Rhett Cheer
Rhett Cheer
I was heading back home from Southern California when I had an urgent need to both pee and recharge with some coffee. The nearest spot was just over the river so I held out until I made the exit, then dashed in to a truck stop and parked. I made the dash in to the men’s room not thinking that I had left my sweat shirt in the car and was wearing a black tank top with a rainbow speckled butterfly emblazoned on the front. Oh well. When you gotta go you gotta go! Anyway, I made it to the pissers, took my little tool out and made my deposit just in time. I was not paying much attention to the guys around me as I had an urgent need to get to the urinal. Once done, I washed my hands, put some water on my hair and tried to straighten it and then made a B Line to the door and to the coffee machine. As I exited I noted my reflection in the mirror: flaming fag.
Anyway, I got a coffee, then went back in to the men’s room to try one more bleed of the lizard before heading out to the car and back to the freeway. As I once again exited the men’s room I came square in to a man coming out of the men’s shower room, towel and shaving kit in hand headed in the same direction as I. He gave a little knowing glance out of the side of his face and cracked a slight smile as we walked in parallel fashion out to the parking lot. I was parked in a small lot just outside and beyond that four wheeler lot was a larger lot with parked and idling rigs. I caught discrete glances of my new friend out of the corner of my eye as we headed in the direction of my car. He was wearing a red Peterbilt hat so I safely assumed he would be driving a Peterbilt rig. I got to my car and popped the door locks but thought to linger a bit and see if my friend showed any more interest.
My friend continued toward the lot where the rigs were parked and I slid around the back of my Subaru and diddled with something in the back as I watched my man work his way across the lot. He looked back at me, made eye contact just as I moved my left hand in front of my crotch and put my right index finger discretely on my lips. He slowed, turned to approach what appeared to be his rig and turned back for more eye contact. His rig was angled such that I could see him move around to the passenger side of the cab, open the door and climb in. It was still light enough to see that he was putting things back in the sleeper. He then climbed back down the passenger side and stood out from the door as he closed the door. Once closed, he turned straight toward me and made direct eye contact from 75 yards. His eyes commanded “come hither, boy” and I did so. As I approached him I noted his features. Tall. Probably approaching 6’3”. Very thin, wiry thin. Long legs. Faded Levi’s tucked in to jet black Wellington boots, leather and spit shined. He was dark, had a sun weathered face like leather, probably late ‘50’s to early ‘60’s. He wore a long sleeve T-shirt that appeared to have been pressed. He pulled a pack of unfiltered cigarettes from the pocket and lit one as I approached.
As I came within face to face range he withdrew his cigarette, exhaled a stream of smoke and broke out in to a wide smile. He had beautiful, and I mean perfect bright white teeth. He was clean shaven but I could see the dark shadow of his recently shaved beard. Above the collar of his T-shirt curled up black and gray chest hairs. Through is smile he said “Come on friend, ahhh won’t baht.” The deep East Texas floated through the air like the scent of magnolia and drew me in. As we approached within 10 feet I responded that I don’t bite either but he might appreciate the other things I can do with my mouth. He laughed and asked if I wanted a refill on my coffee. I politely declined and then leaned against the passenger side of his rig as we took the measure of each other.
