Wayne's after effects from playing with Rip.
Rip did me pretty good when we met in Bakersfield. I didn't expect any less, for when I checked out interracial porn and saw black guys terrorizing white holes I'd see them all bruised and swollen afterwards. I wanted the same thin: got that, and more.
A couple days after he "blessed" me with that thick cock, it felt like my pussy was carrying a golfball. I pulled over at a truck stop to shower, heading east to deliver a load in Virginia when I felt it throbbing, and had to make sure all was well down there. I went into the shower booth and bent over after propping my phone on the top of a handicap rail, making timed photos.
"Got damn," I remember saying to myself as never before had my hole looked so swollen.
I was actually turned on by it, my anus still warmed from the thrashing I received, his superiority on display due to the rumblings of his cock. I cut on the water, then tapped my hole gently as I washed the agitated crevice, cleaning it good still for I knew at some point the swelling would go down, and I'd hunger for more cock. If Rip could do this to me, maybe he was the one? Maybe he was the king I longed to be submissive to, or maybe he was the guy who could truly tame me, and make me only want him?
Nahhh.
A few minutes after I showered, I a slifht breeze of a cologne passed through the shower room, setting me off, making me wonder what other masculine human being stepped into the area to catch my attention. Suddenly someone piqued my cock sucking radar, and I walked over to the entry door of my stall, cracking it slightly to see a tall, white bear that was hairy all over, with a fat cock hanging down towards his knees. He had his back turned as he fumbled through his toiletry bag with his big butt making me salivate as I wanted a taste. He then turned in my direction and I shut the door immediately, so fast that it slammed against the panel. I was a little embarrassed, and would hear a snicker, almost as if he knew I was watching him.
"Hey over there. Who you drive for, trucker," I heard him ask.
"Got my own rights. I pull for myself," I told him.
I was lying for I worked for a nationwide carrier, but at the moment it sounded good.
"That's nice. Where you hauling to," he asked. "I've got a load of charcoal headed west to Los Angeles."
"I just came from the Central Valley area, Bakersfield to be exact," I told him.
We continued to chat in the shower, discussing the freight we pulled in recent weeks, both of us seeing an uptick in good loads in demand across the country.
"Christmas should be pretty good this year for my nieces and nephews, as well as the grands. Shit man, I pulled 50K two months straight," he told me.
That was an impressive number being he was hauling for a retail giant. I poked around and asked more questions, feeling fond of this soft spoken, tall bear that obviously was dedicated to the craft of trucking. He spoke on how he made the money, how he ran, and was still able to keep his sanity.
"A lot of jerking off was part of the equation," he told me.
"Why jerk off when you got willing mouths to feed," I told him, thinking of myself.
"Hungry mouths are abound? I wonder how close," he asked.
