It was a cold and snowy evening like this one when it happened. The storm wasn't predicted and was more-or-less a total surprise. I would never have been taking that route had I known there was a storm blowing in.

I was returning home from a trip. There are a couple different routes I could have taken; the direct route, coming directly west through Kansas, into Denver and down; or the southern route, coming over across the panhandle of Texas and headed north into my home in Colorado.

When weather is bad, I prefer the southern route as it has more places to stop along the way. But the May blizzard had not been predicted by anyone and I was in the middle of nowhere when the visibility (and the traction) started to diminish drastically. I had just passed the last hotel about 30 miles back, the next exit that had services was a good 60 miles ahead.

It was the middle off the week, so the interstate belonged to me. Well, me, the few other business travelers, and the big rigs. And even they had started to get scarce this afternoon. I had seen no eastbound traffic on I-70 in nearly an hour, the snow was drifting over the lanes, and visibility was nearly zero when I came upon the overpass and decided to pull over.

Huddled what little shelter the bridge afforded from the windblown snow, I turned on the flashers, and turned off the car. The weather reports on the radio said that we could expect a good eight inches by sunrise and that the interstates had been closed all the way to Denver. Great! I was stuck and not really loving it! Well, at least I was prepared. I pulled the emergency box out of the trunk, had a bit of water, and wrapped-up in a blanket to wait out the storm.

Waking from a light doze a bit later I was looking into the loveliest blue eyes I had seen in quite a while. "Are you okay?" The voice (that I now realized must have roused me) repeated.

"Uh, yeah!" I returned, winding down the window a couple inches. "Thanks."

"Okay, I just thought I would check. Your windows were fogged so I knew there had to be someone in here, but there was no exhaust coming out of your tailpipe, so I wanted to check-in on you. Well if you need some warmth or some company, then feel free to come on over. I am just behind you. Name's Peter." He finished, offering a gloved hand.

In the small hole in the snow that crusted most of the mirror, I saw that a big rig had pulled up behind me under the bridge at some time while I was dozing. "Uh, Okay. Thanks." I said. Shaking the hand offered. "Thanks for the offer." The handshake lasted a bit longer than it had to. But I wasn't about to complain. This Peter, or what I could see of him, was really good looking!

He released my hand, gave me a wink and started walking back to his rig and I wound-up the window. It was cold in here. It was really cold in here. What the heck, I thought. I grabbed the thermos of coffee and followed my new friend to his rig.

"They stopped plowing a couple hours ago according to the reports." He told me as I offered some of the coffee I had left. "I was talking to a trooper a few miles away just before I came to check on you. He said that they expect the snow to keep it up 'til some time after midnight. They will start plowing again after it stops. He suggested I find a sheltered spot and pull over for the night."

We sipped our coffee, chatted about the storm, and exchanged a bit of information about ourselves. "Thanks for the invite. It is much warmer in here than it was in the car. Roomier too! I can almost stand-up in here. I had no idea it was so comfy in these things."

"Heck yeah! There's bunks behind that curtain. We can stretch out and sleep, or whatever…" He said indicating the leather curtains behind us. I was staring out at the storm and the fading gloom of the evening when he said this and the meaning was almost lost on me. Then Peter reached over and touched my thigh. "We could even leave the curtains open and watch the storm if you like."

I looked back into those incredibly blue eyes and that weatherworn face. He was older than I had initially taken him to be, mid-forties was my current guess, and good looking; sturdy-built while not actually fat.

He came into the back and lay down on the bunk. He reached up and took hold of my hand and pulled me to him. He assured me that nothing would happen that I didn’t want to happen and then he laid a long, tender kiss on me.

He wanted to kiss and hug. (Score! I love to cuddle, is there really any reason to jump right into it?) We were naked in no time. Was this the eight inches that had been predicted?

He had a nice dick that tasted really good. He was clean, and felt so good in my arms! I don't mind a sweaty guy, but I really love one who has just recently showered. He smelled so good! I sucked him for a while, we kissed a bit more and we played with each other in various ways. He then laid me back and gave me the most amazing blow job I have ever had.

