The Truck Driver (Workplace Encounters)

All Books, Workplace Encounters, Novellas, Contemporary

Chapter One

“PICKUP FOR Gordon Trucking?” At the gate to the tire factory south of Nashville, Tennessee, Joshua Becket handed the uniformed guard his documentation, trying to suppress a yawn. Ten hours of enforced rest after delivering his last cargo early evening the day before wasn't much use when he’d been unable to sleep more than three or four of them.

“Everything seems to be in order.” The guard looked up, dark eyes peering into Josh’s cab as if looking for contraband before meeting Josh’s gaze. “Drive straight ahead about three hundred feet, and the loading dock will be on your left. The guys there will know which trailer is yours.”

“Thanks.” Josh closed the window against the chill of an early March morning and focused on getting his semi to where he needed to be without causing any damage.

Fuck, but he was exhausted. The lack of financial security, which endangered the plans for his future, sat like a rock in the pit of his gut. It wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He might have just enough money to make his rent and get some food, but recent pay cuts had reduced the amount left to go into his savings account this month. Gordon Trucking, a medium-sized company with ten trucks and five semis, was more than a little old-fashioned, probably because it was family owned. He’d thought the ownership and smaller size would be an advantage, having hated his previous employer. They were big, very impersonal, and only did intrastate jobs. Barely out of high school, with a fresh commercial driver’s license, he hadn’t had much choice. Pretty much nobody wanted inexperienced drivers on long-haul jobs across the country.

The minute he’d turned twenty-one a little over three years ago, he had applied for several jobs with small and medium-sized companies. Had he made a mistake going with these guys? They’d seemed nice, and everything had gone well initially. But with the recent economic downturn, remaining competitive without modern equipment wasn’t happening. Hence, the recent pay cuts.

With a choice between either losing their jobs or accepting lower wages, all the employees had voted for staying on. Not even a union would have helped them. But with the lower pay and only a ridiculously low amount left to go into savings, Josh’s goal of saving up for his own rig moved further and further into the future each month. And without his own rig, he could never go for the more lucrative jobs he knew were out there.

Startled by his sudden arrival at the ramp, he slowed down and looked for someone in charge. A large, burly guy in overalls emphasizing his considerable muscle mass stood on the dock, clipboard in hand. Josh approached him, stopped the semi, and rolled down his window so they could talk.

“Gordon Trucking?” The overseer must have seen the logo on the outside of the cab.

“Yeah, looking for a load of tires to go to Ford’s Chicago Assembly.” Without the next freight consignment in sight, Josh wasn’t thrilled with a shipment he could get to within his eleven-hour work limit, but he had to take what was available.

“Third berth from the back.” Mr. I’m-in-charge nodded at him briefly. “Don’t forget to sign for it and drop the papers off on your way out.”

“Sure.” Josh almost shook his head. What did the guy take him for? A rank beginner? He chuckled as he drove toward the back of the dock, having to admit that strangers often underestimated his age.

Even though he’d turned twenty-four recently, he still got carded on a regular basis. Baby-face was one of the nicer nicknames his colleagues called him. What they or anyone else thought didn’t matter though. They’d never accept him. Truckers were a tough crowd, and only the manliest of the machos really thrived in this sort of environment. He might have the muscles to show for it, but at barely six feet, he wasn’t exactly a powerful presence. Not compared to some of the guys at Gordon Trucking, or some of the men he’d run into on the highway, at the many truck stops he frequented on a regular basis.

Maneuvering the semi to connect with the trailer and making sure everything connected safely took his full attention for the next twenty minutes or so. Once done, he returned the paperwork to the overseer, made his log entry, and drove out of the factory gates. Heading back toward I-24, following the directions of his company-issue handheld GPS, he finally relaxed a little.

The stops along the interstates were almost the best feature about his job. He loved being on his own, not bothered by anyone and getting to see different parts of the country. What went on at those truck stops though, was a real job perk. It gave him a national network for hooking up and anonymous sex, basically handed to him on the proverbial silver platter.

He’d been too scared to do anything while doing intrastate jobs, irrationally afraid someone might recognize him in his home state. Coming out or being “accused” of being gay wasn’t really an option in this industry. Sure, the Gay Truckers Association offered professional advice and resources for those courageous enough to admit their sexual orientation, but the day-to-day situation? Was very much in favor of being straight, white, and preferably male. Ideally you also had lots of muscles to prove your macho-ness, and if you dressed on the scruffy side of informal, nobody was going to hold that against you either.

