I was desperate! About everything in my life! The universe was not unfolding as it was supposed to! In fact, it seemed to be one enormous black hole sucking me in.

I had just spent 5 years at university and achieved a degree in computer sciences, but then found there were no openings for me. I worked at a series of low-paying jobs in the service industry - Macdonald's, pizza delivery, and so on, and finally decided to take what few bucks I had and hitchhike across Canada.

I had set out three weeks ago, and things had gone fairly well so far — until one afternoon. I was somewhere in the middle of Manitoba, the middle of nowhere, when a pick-up with two young guys about my age, wearing cowboy shirts and stetsons, stopped to give me a ride — or so I thought. Instead, they took me for a ride. They beat me up pretty good, threw me in the roadside ditch, and took off with my wallet, my backpack, and my sleeping bag.

I don't know how long I lay in the ditch semi-conscious, but it was late in the evening before I recovered enough to set off down the road in the direction they had gone. I couldn't be sure of what time it was, because the young hoods had taken my watch, too. They had left me only the clothes I was wearing.

I hobbled along with my thumb out, but not one of the occasional cars and truck passing me even slowed down a little. Maybe it was better that they didn't, because about half an hour along the road, I came across my wallet, empty, where they had thrown it out the window. Soon after that I saw a card flipping along the road in the breeze. It was my social security card - no use to them, I guess. And neither was my driver's license, which I found at the side of the road a little further on.

But that's all I found. I guess the young thugs had some use for my backpack, my few clothes, and my sleeping bag, because there was no sign of them having been discarded.

It was mid-summer, so the daylight lingered. Drivers could see me forever on this flat expanse of the prairies, but none stopped, or even slowed. The sun dipped below the horizon, shadows became dark holes in the prairie, and night overtook me. I was sore, hungry, thirsty, and desperate! If no-one was going to pay any attention to me as I was, I figured I knew a way that would make drivers at least look, even if they didn't stop.

At the side of the road in the darkness, I stripped off my jeans and shirt and piled them in a heap at my feet. In just my socks and runners, I stood there at the side of the road at the edge of the wide pullout lane, waiting. It felt kind of sexy, there alone in the warm darkness, so I began massaging my cock, masturbating myself into an impressive erection.

And that was the first glimpse that trucker Jack Cody ever got of me - naked and hard at the side of the road. His rig was almost past me before he slammed on the brakes. The air-brake system was pretty good. When he stopped he had passed me and pulled off into the parking lane where I stood. I was now lit up by his tail-lights.

The passenger side door of his rig opened and the driver stuck his head out and called back to me.

"If you really want a ride, get your ass up here pronto!"

I grabbed up my shirt and jeans from the ground and ran as best I could the length of his rig. When I had stripped I had just slipped my feet back into my runners and had not bothered to tie the laces, so I was in danger of tripping. The passenger door was hanging open ready for me, and I threw my clothes up onto the seat.

As I began to clamber up into the cab, I did have the thoughts: "What am I getting myself into? What kind of guy stops for a naked hitch-hiker?" but I cast off those thoughts with another: "You've been fucked plenty of times before. Once more is not gonna hurt."

I pulled the door shut behind me.

"Welcome to my little home away from home," the driver said, as he put his baby in gear and eased it back onto the highway. "I'm Jack Cody, owner-operator of this beast, your chauffeur for tonight. Where you headin'?"

"East," I told him, "as far as you're going, if you'll have me."

"Well it may just be your lucky day. East is where I'm headin'. And I'll sure have you, if that's what you want, but not right now. Tryin' to make up some lost time 'cause of a road closure some miles back. Probably drive all night. So what's your name? And why are you naked?

"I'm Tom Clark," I told him, "and if it's my lucky day, I haven't seen much sign of it till now," and I told him about being robbed.

"Hm, not fun," he commented, "but glad to have you aboard. There's no need to sit there naked. In fact, it's a bit distracting. Your cute cock is takin' my mind off the road. Maybe you should put your clothes on." He laughed.

I wriggled into my jeans and shirt, leaving my runners off to let my feet breathe after walking the hot road for what seemed like hours.

"So I guess you're pretty hungry?" Jack asked.

"Sure am," I told him.

"There's half a ham sandwich in the console beside me. There's also coffee in the thermos. Just don't drink all the coffee. I may be needing some later."

I gladly took up his offer of the sandwich and the coffee, drinking about half a cup of it out of the screw on cup-lid.

