The Trucker’s Fingers

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Some things you hate with a passion. But they’re like a sore that you can’t leave alone. You go back to them again and again. Some things feel woven into your fucking head and no matter how demeaning and humiliating they are, you go back. You always go back. The truck stop on Highway 42 was one of those places. It wasn’t much to look at it was anonymous. A diner, a cheap bunk house place for truckers to rest a head for a couple of hours whilst their tachometer’s eased back some. A fuel stop, nothing more.

But Jenny loved the place. She loved it in a cruel and urgent way that went all the way back to the gutter. My beautiful wife is now a solicitor. I’d paid for college, put in the long hours whilst she studied. But there had been times, eighteen year old rite of passage times when she had turned tricks on a truck stop. It was kinda a rough kicks thing. Some girls did it, going down to the truck stop, to get felt and fucked beneath the neon lights advertising junk food. It was the casual dirt of the fucking, the submission to instinct. Deep down, we’re a****ls. We fuck when the urge takes us. Pretty I might be, smartly dressed and living in a nice home, but sometimes I need to be this, I need to do this.

That night, again, so many nice and normal years, I watched Jenny dress that way. I’d never dreamt that she kept those kind of clothes. The little black leather skirt that was little more than a belt. The top over a balcony bra that pushed her pert tits up. I watched her dress that way, rolling the stockings, clipping the tops to her suspender belt. We hadn’t rowed or anything, there had been no atmosphere, but there she was, dressing that way.

‘You don’t have to come out with me’ she said simply.

I didn’t. I didn’t have to object or ask about where she was going either. But I knew. As a husband you do know, you do care.

‘Please…not the truck stop’ I whispered.

Jenny acted like she had never heard me. There were some things that you didn’t discuss. You didn’t discuss her past. She moved in smart circles now. You didn’t discuss sexual performance. I didn’t need to. I knew that she faked her climaxes. She faked them and tried to be nice about things.

‘Stay in and watch a film or something’ she said clipped. Her look told me that there wasn’t to be a debate about this.

‘I can’t do that, you know I can’t!’ I told her. How do you tell a woman that you love her and need to protect her? How do you do that in ways that are not fucking cliches, the shit out of some romantic novel.

‘If you come along, you don’t get in the way, understood?’ she asked primly.

I nodded. You see, some husband’s do go along to those fucking truck stops. They go along and stand meekly by whilst their wives get their cunts full of cock. They go along on the pretence that they can protect their wife from the bastards who drive fucking massive rigs down the highway thinking always about the next easy bitch. They go along and pretend that they could intervene, they might intervene. I knew it, people said. Husband’s who lost their nerve, who tried to stop things proceeding a la instinct, they ended up in the fucking emergency room. The regular husband’s who went, I heard, they were the tossers. They were the fucking voyeurs who jacked a load against the truck wheel whilst the big guy took their wife. I wasn’t that. I fucking well wasn’t that!

We drove through the night, out past the port and onto the highway where the truck stop was located. Jenny looked different. As a slut 18 year old she would have worn the skirt and stockings, but not the designer watch on her wrist and the gold choker about her throat. She wouldn’t have looked a spoilt little rich girl looking for rough cock. In her bag there wouldn’t have been the expensive perfume that she wore now. I’d checked her bag that evening, when she visited the john. There weren’t any sheaths. I shuddered. I watched her open a pack of gum. Jenny never chewed gum. Sluts did that.

‘Give me your cigarettes’ she ordered when I parked up to the rear of the diner.

I pulled a face. She didn’t smoke these days.

‘Just give me your cigarettes, or you can fuck off and come back when I phone you’ she said tartly.

I handed her the smokes. Yes, of course, something to step outside for, something to share with the big guy.

‘If you’re stupid you get hurt. If you get hurt you go to the emergency room by yourself’ she said calmly. It was a terrible thought.

I nodded and watched her step out of the car and flounce over to the diner. Honestly, in the stark lit strip light night, she looked amazing. Her heels were high, crunching across the gravel. Her frame was svelte and she looked like a black cat out there, on heat. I watched her step across to the diner entrance. Several other girls were there, one she recognised from her past. She waved. It sickened me. They broke open my packet of cigarettes and shared a smoke. The other girl, it was Annette. Another made good girl living in a nice district of town. Her husband’s car, the black Mercedes, yes, it was there near the fuel station. Waiting, waiting silently.

I switched the radio on, and switched it off. Stop fucking pretending. Stop it! Annette and Jenny chatted. They giggle and eyed the truckers as they came and went in the diner. They were big guys, black guys, guys that could turn nuts on a fucking truck wheel without a brace. They had fucking huge hands and strong fingers. One paused. May be he was six feet three. May be he was more. He had a fucking huge chest on him. He chatted to my wife and she gave him come on eyes. Seeing that, it destroyed me. Seeing the way her gaze locked to him. Hearing how she laughed when he said something not so funny. Annette had got a punter too. The truckers knew each other. Perhaps they would dine later. Perhaps they would.

When blue Jeans kissed my wife I reached for the car door handle.

My fingers trembled. They actually shook against the catch. He didn’t just kiss her, she kissed him. A stranger. The other guy, I’ll call him Wes, he kissed Annette’s neck. The girls loved it.

‘you drive this route a lot, your rig…. wow!?’ said Jenny. There was a slut drawl to her voice. I barely recognised her.

Blue Jeans wanted Jenny’s mobile number. I heard about that. They then rang ahead when they would stop at the same truck stop again and their bitch would be waiting. Jenny shared her number. Fuck! She shared her number. How does a woman do that? I don’t know. I can’t understand. The very casualness of it all, well….it is dirty, it’s disgusting.

He kissed her again.

‘You got your sap along?’ Blue Jeans wanted to know.

