SkinMarvin Gay Stories

The light blue Freightliner Classic XL is flying down Interstate 40 across the forests of North Carolina. Its twin chrome stacks shine in the afternoon sun. She is numbered Truck 26102 a brand new 1998 model with a 70 inch high roof sleeper. Her Detroit Diesel engine purrs as the Skinhead behind her wheel smoothly operates her with the precision of a surgeon. His arms bulge, and sweat lightly covers his muscular body. His hard looking face is pieced (septum and bridge), as is his ears. He has plugs on both sides and five rings on his left ear, one ring on the right ear. His left arm is sleeved, while his knuckles are tat-ed with “SKIN” on the right and “HEAD” on the left. His upper right arm is tat-ed with the words, “Blue Collar for Life”. The back of his skull is tat-ed with his CB handle, “Skin Hauler”, which his skinhead brothers gave him.

I first met Skin Hauler fifteen days earlier at Fontana, Terminal in California. He’s one hell of a trucker, skinhead, and a sexy fuckin’ bastard. At 6’2”, 246 lbs (all muscle), blond hair (eyebrows and arm pits only), deep blue eyes, and 9 inch uncut cock, he’d make the perfect Nazi. Only, he don’t swing that way. I light two cigarettes and hand one to Skin Hauler. He slaps the shaved side my head hard, so I bite his arm. The rig sways a little, but Skin Hauler has it under control. We both laugh, continue to smoke, and call each other names. Fag, queer, slut, homo, white trash, nip, honky, slant eyed bastard, red neck, nig'ger, skin, punk, jock, rich kid, pig fucker, Chink, Irish potato fucker, Spic, Cowboy, Injun, whore, asshole, bastard, shit head, mother fucker, it just goes on and on, until Tyler slaps me across the head again. I slap his bald head and notice that his bleached tight Wrangler can barely contain his growing bulge.

I flick the cigarette butt out the window, and rub my own tent pole that is sticking out of my tan ripped shorts. I climb out of second chair and get on my knees between the two seats and behind the shifter. I reach over to Skin Hauler and undo his jeans. I pull down his jock strap and his hard dick springs out like a switch blade. Skin Hauler groans a little. He runs his right hand thru my stiff 7 inch green hawk and holds the wheel with his left hand. I lean into his musky crotch and put my lips onto the head of his penis. I start to suck on his dip stick. I try to get Skin Hauler fully into my mouth and throat, but it’s hard as hell. I continue to blow him for about seven minutes when I hit my head on the steering wheel. Skin Hauler swears when I stop for a moment, he is about to cum. His enlarged head is dripping with Precum and I quickly lick it up and try to suck sperm outta him. The super slab is rough on I-40, just outside of Durham, North Carolina. I slip and choke as his full length is forced into my mouth by the pot holes on the freeway. Skin Hauler pulls me by my hawk and throws me off of him. Tyler cruses, cause I accidentally cut him when I slipped. He tells me to git back in second char, now ain’t a fuckin’ good time.

Gripping the arm rest and seats I manage to climb and stumble my way into 2nd chair. McGraw pulls up his jock and jeans. We entered a construction zone with heavy traffic flowing around our blue Werner Express rig. Tyler is swearing up a storm, since he switched to his native Texas dialect as face and neck turn red in anger. I’m getting angry too. This is the first time, since that shower in Arizona that I’ve tried to suck Skin Hauler off. He is just as sexually frustrated as I’ am. During the last 12 days and trips 2 to 9 all we’d done is run hard. I would drive and then he would drive. One of us was in the bunk, while the other drove. Sometimes, Tyler would sit in 2nd chair and give me instructions. It’s been a great learning experience as far as the operation of a big rig goes, but sex wise both of us are horny as hell. Hell we could both use some pussy or at least a BJ from each other. Maybe, more if I feel like crossing the line.

The longer I spent time with Skin Hauler the stronger the attraction grows. I can’t tell if I like this feeling or not. I consider myself to be straight (or straight acting), but over the last week there’s a small part of me that is growing bigger and bigger. I sit back into the comfortable air ride seat and look out the window at traffic. A cute college girl in a red BMW 328 iC convertible starts to pass us on the right. She looks up at me and smiles. I smile back and she slows down a little. Skin Hauler looks over and watches me as I take off my studded denim vest and shirt off. The BMW girl smiles and winks at me. I flex my tattooed arm and she whistles. Skin Hauler laughs and grabs the mic to the CB radio. She flashes her tits and guns her BMW weaving in and out of traffic.