Relaxed and fed, I settled down to enjoy the ride, and chatted with my host for quite a while. He seemed like quite a nice guy. No, he was not married. He was, as I suspected, gay like me, the main reason he picked me up. No, he didn't have a boyfriend. Being on the road all the time made it hard on relationship. No, he didn't work for a trucking company. He was an independent. It meant he kept more of what his rig earned, but it also meant he really had to hunt for contracts, and he had to do that mostly through his laptop, and he was hard-pressed for time to do it.

We chatted about all sorts of things, but the road slipping beneath the truck kept drawing my eyes and mesmerizing me, and I found myself nodding off again and again.

One time I woke with a start. Jack's hand was on my shoulder, shaking me.

"Hey, boy," he said, "Why don't you climb back there into the sleeper and make yourself comfortable. Get some sleep." He flicked a switch somewhere, and the sleeper area behind the front seats was lighted. I hadn't even realized it was there.

Gratefully, I took Jack's suggestion and crawled back there and stretched out on his sleeping bag. I drew the curtains which separated it from the cab. Jack switched of the sleeper lights, and in seconds I was sound asleep.

I don't know how long I slept for, but when I woke the truck was stopped and some daylight was seeping through the curtains. I drew them aside. Outside was no longer the everlasting prairies, but the treed country of eastern Manitoba. Somehow, during the night, we had passed right through Winnipeg without me even waking. We were now parked in a roadside rest area. Jack must have really hot-footed it through the night.

The view inside the cab was much more interesting. Jack was sprawled back in the driver's seat, feet up on the dash, his fly open, and his cock in his hand. He was busy jacking off.

"Want some help with that?" I asked. Jack didn't miss a beat.

"Sure," he replied. "Get on down here and get your mouth wrapped around this before I cum all over my jeans." I didn't need to be asked twice. I aways enjoy sucking a nice cut cock - or any cock for that matter, cut or uncut.

I scrambled out of the sleeper compartment, wriggled between the captain's-chair style front seats and sat sideways in the passenger seat. I bent forward, lowering my face to Jack's delicious-looking dick, and opening my mouth, drove my head down onto it. I was born with a large gullet, and my throat muscles opened easily to allow me to swallow him down. I took him as far as I could in that position. I knew that in more agreeable surroundings and a different position I would be able to take his seven or eight inches all the way to the hilt.

"Oh, fuck, that's good!" Jack exclaimed. I was busy bobbing up and down on his meat, trying to take it further down my throat, but the angle and his rigidity made that impossible. It was good enough for Jack, though, for I felt the underside of his cock, where the urethra bulged out, begin to pulsate as he pumped his juices into my mouth. It was salty-sweet tasting and there was loads of it. I had trouble swallowing it fast enough, my throat obstructed by his cock, and some dribbled out of my mouth and hung on my chin. Finally he had finished, and I sucked the last dregs out of him, removed my mouth from his sword, and finished my sword-swallowing act. I wiped the drops of cum from my chin with the back of my hand, then licked my hand clean.

"We'd better get on the road again," Jack told me. "If you need a piss or a crap, now's the time. We won't be stoppin' again for about an hour."

In truth, I did need to piss badly, and hopped down on the passenger side. For the first time, I realized that three or four other trucks were sharing the rest area with us. There was an roadside outhouse a bit further down the pull-out, but I saw one of the other drivers just going into it with a newspaper in his hand. I knew he'd be a while, so I just pissed in the bushes at the edge of the rest area.

When I returned to the truck, I walked along the driver's side. Jack's door was wide open, and when I drew alongside, I was shocked to see him sitting there, his fly still open and his cock in his hand, hard again. He seemed oblivious of the stream of cars and trucks whizzing by on the highway fifty feet away. He gave me a big grin.

This was the first real daytime look I had had of the man who picked me up. I'd guess he was around forty-five, old enough to be my father. In fact, forty-five was exactly my father's age. Jack was a good-looking specimen, dressed in blue jeans, singlet, and boots. He was tall and lanky, with a hairy chest showing out from under the blue singlet. His uncircumcised cock was around seven inches long when it was hard like now. It was not overly thick, however, so it had been easy for me to suck it down. His face was handsome, if somewhat leathery, like a movie cowboy's face, and he sported a rather bushy moustache, a small beard, and lots of stubble. He waved his hand and his cock at a passing car.

"Aren't you worried someone will see?" I asked.

When I had scooted around the tractor and climbed in beside him, Jack put it in gear and we rolled back out onto the highway and were off again. He touched a switch on the dash and I was surprised when a crackly voice came out of the speaker by my head:

"Hey, Captain Cody, Mac the Truck here. You sure didn't stay long today. Over."

