Georgia Truck Stop
By: Ron Nelson
(© 2015 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
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Wham, ugh, wham, ugh, wham, ugh! Rusty stabbed his hard man-sword repeatedly deep into the older man’s butt, driving his big tool as far as it would go into the man’s big and muscular body, while his own hard balls slammed and were crushed each time against the older man’s solid butt cheeks.
In addition to jamming his steel cock rod as hard and as deep as he could into the older man’s butt, he also alternated between wrapping his muscular arms around the man’s bull neck to choke him, even though it didn’t seem to have any effect on him, and, with his powerful fingers, tried to crush the man’s enormously heavy pecs through the thick mat of his steel wool chest hair.
None of it made any difference to the older and heavily muscled man underneath him, who was also shackled by the fifteen inch steel chain which ran between the steel handcuffs which encircled his thick wrists. All the other man underneath him said, as he groaned under Rusty’s punishment, was “More!”
Rusty recalled a couple of weeks ago when another older and powerfully muscled man in a gym in Jacksonville where he and the older man worked out, when he and the other man had been wrestling in the back mat room after the gym had closed for the night.
That bigger and older man liked to take a lot of punishment, and Rusty was good at giving it without actually doing any injuries . The older man Rusty had wrestled with, whom he was recollecting now, liked to be treated roughly.
Rusty was glad to oblige him as he liked to wrestle older and bigger men. He also liked it when they gave him a hard time in return as well.
That older man, he was recollecting now, gave him $100 after their match, and told him any time he wanted another hundred, to just give him a call. Rusty planned to do just that next time he got back to Jax. Meanwhile, here and now, was this big and powerfully built, and older, truck driver whom he’d just met a couple hours ago looking for the same.
‘Rusty’ Hynge was driving his big semi- northbound on I-95, about twenty-five miles south of Savannah, when the country music station he was listening to was suddenly interrupted by a call from his dispatcher in Jacksonville.
He drove for Ajax Movers, a general cargo trucking company, based in Jacksonville, which transported cargo mostly between Florida and Maryland. Rusty wasn’t too surprised to get the urgent call from the dispatcher.
Before he left, the “tropical depression” which the NWS had been following was expected to build up, quite possibly, to a hurricane force. However, it was expected to remain well off shore and head up to Hatteras well on out to sea.
Instead, as the radio had announced in a program interruption just a few minutes before, the “tropical depression” had instead changed to become Hurricane Gaspard, its winds had increased from 50 miles an hour to over 90 miles an hour, and its course had veered sharply to the west and was expected to cross on to land somewhere below Charleston, South Carolina.
Rusty had already sort of figured all that out himself. At age 23 now, he’d been driving almost two years and been through some bad weather before. Rain and wet roads themselves added to the problem of keeping his big rig steady on the road, as well as increasing his stopping distance. Heavy rain and spray made it worse. And a bigger problem, if it existed, was with any significant wind, which made it still worse yet.
Below 30 mph, wind wasn’t any particular problem. If it was 30 to 50 mph, that could make handling a rig tricky, particularly if the load he was carrying was on the light side or if the wind was gusty or shifty. Anything over that could be bad news in a hurry.
So now, with a hurricane not far off, the rain getting heavier almost by the minute, and the winds picking up too, the total package didn’t look good. Further, he was hauling only a light load, which increased the hazard even more.
His dispatcher knew that, however, which is why he now got on the radio to every one of his trucks on the road. In his message, he told Rusty “I see on the GPS you’re at milepost 78 on I-95. So get off at Exit 82 and then head east on the state road to Savage’s Truck Stop. It’s about three miles east of the exit. It’s a small place, but we use it in emergencies. I’ve made a reservation for you to spend the night there. They can secure the truck, and they have small bunk rooms for the drivers. We have an account with them, so you should be okay all around. Have a good night, Rusty” was the dispatcher’s final words.
“Thanks, Ernie, will do!” was Rusty’s grateful reply. That’s why he liked working for Ajax Trucking. They paid attention to what was going on, and took good care of their drivers.