Skin Hauler talks into the mic: West bound I-40 hooter shot at yard stick 167, ‘98 red BMW 328 iC.
Driver: Copy. Damn she’s fine. Hey, Swift, CRST, blond in a red Beemer coming up on the granny lane.
CRST: Hot Damn, Cal Ark. She done flashed my co-driver.
Swift: Fuck, she didn’t flash me.
CRST: That’s cu'z you’re fat and drive a Swift truck.
Swift: Bullshit.
Cal Ark: Hey, Weiner Wagon got your ears on?
Skin H: 10-4.
Cal Ark: Switch to 15.
Skin H: Switching to 15. Cal Ark ya’ll thair?
Cal Ark: 10-4, you the skinhead or the punk?
Skin H: SKINHEEEEAD
Cal Ark: Hey I passed you a while back before the construction. That your co-driver or a hitch hiker?
Skin H: Co-driver.
Cal Ark: How long you and your co-driver been out?
Skin H: 12 days. How ‘bout you?
Cal Ark: 6 weeks.
Skin H: Long time.
Cal Ark: So, do you or your co-driver want to make an extra forty right now.
Skin H: No, I don’t dance backward.
Cal Ark: Could have fooled me. Seriously how about fifty?
Skin H: Ain’t gonna happen faggit.
Cal Ark: Sixty.
Skin H: I ain’t a fuckin’ faggit, asshole.
Cal Ark: Not you your co-driver.
Skin H: He’s not for sale. PULL YOUR PIECE OF SHIT RIG OVER AND I’LL KICK YOUR ASS.
Cal Ark: Chill, man. I was just teasing. Hey, punk if you every see this rig knock on my door any time. Switching back to 19 (Channel 19 is for standard truck to truck communications).
Skin H: Fucking queers.
Punk: What the fuck was that. I don’t remember seeing a Cal Ark truck passing us.
Skin H: That’s cause your faggot ass mouth was busy.
Punk: Asshole.

Skin Hauler is pissed and red again. I can feel and smell the heat rising from his hard body. He turns the CB back to 19 and we listen to Swift and CRST still rip into each other. We laugh at them and we each light up. I change the CD in the player and put on the Business. Traffic thins out and we cruise along I-40 at a steady 62 mph. Cal Ark exits in Whitsett, NC to park at the TA. We continued on and Skin Hauler increases to 69 mph. I look over the paperwork and our routing. We picked up at a plant in Dunn, NC and are bound for Santa Ana, CA. On board is 16,000 lbs of furniture, so weight isn’t a problem. With breaks it should take about 43 hours more or less. We have 60 hours to make the delivery, so time shouldn’t be a problem. Routing is easy; we stay on I-40 across the U.S. until it dead ends at I-15. I-15 south to CAL 60 West, 60 to CAL 57 south, 57 to I-5 south, and into the heart of Santa Ana.

I looked up at Tyler McGraw we lock eyes for a split second, he has to turn away to watch the road. I think I love him. His eyes say it all. In the fading light of a North Carolina sunset, his eyes glow a little, giving them the color of a pure Caribbean Sea. I love staring into them and getting lost in them. It’s like I can see deep into his soul. He’s hurting inside. I know that feeling, because I’ve felt a similar pain. We don’t really talk about it and frankly I’ve never mentioned it to anyone. American society, long ago abandoned us by rejecting us. But, this is deeper than that. There’s something else in there. Tyler tells me to climb into the back and git some sleep. I quickly comply.

I take my 10 hole Grip Fast boots and socks off and leave them in the cockpit (our name for the cab). I close the curtain and unbuckle my belt. I move my sleeping bag onto the bottom bunk (due to US regs the top bunk must be empty while the truck is in motion and a safety harness must be used). I pull down my shorts slowly, fold them, and place them onto the top bunk. I take off my tighty whities and move into my sleeping bag. I turn off the rear speakers and open the rear windows and vents. It’s nice and warm tonight. I smell the Carolina hills and day dream a little. I picture Tyler’s face, his strong jaw lines, crooked nose that’s been broken in several fights, his electric blue eyes, and his smooth shaven head. I lean back and think about the taste of his mouth; God I sound like a fuckin’ chick. I try not to think of him and like most team drivers I don’t use the harness and fall asleep naked after a few miles.

I wake up over five and a half hours later, and I can tell that the truck is idling some where. I check the clock and notice that it’s close to midnight. I get up, cause I gotta piss. I’m half asleep and push my way through the curtains. I slip into my boots and climb out of the truck. My eyes finally focus and I see that were in a rest area. I, also realize that I don’t have any clothes on. Its dark and deserted except for a few other rigs, so I say fuck it and walk toward the back of the trailer, across the short lane and into the bushes. I’m too busy pissing and my head is still full of sleep. I don’t hear the hiss of airbrakes being released and I’m too sleepy to realize that a truck is moving. I finish watering the plants and shake it a few times. I get a hard on as the moon light shines on my dick. My hands run up my six-pack and up to my chest. I turn around and start to walk back to the truck.