"Hey, Mac. Yeah, I saw you takin' five in the rest area. I just stopped long enough to get a BJ from my hitch-hiking buddy ridin' shotgun. Over." Jack replied, using buttons on the mic he had plucked from its holder on his dash to send and receive.

"Yeah, I saw him out there takin' a leak. He looks like a keeper! Over."

"Well, we'll see. He sure gives good head. What's the word on the highway ahead? Over." Jack asked.

"Sounds like it's all good all the way to the east coast," came the reply.

"Great," replied Jack. "Talk to you soon, Mac. Over and out." He switched off the CB. "I only use it to chat with buddies or to find out road conditions or where the smokies are," he explained. "The constant chatter dives me nuts. Not as bad as it was during the CB craze though, so the old-timers tell me. Cell phones have seen to that."

To me he added, "The guy I was just talking with is an old fuck buddy. We've often hooked up in that same rest stop. In fact, it's where we first met. It's a real popular cruisy area for truckers, travellers, and locals who want to hook up for a quickie in their cabs, their back seats, or in the bushes."

"Are all truckers gay?" I asked.

"Of course not," Jack told me, "but even many of the straight ones won't say no to a good blow job or a nice ass to fuck when they've been away from home for long enough."

We passed the time on similar matters until about 10 a.m. when Jack wheeled into a small town truck stop to "gas up and chow down." He planned on having breakfast here. There were several other trucks already parked, as well a a few civilian cars. Broke and embarrassed, I said I'd just hang around outside and wait.

"Don't be stupid!" he exclaimed. "I know you've got no money. This is on me," and he led me into the diner and we sat in one of the booths. The place was busy, both at the counter lined with stools and in the booths, mostly truckers and other transients, I guessed.

A large guy in an apron approached the table carrying a pot of coffee. "Hey, Jack," he cried. "Been a while. Who's your friend? New swamper?

"Hey, Patsy," Jack replied. "No, this is Tom, a hitchhiker. He got beat up and robbed a few miles back. Now we're both pretty hungry. Give us both one of your truckers' breakfasts … and some of that coffee you're totin'."

"Sorry to hear about your troubles, son," commented Patsy, as he poured us both coffees, "but you sure found a good guardian angel in Jack here. He'll do right by you." He hurried off to get our meals started.

Jack and I made small talk until Patsy returned with two heaped plates of steak, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, baked beans, and sliced tomatoes, with a pile of toast. I was starving and didn't take long diving in.

I was just finishing off when the outer door opened and two more travellers came in. I recognized them at once. They were the two young toughs who had robbed me the day before. They didn't see me and sat on stools at the counter with their backs to us. Jack had seen me tense up and raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"What's up?" he asked quietly. In low tones I told him:

"That's the two guys who robbed me, the two in the cowboy hats," I said, nodding toward the two at the counter.

"You're sure?" he asked. I nodded, Yes. "Leave this to me," he said, and beckoned to Patsy, who came out from behind the counter to Jack. He bent down and Jack whispered to him, nodding in the direction of the two at the counter, who were oblivious that they were being talked about.

Patsy left us, and walked among the customer, stopping here and there to whisper in the ears of other truckers, nodding toward Jack and I occasionally and toward the two thugs. He eventually came back to us.

"All set," he said. "Just wait here and have another coffee till those two get ready to leave." And so we sat there patiently. I had no idea what was about to happen. I did notice several of the truckers pay their bills and leave, but as they did, they all nodded or winked at Jack and I.

Eventually the hoods finished their breakfasts, paid, and exited. Jack and I were right behind then through the doors.

What they saw when they stepped out into the morning sunlight was enough to make them turn right round again. The were confronted with seven or eight truckers, armed with tire irons, jack handles, lead pipes, and baseball bats. They must have immediately sensed they were in trouble and tried to duck back into the diner, but Jack and I were right behind them.

"You ain't going anywhere," Jack told them. "Which is their pick-up?" he asked me. There were only two in the parking lot, so it was easy for me to pick it out. "OK, march!" Jack ordered the two, who by now had recognized me and looked scared shitlesss, although they hadn't uttered a word. Ringed round with armed truckers, Jack marched then over to the pick-up. My backpack and my sleeping bag had been just tossed into the box of the pick-up. I retrieved them.

"How much money did they steal from you?" Jack asked me.

"I'm not sure exactly," I said. "I started out with five hundred bucks, so maybe around four hundred."

"Your wallets, boys," Jack demanded.

One of the young men started to splutter something, but the thwack of a baseball bat into an open palm made him change his mind and he handed his wallet over to Jack, who already had his buddy's wallet. He riffled through the wallets and withdrew several bills from each.