About twenty minutes later, in a driving rain so bad he almost couldn’t see through the streaming windshield, and with the big semi- being buffeted on all sides by the increasing wind, all of which made keeping his big rig on the road and under control more difficult, he pulled into the truck parking area of Savage’s Truck Stop.
As he pulled in, he saw a man, dressed in a heavy duty orange rain slicker, come out from a shelter and direct him, using his waterproof flashlight, to park close next to another big truck which had apparently come in just before him.
After he got parked and got out of his cab to step into the driving wind and rain to go up to the office and small restaurant of the truck stop, another big rig came in and was directed to park immediately next to his on the other side. All the rigs, parked closely together, would protect each other from the ravages of the hurricane, which was increasing in intensity by the minute.
Inside the office, Rusty checked in with the middle-aged but smiling lady who evidently was in charge of the parking operations. A few other drivers were standing around, most of them soaking wet from the run between their trucks and the office, as was Rusty, and most of them on their cell phones checking in with their dispatchers.
The lady, a name tag around her neck said “Maude,” smiled up at him when he told her who he was.
What she saw was a hunky young man, in his early 20’s, about six-zero, maybe about 175, lanky but obviously muscular and well built, nice smile, and dark crew-cut hair. His dripping wet t-shirt and Levi’s, which clung to his body, showed the definition of his lithe and leanly muscular build.
‘Ummm yeah,’ she thought, ‘now if was about twenty years younger and I wasn’t already married, I might like to get to know this hunky young man better!’ Some of the other drivers who weren’t too busy on their phones had similar thoughts as they looked at him out of the corner of their eyes.
“Yes, Rusty,” she said, your dispatcher called and we’re expecting you. You’ve already been checked in. We’ve assigned you to room 19, down the driver’s wing there, where you can sleep. Bath room at the end of the hall. Due to the hurricane, the restaurant will be open all night. Just charge whatever you eat to your account, and your company will take care of it.”
“Thank you ma’am,” was Rusty’s smiling reply. “I appreciate the room, but I may just sleep in my rig as all my gear is there. But I’ll be in for some chow. Much obliged!”
‘Oh yeah,’ thought one burly driver standing right behind him and overhearing the conversation, ‘I wouldn’t mind eating some of that, which isn’t the sort of thing to get charged to any kind of account, for sure!’
The burly driver had come in immediately following Rusty and parked right next to him. He was probably about five-ten, but must have weighed at least two-ten, spread evenly over his whole square body. He looked to be about forty or so years old. His shaved skull, bull neck, with his drenched t-shirt clinging to his body just like Rusty’s, showed a massive build with the pecs and biceps of a power lifter, legs and thighs like beer barrels, and a chest a solid mat of steel gray hair, which made a considerable contrast to his shaved skull. He looked like a driver with a lot of experience. Sort of like a tatooed mature bull gorilla in the wilds of Africa. Whatever, Rusty thought he looked like a very impressive package, for sure.
He also looked like a man somebody would have to think very seriously before having any kind of serious argument with him if it might mean squaring off physically against him. Every so often drivers did get into fights, mostly overwomen, drinks or other minor things. But with this man? A guy would be advised better not.
After leaving Maude so that she could take care of the bull driver right behind him, Rusty figured he’d first run back to his rig to close it down properly for the night and write up his daily report. Then head back to the restaurant for supper before it might have to close down anyway if the hurricane started knocking down power lines. Then back to his rig where he could watch television for a while, maybe read a couple of wrestling magazines he had back there, and then sack out for the night in the truck’s cab bed.
The supper was good, although the lights did begin to flicker as he finished off his plate and cherry pie. He was glad he ate while he had the chance. Then he ran back to his rig through the hurricane wind and driving rain where he planned to settle in for the night.
As he got into the cab, the din and impact of the approaching hurricane was almost overwhelming. The driving rain pounded down on the roof and sides of the big semi-, while the increasing wind shook the rig from side to side. He was glad he had the protection of the other rigs closely parked next to and around him.
It was about ten when, in addition to all the noise of the hurricane, he became aware of a repeated knocking on the rig. It was on the right side. Somebody was pounding on the door.