“Name’s Rhett.” I nodded and told him my nick name and he chuckled. He looked me up and down as I did the same with him. Two males could not be more different but I felt the strong attraction between us and eased in to a conversation with him. Rhett asked me if I regularly cruised this particular truck stop to which I responded no, as I lived 70 miles farther east. But I was familiar with it and all of the other places where drivers find fags to take care of their needs. He tugged on his cigarette, exhaled slowly and took a sip of coffee. He turned directly toward me and asked “You like the goods.” I responded that I was definitely impressed and would love to have the opportunity to show my respect and appreciation. He smiled and reached over to open the passenger side door as he said “Hop up.” I did and he followed, flicking his butt to the asphalt and climbing past me to the driver’s air seat. The inside of the rig did not smell of smoke but of a very subtle mahogany air freshener. He took out a small bottle of mouthwash, gargled and spit it in to his coffee cup and then wiped his hands and face with a Handy Wipe. He mumbled something about hating the smell of stale smoke as he looked up at me. I asked if he smoked in the rig and he said no, could not stand the smell but smoked two or three Camels a day while outside on breaks. He turned on the seat toward me, spread his legs slightly and said “Well………….. ” I slipped off my seat and on to my knees and approached him. He leaned back and opened his belt as I went for the buttons on his jeans. Once free he stood slightly and slipped his jeans down below his knees. He left his white boxers on so I went for the fly and liberated his cock. He pulled off his T-shirt and I could see this man was really cut and lean. As I pulled his cock out with my right hand he sprung at full attention through the opening. I took his glans in between my lips and he said “Hold on” as he slipped his boxers down. I kneeled before him admiring his thin, hard body, dark skin, thick black and gray body hair and his medium thick 8 inch cock as it stood at attention before me. Before I knew it his glans was down my throat and I went to work. He was rock hard and said “I am not too sure how long I can hold out. Loaded for bear for three days and no time to jack off.” I lightened up on him a bit in the hopes of giving him some extended pleasure before cumming and he settled back to let me work my depth and pace and simply enjoy the attention. He was vocal and reacted to each flick of the tongue, each change in suction and each stroke of his shaft. Before long he was both complimenting and coaching me on how he wanted it and I could feel the juices boiling up inside of him. He was painfully erect, his large balls were tucked tight up in to his scrotum in launch position and I knew he needed to orgasm soon because it was getting uncomfortable. As I drew out on his shaft I worked the under side of his glans with my tongue and before going back down on him I swirled my tongue tip around his glans.
Rhett soon announced his impending explosion and was leaning slightly forward in anticipation. He had both hands on the side of my head but I showed him no signs of withdrawing his cock from my oral love machine and letting him jack off to an air shot. As his last resistance broke down and he started shooting steady ropes of thick cum I went fully down on him, held his cock deep and then slowly withdrew to the point that his glans was fully in my mouth and my tongue was working around its entire surface. He flinched and shot three or four more times before he settled back and simply surrendered to the oral torture I was inflicting on his cock. Still fully erect he let me work his glans and shaft as he cooed to me how good I was and how much he appreciated the after orgasm stimulation. Twice he stiffened and said “Hold on baby” as he needed a momentary break from the ecstasy. Once he relaxed I went back to my work until he was fully expended and had started to go soft.
I finally let him go when he nearly begged me to let up. I sat back, pulled out a Handy Wipe to wipe off his cock and balls and once done with my cleanup work I sat back up on he passenger seat. I then asked what his schedule was and if we had time for round two. He said he did not need to be in to Albuquerque until 11 am the next morning so he had plenty of time to get his logged sleep and still get a little more therapy. He said “hold on” as he hopped up in to the sleeper, pulled off his boots and socks, slid down his jeans and boxers and pulled up the T-shirt. He then slipped in to a nice blue velour robe and climbed back down on to the driver’s seat. “Better” he said as he leaned back a bit and we started to talk. He told me that he liked his current situation with a small company who delivered specialty metal products all over the Southwest. It kept him within 1500 miles of home, got him home regularly and that was increasingly important as his wife had had two bouts with cancer. She was no longer sexual due to her medical condition so Rhett had taken up a porn and masturbation routine to help control the urges. He talked about the dangers of the hookers in the truck stops as well as other lot lizards who were in to d**gs. And then he told me about meeting an obviously gay guy in Tulsa and getting a hooter job from him in his rig. This was a one time thing as the guy was a chance encounter but it put his mind to work. If he could find a guy near his regular stops who liked to suck as much as he liked to get sucked it might work out well for both. He has seen plenty of porn and read stuff on cruising for sex and squirt about gay guys who cruise truck stops for man cock and thought it might be wise to keep his eyes open. I told him that I might very well have written some of those stories and gave him my pen names for the various sites. We talked about Texas and Arizona and how we both loved the High Desert areas of Southern California but hated to go “down below” to the LA basin. He took a sip from a water bottle and then turned to look at me and said “you are one nice………..dude.” To which I responded “Faggot. Rhett, I am not political. You can call me a fag or queer and it is not going to hurt my feelings. I know what I am and what I do and I like the men I meet and take care of. I want you to be comfortable with me and not think that I am going to go all irrational on you. I am an old school queen. No attitude. Just aptitude.” He responded by saying “Friend, you blew me like I have never been blown before. I want this to last.”
