I woke early to the sound of truck doors slamming nearby and the deep rumble of cold engines beginning to warm. For a moment the noises were alien and alarming, but then a flash of recollection put them in context.

The trucker.

The day had barely begun but already some drivers were getting the jump on it, pulling out of their bays and trundling across the car park towards the exit. The truck stop was a different place from last night it seemed. Then it had been a dark and welcoming destination after a long journey. Now it was a cold starting point to be departed and left far behind just as quickly as the miles could clock up.

But not for Max, not yet. He breathed deeply behind me, his chest expanding massively against my back, and his whole body stretched in a slow writhe. He yawned like a sedated bear and scratched his head, making me wonder if he was about to stir, but then he dropped his arm over me and fell still once again. I was glad. Everything felt warm and bleary inside the cab as if the solid reality of the world outside had just the lightest tidal pull on events in here. The sheets around us had developed that soft perfection only an early morning bed can achieve. I didn’t want to leave yet.

I became aware that my legs ached as if I’d been working out and my arse felt hot and abused. Neither feeling was at all unpleasant, especially when I thought about the reason why.

My mind skipped back to the day before and replayed the events that had brought me into Max’s bed. It all seemed so improbable, yet here I was. Yesterday had unfolded all too quickly to be second-guessed, but now my brain wasted no time picking over the evening, struggling to accept it had really come to pass. A dreaded scepticism threatened to bloom. Was it honestly my trucker dozing behind me? Sure, he was the man I’d met back in August, but could he compete with the idealised version of him that I’d honed in the intervening months? Or would he turn out to be something other than I’d hoped, betrayed by the very first unanticipated look in his eyes? I almost dared not turn around for fear of breaking the spell.

Oh, for fuck’s sake! I rolled over beneath his arm.

The sight that met me made my heart lurch: a gargoyle’s face leering at me, with a furrowed brow, flared nostrils and a mouth gathered up like the snout of a pig. Those pursed lips pulsated at me in a grotesque kiss me gesture. But then Max’s mirth overwhelmed his commitment to the performance and the face he was making broke into an elated grin. Laughing loudly, he dropped his head back on to the pillow and regarded me with sleepy eyes.

As I watched him delight in mocking the universal what did I do last night!? fear, I couldn’t help but return his smile. My doubts evaporated as I studied him, so fresh out of sleep that there could be nothing artificial about him. Undoubtedly this was the raw material that would gather itself into the swaggering trucker I’d come to know.

But the transformation hadn’t occurred yet. I liked it. I always found guys sexy first thing in the morning and Max was taking it to a new level entirely. His beard, and it really was a beard now, seemed to have thickened and darkened considerably during the course of a single night. His close-cropped hair was messier than yesterday, lending him a youthful air. His whole body seemed to radiate the lazy warmth of sleep.

It was him all right.

I brought my arm up under the covers and wrapped it around his waist. He pulled me to his furry chest and tucked my head under his chin before crushing me in a long hug. I think we must have dozed on and off for a while.

I roused again to the close-up view of one beautifully thick vein pulsing in his neck, just where it was joined by the buttress of one muscular trapezius. I traced it with my fingers, feeling the slow beat of his pulse, then dragged my fingertips down over one bunched-up pectoral. They purred through the thick fuzz on his chest, beneath which his heart thudded lazily away.

Max did not stir as I touched him. The desire to explore him in this sleepy state overcame me; my hand slipped down over his stomach and swiftly delved for the warm thatch of his pubes. Once there I became stealthy, Braille-reading the lay of the land.

His left leg was laid straight out. His right, the topmost of the two, was lifted and bent at the knee in a rough semblance of the recovery position. This meant his crotch was a good few inches clear of the bed and his junk was hanging pendulously like ripe fruit. His sack was loose enough to sprawl on the sheet, his heavy nuts lolling lazily inside. In front of them, his cock draped on to the mattress like a length of pliable rubber.

It was a surprise to find him unerect, one I didn’t mind at all. My ex Darren used to wake up horny almost every day. It thrilled me for about a fortnight but then it became just too predictable. During our relationship I had one of those moments when you learn a definitive fact about yourself, namely that I preferred spontaneity to certainty any day. Shit, I’d even prefer to have to work hard and mardin escort earn a good pounding than simply be given one on schedule. And Max’s dormant state was just such a challenge, one I knew I could meet.

