Message-ID: <7791eli$9801251941@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: The Naked Trucker Subject: Trucker Encounter VI: "Weekend With an Old Friend" (m/m/m) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: NakedTrucker@juno.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34CA73F9.6B64@juno.com> ---------------------------- Trucker Encounter VI: ---------------------------- "Weekend With an Old Friend" ---------------------------- By The Naked Trucker ---------------------------- (NakedTrucker@juno.com) ---------------------------- November 6th. It was a Thursday, and I had spent most of the week running bulk pharmaceuticals through the mid-Atlantic states. I had just returned home, kicked up my feet, and was looking forward to a long weekend when the phone rang. "How'd you like to help a slightly injured buddy out this weekend?" The voice belonged to Mike, an old friend with whom I had learned the ropes of the trucking profession. "What's up, stud muffin," I asked, recalling one of the many terms that had passed between us over the years, "and what can I do to help?" Mike explained that he had cracked one of his ribs a few of days earlier and, while he was able to drive, he hadn't been sleeping well for the past few days because of the pain. He had just been dispatched on a run from Maryland to New England, where he would be hauling some 40,000 pounds of cargo to a Wal-Mart warehouse in Raymond, New Hampshire. Would I, he asked, mind sharing the driving so he could try to get some rest? It had been a hectic week, but the thought of spending a weekend trucking up to New England with Mike was already a turn-on. One of my oldest trucking buddies, Mike is a handsome Irish stud, standing 5'11" at 180 pounds, with dark hair and a recently grown beard. He was the epitome of what a trucker *should* look like - hot, hairy, and horny, with a natural masculinity that made him the target of both guys and women when he was on the road. We arranged to meet in nearby New Jersey. As Mike picked up a fully loaded trailer and headed north, I got in my car and started driving east to the Petro Truckstop in Bordentown, where we would meet up and I would take over the driving as we continued north to New Hampshire. It had been a while since I got into my own car, and the feeling was a strange one. When you drive a truck, you ride high in the cab of a vehicle that has a gross weight of up to 80,000 pounds when loaded, manually shifting up to 13 gears, and enjoying a bird's eye view of *everything*. Once you've become used to that, getting into a car means having to reorient yourself to what is normal for most people. At first, it seems as if you're riding six inches off the ground in a paper contraption that you're about to fall through, chafing your butt as you bounce along the road. It's not like that in reality, but it sure seems that way when you get back into a car after driving a tractor-trailer. As I approached the Petro Truckstop, I called Mike up on the CB radio to find out where he was parked in their lot. One of the largest truckstops on the east coast, Petro is a mega-complex that includes a large restaurant, trucker store, showers, fueling center, truck repair and service plaza, truck and trailer wash, and secured parking spaces for literally hundreds of tractor- trailers. I parked my car in the "civilian" section for automobiles, grabbed my weekend bag, and made my way out to the enormous truck parking lot. Mike had parked his rig near the truck repair center, and I climbed up into the rig and stashed my gear. Mike's truck was similar to mine, a Freightliner tractor with a 70-inch condo sleeper cab and a 48-foot trailer, so I knew that I would be comfortable navigating the tricky roads through New York and Connecticut on the way to New Hampshire. They wouldn't seem that tricky to someone driving a car, but in a tractor-trailer every bump in the road is magnified, especially when the rig is fully loaded. It was a little after 8:00 in the evening. Mike had just arrived at Petro and his fuel tanks were three-quarters full. We had some extra time to kill before we had to hit the road, so we stripped down and retired to the sleeper cab for a few hours of rest and renewing an old friendship. Though a Freightliner condo has two sleepers - a lower bed with a spring mattress, and an upper bunk with a foam mattress - we left the upper bunk in its folded position against the back wall of the cab, knowing that we wouldn't need it with each other. We decided to get on the road around midnight since Petro, like many major truckstops that have secured parking lots for trucks, charges a $10.00 fee for parking over four hours unless you fuel your rig or make a fairly sizable purchase in the trucker store. Earlier that day, Mike had seen an orthopedist about his rib, and had picked up a prescription for Tylenol with hydrocodone, a codeine derivative and potent medication for pain. The rib wasn't fractured, just bruised - technically it was a "contusion" - but it can be just as painful as if it were fractured. It would be at least a week before it would start to feel better, and Mike was sensible enough to know that he shouldn't drive while he was on a strong pain medication. He had managed to avoid taking a pill until he arrived at the Petro, where I would take over the driving as we headed north. As midnight came, I got up from the bed, walked to the driver's seat, and started the engine to allow the air brakes to charge up. Professional drivers are required by federal law to keep a driving log, so I began a new log sheet for the day, then put on a pair of shorts and sneakers to do a walk-around pre-trip inspection of the truck, also a federal requirement. Everything checked out, I climbed back into the cab, took off the sneakers and shorts, and sat back in the driver's seat in my usual