I’m 38, 6 feet tall, weighing in at 270 pounds of rugged, stocky bear. My body is covered in fine hair across my chest, belly, back, and legs, with thicker fur spreading from my shoulders down to a thick, hairy ass. I don’t have an athletic build in the conventional sense; my wide frame and soft belly balance out my thick legs and ass, which I joke stay in shape from carrying the top half around. A big brown beard goes down to my chest, and I have a shaved head. That night I had a bit of stubble and was dressed in a black tank top, athletic shorts, and a well-worn jockstrap I’d had on for three days.
Monday night, as I drove home from my bowling league, I decided to check my Sniffies account. Earlier that day, I’d been advertising my home gloryhole and suspected I might have missed a few messages. To my surprise, there was an ad from a trucker who’d mistakenly posted he’d be in town the next day — when in fact, he was here tonight. Despite it being 9:30PM on a Monday, my willpower crumbled. I’ve always been a sucker for a trucker, so I immediately changed course, and pulled into a CVS to safely send off a quick message. I often saw activity on the apps there, though I’d only ever driven over for a planned meet-up — not to catch a live fish.
15 minutes later, I pulled into the truckstop and checked my messages - still no reply, but I made my way to the cruisy upstairs bathroom. I chose the middle stall, settling into the solitude. A few minutes later, a man entered the stall to my left — not there for cruising, just using the facilities. I idly played on my phone when the trucker finally responded. He mentioned he hadn’t had any takers and that he and his husband had just finished beating off before retiring for the night. Just as I feared I might have struck out, he shifted into logistics mode, asking if I was in the upstairs bathroom. I told him I was — though I quipped that there was a guy “doing his business” right next to me. He asked, “Do you like poppers?” Hell yes - for sucking cock at least. With that, he suggested we meet downstairs, in the handicap stall.
I left one bathroom for another, moving through the quiet corridors of the store — a space where the ambient hum and dim lighting somehow magnified the tension of the moment. I found the largest stall, settling next to another guy who was loudly attending to his own needs. I know truckers have to shit too, but why the stall right next to me? Within minutes, I spotted him lingering near the stall door and let him in. His profile was accurate - mid-40s, standing at 5’7”, with an average build but a striking pelt of salt-and-pepper hair and a matching short beard that made him look rough and rugged. His online profile boasted a Twitter account filled with steamy photos and videos — a hint of the enticing encounters he regularly pursued.
Without wasting a moment, he got right to business. Producing a silicone cock ring and a large bottle of poppers, he dropped his shorts just enough to secure the ring around himself while I quietly began to nurse his dick. I was trying to be discreet and not alert our neighbor (who probably heard him come into an occupied stall anyway). There was no other noise in the room save for my quiet slurps. If he knew, he at least wasn't saying anything.
Despite my more subtle actions, his meat quickly swelled to its full, impressive 7-inch size, crowned with a spongy mushroom head. There’s something intoxicating about feeling a soft cock harden in your mouth. I buried my nose in his pubes, savoring the subtle aroma of freshly showered skin mingled with unmistakable masculine musk as I teased his spit-slicked length with the soft bristles of my beard. His heavy, shaved balls invited my attention as I tugged on his thick sack while licking them. After just a couple minutes of us trying to be quiet like two teens not trying to wake any parents, I guess I passed the audition - he motioned with a single finger to follow him upstairs.
After a moment’s pause to give him a head start, I followed him to the next floor. From one bathroom and back to another. Since he left first, I assumed he’d be in one of the stalls, but a man already inside — possibly the same one from earlier — made it clear he wasn’t there for cruising. I lingered at a urinal until, about 60 seconds later, he appeared and whispered, “Shower 4.” I let him pass, washed my hands, and ventured down the unfamiliar hallway. I’d glimpsed the layout before, but had never explored the showers until now. He punched in a code on a keypad using his phone and led us into the shower area.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted: we were finally alone and I was going to be able to focus on servicing him. The threat of an employee catching us still loomed on my mind, but at least were weren't three feet from someone blowing their ass out on a toilet. Leaning against the wall, he quickly dropped his gym shorts once again to reveal his slightly-deflated semi. Now that we were alone, I offered to let him record our encounter, a suggestion he eagerly accepted. Things escalated rapidly from there; I was determined to put on a show for him while also staying alert in case an employee wandered in.
