The Mature Truck Driver and Those Hot Nights

The third day began with Rubén waking up before me. I felt him moving in the narrow bed of the cab and, when I opened my eyes, he was already standing, stretching with his back arched. He climbed down from the truck without saying a word, and I stayed there staring at the ceiling, going over what had happened in the early hours of the morning. I didn’t know what to do about him: whether to confront him, pretend nothing had happened, or keep quiet forever.

The sheet on his side was soaked with sweat. I got up, went into the little bathroom at the service station, and while I was inside, I heard him climb back in. My stomach tightened. What was I supposed to say to him?

I came out and found him standing right in front of me.

“Good morning,” he said, far too calmly.

“Ah… good morning,” I replied.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Perfectly. Better than in the seat,” he replied, letting out a laugh I couldn’t tell was mocking.

I stayed silent. Is he playing dumb, or does he really think I didn’t notice? Before I could get my thoughts in order, he asked whether I wanted to shower. There were showers at the station. I said yes, took the towel from my suitcase, and went with him. We paid, they let us in, and under the water I tried to think clearly. I didn’t reach any conclusion.

I dried myself, put my shorts and a black T-shirt back on, and returned. Rubén had already showered and brought back something to eat. I ate sitting on the bed; he ate in the driver’s seat.

“Carla, if you want, hang the towel outside so it can dry,” he told me.

“Thanks,” I replied, and went outside to hang it up.

We resumed the journey. That afternoon the heat was much worse than on the previous days. The air conditioning barely worked; my forehead was beaded with sweat and my back was stuck to the seat. We stopped to buy water and drank several liters in an hour and a half. It was so hot that we didn’t even feel like talking.

At some point Rubén took off his shirt without asking anything, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Seeing him like that, with his broad chest and glistening skin, gave me a sudden flash of envy. I thought about it for a long while, then made up my mind.

“You know what? I’m going to take off my shirt too. I can’t stand it.”

“Oh, yeah? It’s worse than the other days, isn’t it?”

“It’s exhausting,” I said.

I went to the back, found a bra that didn’t look too provocative, and put it on. I returned to the passenger seat feeling somewhat embarrassed. I immediately noticed his eyes drop to my breasts without the slightest attempt at concealment. The strange thing was that, as the miles went by, he kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye again and again. It made me uncomfortable and, at the same time, felt almost like a compliment.

When night fell, I put my camisole back on. We parked beside the other trucks and went to have dinner at a small restaurant. While I was finishing my plate, Rubén stepped outside for a moment. He returned with a bag.

“Look what I bought you out there,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked, setting down my fork.

I opened the bag. It was a very lightweight pair of shorts, but also very short. They weren’t the kind of garment I would wear, although they would be useful in that heat. I didn’t want to be rude.

“Thank you very much. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

“I saw them and thought you’d be comfortable in this heat.”

He still had to eat, so I told him I would go on ahead to the truck. I climbed in, took off the shorts I was wearing, and put his on. They were tiny: they left my entire legs bare and revealed more than they should have. I tried pulling them down, but then my underwear showed above the waistband. That was what I was doing when Rubén climbed in and, with the curtain open, the first thing he saw was me.

“I’m back. Wow, you look cool. You’re even making me want to put on a pair,” he joked.

“Yes, they really are cooler than mine,” I admitted.

“Maybe you’ll sleep better in them.”

Does he expect me to sleep wearing these? I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so I let it pass.

I made the bed and saw him sit in the passenger seat. I thought he would sleep there, so there was no way I was going to ask whether he wanted to come to bed after what had happened the night before. I closed the curtain, turned off the interior light, and because of the extreme heat, took off my shirt so I could sleep wearing only my bra and the shorts he had given me.

Just when I thought everything was calm, I heard him entering the cab. I felt him settle into the empty space in the bed. Panic returned: I hadn’t expected him to sleep there, and besides, I was wearing even less than the previous time. I pretended to be asleep. About thirty minutes passed without anything happening, and I was almost drifting off.

Then I felt the tips of his fingers on my waist. I gave a little start that may have betrayed me, but he didn’t care. He continued moving over me slowly, first along my waist, then down my leg, no longer with his fingertips but with his whole hand. He moved it as he pleased, squeezing the flesh of my thighs as if he were measuring me, feeling me over like someone choosing ripe fruit.

