallas sun. I grab the Quail Call and log on as a solo driver for the first time. Fuck it feels good; almost as good as sex.

I push in the tractor air brake valve and put her in gear. I turn on the flashers and sound the air horn. Wes waves from next door; I wave back and let her roll. I drive her around the yard and note that I don’t really need fuel. But, I decide to head out to the Pilot truck stop since I need a CB radio. The guard types in my truck number and waves me thru the gate when I tell him I’m road testing the tractor. The Pilot is next door to Dallas Terminal, so I figured I’d stop there on the way back.

I take her out onto the L.B.J. freeway and work the nine gears. Her clutch is tight so I float her to save wear and tear on the clutch. She caps out at 66 miles per hour, just a little faster then the 65 mph limit. Damn governors and corporate bureaucrats. Other than that she rides good and looks good. The long hood and shiny chrome stacks turn me on. I’m hard as a rock. I drive her two exits over before turning around. Need to save my hours for driving. I drive her to the Pilot next and park her in the bobtail section.

When I walk in the Professional Drivers’ Entrance, everyone stops talking at once and they gawk at me. I try to ignore them and keep my face blank. I head over to the electronics section. Inwardly I smile at the thought that I can make a room stop just by walking into it. My hawk is tall and proud as I look at TV/VCR combos. My Oxblood, 10 hole, Gripfast, boots are scuffed and ladder laced. I have on my torn studded denim jacket with band patches and a wife beater. My cargo shorts are torn and patch. Basically, I look like a gutter punk or bum to them Texans. I cruise the CB radios and pick up a cheap model.

Older Man: Boy, I’d put that hunk of junk down if I were you.
Punk: Huh? I’m thinking about buying it.
Older Man: Nah, ‘em $40 radios break as soon as you plug ‘em in. If you got the cash try one of the Galaxy 99 models. I got one on my rig and it puts out a 200 mile range with the boosters and twin antenna set up I got.
Punk: Really, well that $300 a week a made as a trainee didn’t go far, so I’m on a budget (I turn around). Oi, I know you. You’re Blue Knight.
Blue Knight: Yup, and your Punk.
Punk: Cool, how are you?
BK: Been running hard, just got a new rig three weeks ago at Omaha Head Quarters. She’s a KW (Kenworth) with a Detroit Diesel and a new Super 10 shifter.
Punk: Cool, I just got my first Rig yesterday, a Peterbilt 379, with a CAT and Fuller 9 speed.
BK: Good truck.
Punk: (I put down the $40 radio and pick up another radio). What about the Cobra 29? BK: That’s ok for a beginner model and it’s decent for a cheap CB. If you get these Wilson twins it should give you a nice little 5 mile range, just enough to do business.
Punk: I’ll take them at least until I earn enough for a big radio or if it breaks. What to check out my rig?

Blue Knight Replies that he’ll do better than that, he’ll help me set it up. I pay for my stuff and we walk over to the rig. Blue Knight looks her over and says she’s a pretty rig. He goes over to his rig in the main lot git his tool box. I unlock the doors and climb in. Blue Knight returns and sets up the CB and antennas in about six minutes. He explains to me how to set it up, so that next time I can do it myself. He hands me the mic and I do the first radio check on it. I offer to buy him breakfast at the Waffle House (only place open near by that isn’t fast food).

After having a good breakfast and catching up with Blue Knight, I thank him again and we return to our Rigs. We exchange cell numbers (Tyler talked me into getting one just before I got off his truck). He got a load bound for Chicago and took off. I checked my Quail Call and see that I have been assigned a load. I write down the load information in my mini notebook. I got a load of electronic components for an appliance manufacturer in Greensboro, North Carolina. I accept it and go to the terminal. I find the trailer, hook up to it, and send in that I’ve got it to dispatch.

I haven’t really moved in yet, but I don’t have much. My suitcase, laundry bag, sleeping bag, and bomber jacket (double as a pillow) are on the lower bunk. My back pack is on second chair with my studded leather jacket draped over the back. I figure I’d take a minute to put the suitcase in one of the closets and the laundry bag in the other. The plastic is hot and sticky, so I take it off the seats. I leave the plastic on the floor, at least until I get some mats and thicker carpet (bath mat like in Tyler’s rig). I take the plastic off the bunk and walk it all to the dumpsters. Now I’m ready, so I drive out the gate and pull over just long enough to tell dispatch I’m rolling.

