Date: Thu, 14 Dec 2006 17:40:57 EST
From: Danhol900@aol.com
Subject: Brutal Trucker Sex #25

Recap of Brutal Trucker Chapter 24:

"The nasty sadist bastard Joe Bruno just laughed.  Years of lonely security
details at the warehouse had jaded him with the cruelty of the place and
de-sensitized him with its long lonely monotony.  "Fuckin slut, you're
doing just what I want now, kneeling down as you are with that fine juicy
pussy pointing straight up invitingly.  Shit, me and the boys got the whole
fuckin day, our official fuckin holy day of rest; says so in the Bible.  I
know for a fact that you don't gotta work on weekends, won't nobody gonna
be looking for your slimy little ass before Monday's shift and that's
plenty of time for me and the boys, aint it boys, plenty of time to nail us
some pussy.  Shit fucker, you're gonna be drainin all these hairy balls and
drainin these suckers dryer than the fuckin Mohave" as he broke into cruel
laughter.  "Shit", he continued condescendingly "That pretty little mouth
of yours might be saying no but that hard dick and dripping quivering
asshole says otherwise.  Me and the boys are gonna give you what you need.
And sure as shit will git a little something we need too" as he coldly
opened the kennel door and let the six quickly hardening stud dogs in.

Max, the leader, was first; investigating my body with his tongue.  It
didn't take him long to remember me and know what to do.  I yelped in pain
as his quickly thickening knot tore through my battered opening, knocking
the air out of me and locking us together in our now familiar butt to butt
embrace.  I felt Joe Bruno's hard cock slam past my lips and plow deep into
my throat tearing painfully past my throat opening.  Both Joe and Max
groaned in pleasure as they set to their tasks.  Both sets of hairy balls
slammed me hard again and again and I loved it.  Still my dick was rock
hard and stayed that way all day Sunday as cock was replaced by cock.  But
I was home again in my own comfortable surroundings and not in a strange
restaurant in New York City with a bunch of strangers or an alley being
used as a cum-dump by tramps.  I was back where I belonged at Spignotti and
Sons and it felt good to be home.  I figured next week was the start of my
final week of Sarge's Boot Camp and he had menacingly promised a truly
memorable graduation ceremony.  But today was my day off and I couldn't
think of any other place I'd rather be..."

Brutal Trucker Chapter 25.

I woke up on Monday feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from my
shoulders.  My trip into the city, my complete degradation at the hands of
strangers and common street bums reminded me how lucky I was to find
Spignotti and Sons, to be taken in and protected by all these strong, macho
horny men as I was.  I mean, sure I had to perform degrading services for
these men; to suck their cocks, swallow their thick slimy loads, let them
fuck my ass- but why shouldn't they.  After all, these were all hard
working blue collar guys who worked long lonely hours on the road away from
their own homes, in unpleasant conditions, often bored or frustrated and
often having to deal with disrespectful and unreasonable supervisors,
dispatchers, irrational trucking company rules and ingrate owners.

But at least here at Spignotti Distribution Center the men could feel
welcomed, flattered and even privileged.  They could feel like there was at
least one trucker slut who liked having them around and if I had to debase
myself then why the fuck not?  After all, what did I matter really compared
to these strong, independent individuals who collectively kept most of food
on the country's tables and merchandise on shelves to purchase.  Part of me
really enjoyed what these brutal truckers subjected me to; after all, my
dick was always rock hard (except with Mr. Spignotti who enjoyed his fuck
holes soft and in extreme discomfort).

And even the achingly handsome Mr. Spignotti, he sure treated me poorly in
public and in private but I didn't really think he felt that way.  It was
just his way.  He was curt, brusque and demanding but he was really just
reminding me and everyone else how much power he had over us.  And Sarge,
well Sarge spent most of his time in the US Army training boys to be
soldiers.  He had to be tough on them.  He had to make real men of them; or
completely break them in the process.  If he was particularly tough on his
White recruits with the total supremacy of his Black troops he was just
preparing these malleable, innocent young men for real life in the Army,
not the pansy-assed shit one saw on television commercials of the day but
real life circumstances where any weakness was quickly detected and
immediately taken advantage of by others who were clearly superior.

Sarge might even be saving their lives and I actually felt privileged that
Mr. Spignotti hired him to moonlight for my training.  In a very special
way I was actually getting state of the art training for someone in my
position and the truckers also seemed to appreciate it.  This to my mind
told spoke volumes about how Mr. Spignotti really felt about me, despite
his degrading and insulting words and deeds in public.

