The Truckhawk Trucker
John E. Smith P.O. Box 7762 Port St. Lucie, FL 34985-7762
THE TRUCKHAWK TRUCKER
A "truckhawk" is a gay man who is sexually attracted to truck drivers, especially the transcontinental kind who drive those massive eighteen-wheel tractor-trailor rigs that roar past us at high speed on the interstate highways. Just as some gay men have a fetish for sailors, marines, bikers, cowboys, firemen, or I guess, any other easily identifiable stereotypical occupational group, (I even had a friend who was a Roman Catholic who specialized in Protestant ministers) a truckhawk specializes in truckers. Somehow, the mystique that attracts truckhawks is the myth that truckers are hard-ridin', fast-fuckin', western-boot wearin', country-music lovin', knights of the open road, who are often away from home for long periods of time, away from normal sexual relief by wife or girlfriend, and are perpetually horny, perhaps because their prostates are being continuously pounded by the hard-bouncing truck seat, so that they have an overpoweringly uncontrolable need to seek frequent release from sexual tension wherever they can find it, even from a gay guy's eager mouth or ass, in a rest-area toilet, a truck-stop men's room, or the handy little bed that many of them have in the back of their cab.
I can report with authority that part of the trucker mystique is true. I am a trucker, and I am always horny. On the road, I could come off three or four times a day and still build up a head of sexual steam bouncing along the highway in the cab of my Peterbuilt truck.
And, it was this horniness that led me to join the ranks of the Legion of Truckhawks. As some of the older truckhawks used to say, "This year's trade is next years competition." And, they were right. I started out just "feeding my cock to the queers," as the truckers say, letting gay guys suck my cock in the rest-area toilets along the Interstates.
I never had any trouble getting someone to suck my cock for me because I have been told that I am a good-looking trucker. I am now in my mid thirties, but when I started, I was in my mid- twenties, 6' 3", 220 muscular pounds, well-built because I played football and wrestled in high school, and I still keep myself in good shape, exercising at a gym when I can. I have a few tattoos up my arms, and I have a big, nine-inch uncircumcised cock. I've been told that I am handsome, in a rugged sort of way, and I have a big black moustache like Tom Selleck of Magnum PI fame. Anyway, I never had any trouble finding a cocksucker who wanted to suck my cock for me any time of the day or night.
Then, as time went on, I began to notice the cocks of other truckers as they stood at the open- trough urinals in some of the rural rest stops. I began to wonder what it would feel like to kneel in front of another trucker's fly, take his cock in my mouth and suck it, to giving him as much pleasure as the gays who sucked my cock had given me. I wondered what it would feel like to sublimate my sexual needs in the service of another man.
I'll never forget the first time I tried it. It was night and I was pissing in one of those open troughs in a rest area in South Carolina, when a big beautiful black trucker came in, who, I found out later, was hauling watermelons to New York City. Well, there were no electric lights in this countrified pissoir. It was dark, but enough light from a bright, full moon, filtered in through the windows so that I could see this black trucker haul out the biggest hank of black uncircumcized trucker manmeat that I had ever seen. He pissed a horse-strong stream for the longest time, playing, as little kids do, with pissing on things in the bottom of the trough, washing them toward the drain hole. He finished pissing his last few spurts, stripped down that big black firehose several times. When he did this, I could see that that black snake stretched out to at least a foot in front of his body, an indication of how big his cock would get when it was hard.
Then, I saw his hand slowly begin to stroke his charcoal log with a rhythmical stroke. As they used to say when I was in the Army, "Shake it more than twice and you're playing with it." There could be no doubt about it, that big black stud was looking right at me and playing with his cock, communicating subliminally, with his eyes, without a word being spoken, that he wanted me to suck that big black Motherfucker for him.
I took the plunge. I went over to where he was standing at the urinal; even as tall as I am, he towered over me. He turned toward me, sideways to the trough, still stroking that immense piece of black trucker cockmeat that was getting bigger by the minute. It was then that I decided that I must have been born to the truckhawk priesthood because I knelt willingly, fingering the Levi altercloth. He was so tall that when I knelt, my mouth barely came up to the level of the alter with its proffered sacrimental chalice. I took the chalice in my hands, gently peeled back the covering napkin, put the chalice to my lips, and savored the musky odor of black trucker uncircumcised cock, that had been on the road without bathing for several days, as if it were thrice-blessed sacrimental wine. As his cock got harder and harder, I tongued and licked and gently bit off all the smegma that was caught behind the corona of his cock under his foreskin, savoring the odor as if it were rare Limburger cheese.
