Chapter Two

The Trucker and his Sandwich

Peter wrapped himself up in five different blankets before he was warm enough to sleep. Clothes would have made him warmer, but he liked being able to reach down and tug at his dick whenever he wanted to. He liked the feel of skin against skin under the covers.

Today, he was to drive to Virginia to see his parents. His first semester of college just ended and his parents desperately wanted to see him. They called and they emailed. They even wrote, like actually wrote, pen to paper, the whole deal. He avoided returning for Thanksgiving but he needed their money to help pay for the apartment. So he had to make a trip to Virginia.

Peter awoke two hours late. After packing, he flew down the staircase like a whirlwind, dragging along five bags. Zach stopped Peter on his way out and invited him in for a bagel. Peter, irritated at being stopped, explained that he’d slept in and he needed to be on his way to his parents for Christmas and God forbid he was late. Zach’s smirk disappeared as he told Peter to hurry. Never taking a note of anyone else’s behavior, Peter rushed out into his car and quickly jumped onto I-278, leaving his Sunset Park apartment for longer than a day since he arrived.

Merging on to I-95, he sped off towards his family in Richmond, Virginia. Starting the seven hour drive, he put on Fall Out Boy and other music he liked. When Peter spent time with Zach in his apartment a few nights ago, Zach laughed at Peter’s taste in music, calling him angsty. Peter thought it was funny too until he caught Zach stealing his Fall Out Boy CD collection. Then it was just plain hilarious. Zach’s discomfort made Peter double over laughing.

A few albums later, Peter was only two hours away from Richmond. He had spent a lot of the time driving examining the origins of his many kinks. The rest of the time he sang very loudly and very badly to the songs.

It was growing dark out, nearing 6:00 pm, and he could not drive at night. He was supposed to be in town by now. Goddamnit Zach, he thought, why do you gotta ruin everything? Peter knew full well that it was his fault waking up two hours later, but chose to blame Zach because it made him feel better about himself. He pulled out his phone and dialed his mother. She finally picked up, clearly exasperated by his lack of time-management. He explained that he was going to stay at a hotel for the night as he pulled into Dale City Rest Stop South. His mother asked if she need to send some money and after telling her no many times, she finally hung up.

Parking the car, Peter laughed to himself. He wasn’t staying at a damn hotel. Why would he spend anyone’s money when there was a rest stop right here? He’d just sleep in the car. Some people can just be so extra, he thought.

He put his jacket and hat on and stepped out into the freezing parking lot. The wind was still and cold. Not many other cars were there, only about five. On the right side of the lot, the forest stood tall and dark, made even more so by the lamps in front of them shinning bright yellow lights on the asphalt. On the other side, the restrooms and snack area sat among a large lawn and a few trees.

Peter shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and briskly walked towards the snack area. It wasn’t much of a dinner, but hey, it wasn’t any different than his recent diet. Peter used to rigorously eat healthy food around the end of high school because he was trying to buff up before college. He succeeded in building quite a bit of muscle. His arms grew much larger, his chest started to fill out his shirts, and his abs became prominent but he fell off the wagon mid-semester due to stress among other things.  He still appeared to be muscular but truly straddled the line between defined and a tad squishy.

He looked at the row of machines, pondering what to get. There was an “out-of-order” sign on the Coke machine, so that ruled out any drink. There was a breakfast sandwich that seemed appealing. It had some bacon, probably the best thing he’d be able to get here. As he was staring at the machine, making sure this was what he was going to spend three dollars on, he saw someone out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over, Peter saw a man leaning in to read something three snack machines down. The man had beady eyes and a thick brown beard. Despite the freezing temperatures, he was only in jeans, a long sleeve shirt, a trucker cap and a windbreaker. Even so, he did not shiver. He did fill every inch of his clothes though. The man must have enormous thighs to make those jeans that tight, Peter thought.

The trucker turned to see Peter watching and gave a snarl. Peter, a tad bit uncomfortable, turned back to what he was doing. Trying to put it out of his mind, he began inserting his coins into the slot. The trucker, taking a few seconds to look each machine up and down, was now standing next to Peter pretending to examine the optional breakfast sandwiches.

“Hey,” he growled. “What sandwich are you gettin?” Peter looked at him, noticing the tufts of black chest hair peeking out between the top buttons of his shirt.

“I…uh… the bacon one,” Peter answered. The trucker grunted in acknowledgement.

“You know,” he said putting a hand on his chest. “I’m more of a sausage man myself.” His large calloused fingers slid between the buttons on his shirt.