In the darkness and rain he could hardly see what or who it was. But then, in the flashes of lightning, he could see it was the dripping wet appearance of the burly driver who was right behind him at check-in, and who was now parked next to him.
He still looked like a gorilla, but a sort of grin covered his face.
It was quickly matched by a grin from Rusty’s own face as he leaned over to open the door for him. The man quickly climbed into Rusty’s cab to sit next to him, leaving no small puddle of rainwater on the seat and floor.
“Hey man,” said the burly older driver seated next to him, now not only dripping wet from rain water, but also sweat from the heat and humidity of the hurricane and also the exertion from his quick run between the two rigs.
“I saw you at check-in, and you’re a real hunk, you know! Got any plans for the night?” the man asked, a smile on his lined and leathery wet face.
“Not so far,” was Rusty’s easy reply. “Maybe just read a couple of my magazines here, then watch some television, and then sack out. Not much else to do!” Rusty thought the man, even though he looked like a gorilla, was sort of an attractive hunk in his own way too. Maybe some possibilities there.
Saying that, Rusty picked up a couple of his magazines and showed them to the man next to him. “Wrestling In India - Anything Goes” was the title of one magazine. “The Pleasures of Wrestling” was the feature article of the other magazine. Both showed pictures of two nearly naked wrestlers locked in combat with each other.
“Hey man, I like these!” said the driver. “You into rasslin’ like this?”
“Oh yeah,” came back Rusty’s reply. “So long as nobody gets hurt, I like anything to do with rasslin‘, however it comes out!”
“Man, I like to rassle too. Used to rassle in the old armory circuit down in south Georgia. That was until I got sort of banged up once too often, and needed to get me a steady job and income anyway. I’m all ok now, but not that many guys want to mess with me ‘cause of my size and maybe looks, even though I tell them they can do whatever they like to me, and I’m not going to get back at them no matter what.
“Maybe, as we got nothing else going on, ‘cept this storm, maybe you’d like to rassle around some? I’d go defense, so you can do whatever you want with me. If I can’t escape whatever you’re doing to me, I’ll submit. Whatever you want is good with me. My name’s Jake.”
“Rusty here, Jake. Yeah, sounds good to me! I’ve been sitting so long all day I need to get to move around some, and I know what you mean. Not too many guys into rasslin’ these days. And yeah, I think I wouldn’t mind pounding on you some too if you don’t mind. Or let me know if you do. Anything goes?”
“Yeah, Rusty, ‘anything goes.’ And coming from a hunk like you, it’s especially ‘anything goes’!”
They agreed they’d get together in about twenty minutes. Jake went back to his semi’s cab to finish up a couple of reports he had to do before he’d forget or lose the information, while Rusty also need to finish up his own work. After that, they’d see what might happen.
Twenty minutes later, Rusty flashed his flashlight through the sheets of rain over to Jake’s cab to see if he was ready, which he was, and motioned for Rusty to come on over.
Rusty slid over to the right side of his cab, got out and spotted the small side door to Jake’s trailer, which he had mentioned Rusty should come over to. Jake had it opened and was standing there to get him in quickly before he got totally wet or blown away. The open door showed a small light inside. The door was unusual in a trailer, but it was built for better and easier loading of small items instead of having to fully open the big rear doors of the trailer.
The muscular and lithe Rusty jumped, in three strides, and made it to Jake’s trailer, getting only partially wet from the raging storm. Jake, inside the trailer waiting for him, was already stripped down to what must have been an XXXL jockstrap, which, even so, barely held in its big and bulging load of all the big man’s tools.
Rusty’s own jockstrap, which was all he wore for the occasion, was an XL, as he was very well endowed too. The hurricane made the night hot and humid, as well as stormy, and there was no need for them to wear any more, considering what they had in mind to do with each other anyway.
Jake was hauling only about half a trailer’s worth, and had spread a half dozen soft cargo mats in a cleared-off area, about ten by ten, at the back of the trailer. It was half in darkness, with only the overhead security light to provide any illumination. It was just sufficient to see by and, of course, a guy doesn’t really need any light to wrestle by anyway.