Do I move? Pretend I’m waking up? Let it go? The more I thought, the farther his hand traveled and the faster my pulse raced.

The caress at my waist caused an inner tickle that, against all logic, began to ease my nerves instead of heightening them. I felt confused by that. Then he placed his entire hand against me, huge and hot, covering half my belly. He leaned forward and I felt his bare chest against my back: he wasn’t wearing a shirt either. Every time he breathed, his stomach brushed my lower back. And lower down, against my buttocks, I felt a hard bulge pushing through the thin fabric of the shorts. His cock was getting hard, and he was driving it between my ass cheeks without the slightest attempt to hide it, moving his hips very slowly, in barely perceptible circles, as though testing me.

The final straw was when his hand dropped to the edge of my shorts and began moving up over my ass. He traced it with one finger, slowly, again and again. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and felt one bare cheek; there was no underwear in the way because the shorts were so tight I hadn’t put on panties. He kneaded me slowly, spreading and closing his fingers, and I felt his cock pulsing against me, growing thicker and thicker. And the little devil on my shoulder grew accustomed to that fondling. It no longer alerted me; I was curious to know how far he dared to go.

He moved his fingers down the cleft of my ass, very slowly, barely brushing me, until he stopped right where my pussy began. That was when I realized I was wet. Dripping wet. The fabric of the shorts clung to my lips, and he noticed, because he let out a hoarse breath against the nape of my neck. His finger drew a slow circle over that dampness, and I clenched my teeth to keep from moaning.

Suddenly he pressed just slightly and withdrew his hand, placing it back on my waist. He didn’t move again. I assumed he had fallen asleep. I lay there wondering why I had grown accustomed to something I hadn’t consented to. For a moment I felt disgusted, but the heat he had left inside me was stronger, and in the end I fell asleep with his hand there, my pussy throbbing and the sheets soaked with the juices he had drawn from me without even penetrating me.

***

Morning came again. When I woke, I immediately noticed that Rubén wasn’t in bed; his spot was soaked. While searching for the sheet, I ran my hand over my body and felt that the shorts had shifted: half my ass was exposed. I was terribly embarrassed and quickly adjusted them. Could this have something to do with him?

I didn’t want to get up, but I had to. I couldn’t see him anywhere, so I went alone to the restaurant from the night before and ate something. From inside, I saw him arrive and climb into the truck. I was angry and confused at the same time. Maybe my father had been right when he told me to be careful around him. I paid and climbed in, because I had no other choice.

“There you are! Where had you gone?” he said, worried.

“Sorry, I went to get something to eat.”

“Oh, okay. I looked in and you weren’t there. You can imagine how scared I was.”

“Relax, I’m here,” I replied.

He told me we would stop at a nearby place with showers. At last I was able to bathe, even with cold water. I put on the shorts from the previous day and a short-sleeved blouse, the only clean one I had left. We continued on our way. The silence was uncomfortable, for me and, I think, for him too, because he forced a conversation.

“Aren’t you hot in that blouse?”

“Yes, but I’ll have to get used to it.”

“The heat isn’t as oppressive as yesterday, right?”

“It’s still heavy, but yes, yesterday was worse.”

No matter how friendly he acted, I no longer saw him the same way. That afternoon I had to change out of my sweat-soaked blouse and put on the camisole, which smelled far too much of sweat, but there was no alternative. Before night fell, Rubén warned me:

“Carla, in a little while we’ll stop at a gas station to sleep. The thing is, I’m going to meet up with some friends for a few drinks, is that okay?”

I got nervous. My father had told me to be careful around him when he drank, but who was I to forbid him anything?

“Okay… that’s fine. I’ll stay in the truck.”

We reached a place full of trucks and parked among several others. There was a group of about five truckers. Rubén went over to them, and I went to a food stall to have dinner. He started drinking early; it must have been around ten. At eleven I finished dinner and headed toward the truck, but he shouted at me:

“Carla, come here!”

They all turned to look at me, and the pressure made me walk over. He offered me a beer.

“Don’t you want one? Come on, it’ll do you good in this heat.”

He was right: we had barely drunk any water all day.

“Okay, just one,” I gave in.