After completing this lingual ablution of his cock, during which time it got fully hard and expanded to its magnificent proportions, I took it into my mouth. Of course, this first experience took place before the time of AIDS, when it was safe to suck cocks without fear of contracting a fatal disease. In this day and age, I would never practice this kind of unsafe sex. Even though I dislike the taste of rubber, I've found some mint-flavored condoms that don't taste too bad; but, this ebony stallion would have required a black condom made for elephants, preferable licorice flavored, making it a licorice stick worthy of the Guiness Book of Records and a veritable all-day sucker.
I took that bloated black babymaker into my mouth as far as as I could and I began to wonder, when it hit my epiglottus with barely the head in my mouth, if I hadn't, you'll pardon the expression, bitten off more than I could chew. Maybe it would have been wiser of me to Christen my virgin mouth with a love muscle of more normal proportions. Maybe I was trying to scale Mt. Everest with my first Boy Scout hike. These thoughts of self-doubt raced through my mind as I considered backing out, as I was sure others had done, when confronted with that King Kong dong. However, these thoughts were balanced, by the sexual excitement this trucker caused in me, a sexual excitement that was great enough to make me kneel before his regal presence in the first place, as if he were an African king who held his royal status because of the size of the flesh scepter, that symbol of primitive power, that he carried between his legs. Here was a presence worthy of my virginity, for no smaller cock, even though it might have been easier to learn on, no specimen of kingly negro-trucker beauty less spectacular than he was, could have caused me to submit shamelessly to serving him, could have caused me to surrender the use of my body to him for his carnal needs, could have induced me to sacrifice my ego on the alter of his id.
His deep-bass voice, reverbrating against the hard, tiled walls of the toilet, as regal-sounding as Paul Robeson playing the role of Otello in Otello the Black Moor, roused me from my ruminations. "Hey, cocksuckah, ain't y'all done this afore? Get tah work on that black Motherfuckah, cuz ah ain't got all naht. Ah's gots to get ma black ass uptah DC 'for dawn."
He must have sensed that I was inexperienced because, in addition to challenging my experience, as he had, he began to take a more active role in our activities. He began to make love to me with those big Smithfield hams that he had for hands, relaxing me so that I could service him properly and, with his hands, he began to guide the motions of my head. He caressed my face and head with his hands, lovingly running his fingers through my curly brown hair, so different from the close-cropped crown of kinky black hair he wore on his head and the bristly-scratchy patch of Brillo that decorated the love jungle at the base of his black baton d'amour, his schwartz schwantz, like black tulips from Holland blooming in the Spring around the base of the Eifel Tower, celebrating fertility and the renaissance of life after a long, bleak winter.
He tickled my ears, cheeks, and neck with his finger tips, sending chills through my body and firing me with the flame of passionate ardor that made me resolve that to satisfy this big, black trucker, I would become a "quick cram" student in his school of sensual delights, I would recall all of the magnificent blow jobs that I had had before in my life, and I would try to emulate the technique that those cocksuckers had used so skillfully to satisfy my sexual needs.
Then, with one of his hands behind my head, he took his cock out of my mouth, held by his other hand, and ran the wrinkled tip of his foreskin, still wet with my spit, around my lips and my cheeks. I tried to follow the head of his cock with my mouth so that I could get his cock back into my mouth again, but he was too fast for me. His cock was always just a little ahead of me, teasing me, challenging me to catch up with the snotty end of his big, black love muscle, that left slimy tracks on my face like the precoital fluid of a herd of horny snails racing to get to a snail orgy.
Then holding my head in both hands, he held my head so that his blind-eyed cyclops waved up and down in from of me like the baton of Eugene Ormandy conductor Philadelphia orchestra playing Tchaikowski's 1812 Overture and I could just tantilizingly titillate the puckered tip of his foreskin with the tip of my tongue as it waved past my tongue. Little by little he moved his hips closer and closer to me so that, like a dog wrapping his tongue around the icecream on an icecream cone, I could lap more and more of the salty, skin-covered head of his love wurst, laving it lovingly with my dick-tickling tongue. Still holding my head firmly in his hands, he moved his hips so that just the head of his cock was fucking in and out of my mouth, skinning back the foreskin of his dipstick against my lips as he shoved it in, and replacing the fleshy cowl over the naked head with my lips as he withdrew. Each time it was in my mouth, I could swish my tongue rapidly around the naked, blood-engorged head of his mating tool several times before it retreated to my lips and all I could reach with my tongue were the pouty little vertical lips of his piss slit, hiding in the loose folds of his foreskin like the pistil of a flower, rewarding me, like a busy little bee, with the sweet nectar of his viscous honey-like precoital fluid.