Monday started my last week of boot camp with a wide smile on my face and a
renewed purpose, to please as many truckers as I could during my shift.  My
new mood was clearly evident and the men responded in kind; becoming even
harsher and more domineering with me.  My smile just seemed to piss them
off more and their reaction impelled me to smile wider and more broadly in
spite of myself.  I couldn't understand this compulsion in me, to anger men
who held complete power and dominion over me to my own obvious detriment.
In spite of their angry reaction I never lost my new attitude of servitude
which only pissed them off further in a continual spiral downward of
nastier and more debasing circumstances throughout the following week.

This final week of Sarge's trucker slut boot camp continued on Monday with
calisthenics and me wearing increasingly heavier and heavier ball weights
followed by a rough and tumble free for all with all these angry and horny
truckers who desperately needed sexual and/or aggression relief.  I saw the
Spanish negotiators from Acapella several more times, each time I saw them
I notice Vinton Brundt was also there and each time the men left without
the briefcases they came with.  I imagined it would get pretty expensive to
replace these briefcases as often as they did but they just never seemed to
learn to take the cases with them when they visited Mr. Spignotti in the
middle of the night at the warehouse on a darkened industrial street Jersey
City NJ.  By Thursday of my last week in boot camp I had developed a pretty
good physique with muscular arms and legs, a tight abdomen and rounded firm
buttocks.  I could take on so many truckers with my mouth and ass, often
two or three simultaneously, that I lost count but Sarge, very kindly,
allowed me to occasionally empty the trucker's loads into the plastic pail
to make room for more trucker slime.  Of course the finale of each shift
was the ceremonial emptying of the slut pussy into the bucket and me
drinking the precious fluid down in disgusting stomach-turning gulps.
Since some of the spunk was cold by the end of my shift this was
particularly disgusting to me.  But the men all seemed to love this so I
good-naturedly acquiesced for their amusement and pleasure.  I felt great
knowing I'd sent these men back out on the road with smiles on their faces,
their anger, aggression and huge hairy balls all drained for the day.  I
felt good knowing my contributions may have saved many lives to
truck-related traffic accidents.

By Thursday, as the volume of truck traffic steadily increased and the lot
became grid-locked with horny truckers waiting to unload, the volume of
spent cum in the bucket became the only method of even estimating the
number of truckers I serviced that night.  Of course any cum remaining in
the pail at the end of my shift had to end up in my gullet as the truckers
started a new little drinking game like ones played in college (CHUG! CHUG!
CHUG! CHUG!...)  Sarge, Mr. Spignotti and Vinton Brundt all used me a few
more times before that Thursday and if I do say so myself they all seemed
satisfied with the advances I'd made.

Finally, on that Thursday (my second to last day with Sarge) Mr. Spignotti
announced in his solemn ceremonial voice "I'd like to thank Sergeant Carter
for taking time away from his very busy schedule and important national
security issues in the US Army to whip our newest addition to the Spignotti
family into shape; our ware house trucker slut for the use and pleasure of
you all.  You fuckers better have yourself a fuckin ball tonight because
tomorrow I have promised the bitch for a private graduation party for
Sergeant Carter alone."

That night the truckers used me longer and with more urgency then I'd ever
felt before.  After all with Friday now off limits these men, who had
gotten used to unrestricted access to trucker slut fuck holes, would have
to wait the entire weekend after Thursday.  God I didn't look forward to
Monday, my first full evening on the job as the "Official Warehouse
Cumdump".  At the end of the shift George Kincaid came up to me and
actually gave me a compliment.  He said, "You've really become quite the
little expert trucker slut, you know that?  A god damned fucking beautiful
fuckin slut, boy" as he cruelly rammed his hard cock deeply into my
throat... I smiled proudly inside; not able to make the actual smile with
his cock stretching my lips into a wide "O".

Private Trucker Slut Boot Camp Graduation Party-Friday evening.

On Friday for the start of my shift there was a note on the door saying,
"PRIVATE PARTY.  NO ADMITTANCE".  Still there were about thirty hard,
sweaty truckers milling around, perhaps hoping to at least hear the party
or even have a piece of me after Sarge was done.  The rumors of Sarge's
prowess here, at the base and even the Pleasure Trove were legendary.
Stepping into the room I notice the exercise mat and two six foot wooden
poles with large stainless steel eyelets at the ends.  There was nothing
else, no graduation caps or gowns, no champagne.  Clearly this was not to
be a conventional graduation ceremony.  I mean I had been to my high school
graduation but this just felt different somehow.  Perhaps the broad, wicked
smile on Sarge's face should have tipped me off.