I sat on a bench beside him. The others barely spoke to me, probably out of shyness, and that suited me. They talked for hours; I looked at my phone or exchanged the occasional bit of nonsense with Rubén. When I checked the time, it was two in the morning and I had drunk four beers. The cold in my throat was delicious, but I’m a terrible drinker and the dizziness was already intense. I told him I was going to the truck.

He was worse off than I was; I counted about eleven bottles at his feet. He had a cheerful drunkenness.

“Sure, Carla. I’ll come up in a little while too; it’s late already.”

“Okay, I’ll go on ahead.”

“Hey, you guys, say goodbye to Carla!” he shouted at them.

“Bye, little Carla!” they all chorused, singing their words.

It amused me, and I said goodbye to them with a smile. I climbed into the truck, opened the curtain, and it was still hot inside. With the refreshing buzz of the beers upon me, I took off my shirt and bra, put my camisole back on by itself, and changed into the shorts he had given me. Small, but cool. Again without panties, because the clean pair I had was my last and I didn’t want to stain it with sweat.

The dizziness wouldn’t go away, so I lay down at once, facing the seats. Five minutes later Rubén came in. You could hear it in his throat every time he swallowed, he was in such bad shape. He sat in the passenger seat, covered his face with his hands to pull himself together, took a pair of shorts from beneath the bed, and went back to the front.

Some light from outside came through the curtain. I watched him take off his shirt and leave his enormous chest bare, glistening with sweat. I kept watching out of curiosity, I admit. Then he stood between the two seats, lowered his trousers, and then his underwear, which fell to the floor. The silhouette of what hung between his legs took my breath away. He had a huge, thick cock, long even half-hard, hanging heavily between his legs, its fat head showing beneath the foreskin. His balls swung beneath it, swollen and dark. A shiver ran down my back and, suddenly, the dizziness disappeared. I swallowed involuntarily and even licked my lips. What am I thinking? What’s happening to me?

He put on only the shorts, and I quickly turned away so he wouldn’t notice I had seen him. I heard him enter the cab, and my nerves went into overdrive. I felt him lie down and, in the most shameless way, press his whole chest against my back, his legs against mine and his crotch against my ass. He was already half-hard, and he crushed it between my cheeks, marking every inch of me through the fabric. Inside, the same heat as the night before flared up, and the drunkenness scrambled my thoughts. My only plan was not to move.

This time his hand wasn’t caressing me: he gripped my waist and pulled my hips toward his, rubbing his cock against my ass. I was extremely nervous, but desire was on the same level as fear, so little by little I began to let him. He moved down to my thighs and squeezed them with that big hand, then spoke in my ear.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?”

I froze. I didn’t answer. He continued, suddenly moving to my ass, and I gave a little jump. He slipped his hand beneath my shorts, grabbed one entire cheek, and squeezed hard, digging his fingers into the flesh.

“With the way I’m touching you, you would’ve woken up by now,” he whispered, his tongue thick with alcohol.

He moved his hand up my belly to one of my breasts. I hunched my shoulders involuntarily and heard him give a little laugh, as if mocking me. My mind was racing. He kneaded my tit, pinched the nipple that was already hard as a stone, squeezed my ass, ran over my legs, and I couldn’t even move. He rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging at it, and a lash of sensation shot down to my pussy. A sigh escaped me that I could no longer hide.

“Look… look what I’ve got here,” he said.

He took my hand, guided it behind me, and placed it over his bulge. That was when my mind stopped thinking. I felt all of it against my palm, thick, heavy, pulsing beneath the fabric. My nerves began to give way, and I felt myself getting wet, the juice running down my thighs. He moved my hand over it until I pulled away, embarrassed, but he placed it back, now with no fabric between us: he had lowered his shorts enough to pull out his cock. I closed my fingers around it, unable to encircle it completely. It was hot, hard as iron, with smooth skin and a thick vein throbbing beneath my thumb. I began moving my hand up and down slowly, feeling his skin tighten with each stroke, feeling the foreskin slide back and uncover his thick, wet mushroom head. When I reached the top, I rubbed the tip with my palm and noticed a thick drop that had already leaked out, slippery as oil.

“That’s it, that’s it…” he panted in my ear. “Fuck, what a little hand.”