We chatted a bit more and during a break in the conversation I got back on my knees, crawled over to him and opened the front of his robe. He was showing signs of life so I motioned him around and went down on him again. As I worked he talked and increasingly got aroused until after about two minutes he was once again fully erect and fully in to my action. This time I was under the gun to get him off so he could get his mandatory rest before morning so I worked him harder than before, a lot more suction and a lot more tongue to get the stimulation up to the max level. He kept murmuring things like “oh man” and “shoot baby” as I worked and that encouraged me to keep up the pace. This time he held out for another 7 minutes before giving up another large load of thick cum. Once again I sucked until he gave up all of his juices and more and kept it up until he started going soft in surrender to my mouth. From there I went back on to my waist bag and pulled out two Handy Wipes and cleaned him up. I put a bit of hand sanitizer on his cock and worked it all around down to his pubic hair. That job completed I got back up on my seat and looked at a thoroughly drained man. He laughed and said “Man” and exhaled and inhaled hard a few times to get settled down. We continued to chat and he told me that he liked this situation and hoped we could link up. I gave him a card with my e-mails, home phone and cell phone and said “call when relief needed. Have mouth, will travel.” We continued to chat for a bit and he told me he hoped he did not disappoint me by not being in to fucking. That is understandable and most straight men take a lot of work to get them to that point. I reassured him that that was not a big deal for me, I understood his hesitancy and loved sucking his cock that I was happy with that.
He then asked me if I had intended to get picked up that night. I told him that actually, no, I was tired, had to pee and needed coffee and went in to the truck stop without my sweat shirt on to cover my “I am a cock sucking faggot” neon tank top. Having realized my error too late and having made direct eye contact with him I thought I might invest some effort to see if this pick up could happen. Obviously it was time well spent.
Rhett went on to tell me about his best friend, a guy everyone calls Apache Mike. The drove under contract for the same metal products firm and were best friends both on and off the road. Rhett and Mike would link up on the road and get a motel room together and watch porn, drink a beer or two and jack off. They were both hooker adverse and were not in to each other but they had both read about gay guys picking up truckers. Both men routed through my area every 14 days on alternating schedules. Likewise, Mike was in a sexless after marriage and was not slick with women. He just needed relief. To this I told Rhett “give Mike my number. If he is a friend of yours I am sure he is a great guy.” Rhett looked at me and said “I appreciate that. But one word of warning, Mike is one scary looking dude. He is taller than me, 70 pounds heavier and is a full blooded Mescalero Apache. He has hair to his shoulders and a face that looks like someone worked him over with a hatchet.” I told Rhett that I thought Danny Trejo was a doll, so Mike must be even more to my liking. Rhett laughed and said “one more thing. Last time we over-nighted in Barstow together we watched a porno on the computer where two Mexican bangers picked up a white twink and fucked the hell out of him. Mike told me “that’s what I want. I want some friggin’ white fairy that I can fuck the shit out of and not get any lip back.” Rhett asked, “so you still want a date with Apache Mike?” I told him yes, he sounded like a great guy and I have taken on lots of lions, tigers and bears in my time. He won’t break me. Bruise, maybe, but not break. To that Rhett responded that Mike was a real sweetheart of a guy and if I did for him what I just did for Rhett Mike would treat me like a princess. Prince. Whatever. So at that point I noted the time on the dash clock and said “we need to get you off to dream land. Dream of fairies and on your next trip one shall appear.” Rhett laughed and said he would text next trip and give me plenty of advance warning. He would also have Apache Mike send me an e-mail. I asked Rhett where we would link up. He explained to me that this particular stop had the best fuel, best food, best showers and best fairy. Right here would be best. Of course in his East Texas drawl it came out “Rhett Cheer.” So now Apache Mike and I call him Mister Cheer.