I walk to where the truck should be and my blood turns cold. I’m instantly awake. Oh fuck, did I leave the curtain open when I climb out. That was our sign for when the driver in the sleeper leaves the tractor. Oh shit. I forgot to open the curtain. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m naked except for my boots. Shit. I run to the phones and start to dial Tyler’s cell phone. I reach down for my wallet. Fuck, I don’t have a wallet or nothing. Fuck, I drop the phone and run into the men’s room. I splash water on my face I need to clear my head. I look at myself in the mirror. I must look like a complete psychopath with only my ‘hawk up, a raging hard on, tattoos, and unlaced boots. I force myself to calm down by slapping my own face. I leave a red mark.

One, I need to call Tyler before he gets to far away. No, step one I need to figure out where I’m at. Two, I need to call Tyler. Three, find clothes. Four, stop panicking, even if I’m in the middle of no where. With my head clear I run over to the rest area information board. I find out that I’m in Tennessee at the Buffalo Valley Rest Area near the 267 yard stick. I breathe deeply and run to the pay phones, my heart is racing. I place a collect call to Tyler’s cell phone. It doesn’t connect. The damn things never work unless you’re in or near a city, fuck (that’s 1998 for yah). I check the lot again. I’m looking for a Werner Express truck. If I can find one I can sent a message to via QualComm the new satellite system.

There are only two trucks in the lot. Neither are Werner trucks, fuckin’ god damn it. I run back to the phone and place an 800 toll free call to Werner’s main office. It’s an automated system. Shit, what’s the night dispatch’s number? A car pulls into the lot and I run into the men’s room I lock myself into one of the stalls. What the hell am I doing? I need fuckin’ help. I swallow my pride, unlock the stall and walk out of men’s room. I headed back toward to phones to try calling Omaha HQ again. I notice that there were a few more cars in the lot, but still no Werner truck. I went thru the menu choices, five minutes later I got a hold of night dispatch.

The night dispatcher took down my information and sent a message to truck 26102 to turn around and come back and get me. I she stays on the line and we talk for a while. She laughs when she finds out that I only have my boots on. I turn red and say it isn’t funny. She tells me that in a year or two it will be funny. She tells me about the time she got stuck in the mud and we laugh about that. My left hand instinctively strokes my dick. She was once a driver and just recently, became a dispatcher. After three minutes she gets a reply from 26102. He has turned around and is coming as fast as possible to pick me up.

A loud voice tells me to freeze and put my hands up. Ah shit. A bright light is shined on me. I ask her to stay on the line. I drop the phone and I’m ordered to turn around slowly. It’s a full grown bear. The Tennessee Highway Patrol Officer and his partner laugh and order me to the ground as they handcuff me. They question me and call me a pervert for making a phone call in the nude. I tell them what happened and they don’t believe me. So, I tell one of ‘em to pick up the phone, because I was talking to night dispatch. Bear 2 picks up the phone and questions my night dispatcher. Bear 1 puts one of his boots on my back and asks if I’m on drugs. He questions me as a few more late night travelers come into the rest area and watch the naked punk on the ground. I’ve still got a hard-on as the small crowd builds.

Bear 1 is roughly the same size as me. He hauls me up off the ground, now I’m covered in dirt, grass, and leaves. He slaps my ass as he puts me in the back of the cruiser and climbs into the front seat. He says he likes ‘em young. He radios his dispatcher about what’s going on. He turns around and says that maybe they ought to do a body cavity search with an evil grin. I don’t like the look on his face. Bear 2 gets in and tells him that we need to wait a few minutes. He types in the information that my night dispatcher gave him into the onboard computer. I lean forward and watch the screen as my data appears. Bear 1 says that it doesn’t say anything about a green Mohawk. He wants to take me in as a nut job. Bear 2 says that he matches the description and tells Bear 1 that his co-driver is on the way back. Besides the same thing happened last week, except the stranded team driver had his clothes on. Bear 1 continues to taunt me especially, since Bear 2 steps outside to smoke.

Sometime later I’m happy to see Truck 26102 pull into the rest area. I’m still hard, for Bear 1 kept talking trash to me. He sees the cruiser and parks in a near by spot. After he climbs down, I notice that Skin Hauler is pissed off. He has my shorts and t-shirt in his hands. He pulls out both his CDL and my CDL and hands them to the officers after a quick computer check they are verified. Bear 1 opens the back door uncuffs me and hands me my clothes. I get dressed in the back of the cruiser. Just as I’m getting out Bear 1 tells me that I’m lucky that they’re letting me off with a warning. His eyes are filled with lust and he grips his Billy club tightly.