"Here's your four hundred," he said, handing me some of the bills, "and here's another four hundred for your pains and troubles," he added, handing me the rest of the bills. Both guys started to complain, but thought better of it when they glanced at the angry truckers brandishing their weapons.

He noticed one of the guys was wearing two watches on the same wrist.

"One of those your watch?" Jack asked. I nodded and pointed to the upper of the two.

"Take it off!" Jack ordered, and the punk did so and handed it over to me.

"Where you two good ol' boys from?" Jack asked, as he shoved their wallets into the pockets of their cowboy shirts.

For the first time, one of them found his voice.

"Red Deer, Alberta," he mumbled.

"Well, you and your buddy are going to get back in your pick-up and head on back to Red Deer, Alberta, and stay there. If any of us ever see your ugly hides in these parts again, you and your pick-up are likely to end up in a nasty accident. You understand?

"Yes," one muttered.

"That's yes, SIR," Jack demanded.

"Yes, Sir!" they both echoed.

"Now get your sorry asses out of here," he told them. They didn't have to be told twice, and soon they and their pick-up was speeding westward, leaving jack and his truckers friends laughing uproariously in the parking lot.

Having thanked Jack's friends, we were also soon back on the road, heading east again.

"We'll be in Dryden by tonight," Jack told me. "I'm going to get a motel for the night. You want to stay the night with me, or head out on your own again now you've got some money?"

"I'd love to stay the night with you," I told him.

"Good. I''d hoped you'd say that!"

It would be an understatement to say that Jack was horny for me, my cock, and my ass. I'm not saying I wasn't also very horny for him, but no sooner had we checked into a motel late that afternoon and gone to the room than he told me "Get naked! Quickly! I want to eat your cock, and your ass, and fuck your brains out!"

He was already dropping his jeans and hiking his singlet up so it was more like a tank top than anything. His uncut cock popped out already hard. This sight of his stiff meat set my own in action, and by the time my jeans hit the floor, I was as hard as Jack was.

He dropped into a crouch beside me and grasped the base of my cock firmly. I wasn't a small-cocked guy myself, and his grasp made me even harder. He soon wrapped his mouth around my knob. It was heavenly!

It was only when Jack was busily gobbling away at my dick-head that I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look. It was then that I realized that the rear window of the motel, which opened onto a narrow patch of grass, a wooden fence, and beyond that the parking lot of the adjoining Husky garage and truck stop that I realized the curtains were wide open. The man who had walked by could have had a wonderful view of Jack sucking my knob! But who gave a shit at a time like that?

Jack spun me round and pushed me toward the bed. He forced me face down upon it, bent over the edge, my legs hanging down, knees on the floor. He spread my cheeks and I knew he was going to eat my asshole. I knew I must be sweaty and sticky back there after almost twenty hours of riding in the truck.

"Let me get a cloth and clean up first," I begged.

"I'll do it for you," Jack offered. he rose and went into the bathroom. I heard the taps running and soaping sounds, then Jack came back into the room. He rustled round in his kit-bag for a moment, then he was wiping my ass clean for me with a hot, wet, soapy cloth. I felt like a little boy being cleaned up by his daddy — and I felt a sudden rush of affection for this man I had met less than a day ago.

In a moment, the warm, wet facecloth was replaced by a warm, wet tongue as my new mentor began to lick at my hole, driving me crazy. He wetted me up pretty good, then ran his stubbly chin and beard up the length of my ass-crack, just about sending my head into orbit. This was absolute pleasure and torture at the same time.

"Move up on the bed," Jack ordered me. "My knees are getting sore." I did as I was told, and he climbed onto the bed with me and went down on my manhole once more, licking, sucking and slurping, getting me very wet and very horny. I wanted more than just his tongue in my hole.

Soon Jack withdrew and sprawled himself face down flat on my back, his hard cock pressed between my legs, rubbing my balls, the ridge between my legs, and brushing my hole.

"I'm going to fuck you," he whispered in my ear.

"Good," I whispered back.

"I got some lube from my bag while I was up. I'm going to put some on my prick and your hole."

I nodded OK.

"I've got condoms, too, if you want," he told me.

"No," I replied. "Just as you are."

I felt him fumbling by my ass, and then an slippery finger entered me and probed a little. Then it withdrew. There was new pressure at my hidden doorway, and then as easily as if it were meant to be there, Jack's cock slid up into me.

I had been fucked plenty of times before in my life, with big cocks and small cocks, thick and thin, long and short, but none of them had ever felt so good as this one. From the first moment the head of Jack's cock entered me, it felt just right. I wanted it there forever.