‘Umm yeah,’ thought Rusty, checking out the set-up. ‘I think Jake maybe has done this before. Looks good to me if he means what he says and isn‘t some raving maniac!’
Jake had apparently just been outside checking something on the back of his trailer and was still wet from that, and Rusty was wet from his dash between the two trailers. But no problem with that, as rasslin’ wet and sweaty was only normal. And, both dressed only in jock straps but otherwise naked, there was no problem with wet clothes or anything like that either.
They didn’t waste much time getting into it.
“Man,” said Jake, “I sort of like to get beat up when I’m rasslin’ with another guy, particularly one who’s as good looking as you. And from rasslin’ around on the circuit, I’m sort of used to taking a lot of punishment. So you do whatever you like, and I’ll let you know if it gets to be too much.”
“Okay, Jake,” was Rusty’s reply, “I think I can handle that. And if you want to get back at me, that’s ok too!”
The contrast between them was considerable. The heavier and stockier older man, with his thick arms, heavy pecs, big stomach and legs which looked like beer barrels, almost totally covered with his thick mat of iron gray hair all over his body except for the palms of his hands, soles of his feet, and his shaved skull, were considerably different from the lean, lithe, well defined and smooth muscular body of the good looking younger man.
Who knew how it would turn out when they got to wrestling around with each other in the dimly lit semi-trailer parked in the truck parking lot of Savage’s Truck Stop during the night of Hurricane Gaspard?
Jake began it by dropping to his hands and knees on the cargo mats spread out on the floor of the trailer, inviting Rusty to attack him however he liked. Rusty didn’t hesitate. He wanted to get into it just as much as Jake did.
Jake had a thing about liking to wrestle with hunky younger guys. Rusty had a thing about liking to wrestle with gorilla-like hairy older guys. They were a good match.
Rusty landed on Jake’s big back and immediately began to ride him as hard as he could. Jake had told him to do whatever he liked, and he took Jake at his word.
Rusty quickly wrapped both of his long legs around Jake’s waist, like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco, to hold on, and smashed his feet and heels hard into Jake’s crotch and against the heavy mass of his hanging thick cock and balls enclosed in his tight and bulging jock strap. Jake’s big male sack was already thick and hard in anticipation of the beating it would most likely soon have to take from Rusty, just as Rusty’s own full cock and thick balls were already heavily aroused in anticipation of what he was thinking was coming up next too.
After positioning his feet to smash heavily into Jake’s crotch, Rusty reached his muscular arms around Jake’s upper body and, through the thick mass of his chest hair, seized both of Jake’s big and hanging pecs in his fists. They were as big as grapefruits, and of about the same hardness.
Soon, Rusty could feel the flesh of Jake’s pecs almost squeezed out between his powerful truck driver’s hands and fingers. He began to wonder if they mightn’t tear open, like a grapefruit’s skin, and burst out between his fingers. But they held, and all Rusty heard, instead of the sound of Jake’s muscle and flesh bursting out, was Jake growling, “More!”
For a moment, Rusty continued his punishment. But then he saw, at least for the moment, that that wasn’t enough for Jake. So he released one of his fists and arms from crushing Jake’s pecs in his fists, and began to wrap it tight around Jake’s bull neck in a choke hold to cut off his air.
But then that didn’t work either as Jake’s neck muscles and thickness were greater than Rusty’s ability to crush then in the crook of his elbow.
‘Man,’ thought Rusty, ’this guy is tough. But I guess that’s what he likes, so if it’s ok with him, it’s ok with me!’
For another couple of minutes Rusty continued his attack on the heavy body of the older truck driver underneath him, but nothing worked. He tried to get a full nelson on Jake, and succeeded in getting the hold. But, again, Jake’s neck was so strong Rusty, who was powerfully strong himself, made little impression on Jake.
Then Jake made his own move back on Rusty, who wondered what might now happen to him in return for what he’d just been doing to Jake. In a slow but unstoppable move, Jake reached out and grabbed one of Rusty’s hands, the one crushing his right pec, and, pulling down on it, pulled Rusty off his back and down to his side.