I was heading back home from Southern California when I had an urgent need to both pee and recharge with some coffee. The nearest spot was just over the river so I held out until I made the exit, then dashed in to a truck stop and parked. I made the dash in to the men’s room not thinking that I had left my sweat shirt in the car and was wearing a black tank top with a rainbow speckled butterfly emblazoned on the front. Oh well. When you gotta go you gotta go! Anyway, I made it to the pissers, took my little tool out and made my deposit just in time. I was not paying much attention to the guys around me as I had an urgent need to get to the urinal. Once done, I washed my hands, put some water on my hair and tried to straighten it and then made a B Line to the door and to the coffee machine. As I exited I noted my reflection in the mirror: flaming fag.
Anyway, I got a coffee, then went back in to the men’s room to try one more bleed of the lizard before heading out to the car and back to the freeway. As I once again exited the men’s room I came square in to a man coming out of the men’s shower room, towel and shaving kit in hand headed in the same direction as I. He gave a little knowing glance out of the side of his face and cracked a slight smile as we walked in parallel fashion out to the parking lot. I was parked in a small lot just outside and beyond that four wheeler lot was a larger lot with parked and idling rigs. I caught discrete glances of my new friend out of the corner of my eye as we headed in the direction of my car. He was wearing a red Peterbilt hat so I safely assumed he would be driving a Peterbilt rig. I got to my car and popped the door locks but thought to linger a bit and see if my friend showed any more interest.
My friend continued toward the lot where the rigs were parked and I slid around the back of my Subaru and diddled with something in the back as I watched my man work his way across the lot. He looked back at me, made eye contact just as I moved my left hand in front of my crotch and put my right index finger discretely on my lips. He slowed, turned to approach what appeared to be his rig and turned back for more eye contact. His rig was angled such that I could see him move around to the passenger side of the cab, open the door and climb in. It was still light enough to see that he was putting things back in the sleeper. He then climbed back down the passenger side and stood out from the door as he closed the door. Once closed, he turned straight toward me and made direct eye contact from 75 yards. His eyes commanded “come hither, boy” and I did so. As I approached him I noted his features. Tall. Probably approaching 6’3”. Very thin, wiry thin. Long legs. Faded Levi’s tucked in to jet black Wellington boots, leather and spit shined. He was dark, had a sun weathered face like leather, probably late ‘50’s to early ‘60’s. He wore a long sleeve T-shirt that appeared to have been pressed. He pulled a pack of unfiltered cigarettes from the pocket and lit one as I approached.
As I came within face to face range he withdrew his cigarette, exhaled a stream of smoke and broke out in to a wide smile. He had beautiful, and I mean perfect bright white teeth. He was clean shaven but I could see the dark shadow of his recently shaved beard. Above the collar of his T-shirt curled up black and gray chest hairs. Through is smile he said “Come on friend, ahhh won’t baht.” The deep East Texas floated through the air like the scent of magnolia and drew me in. As we approached within 10 feet I responded that I don’t bite either but he might appreciate the other things I can do with my mouth. He laughed and asked if I wanted a refill on my coffee. I politely declined and then leaned against the passenger side of his rig as we took the measure of each other.
