by Ben Boxer

Part 1

The buns stretched tight in the big trucker's pants was the first thing that caught my eye, wrapped in his Levis tighter than sausage meat in its skin when he stepped up on the running board of the semi's cab on the passenger side. The second thing was the basket on that somebitch when he lifted out a right pretty gal when he turned around and set her down beside him. Could of had a cantaloupe in there from the way it looked. I broke into a sweat at the thought of that fat pecker curled up in his shorts with the head buried between two hairy balls.
The girl didn't hardly have no ass on her, but her tits made up for it. Lookin' at him got me hot right off the bat, just thinkin' about him pullin' apart the front of that cowgirl shirt and lickin' her boobs. I bet she giggled and gave him a good slap when that bushy beard of his scratched and tickled. Like to drove me crazy thinkin' about him gettin' all hot and bothered and strippin' her pants off and shoving that giant piece of work up between her legs so fast and hard she wouldn't have time to scream before he bore down on her lips for a deep-throat kiss.
Reached down under my beer gut and stuck my finger in my fly to loosen my briefs to make room for the hard-on I hoped would come. It sort of did, but not quite. Damn. Don't know what's wrong with me. Ain't it never gonna get hard?
They came into the motel office all nonchalant like they was man and wife, but I knew different. I seen her take the gold ring out of her shirt pocket after he set her down on the ground and sort of sneakylike put it on her finger.
"Got a room?" he asked, looking me up and down. "Man, you a big'un, ain't you? Bet you tear trees out by the roots!"
I couldn't help but blush. Every word he said went right to my groin.
"You oughta grow that beard real big like mine," he grinned. "But I reckon you just a kid. Get fifty-odd years on you like me, and it'll sure grow!"
He planted a big paw on his paunch. "This, too!" He laughed real loud, like the loggers on the mountain. Yeah, a real man. "Give us a room with a kingsize bed." He pulled the woman close in with a tight squeeze that damn near turned her purple. She looked pissed, like a little dog ready to throw a fit.
"Stop it, Beau!" she barked and dug her long, red nails like claws into his thick bicep.
He drew back and shook his arm. "Damn, that hurt, honey! Shit, I think you drew blood!"
"Naw," she said, "can't take it, big man?"
I gave him the key to the "bridal suite." That was the only room with a kingsize bed and a toilet that worked most of the time.
Pa and me didn't get too many tourists out here except that time they run the Interstate 40 detour right near Hot Springs. We was mostly for truckers, and for the locals needin' a place to fuck away from the wife and kids. Pa didn't mind havin' them tramp women come around. They give him some free pussy ever now and then for keepin' his mouth shut when the deputies sometimes stopped by gettin' all nosy about drug traffickers and moonshiners, which was mostly the types that rolled in weeknights with bad women in tow.
Weekends we got the country fellas out for a good time. Reckon we had a bad reputation 'cause we got trade from over in Tennessee and they seemed to know where to head for the good times. Bad was good for us. We done a fine business with our fourteen units.
Pa took over the desk a lot late at night so he could get a look at the women. That left me free to sort of browse around the property and take a peek here and there. I had my spots, y'know. Bored me some holes where nobody could see and put in them fancy magnifying glass peep holes like you see in town in new apartments so you can see out but they can't see in. Heh heh.
Well, when this hot trucker come in with the watermelon-tits babe at his side, I knew I had to have me a look at the goings on in the bridal suite that night, so after I give 'em the key and sent 'em off to the room, I went and got Pa out of the cottage where we lived at the back. Caught him jackin' off to one of them dirty movies on the VCR again, settin' there wangin' away on that big thing. I just stood back and waited till the old geezer shot his load. Damn, I sure hope I can still shoot from the hip when I turn 77 like him.
He sired me on his third wife when he was already 54, and nobody can tell me the first two didn't get fucked to death by that humongous tool 'cause that's what took my Mama, I'm sure. Healthiest woman on two legs, but I used to hear her holler five or six parts of the night and I knew he was stickin' her again and again. She died plum tuckered from keepin' the old man happy, and her only 42.
'Bout the only thing I had to thank him for was the junior version of his dick I carried around in my pants, not that it did me much good. He sure was proud of me, his only child, and used to brag in town, "Like father like son that boy's hung as good as his old man he gonna fuck your little girlies around here till they can't walk no more!"

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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