Then, pulling back the sausage skin from his love wurst cock with the finger tips of one hand (they smelled like cigarettes as they passed under my nose) he stretched his black foreskin back along the shaft of his cock and plunged the bloated head of his ramrod deeply into my cunt-throat, quickly withdrawing it, only to immediately plunge it deeply again, and again. This brutal assult on my epiglottus made me gag, and, when I did, he gave me a real cram-course on cock sucking. He took advantage of the fact that my cunt-throat was wide open and rammed his rampaging battering ram deep into my open gullet, where, involuntarily I swallowed hard to keep from wretching, and, in about three seconds flat, I learned to hold my breath, open my throat and allow him to plunge the full length of his meaty fuck-rod deep into my throat like a sword swallower in a circus performing for an appreciative crowd. I know that his teaching me to deep-throat cock this way was like throwing a child off the end of a pier to teach him to swim, but it worked. I was now massaging the meaty head of his mating tool with the muscles of my throat, anticipating his motions so that I could control my breathing to synchronize the motions of my throat and mouth to the rhythm of his fucking.
My mastery of this technique seemed to please him because he moaned, "YYYYEEEEHHHH, man, take all uh dat big Motherfuckin' black dick.... Take it!" he grunted as he savagely held my head and ruthlessly plunged that immense hot sword of black flesh into my cunt-throat all the way to the hilt, so that his rough pubic hair scratched my nose as it bumped against his belly and his billiard-sized balls played batball with my chin. He continued to delight in my new-found skills, ravaging my cunt-throat with his maurading manmeat, pausing with it all the way in my throat, as he massaged my throat, feeling his pounding lust-shaft swell my neck as he plunged it mercilessly into my willingly receptive thoat, opened eagerly to receive him.
He had taught me subverbally, without a word of instruction between us, to pay the tune he wanted me to playt on his skinflute, to be a willingly receptive truckhawk recepticle for his black trucker manmeat, he took advantage of my proficiency. He allowed himself to sink to the level of an animal, fucking like a dog, automatically, with no thought of masterful technique, with no thought of anything in his mind except dumping his overloaded balls into my eagerly-awaiting cunt-throat. Now he fucked my throat frantically like a maniac possessed by a demon driving his libido at a breakneck pace like a drag racer speeding toward the finish line, accelerating faster and faster until, "UUUUGGGGHHHH," I heard him moan as his reflexes took over, he plunged his bursting cock deeply into my throat, as his hands held my head impaled on his lovespear, and his spastic prostate propelled pulse after pulse of his black, baby-loaded semen deep into my eagerly awaiting gullet.
"Whew! That was wild, man," I said.
"Yeh! Y' sure did pleasure m' Johnson," he said, as he stuffed his mammoth, black, still-bloated Johnson, back into his Levis, zipped up his fly and headed back to his New York bound truckload of watermelons, his balls relieved of their unwelcome burden of unwanted semen. Even though he had brilliantly initiated me into the Fraturnity of Truckhawks, we parted without even exchanging names, secure in the anonymity of casual sex, that before AIDS, was enjoyed by truckers and truckhawks alike.