trucking uniform - nothing at all. As the engine continued to warm up I turned the heat on inside the cab. When Mike and I were back in the sleeper cab together, our shared body heat was enough to keep us warm. As I prepared to pull out of the Petro, Mike began to doze off under a warm blanket, so I switched the floor heat on so it would keep my feet warm while driving. At the same time, I opened the driver's side window to the cab to help keep me alert for the nighttime drive north, creating a combination of warmth from the heater with fresh air coming through the window. Pulling out of the truckstop, I drove to the New Jersey Turnpike and headed north. The drive would take longer than it would for a car since there would be heavy truck traffic going into New York City, and the combination auto-truck lanes of the turnpike were closed for construction. That meant I would have to be especially alert since trucks were using the car-only lanes that night. I also knew that even though I would be crossing over into New York in the middle of the night, that was the time that most trucks were making the same trip over the George Washington Bridge. It seems that every trucker has the same idea - to beat the traffic into New York by driving late at night. And because we all have the same idea, the road ends up being bogged down with tractor- trailers. As Mike slept, I crossed the bridge into New York and came across one of the worst stretches of road in the country, the Cross- Bronx Expressway. Mike had managed to catch a couple of hours of sleep, but as we drove through the Bronx on the way out to Connecticut, the constant road bumps woke him up and he came out of the sleeper and joined me up front, taking the passenger seat. We finally crossed over into Connecticut and continued up I-95 toward New Haven, finding an open parking space in the second service plaza after we entered the state. I eased the rig into a space between two other tractor-trailers, and we both returned to the sleeper cab for a rest while the road filled with cars for the morning rush hour. It was 8:30 when I awoke and returned to the driver's seat. Mike took another pill and went back to sleep as I continued on to New Haven before turning north on I-91 toward Hartford. As I approached Hartford an hour later, I turned off onto I-84 east and continued into Massachusetts. The load was due at Wal-Mart's warehouse on Friday in the early afternoon, so I let Mike sleep as I drove through Massachusetts, using the Boston Beltway to pick up I-93 into New Hampshire. The traffic flowed smoothly, and as I approached Manchester, New Hampshire, I turned off onto Route 101 toward Raymond. It was just after noon as I pulled into the Wal-Mart Distribution Center, where I was directed by the security guard to dock the trailer at gate 47, then unhook the trailer from the tractor so they could unload the shipment. There are three stages to any pick-up or delivery. The first is the arrival - the time at which you actually drive into the site. The second stage is "bumping the dock," when you actually back the trailer up to the loading dock where it will be loaded or unloaded. The third and final stage is "loaded and rolling" for a pick-up, or "delivered and waiting" for a delivery. While the tractor remains hooked to the trailer at most places, Wal-Mart requires that the tractor be uncoupled from the trailer during the loading and unloading process - a sound safety precaution, since it prevents a negligent driver from pulling away from the dock while there is still activity in the trailer. During the unloading of the shipment, we would have to wait in the tractor in the "bobtail" section of the parking lot. A "bobtail" refers to a tractor without a trailer; when someone talks about, say, "bobtailing to New York," the literal meaning is to drive a tractor without a trailer. After uncoupling the tractor from the trailer, I drove toward several other bobtail tractors on the lot. Mike woke up as I uncoupled the tractor from the trailer at the loading dock. The loud sound of the tractor's "fifth wheel" (the platform at the rear of the tractor on which the locking pin of the trailer rests) snapping away from the trailer woke him up, and he realized that we had arrived at our destination. We had both made this run before, so we knew that we might be parked in the bobtail section for up to four hours. I had put on a sweatshirt and shorts just before we entered the complex, as I knew that I would have to get out of the rig to go to the office with my paperwork. There was a chill in the air, but I also knew that I would be able to keep warm by the sheer energy it takes to uncouple the trailer. Before pulling away from the loading dock, I would have to manually lower the trailer's landing gear, raising the trailer sufficiently to allow the tractor to uncouple, and disconnect the "glad hands," or connectors on the cables between the tractor and trailer that supply the trailer with electricity for the lights and air for the brakes. After I got back into the warm cab, I removed the sweatshirt and shorts and went back to my usual uniform. After I pulled away from the trailer I had left at the dock, I passed in front of the bobtail tractors before I circled around and took a parking space between two of them. Of course, the reason I came around the front of the tractors was to check out the other drivers that were parked on the lot awaiting word that their trailers had been loaded or unloaded and were ready for recoupling. I noticed a fairly hot looking driver dozing as he was leaning against the window frame of his day cab - a tractor without a sleeper - at the end of the row, and parked next to him with our Freightliner condo. After I parked and pulled my parking brakes, ejecting a gust of air into the brake system, the other driver stirred and turned to look over