Gros Cube: My First Raw Ride with a Trucker
Autoroute du Soleil, Lunel rest area. The Daf truck cab sat still. Silence crashed in after he killed the radio. He stretched, his bulk surprisingly nimble, then crouched by the bunk. His breath hitched. Seconds dragged. I dreaded anger in his blue-gray eyes. Instead, wonder and fear flickered there—like a kid’s, bold yet scared of the unknown.
I held his gaze. Confirming my words: I wanted him. Heart hammering. Three days built to this. Hitchhiking nightmare turned rescue. His bat swinging off those creeps. Bunk offered for safety. Talks deepened in traffic hell. His VendĂ©e sailing dreams crushed by injury. My photo student life. Laughter flowed. Now, confession hung heavy: ‘I want you to fuck me.’ No turning back. Pulse raced. Air thick with heat, sweat, anticipation.
The Approach
He inched closer. Back of his hand grazed my cheek. Shiver. Fingers traced my throat. Fumbled my blouse button—new fabric stiff. Thick digits clumsy, left hand helped. Buttons yielded slow. Chest heaved. He saw. Eyes asked: Sure? I nodded, lips whispering yes. Blouse shoved back, arms pinned like cuffs. ‘Why me, Miss Kodak? Your youth, my gut, age gap.’ His whisper hot. ‘Your eyes twist me up.’ Hands unhooked bra. Breasts spilled free—tanned lines stark, nipples dark peaks. Sweat bead trailed. He lapped it, tongue flicked nipple. Sharp cry escaped.
The Instant. Hands everywhere. Behind me now, paws cupped tits. Knead, pinch, flick. Nipples throbbed—swollen, begging. He growled poetry: graceful neck, perfect shoulders, cinnamon scent, chocolate tips. Neck kisses. Cock swelled against my ass through shorts—bull-hard. ‘Louise,’ he breathed. Arms freed. Short yanked down. Face buried in cleavage, nibbles. Belly trailed. Panties ripped off. Fists gripped cheeks. Finger probed slit—slick, ready. ‘Shhh.’ Counted to three. Spun naked, arms up, bush exposed. Wasp buzzed tits. Froze. He smashed it. ‘Don’t move.’ Worshipped with eyes.
The Instant
Back to bunk. Kneeling, thighs spread. Tongue dove in—clit hunted, sucked. Waves built. But he balked: ‘Can’t soil you.’ Pulled him up. ‘Fuck pity. I’m wet for you, hairy beast.’ Hands on furred chest. Kissed abs, sucked shoulder—hickey bloom. Bermuda off. Massive cock sprang—thick as wrist, veined, balls heavy. Trac fears spiked. But mouth watered. Licked sack, shaft. Gobbled girth—stretchy challenge. He groaned. Sixty-nine: his tongue drilled deep. Climax edged us.
Doggy: ass high. Gland nudged. Inch by inch—full, burn to bliss. Slammed home. Wet slaps, ball taps, my screams: ‘Harder!’ Spanks landed. Orgasme hit—convulsions, collapse. Truckers jeered outside. Shame flushed. He soothed: ‘My angel.’ Revived cock. Missionary: legs pinned back. Pounded. Twisted nipples raw. Dual peaks—his hot flood inside.
The Trace. Bodies slick, tangled. Heartbeats synced. Innocence? Shattered. Not virgin loss, but first true surrender—to age, bulk, real hunger. No pretty boy polish. Raw, hairy power unlocked me. Life shifted. His eyes lit—mine too. Angel with a pussy, we laughed. Road ahead, but this cab forever scarred my soul sweet.