专猎卡车司机的基佬
作者：John E. Smith
"专猎卡车司机的基佬"，指的是那些对卡车司机发情的男同性恋，尤其是那些开横跨大陆的巨型十八轮货柜重卡的司机，就是那种在州际高速上从我们旁边轰鸣着飞驰而过的大家伙。就像有些基佬专迷水手、海军陆战队、摩托帮、牛仔、消防员，或者我猜随便什么一眼就能认出来的、带着刻板印象的职业圈子（我甚至有个信罗马天主教的朋友，专攻新教牧师），一个"卡车猎手"专攻的就是卡车司机。不知怎么的，勾着这些卡车猎手的那个迷思就是：卡车司机都是硬桥硬马真刀真枪操人的主儿，蹬着西部牛仔靴，爱听乡村音乐，是旷野公路上的骑士；他们常常一离家就是好长一阵子，没有老婆或者女朋友来给他们正常的性发泄，所以永远都憋着一股子骚劲——也许是因为他们那前列腺，被硬邦邦弹个不停的车座子一直咚咚咚地猛颠，所以他们就有了一股压都压不住的、要命的瘾头，不管在哪儿，逮着机会就得把那股性饥渴泄掉，哪怕是在休息区的厕所里、卡车停靠站的男厕所里，或者好多司机在他们驾驶室后头都有的那个挺方便的小铺位上，让一个基佬那贪巴巴的嘴或屁股来伺候。
我可以挺有底气地跟你们讲，这卡车司机的迷思，有一部分是真事。我就是个卡车司机，我他妈就永远是骚着的。在路上跑的时候，我一天能泄三四回，完了靠在我这彼得比尔特大卡车的驾驶室里，顺着公路一颠一颠地跑着，照样还能攒起一股能把人逼疯的性火。
而且，也就是这股子骚劲，把我拽进了专猎卡车司机的基佬大军里。就跟有些上了年纪的卡车猎手常说的那样："今年的'货'，就是明年的'对手'。" 这话还真叫他们说中了。我刚起头那会儿，也就是像卡车司机们嘴里说的，"拿我的屌喂喂那些兔儿爷"，在州际公路边上那些休息区的厕所里，让那些基佬哥们儿给我嘬嘬屌。
我想找人给我嘬屌，从来就没费过什么事，因为人家跟我说，我是个挺帅的卡车司机。我现在三十五六了，可比这早十年我刚开始那阵，我才二十五六，一米九一，一身腱子肉，二百二十斤，体格练得挺像样，因为我高中那会儿玩橄榄球还练摔跤；到如今我也没把身子撂下，只要逮着空，就去健身房练练。我两条胳膊上有几处纹身，下头那根鸡巴，九寸长，没割包皮。人家跟我说我长得帅，是那种粗犷爷们儿的帅法，我还蓄着两撇又浓又黑的八字胡，就跟《夏威夷神探》里那个汤姆·塞立克似的。反正，甭管白天夜里什么时候，我想找张肯给我嘬屌的嘴，从来就没费过劲。
到后来，日子长了，在那些乡下休息区敞着口的小便槽跟前，我开始留意起别的卡车司机的那几根鸡巴来。我心里开始琢磨，要是我跪到另一个卡车司机的裤裆跟前，把他的鸡巴掏出来含进嘴里嘬，像那些给我嘬过屌的基佬伺候我一样，也伺候他一回，那到底是个什么滋味。我开始琢磨，把自己的这些性瘾头，全压在去伺候另一个男人上，到底是个什么感觉。
我头一回试这事的那天，我永远也忘不了。那是夜里，在南卡罗来纳州一个休息区里，我正对着那种敞口小便槽撒尿，这时候进来一个长得又帅又壮的黑人卡车司机——后来我才知道，他正拉着一车西瓜上纽约市去。这个乡下地方的茅房里头，连盏电灯都没有。黑漆漆的，可头顶上一轮透亮溜圆的大月亮，透过窗户渗进来的光，倒足够让我把这黑人卡车司机掏出那根我这辈子见过的头一号最大、最粗、没割包皮的黑乎乎卡车司机爷们儿肉的架势，看个清清楚楚。他撒的那泡尿，跟马尿似的又猛又冲，时间还他妈老长，跟小孩儿似的，对着小便槽底下那点玩意儿滋来滋去地玩，把它们往泄水口那儿冲。他把最后那几下抽搐出来的尿点子撒干净，攥着他那根黑乎乎的大消防水管子，来回捋了好几把。他捋的时候，我就眼看着那条黑蛇在他身子前头至少抻出去有一尺来长，这就是他那根鸡巴硬起来以后，能有多大的一根活招牌。