Never one to stand on formalities and certainly not one for speeches Sarge
got right to the point.  "Strip bitch!  Get your sorry honky ass on that
mat", the wicked smile and huge tented front of his uniform told me his
cruel intentions.  Once naked, Sarge wasted no time in encasing my hands in
boxing glove-like contraptions and securing these to the ends of one of the
wooden poles.  My arms were stretched painfully and were immediately
useless to me.  Then Sarge secured my ankles with leather straps to the
ends of the remaining pole so that I was once again spread eagle, my arms
useless and my ass and balls frankly vulnerable to abuse.  My dick jumped
knowing I was now completely defenseless and at the mercy of this strong,
angry Black man.  Sarge seemed to enjoy his new power over me as his
clearly tented uniform trousers declared.

Sarge had me stand, which was not easy with the poles but I managed and
unsteady half crouch.  Even his terse command to "ATTTENNNNCHUUUUNNNN"
couldn't make me stand straight and I certainly wasn't in the Army
regulation attention stance.  This really pissed Sarge off royally.  He was
not a man used to having his commands flouted, especially right to his face
and with the interloper so clearly defenseless against his anger.  The
anger seemed to boil over in his eyes as I struggled in vain to comply with
Sarge's order.  Sarge ruthlessly hauled off and kicked my vulnerable low
hanging balls so hard and quickly that I reflexively bowed and fell forward
hitting my head on the floor.  However the strong dominant Black man took
no mercy on m; merely stood towering over my in hysterics.  My pathetic
attempt to stand was met with derisive laughter followed by more vicious
kicks from Sarge's size 14EEE, 10 eyelet black leather STEEL brand work
boots; the very same boots Sarge had so viciously boot-fucked me with a
week ago.

Damn, I noticed the crusted pussy fuck juices were still caked on the boots
showing a "high water mark" well above the ankle.  I couldn't believe those
fuckers had been so deep inside me but right then all I wanted to do was
get away from Sarge's fierce painful kicks.  Sarge laughed uncontrollably
watching me writhe uselessly on the floor as his kicks landed on my chest,
belly, ass, balls, hard cock and even my face.  If I tried to protect one
part of my body he simply shifted his attack to another.  I was completely
vulnerable and yet my cock was still rock hard and dripping precum juice.
Sarge noticed this fact silently, confident in his understanding of the
psyche of the newest trucker slut at Spignotti and Sons.  A real cat and
mouse game developed.  Sarge's cock seemed to grow larger by the minute as
the game progressed.  It was clear who the winner was.

Triumphantly Sarge towered over my prone, hapless body as I begged him to
please stop the kicking.  He only smiled and sneered, "Well fuckwadd, had
enough?  Can't take a little fuckin boot action, shit for brains?"
Suddenly Sarge became pensive as he appeared to be formulating a plan.
"Well I'll make a little deal with ya", he sneered, "you agree to do
whatever I want tonight and I'll stop my little game of pansy football.
Whatta ya say, scumbag, we got a deal, fuck wad?"

I couldn't believe it, Sarge wanted me to agree to anything he wanted and
me with my hands and legs spread wide and uselessly.  I felt too
vulnerable, too exposed to consent to this and yet my situation was such
that I really didn't have much choice.  Apparently I took too long to
decide as Sarge started his relentless boot attack even more fiercely than
before, landing blow after blow on my most intimate and sensitive areas.
There was nothing I could do; I couldn't fight so I reluctantly agreed.  An
evil smile spread across Sarge's coal black face, his pearly whites glaring
in contrast and his intense hate-filled gaze cutting directly into me like
a knife causing even more intense pain than the boots had.