And then, following up on that, with Rusty momentarily on his back next to Jake, Jake rolled over, like and elephant rolling over in the dirt, to come down almost on top of him.
For an instant, Rusty was afraid Jake was going to roll clear over on top of him and maybe crush him under his enormous weight and bulk. But he needn’t have been alarmed.
In coming down on him, Jake stretched out sideways, face-down, beside him so that most of his weight remained on the cargo mats on the floor. Only Jake’s upper body and chest was positioned on top of Rusty. Rusty never had any problem with another wrestler getting on top of him. He always like the feel of that anyway. And it looked like Jake was going to put only part of his weight on top of him.
Jake then shifted around, however, until he positioned one of his massive pecs over Rusty’s face and the other over Rusty’s chest. From there he then lowered himself down until he’d dropped his chest down so that Rusty’s mouth was soon covered and then filled with the great mass of Jake’s heavy pec and chest hair in it.
‘Ummm, yeah,’ thought Rusty, ‘he’s making me eat it, but I’m sure likin’ what he’s doing!’
Jake wasn’t sure what Rusty’s reaction would be with such a move. He got his answer, however, when Rusty reached up and got a tight neck lock around Jake’s bull neck to bring him in even closer.
Then Jake took it another step and reached his right arm out over Rusty’s lithely long and muscular body underneath him, through his crotch, to grab and squeeze one of Rusty’s butt cheeks. Jake saw that Rusty had already become highly aroused with their wrestling around, and almost crushed Rusty’s engorged cock and balls in the elbow of his arm while grabbing one of Rusty’s butt cheeks. But then Jake pulled his arm back and instead seized Rusty’s big and bulging cock and balls, the whole package, in his ham-sized fist.
He didn’t crush Rusty’s tool box too tight, however, until he could get Rusty’s reaction to it. After all, Jake had told Rusty to do anything he liked with him, but Rusty hadn’t exactly come back and said the same thing to Jake.
Jake soon knew that while he wouldn’t ever use his full force against the younger man anyway, apparently Rusty like some real punishment himself too.
In this case, with Jake’s big pec still filling his mouth and Jake crushing his big and heavily aroused cock and balls in his fist, Rusty’s response to Jake was to extend one of his arms out under Jake and seize his own huge grapefruit-sized load of cock and balls, also now heavily aroused, and began to crush it in his own strong fist.
For a couple of long minutes they remained locked together, almost motionless, as each tried to crush the other’s big tool box in his fist while enduring the same punishment on his own. Neither could get enough of it.
The two wrestling truck drivers remained silently locked together inside the semi’s darkened trailer, with their crushing cock and ball holds on each other, while Hurricane Gaspard roared, pounded and rocked their trailer back and forth on the outside.
After a couple of minutes in that deadlock, Jake knew it was time for him to roll off Rusty before he tired him out too much. As soon as he did, however, and Rusty felt himself free again, he twisted and leaped on top of Jake who was once again on his back.
This time, Rusty straddled and kneeled on top of Jake with one knee on Jake’s ample but strong stomach, and his other knee and long leg crushing down on top of Jake’s bulging cock and balls, almost crushing them under his weight. At the same time as he kneed the powerful truck driver under him, he also leaned over on top of Jake’s upper body and first, once again, moved to crush his enormously big pecs in his fists through the heavily matted hair which covered them.
But then, after setting Jake’s big pecs up to almost crush them in his fists, he released his hand grip on them and began to punch them, alternating first to Jake’s left pec and then his right back and then his left again. Wham, wham, wham!
His first blows were pretty hard, Rusty thought, but when he saw Jake’s grin, which clearly asked for more, Rusty, who’d participated in his share of street fights growing up, increased the power of his blows to make them harder and harder on Jake’s pecs even more. The blows were softened maybe just a little by the thick mat of Jake’s chest hair and by the thick layer of muscle and flesh which made up his pecs. But still, the blows were almost as hard as he could drop them. Soon he was soon getting more tired than Jake while Jake only grinned at him and still asked for more.
