A Trucker on Spring Break
“They shipper accidentally gave you the wrong load. You were supposed to go to Charlotte, not Miami” my agent said, obviously scared of me.
“Well you need to tell them I expect to be paid for my trip down here, the layover, and wherever they decide to send me. I am running a business, not a charity.”
“Just sit tight and I’ll see what I can do.”
I hung up, clearly in anger. I had just spent a week pulling a load from Oregon to Miami. I have already been sitting at the Pilot Truck stop for four days trying to get this load sorted out.
I had had it, I needed to get out of the truck. I was going stir crazy. I had caught up on all the truck maintenance and cleaning and now I was watching reruns of just about everything on Netflix. I was annoyed, I had just purchased a truck and trailer so that I could start making more money and here I am, sitting waiting for someone to own up to their mistake and make it right.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do, so I packed a bag with a towel, my swimsuit, sunscreen, and a good book to read. I called an Uber and thirty minutes later I was at the beach. I was a warm day in Miami, around 85 degrees outside. The beach looked pretty packed, I don’t know what I was expecting since it was Spring Break.
I am not normally a beach person, I am much more of a woods kinda gal, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
I walk to the nearest public restroom and into one of the changing rooms. Low and behold, the door to the changing room has been ripped down. Gotta love public facilities. Oh well, I have nothing to be ashamed of. I pulled my wavy blonde hair up into a bun and pulled off my shirt. I unclasped my bra and my breasts breathed a sigh of relief for about three seconds before I put on a black bikini top. Then I slid down the running pants I had on, exposing my unshaven vagina to the group of teenagers who were walking by.
“Wow” I said to myself, “maybe I should have shaved before I came here.” But it didn’t bother me, I wasn’t out to impress anyone. So I slid up my pink bikini bottom. I applied sunscreen all over my small body. I was only five feet, three inches tall and weighed around 106 pounds with C cup breasts. My right leg was covered from the top of my thigh to my ankle with a tattoo that paid homage to my home state of Alaska. I was 30 years old but I could still pass as a college sorority girl.
I calmed myself before I grabbed my things and stepped out. I had never worn anything like this in public before. Being raised in an extremely conservative family, this attire was completely new to me. I let my hair down, pulled it away from my face, and walked out into the sun.
I made a beeline for the beach, found a spot that wasn’t too crowded, put my blanket out, and laid on my stomach. I spent a few minutes admiring all the eye candy around. There were so many college hunks at the beach and I’d be willing to let any of them violate me in whatever way they saw fit. Then I pulled out my book and began reading.
I laid on the beach for a good two hours before I got thirsty. Not being extremely trusting of my fellow beach goers, I packed everything up and headed for a beach bar not too far away. I walked into open air bar crowded with shirtless college boys and they stunning lady friends. I sat at the bar, ordered a Margarita, and attempted to continue reading my book over the blaring music and screaming lightweights who get drink after one shot.
As I paid my bill and was getting ready to call an Uber back to the truck, a man wearing an Alabama State tank top walked up to me and told me he adored my tattoo. He wasn’t a particularly tall fellow, only five feet, six inches or so. But he had a handsome face with jet black hair and what appeared to be a very toned and tanned body.
“I absolutely love your tattoo,” he said. “If I didn’t have such commitment issues, I’d be covered in them.”
I gave him an awkward laugh.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked, calling the bartender over.
I wasn’t really in the mood for another drink, but my momma always told me to never deny anything if a man is paying. “A rum and Coke will do” I responded.
He ordered a daiquiri for him and a rum and Coke for me. If the margarita was any indication of how heavy handed this bartender is, I will not be driving anywhere anytime soon.
The bartender brought over our drinks, he paid and we went to a nearby table. For a couple minutes we shot the breeze. He is a MBA student at Florida State University and is down here for his last spring break hoo-rah before he graduates.
“So,” he said after taking a sip of his drink, “what brings you to Miami all by your lonesome?”
“I am a truck driver,” I began, “there was a mix up with my load and I was sent here by mistake. I am waiting for word on what to do next.”
“Damn” he responded, “I would have pegged you for a lot of things, but a truck driver was most-definitely not one of them.”
“Well you seem too pretty to be living on the road.”
Wow, how original. I get this kind of response everywhere I go. “I like to keep people on my toes” it all I could respond with.