‘He won’t be a problem’ she assured him earnestly. Jenny pointed to our Volvo estate.

Blue Jeans looked across at me. I must have looked like the turd that had been dumped on the seat. That must be how we seem. At any rate, it determined some things. Had I not been there, apparently, she would have been taken up into his cab. When a sap was along etiquette suggested something different. The sad fucker needed to see what his wife really thought of him. They kissed again and dear god, I watched Jenny’s arms slide up and around his big bull neck.

They chose a wall at the back of the diner, so near our car, that I winced. Annette and her man went there too. The girls fucked that way, side by side, watching how the other big man owned their friend. It was something in their heads may be, something darkly female. I watched Blue Jeans push his hand up Jenny’s skirt and calmly insinuate them past the tiny material of her thong. She tensed when he first shoved his big fingers up her, but once they were home, once they were snug, she stared to move on him. The other bastard, he was direct too. He had Annette unzipping his fly for him.

‘Show me your cunt’ ordered Blue Jeans.

He had removed his agile fingers and was getting his dick out.

Jenny hitched her leather skirt up, ran her perfectly manicured fingers down and held open her sex lips so that he could see the sweet, wet and nice looking interior. Blue Jeans pulled back the foreskin on his cock and his fucking ugly great glans popped into show beneath the strip lighting. There, fucking hard and clean too.

I watched Jenny touch his cock. it was like she taking communion, touching the chalice from which she would sup. Her expensive watch, chic on her wrist, his dirty working man fucking cock, drawn near to her slut hole now.

‘You needing it bitch?’ he asked her.

She glanced across to our car.

‘Yes’ I saw her whisper. You can read lips in an instant. Yes.

The guy was bigger than me. He was way bigger. But I sensed that wasn’t the essence of it. the dirtiness of it was the casual fucking. The dirtiness of it was coming home soiled. Blue Jeans pushed his cock up her. I saw her wince, forced back against the wall. I saw her get pinned against the bloody brick work. His cock went home, causing her to fight for breath. His cock went home and she let out a little gasp.

Annette was taking cock too. Her husband, her something or other was out of the Merc and leaning on the side of it. He looked as though he was retching or something. Fuck it. Fuck it!!

Around the back of the diner a car appeared, one containing four youths out on a drinking spree. They drove past, laughing, pointing, calling to the cheap slut as Blue Jeans gave her one.

‘Fucking slut! Yeah…go on….let’s see your cream on it bitch!’

Blue Jeans didn’t care, he was giving her the length. He was giving Jenny the length and she clung to him as she took it. There, her head over his shoulder now, looking at me as he fucked her. Her look, contemptuous, her look desperate, delirious, I wasn’t sure. Shit…my dick was stiff. Fuck it….I had an erection.

Now the coupling was rough. The bastard bit her neck, marking her till next time. It was a territory thing. She wasn’t to go with another guy until the trucker dropped by again. I heard her yelp as he did that. Buck, buck, buck, I could hear the slapping sound as he ran his thick bare cock up her. The thrusts were so hard that Jenny’s feet were lifting from the tarmac below. She was groaning now, with every brutal upward thrust.

The women were turned then, Annette and Jenny alike. They were made to lean forward against the wall, their little skirts pushed up. I watched Blue Jeans kick Jenny’s legs further apart and then he loaded his slimy dick back inside her. The slap, slap, slap, sound returned, her casual lover growing the pleasure of the conquest.

‘Fuck….you posh little cunt’ he snarled at her.

Annette, looked across at her, the way that Jenny’s tits were swinging. Blue Jeans had unhooked her bra one handed.

Two, three, four more massive strokes, each driven with a twisting upward as if his cock was a fucking corkscrew. He reached below. Fuck, her clit was so big and hard he could roll it between finger and thumb. My wife was gasping, moaning, groaning as he worked her.

Annette’s husband spewed. Down behind the car. Annette, his wife was climaxing. They were both fucking climaxing. Bitch! Bloody bitch! I hissed the word through clenched teeth. It hissed the word again and again and watched Blue Jeans start to arch his back as he dumped a load into Jenny. The fucker had tight buttocks. I watched them clench, over and over as he gave her what she craved. Jenny grunted with each dump. She grunted like a fucking a****l.

‘Yeah’ said Blue Jeans.

He pulled out.

The women were struggling for breath, perspiring looking across at one another, feeling what it was like to hold a load. The truckers laughed. They high fived each other. There was a conversation, something was said and then they pointed to me in the Volvo. Blue Jeans went and whispered in Jenny’s ear.

‘Get out of the car’ he ordered when at last he, the other trucker, Jenny and Annette stood beside me.

I thought about locking the car. I thought about driving off. I couldn’t. Jenny. I couldn’t.

‘Get the fuck out of the car’ ordered Blue Jeans nastier still.

I did as bade. I shook as I did so, standing and closing the door as quietly as I could. Now, I thought, this is where he hits me. This is where I take the fist. I tensed.

‘Either you girls needing a piss’ asked Blue Jeans.

I stared. Fuck!

They both did.

‘Good’ smiled Blue Jeans. He kicked my feet from under me as if he was trained in a martial art. I cracked my head on the car sill as I fell. Another kick brought me into the required position. The other trucker nudged Annette and she stepped over me, positioning herself. I watched her lift her skirt so the truckers could see and then the stream hit me. Golden yellow, body warm pee into my face. I struggled. The men laughed. Annette was still peeing, emptying herself over me.

‘Better?’ asked Blue Jeans.

Annette nodded.
t was Jenny’s turn. Already drenched in pee, I watched as she stood over me and edged up her little leather skirt. Her sex, her rear, both were oozing semen. Dear…..uuurgh!!!!!

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