I lost track of time as he was pounding my ass and I felt my own juices simmering

One of the questions I’m commonly asked is, “Do truckers
get fucked?” The answer is the same as it is for married
guys who jack off: Of course they do. It’s just that
most of them won’t talk about it.

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. One of
them is the fact that there *are* a lot of truckers on
the road who envision themselves to be straight
regardless of how many guys have gone down on them. Many
of them are married, most of them would never think
about taking the active role in sex, whether sucking
someone off, fucking them, or (gasp!) allowing
themselves to be fucked.

It’s almost like “situational” sex, the same type you
find in prison – guys who would otherwise be satisfied
with their wives or girlfriends get horny on the road
and after a while, their own hand isn’t enough to
satisfy them. But as they’re happy living in their
denial, there’s plenty of gay guys out there who will be
happy to service them.

Does this trucker get fucked? Damned straight I do. Or
damned gay. Your choice. All gay stereotypes aside, as
anyone who has ever taken it up the butt knows, it
doesn’t take a woman to get screwed, and it doesn’t even
take a queen. It takes a man. And any man who tells you
that it didn’t hurt the first time he took an enormous
schlong through the back door would probably also lie
about his first cigarette, saying that it went down
without a major coughing fit.

It’s also been postulated that the best fuck*ers* are
fuck*ees*, and I believe it. I’ve been told that I’m a
hot fuck – from both ends – and, if that’s true (a
remaining semblance of modesty prevents me from taking
it for granted), it’s because I know what it feels like
from both ends.

And, as a trucker, I can tell you that some of the most
satisfying fuck scenes I’ve ever had have been with
other truckers. Those who don’t fit the all-too-often-
true trucker stereotype of being grossly overweight
(from sitting on your butt behind the wheel all day),
smelling like you haven’t showered for a month, having
lousy dental work, and talking like the backwoods boys
in “Deliverance” can be some of the hottest guys around,
and in the same way that “gaydar” operates on Castro
Street or at Christopher & Gay, it also operates among
truckers on the road.

As truckers, we know that we often fulfill the fantasies
of guys who are drawn to our rigs at a rest stop like
flies are drawn to shit – trucks truly *are* magnets.
And when we’re willing to get it on with a “civilian”
driving a four- wheeler, we can up with the right lines
to make the scene like a porn movie.

“Yeah,” I’ve often said to guys while biting my lip so I
didn’t start laughing, “suck that trucker cock! Take my
hot trucker load…” When two truckers get together with
each other, however, we don’t have to play that game –
we actually live it every day.

One of the hottest fuck sessions I’ve had took place in
early September as I was hauling a load from
Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, down to Cullman, Alabama. I
had gotten off I- 81 and crossed over into Tennessee on
I-40. It was getting late and I was hitting ten hours
behind the wheel, the federally mandated daily limit for
commercial drivers. I pulled into a truck stop not far
from Knoxville and, as I usually did, went for a parking
space near the very back of the truck lot.

There are a few reasons that I like to park at the back
of the lot, as far away from the building as possible.
I’ll tell you the obvious one first: As you go into the
building that houses the restaurant, trucker store, TV
lounge, showers, and other features, you can check out
the other trucks that are parked on the lot. Who’s in
the cabs, who has their inside cab or sleeper lights
turned on, who’s sitting at the wheel that might be
cruising, and so on.

Another reason is that when the truck parking lot isn’t
full, there’s more flexibility if you have to move the
truck. One of the nightmares of being a trucker is that
you never know when a “reefer” will park next to you.
That’s a tractor-trailer in which the trailer has a
heating and refrigeration unit designed to keep food
products cold or hot.

They can be identified by the external unit on the front
of the trailer, or by the separate cylindrical fuel tank
under one side of the trailer. Although a driver may
turn off the engine of his tractor, the reefer engines
tend to run all night and they’re louder than a tractor
could ever be. I’ve driven both dry vans and reefers,
and will take a dry van any day.

The final reason I park at the back of the lot is to
maximize the distance I have to walk to get to the truck
stop’s main building. Despite the macho image truckers
have, the fact is that we basically sit on our asses all
day (or night) behind a steering wheel.

Yeah, when you “lump” a run yourself – do your own
loading or unloading – you can get some more exercise,
but even then, most lumping is done with electronic
forklifts. Therefore, I take *any* opportunity I can to
stay fit when I’m on the road, knowing that even if
there’s a YMCA or Bally’s where I’m going, there may not
be a place nearby where I can park my rig.

It was about 8:00 in the evening when I pulled into
Tennessee, hit the truck stop and, finding it almost
full, backed into one of two spots left on the last row.
They were the two end spots, and I took the second one,
allowing just enough space for another rig to park to my
right. He would be up against a high wooden fence on his
right side, but I would at least be between two trucks
and wouldn’t feel as closed in.