跟着，我就看见他的手一下一下、带着节奏，开始慢悠悠地捋他那根黑炭大肉棍子了。我们那会儿在部队里老说的一句话，"你要是连着甩它超过两下，那你可就是在拿它玩了。" 这事是没跑的了——那个块头唬人的黑壮汉，正直勾勾地盯着我，手里玩着他那根鸡巴，两人一个字没说，全凭他那双眼，明明白白递过来一道闷在嗓子眼底下的话：他想让我给他嘬嘬那根他妈的大黑家伙。
我豁出去了。我走到他站的那个小便槽跟前——就算我这么高的个儿，他往我边上一杵，还是比我高出一大截来。他侧过身来对着我，半朝着便槽，手里还一下下捋着那块正在一分一秒越胀越大的、黑乎乎卡车司机鸡巴肉。就在那一刻，我心里才定下来：我这人，大概生来就该是干"卡车猎手"这差事的料，因为我是心甘情愿地跪下去的，手指头捻着那李维斯牌牛仔裤的"圣坛布"。他高得实在吓人，等我跪下去，我这嘴才刚刚够到那"圣坛"前头献上来的"圣餐杯"的高度。我把那圣杯捧在手里，轻轻把那层盖着的"餐巾"剥开，把那圣器送到唇边，咂摸起这根黑乎乎的卡车司机没割包皮的鸡巴上的那股麝香味——这东西，在公路上一连跑了好几天没洗过澡——咂摸起来，简直像尝着了受过三遍恩福的圣餐酒。他的鸡巴越硬越胀，我就拿舌头舔、嘴唇嘬、牙轻轻啃，把他包皮底下、藏在龟头冠后头攒的那些包皮垢，全给弄了下来，那气味我咂摸起来，简直当它是一块稀罕的林堡芝士。
等我把这根鸡巴拿舌头做的这场"洗礼"弄利索，那东西也就完全硬透了，胀到了它那副骇人的尺寸，我这才把它含进嘴里。当然，我头一回尝这事的时候，艾滋还没出现，那会儿嘬屌还算安全，犯不上怕染上什么要命的脏病。到如今这世道，我可是再也不会干这种不安全的野苟且了。就算我嫌橡胶那股子味难闻，倒也寻着了几种薄荷味的套子，尝起来不算太赖；可眼前这匹黑檀木大种马，那得给他配个专给大象用的黑套子，顶好还得是甘草味的，把它弄成根值得上《吉尼斯世界纪录》的甘草糖，一根实打实能吃一整天的大棒棒糖。
我拼命把那根胀得跟什么似的黑乎乎"人种制造机"往嘴里吞，能吞多深吞多深，可等那颗龟头刚顶到我喉头上、才勉强含进嘴里，我心里就开始犯嘀咕了——您别见怪我这词儿——我这算不算"贪多嚼不烂"了。兴许，拿根尺寸更合常人的情爱棒槌来给我这张处男的嘴开苞，能更聪明点。兴许，我这头一回童子军远足，就惦着去爬珠穆朗玛峰，是有点太不知天高地厚了。这些个跟自己犯怵的念头，在我脑仁儿里嗖嗖乱转，心里盘算着是不是趁早缩回去得了——我琢磨着，别的人碰上这么根金刚巨棒，八成也是这么退的。可另一边呢，这个卡车司机点着的我这股子性奋劲儿，也把我那些胆小念头给压下来了——这股子性奋劲儿，烈到能让我头一件事就是心甘情愿跪在他这张帝王气派的尊容底下，好像他还真是个非洲的国王，能坐上那王座，全仗着胯底下吊着的这根肉权杖，这根最原始的权力象征。这气派，才配得上要我的处男身，因为换一根哪怕再小一点点的屌，就算学起这行来能省力些，也绝没有眼前这个黑人大帝王卡车司机的尤物这么震人、这么华美——只有这样的人物，才能让我豁出脸去、不知羞臊地伺候他，才能让我心甘情愿把自己的身子交给他、由着他泄他那肉欲，才能让我甘愿把我这副小我的体面，全献祭在他那本我的圣坛上。
他那沉厚厚的低音嗓门，撞在厕所生硬的瓷砖墙上嗡嗡响，听着就像保罗·罗伯逊演《奥赛罗》里那黑人摩尔人的那副帝王气派，把我从心里这点穷琢磨里晃回了神。