My cock is hard as I pull onto I-20 and cycle thru the gears. I take the loop around the Big D to I-30 East. Later I will catch I-40 and take it all the way across to Greensboro. I could’ve stayed on I-20 and rolled thru Atlanta and up I-85, but the computer sent me the northern route. I like Atlanta, but as a rookie they want me to follow there directions. I roll the rest of the day and half the night before stopping just east of Memphis, Tennessee.

The next morning I’m rolling along the Tennessee country side and listening to surf punk band called War Called Peace. The fast beats and open chords make me feel like I’m going a hundred miles an hour. I light a cigarette while gliding her down the interstate. Damn, just cruising in a big truck is one of the best feelings in the world. I hang the cigarette out of the corner of my mouth. My small prick gets stiff, so I cop a feel. I like its round head, too bad my shaft wasn’t an inch or four longer. I play with my balls and crank up the stereo.

As the sun rises toward high light I decide to pull into a rest area near the 267 or 268 yard stick. I get out of Truck 27002 and go inside to take a piss. While I’m in here a vaguely familiar voice says,”Damn boy what did they do to your hair?” I look at the source of the voice and we both recognize each other at the same time. “YOU!” Shit, it’s the pig that wanted to fuck me. Shit, I try to run out of there, but he grabs me and shoves me into the wall of the rest room. He’s smiling at me, like a fox in a hen house. I start to sweat and get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The highway patrol officer pushes me into the handicap stall and forces me to my knees. He draws his gun on me and tells me that he has to piss and I’m the toilet. I refuse at first, until he cocks his pistol. I open my mouth. He unzips his pants and frees a large floppy donkey dick. Shit. He’s pisses into my mouth. I’m revolted by his piss and nearly throw up when he releases his stream. He yells at me to drink it or else. I try to drink his piss, but most of it ends up on my shirt, shorts, and the floor. He’s grinning like the devil and tells me that I’m trash.

When he finishes pissing, he grabs my head and forces it to his boots. He’s mad because I got piss on his boots. He tells me to clean them and forces the gun to the back of my head. I lick his boots. I look up at him and he has a hard on. Fuck, this isn’t a good sign. He moans as I lick his boots. The door to the men’s room opens. He leans over me and tells me not to make a sound. He cusses a little and puts his dick away. I’m scared and piss. I want to attack him, but no one will believe its self defensive.

After the man leaves the cop tells me that we’re going to some place a little more private. He tells me not to make a scene or he will arrest me and take me in for attacking an officer of the law. I say that’s bullshit, I haven’t done anything wrong. He slaps me hard and says he’ll shoot me for resisting arrest. No one believes the words of a dead man. He pulls me up and forces me out of the stall. I stumble as we make our way to 27002.

Another truck is parked right next to my truck, so there is a narrow alley like way. The driver isn’t in sight, probably one of the men in the distance walking their dogs. The cop doesn’t want my pissed soaked clothes in the cab with us. He tells me to strip right there and throw them in the lock box. I get naked fast and I shove everything except my keys into the box. I’m order into the cab. As the cop is climbing up he see the box of diaper wipes that I keep on the driver’s side (they’re for removing stubborn fifth wheel grease). He tells me to clean myself up he doesn’t like dirty slaves. I don’t like the sound of that. I wipe myself clean as best as possible. Meanwhile he turns on the engine, sets the idle, turns up the air to full blast, and closes the curtains.

I’m shivering, but not from the cold. He lunges at me and knocks me onto the sleeper. The gun is pointed at my forehead as he strides my body. He grabs my cock and I can’t help but go hard. He smiles and says that he likes men with small dick. I cringe when he says that. I know I’m small, but he’s saying it just to humiliate me. Tyler would tell me that it’s well formed and the head is perfect for riding for hours on end. The cop keeps telling me how bad in bed men with little cocks are. I swear I’m gonna kill him if I get the chance. He squeezes my balls hard until they feel like they’re going to burst. I scream as he tightens his vice like grip. He moves up to my cock and stretches it until my cut fore skin is stretched over my head and extending me out to six inches. I yelp in pain as he sneers that I’m not small any more. He releases me but I still hurt a little.

