Freay Trucer 11: in My Own Hands

I was busy again.

I left Virginia with a load of raw chicken for Elizabeth, New Jersey. I delivered, cleaned out the trailer then grabbed just five pallets of cookware out of Trenton, destined for a warehouse in Quincy, Massachusetts, just south of Boston.

"Once you unload that, be ready to ride again," said my dispatcher, as she was setting me up sincs freight was booming heavy on the east coast.

I wanted to deliver it all with the holidays coming, and me looking to play Santa Claus to my kids even though they were grown and well established.

"Wayne, we've all got jobs, and you need to take a break, perhaps a vacation," said my oldest son.

"You little shit, I've told you three about calling me by my first name," I told him as I was rolling from Trenton via 95.

He laughed it off while I was serious, as he was poking the bear while I burning the highway.

"Just looking out for the guy that always looked out for us," he said to clean things up.

My boy was right, as to the underworld I was nothing but nomadic slut, but to them I was their hero for I loved my kids, and would always see to it they had "backup" if they ever needed it. The recurring holiday season was extra motivation for me to roll, and here I was, driving north on I-95, doing what I did best, besides being naked or being a father.

I was close to crossing into New York state when I noticed a scent through my air conditioning, and a certain rumble from my engine.  I shifted gears after slowing down briefly, and the noise seemed to get louder.  I pulled over, got out and pulled down the noise to check things out as more smoke seemed to exude.  I gave it an hour to let the smoke dissipate, and it did, so I cranked the engine and wouldn't hear the weird noise as I pushed on.  I ended up rolling through New York City and fared well, making over the state line of Connecticut in no time. I was thinking what happened earlier on was some fluke, but the noises came back, and so did the smoke, so I managed to press on another 50 miles until the smell got louder.  I'd pull over immediately after this and popped the nose, to see the smoke coming thicker, and flowing faster while a leak was happening in front of me.   I immediately got on the phone for roadside assistance.

"Sir, we could have someone come and check you out.  Where are you," said a female rep.

I gave my location, and she advised that I park the trailer so I'd do just that, taking the loaded trailer to a broker company's lot just five minutes away, while being trailed by Davey, a tow truck driver. I packed three sets of clothing items, then unhooked completely before he'd hook me to his rig, only for him to tow me 50 miles to the Freightliner shop in Hartford on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon.

I notified my team at my terminal in Oklahoma City, and another driver would scoop the trailer and finish the mission while I took my ride to get worked on.

"Say, I think I wanna do what you do," Davey told me during the trip.

We kicked off a hearty conversation on trucking, with me giving him the pros and cons of the gig as he experienced one first hand. I gave him my background, and why I chose the profession as he seemed even more intrigued. The handsome Davey, a smooth scalped, Oakley shades wearing bear with a thick and long, beautiful Viking beard, had his blue eyes locked in the entire time.  Once we made it to Hartford he explained why he wanted to do it, and it made sense to him. I was listening, but noticed a few things on the dashboard of his rig that caught my eye.

"I'm part Cherokee," he told me when I asked of the caricatures on the dash.

"Ok! I'm part Italian, part German and part Irish," I told him as we share that information, then phone numbers.

"I'm a Bronx native, but I was born in Oklahoma," he told me.

He claimed this was the right fit for him in order to support his wife and two young children. The 30-year-old and I shook hands, and I would notice that the shop was closed, as it was Sunday.

"I gotta find me a place to crash tonight," I told him.

I found a Comfort Inn nearby, and so I requested an Uber and would remain in his rig until it came. I was fascinated by the caricatures, and how handsome, and responsible this young man was that I quickly admired. The Uber would come, and we both climbed out of the truck to shake and hug, before he darted off to his next gig.

I rode off, too, and barely 20 minutes later I was checked in and receiving a key to my room, after booking for three nights in anticipation of diagnosing the issue with my rig. I got naked and showered, ordered food while still naked as I had no intention of getting dressed until the next morning. I woke at 8 a.m., and found an Uber to take me to the truck, then into the reception office of the shop as it just opened.

"Welcome, how can we help you," asked a tall, bearded Craig.

I explained the issue, and he advised there were two other rigs in front of mine and requested the key.

"Boss, I promise we'll have a diagnosis within two hours," he told me. "And depending on the issue, we'll have her in here in no time."

I sat in the lobby drinking coffee and eating a donut, with Craig coming to me not even 30 minutes later with some bad news.

"A blown gasket!"

I was floored for I never had any issues with the truck, but here we were, as this would definitely dent my pockets. He explained further, and seemed legit with finding the problem as he asked all the right questions, pointing out the issues I saw without assistance from me.

"Wayne, the gasket we need for your truck isn't local, and it may take up to couple of days to get shipped and fix," he added.  Cost is gonna run you about nineteen hundred."

I grabbed my chest like Fred from Sanford and Son, and we both laughed as I hadn't put out that much money on this particular truck ever, but it was the reality of the business, and how I ran so much without giving maintenance like I should've.  I signed paperwork and gave them the green light to work, then made my way back the inn to get naked and stroke one to relieve this new stress. While I was rubbing, I thought of Davey, and how I could've had the young cub blowing me, but then I decided to use my lotion stained fingers to text him about the incident, to further guide his decision to truck.

"Putting out two racks to get my baby back on the road," I told him.  "Blown gasket.

He in turn called me.

"I figured from what you told me that's what it was," he said.  "I'm a mechanic on the side, and work on diesel engines all the time."