“Name’s Rhett.” I nodded and told him my nick name and he chuckled. He looked me up and down as I did the same with him. Two males could not be more different but I felt the strong attraction between us and eased in to a conversation with him. Rhett asked me if I regularly cruised this particular truck stop to which I responded no, as I lived 70 miles farther east. But I was familiar with it and all of the other places where drivers find fags to take care of their needs. He tugged on his cigarette, exhaled slowly and took a sip of coffee. He turned directly toward me and asked “You like the goods.” I responded that I was definitely impressed and would love to have the opportunity to show my respect and appreciation. He smiled and reached over to open the passenger side door as he said “Hop up.” I did and he followed, flicking his butt to the asphalt and climbing past me to the driver’s air seat. The inside of the rig did not smell of smoke but of a very subtle mahogany air freshener. He took out a small bottle of mouthwash, gargled and spit it in to his coffee cup and then wiped his hands and face with a Handy Wipe. He mumbled something about hating the smell of stale smoke as he looked up at me. I asked if he smoked in the rig and he said no, could not stand the smell but smoked two or three Camels a day while outside on breaks. He turned on the seat toward me, spread his legs slightly and said “Well………….. ” I slipped off my seat and on to my knees and approached him. He leaned back and opened his belt as I went for the buttons on his jeans. Once free he stood slightly and slipped his jeans down below his knees. He left his white boxers on so I went for the fly and liberated his cock. He pulled off his T-shirt and I could see this man was really cut and lean. As I pulled his cock out with my right hand he sprung at full attention through the opening. I took his glans in between my lips and he said “Hold on” as he slipped his boxers down. I kneeled before him admiring his thin, hard body, dark skin, thick black and gray body hair and his medium thick 8 inch cock as it stood at attention before me. Before I knew it his glans was down my throat and I went to work. He was rock hard and said “I am not too sure how long I can hold out. Loaded for bear for three days and no time to jack off.” I lightened up on him a bit in the hopes of giving him some extended pleasure before cumming and he settled back to let me work my depth and pace and simply enjoy the attention. He was vocal and reacted to each flick of the tongue, each change in suction and each stroke of his shaft. Before long he was both complimenting and coaching me on how he wanted it and I could feel the juices boiling up inside of him. He was painfully erect, his large balls were tucked tight up in to his scrotum in launch position and I knew he needed to orgasm soon because it was getting uncomfortable. As I drew out on his shaft I worked the under side of his glans with my tongue and before going back down on him I swirled my tongue tip around his glans.
Rhett soon announced his impending explosion and was leaning slightly forward in anticipation. He had both hands on the side of my head but I showed him no signs of withdrawing his cock from my oral love machine and letting him jack off to an air shot. As his last resistance broke down and he started shooting steady ropes of thick cum I went fully down on him, held his cock deep and then slowly withdrew to the point that his glans was fully in my mouth and my tongue was working around its entire surface. He flinched and shot three or four more times before he settled back and simply surrendered to the oral torture I was inflicting on his cock. Still fully erect he let me work his glans and shaft as he cooed to me how good I was and how much he appreciated the after orgasm stimulation. Twice he stiffened and said “Hold on baby” as he needed a momentary break from the ecstasy. Once he relaxed I went back to my work until he was fully expended and had started to go soft.
I finally let him go when he nearly begged me to let up. I sat back, pulled out a Handy Wipe to wipe off his cock and balls and once done with my cleanup work I sat back up on he passenger seat. I then asked what his schedule was and if we had time for round two. He said he did not need to be in to Albuquerque until 11 am the next morning so he had plenty of time to get his logged sleep and still get a little more therapy. He said “hold on” as he hopped up in to the sleeper, pulled off his boots and socks, slid down his jeans and boxers and pulled up the T-shirt. He then slipped in to a nice blue velour robe and climbed back down on to the driver’s seat. “Better” he said as he leaned back a bit and we started to talk. He told me that he liked his current situation with a small company who delivered specialty metal products all over the Southwest. It kept him within 1500 miles of home, got him home regularly and that was increasingly important as his wife had had two bouts with cancer. She was no longer sexual due to her medical condition so Rhett had taken up a porn and masturbation routine to help control the urges. He talked about the dangers of the hookers in the truck stops as well as other lot lizards who were in to d**gs. And then he told me about meeting an obviously gay guy in Tulsa and getting a hooter job from him in his rig. This was a one time thing as the guy was a chance encounter but it put his mind to work. If he could find a guy near his regular stops who liked to suck as much as he liked to get sucked it might work out well for both. He has seen plenty of porn and read stuff on cruising for sex and squirt about gay guys who cruise truck stops for man cock and thought it might be wise to keep his eyes open. I told him that I might very well have written some of those stories and gave him my pen names for the various sites. We talked about Texas and Arizona and how we both loved the High Desert areas of Southern California but hated to go “down below” to the LA basin. He took a sip from a water bottle and then turned to look at me and said “you are one nice………..dude.” To which I responded “Faggot. Rhett, I am not political. You can call me a fag or queer and it is not going to hurt my feelings. I know what I am and what I do and I like the men I meet and take care of. I want you to be comfortable with me and not think that I am going to go all irrational on you. I am an old school queen. No attitude. Just aptitude.” He responded by saying “Friend, you blew me like I have never been blown before. I want this to last.”