Skin Hauler sees this and his face tightens and turns red. Bear 1 sees this and smirks, he puts his arm on me and whispers shit into my ear. Skin Hauler’s fists ball up. Shit, homeboys gonna git thrown into jail if he attacks that cop. I slip out of the cops grasp and grab Skin Hauler and turn him around. As we walk back to the truck Skin Hauler puts his arm around me. He slowly lowers it, until he grabs my ass. We get to the rig and before I can climb up. He kisses me. His tongue thrusts its way deep into my throat. He tastes awesome. Skin Hauler climbs up into the tractor. I follow him up, but stop on the running board and I turn around for a second.

The bear is staring at me. His tongue is hanging out of his mouth. Skin Hauler sticks head out of the cab and passionately kisses me again, while grabbing my crotch. I notice that the cop is turning red and getting pissed. Skin Hauler, also sees this and hand runs up and down my body. Bear 2 taps Bear 1 on the shoulder they get into their cruiser. Bear 1 looks up angrily at Skin Hauler gives him the finger just before driving off. Skin Hauler has a huge grin on face he pulls me into the truck 26102. He pushes me into 1st chair and we make out.
Skin H: You stupid son of a bitch. When you git outta the sleeper you leave the got damn curtain open. (He takes off his boots and socks.) Fuck from now on leave the fuckin’ curtain open, stupid dumb fuckin’ cocksucker.
Punk: Fuck dude I’m sorry I forgot.
Skin H: Forgot. You fuckin’ forgot. Shit, from now on leave the curtain open like I do.
Punk: Ok. Hey thanks.
Skin H: For what?
Punk: For coming back.
Skin H: Yeh, well hell I ain’t letting some hillbilly, Cumberland, cop be the first to pound that tight virgin ass of yours. (He slaps my head) That fucker was gonna make you his bitch, asshole.
Punk: Fuck.
Skin H: Well, git driving, I need some got damn sleep. And it’s been fourteen days, so the night band on fuckin’ rookies is lifted.

Skin Hauler climbs into the sleeper. He leaves the curtain open and moves my sleeping bag to the top bunk. I start to fill out my log onto Quail Call. I watch Skin Hauler take off his sweat soaked wife beater, revealing his 8-pack stomach. He takes his skin tight cowboy cut wranglers off with his boxers. He strokes his semi-hard uncut cock and climbs onto the lower bunk. He barks at me to git goin’ and I fire up the engine. I hear him moan over the roar of the diesel. I release the airbrakes and put her in gear. Skin Hauler grunts and moan loudly, the bastard. I miss a couple of gears and he laughs. I get us up to speed and cruise along I-40 in the middle of a Tennessee night. He sneaks up on me and slaps my head with his 9” hard-on. I swerve a little Skin Hauler laughs and climbs back into the sleeper. He continues to jerk off and the moaning and groaning intensify. I light up a red and try to concentrate on the road.

I drive all night long and into the morning. I pass through the Guitar (Nashville) and Mud Island (Memphis) without any assistance and just barely missing morning rush hour. I just drive and drive, changing CDs every now and then. I take two breaks that morning, but most of my time is spent in the saddle. I smoke a Marlboro red every 50 miles or so. The wind feels good as it flows over my body. The sun has risen and blinds me when I look into the mirrors. The scenery changes a little as we enter the southern plains. Tennessee was sort of hilly with forest and rolling farmland. Arkansas is flatter than Tennessee, but still has lots of trees. It’s a lot different from the desert state where I grew up. The chicken houses (weight stations/border crossings) flash us by, thanks to PrePass. I feel free and in control of my destiny for once, since I don’t have a boss looking over my shoulder or have a clock to punch. All I’ve got is the highway stretching out in front of me. I like that feeling, hell it’s like I’m not really working. My thoughts run wild as I drive. That’s all that this job is about. It’s all about driving on the never ending journey.

I stop at the Petro truck stop in North Little Rock, AR for my third break that morning. It’s, also a Werner Express fuel stop. There is a line of Trucks at the pumps. Swift, MS Carriers, Knight, CRST, Schneider National, CFI, the list goes on and on. Tyler wakes up and gets dressed quickly. He slides into 2nd chair and lights up a red. He picks up Quail Call and puts me onto Line 1 (break outside of truck). He tells me not together to do that, while we wait, so I don’t lose anymore drive time. I agree and light up a cigarette. About twenty minutes later I finally pull up to the pump. Tyler hands me the Werner fuel card, and a Petro card. I enter them into the machine and fuel the truck, while Tyler washes the bugs off the windows and mirrors. We finish up and Tyler goes inside after telling me to park the rig, get the ticket, and meet him in the restaurant.