I worked him up to full hardness, taking long, deliberate strokes with my mouth and throat — from tip to root — while feeling the weight of his smooth, heavy balls in my hand. I let his fully-hard meat rest on my face for a moment as I licked and sucked his balls, though the absence of his cock in my mouth left me craving more. Then I refocused, holding just the head in my mouth while teasing him with my tongue and gazing up at his eyes. Seizing the moment, he unscrewed the lid from his poppers and lowered them to my face. I took a good hit, the pungent aroma intensifying my hunger, and resumed hoovering him, now thoroughly poppered up and eager to take him deep.
My hands roamed over his rugged, furry body — running over the coarse salt-and-pepper chest hair, which was as satisfying to grasp as it was enticing to explore. Tempted by his hairy pits — one of my personal favorites, I'll get them next time, I pressed on, intent on finishing what I’d started. As he leaned against the shower’s cool, tiled wall, I sensed a subtle shift in his rhythm. He began to help guide my movements, synchronizing his thrusts with the measured pace of my strokes. I tasted his first drops of precum, which he continued to leak into my mouth the rest of the encounter.
I let my hands drift lower, reaching for his deeply furred ass, pulling him as far into my mouth as I could manage — eliciting a good, low groan from him. His proportions were perfect for what I was doing long enough to really throat, and thick enough for me to enjoy the size, yet not so large as to overwhelm me. His breathing hitched as I maintained my short-but-deep strokes, my nose never straying more than a couple inches from his silky bush. At one point, he guided one of my hands on his ass, directing my fingers toward the spot where the hair grew thicker. I lubed one with my spit — hoping to get it inside. The first try was thwarted by friction and matted fur; I slicked up again and the second still met resistance. Finally, on the third attempt, I felt my finger sink into his hot hole, reaching past the first knuckle and deep to the base, a clear sign from his prostate that I was hitting the mark.
Now, with my finger exploring his ass while he continued feeding me a steady stream of precum, he uncapped the bottle of poppers once again, lowering it to my nose. I closed off one nostril with my free hand and took a deep, greedy hit — so much so that my bald head flushed bright red, but he didn't move the bottle away, so I took a second. I was flying, the combination of poppers and desire driving me on, with one singular thought: his load. Alternating between tender strokes of my finger against his nut and long, determined strokes of his shaft — down to the base, with my tongue flat on the outstroke and flicking his head as he nearly withdrew — I matched his rhythm perfectly.
I've never enjoyed facials or jacking off into my mouth as much - I love when a man cums deep in my throat, especially if they grab the back of my head and pump it deep. He clearly got into it, starting to fuck my face with an urgency I’d not seen before. His ass relaxed around my finger, inviting me to work it as I coaxed every last drop from his big balls. Poppers had a way of making me ravenous for cock and cum, and it didn’t take long for my efforts to be rewarded. His legs bent slightly as he intensified his pace, and his exertions were marked by huffs and puffs. I was completely in tune with his rhythm — until I felt his head spasm in my throat, pulsing in time with the contractions from inside him. He buried himself to the hilt - maybe even a little past it based on my nose crushed into his pubes, as he shot wad after wad into this hungry boy's gullet. I stayed parked there until his intensity began to taper off. Pulling back slightly to catch my breath, I enjoyed the lingering taste of his cum and admired his afterglow.
Afterward, he told me to run the shower for a bit. Together, we laid out a couple of used towels - enough to suggest he’d actually used the space - and then we split ways. I even bought a couple of cokes for the road, feeling that I should at least spend a little after using their facilities. Later, he messaged to thank me and promised that next time he passed through, I’d have another chance to service him and his husband. I replied confidently, “I’m your on-call cocksucker now,” leaving no doubt that I’d be waiting.