I was even more impressed as he not only could save time and money, he was good with his hands.

"Hey, I'm actually heading that way tonight to have a few brews with my buddy, Craig," he told me.

He said the name and it sounded familiar.

"Craig?  As in the manager of the shop here," I asked.

He laughed, for it was a coincidence he was good friends with the guy who received my truck just minutes prior.  He'd come back to Hartford early in the evening, and would grab me from the motel before we met Craig at a nearby bar.

"Trucking not as easy as you thought," I asked Davey.

"I've got some money saved up and I know my way around the nose of most of these tractors.   I think I could manage," he said as he had his mind made up.

"It ain't easy as you think, young buck," Craig interjected.  "Taxes, fuel, and all that other jazz in between.  I trucked for five years until I just had enough, and I'm actually doing better managing the shop compared to when I was on the road.

We were like three kids just going back and forth about trucking, as it was more than evident I was the one with all the experience.  I liked Davey still, for his ambition to do all he could for his family and just being an honest man was more than evident.  He was also Republican like me, and that added a little salt and pepper to our conversation as we seemed to be on the same page politics-wise.

"You smoke cigars," he asked me.

I giggled, for the last time I did that, I had a guy in front of me and was "smoking him" afterwards. He mentioned his love for Cubans, and I agreed, as we ended up mentioning a long list of what we liked with our tobacco.  We had a couple rounds we nursed for a couple hours, until we all were tired, and Craig suggested we all call it a night.  We hopped in his Super Duty diesel pickup, since Davey was a lightweight with liquor compared to Craig and I, and Craig would stop at the motel first to drop me off.

"Place actually turned out to be a gem for the city," he said as he pulled to the front entrance, referring to what the Inn was long before my stay. "Actually pretty nice for the price.

"You betcha," I told him before hopping out and bidding them good night.

I would leave the door open as Davey climbed out of the rear seat to take my place, and they drove off as I walked inside, still tipsy, and now feeling a little horny.  I stopped at the front desk to forage through the smallish food section for snacks, and a cucumber. I got lucky when I found one wrapped in plastic as it was under the refrigerated section, and would purchase it with one intention:  to use it as a toy.  Being around the testosterone in Craig and Davey had me "flowing," and so I showered and cleaned out good, then remained naked, then I'd pull out my laptop to eye some man on man porn on before lubricating the cucumber with lotion.  I got into position by laying on my side, and shoving the huge fruit inside me without recourse.  It might've been six or seven inches in length, and two inches in girth as it hurt so good in the beginning, then I began to toggle it side to side as it stretched my hole and ultimately caused an immediate orgasm.  I envisioned Craig and Davey coming back to my room, coming to use me as if their wives weren't putting out. I placed my right pointer finger in my mouth, pretending it was Davey feeding me his cock, while pulling and pushing the food item inside my cunt as if it was Craig riding my ass.  I focused my attention from the video, instead closing my eyes to visualize being used up, getting more and more excited. The guy on the video was getting fucked good judging from his moans, and I, too pictured that based off his high octaves and would ram my pussy crazy. I'd move to my back with my legs spread while jerking my left hand at a feverish pace, pushing the cucumber even deeper. I took a break after five minutes by putting the food to the side, and getting off the bed to grab my phone before placing it against the wall facing the mirror. I made sure the camera lens faced the mirror as I was making a video, and I would bend over, my back facing the mirror as well to reflect towards the camera, while I bent over and spread my ass cheeks.

"Got damn," I said to myself as I saw a gash, a dark purple circle caused by me "scratching my itch."

I was more excited from the sight and rushed back to bed, this time on my stomach as I sucked the cucumber first like it was Craig's cock, then jammed it back inside me as I was now on all fours.  I loved the sound of my hole opening and closing from the pressure, and the small squelching due to prostate gland being stimulated oh so well. I was moaning uncontrollably while drenching the projectile, as I placed it all the way inside me.  My cunt twitches to the pimples on the fruit, and its stiffness as I continued to bang myself. This was on par with the time I had with Morris, the other trucker I'd seen a couple weeks prior, or maybe the guy that fucked me relentlessly in Bakersfield time before.  Either way, I was having a moment as I wished Craig and Davey asked to come inside, but they didn't and I successfully took things into my own hands.  I ended up standing up for I wanted to bust a good load from my cock, while simultaneously feeling that thing inside me.  I jammed it deep inside, and squeezed it with my ass walls while stroking my cock, not being able to last more than two minutes as I shot a load against the mirror where I stood. I fell to my knees before releasing the cucumber to the floor, my body shaking from the tumultuous orgasm, as it felt like something came over me in that short time of double pleasure.  When I finished shaking, and realized where I was, I came to, grabbing the fruit off the floor and heading to the bed to see if Craig or Davey messaged me.

"I'm back home now.  Wishing I was getting laid, but the wife is being insufficient," read a text from Davey.

In my mind that was a cry for sexual help, but there was no confirmation, so I cut off the lights in the room, and the laptop before crawling under the covers.  I slept like a baby, and would wake the next morning with a sore hole, but satisfied and refreshed, for the thought of him and Craig double banking me caused my own demise in bed.

"Hey Wayne. Your part is here," said Craig as he called me shortly after I woke. "We'll have you ready to roll by 2 p.m."

That put a smile on face, and of course, I would celebrate once more using his voice as to propel me to break out the cucumber and dig myself out once more before checking out of the motel, and grabbing my rig.