I pick up the fuel ticket at the Fuel Desk, stop to use the shitter, and walk over to the restaurant. Tyler is at the counter I sit next to him. He tells me that he all ready ordered. We talk with the other drivers at the counter. I flirt with the waitress just, she’s alright, but not really my type. She strokes the hawk a few times. Meanwhile, Tyler rubs his 20 hole black docs against my 10 hole oxblood grips. I smile and the waitress thinks it’s for her, as do the other drivers. I’m the youngest one thair, so everyone gets a kick at watch the young stud driver work it. The drivers talk about trucks, bears (cops not gay fat men), and life in general. Tyler ordered a chicken fried steak platter for himself and me. The plate contains two chicken fried steaks, three sunny sides up eggs, fried potatoes, and greasy bacon on it. I can feel my arteries clog up just looking at it. He tells me to eat up, it might be days before we git a hot meal again. He tells me that I need to bulk up and quit being a pussy.

Tyler picks up the bill and we head back to the rig. I parked in the back of the lot, so we light up and head for the back. We walk between flatbeds, auto haulers, and vans. Tyler tells me never walk between cattle haulers, unless I want animal shit and piss all over me. I’m leading the way between two Kenworth with reefers (refrigerated) trailers, when a fist comes flying at my face. I get knocked back into Skin Hauler who catches me.

“Fuckin’ faggots,” yell a big fat trucker. He’s dirty and greasy, wearing grubby overalls. Two truckers step out from the rear of the reefers; they’re both smaller than me. Two more big goons slide out from under the trailers. They are both fuckin’ bigger than Skin Hauler. We’re locked in a pincer attack. Fuck, I stand up and face off against the three in front of us. Skin Hauler, faces the two behind. “Five to two, I like ‘em odds,” states Skin Hauler. The assholes start to call us names, like queer, cocksucker, bastards, faggot, etc. The big fat driver in front of me says he saw what happened last night. He’s called us out and says that faggots don’t belong behind the wheel of 18 wheelers. I tell ‘em that he has a problem with fags, because he is one. He rushes at me.

I kick him in the nuts and he goes down. The two skinny dudes attack at the same time. One has a John Deere hat on and the other wears a CFI shirt. I hit one in the face he stumbles back, but his buddy catches me in the gut. I get the wind knocked out of me for a second. CFI kicks at my balls, I jump back and he gets my thigh. Damn these little dudes can move. JD gets me in a head lock from behind, CFI lands a punch to my gut. I’m ready for it, so it doesn’t knock the wind out of me. CFI hits my face. I head butt JD, he screams and releases me. CFI lands a punch to my arm. I punch him in the nose and quickly follow with an upper cut him. He goes flying. JD kicks my ass. I just laugh, and hit him with a flying round house.

Big boy recovers and rushes at me again. He knocks me to the ground and tries to choke me. I try to knee him, but instead I hit his huge gut. His massive hands and griped around my neck. I can’t breathe. I keep kicking him, but that doesn’t work. His hands are like steel from gripping a steering wheel all day. I work my hand up to his face. I poke him in the eye. He screams and releases me. I get out from under him. I knock him down. I kick him in the sides my steel toes smack against his fat flesh. I like the sound that they make. I kick him in the nuts again and he passes out.

John Deere tries to rush me, instead I jump kick at his head and knock him out. CFI has a pipe in his hands stares at me with hate. I raise my fists and say come on. His head is moving from side to side and his eyes grow wide. I don’t look back as a hand gently rests on my shoulders. CFI looks down at his fallen brothers and himself. His nose is bleeding. He drops the pipe and runs. The hand moves up to my shaved scalp and rubs it. I look back, slowly it’s Skin Hauler. He just shakes his head and says we need to get out of here. I nodded and we run to the rig. I look back and see four fag bashers on the ground. Skin Hauler doesn’t have a scratch on him. I’m bleeding a little, but Skin Hauler looks at me proudly.
Skin H: Fuck that was quick. Fuckin’ amateurs, bet they’ve n’ver bin ‘n a fuckin’ fight before. Move over asshole I’m drivin’. And don’t get blood all over the cockpit.
Punk: Fuck, hand me the first aide kit, it’s on your side. (He hands it to me.)
Skin H: Fuck, dog. You ought shave that fuckin’ head of yours and go skin HEAD!
Punk: Fuck, no. I love this fuckin’ hawk. I’ll shave it once my hair falls out and I can’t carry a hawk. (Tyler puts the rig in gear, while I log myself on Line 3 Driving)
Skin H: Fuck, ya’ll more like a skin than a punk.
Punk: Yah, fucker I know, but fuck it. Damn, does this shit go down like this all the time?
Skin H: No, the damn world is fuckin’ changing. Truckin’ use to be a fuckin’ brotherhood. What the fuck? Trucker attacking Trucker, shit. See anyone following us? Fuckin’ fag bashers.
Punk: No. (I continue clean my cuts and bruises) And I ain’t a fag.
Skin H: Bullshit, you’re just as gay as me fucker.
Punk: Nah, I’m bi, maybe.
Skin H: Bullshit, give me a fuckin’ kiss. (I kiss him and he grabs my crotch)
Punk: Mmmmmm
Skin H: (pushing me back) See that fucker, you’ve got a hard-on. Ya fuckin’ sub.
Punk: Fuck.
Skin H: Someday boy, I’m gonna make a Skin outta ya’ll. (We laugh.)