I felt embarrassed again and pulled my hand away. Rubén took me by the hip, rubbed himself against me, and I understood there was no going back. His naked cock burned between my ass cheeks, slipping into the cleft, searching for the opening beneath my shorts. He pushed my shoulder until I was on my back. He passed his right arm beneath my neck, holding me, while with the other hand he stroked himself, slowly jerking off against my hip. It was dark, but I knew he was watching me.

“Weren’t you asleep? You were sure touching things around here,” he said.

He placed my hand on him again. He was rock-hard, thicker than before, swollen. His enormous torso covered mine, making me look tiny beside him. I started again, slowly and timidly, moving my hand from the bottom upward, feeling the head turn purple beneath my fingers.

“Mmm, I see you do like it,” he murmured, so close that I could smell the beer on his breath. “Keep going, milk me properly, just like that.”

He yanked up my camisole and left my tits bare. He stared at them for a second in the gloom, then lowered his mouth. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, licking and nibbling it, while his free hand kneaded the other breast. I kept jerking him off, faster and faster, his cock sliding between my fingers from all the fluid leaking out of him.

Without warning, he lowered his hand and moved his fingers between my legs. I jumped.

“Hey, easy… it’s hot down here,” he said, moving his fingers over the shorts. “Look at your shorts, they’re soaked. Look at you dripping, you dirty girl.”

My body responded on its own, and I couldn’t believe it. He pressed a finger against me through the fabric, searching for the cleft of my pussy, and traced it again and again until a moan burst out of me.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He sat up, yanked off my shorts, leaving me naked from the waist down, and sat on the edge of the bed so he could keep touching me. He pushed my knees apart, spreading my legs, and stared at my pussy, barely illuminated by the light filtering through the curtain.

“Look at you. I knew you were this hot,” he said, slowly running a finger over my lips. “All shaved, all pink. And look at the way your juice is running down to your ass.”

He parted my lips with two fingers and blew on me. I shuddered on the bed. Then he lowered his head and gave me one long lick, from bottom to top, ending at my clitoris. I grabbed his head without realizing it and let out a moan the truckers outside would have heard if it hadn’t been for the engine of a refrigerated truck running nearby.

“Shh, be quiet, you dirty girl,” he said with his mouth pressed to my pussy. “You’re going to wake up half the gas station.”

He licked me again, this time slipping the tip of his tongue between my lips, tasting me from top to bottom, sucking my clitoris as if it were a candy. He inserted a finger while he licked me, and I arched my back against the sheet. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them.

“Fuck… if I put this in here, it’ll slide right in by itself, won’t it? Don’t you feel it?” He pushed the tip of one finger inside little by little, then two, moving them in circles, bending them upward, searching for me inside.

I imagined what he was saying and grew even hotter. His fingers went in and out with a wet, obscene sound mingling with my breathing. When he pulled them out, they were shining with juice, and he dragged them across my lips.

“Taste yourself, come on. Taste how delicious you are.”

I opened my mouth without thinking and sucked his fingers, feeling my own thick, salty flavor on my tongue. He growled, and without warning climbed over me, planting his knees at my sides, until he was on top of me. He was enormous. His cock swung above my face, hard and aimed at me, its head swollen and a thick drop hanging from the tip. He brought the head to my lips and tapped it against my chin, leaving a wet trail of saliva and precum.

“Open your mouth, Carla. Open it,” he ordered.

I opened it just a little, and he pushed his way in. He pressed the tip against my tongue, and I tasted the salt, the hot skin, the weight of all of it inside my mouth. He held my head with both hands, setting the pace, fucking my mouth slowly at first and then deeper. The head bumped against my throat, and I had to open my jaw as wide as I could so my teeth wouldn’t scrape him. Tears sprang to my eyes and I began to choke.

“Take it all, like that… open it wide,” he panted, looking down at me. “Fuck, your face looks so good with my cock inside it.”

A string of saliva ran from the corner of my mouth to my neck. When he pulled it out, I coughed and gasped, my mouth open and full of drool.

“Spit it out,” he ordered.

I obeyed, and he gripped his cock and dragged it across my lips, coating himself with my saliva. He put it back in, this time deeper, and I took control with my hand, starting to stroke him myself, eagerly, sucking his head all the way in while weighing his balls with my other hand. I heard him sigh and moan softly, and knowing I was doing it well excited me even more. I licked his entire shaft from base to tip, sucked his balls one by one, feeling them tighten inside the sac, then returned to the tip and sucked his head whole.