at our tractor. I nodded a greeting and he asked, "How's it going?" "Not too bad," I called over, "how about yourself?" "Damn tired. I've been at this place for almost four hours and these bastards still haven't unloaded me." Since I was parked to the left of his truck, he was able to see over the edge of my passenger side door. He obviously saw that I was naked, but tried to avoid looking like he was checking me out. Meanwhile, in the back of our cab, Mike had a quiet smile on his face, knowing where the conversation between the other driver and me would be going. "Fuck, it must be uncomfortable as hell in that day cab. You can't exactly stretch out in that thing." "No shit. I tried laying across the seat, and the damn seat belt kept biting into my back." "Well, if you want to stretch out until they unload you, we've got some extra room in here." "We?" "Yeah," I said, "I'm driving with a partner, but there's lots of room back here." The other driver sat up fully in his cab, revealing a well- defined chest as it began to occur to him that there was potentially some action in our cab. "Sure," he said, "I'll come over and hang out for a while." As I opened the passenger door to our rig, he stepped down from his day cab and turned around to climb into the condo. Meanwhile, Mike moved toward the far side of the bed and covered himself with part of a sheet to hide the raging hard-on he was now sporting in anticipation of a three-way encounter with another trucker. We introduced ourselves as the trucker from the day cab sat on the edge of the bed. Lighting a smoke, he asked, "Are you guys regular driving partners?" Mike and I explained that we were old friends who drove for different companies but got together after he injured his rib, with me doing the driving this weekend so he could get some rest. When the other driver asked if the rest had been helping, Mike answered that the pain had passed sufficiently that he could think about other things. As I sat back in the driver's seat against the side of the cab, one foot up on the passenger seat across the way, my own cock was beginning to rise as I was checking both of them out. "It looks like we're all gonna be here for a while," I said as the day cab driver began to notice my rising meat. "Maybe we can find something to distract us from the waiting." The day cab driver stood up, and the bulge that protruded from his jeans showed that he had some unloading to do himself. "The first thing I wouldn't mind doing is getting out of these damn clothes," he exclaimed. "I've been sitting in that truck for a long time, and really need to loosen up." As he stripped down, Mike sat up on the side of the bed and pushed the sheets aside to reveal his own hard-on. "No problem, dude," I said, "Let's get some of those muscles loosened up." The driver turned toward Mike, who began to go down on our new buddy as I began to massage his shoulders and work my way down his back. He had been cramped up in his day cab for hours, and his tight back muscles began to relax as I worked them with my hands. As Mike stroked his own cock, the day cab driver slowly began thrusting his cock forward into Mike's eager mouth while my own hands were moving farther down his back. Grabbing the support bars on the upper storage compartments in front of the bed, our friend spread his feet apart as my hands moved closer toward his ass and I extended the massage to his tight butthole, my own cock also ready for some thrusting forward. I reached for a condom and some lube, got his ass ready, and stood directly behind him as I moved my hands back up to his shoulders to continue massaging his upper torso. As he continued to slowly move his cock in and out of Mike's mouth, his ass backed up against my own cock, which was sticking out straight and ready to be surrounded by his hot man hole. Our new friend was in heaven, getting it three ways - Mike sucking his cock, while I fucked his ass *and* massaged his tight back and shoulder muscles at the same time. As he moved to support his hands on Mike's shoulders, I continued to thrust my rod into his buttcheeks as I reached around and continued to massage him, my hands now moving down his well-defined, hairy chest while Mike continued to stroke himself with one hand and fondled our buddy's balls with the other. "Fuck, guys," our buddy cried out as his breathing got heavier, "I'm gonna cum!!!" I felt his ass tighten around my cock as he moaned and his load shot into Mike's mouth. My own cock began to spurt as his ass muscles grabbed me harder, while Mike, his mouth still wrapped around our companion's rod, shot his own hot load. "Like I said," as we separated, "we've got lots of room in here." We all laid down on the ample bed and caught our breath as we heard the warehouse manager's voice on the CB, "Dock 53, we have you unloaded." "Shit. That's me, guys," our friend said. We all looked at each other and started laughing our asses off, all thinking the same thing. "Yeah," he exclaimed, "*They* sure weren't the ones who unloaded me!" As our friend left to recouple his trailer and roll out of the distribution center, Mike and I managed to get a couple of hours rest while our own load was being taken off the trailer back at the dock. We were lucky, and by late afternoon we were on the road heading back toward Massachusetts. As we rolled back down I-93 and picked up the I-495 beltway to head west, Mike's rib began to ache as the beginning of night air began to come into the truck. It had been raining, and the added humidity was enough to cause any injury to ache, so Mike took another pain pill and went back to sleep as I drove the truck. Shortly before 6:00 in the evening, I pulled into a rest area on I-495 near Merrimac, Massachusetts. There weren't many vehicles parked there yet and, angling the tractor slightly to the left so the lights by the phone