We roll down the big road at 69 mph. I look at myself in the side mirrors. Fuck, looks like I’m gonna have a black eye. I think about what Skin Hauler says. Yeah, I must be fuckin’ gay. Although I don’t like that word cause it sounds kinda weak. Fuck it. Damn, how did I get, so fuckin’ damn emotional, I wasn’t always like this, fuck. I look over at Skin Hauler. I wonder what he’s thinking? He’s rubbing his jaw and he looks a little pissed. I check my reflection and I look pissed. Damn, we have to be more careful. Shit, I light up a cigarette.

I must have dosed off, I hear the gears down shift and the rig slows down. I look out and notice that we’re pulling off into a rest area. Skin Hauler is tried and sweating a little. He parks and climbs down. I lock up the truck and join Skin Hauler in the men’s room. I finished pissing when Skin Hauler comes out of one of the stalls. He grabs me and we make out hard. I press my tongue down his throat and taste breakfast, cigarettes, and whiskey? I don’t remember him drinking recently. Fuck it. He pulls me into the handicap stall and locks the door.

He pushes me against the wall and pulls my shorts down. I’m only 5 inches when I’m hard. My cut cock with its wide head stands straight out. Skin Hauler pulls up my shirt. His hands pull on my nipples. They rub my six-pack and work their way to my ass. He grabs onto it and pulls me toward his mouth. I grip the rail with my right hands and my left hand grabs his head. I like the feel of Skin Hauler’s shaved head. We haven’t showered in a few days, so it’s like sand paper. Precum is dripping out of my dick. Skin Hauler stops and we kiss. I taste myself on his lips. Skin Hauler checks his watch, and he says shit we have to roll. He sucks me off and I cum.

Skin Hauler tells me to drive the last of my remaining time. He says to wake me up in Henryetta, Oklahoma. I start up the rig and drive hard. I-40 is rough through western Arkansas, due to a poor tax base and corrupted government. I hear Skin Hauler snoring in the back. I chase the sun, fly pass a few weight stations and cross the state line into Oklahoma. The forest of the South, have changed into the flat Great Plains. Granted there are a few sparse stunned trees here and there. But, the plains are a different land from the South or Northeast. My mind wanders and I light the last Marlboro in my pack. I pilot the Freightliner Classic XL in the late morning sun.

When we get to the Citgo station/truck stop in Henryetta, OK, we both use the rest room and switch places. I get another pack out of my stash of cigarette cartons. The Carolinas have cheap smokes, so we loaded up on Marlboros went we could. I sit in 2nd and open a new pack, flipping one as the lucky last cigarette. Skin Hauler filled his mug of coffee and catches up his log. He nods at me and we take off. We stopped for less than 10 minutes. Skin Hauler wants to put some miles between us and Little Rock, except for that fifteen minute break we took for him to suck me off.

Skin Hauler reaches over and slaps my head. His hand rubs his crotch. I rise out of 2nd chair and stand up between the two seats. I pull Skin Hauler’s wife beater up; he raises his arms of for a few seconds. I pull the wife beater off. I massage his shoulders and neck. His prick is struggling against so much against the denim that I can see its head. My hands move up and down his chest. I play with his nipple rings. Skin Hauler growls and bites my arm when it gets close to his face. He draws blood, and I feel myself grow. I take my shirt off. Skin Hauler barks at me.

I get down on my knees and unbutton Skin Hauler’s jeans. I push them down part way, so he can still drive. I rub his jock. The white stained Bike jock strap can is fully loaded. I lick it and Skin Hauler gasps. The rig veers to the shoulder, the rumble strips thud loudly. I stop licking Skin Hauler. He curses at me and tells me to keep going. He edges the rig back into the granny lane. A driver on the radio asks if we’re okay. Skin Hauler grabs the mic and says that he spilled his coffee. The truck behind us says he done that before. His jock tastes like stale piss, Precum, and his natural musk which is two days ripe. I pull down his jock and his dick hits my face. Skin Hauler laughs. I lean in closer and lick his base. Precum is running down his long shaft. I lick it up. I move lower and suck on his golf ball sized nuts. Skin Hauler groans and his right hand grabs the back of my head. He guides me up to his large mushroom shaped head. I open my mouth as wide as possible and suck his dick. I start off slowly and build up faster and faster. Skin Hauler calls me a dirty slut. He calls me a fag, queer, cocksucker, shit head, on and on. I get a rise out of it when he talks dirty to me. He moves my head faster and faster. I reach up roll the base of his dick in a circular motion. I still can’t take in his whole dick and he wants me to finish quickly. A car cuts off our rig. I hit the steering wheel and Skin Hauler sounds the air horn. The car flies down an off ramp and Skin Hauler yells swear words at ‘em. I go back down on him and I can feel his dick throbbing in my mouth. His Precum taste good to me. I like the taste of Skin Hauler when he’s dirty. I move my mouth up and down his 9 inch tree trunk as fast as possible. I simultaneously jerk him off, while sucking his dick.