He then positioned me with my feet on the backs of the chairs and with my cheeks spread. He kneeled before me and started licking my hole. Nobody had ever done that to me before… God! What a great feeling. We went on that way for hours; kissing, licking, touching, and hugging. We kissed, sucked, licked, and nibbled on each other well into the night.

After neither of us had the strength to go on, we fell asleep naked in each others arms. It was pure bliss. About four in the morning, we awoke to an alarm in the cab. It was his weather radio. The blizzard warning had been lifted. The interstates would be open by daybreak.

"That gives us only a couple hours if we want to pick-up where we left off before the plows come by." Peter said to me, smiling.

At sunrise, I was sitting in his cab, drinking the last of the now tepid coffee watching the sunrise reflected in the rear window of my car. The moment was broken a moment later when the first of the plows came grinding by. We exchanged numbers, quick kisses, and promised we'd see each other again. He has called be on his way through Colorado and once we did get together, but it has never been the same.

Every time there is a heavy snowfall, I think of that night on the closed interstate. Wherever you are, Peter… I'm thinking of you this cold and snow evening.

Quote |

I spent a lot of time traveling on the Adirondack Northway from Albany to the Canadian Border in all kinds of weather. My favorite rest area was in Warrensburg. Both North and South bound sides were just pullins, no services. Anytime of day or night, you could find a trucker or two there. I must admit, I've good hookups and bad ones here.

Especially on the North bound side, you will run into a lot of Canadian truckers. The best pickings are when there are only one or two trucks in there. When you get a lot, they tend to worry about being reported to their boss by the other truckers, a lot of company owned rigs.

I was there one night about 2am. The snow was slick on the roads, and the forecast called for additional snow up to morning. Now, Warrensburg lays at the foot hills of the Adirondacks, a treacherous area in the best of winter weather. I pulled my car in between two trucks. I wasn't really looking for anything, just wanted to get some sleep.

About five minutes after I got there, the trucker behind me turned on his inside dome light for about ten seconds. I responded by pushing the time button on the dashboard radio which gave about ten seconds of blue light. I waited for another response. The trucker flashed his lights. That was all it took.

As soon as I exited the car, he leaned over and opened the passenger side door of the cab. I walked around and stood looking up at him from the ground. He was a short French Canadian. A little on the rugged side, but not much fat on his small frame. He asked, "Want to party?" I nodded and climbed up in the cab.

He suggested we get in the sleeper cab where it was more private in case a Trooper came through on patrol. I agreed. The back was nice. He asked if I liked looking at porn, and I nodded yes. He popped a VHS in the player hooked up to a small tv set. Instantly, the screen showed a white guy on his knees trying desperately to swallow a massive cock of black meat. The poor guy on the screen was unable to handle the width, and settled down to licking the shaft and just sucking the head. The trucker looked at me and unzipped his pants. In the glow of the tv, it was difficult to see his penis so I reached in. I drew out a petite 4" dick, not too thick and cut.

I figured it was better than nothing. I leaned over to take it in my mouth when the trucker stopped me. He said "Just so you know, I don't return the favor." I shrugged and continued to my objective. Even with my best sucking action, I could barely raise it up to 5" erect. The tucker started to moan. Suddenly, he pulled me up and said, "I can't cum in the truck. I got to turn it in come morning, and I don't want to leave any evidence." I replied, "Don't worry, I won't spill a drop."

I went back down on him. Soon he was humping up into my face, calling him a "sweet cocksucker". I was rewarded with a small shot or two of very weak cum. He seemed to be happy, but I was sorely disappointed. As soon as he was done, he pulled up his pants. Climbing into the driver's seat, he told me that it was all clear for getting out. I left the cab and walked back to my car. It was the sorriest night of trucker cruising I ever had. It didn't turn me off from trying again the next time, but I always avoided trucks from that same French Canadian trucking firm, but not other fuck Cannucks.

Quote |