"嘿，嘬屌的，你这他娘的不是头一回干吧？赶紧给老子伺候这根黑家伙，老子没那么多闲工夫跟你耗。老子还他妈得趁天亮之前，把这黑屁股给我挪到华盛顿去。"
他准是觉出来我还没怎么经过阵仗，因为除了像刚才那样，试探我到底有多少斤两，他就开始更拿事、更主动地张罗起我俩这桩活计来。他拿他那一对汉普夏大火腿似的巴掌，开始跟我做起爱来，把我浑身给揉得松快了，这么着，我就能把他伺候得更地道；他的手也开始引着我脑袋一下一下地动。他拿两只手摩挲着我的脸和脑袋，手指头恋恋地来回拨弄着我那一头卷曲的棕发——这头发，跟他自己头上那层剃得贴着头皮的卷曲黑毛茬，还有那条"情爱黑棍"根部配着的那把活像钢丝清洁球、又扎又硬的"爱情丛林"，真是天差地别。他那根"黑森森的屌"，活脱脱就像荷兰的黑郁金香，春天里绕着埃菲尔铁塔脚下一蓬蓬地绽开，祭着生养的神力，熬过一整个又长又冷的冬天，等着万物回春。
他拿指尖搔着我的耳朵、脸蛋和脖子，一下下地，把我搔得浑身一阵阵发冷，身上头那股子狂热的骚劲，腾地一下就点着了——我打定了主意，为了叫这个块头唬人的黑人卡车司机舒坦了，我就是他这云雨学校里一名"速成填鸭"的小徒弟，我得把我这一辈子挨过的那些要了命的嘬屌，全在脑子里过一遍，再把那些嘬屌的货伺候我那些性瘾头时、使得那么老练的法子，全都拿过来试一遍。
跟着，他拿一只手垫在我脑袋后头，把我含在嘴里的鸡巴抽了出去，拿另一只手捏着，把那还裹着我唾沫星子、皱巴巴的包皮尖，沿着我嘴唇和脸来回蹭。我拼命想拿嘴追着他龟头跑，好把他那根鸡巴再吞回嘴里去，可他比我快得多。他那根鸡巴老是快了那么一丁点闪在我前头，挑逗我，激我追上去咬住他那根情爱大棒槌上那鼻涕兮兮的头——那东西拖着一道道黏答答的印子留在我脸上，活脱一窝发了情的蜗牛在比赛往蜗牛淫窝那儿赶，一路淌出来的交配前的黏水儿。
接下来，他两只手捧住我脑袋，把我的头定住，叫他那只瞎了眼的独眼巨人，跟尤金·奥曼迪挥着指挥棒指挥费城交响乐团奏柴可夫斯基的《一八一二序曲》似的，在我脸前忽悠忽悠地上下晃荡，我堪堪儿只够在那东西晃过我舌尖的当口，拿舌尖若即若离地撩拨他包皮尖上那皱起来的小嘴。他拿胯骨一点一点地朝我越凑越近，这么一来，就像一条狗伸舌头兜卷冰淇淋筒上的冰淇淋似的，我就能越来越有滋味地、更多地舔着他那咸津津、裹着皮的龟头——他那情爱肉肠的头，拿我这根晃来晃去挑逗鸡巴的舌头，贪馋地淋上一遍。他还是两手死死箍着我的头，晃着他那根胯骨，就叫单单他那根龟头，在我嘴里头一进一出地操着，往里插的时候把我嘴唇绷满了、借着我那两片嘴把他那量油尺的包皮往下褪，往外抽的时候，又借着我这两片嘴，把他那层肉帽兜，重新套回光溜溜的龟头上去。每回那东西进了我嘴里，我就能拿舌头趁着这几下子功夫，绕着他那根胀满了血、光溜溜的交配家什的龟头飞快地舔上好几圈，直到它又退回到我嘴唇边上，我舌头能捞着的，就只剩下他那道撇着两片竖嘴唇似的尿缝，藏在他那皱巴巴的包皮褶子里，像朵花里头的花蕊，叫我这只忙忙活活的小蜜蜂，得着他那甜丝丝黏糊糊的花蜜——他那黏得跟蜜似的、交配前淌出来的汁水，就是赏给我的甜头。