Ten miles later, he cums into my mouth. I manage not to choke this time and swallow his loads. Skin Hauler pulls me up when he’s done shooting and kisses me quickly. He tells me to git in the back and git some sleep. I enter the sleeper and drop my shorts. I put on my dirty Fruit of the Loom tighty whities and take 2nd chair. Skin Hauler tells me we need to stop at a Walmart or Target. He says I need a jock or some sexy underwear. He slaps my head. I pull out my penis and masturbate, in 2nd chair. I’m kind of small, so I either use a circular motion or my favorite a western grip. I turn my hand so my thumb is facing me and I stoke my stubby dick. Skin Hauler watches me and gets hard again. We both jerk off. Skin Hauler uses his left hand (he switch hits too) to stoke the beast. I feel funny jerking off in front of Skin Hauler, but he licks his lips and keeps the 18 wheeler moving in a straight line. Good thing I-40 in Oklahoma is flat and straight as my dick. We both cum into our underwear. I exit 2nd chair and take the bottom bunk. I’m sore and tired, so sleep comes easily.

Hey fucker, WAKE UP. We’re in fuckin’ Gallup, New Mexico. “I just drove 727 miles, fucker.” I slowly open up my eyes. Skin Hauler tells me that I’ve been out for over eleven hours. My head hurts a little and its night time. Fuck, I smell bad. I crock that I need a shower. Skin Hauler bear hugs me and sniffs my rank pits. “Fuck NO! You fuckin’ smell great.” He forces his tongue down my throat. We are both turned on. “Got damn I want to fuck you right now,” he whispers into my ear. Skin Hauler throws me onto his bunk and deep throats me. He starts to lick my body working his way down to my crotch. He sniffs me and licks me. I get hard, but it’s just a tease. He pushes me off of him and tells me to get dressed. We got a load to deliver and he promises to fuck my brains out when we git her done. I pull on my dirt clothes and head into the TA truck stop. I piss, shit, and get a cup of coffee.

I do a quick vehicle inspection and climb up into 26102. Since, it’s early morning and the pumps are pretty much empty except for a C.R. England truck, we’re parked in the holding area, behind the pumps. I catch up my log and notice that Skin Hauler drove for an hour on my clock. I check the sleeper and Skin Hauler is already asleep in the nude. Damn, even with the foreskin he still looks well hung. I adjust my boys and fire up the rig. I drive the short 16 miles into Arizona the weight station is closed, so I give it full throttle and turns up the super slab.

Skin Hauler tosses and turns in the bunk. I glance back at him when ever I can. When I do, I get a stiffy. Yup, I must be gay. Well, at least when it comes to Skinheads. I smoke and drive across the desert. The sun joins me several hundred miles later and half way across Arizona. I-40 gets hilly in northern Arizona, especially near Flagstaff. The highway is tree lined and the mountains are green this time of year. I light up and watch the world go by my windshield. The Freight Shaker is holding up well and all systems are green. The miles fly by and before I know it we hit the California/Arizona border. Skin Hauler wakes up when he hears me talking to the Bug Station officers (produce inspection). They hand back the load papers and welcome me back to California.

Skin Hauler takes 2nd chair necked and scratches his balls, while lighting a Marlboro. We talk and I drive us across the desert. Skin Hauler sees that I’m hard, so he unbuttons my shorts. He stokes my cock and I nearly loose control of the rig. He stops and says that I need more fuckin’ practice. I call him a cunt and a tease. We yell shit back and fro at each. Skin Hauler gets in the sleeper and comes back out in the same clothes that he’s been wearing for the last three or four days. I lost count. We both need a shower, but I’m finding that I like it well Skin Hauler smells bad. I drive harder and harder. Until, I run out of hours by the time we reach Barstow, CA.

Skin Hauler takes over at the Rip Griffin (now a TA) and continues Trip 10 into southern California. We break the double nickel limit for big trucks in California, blow by the weight stations, and roll as fast as we can to make the delivery early. When we get a cell single I call the receiver and ask if we can deliver a half day early. He says that’s great, since they really need this load. I get a second set of directions from the consignee and relay everything to Skin Hauler. He has me compare the directions and they are similar. I sit back and take a nap.

