On Saturday I technically paid for sex, but it was so good and worth it that I feel compelled to blog about it!
And just so you all know, I’ll be sanitizing the story for the benefit of some of my readers. There are probably some who don’t enjoy being dick-smacked (much like I was– heh heh) with all the gooey details.
Did I say gooey? I meant gory. Yeah, that’s it.
gore 1 (gôr, gr)
Speaking of horns… let’s just assume for the sake of argument that I’m a fairly horny guy. AND I’m a gay guy, so that like quadruples the horniness factor, right? Well, Saturday morning rolled around and I found myself bored and very VERY horny.
Aside: My already quadrupled horniness was doubled again because sex that I was supposed to have on Friday night never materialized. Which as it turns out was a good thing, but at the time…Grrr.
Well, online on Saturday was a guy that I’ve been chatting with for quite some time. We had never hooked up though because his job takes him all over the country and he’s rarely home.
Because he’s a trucker.
Oh yeah, that’s right. I got me some trucker ____ing this weekend! Feel free to fill in the blank however you deem apropriate.
Just so that you are aware, I have a set hierarchy of “Professions for Fantasy Sex”. The list goes something like this:
- State Trooper
- Police Officer
- Professional Athlete
- UPS Driver
- Army Drill Sargent
- Working Cowboy
- Evangelical Priest
As you can see, “trucker” ranks right up there on my list. It seems like such a hypermasculine profession to me. Plus there’s just something about seeing those dudes muscling around those 18-wheelers while I’m driving around in my convertible. They always look down when I pass by…
Mr. Trucker was actually HOME on Saturday, and was thankfully just as horny as I was. We decided that it was high time that we finally meet up. Naturally I would have preferred the meeting to take place IN his rig, diesel engine all throbbing… but he drove to my place instead.
Because of the Jazz Fest, parking was at a premium. He eventually found metered parking outside my building, but then called up to inform me that he didn’t have any change to feed the meter.
I ran down and put in as many quarters as I had handy– good enough for about an hour and a half. I figured that given our respective states of excitement, this should be enough time.
Mr. Trucker is probably in his early 40’s, thin, handsome, scorchingly bright blue eyes, masculine, and a very nice guy. He even arrived wearing cowboy boots– just an added bonus in my book.
Mr. Trucker also has quite a BIG rig as it turns out. AND he sure knew how to drive it!
Although come to think of it, he did have some trouble parking his EIGHT(teen wheeler), as he kept having to reverse, then drive forward, then reverse, and drive forward. Again and again and again…
Jesus take the WHEEL!
Let me just say it was some of the best sex I’ve had in awhile. It was mind-numbing, toe-curling, eye-crossing sex. The kind where everything just seems to work and feel intense and incredible and hitting ALL the right spots and you don’t want it to end.
It was the kind of sex that after a solid hour of him “trying to parking it” I looked up and was like, we’re done already? You need to grind those gears again!
It was the kind of sex where I was being loud, my windows were open, and I didn’t give a fuck what my neighbors or the families walking by on the street thought.
It was the kind of sex that left me in a hot, sweaty, lubey, sticky, crumpled, exhausted mess– and I LOVED it!
Oh, and for the record? When Mr. Trucker finally released the load he’d been hauling around for what must have been a week, it gave a whole new meaning to Bush’s catchphrase “shock and awe”.
And I gotta tell you, I want another ride goddamnit! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!! Too bad he had to “go to work” today. Who knows the next time he’ll be in town? And available?
P.S. The meter had expired when he finally got back to his car.