The copper bites my nipples hard and slaps me with his one free hand. He forces me to lie down on the bunk face down. He cuffs my hands together and then cuffs them to the emergency exit. Next he ties my legs down to various handholds and straps in the sleeper. Fucking designer of theses must have been into S&M. He puts his gun down when he’s satisfied that I can’t move. He pulls out a ball gag, inserts it into my mouth, and then straps it tight around my head. I can only make muffled grunting sounds or screams. I’m sweating like a pig. He quickly takes off his uniform and slaps his thick 81/2 inch cock into my face. He slaps it at my nose and Precum drips out of it. It runs down my face and onto the sleeping bag. He can smell fear on me. I’m powerless and he grabs my hawk. He pulls my hair and keeps pulling as my eyes tear up. He leans into my ear and whisper that this shit has to go.

I start struggling hard when he says that he’s going to cut off my hawk. He cackles and belts me. I keep struggling as he beats me. I can feel blood flowing down my back. The cuts sting as my sweat runs into the cuts. I stop struggling and gag as I try to scream. The cop stops beating me and tells me that I’m been a bad faggot. He calls me a pussy since I don’t have a big Skinhead to hide behind. He slaps my ass and says that he likes firm men that are chicken shit pussies. He goes through his pants and pulls out a large knife. I’m still tearing from the fire on my back. He chops at my hawk. I get pissed as cuts off my hawk. He pulls at it, cuts off a clump, and shows it to my face. He’s laughing as he cuts off my hawk. He cuts it off and my head feels lighter. I scream when he shows the last clump. I’m pissed and enraged I struggle against the bonds and scream as loud as I can, but the gag chokes off almost all noises and the bonds hold fast.

The highway patrol officer jumps on me. He slaps my blood and sweat soaked back. I stop struggling and scream. He tells me to stop moving and slaps the open wounds to enforce it. I just scream into the gag and comply with his commands. He slaps his dick all over my back. He gets his dick covered in sweat and blood. He moves down to my ass and without any stretching or gentle probing, rams it in there. I scream as my ass is spilt wide open. He violently pumps me over and over. I go soft as he pumps me. This isn’t love or even lustful one night stay sex. This is fucking rape. I imagine that I’m not here. I try to think of a beach were there’s plenty of beers and it’s just me and Skin Hauler. It doesn’t last long as he slaps my sore back bringing me back to the present. I cry out for Skin Hauler and past out while he’s pumping me.

The cop has me untied and uncuffed while he’s slapping me. He tells me to wake up. I open my eyes to see a gun pointed into my face. He tells me again that if I mention this to anyone than I’m a dead man. He gets dressed and pistol whips me on the way out. I get knocked back into the bunk as he mumbles that I’m a bad lay and a cheap slut. I rub my face and stay on my stomach in the bunk. I rub the badly cut stubble on my head and feel powerless. I need to go home. The only place that I felt was home was in Tyler’s arms.

I wait for a long time, before I get off of the bunk. I stumble the short distance to the cockpit and reach for the QualComm keyboard. I type in a free form message to Omaha that I need help. I’m too sore to sit down and too battered to drive. I’m still bleeding. Omaha says they’ll send help as soon as possible. I drag the QualComm with me to the sleeper and collapse onto the bunk.

I swim in and out of conscientious and think about Tyler McGraw. I dream that he’s holding me in his arms and telling me to hold on. I can smell his scent and feel his breathe on my neck. He picks me up and carries me. I kiss him deeply. The pain melts away. His blue eyes stare into my soul and we tell each other that we love each other. I’m not sore anymore, so he sets me on my feet. We slow dance with each other and kiss passionately.

I hear ambulance sirens in the distance, but a voice cold voice says, “Damn it boy I told you not to tell anyone.” Shit