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From: The Naked Trucker <NakedTrucker@juno.com>
Subject: Trucker Encounter VI: "Weekend With an Old Friend" (m/m/m)
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----------------------------
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.

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