Are you fucking serious? Peter thought, could he be any more obvious? He felt laughter coming on but was able to keep a straight face. “Yeah? I like sausage too.” The trucker smirked.

“Do you like bears?” He said raising an eyebrow. Jesus Christ¸ Peter thought, this guy needs to learn how to be more subtle.

“Yeah, especially with lots of hair.” Peter played along with the trucker. He hadn’t gotten to come last night and he desperately needed to. The trucker unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.

“Got lots of that, boy,” he said, “And I got a thing for twinks.” Peter narrowed his eyes.

“Hey, I’m not a twink,” he said. The trucker paused. A look came across his face like he was knocked out of a daze.

“You’re as skinny as a rail.”

“I have more muscle than you’d think,” Peter said.

“Yeah? Show me.” The trucker winked, and nodded over to the bathroom. He turned and began to walk towards it, the trucker following.

Peter followed him in. There were four urinals and four stalls in the bathroom but only three sinks. Two of the urinals were out of business and one of the stalls was roped off. Peter walked towards the stall in the back. The trucker followed and entered the stall, checking to see if anyone trailed him. There were five other cars after all. He locked the door.

They glanced at the glory hole in the wall then stood facing each other for a second before the bearded trucker reached over and began unbuttoning Peter’s jacket. Taking that off and his other two shirts, the bearded man grew surprised. He took note of the abs under a soft layer of fat, the thin chest muscles, and sinewy biceps.

“Huh, looks like you’re not a twink after all,” he said, “But you still ain’t got nothin on me.” The trucker started removing his clothing as Peter watched, but left on his cap. He had a large and hairy torso, not quite barrel-chested, but he was a thick man. His abs weren’t visible unless he flexed, but his chest protruded out like a lumber jack. His broad shoulders were naturally held back and his arms were slightly angled as if they couldn’t stretch the large biceps too far. “You got a nice body, but you look like a pussy next to me.”

Peter sighed, “You have one impressive physique.”

“I’m more than impressive,” he said. “Now get down and suck me off.”

“No, you get on the toilet; it’ll look like I’m pissing if anyone comes in.” The trucker grunted then stood up on the toilet, bending his torso forward as to not be seen above the stall. Peter quickly unbuckled the trucker’s belt and unzipped his jeans. As he did so, the trucker’s cock became visible. Peter pulled the pants, sliding them down the trucker’s gigantic thighs. As he did, the cock swung out nearly hitting Peter in the face.

“Suck it good, boy,” the trucker said.

"Yes, sir.” Peter answered.

“Can you take a monster cock this big?” he growled.

“I can try, sir,” he said then wrapped his mouth around the head, slightly stretching his lips, and moved forward.

The man’s back tightened and his head fell forward as his eyelids fluttered. “Ah..fuck.” Peter let the flaccid dick slide into his mouth, filling the empty area. He pulled his head back and bent around to reach the trucker’s balls. They were large and firm, covered in hair.

“That’s right pussy boy, suck those nuts,” he said, pushing his balls into Peter’s mouth. “awh, man,” He moaned and put his cap on backwards. Peter pulled back and ran his tongue along the underside of the trucker’s thick cock, and then wrapped his mouth around the girth. He moved his head back and forth, feeling the member grow. It grew harder and harder, thicker and thicker, until it was stretching his mouth open. If it got any bigger, Peter didn’t know if he could take it.

Peter continued to suck the trucker’s member and began running his hands up his furry belly. He reached the nipples and began playing with them. Pinching them, pushing them, pulling them. The man moaned as Peter twisted his chest hair.

“You like your daddy hairy, don’t you?” he said and sighed in pleasure. Then, he put his hand on the back of Peter’s head, keeping him still as the trucker thrust his manhood deeper into Peter’s mouth. Peter felt the trucker’s firm forearm with his hands, grasping tightly to his brown hair.

“Fucking Christ,” the trucker muttered as he thrust forwards and backwards, “take that monster cock.” As he fucked Peter’s mouth, Peter unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his erection. At the sight the trucker’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured. Peter began to stroke his rock hard cock, already ready to blow. The trucker suddenly felt a tightening in his balls and his lower abdomen so he let go of Peter’s head, adjusted his cap, and grabbed onto the top of the walls of the stall, his knuckles turning white.

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opened. The trucker quickly ducked, leaning his torso farther forward and slightly bending his knees. Peter started to pull off the trucker’s dick.