"Oh, my God! Your ass feels fantastic round my cock," Jack cried in my ear.

"And your cock feels fantastic in my ass," I assured him. "Fuck me slowly." Jack took me at my word. He fucked me slowly for maybe twenty minutes, while I clenched his cock with my butt muscles, and wriggled my ass to have his dick touch me all over inside. Finally he said, "I'm going to cum soon." I nodded my head and whispered "OK," and Jack picked up the pace. He pounded my ass like a pile-driver, faster and faster, until he cried out as if in pain and tensed his body, straining into me, as he juices pumped out of him and into me.

He lay still on top of me when he had finished, and I felt somehow complete, with Jack on top of me, his dick still in me, and a load of his cum there inside me, too.

He rolled off me eventually and lay face down on the bed. "Now you fuck me," he asked.

"If you want," I said, rather non-committedly, but my cock was crying "Yes! Yes!" I was so horny for him.

I took the tube of lube from where he had left it on the bed, greased up my dick and his hole, then lay on top of him as he had done to me, and with my hand I guided my cock to his hole. I was a little surprised when he winced with pain as I entered him, but once I was deep in his innards and fucking him slowly, he whispered:

"This feels just about as good as when I was fucking you. We go together like parts of a jigsaw puzzle."

I knew exactly what Jack meant. As much as his dick in me had felt wonderful, my dick in him felt equally terrific!

I fucked Jack just as slowly as he had fucked me.

When we had finished, we took a shower together, then went to eat at the Husky next door which Jack knew and recommended from many previous visits. After a great meal we returned to the room, followed by the envious eyes of many other truckers in the diner who knew Jack.

I thought we were going back there to fuck some more, especially when Jack stripped right off. But Jack had other plans for the evening. As an independent trucker he had to run his own business, find his owns customers, arrange his own schedule, and this evening he had to arrange to drop off his current load in Thunder Bay and pick up another to take on to Sault Ste Marie. The day after that he was headed east to Sudbury. So as it turned out, he was on the phone most of the evening, lying naked on one of the two beds. I watched TV from the other bed while he conducted his business.

It seemed to me he was taking forever, so I eventually stripped right off and climbed into the bed which I had been lying on. I lay there recalling the late afternoon sex session and wanting more. I was playing with my hard cock under the covers.

"Got room for me? asked Jack. He had finished with his phone and was standing beside the bed, naked, fingering his lengthening cock.

"You betcha," I grinned and slid over to allow him to climb in beside me. He turned off the bedside lamp, and I used the remote to turn off the TV set. In the dark beside me, Jack said softly,

"Wanna make love?"

"You betcha," I replied, and turned on my side in the bed to meet him. We embraced each other eagerly, our stiff cocks crushed between us.

The next morning, Jack had a proposition for me.

"Seems to me we go together pretty good," he said as we headed out toward Thunder Bay. "I've got an idea to make it last a little longer. You're heading to the east coast, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"And so am I," he said, "In a stop and start, round-about sort of fashion. At most destinations I need a swamper, and usually hire a local lay-about to help me unload and load if the customer doesn't provide people to do it. Wanna be my swamper to the east coast? I'd pay you some, and provide the meals and accommodations. I'd even make time for you to check out the local sights if we're not too pressed for time. What do you think?" he asked.

"I think that's the best offer I've had in ages," I told him, beaming. "I accept … as long as we get to make love like we did last night once in a while."

"Of course! Every chance we get! That's the main reason I want to keep you on!"

"OK," I told him. "Let's keep on truckin'."

I've been trucking with Jack for more than a year now. I'm more than just a swamper, though. Jack bought a great new laptop, and we got a package deal from one of the national providers. Using an iPhone as a connector, a wireless hub, we can hook up to the internet practically anywhere in Canada. I keep Jack's books and contacts for him, often even while we are moving. I look out for new contracts and figure out schedules and routes. It leaves Jack free for plenty of love-making in the evenings.

I've also passed my licenses to drive this rig, and have been bonded, so I often spell Jack off behind the wheel.

Together we have a pretty good life. I went all the way to the east coast with him that first trip — and back to the west coast, and back to the east coast again, and down to Florida and Texas and California and back to Vancouver again.

But we're not always on the road. Jack has a condo in Vancouver, another in Halifax, and a cottage in the Manitoba lake country, so we sometimes take a week out.

Last night, Jack asked me to marry him. I told him I'd like to think about it overnight, but I already knew my answer. I'm going to keep on truckin' with my man.

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