"Nebraska Ginger"
Part of the Trucker Bear series

Grizzly eastward across down US-30 with the last orange of a Nebraska sunset behind him. Heat held to the glass. Corn ran to the horizon like a sea of golden stalks. He had been looking for a place to eat since Grand Island and had promised himself he would not settle for a limp fast food sandwich. He wanted bread that did not taste like cardboard and a counter where a man could sit and feel the floor under his boots.

He saw the diner by the silosa small roadside diner nestled between the fields. Trucks sat nose to nose like beasts at a trough. He cut the engine, listened to the metal tick, and rolled his shoulders until the tightness let go. A bell on a string announced him when he opened the door. Grease, coffee, and the sweet note of a pie case pushed back against the smell of the road.

A 20-something drifter sat at the bar with a glass of Coke between his hands. He was a cute ginger with pale freckles across the bridge of his nose and hair that needed a comb. He looked like he had not seen a shower since Monday. An oversized black T-shirt hung loose on his frame making his neck look extra thin. He stared into the glass as if it might answer his questions. Grizzly took the stool a seat away and set his keys on the counter.

The waitress slid a laminated menu under his hand. He ordered the hot beef sandwich and iced tea. The ginger glanced at him, then back at the mug. Grizzly cleared his throat and let the room quiet inside his head before he spoke up.

“You riding the highway or waiting on it?”

“Trying to go east,” the drifter said. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had not used it much this week. “I got as far as Kearney. Then I lost my ride.”

Grizzly smiled because he understood. “I am hauling corn to Illinois. I take a break after midnight, a man sits better when the air cools.”

The ginger nodded. He did not smile, but his shoulders loosened. “I could ride... If you are headed that way.”

“I might be...”

They ate silence for a minute. The plate came heavy with a massive pile of roast beef overflowing the warm sandwich bread. The diner hummed with the sounds of the few nighttime regulars slowly savoring their meals in silence. Grizzly ate with slowly as well, giving sideways glances towards the anonymous ginger. The drifter drank the last of his soda and set the glass down carefully, his eyes catching the bearded trucker as he finished his meal. He tapped his finger on counter.

“So how about that ride?”

Grizzly smirked and finished chewing the last bite of food, taking his time before swallowing. “I can take you as far as Des Moines.”

The drifter smiled, “Well thanks Sir, you’ve just made my day.”

The bear smiled, “and you’re about to make my night… What’s your name?”

“Sean,” the ginger replied, returning the smile, moving over to the stool next to Grizzly. The older man rolled his eyes and called the server over, asking for the check.

They paid and stepped out to the gravel. The lot smelled like hot tires and spilled diesel. Stars made a thin show through the last of the light. The highway sighed at the edge of the property as if it knew every story that had ever crossed it. Grizzly walked the length of the Mack with a hand to metal. He checked the straps and tailgate. The ginger walked beside him and waited by the cab.

On the road the cab took on the soft quiet that usually comes after a meal. The radio muttered about storms somewhere far West. The ginger watched the green glowing needles on the dash slowly ticking . Grizzly kept his hands easy on the wheel and let the truck find the sweet spot between load and speed.

They talked about places neither loved enough to call home. Grizzly mentioned that he was born near Pittsburgh, in the Allegheny foothills. Sean said he had been resting on couches and in county parks since August.

“Hunger sharpens a men for a while, but not for long,” Sean said, closing his eyes and leaning back, exposing his lean hips.

Grizzly talked about the purchase price of grain and how it could make a town kind or mean. He let the talk turn to trucks and clutches and gears because that seemed more interesting to his passenger.

They pulled into the dark sliver behind a closed weigh station when midnight came. The stars had pushed through. Grizzly turned off the lights and let his eyes open to the night. The drifter looked at him and did not look away.

Grizzly set a hand on the gearshift between them, palm up like an open offer. Freckled fingers found his. Heat rose and settled. A truck rolled by in the far lane and the sound passed over them like a wave that never broke. They leaned close and their lips met for the first time. The glass fogged a little and cleared as they embraced.

First Grizzly ran his hand up Sean’s shirt, his weathered hands greedily grabbing the ginger’s smooth skin. Sean held still as he was felt up by the large man, sighing softly and lifting his arms as he felt Grizz lift it above his head to expose his naked torso. The bear leaned in to kiss his nipples, one at a time, gingerly. Then he sniffed the armpits to take in the full scent of the drifter who had missed a couple showers.

“Fuck yeah,” he growled as he inhaled the musk, his boner growing and pressing against his jeans.

Sean instinctively reached over and rubbed the trucker’s crotch. He felt the pulsing bulge of a real man’s cock pushing the boundaries of the containing denim. As he felt Grizzly kiss his ear he heard the order, given sternly but with a soft voice: “Take it out.”

Responding immediately the ginger delicately pulled the zipper down, inch-by-inch, until the cotton of Grizzly’s boxers were fully exposed. The big brass belt buckle was unhooked, and the weight of the hefty buckle and thick steerhide belt dragged the jeans down enough so his thin hand could slip in and release the older man’s cock.

“It’s so thick,” he responded, curiously rubbing it as it pumped and pulsed in his palm.

“Think you can take it?”

Sean gulped. “Take it… where?”

“The back of your throat will do nicely…” the bear growled and put his left hand behind the ginger’s head and pulled him forward to his crotch, beckoning him to the fully hard member in his palm. Sean bit his lip and closed his eyes, opening his mouth as wide as he could as he felt the smell of the gnarly man hit his nostrils. Before he had time to think he tasted Grizzly’s cock as he pushed past the tip of his tongue and entered his mouth.

Feeling the lips of the drifter wrap around his cock the longhorn bear groaned in carnal pleasure. As he went deeper into the hitchhiker’s mouth he smiled and put both hands behind his head, pushing his groin forward so he could get deep.

There was some gagging as the inexperienced cocksucker be acclimated with the thick dick. Grizzly was patient, letting the frail drifter slowly get accustomed to servicing his first big bear cock. Soon he reached his goal and was balls deep into the facehole of his new toy. The thoat walls of the ginger collapsed around his shaft and begin to massage his member. Pent up from days on the road the trucker knew that his first orgasm would come quickly and allowed it to happen so—it was still very early in the night.

Sean was overcome, catching his breath as he felt his forehead being pressed against the belly fat of the big man. He suddenly found his throat stuffed as Grizzly howled in delight, holding him down like fuckmeat as he released his cum. The poor ginger teared up as he felt thick hot splashes of seed soak into the walls of his throat, dripping down into his chest as he was compelled to hold his breath until his ride finished using him for release.

The horizon lifted a dull gray by the time they moved again. Corn turned silver, then gold. They rode the last miles toward morning without music. A flock of blackbirds swung from the fence to the wire and back, their weight making the line bow. They pulled into a truck stop on the edge of Des Moines. Grizzly slid the Mack Super Liner in between two reefers and cut the engine.

They sat without speaking for a moment. Sean’s mouth found a brief smile He opened the door and climbed down to the gravel. He stretched and winced at the tightness in his back; looking up at the cab again he nodded to Grizzly like a man closing a deal.

He walked toward the bus stop as the sun crested above the street. The light caught the edges of his hair and made it a copper halo for half a second. The morning felt clean and new. Grizzly watched the ginger’s back until another truck cut the line of sight. Then he turned the key, the brass fob tapped against the steering column, and the engine breathed and Grizzly put the rig into gear. As the sun rose and the road asked him for more.

Join us next time for "Chicago Stallion", cumming soon...

Other trucker bear stories:
Chicago Stallion: https://onlyfans.com/1995041773/thegrizzlyden