"THE TALE OF THE GREEN SWAMP RAT"

Funny how you can wander all over the rest areas and truck stops looking, and never find anything. Today I was 12 miles down a logging road in the middle of the Green Swamp west of here. Stopped to take a leak where the road ended at a loop, the end of the line, you might say. So quiet – the sound of my zipper opening nearly startled me, as if I could foresee some energy that would interrupt the silence and alter the surrounding landscape. Strange thing about anticipation, you still have to wait and see what happens. As the song goes, you never can tell.

And I was right.

Next sound I hear is an engine- a big noisy one. Around the curve comes an old 1979 long-nose KW hauling a log trailer and log loader. It stopped. The driver, leaning out said he was on the wrong road. But I sensed there was another problem.

He wasn’t the least bit shy about stating his situation. Nor concerned l was standing on a dead end road with my dick in my hands.

“Ain’t always the way? Lost and a full bladder…shit!”

“ Guess I gotta go when I gotta go,” he added, swinging wide the door of his cab. “No time to be shy,” – a low, guttural growl.

He got out to pee and the next thing you knew ---

Tall, lean, mean so far from handsome, he was on the backside of ugly and hairier than Mighty Joe Young. His neck was less covered with down as immersed in thick dark fur that seemed more canine than human. You could almost braid the hair on his arms - and hands, which were as thick as mounds of beef. Eyebrows joined with yet more fur.

“Beware the man whose eyebrows meet,” I thought, remembering an old wives’ tale, “for he may be a wolf on two legs upright and clothed to hide his hairiness on the inside.” Yes, he was clothed and I took inventory.

First- work boots, worn, doubled-tied. Next long thick legs (I imagined them to be as hairy as the rest of him) encased in oil-stained jeans of threadbare denim, unmistakable patches of cigarette ash further discoloring what blue had been bleached out a long, long time ago. Longer still was the imprint of what I thought to be his cock, until he shifted his weight when reaching the ground. Loose denim sagged around his crotch. All I had to go on was my imagination. Fantasy, as powerful an instrument as I presumed his to be. Brown, nearly black (read fur), muscular arms that were veined as tree limbs, pushed out of the missing arms of the denim jacket. I thought of a wild beast chewing off limbs to escape jagged teeth of steel traps.

He headed towards me, eyes squinting in bright sun. I felt heat on the back of my neck and dampness on my forehead. I was still holding my dick, which was still releasing a steady flow. If he was looking at my cock, I couldn’t tell. After a slight nod, I looked away towards the sun, which was cooler than the heat of his approach-

Measured and determined: a man on a mission. I thought of Richard Locke and felt a drop of moisture slide down my chest. From the moment his rig stopped to now, I had not uttered two words. The stillness that preceded his arrival had returned, but only momentarily. The slow, seductive downward slide of his zipper tore through the silence. Next the air was filled with the warm stream of urine hitting the hot ground and I was immersed in clouds of steam. His scent filled my nostrils; the hair on my neck rose and my cock stiffened. Then he spoke:

"Nothin' better than takin' a piss in the warm sun...” voice trailing off as his manwater assaulted the ground.

"Yeah, you could say that." First time I had spoken and that was all I could say. Not as though I was virgin or a kid. Then why were my knees wobbly? Damn!

“Yeah buddy…nothing much better than that. Just lettin’ it all go…all that pressure buildin’ up. Ain’t that right?” He chuckled. “Don’t mind me, I just say what comes to mind.” Yawning, mouth open wide, he leaned back. From the corner of my eyes, I could see his stream rise curved, glistening in the sun.

Swallowing, I spoke: “Some load you been carrying.”

“Seems we both have,” he chuckled again. “Could say more. Ain’t sure you’d appreciate it.”

I felt his eyes on me. Over my shoulder I looked into brown eyes flecked with green that bore right into mine. Then he smiled; thick lips open revealing large teeth-

All the better to eat you with- and the barely visible pink of his tongue grazing his bottom lip. My cock jerked upwards spraying into the air the last of my water, catching the sun’s rays as droplets fell to the ground. Now or never, I thought, go for it. I turned full around to face him: "I'm not easily shocked. Why don't ya try me?"

We were face to face. Without lowering his eyes, he shook the remaining fluid from his dick, now thick and rising, the foreskin sliding back from the mushroom knob shiny with wetness, a droplet of piss sliding down the shaft.