“I can’t hold back anymore,” he panted.

He moved off my face, grabbed my ankles, and spread my legs wide. He positioned himself between them, and I felt the head press right against the entrance to my pussy, sliding up and down over my soaked lips, smearing me with his own fluids.

“Wait!” I said, alarmed. “Do you have a condom?”

“It’s fine. I want to feel you properly.”

“No, no… if there isn’t one, then…”

I didn’t get to finish. I felt the tip press harder against me, and that shiver silenced me. He closed his eyes. He pushed slowly, and he was so thick that I felt myself being opened, felt him separating my walls inch by inch. He got the head barely inside and it already hurt; he pulled out, spit on his cock, pressed it against me again, and this time pushed in farther, halfway.

“Ow, it hurts, wait,” I pleaded.

He didn’t stop. He withdrew a little and thrust back in, this time all the way. I felt his balls land against my ass, and my breath caught.

“Damn… you’re so tight,” he panted. “Fuck, this pussy is squeezing me. You swallowed every inch.”

The initial pain mingled with the sensation of having him completely inside me, filling every corner, pushing deep. When he began to move, he braced his arms on either side of my head and started thrusting, making the entire cab creak. His cock withdrew almost to the tip and plunged back in, striking my deepest point with every thrust. A moan escaped me with each push, one I couldn’t contain. I clung to his arms, too large for my hands, and ended up hanging from them.

“Take it… take it… you like it this way, don’t you?” he panted against my ear. “Fuck, look at me putting it in you. Look at you swallowing every inch.”

He lifted my legs and rested them on his shoulders, folding me in half. From that angle he went deeper, and every blow drew a higher moan from me. I could see his sweaty face over mine, the muscles of his chest tense, and I felt his balls slap against my ass every time he thrust all the way in. The bed in the cab creaked; the entire truck rocked on its shocks.

“Get on all fours,” he grunted, pulling out abruptly.

He turned me himself, and I barely had time to move. He put me on my knees, my ass raised, and drove his cock into me with one thrust. A cry escaped me, and I covered my mouth with my hand. He gripped my hips with both hands and began fucking me faster, mercilessly, skin striking skin with a wet slapping sound because I was so wet. He pushed his thumb into my mouth and pulled my head backward, arching my spine.

“That’s it… this is how I should’ve taken you from the first day,” he panted. “Cock-teasing slut, with your little shorts, wiggling that ass at me. Take it, take it…”

His hips collided with me again and again, and the sound of flesh against flesh filled the cab. I could have sworn the truck was moving. The heat, the smell of sweat and beer, his breath against my neck: everything drove me toward an orgasm I couldn’t stop. He slipped one hand beneath me and found my clitoris, rubbing it in circles while continuing to pound me from behind, and I felt everything crash over me. My legs trembled, my pussy contracted around his cock, and I came undone on the mattress, moaning into the pillow to muffle my cry.

“Fuck, this little slut squeezes so tight when she comes,” he growled without stopping. “Again, give me another one, come again.”

He turned me onto my back again. He spread my legs and thrust into me once more, this time looking into my eyes, his arms braced on either side of my head. I was wrecked, my tits bouncing with every thrust, my mouth open, unable even to moan properly.

“I’m going to come, Carla,” he said, speeding up.

I was about to come again too. A sigh caught in my throat, and I didn’t have time to ask him for anything. At the last second he pulled out. He gripped his cock and jerked off over me. I felt the first hot impact on my chin, a thick jet reaching my lip and leaving a drop on my tongue; then another on my neck, on my collarbone, then on my chest, between my tits, and the last on my belly, in a warm pool that trickled toward my navel. There were five or six spurts in a row, each accompanied by his hoarse grunt. His cum covered me everywhere, thick and sliding over my skin, mixing with the sweat. I lay there exhausted, defeated, my legs hanging and trembling, my eyes closed, his salty taste still in my mouth.

Rubén collapsed beside me, and the entire bed shook. I heard him snoring almost immediately: he had fallen asleep, his cock still half-limp, resting against his thigh, shiny with my juices and his. Catching my breath, I began to notice the smell of sweat and sex inside the cab. It smelled like him, like me, like semen. I ran my hand over my belly and felt the sticky cum between my fingers. Sleep overcame me before I could understand when I had allowed all of that to happen.