But not quite yet. Just like the man himself, the floppy dick in the bed with me was still something new in my world and I wanted to get to know it.

I’d made the acquaintance of dozens of cocks in the past and experienced a wide variety of shapes, lengths, girths and eccentricities. Two or three could’ve rightly been called large but none had come close to the size of Max’s dick. His was in another league altogether, a higher order of magnitude. Even in its flaccid state, it was longer and thicker than most of the hard-ons I’d played with before. There was a delicious arrogance about the way it hung so bulkily from his crotch, no less sure of its equivalence than any other part of his body.

I slipped my fingers around his sack and gently eased my hand beneath his junk. His balls felt like two hard-boiled eggs in a loose bag, weighty and warm. I drew my hand towards me so his nuts plopped out between my thumb and forefinger and dropped back to the mattress, leaving just the hot length of Max’s cock laid across my palm like an iron from the fire.

My dick had been stirring lazily beneath the sheets. With Max’s meat in my my hand, my own rose to attention in a matter of seconds.

Max’s cock remained languorous, just like its owner. I held it like I’d hold a phone – fingers curled around one side, thumb laid alongside the other – and it filled my palm with exhilarating totality. Just like its erect alter ego, it had a pretty even girth from base to corona except for the mildest hourglass effect midway, probably from being twisted around on itself during Max’s sleep.

I tightened my grip and leisurely stroked him, basking in the moment. Uncut dicks have always fascinated me. There’s something intensely horny about the ampleness of the skin and the way it slides so freely. Max’s floppy cock offered more than any I’d seen before. I relaxed my grip and moved my hand until just the head of his dick rested on the crook on my index finger. With the pad of my thumb I read the character of his foreskin, which covered his helmet completely and gathered in a loose pucker at the tip. Here it was at its most delectable; as pliable and luxurious as velvet. I rubbed it with a circular motion, gradually easing it open, until my thumb pressed against the warm crease of his piss slit. Fuck, I wanted him in my mouth.

I glanced up and was surprised to see Max was awake. He had been silently enjoying my blind exploration beneath the covers and watching my face as I’d worked. Our eyes met and a dirty smile curled one side of his mouth. He came up on his left elbow and his right hand spread wide at the place where my neck met my chest. He pressed me firmly to the mattress and kissed me deeply for a long moment, his large cock starting to swell further in my palm. Then he pulled back and held up a finger.

One minute.

In a flash, Max pushed himself up from the mattress, pulling his meat from my eager hand. He climbed over me and got to his feet in the narrow space beside the bed. His hairy, thickset and completely naked frame was a pleasure to watch in motion. With a hand on the back of each seat, he dipped forwards to check nobody was about to pass by outside and get an eyeful when he moved into the driver’s compartment. I spied on his arse as he leaned forward: two meaty globes covered in fur which darkened towards his delicious crack. But my eye was caught by something higher up. On the wide plane of his back were two clusters of crescent-shaped welts, each one deep and angry-looking.

My fingernails had done that to him.

Just as I sat up to take a closer look, Max slipped forward and dropped into the passenger seat, sidesaddle fashion. Behind him, the big windscreen gave a clear view of the brightening car park and the row of trucks facing us across this particular lane. A few drivers were moving around out there, wrapped up in their own business.

“Max?” I said.

He looked round at me. I reached over my shoulder and patted my back then pointed at him. He understood me immediately, then rolled his eyes and shook his head to convey how little those scratches bothered him.

Still, I must have looked troubled. Max turned a little more in my direction and took hold of my hand. I didn’t need to understand German to know the meaning behind the stare he fixed on me. Don’t be daft, okay? He tilted his head towards me and squeezed my hand, wordlessly pressing his point. I nodded firmly to satisfy him but I decided to take more care next time.

A loud horn made us both look up. A passing truck slowed in front of the cab; red and white, just like Max’s own. The driver raised one splayed hand in greeting as he rolled by. It was Karl, heading off on his journey to who knew where. Max gave a quick salute and I waved. When he spotted me, Karl pointed at me and smiled, clearly pleased to see me van escort here. And then he moved on, leaving us alone again.