“Oh fuck no,” he said and pushed Peter’s head back onto his dick, “you’ll finish me, boy.” The door to the stall next to them opened, and the man entered. He sat down on the toilet seat and pulled his pants down, the belt hitting the tiled floor.

Ignoring the other man, Peter grabbed the base of the trucker’s manhood and went wild. Slurping that dick, he twisted his head right and left, going back and forth, circling the head with his tongue. The trucker’s dick twitched with each lick. Peter let go of the base, and grabbed the man’s ass, pulling it forward. The dick slipped farther and farther. Peter adjusted his head to allow the dick to slip into his throat. The trucker’s breathing was short and quick as he attempted to keep quiet and moan from pleasure at the same time. Peter’s nose was buried in the man’s dark pubes.

“Awh, yeah, smell those pubes. That’s what real men smell like,” the trucker whispered. Then, a deep growl escaped from his mouth as his cock began to pulse. Shot after shot, he filled Peter’s throat. Peter tried to swallow quickly, but the trucker kept cuming. His load filled Peter’s throat and began to spill out the corners, splattering onto the ground. Tears formed in Peter’s eyes as he could barely breathe.

Slowly, the trucker pulled out taking sharp breaths each time his cock twitched.

“So much for keeping quiet,” Peter said smirking. The trucker leaned down, grabbed Peter’s jaw and mashed his lips to Peter’s. He slurped up the cum around the mouth as Peter kept still.

"You like that, boy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Peter whispered. The trucker turned around and wiped the dirt marks his boots had made on the toilet seat, and then sat down.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap?” He asked. Peter nodded, took of his pants, and then straddled the trucker, his legs hugging the man’s hips. They sat still for a moment, listening to the near silence. The only sound was from the stall over where the man still sat. They could hear skin rubbing against skin. Both looked at the glory hole to see an eye watching them. “Looks like he’s enjoying the show.”

Turning his attention back to the trucker, Peter rubbed his dick against the tip of the trucker’s cock. The trucker made a noise and lifted his head. He locked lips with Peter then wrapped his rough hands around Peter’s thin shaft.

“You got a horse cock, son. Thin and long,” he said stroking Peter’s member. “Thin and long.” The trucker continued to rub Peter off as he leaned forward and began licking Peter’s nipples. Peter moaned in please and threw his head back. He began to thrust his cock into the trucker’s hand. The trucker sucked hard on his nipples as Peter moved with fervor. The trucker let go of Peter’s dick to hold Peter’s back, running his hands along the spine. Peter continued to rub his dick on the man’s abs, enjoying the tickling sensation on his shaft from the hair.

“Fuck I love your hair,” he murmured, “You’re such a man.” As Peter continued to thrust, he felt the trucker’s hard biceps and firm back. He ran his hands along the lats and around the shoulders.

“Cum on my chest, boy,” the trucker said, “now.” Peter rubbed his rock hard cock hard and harder against the man’s abs. Thrusting forward through the thick hair, and pulling back. Faster and faster Peter went as he began to pant. The trucker put his hand on the top of the boy’s manhood, holding it in place. Peter let out a deep breath as ropes of cum shot onto the trucker’s chest and into his beard. The jizz settled into the matted hair, dripping through it and onto the skin. Peter took deep breaths once he was done. Peter could hear the man next to them breathe faster followed by spatters of cum hitting the floor. “Guess he liked it.”

Peter laughed and stood. They both began to dress.

“That was great, man. Really,” the trucker said. “You’re a good piece of ass.” Peter smiled.

“Right back at ya man,” he said. They quickly left before the person in the other stall had a chance to catch them leaving. Outside the bathroom, the trucker stopped Peter. He ripped a piece of paper from the out of order sign over the Coke machine and pulled out a sharpie.

“Hey, I live in the area, if you ever need to get a little release, just call me.” The man winked and handed Peter the paper. Peter took it and laughed, putting the paper into his coat pocket.

“Sure, bud. I will.” And with that they parted ways. Peter returned to his car and pulled his fuckbook from the glove box and wrote an entry in the light from the parking lot lamps.

                       

The Trucker                                                                    8/10

9in cock. Long and fat. Very large pecs, huge biceps, thick torso,

undefined abs. A real man. Trucker approached me at Dale City

Rest Stop South. Very very hairy, a jungle. Sucked him off, he

Jerked me off. Someone watched and jacked off. Dominant.

Daddy.


Turns out Zach wasn’t number one. Peter thought of the man’s cock and smiled. He lay back in his seat, ready to get some rest. That was a damn good fuck.

 

Red Chocolate

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