truck stop luv
by Kali Pornia

i sat in the parking lot with my cup of dunkin donuts coffee watching the big rigs pull in one after the other. i had talked to him on the phone just 20 minutes ago.

"hey harris are you excited to see me?"
"ya are you there yet?"
"no, i'm about 30 minutes away"
"aw dude, you said ten o'clock, you lied."
"naw, i didn't lie. i may have put myself in a better light than was actual, but i didn't lie."
"it's late, boss"
"aw poopie pants, don't be a brat, i'll be there soon and i'm very excited to see you."

so there i sat parked in the TA parking lot at 10:30 at night waiting for my truck driver. the phone rings.

"hey! i'm pulling in right now."
"nuh uh, a bus is pulling in right now."
"ok, after the bus is a white truck and then me... i'll stop and you just hop in the passenger side door of the truck."

he pulls up and i climb up into the cab of the truck, feeling slightly like a hooker from a bad 80's film. at least i'm wearing my boots. we pull up to the gate, he takes a ticket and we go onto the lot and find a parking spot. he's an old pro by now. taking turns perfectly and navigating the narrow rows to find a tight spot between two other big rigs.

"wow, you're pretty good at this."
"430,000 miles, i should be."

he presses buttons and pushes various pedals until the truck sighs and lunges to a slumber. he pulls out a keyboard and types in some information from a piece of paper he takes down from his visor.

"paperwork," he grumbles.
"hA! you don't know anything about paperwork," i say, thinking of the piles on my workdesk that will need to be tended to at 7:30 in the morning.
"let's go sit in the back."

you'd be surprised at how much room is in that back part of the tractor portion of a tractor trailer. it's like a hotel room. it reminds me of the cross country trips we used to take in our various vw pop-ups. those were fucking good times. he and i against the world. driving through texas as fast as 10 would take us. no one wants to get caught driving through texas in a vw bus with a pound of dirt weed.

we sat in the back of his big rig and i remembered living in the back of the vw in los angeles. we would move from parking meter to parking meter on 3rd street in hollywood because we liked to eat at johnnies coffee shop before i put on my hard rock uniform to wait on customers still wearing their name tags from the price is right. after two months of living in the van, the apartment that we rented in koreatown felt like a warehouse loft.

that was 8 years ago. i can't describe adequately what has happened in the time from then til now. but sitting in the bedroom attached to the back of his rig last night made me wanna laugh cry and cum all at the same time.

he holds me tight and kisses my face and neck. he has a beard now, but he still smells the same. i never did like the way he kissed. he kisses like he eats pussy. don't get me wrong, he can eat pussy like a champ, but when he's kissing your face the same way as he kisses your cooch... i can't really explain it, it's just weird.

he puts his hands around my neck and squeezes and then moves down my shoulders, neck and tits. he grabs my hips and pulls me toward him as he buries his face in my neck. i lay back as he lifts my shirt.

the mattress makes a funny muffled squeaking noise. i can't shut my head up.


"he kisses like he eats pussy."

That's outstanding.


That's hot


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