Max returned to the task at hand. He reached behind the seat, grabbed his dark blue trousers and pulled them on. Next he shrugged his jacket on over his bare torso and worked his naked feet into his boots. Just barely decent, he popped open the passenger door and jumped down to the tarmac. An offhand shove at the door sent it swinging slowly shut.

Wise to what was about to happen, I pulled the sheets around me and slipped forwards into the driver’s compartment. With my bare knees on the floor and my chest on the seat, I caught the door before it latched and eased it open half a foot or so. Chilly air swirled inside. I peered back along the length of the truck.

Max stood in the narrow corridor between his rig and its neighbour. He was facing the trailer, about where the rear wheel of the cab tucked beneath it, and he was doing the shuffle of a man opening his fly. With that hot little pelvic dip to assist access, he tugged his cock free. His lack of self-consciousness was utterly thrilling. The whole world held its breath as he assumed the age-old stance: feet spread, shoulders hunched, arms locked, hands at the pump…

Totally absorbed in the task, Max was oblivious to me. In that penultimate second I had a choice. I could remain unnoticed and let him go about his business as he usually would, or reveal myself and see how well he performed under scrutiny.

I wolf-whistled.

Max looked up sharply, glancing first towards the thoroughfare beyond the cab then up at me when he spotted the door open a crack. He grinned at me and it was that same sly grin he’d flashed back in the summer. I was learning his ways: this smirk told me he was about to show me something good. He seemed pleased I was watching.

With casual arrogance Max placed his right hand, the one nearest me, on his hip. The action pulled his open jacket back, revealing a strip of hairy, muscular torso from neck to crotch. And his junk in glorious side profile. His fly was unbuttoned and unzipped, and his trousers were kept from slipping down over his naked arse cheeks by good fortune alone. He held the fleshy length of his dick loosely with his left hand.

Without missing a beat, he began to piss. The golden jet sprang from the head of his cock and arced between the tyre and the large mudflap. His stream was thick and rope-like and every bit as awesome as I’d imagined. It rained down heavily on the tarmac and the splattering sound seemed cacophonous in the early morning air, like someone had turned on an outdoor tap and left it running.

And Max looked utterly divine, roughly dressed in his workman’s gear, standing there with his shoulders back, hips forwards and big cock in hand, pissing unashamedly. I was rock hard and exhilarated by this most basic but eloquent display of his masculinity.

Max regarded his dick proudly, then eyed me from beneath his heavy brows. His expression conveyed perfectly a sense of so you like that, huh?

He grasped his dick more firmly and eased his hand forward, sliding the skin along his length. As his foreskin gathered around his helmet, his jet of piss feathered and became a messy spray. Golden droplets spattered and misted widely, turning the dusty grey tyre a shiny black.

Then he pulled right back, exposing his glistening cockhead. His piss became a single proud jet again. Stepping back towards the neighbouring truck, Max lifted the end of his dick and sent his stream gushing noisily against the side of his trailer, raising a deep purring sound from the tarpaulin as his piss hit it and ran off. He hoisted his dick further, aiming higher and higher up the side of his truck, until the golden stream began to apex in mid-air and fall directly to the tarmac once again.

And he didn’t stop there. Thrusting his hips forward, he leaned his upper body back and inclined his cock just dangerously shy of vertical. His piss was now a messy fountain jet shooting up in a tight arc before his chest, then raining down on to the ground with a wet slapping sound and beading his boots with splashback. My mouth hung open at his daring and my heart raced at the sight of it.

His meat seemed to grow thicker and fuller as he showed off to me. As he finally began to taper off and lowered his cock to the usual position, I saw it definitely was getting harder. It looked far heftier resting in his palm than it did earlier.

The stream diminished into its final dribble and began to taper off. Without pausing to completely finish, let alone shake and tuck himself away, Max surprised me by sprinting towards me and reaching up to pull himself back into the cab. I caught the look of horny mischief on his face and realised he was up to absolutely no good at all.

In a heartbeat I flung myself away from the door and back into the sleeping compartment. Max moved much faster than me. I heard the cab door slam shut behind him and, before I could turn, his arms seized me around the waist. ankara escort Growling, he drove me down on to the bed, flipped me over and then knelt astride me just as he had last night. His considerable weight pinned me to the mattress and his cold boots clamped against my sides.