I was lucky so far. None of the trucks on my nearby left
had a reefer unit. After I shut down my engine, I kicked
my feet up on the other seat, sat back, and enjoyed the
peace of being in the back of the truck stop, with
crickets literally chirping in the background over the a
second high wooden fence behind the vehicle. I was also
hoping that the next rig to pull into the row and take
up the last space would be another dry van that wouldn’t
kill the quiet.

About ten minutes later, I saw another tractor-trailer
pull off of the CAT scales, which give the total weight
of a truck and its load, then maneuver to park next to
me. As it backed up, I checked under the trailer and
relaxed – no reefer tank. I couldn’t see who was inside
at that point, so I took out my log book and caught up
on logging my driving hours for that day.

As I finished, the door to the truck on my right opened,
and out stepped a shirtless hunk wearing a pair of cut-
off shorts. I normally don’t go for guys with blond
hair, but this driver looked like John Schneider back
when he was doing “The Dukes of Hazard” – one of the few
blond-haired guys I wouldn’t mind creaming over.

My new neighbor walked to the back left side of his
trailer and, a few minutes later, I heard him quietly
say, “Shit.” Then the quiet of the back row was jolted
by the sound of a hammer coming down on steel. Again.
And again.

I didn’t even have to wonder what the sound was. Since
the truck had just pulled off the scales, I already
knew.

Did you ever notice the writing on the doors of a
tractor? There are usually a few permit numbers, a
registration number and, on full-size rigs, the code
“GVWR 80,000.” That means that a combined tractor-
trailer *and* its load have a gross vehicle weight
rating of 80,000 pounds. If it weighs 80,500 pounds,
it’s over the limit and can be taken out of service by
state inspectors at the weigh stations you see on the
highways.

But it’s not quite as simple as saying that the total
vehicle and its load have an 80,000 pound limit. To
protect the roads, each set of axles on a tractor-
trailer have separate weight limits. Of the 80,000 total
pounds, the maximum weight for the front axles of the
tractor is 12,000 pounds. The two “drive axles” at the
rear of the tractor (over which the front of the trailer
sits) can’t be over 34,000 pounds, and the rear axles of
the trailer also have a 34,000-pound maximum. A vehicle
and its load may only weigh 75,000 pounds, but if the
drive axles are, say, 35,000 pounds and the trailer
axles are light, the load is still illegal.

Fortunately, there’s a way of compensating for weight
differentials: moving the tandems. Tandems consist of a
series of holes you can see under the trailer from the
rear side. A metal pin goes through them and holds the
rear axles in place, and the pin – and axles – can be
moved to redistribute the weight of the load inside the
trailer. It’s not uncommon for the pin of a trailer that
hasn’t had its tandems moved for a while to jam, and it
can be a bitch to pull the pin out of the holes to move
the axles.

It’s a job that can be done by one driver, but he often
has to get in and out of the tractor several times to
get it right. While one driver has to keep the bar
released until it’s in the right position, a second
driver can release the bar while the rig is moving so it
snaps into place in its new position. Since it’s so much
easier with two people, it’s also one of the few times
that a nearby driver will automatically offer to assist
the driver who needs his tandems moved.

And, in this case, it was an opportunity to meet my new,
hot- looking neighbor. I slipped on a pair of shorts and
Reeboks, got out of my rig on the passenger side, and
walked to the back of the closely parked trailers. “Let
me guess,” I said as I approached the rear axles.

“You know it,” confirmed the driver, “this damn thing’s
overweight and the bar won’t pull out. Can you give me a
hand?”

As I listened to his baritone twang that revealed his
Southern roots I noticed that he had already worked up a
sweat, and I thought of more than one way I could give
him a hand. “Sure,” I said, “how about rocking her and
we’ll get this thing loosened up. How much are you
overweight?”

“The drive axles are at 34-8.” At 34,800 pounds, that
meant that the tandems would have to be moved forward
four holes to balance the load and move some of the
weight to the back of the trailer.

“Okay, let’s do it. I’ll pull the bar when you move.” He
got into the tractor and, watching me in his side view
mirror, put it in gear and inched backward. The motion
caused the tension to loosen, and I was able to pull the
bar out of its hole.

I held up four fingers and moved them forward, and he
gave an okay sign. Then, leaving his tractor brakes
released, he applied the trailer breaks to lock the
axles and moved backwards another foot. When the trailer
moved over the rear wheels, I let go of the bar as it
was approaching the fourth hole in front of the
original, and the bar snapped back into place. In only a
few seconds, over a thousand pounds of cargo weight was
shifted from the drive axles to the rear of the trailer.