area wouldn't shine into the cab, I pulled up to the last parallel parking space on the right-hand side of the rest area. The site had some telephones, but there were no bathroom or other facilities, nor any lighting except for the phone area. It had been a long day, so I reclined the high-back driver's seat back farther and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off for about 20 minutes, because dusk had fallen as I awoke. On the shoulder of the exit ramp in front of the truck, a car had parked and its occupant was outside, half-standing and half-sitting on the trunk of the car, smoking a cigarette and looking back at me in the driver's seat of the rig. As he took a drag of the cigarette and pulled it away from his mouth, I saw his tongue move across his lips in an invitation for some oral action, as my own cock was beginning to rise. I got up from the driver's seat and moved to the passenger seat of the truck, knowing that he would see my erect rod as I arose. Taking the right-hand seat, I lit a cigarette and watched as he slowly sauntered toward the right side of the truck. As he came upon the door he boldly said, "I wouldn't mind taking care of that for you." Rock hard by this time, I opened the door to the rig and turned to the side, placing my leg on the upper step to the cab, and said, "Right here, man. Not too loud, cause my co-driver is asleep in the back." The driver of the car, a dark-haired guy with a moustache who looked to be in his early 30's, gingerly stepped up on the lower step to the cab and expertly took my meat into his seasoned mouth. I put both feet on the upper step and braced myself with the hand bars on the inside front and outside right side of the cab and let him work my cock with his hot tongue, leaning back while he went down on me with a growing rhythm. The Massachusetts night air was blowing against me briskly, a welcome breeze since I had the heat running in the cab to keep warm while I was driving. I didn't need to move at all, his experienced mouth going down on my hard rod as I felt a hot load churning in my balls and begin to shoot into his mouth and down his throat. He pulled back and said, "Thanks, man, that was hot." "Any time, dude. It was a pleasure." As he moved off, I got back into the warm cab out of the evening chill, then joined Mike in the back for another hour of sleep. Mike woke up before I did. The night air had settled in and the rest had done him well. I awoke as he was stroking my neck and he said, "I'm up for some driving if you'd like to rest some more." As I had done all of the driving up to this point, I welcomed the chance to stretch out in the sleeper cab and get some extended sleep as Mike moved to the front and pulled out of the rest area back onto I-495. We had noticed heavy construction on I-95 in Connecticut, so Mike cut over the Massachusetts Turnpike to I-84, which we would take us through Connecticut and back into New York, cutting down I-684 to go back across the George Washington Bridge. Near the northern end of I-684 just below Brewster, New York, Mike pulled into a rest area and stopped in the truck section of the parking lot, just along a picnic grove but before the area in which the cars could park. We were there for a good hour when I finally woke up, looking up from the bed to find Mike fucking a guy who was bent over the passenger seat at the front of the cab. We looked and winked at each other as I slowly sat up and leaned against the back of the cab, my hand moving down toward my hard cock, already enjoying the sight in front of me. After a few minutes, I stood up and Mike said to his partner, "How about taking care of my buddy here." As he turned his fuck buddy, still bent over, around toward me, I felt a hot mouth go down on my cock, which was getting ready to explode by that point. Mike's own breathing became heavier, and together we shot our loads into both ends of the guy who had joined us at the rest area. Pleasantly tired by that point, I laid back as Mike opened the on-board refrigerator and got out some sandwiches and sodas. After eating, he said, "You know, I wouldn't mind just hanging out here with you for a while - just us." It had been several months since we had seen each other, and we welcomed the opportunity to lay back and spend some quality time with each other, staying at the rest area until Saturday morning, when I took the wheel and we hit the road to go back across the George Washington Bridge and down the New Jersey Turnpike to where I had left my car at the Petro Truckstop in Bordentown. We arrived at Bordentown, parked on the truck lot at Petro, and hit the salad bar in the restaurant as we had so many times before. Afterward, we both grabbed a shower at the truckstop and retired back to the sleeper cab for a few more hours until the on-board computer came through with information on Mike's next load. It was in nearby Burlington, New Jersey, a drop and hook in which you leave the empty trailer and hook up a trailer which has already been loaded, that would have to be delivered on Monday afternoon to Columbus, Ohio. That would take Mike right by my place back in Pennsylvania. After fueling up the rig, I went back to my car and drove back home. Mike would follow a couple of hours later, stashing the rig on the parking lot of a local shopping center where I picked him up, and we went back to my place for the rest of the weekend. As I checked in with my own dispatcher, I was assigned a load to be picked up in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania, on Sunday night. I would be going to - you guessed it, Columbus, Ohio. Which meant that Mike and I would be riding the Pennsylvania Turnpike and I- 70 in our own mini-convoy, with a stop or two along the way for food . . . and more of our own personal refreshment. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |