Grapevine

A hogger sees a lot of interesting things from the cab of a bigrig! It just never seems to occur to folks roaring down the freeway that truck drivers are in a position to look right down into their laps, even in a closed car. Of course, convertibles and sunroofs help out a lot! I can't count the number of times I've glanced down at a passing beemer to see a hand and arm groping a hairy cunt; and just about as often the arm and hand will be jerkin-off a nice prick! Many's the near-accident I've seen from a distance when a driver took his eyes off the road to watch his partner pop.

Of course, seeing this stuff can make a driver a tad horny. It doesn't help much that most rigs get this bouncy rhythm going, especially on concrete highways. Not to mention that it can get pretty hot sitting behind or on top of 400 HP of throbbing diesel engine. That's why a lot of times on the long, hot, summer valley runs, I shuck everything but my shorts and sit sporting a woodie for mile after mile...

99 has to be one of the worst roads in California! It's hard to imagine an "antiquated freeway", but 99 is that for sure. The rig hasn't been built that can truly smooth out all the expansion-joints between Sacramento and Bakersfield! Consequently, it's pretty difficult not to wind up down that way horny as the dickens!

Now, there are both guys and gals that dig truckers. Both usually drive sporty cars, converts or at least sun-roofs; a guy can usually spot 'em by paying a little attention to the rear-view mirrors. The dead giveaway is when they come up fast to pass, then slow down and "fall in step", taking a real long time to get by, groping themselves like crazy or giving a breezy high-five. Nowadays, a lot of 'em have CB's, too, and we can chat each other up by radio.

So it should come (heh!) as no surprise that there is a lot of "R & R" going on at the rest-stops and truckers' motels off the freeways. Personally, I like the fun and games at the rest areas, because driving a BR is actually a fairly tough job and I need a good night's sleep in order to put in a good day's drive. But there's not much use trying to sleep when you've had it up all day, been cruised by two or three good lookin dudes, and are right on the edge of poppin yer wad just from bouncing in the seat all day!

My usual routine puts me at a rest stop a bit south of B'field in the late afternoon, and it's a rare layover (heh!) that I don't get some help with my "problem". Sometimes I set it up ahead of time with some of my favorite guys (guess I should point out here that I am one of the many gay truckers out there), but other times I like to take "pot luck", and I'm not often disappointed. At "thirty-something" I'm still in good shape, with dirty blond hair that I wear pretty long, nice smooth pecs and a pretty treasure trail pointing right down to the pleasure zone. I fill a pair of Jockeys pretty nicely (if I do say so myself!), and sport a reasonably well-turned set of pegs. It isn't often that anybody turns me down!

So, I'll pull into the rest area of an afternoon, let the rig idle a while to cool down, fill out my log (heh!) and check out the area. I know what's going on (or down!) in at least half of the sleeper cabs there, and with a sharp eye it isn't unusual to see a driver who seems to be alone and asleep one minute, suddenly has a partner the next - he or she had to come up for air! And there's the well-worn path to the johns! Gawd, those places do get busy sometimes, but I tend to stay away from that crowd, 'cause there are those times the fuzz likes to pull some funny business in there, and I don't much want to get busted - just want to bust my nuts and get on down to Wheeler for a good sleep before the long grapevine pull the next day.

Funny thing is, though, that as much as I want to get my rocks off, I want to do it with someone else in the same frame of mind. Yeah: I admit there are times I just open the door of my cab and wait 'till some dude walks by and sees that I'm stripped to my shorts and givin Willy a slow stroke now and again: once the dude sees that, I'm only a few licks away from blowing a wad down his throat, and I can be on my way. But those quickies don't really satisfy the way I like to be satisfied!

So, more likely I'll check out the other drivers. I'll pull on my Levi's, drop down to the ground, grab my persuader and pound tires, check brakes and rigging, watchin outa the corner of my eye to see which hunky driver is watchin me! Once I see a hogger that turns me on and who I see is givin me the eye, a good grope at my crotch is usually all it takes to get a high-sign, and I'll be up in that other cab ready to chow down! Even though I don't drive a sleeper myself, I'm sure glad most other long-haul dudes do: and I'm also glad I'm not some six-foot-five bean- pole, either!

I admit I've been accused of being greedy: on the other hand, I think a lot of drivers feel sorta the way I do, that getting done by another driver beats a run-of-the-mill BJ from some flamin queen. So I have been known to hit on more than just one driver of an afternoon (my record is nine), and each steamy load I put away makes me hotter than hades; so when I finally find an obliging dude that's as horny as I am and who grabs my jeans and shoves 'em down and grabs my prick, I'm in trucker's heaven! I usually pop my cork with no more than a half-dozen strokes. Many a driver has been thankful I always carry a BIG cum-rag in my back pocket!

So, after a coupla hours of playtime, it's the short run on down to Wheeler Ridge and the bunk-house there; some decent chow, a hot shower and shut-eye. Not that there isn't a fair amount of carrying-on there, as well; but I'm usually sated, and like I said, I need that beauty-rest!

I do remember connecting there once, though, with a really neat dude that was hikin' his way south. I'd seen him in the diner, and knew at once he wasn't a "regular". Truth is, I figured he was hostlin with some other guy. So when I found him alone at the breakfast counter the next morning about 5 I was a bit surprised. He struck up a conversation, and I soon found out he wanted a ride over the hill. So, Okay: I know this isn't the coolest thing to do -- pick up some guy I didn't know from Adam, for the most difficult part of the trip: but, hey, he wasn't at ALL bad looking, wasn't dirty, and wasn't under age (though I admit he looked like he wasn't all that far past being jail-bait).

So I took him under my wing. I figured the porno mags amid the clutter in my cab would clue him in, and that he wouldn't be surprised to find the plastic piss-bottles I use to avoid too many pit-stops, if he'd made it this far south via the truck route! So after breakfast we ventured into the cool morning air to my venerable Peterbilt. The engine caught quickly, blowing blue-white smoke-rings till the fuel warmed up; I hopped back down to check the rig around while the engine was warming up and air filled the brake reservoir. I sent Jack (that was the kid's name) back to get my thermos re-filled with coffee, eased the rig over to the fueling area and did all the needful there. Jack sauntered back with the coffee, and we climbed into the cab: it was just goin on 6 when I hit low-over and took some pedals and we rolled out on to the main road.

So I'm jaded: but getting a BR under way is, well, sexy! There's skill involved, especially in an older rig like mine that doesn't have the automatic tran and all the other bells and whistles the newer rigs have. You have to know just where the clutch "takes hold"; when to double- clutch; the big stick is close to a yard long and still takes some effort to move; and "shorty", for the rear axle, even with the air-assist, has to be coaxed "just so", or you can take a few teeth off the transfer gears with a gawdawful crunch! So, you walk it up the gears, matching the engine's speed and torque to the load: second-over; third-under; third- over. The transition from third-over to fourth-under is tricky, but goes smoothly if you do it right. Eventually you have something like 80,000 pounds of machinery moving smoothly down the highway, and you can begin to relax; and in the present instance, I could begin to pay a little attention to my passenger.

The ride is fairly smooth here, on black-top, so not too "bouncy" just yet. Jack seems at home, clearly no stranger to a BR and all the manipulations necessary to getting it up to speed. He complimented me on my skills, and I told him he hadn't seen the half of them! Actually, I referred to what was ahead - the famous Grapevine - but, a sly smile on his face suggested perhaps he took a different meaning. Okay by me! I had a chance to study Jack's appearance now, and it was rather nice; his levis were tight on his thighs - I like that! - and he showed some basket. He had a jacket on, so I couldn't tell too much about his upper bod, but I knew it would be only a short while before he would be shucking that coat, if not a lot more, because it was obviously going to be a typically HOT day in the southern San Joaquin valley, and working this rig over the 'vine on a hot day can put the temperature in the cab well into the nineties, even with all the windows and vents wide open!

The approach to the grapevine is deceptive: you're actually climbing a modest grade, but because of the looming mountains, it seems flat. But soon it's time to drop out of five-over, as the grade increases a little and the rig slows, the engine labors. Sure enough, it's only 6:30, but the temperature is climbing in the cab, so Jack sheds his jacket, and I can perceive a nice torso under a tight tee, and nice muscular arms with just a light dusting of hair. Hmmmm: just my type, it seems! I skip four over and go direct to four-under; then -- and this always startles me, no matter how often I do it -- we hit the 'vine itself, where the grade suddenly approaches three percent, and it's several quick down-shifts to the long, slow grind in second-over (if we're lucky we can stay there, unless some idjit cuts us off and we lose momentum!). Now, on the one hand, this part of the trip can be pretty dull, since you're poking along at around 25 mph; but the route is twisty, and there's other traffic you have to watch, like all those dumb fools in their beemers and cressidas roarin along as if they were at the Indy 500, with no IDEA how difficult it is to hustle a rig over this hill!

So, I'm settled down to the grind, watching the mirrors, holding the outside lane, gettin with the gentle rhythm (we're back to concrete and expansion joints again), when that old automatic reaction set in and Willy started to exert himself in my Levi's. To tell the truth, I was so absorbed in drivin, I forgot all about Jack, and without even thinkin about it I first made a "major adjustment" of my crotch, and shortly thereafter popped the top button on my levis, ripped open the rest and let Willy free. Only when I heard a low whistle from the other side of the cab did I suddenly remember my passenger, and when I glanced his way it was MY turn to whistle: he hadn't whipped it out yet, but the snake crawling down his leg made it clear that either the rhythm of the ride or my raging hard-on (or both) had taken effect.

Jack saw me cruise him, and answered by stroking himself through the blue cloth of his pants. At just that moment I realized I was gaining on the rig ahead, checked my mirrors and saw it was clear to move left to pass: had the signals on, when this idjit in a caddy pulled into the lane and cut me off. I was off the juice right away, and of course lost momentum and had to drop it down to first-over and fall in behind the rig I'd hoped to pass. Under these circumstances its 10 mph most of the way to the summit. So I said something rude and appropriate about the driver, and Jack said, "I like the way you handle this rig." I said, "Well, we're in for the long haul, so I'm gonna handle YOUR rig," and I reached over and grabbed that trouser-trout, and was rewarded by a very pleasant pulsation. I worked that meat with my right hand as I steered with my left; presently I felt a wet spot on his pants and realized he was lubin' like crazy, so I just said, "Get outa those things, you're gonna mess yourself!" So he shucked his Levis down around his ankles, and this really sporting cock sprang out, drooling wildly. Don't think I ever saw anyone lube like that!

At least this guy wasn't bashful! He reached over and got a grip on me, then went back and got a handful of his own pre-cum and used that on my dick, and I was in trucker's heaven again! This was certainly going to be one of the more memorable crossings of the 'vine that I'd ever make! Now, there's a rest stop about half-way up towards the summit, but I couldn't really see us stopping there, since I had no sleeper and didn't want to hafta take this dude in the mensroom. So I just kept my foot on the juice, keeping a respectful distance behind the rig ahead of us, and let the throbbing engine, the heat, the lilt of the cab as we humped the joints in the roadway, and (best of all) this guy rubbing my dick with his copious effusion, work their magic. His slippery prong in my right fist was no unpleasant sensation, either! I didn't even slow down for the rest stop: just let the fellow ahead of us set the pace, and grooved on this mutual JO scene right here in the cab of my own rig. Jack helped me shuck my levis, and steered while I shed my shirt. Soon he was tonguing my right tit, and it sure felt good! I had to take my hand off his cock a few times and shift some gears, as there are a few level stretches where we picked up a little speed, but somehow, I was content to follow the rig ahead right on up to the summit. As we approached the top Jack suddenly stretched his legs straight out against the firewall, grabbed my right wrist in an iron grip (my own grip was firmly on his cock) and let go with a huge load that went all OVER the place! While he was still dribbling cum, he reached over with his right hand and jacked me quickly to a state of orgasm, and I shot my own load all over the inside of the cab, hitting the steering wheel, the dash and the windshield, in one of the most explosive hand jobs I've ever had! The Tejon Pass sign flashed by just at that moment: we all reached the summit together.

Well, one way or another Jack and I put ourselves back together. Briefly, I was able to concentrate on my driving, and finally managed to pass the rig I'd been following for so long. As I pulled alongside, I glanced over and recognized two guys I knew, one of whom was busy with a rag mopping something off the windshield.

Afternoon at the movies

All week the temperature hung well below zero and the snow flew fast and furious. After three days winter storm finally let up and the sun came out and shone brightly on the virgin white landscape. After being holed up in the house for three days I felt the need to escape the companionship of my two dogs and find some more human company. I let the dogs out to frolic in the snow while I showered & changed into some old clothes; jeans, t-shirt, and my old worn denim jacket. After putting the dogs into the basement, I grabbed my Tigers cap and pulled it over my curly black hair and walked out the door.

Surprisingly most of the roads had been cleared of the snow and traffic was moving well as I drove to a dingy little porno theatre on the down side of the city, but they show gay films and have a back room where everything goes. It's one place where the hunting for cock is always good. Stepping up to the plexiglass window, I paid my ten bones and was buzzed into the outer sanctum. After a few moments my eyes adjusted to the promising darkness inside from the blinding glare of the snow outside. On the screen a blond buffed muscular stud had started to slide his fat cock into the upturned bubble butt of a dark haired buffed muscular stud lying on his back with his ass hanging over the edge of a pool table. The camera was set to a standard angle to watch the big cockhead slowly slide past his partner's ass muscle. The dark haired guy taking it up the ass moaned loudly. The moan changed to a rehearsed yelp of surprise as the rest of that condom latex covered dick was indelicatly smashed inside him with no warning. The blond's balls hung low and swung like two golf balls in a hairy sack, that they slapped against the pool table.

Watching all this action were the usual homely guys, but patience is this hunter's ally. As the people came into view I started scanning for some prey. Leaning along one wall a guy was watching the movies...and the guys. He was short and stocky with muscles that bulged under midnight black skin, fully stuffing his T-Shirt. He watched me staring at him, then his eyes wandered somewhere else. Finally my eyesight had adjusted well enough to allow me to navigate down the outside aisle to the inner sanctum behind the screen. The light from the movie screen (where the blond guy was saying "yeah...you like that, doncha faggot...") more than enough to see my way by. A red bulb over the doorway cast a dark light over a small part of the room, leaving the rest in complete darkness. Someone lit a cigarette to my left as I walked in, with glasses and a moustache he wasn't too bad. That brief and dim light revealed a few figures standing around the room. There was a old man on his knees slurping another's crotch. A stocky black man with a bushy moustache and a skinny white kid met my eyes before the match was extinguished.

Making my way, slowly, around several others towards the darkened part of the room to find an empty space between the two who had caught my eyes. I stood there for several minutes, listening to the soundtrack of fucking on the other side of the wall and the slurping noises from the old man across from me. A furtive cold hand touched my arm, and then crept towards my open jacket. The black man's profile against the lighted part of the room turned toward me as I returned the caress.

As one hand played over my chest as I felt his other hand on my leg. Reaching down I found his quiescent and uncut cock hanging out of his pants. He was just starting an erection, but the dark dick in my hand was already thick and weighty with promise. I played with the head hiding under the foreskin as the kid unzipped my jeans, with my dick straining towards freedom it came out of my jeans like a spring. A hand was reaching between my legs roughly handling my cock. When he freed me from the constriction of my pants I knelt and started on the dark feast in front of me.

The scene in the movie playing on the other side of the wall had obviously changed. A couple of guys were talking. "Yeah, I'm horny." Said a voice. "My brother used to take care of me when my girlfriend was being a bitch and not putting out. But with both of 'em gone, my nuts have a full load that I need to dump."

The kid pulled his shirt over his head to expose a slim hairy twenty-something chest, and was now standing next to me. One hand was feeling my face and the spit slick shaft sliding in and out of my mouth, like a blind man, while his other hand was running through my hair. I reached over to draw him towards me. Playing with his crotch through the fabric of his worn sweat pants it felt like another feast was close at hand. The kid's cock was long and thin, unlike than the monster fucking my throat.

As I worked the monster shaft into my face, it started to swell with blood. Soon two large hands held the backside of my head and started to force feed my face. I felt his cock grow even larger in my throat as he held my head, it was like trying to swallow a lead pipe. Wanting more than just a cock sticking out of a pair of pants, I undid the button and belt and slid his pants and underwear to his knees. With one hand I played with his ass, while the other found his balls. There was a light covering of kinky hair on his legs, but a virtual forest in his butt. The balls in their fuzzy sack were slightly larger than ping pong balls and they hung so low they bounced off the back of my chin while he fucked my face.

As he pulled my head into his crotch and I breathed deeply the strong musky scent between his legs. The taste of his cock was delightful, clean and masculine. Soon I had the mushroom head of his dick bouncing at the back of my throat. As he reached over to fondle the kid's cock, I grabbed his hips and forced my face down his shaft. My throat felt stretched to it's limit as it was forced around that fat cockhead. There was a sharp gasp from above as he doubled over me, while trying to keep his dick so deep in my throat. A thick bush of dark kinky hair played across my nose as I came off him, gagging slightly. We repeated this performance a couple of more times with the kid fondling both of us.

The kid was exploring my mouth as I sucked the fat black dick deeper into my throat. He'd feel my throat as it expanded to welcome the pile-driving flesh. While using his other hand to pull on the other guy's huge balls, When I finally pulled away for a quick breath, the kid's cock was right there waiting for my services. The stocky man I had just been servicing pushed my head towards the new cock on the block. After the stretching he'd given my throat, the kid's dick slid right in without any resistance at all. The salty taste of his pre-cum was all the encouragement I needed to greedily gulp him down.