The driver shut down his engine, got out of the cab, and
walked to the back of the trailer. Meanwhile, I was
bending down on my knees facing the trailer, locking the
bar back in place with a cotter pin. And as I turned
around, my face went right into his basket.

“Sorry,” I said, getting up.

“Hey, no sweat,” he came back. “Actually, I was hoping
you would stay there.”

I liked his boldness and, reaching out toward what I had
just brushed up against, replied, “Well, if you’re game,
so am I.” He responded by extending his own hand, and it
only took a few seconds for both our pairs of shorts to
come off, right between the trucks.

Grabbing my own cock, I went down on him there at the
back of our closely parked trailers. The light of the
parking lot didn’t extend back that far, and we knew
that no one was likely to walk by our rigs since they
were at the far corner of the lot at the end of the last
aisle. In a few minutes, we were both on the ground,
locked in a hot 69.

As we were going at it, we actually moved under his
trailer. Our cocks in each other’s mouths, he then
turned so that he I was on my back and he was straddling
me, still connected cock to mouth. Then I felt his
mouth move down toward my balls and approach the crack
of my ass, and I moved my knees up on each side of his
face.

Under a trailer, there is a U-shaped bar that’s used to
hold a spare tire. Most trucks don’t carry spares, since
there are enough 24-hour truck stops and truck repair
shops that, unless one of the single front tires on the
tractor blows or goes flat, a trucker can usually drive
on the remaining double tires until he gets to a shop to
have the blown tire replaced. The U-bar for spares
really has no other use… At least, I didn’t think of
one until now.

As a trucker, I knew I had to be prepared for anything.
And as a trucker who has found a lot of action on the
road, the two things I’ve learned to keep in the pocket
of my shorts at all times is a small tube of K-Y and a
couple of condoms. As my new friend began rimming me, I
stretched my arm out for the shorts, as I had the
feeling I was going to need these components of my job.
This guy was making my ass fuckin’ hungry.

As I held a condom and the tube of K-Y in my hand, the
other driver turned me around and raised my legs,
putting them through the U-bar on the trailer. I reached
around for his cock and put a condom on him with one
hand as I was lubing myself with the other, and with my
butt high in the air and my legs resting on the bottom
of the bar, he straddled himself over me, bracing his
hands on the sides of the bar.

My friend was well-endowed, and I grabbed the bottom of
the bar, wanting to have the flexibility to pull back if
he had the idea of ramming his rod into me.

But he didn’t. Yet. Placing his cock up against my ass
and bracing himself over me, he looked like a weight
lifter who had just completed two sets on a fly machine.
He had well defined pecs and arm muscles and was well in
control of his position ad he slowly entered my waiting
ass.

“Are you alright?” he asked, as his cock moved deeper
into my butt. “Yeah, man, I can take it. You’re in
control.”

I felt his rod slip deeper into my ass until his entire
shaft was inside me, then he slowly began moving in and
out. Somehow, I knew I could trust him while I was in
this vulnerable position, my ass up in the air with my
legs over the spare tire bar under his trailer. Somehow,
the thought of screaming, “Owwwwwww! Shit!” in a crowded
truck stop wasn’t tempting lest a wandering driver
wonder what was happening under that trailer parked in
the last space.

As I got used to his large rod, I released my own grip
on the tire bar, put some K-Y in my hand and started
stroking my own cock, which was rock hard by this point.
He slowly picked up speed, thrusting his cock up my butt
with long, deep strokes as I started beating my own meat
with greater speed. I lost track of time as he was
pounding my ass and I felt my own juices simmering.

Finally, he was fucking me with a frenzy as I was
furiously hammering my own meat and I knew he was
getting close to shooting his load. He quietly cried
out, “I’m cumming, man!” as my own cock load exploded
over both of us.

Exhausted, we stayed in place for another minute before
he gently pulled out of me and I pulled my legs out from
the tire bar. He laid down right on the ground next to
me and we nuzzled into each other’s arms as we continued
to catch our breath.

We almost fell asleep wrapped around each other but
thought better of it. Other truckers often take a walk
around the parking lot, and we weren’t quite ready to
provide a show for some innocent slob that would come
upon us.

As we crawled out from under the trailer, we finally
introduced ourselves – his name, he said, was B.J.
“You’re kidding,” I declared.

“No, man, I’m serious,” he replied with a smile on his
face, obviously having gotten the same reaction many
times before. “My parents named me William Joseph. Billy
Joe – B.J.”

“Well, B.J., can you take it as good as you give it?”

“I don’t know,” he acknowledged. “Why don’t we go into
my cab and find out?”

We did. And he could.