For almost half an hour, Rusty tried his damnedest to beat and punish Jake all he could, just like Jake had told him to before they began. But nothing he had done yet could make Jake submit or even tell him to ease up on him. Jake was tough. It was like beating on that wild African gorilla. And the more Rusty beat on him, the more Jake liked it and the less impression it made on him.
Now it was almost an hour since they’d started their fight. Mainly, Jake stayed down, with Rusty on top of him. Sometimes facing forward, sometimes facing back. Sometimes in a full body press and other times kneeling and working over some of Jake’s outer parts. More and more, too, both wrestlers were getting increasingly sexually aroused with their beating on each other, as Jake wasn’t letting Rusty have things all to himself and frequently got back on Rusty, except more lightly.
And, more and more, Rusty attacked the big burly Jake’s huge load of male equipment, crushing and pulling back hard on his ever-lengthening big man-rod, and crushing his balls. And Jake’s reaching around whatever way he could to punish and abuse Rusty’s own big load and ever-hardening cock and balls in return.
Rusty liked the punishment he was giving Jake as he had a tough mind and liked to let it all out when he could, while liking Jake’s coming back at him at intervals only fired him to get back even harder on Jake. too. A real good S&M situation, for sure, getting both of the wrestlers even more aroused as they worked each other over.
Jake knew that while he liked all the punishment Rusty was giving him, and he was ready for more, that Rusty himself was beginning to get tired. In fact, Rusty had been doing most of the work in punishing him, while all Jake had to do was mainly to withstand the blows. As a result, Rusty’s more youthful adrenalin, while there was a full load of it to start with, was beginning to run down. And, just as importantly, the pounding and cock fighting they’d been doing, and their big inside loads of hot creamy cum getting bigger and bigger all the time, meant that eventually their whole big battle in the back of the dark and humid semi-trailer would have to end.
A number of times, after freeing himself from Rusty’s latest punishment on him, Jake had gotten to his hands and knees on the heavy cargo mats on the trailer floor. Then from there Rusty had repeatedly mounted him again to ride and punish him some more.
Each time they got in that position, Jake had also soon felt the long hard sword of Rusty’s big and increasingly aroused cock try to penetrate down into the deep, dark and wet canyon of his butt as it tried to find the entrance to his body.
Jake sensed and then knew that it was going to be Rusty’s ultimate intent to fuck him as hard and as roughly as he could until he forced him to submit and surrender to him.
Jake decided he’d give Rusty the chance to meet his goal. And himself get the pleasure of getting exactly what the good looking young stud wanted to give him.
But first, just a little something extra for Rusty to make his night even better. Under the cargo mat, Jake had hidden a pair of steel handcuffs attached to each other by a fifteen-inch length of steel dog chain.
As their fight was coming to an end, Rusty once again had a solid body press on the bigger, older truck driver, Rusty’s head over Jake’s head. It wasn’t easy to hold the big man down, but Rusty had wrapped his longer legs in a grapevine around Jake’s heavier legs and, at the same time, he’d wrapped one of his muscular arms around Jake’s neck to once again try to strangle him. The total was having no effect on Jake at all, however, and he was enjoying the attempted punishment the young hunk was giving him and turning him on too.
Then Jake reached, unseen by Rusty, to pull the handcuffs out from where he’d previously hidden them under the cargo mat and attached one cuff to each of his own wrists.
Suddenly Rusty saw that the older man was not only taking all the blows and punishment that he was giving him, but Jake was furthering his own predicament by shackling his hands and arms together to limit his own ability to resist the blows and withstand the intentions of whatever Rusty had in mind for him next.
The length of chain between the handcuffs gave Jake just enough spread to catch himself if he fell or lost his position, but not enough to use to get back at Rusty.
‘Damn,’ thought Rusty, ‘this guy is not just a tough son-of-a-bitch, he really is a masochist! But then, oh yeah, if that’s what turns him on, it’s sure ok with me!’
Now handcuffed and unable to do much more, Jake managed one final time, as he had from time to time before during their long mat to get out from under Rusty, which was no small feat in itself, to once again get to his hands and knees on the cargo mat.