Without any rest or explanation Sarge simple flipped me onto my back,
folded the pole for my arms down behind my head and lifted the leg pole
over his shoulders.  I assumed he was going to fuck me and even though I
knew it could hurt I was used to it (and quite honestly worse) during the
past week.  My look of confidence was matched by a wry smile as Sarge asked
me conspiratorially, "So fuck breath, you pretty sure you can take
everything I'm about to dish out?  You think you're man enough after my
trucker slut boot camp training?  Whatta ya say we make a little wager,
huh?  If you can make it through the entire evening without giving in", he
seemed to think about this some more, "I'll sneak you out of this hell hole
and let you get back to your comfy honky suburban home and family."  I
thought I heard gasps of disbelief from behind the door and glass
partition.  He paused at this point for this to sink in then added, "But if
I win and you break down and give in to me, well then you and me are gonna
take a little field trip to visit my Black troops of Platoon One."  An evil
smile and far away look crossed his face like he was imagining exactly how
he'd introduce me to his Black troops.  "What do you say scumbag, freedom
or more service to ole Sarge and his boys at fuckin Fort Honky hole at Fort
Dix?"

I was flabbergasted; no one had even given me this kind of choice before.
Suddenly I had control of my destiny, if not my limbs, and I was determined
to take control of my life back.  I grit my teeth, jutted my little white
peach-fuzzed teenage jaw forward to show my determination and declared,
"I'll take that bet you arrogant, mother fucking son of a bitch.  I'll take
it and I'll earn my fuckin freedom no matter what you do to me tonight.  I
can take anything you can dish out, mothafucka."  I thought I heard quiet
cheers outside as the wicked smile returned to Sarge's face.

"OK you proud fuckin macho stud (said with irony and sarcasm), your consent
phrase is 'I am your property Sir'.  Got it, you say "'I am your property'
and I'll stop what I'm doing immediately but you'll be spending some
quality time with my boys and they got a full weekend of R&R due after they
graduate from my boot camp tomorrow and I aint gonna be issuing no passes
to town.  You understand me boy?" he snarled eyeball to eyeball just inches
from my face, "thirty two young virile horny Black troops fresh from boot
camp and looking to celebrate.  You understand what I'm saying here don't
you?  My boys will make your time at this fuckin warehouse seem like god
damned fuckin Club Med.  We got an agreement then?"  All I could do was nod
agreement with my heart in my throat, not sure any longer if I was really
up to this but it was too late to back out.

Not one to waste time on preliminaries Sarge set straight to work with a
plan he seemed to feel confident would break me and make me his personal
property.  He immediately started fumbling with my balls and squeezed and
stretched them something fierce.  I grit my teeth and endured the pain
since the last two weeks of near constant attention to my balls by Sarge
had made them tough manly low hangers, bruised of course by his vicious
kicks, bartered to be sure and full of cum.  The truth be told I had not
been allowed to empty my balls since Little Timmy swallowed my cock and my
load after the Dodge Ball and Bocce Ball games.  That was a week ago and my
balls felt like they were ready to burst, they were tingling and super
sensitive as Sarge mercilessly squeezed them but I refused to admit he was
hurting me, not wanting to give the bastard the credit.  Sarge knew though,
he looked into my eyes and he knew he was hurting me and his rock hard cock
jerked and twisted in his uniform with the knowledge.

All the weight training for my balls made them hang loose in their sack,
hanging a good six inches lower than normal.  Sarge's eyes twinkled and a
jaded smirk told me he was about to make a move.  With my arms spread wide
and held down by my head and my legs spread wide over Sarge's shoulders all
I could do was twist my hips slightly in reaction to an unusual feeling
between my legs.  I couldn't believe it as I felt Sarge squeeze one tender
nut through my tight butthole followed immediately by the other.  Suddenly
I had both of my sensitive bruised balls lodged deep inside my tight, dry,
hot fuck tube and it felt simply "wrong".

It wasn't painful like when someone twists your arm or punches you, this
felt weird.  It felt foreign like when you dislocate a finger and you see
it sticking at a weird angle; you understand it should hurt but it doesn't
but you want desperately to put it back where it belongs.  That's how my
body reacted to this new weird sensation, it tried desperately to push my
testicles back outside where it knew they belonged as my bowels spasmed and
convulsed wildly to expel them.  Sarge smiled broadly; confident that he
could keep those poor traumatized balls inside with his one little finger.
He played with my body, letting one testicle almost sneak out before
painfully and dishearteningly thwarting my body's frantic attempts and
shoving it back inside.