I wake up when we arrive at a warehouse in Santa Ana, California. The load isn’t a drop and hook, so we have to wait for the staff to unload, the trailer. There get us done in two hours. Skin Hauler sends in the empty trailer message and states that we aren’t ready for another load, since both of us are almost out of hours. He asks dispatch if we can dead head to the yard, so we can layover for a day or two and gain hours (workable hours are limit to a total of 70 in an eight day period). Dispatch answers immediately to deadhead to Fontana Terminal.

Skin Hauler drives the truck to the yard. An hour later we get in line and enter the Werner Express yard. We drop off the empty trailer after getting a safety inspection. Skin Hauler parks us in the bobtail parking area along the fence. He puts himself on Line one, off-duty. He looks at me like a starving man and licks his chops. I stare into his eyes. They are enraged, and I shudder in excitement. He tackles me, pushing me half way out the window. I bite his lip drawing blood it, his bulge grows. I push him off of me and say to wait a minute. I close my window. Skin Hauler rolls up the driver’s side and I turn on the air. He gets in the sleeper and closes all the window and vents. I turn on the air and check the engine RPMs. I turn around and tackle Skin Hauler just as he puts the top bunk into the stored position. I knock him into the padded vinyl light gray walls. He calls me a son of a bitch.

He knocks me into the side wall and pins me. I head butt him and he grabs my throat. He chokes me and I struggle, he slaps me on the head and kisses me. I punch him and he punches me. We fight and wrestle for 10 minutes, until we’re good and sweaty. Skin Hauler pulls my shirt over my head, like in hockey. I still try to swing at him. He head butts me hard and I fall back onto the bunk. I’m dazed, so Skin Hauler takes my shirt off and rips my shorts off. I still have my boots on, so we’re breaking one of the rules of the tractor. Skin Hauler leaves my FTDs on and he takes off his boots and clothes except his jock. He puts his unlaced boots back on and jumps on me. He licks my nipples and works his way down to my crotch. He licks and sniffs my dirty underwear. I smell his dirty body and get hard. My white briefs are stretched tight across my less than average dick. I moan and groan. Precum oozes out of my cut head, and leaks through the briefs.

Skin Hauler pulls my briefs down and my dick shoots out. He sucks my dick, stopping just when I’m about to cum. He tells me not to cum. He pulls my nipples and I grunts and cuss at him. He starts to suck me again, only he slips his fingers into my mouth and I suck on them. I’m about cum, so he licks my balls. His finger finds its way to my ass. He slips it into my asshole and I pucker. He moves his finger in and out slowly stretching it open he tells me to relax and talks dirty to me. His second finger enters my rectum and I groan loudly. He fingers me. At first it felt weird, but the more he does it the more it feels good. His third finger enters, then his fourth. I’m hard as fuck and in complete ecstasy. He turns me over and tells me that this will hurt at first, but I will like it. He lubes his dick and my rectum. He gives me his jock the chew on. My heart stops when his dick starts to probe my virgin ass. I try to relax, but I don’t let him in.

Skin Hauler slaps my ass he yells at me to relax. He says fuck it and plows right in. I scream and bite into his jock. His monster dick hurts like hell as he moves it in and out. It feels like he split me in two. Skin Hauler bites my back, after awhile it starts to feel good. I feel full with his dick up my ass. I bite harder into his jock. I move with him I spit out the jock and cuss at him. I call him a redneck, so he slaps my ass. I call him a kike pig fuckin’ Nazi bastard, he bites me drawing blood. I call him a limp dick ugly mother fuckin’ white trash pussy; he pumps me harder, slaps my head and bites my ear. I scream like a bitch.

Skin Hauler moves faster and faster, pumping me, and slapping me. I call him a homo weak ass nig'ger. Skin Hauler screams at me calling me a bitch, a cock tease, and a big cunt. He cums into my ass, as he cusses at me. It feels fuckin’ great. We stop and he stays inside of me. We lay together as one being in the lower bunk. Tyler McGraw wraps his huge meaty arms around me. I feel safe in his arms. I like the smell of his hard body. I’m use to being the strong one having to fight and defend the people I love. I feel weird as Tyler whispers that he’ll protect me and love me forever. He asks me to be his Co-Driver. I kiss his hands. I feel like a different person. With Tyler I feel like I’m losing control and I’m scared. Fuck, when did I get, so god damn emotional. I’m a hard core fuckin’ punk, yet I sound like a chick. Fuck. Tyler what did you do to me. Tyler whispers that he loves me and I whisper to him that I love him. He falls asleep, after awhile so do I. Trip 10 is over and I’m honest to god fuckin’ happy for the first time, in a long fuckin’ time.