The trailer was still almost totally dark, with only the small security light at the far end of the trailer from where he and Rusty were wrestling it out to the end, which was soon to come. Both wrestlers were wet with sweat in the hot and humid air of Hurricane Gaspard, which still raged just outside the trailer, but now they didn’t have all that much energy left to continue their fight with each other much longer.
Both Rusty and Jake knew the end of their long match was about to come.
Over and over again, when he had mounted Jake earlier, Rusty had tried repeatedly to force his big, long hard rod deep down between the hard and solid butt cheeks of the older man and find his way to the opening which he knew had to be there somewhere. Now, as their match was coming to an end, he finally found it.
Slowly positioning his man-sword just right so that he could stab it all the way in with all his strength and power, Rusty began to make his move. Having found what he was looking for, he then drove his big, long and sweat-slickened tool, at first slowly, but then faster and faster, in as deep as it would go.
Rusty had a big tool, he knew, but he expected Jake’s capacity to take it was just as great. It was only when Rusty felt his own big and thick balls, now as big as the ripe Georgia peaches he‘d hauled previously in his rides around Georgia, that he felt them slam against Jake’s big butt cheeks that he knew he couldn’t go in any farther.
But he was far enough in so that he could feel all the hot wetness of Jake’s inner tube wrap itself around his big rod as it penetrated as deeply as it could.
Once all the way in, and to keep it in place, he pulled his big pile driver out until Just the end kept the clamp open, and then rammed it all the way in again. And again. And again.
Each time he rammed it in he got a small grunt from the bigger and older gorilla truck driver who felt it inside him and then the slam of Rusty’s solid balls as they smashed against his big butt cheeks. Which brought no complaints from Jake. All he said, as Rusty slammed into him over and over again, was “Give it to me, man, all the way! More!”
Wham, ugh, wham, ugh, wham, ugh! In no time, Rusty’s mind went from a consciousness of what he was doing, to an animal-like ferocity, and pleasure, of what he was doing to Jake. And Jake, no less, was lost in his own pleasure of taking what Rusty was giving him. With both hoping it would go on forever.
But that was not to be. Inevitably, after all of their cock-fighting and punishment, mainly of Rusty on the older man, but Jake not losing a few opportunities to get back at Rusty, which Rusty never had any problem with at all, the time had come.
Suddenly, Rusty felt all of the big load of hot, sweet creamy cum juice that had been accumulating in his young body all through the match, suddenly race through its network of tubes to its outlet, the big, red and heart-shaped end of his monster tool, and explode out deep into the heart of the older man’s waiting body.
On and on it pulsed and flooded out as both wrestlers remained locked together until Rusty had unloaded his full load into Jake’s big, thick and hairy gorilla-like body.
It was only when the flood was totally drained and Rusty was exhausted that it finally ended. Then, slowly, they fell apart on the cargo mat and grinned at each other.
Jake then flicked the small clasp holding his handcuffs tight, and they fell off to the mat beside them. Then, freed of his handcuffs, the older man reached over and seized the younger man in an embrace which almost crushed Rusty. But the grins on their faces indicated it was a very happy embrace for both of them.
By now, although Hurricane Gaspard was still roaring about them, it was clear that the eye of the storm had passed somewhere north of them, and the wind and the rain were already beginning to abate.
Jake stood in the open side door of his trailer until Rusty got safely back inside the cab of his rig before he closed the door to his own trailer.
The next morning, when Rusty woke up from the bunk bed in his cab, he saw nothing but blue sky and sunshine overhead. The storm had cleared away completely overnight.
But when he looked over to check on Jake’s trailer next to him, the space was empty. Apparently Jake had already left to move on to wherever he was headed.
Rusty’s own destination was less than a hundred miles further north along I-95, and the dispatcher had already come on the line and told him that his destination people had been informed that he might not arrive there until noon.
When he went into the restaurant of Savage’s Truck Stop for breakfast, Maude was still on duty.
“Hope the storm didn’t bother you too much last night, Mr. Hunk Man,” she said, with a grin on her face.
“No ma’am,” was his easy reply. “Hardly noticed it with everything else going on!
“How about four eggs over light and a double order of pancakes and grits for my breakfast!”
“Comin‘ right up, Mr. Hunk Man!”