It was getting pretty late out, it was probably 5:30pm now. I was planning of going back when he asks “Would you like to go to dinner?”
I was a little taken aback. We had only been talking like thirty minutes, plus I was not in any shape to be going anywhere nice. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t have any clothes on me that would be entirely appropriate for dinner. All I have is an old t-shirt and running shorts.”
“Oh.” He responded, “well in that case, we could order room service in my room. I am staying in this hotel.” He winked at me.
Now things were getting interesting. “Well… deal”
With that he took my hand and he lead the way. His grip was strong but his hands were soft. Unlike mine, which probably felt like sandpaper. We got in the elevator that took us to the tenth floor. His room was at the end of the hall. I was a simple room, one bed with a balcony overlooking the beach. But it was nice.
With the door closed, I sat at the desk in the room and started searching for the menu. While I was searching he walked over to me, but his strong hands on my shoulders, and bent down to kiss my neck. I pretended not to pay any attention to him devouring my neck. I found the menu and started calling out entrees.
“Why don’t we skip dinner and go to dessert?” he said as his hands slid over my breasts and untied my bikini.
I wasn’t about to let a man take control, I was always on top. Working in the trucking industry for seven years, I’d developed pretty good muscle in my arms. As my bikini top fell to the floor, I spun the chair around and pushed him on the bed. I climbed on top of him and began kissing him. I could feel his erection through his swim trunks, I knew it was going to be a good night for my pussy.
He stopped kissing me long enough to fling me on the bed, take his shirt off, and get on top of me. I felt his hands sliding down my bikini bottom and begin exploring my unshaven pussy. When his hands got to my blonde mound, he stopped kissing me, gave me a puzzled look, “It is refreshing for a woman to be natural down there.” And with that, he continued kissing and exploring me. I slid his swim trunks down, flung him back on the bed, and took his massive cock in my hand. It was a good eight and a half inches long and pretty thick. It didn’t take long for my mouth to engulf his cock. I had a knack for sucking dick, I didn’t have a gag reflex, so I could take his whole member in my mouth like it was nothing. His eyes grew as big as saucers the first time I dehydrogenated his whole cock.
While I was sucking his cock, he reached over and pulled out a condom, when I was ready, pulled my mouth off, applied the condom to his member and got on top of him. I started kissing him as I guided his cock into my vagina. It had been years since I’d had sex, so I was practically a virgin again.
I felt the pressure inside my vagina growing as his cock slid deeper and deeper into me until I had taken the whole thing. After I sat there for a few seconds, I started pumping his dick like a piston. After a few minutes it was clear the neighbors would hear me screaming as I fucked him, so he gagged me with a pair of his used boxers. At one point I was going so hard I’m surprised the building was shaking.
I could tell by the expression on his face he was ready to explode. I pulled myself off his rod, yanked off the condom, and began sucking his dick. Within seconds of wrapping my dick around his mouth, he exploded. Spurt after spurt of warm, salty seed flowed into my mouth and down my throat. The whole time I’d made eye contact with me.
When he finally finished, I went up to kiss him. When I was inches from his face he threw me on my back, spread my legs, and started devouring my pussy. This was the first time the pain from sex had set in, but that didn’t stop me from orgasming multiple times as he caressed my hairy vagina with his tongue.
After the third orgasm, he laid in bed next to me and kissed me. “Wow.” Was all he could say.
“So…” I said, “about dinner?”
He laughed. And walked to get the menu, he was still hard as a rock. We called the desk and each ordered a hamburger and fries. Twenty minutes later, the room service boy came. My lover opened the door in a pair of boxers that did nothing to hide his massive erection. I was still in bed, as the boy came in, I used a pillow to cover my breasts. I smiled at the room service boy as he signed the receipt, he was young, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in high school still. I could see his erection building inside the boy’s pants. I could tell he was going to make many women happy one day.
After the room service boy left, we began eating. “So, I know it seems kinda late for this, but I never caught your name,” I asked.
“My name is Brian” he responded.
After dinner, Brian and I took a shower and then he drove me back to the truck stop. I showed him around the truck. It wasn’t that big, a simple sleeper in a Peterbilt 589. He was impressed. We exchanged numbers and anytime I was passing by FSU, I made sure to hit him up. Which I did, many times.