跟着，他拿一只手（那几根手指头从我鼻子底下过的时候，一股子纸烟的味）的指尖把他那情爱肉肠的香肠皮朝后退，把他那层黑包皮沿着他鸡巴茎身往后扯，把他那根攻城槌上胀鼓鼓的龟头，猛地一下齐根捅进我这屄嘴里，又飞飞快地抽出去，紧跟着再往里狠狠捅，一遍又一遍。这通冲着我喉头的野蛮冲撞，把我弄得直干呕，到我这一干呕，他还真给我狠狠地上了一下午的速成嘬屌课。他趁着我这张屄嘴被撑得大敞大开的当口，把他那根横冲直撞的攻城槌猛捣进我大敞着的食道管子里头，到了那当口，我也是身不由己地死命往下吞，好憋住不去呕，就这么着，也就差不多三秒的功夫，我就学会了憋着气、把嗓子眼松开，由着他把那根肉实实的操人棍子的整根长度，全深深捅进我的嗓子眼，跟马戏团里一个吞剑的，给满堂喝彩的看客表演绝活似的。我心里清楚，他拿这法子教会我怎么给鸡巴做深喉，这简直就跟把小崽儿从码头尖上扔下去，拿这法子教他游水一个路数，可是真管用了。到这会儿，我正拿我嗓子眼里头的肌肉，揉搓着他那根交配家什上肉滚滚的龟头；我还能早早预备着他的动静，这么着，就能把我嗓子眼和嘴的那一套吃进吐出的活计，调弄到跟他操人那股子节拍全合上拍。
我这点子本事算是叫他受用得很，因为他闷闷地嚎了一声："咿咿嘢嘢嘢嘢——，哥们儿，把那一整根他妈的大黑鸡巴给我全吞下去……吞了它！"他一面嘴里哼哼，一面发了狠似的箍着我脑袋，把他那根火烧火燎、骇人至极的粗黑肉剑，连剑柄一块儿，残暴地、全根没尽地狂捅进我这屄嗓子眼里，重到他那扎扎刺刺的屌毛刮在我鼻子上头，又撞在他肚子上，他那一对台球大小的卵蛋，就在我下巴颏上打起了棒球。他接着享用我刚学上手的这手绝活，拿他那根正到处烧杀抢掠的爷们儿肉，糟蹋着我这屄嗓子眼，把那东西一竿子全捅在我嗓子眼里，就那么停着，拿它揉我的嗓子眼，一面觉着他那根狂捣着的淫欲肉棒子，插在我脖子里，把皮肉给撑胀了起来——他就这么毫不留情地把他那根东西往我里面捅，捅进我这心甘情愿、敞得大开、急巴巴接着他的这口嗓子眼里。
他一个字也没说，就这么凭着一股闷在嗓子眼底下、用不着动嘴皮子的法子，把我给调教了出来——教明白了他想让我在他这根人皮笛子上，吹出哪支曲子来，让我成了一个心甘情愿、把他这黑人卡车司机的黑檀木男人肉接进来的小车斗子。这一下，我这刚练出点门道的本事，可全叫他给占了去。他由着自己往下出溜，退成了一头畜生，跟条狗似的操着，自己也不多想，不用脑子，全凭身上那股子本能，心里头什么也不惦着，就一门心思把他那对攒得快爆了的卵蛋，往我这正急巴巴等着的屄嗓子眼里卸。眼下，他操我嗓子眼这个操法，简直跟发了疯魔似的，像是叫个邪鬼给上了身，撵着他在那股子性欲的驱策下拼了命地赶，活像个飙车手豁出命往终点线冲，油门越轰越快，越轰越快，一直轰到——"呃呃呃呃呃呃呃——"，我听见他低吼了一声，他浑身的本能上了位，他把他那根快要炸开了的鸡巴，死命地、深深地往我嗓子眼里一捣，两只手箍着我脑袋，把我钉死在他那根情爱肉矛上，他那一抽一抽的前列腺，就把他那黑人爷们儿的、灌满了小崽儿的一股接一股滚烫浓精，全泵进了我早早就张得大开、巴巴等着的食道管子里。
"呼——！真他妈野，哥们儿。"我说。
"是了！你伺候老子这根屌，是真伺候美了，"他一边说着，一边把他那根巨型的、黑乎乎、还胀鼓鼓的大家伙，塞回他的李维斯牛仔裤里，拉上裤裆拉链，掉头就往他那辆往纽约去的、载满西瓜的卡车走回去——他那对卵蛋，算是把他那些不招人待见、憋了老久的精液的累赘，给卸干净了。就算他这么出彩地给我来了场入门礼，把我拽进了"卡车猎手"这帮子兄弟伙里头，我俩连名字都没跟对方报，平平常常就这么分道扬镳了，安安心心地待在那萍水相逢、提起裤子就散的一场野炮里——在艾滋还没冒出来的年月，这档子事，卡车司机也好，专猎卡车司机的基佬也好，都一样受用。