I tried to push him over backwards for no other reason than to feel once again how immovable he could be when he wanted to. I’d never encountered a body capable of such brute strength and it thrilled me. Max no doubt recognised I hadn’t been with anyone built like him before, and my fascination with his brawn seemed only to excite him. He gave me a smug half-smile as he let me try and fail to budge him. To further demonstrate his might, his big hands locked on my wrists and, one at a time, he forced them down to my sides where he trapped them with his legs.

Chuckling somewhat breathlessly, he settled back on his haunches for a moment and his open jacket revealed the heavy mass of his chest, rising and falling with his deep breaths. The fact his semi-hard dick poked out of his unfastened trousers right in front of me seemed as unremarkable to him as the nose on his face. It had been joined by his bull balls which had also spilled out of his zipper. His thighs, spread wide over my body, had caused his open trousers to ride back up under his junk and lift his nuts, pushing one to either side of his shaft. The ripe masculine smell of his unwashed body was everywhere but it was especially intense here at crotch level; deep and animalistic.

Then the respite was over. Max brought his hips forwards and pushed his stiffening cock down towards my face. His helmet hovered just over my mouth and he shoved his foreskin forward over it.

It was only then I noticed the end of his dick was dewy with the very last of his piss, which he hadn’t milked out and shaken off for just this reason. It held its position above my lips, awaiting my attention.

I had tested Max’s mettle outside; now he was testing mine. His face settled into a mask of serious study. I supposed he was getting to know me as well and had guessed my previous sexual experience had never strayed too far from the ordinary. This here was another push against my limits, the outcome of which he was anxious to see. It was also the revelation of a sleazier side to his nature, one I had only caught brief glimpses of so far. Despite this, there was nothing insistent about him in that moment. It felt as though he was offering me something I was free to take.

Or not.

But he did squeeze his cock. At the very end of his gathered foreskin, a golden droplet swelled threateningly and trembled on the edge of dripping.

I hesitated, confused. I had never experimented with piss before. Only since Max had it even crossed my mind, as if the heft of his dick added a fascination to the act. And now I was being called on to walk the walk. Could I do it? Would it say something about me if I did?

The moment stretched out. My hesitation was taking too long; it was becoming more like reluctance. Max’s face remained set and expectant, only there was a hint of something else now: an impending disappointment, as if he’d suspected the wilder side of his character might rouse a disapproving side of my own.

Instead a more savvy part of me took charge, one that realised the sudden gravity of the situation. It recognised that this was indeed a challenge, one that symbolised the wide-ranging sexual adventures Max could offer and which tested my suitability as an accomplice in them. It reminded me that from the start I had been enthralled by his sexual drive, which was dark and strong and always destined to overwhelm my own. Hadn’t I always known I’d be pulled out of my depth sooner or later? Wasn’t that what made it all so exciting? And now, out of nowhere, that pivotal moment was upon me. It was quite a simple choice in the end. Step away from what I knew and let Max take me on an altogether different ride. Or refuse to be swept along by him and feel a dreaded distance open up between us.

I opened my mouth.

Max’s grin was immediate. He squeezed his cock, slapped its wet head on my tongue and a brand new taste entered into my bank of experience. His piss had the density and bitterness I expected, but it wasn’t quite how I’d imagined. It was much clearer, with a salty edge.

He watched me with calm interest, as if I was doing nothing more than taking my first sip of a wine he’d recommended. These games were nothing new to him but I guessed he still took pleasure in inducting others. He withdrew a touch and gave me a moment to get the full effect, then brought his dick back towards my mouth and parked the tip between my lips. My tongue probed around the end of his foreskin and slipped into the puckered opening, creating a hot lapping sound that made him groan appreciatively. I worked my tongue inside, beneath the tight hood where he was wet from the games he’d played whilst pissing, delving deeply into that tight pocket of skin and glans. The saltiness came alive on my taste buds again, heavier this time but with a hornier edge. I began to appreciate the symbolism of the act now, this subverted communion. I cleaned the cock he hadn’t bothered to shake off, and the implied subservience was a turn on for us both. And somewhere in amongst all this, a tacit agreement was reached: whatever wild ride he was offering, I was fully signed up.