So anonymous sex it would have to be for him. And that, thanks to the infamous truck-stop activities, was a hell of a lot more available to him in his current job than it ever had been before. Thank God for truck chasers! He might not be their ideal trucker, but the men and women (not that he looked at them) who cruised highway rest stops looking to fulfill their trucker stud fantasies usually weren’t too worried about the way he looked. The restroom corners and stalls they frequented were half-dark most of the time anyway.

A little over five hours later, he was ready for lunch. With a Petro Stopping Center and its great restaurant right ahead, his grumbling stomach and the clock agreed it was time for a break.

Josh had planned to eat first, since he was hungrier than he’d expected. But when he went to do his business and wash his hands before looking for a seat in the restaurant, a cute twink with curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a dimpled smile caught his attention. The guy leaned against the bathroom wall, provocatively licking his lips when Josh looked up from drying his hands. Where the hell had he come from? Josh was sure nobody had been in there when he’d first entered.

“Hey.” The dimples deepened.

“Hi.” Josh threw the paper towel into the waste bin and straightened himself.

“I love truckers.”

“Do you?” His eyebrow rose on its own volition.

“Yep.” The twink gave him a slow once-over, spending extra time on his quickly swelling bulge before turning those bright brown eyes upward again.

“Are you even old enough to be here?” Shit, he couldn’t believe he’d just said that, practically ready to card the guy. But Mr. Dimples didn’t look a day over sixteen. Not really his thing, but hey, if he was old enough to know what he was doing, who was Josh to stop him? A blow job was a blow job, after all.

The twink rolled his eyes and pulled what looked like a driver’s license from his back pocket with a long-suffering sigh. Josh knew the feeling and grinned as he checked the details. Nineteen, based on the year of birth on the document. He wouldn’t be able to recognize a fake ID, but he couldn’t be expected to be that diligent, could he?

“Cool.” Josh motioned toward the stall at the end, and the eager twink almost fell over his own feet as he practically ran into it, flattening himself against the wall to let Josh enter before he locked the door.

No further words were needed. The guy went to his knees, greedy hands at Josh’s belt before he could blink. The need in the twink’s eyes and the speed with which he had belt, button, and zipper opened flattered Josh and pushed him into full hardness. He couldn’t wait to get started. The slightly forbidden nature of what they were doing only increased his libido, and a small moan escaped his lips when the twink managed to pull down Josh’s jeans and underwear in one decisive, yet careful-not-to-hurt movement.

His cock sprang up, hard enough to slap the man’s chin. The guy didn’t seem to mind. With a quick grin, he took hold of the base, stuck out his delightfully pink and moist tongue, and licked Josh from base to tip.

Man, that feels good!

The twink hummed and closed his eyes as he swirled his tongue around the tip of Josh’s cock. Shivers of delight traveled straight from his cock to his balls, settling deep in his groin with an all too familiar warmth. When his enthusiastic admirer finally closed his lips around Josh’s cock and took the top half into his hot, wet mouth, Josh had a hard time not thrusting deeply into the tight cavity. He gripped the man’s head in both hands to have something to hold on to.

The guy nodded, held on to Josh’s hips, and sucked his cock all the way down until his nose hit Josh’s pubic hair. Tightening throat muscles right where they counted, around Josh’s sensitive glans, made him tremble with arousal.

“Gahhhhh!” Josh closed his eyes and threw back his head, colliding almost painfully with the stall’s wall. “Yes!”

Encouraged, the twink started bobbing his head in earnest, sucking Josh’s cock like a pro. Josh couldn’t hold back and started fucking the man’s face. He tried very hard not to go too deep, but the temptation overwhelmed him. Add the man’s clear desire to deep throat him and Josh lost it.

The suction when he pulled back felt heavenly, and the tight seal around the tip of his cock made him a little crazy. He wasn’t going to last very long. Fuck that! With absolutely no reason to hold back, he was coming right then.

“Shit!” One last deep push and ecstasy raced from the tip of his cock all the way up his spine as he emptied his balls into the twink’s very willing throat. Holding on to the other man’s head for balance, he stood there, trembling for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and pulling out.

At moments like these, being a trucker rocked.

 ©Serena Yates, 2015
All Rights Reserved

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