Sarge roared with laughter as once again I heard what seemed to be the
mantra of this warehouse.  Sarge looked me directly in the eyes and
snarled, "Go ahead fucker, struggle all you want; struggle to your fuckin
heart's content.  Shit babycakes, you know me, you fuckin know all of us,
you know that your struggling just gets my ball fuckin juices boiling, gets
this ole pussy pounder ready for your pretty little hole.  That right
sugar, try to get those tender little honky balls outta there, you and me
both know they shouldn't be in there.  Go on baby, push those soft honky
baby balls out, push those fuckers out..." as once again he dissolved into
uproarious laughter.  My face reddened as my attempts were thwarted by a
single well placed strong Black index finger as he poked and prodded the
encased testicles; just so I knew that he could.  I heard snickers and
laughter outside and I knew those sadistic fuckers were placing bets on the
outcome of tonight's contest; I couldn't imagine many truckers were placing
bets on me unless of course the odds made that irresistible.

Suddenly my bowels seemed to shudder and convulse with powerful wave after
wave of peristalsis. Each wave sent crushing pressure pain through my balls
as my own body was squeezing my balls and causing me pain.  Each time my
stomach was flooded with nausea and a renewed wave of peristalsis began
without any control by me.  The cycle seemed never ending and all Sarge was
doing was keeping my balls inside with one little index finger.  A snide
smirk on his face told me he knew exactly what he was doing, that he knew
exactly what I was feeling, that he loved the power and control he had over
me and that this sadistic man was just beginning to enjoy himself.  He
seemed proud as shit that his one little black index finger was causing me
more pain than I'd ever felt before in my life.  I struggled uncontrollably
as my hips bucked involuntarily and the searing pain produced an
instinctive protective recoiling action.  This only shoved my hips up
higher and deeper onto Sarge's finger.  Just as suddenly my hips would
instinctively shoot downward; followed by round after round of thrusts and
dives of competing instincts.  I was effectively fucking myself on Sarge's
finger like a writhing, bitch in heat.  But this was my tortured body
responding, trying to prevent pain it was unintentionally inflicting
greater and greater pain upon me.

Suddenly Sarge's face light up as he declared with glee, "Shit baby, I got
to get me some pictures of this.  Fuckin gonna spread these fuckers around
every fuckin truck stop across the country.  Fill this fuckin warehouse
with sadistic bastards just like me who just fuckin loves this shit." As he
reached over, opened the desk drawer, removed the Polaroid camera and set
to work.  The sounds of click and whirl filled the warehouse as quiet
cheers rose up outside the door and partition.  "Fuck baby cakes, you'd
love that wouldn't you.  A fuckin herd of nasty sombitches just like me
crawling all over your sorry ass honky hole.  Fuckin get your little pinky
hard wouldn't it.  Shit fucker, you're rock hard even now.  Fuckin rock
hard and writhing in agony; fuckin sick bastard loves this shit.  Don't
you?" as he stared deep into my eyes and I redfaced realized that my dick
was indeed hard in spite of myself.  But I was powerless to prevent it as
my body fought against my will.  Sarge just stared cold heartedly at my
face enjoying the pain and confusion he saw; his dick twisted and jumped
noticeable against my hips.

Suddenly Sarge grabbed a fistful of my blond hair and twisted my head
painfully upward so we were eyeball to eyeball, his hate-filled gaze
filling my entire field of vision as I could actually feel the heat of his
hatred flowing over me like a punch to my gut.  Sarge then dropped my hair
and hauled off and bitch slapped me so hard my head felt like to was going
to be ripped off.  While I was still recovering from the shock he spit a
huge wad of slimy spit directly in to my mouth and used his rough calloused
fingers to work the ooze directly down my throat.  I felt my dick stiffen
and twist even further.  "Fuck I do love to abuse you pathetic honky boys",
Sarge jeered, "just 'bout the best thing in this man's fuckin world." A
wicked smile returned to his face as he became deathly serious and
continued in low testosterone-drenched guttural tones, "Yup, just 'bout the
fuckin best; but my hard dick can sure as shit think of a few other'ns it
likes gobs and gobs more" as contemptuous scornful laughter again rained
down upon me again.

"How 'bout it baby cakes, you ready to give in?  You ready to admit that
you're nothing but a fuckin bitch hole for proud Black cock?  You ready to
see how the honky-half lives in this man's fuckin Army?  You ready to join
fuckin Fort Honky Hole, baby cakes?  You ready to serve?" as yet again he
broke down in ridiculing laughter, so snide, sure and cocky was he.