As I shifted slightly, to get better access to his cool crotch, four hands started playing with my hair. The kid was gently pulling on my crown, the guy had drawn my hair back and was holding it like a ponytail. The kid's nuts weren't as big as the guy's, but they hung as low, knocking against my chin as I bobbed on his cock. There was a hard wet dick playing across my ear, with balls resting on my shoulder, and he reached over to caress the kid's stomach and chest. Those legs pegged me where I was...and he pushed me from behind, encouraging me to slurp faster or deeper.

Soon I realized how he also had a grip on the kid's flanks to shove him deeper into my throat. The kid has worked the stocky guy's shirt up and was leaning over to suck on his nipples, while still playing with my hair & feeling himself sliding in and out of my mouth. Eventually the older guy rubbed the side of my face with his softening cock. Asking to be brought back to full attention? I complied gladly, and the kid used one hand to keep himself hard while continuing to working on the guys tits. Again that fleshy cock started to grow in reaction to my ministrations. Soon it was stretching my throat again. Suddenly the guy stepped back and pulled me up to a standing position. "Go ahead a keep sucking the kid's dick." He directed my head down to the kid's crotch again, this time keeping hold of my hips, keeping them high in the air.

Suddenly there a foot was pushing my feet apart, exposing the hungry hole in my ass to the large monster somewhere behind me. As I guzzled on the slim cock in front of me, my other end was being played over. A fat dickhead was rubbing up and down my exposed ass. Rubbing around on my upturned ass cheeks. We heard the sound of him spitting on his dick, then on my ass.

The movie on the other side intruded on us, again. Some "virgin" was being plied with alcohol. "I don't know," the actor said in his best innocent voice, "I've never done anything like this before." My face was pushed hard into the groin in front of me as he pierced my ass with just spit. Gently but firmly the head of his cock was shoved into my ass. Past ass cheeks. Past sphincter. Only a groan escaped from me into the kids crotch, his short hairs tickled my nose. Once the cockhead was inside my body he stopped for a moment, giving me a moment to work on the kid slowly...and take a breath. The he grabbed my hips, and pushed. Hard and steady!!

With one stoke he skewered me like a suckling pig to be roasted. That one stroke felt like he'd pushed his way into my stomach. That one stroke shoved me into the unsuspecting kid, who almost ended up on his ass. I held onto the kid (with my hands and mouth) to keep my balance. Then he started a pounding rhythm with us, pulling his dick out so the head was just inside my body, then press all the way in again. Some of the guys finally figured out that something was going on in our corner, and lit their lighters to get a better view of the three of us. It was like being at a concert, the flickering light showing off the my sexual forte. The buffed guy that traded glances with me out in the theatre was watching from behind a couple of other guys.

Soon the kid was starting to pant heavily. his balls had long since drawn tight against the underside of his cock. He grabbed the back of my head and taking control, furiously fucked my face. Suddenly with a last lunge he shoved his cock all the way down my throat and doubled over my back. He started making a deep guttural grunting sound. I felt his cum pulsing through his cock, but it was shoved so deep into my throat that there was no chance for me to taste it. My own cock leaked furiously.

The guy behind me had slacked off a bit while this was happening. I kept slurping on the kid after he shot off, and he didn't soften up even a little bit. There were remains of a sweet and tangy taste on his, now sensitive, head.

The guy in my ass leaned over me and thrust with his hips forcing his cock deeper into me at a different angle. The pace and power of his thrusts started to pick up. He kept knocking me forward into the kid. Suddenly I feel him leaning on my back, softly biting my shoulder to stifle his grunting. As I feel his dick pumping my guts full of his cum my dick suddenly erupts. Cum streaks between the kid's legs as I pull off his dick to keep from choking.

Without warning the dick still buried in my ass starts to spasm again, pumping more white juice into me set off by my own shots. The kid pulls away and starts feeling up someone else standing on his other side. The other guy nuzzles my neck briefly, then pulls his softening cock out of my ass and backs off into a corner.

I slumped to my knees feeling just a bit worn out, when the guy from out front walks up to me. He taken in my performance with the other guys, I had seen him standing behind some other guys. In front of me now, he pulled out his dick. Both longer and thicker than the other two I'd just had and hung over his jeans like an overripe unpeeled banana. As he caressed my face with one hand he pushed his jeans lower with the other. Showing off another dark and low slung scrotum and kinky black pubic hair and the hardening cock now rubbing against my face. His lower abdomen was also covered with a fine kinky hair, and his legs were like two ebony marble columns supporting the whole temple. And I was the acolyte to worship there.

"I'd like to get some of that, too."