We chatted a bit more and during a break in the conversation I got back on my knees, crawled over to him and opened the front of his robe. He was showing signs of life so I motioned him around and went down on him again. As I worked he talked and increasingly got aroused until after about two minutes he was once again fully erect and fully in to my action. This time I was under the gun to get him off so he could get his mandatory rest before morning so I worked him harder than before, a lot more suction and a lot more tongue to get the stimulation up to the max level. He kept murmuring things like “oh man” and “shoot baby” as I worked and that encouraged me to keep up the pace. This time he held out for another 7 minutes before giving up another large load of thick cum. Once again I sucked until he gave up all of his juices and more and kept it up until he started going soft in surrender to my mouth. From there I went back on to my waist bag and pulled out two Handy Wipes and cleaned him up. I put a bit of hand sanitizer on his cock and worked it all around down to his pubic hair. That job completed I got back up on my seat and looked at a thoroughly drained man. He laughed and said “Man” and exhaled and inhaled hard a few times to get settled down. We continued to chat and he told me that he liked this situation and hoped we could link up. I gave him a card with my e-mails, home phone and cell phone and said “call when relief needed. Have mouth, will travel.” We continued to chat for a bit and he told me he hoped he did not disappoint me by not being in to fucking. That is understandable and most straight men take a lot of work to get them to that point. I reassured him that that was not a big deal for me, I understood his hesitancy and loved sucking his cock that I was happy with that.
He then asked me if I had intended to get picked up that night. I told him that actually, no, I was tired, had to pee and needed coffee and went in to the truck stop without my sweat shirt on to cover my “I am a cock sucking faggot” neon tank top. Having realized my error too late and having made direct eye contact with him I thought I might invest some effort to see if this pick up could happen. Obviously it was time well spent.
Rhett went on to tell me about his best friend, a guy everyone calls Apache Mike. The drove under contract for the same metal products firm and were best friends both on and off the road. Rhett and Mike would link up on the road and get a motel room together and watch porn, drink a beer or two and jack off. They were both hooker adverse and were not in to each other but they had both read about gay guys picking up truckers. Both men routed through my area every 14 days on alternating schedules. Likewise, Mike was in a sexless after marriage and was not slick with women. He just needed relief. To this I told Rhett “give Mike my number. If he is a friend of yours I am sure he is a great guy.” Rhett looked at me and said “I appreciate that. But one word of warning, Mike is one scary looking dude. He is taller than me, 70 pounds heavier and is a full blooded Mescalero Apache. He has hair to his shoulders and a face that looks like someone worked him over with a hatchet.” I told Rhett that I thought Danny Trejo was a doll, so Mike must be even more to my liking. Rhett laughed and said “one more thing. Last time we over-nighted in Barstow together we watched a porno on the computer where two Mexican bangers picked up a white twink and fucked the hell out of him. Mike told me “that’s what I want. I want some friggin’ white fairy that I can fuck the shit out of and not get any lip back.” Rhett asked, “so you still want a date with Apache Mike?” I told him yes, he sounded like a great guy and I have taken on lots of lions, tigers and bears in my time. He won’t break me. Bruise, maybe, but not break. To that Rhett responded that Mike was a real sweetheart of a guy and if I did for him what I just did for Rhett Mike would treat me like a princess. Prince. Whatever. So at that point I noted the time on the dash clock and said “we need to get you off to dream land. Dream of fairies and on your next trip one shall appear.” Rhett laughed and said he would text next trip and give me plenty of advance warning. He would also have Apache Mike send me an e-mail. I asked Rhett where we would link up. He explained to me that this particular stop had the best fuel, best food, best showers and best fairy. Right here would be best. Of course in his East Texas drawl it came out “Rhett Cheer.” So now Apache Mike and I call him Mister Cheer.
il y a 4 ans