But I was still not broken.  I still had fight left in me.  This was
becoming more than an opportunity to escape.  This was a matter of honor
now.  I was not about to admit defeat, no matter how much I had to endure
that evening.  Sarge seemed to read my mind; no words were spoken but the
glare that passed between us said, "Bring it the fuck on, bastard.  Do your
worst.  I can take anything you got."  Sarge smiled a knowing smile that
chilled my heart, like I had fallen into a well laid trap and he was about
to spring it.  "Good" he declared firmly.  "That's just what I wanted to
hear.  You know I like a little fight in my bitches, like a little give to
my taking.  I like to feel the bitch twist in agony, hear her squeal and
scream and know the fuckin bitch is having the time of her life.  You know
that about me, don't you boy?  We've been together long enough, been
through enough shit together that you know what I like.  Aint that so
bitch?  You know how to please a man after two weeks of Sarge's Special
Boot Camp, right?"  Sarge's eyes narrowed as if to say he expected me to
say something, his finger still easily keeping my swollen tender balls
locked inside my tight trucker pussy, despite my futile attempts to expel
them.  Time seemed to drag on for an eternity; Sarge had all the time in
the world to wait for me to reply as my hips continued to hump his index
finger painfully squeezing my balls with each thrust and beads of sweat
formed on my forehead.

I refused to give the Black bastard the benefit of my acquiescing.  I
simply, grudgingly and quietly said, "Yes Sir, I know" with as much spirit
and bravado I could muster for such a degrading admission.  "Fuck yeah,
baby.  I know you know, you been a good student, fucker.  A good trucker
slut student but now its time for the Master to get his own" his eyes
narrowed again, "we understand each other?  Now its time for the Master to
get his own".

After about thirty minutes of Sarge playing cat and mouse with my poor
traumatized balls I was finally able to tolerate the weird feeling of
having my balls crammed inside my fuck hole and Sarge's finger was no
longer sending wave after wave of pain and nausea through my body.  I had
learned to adjust and my smug attitude told Sarge he's have to find
something else to break me.  Stupidly I even looked him squarely in the
eyes and said, "Your not so strong fucker.  I can take this without even
breaking a fucking sweat.  You'll never break me.  I've been trained too
well by you and the brutal fucking truckers for that.  I've progressed too
far even for you.  Nothing you can do will ever break me, nothing!"

Well Sarge seemed to appreciate my courage and backbone, like he would have
been disappointed if I'd given in so soon.  Clearly he had plans for the
evening that were dependent on me going the next step.  Smoothly and
confidently Sarge complimented me, feeding my young malleable ego with
false confidence.  Like a spider and web I was being drawn tighter and
tighter into the trap.  The confidence and bravado in Sarge's face was both
terrifying and arousing as I lay helpless on my back, my legs spread and my
pussy vulnerable.  Sarge finally broke the spell with his declaration,
"Well baby cakes, what you say?  You ready to please your teacher `cause
I'm sure as shit ready to be pleased" as I heard the unmistakable sound of
a zipper descending and felt him reposition himself at my hips.

I became hysterical as I realized exactly what the sadistic bastard had in
mind as my heated thrusts and screams were met with derisive laughter from
Sarge and howls of glee from outside the office.  Sarge quickly removed his
finger as I felt the hard blunt tip of his huge rigid cock head press
firmly against my fuck hole, effectively holding my balls hostage.  A smile
spread across his as all he said was, "Make a fuckin wish baby, we're
celebrating Thanksgiving early this year" as he crammed his hard black cock
head through my pussy opening squeezing my tender balls tightly against the
violently convulsing canal walls.  My screech of agony echoed in my ears
like a disembodied voice as I balanced on the edge between consciousness
and divine blissful sleep.  My body reacted violently as once again I
bucked and heaved deeper and more fervently onto Sarge's humungous shiny
black cock.  I wanted to die but Sarge wouldn't let me slip into
unconsciousness as several smart slaps to my cheeks brought me back to my
cruel reality.  "Fuck that feels great, scum bag.  Ride my fuckin cock.
Ride my cock and squeeze your fuckin nuts around my cock, baby..."

End of Chapter 25.

Please let me know what you think but let me know which chapter you're
responding to.  My stories are being posted to several other sites on the
web by people other than myself.  I don't really mind this because once you
put something out there you don't have the same control and besides my box
is now filled with great emails from new readers.  Feel pleased that this
site is the furthest along in the plot.

If you like the story consider printing out your favorite chapters and
discreetly leaving them in the crappers of your local Trucker's Lounge or
Truck Stop where only men will see them.  I'm getting emails from truckers
who've read the story and are interested in finding similar bitches for
their own use on their runs.

   Danhol900@aol.com