"Better still, why dontcha try this?" His voice low, breathy. Chest rising heavily underneath the denim jacket nearly soaked with sweat, the consequence of all that fur, heat and hunger.

"Did I shock ya? "

"No." Direct. Eye to eye. Man to man. I was proud of myself. And too damn turned-on to fuck up now,

His voice lowered its pitch, deeper than before: seductive and commanding:

"Then what are ya waitin' for?"

My cock was steel and no longer wary I countered: "For you to tell me to suck your cock..."

His grin faded and his eyes flashed green. "Suck my cock!"

My eyes dark with desire held his stare. “Give me your cock,” I demanded. He undid his belt in one movement, jeans sliding down thick hairy thighs, onto the dusty earth, creating the illusion he had risen from smoke. Sweat matted his fur, sliding down his chest to the dark mass surrounding his crotch. Cock, thickly veined raised upwards, below which hung two huge orbs, pendulous and woolly. Brows narrowed into one and nostrils flared wet with perspiration. Any moment now he would paw the ground.

"Now, suck my cock!” he panted.

Take a moment now and realize the irony. A truck hawk is usually the aggressor, the predator, quite different from this situation. I thought this as I approached him and wondered how he happened to be on this dead-end road I accidentally wandered upon. I took a glance over his shoulder and saw his trailer carried no cargo. Here we were, twelve miles from the state highway...could I be this lucky or was I the prey?

Standing in front of him, I reached for his cock… when he quickly grasped my dick, one big hand wrapped tightly around the base forcing a grunt out of my parting lips while the other grabbed my right pec, squeezing, then pulling the ring in my hardening nipple. Back arched, my hips thrusting forward, a louder groan escaped from my chest. The bright sun forced my eyes to close.

His next move shocked them wide-open. Without invitation warm lips surrounded my throbbing cock head, his tongue slid down the vein of my heated shaft. A quick nibble of my foreskin, then pulling it up, he released my dick, pulled my chest towards him and thrust his hard thick tongue down my throat.

I choked for lack of air. Pulling my head away from his lips, he pushed my head down and his cock up into my mouth. Slowly he guided me to my knees, his dick throbbing but not thrusting...yet. On my knees, he moved my head back and forth over his cock that thickened, became harder and longer. Leaning over, he licked my forehead, leaving heavy trails of saliva that ran down over my eyes. Thick coarse beard brushed against the bridge of my nose. His breathing heavy and short, then exhaling in hoarse pants- I thought he was ready to unload...but again: not yet. I started sucking, drawing, and preparing to swallow him whole when...

Suddenly he pulled away, holding my ears in each beefy paw.

"Don't suck until I tell ya to. Understood?"

Struck by his intensity, I was silent. As I started to lower my head, he raised it up and back, his face so close I breathed in the heat of his breath. Sweat dripped from his close-cropped hair, down his forehead onto his face. His lips were flecked with spittle. Closer still, my mouth was again opened with his tongue, then mine in his mouth as he swallowed deep. Just as quickly he released it. His hands still held my ears, his eyes burning into mine.

“Do you understand what I just tol’ ya?

I could only nod my head, feverish with desire.

“I wanna hear you say it!”

“I—I- understand…I won’t until you tell me to.”

He held me tighter and closer to his face. His tongue swabbed my forehead and face, already wet, then released me.

I nearly fell over backwards. Reaching out for balance, I realized he wasn’t there.

But not far away. Eyes tearing from his intensity, blinked to clear my vision. Through the haze, I saw him step out of his boots, kick away his jeans and toss away the denim jacket. As I tried to shake off the fog, catch my breath and regain my balance, he returned as suddenly as he had left. Standing over me, holding his cock, rock hard, he seemed to be waiting, taking in the scene. A man with mission, he leaned over me again, one hand lifting my chin, the other pushing back my head as he lowered himself to straddle still heaving chest. His furry ass was hot as it grazed my belly. Freeing one hand, he reached back and swatted my stiff dick, pulled my balls while he lowered his cock and bangers over my face. His free hand again thrust back my head as his cock touched my lips.

"Keep yer mouth closed. I'll tell ya when to open up."

He swung his cock over my lips, slowly back and forth, then placed his balls over them, wet, woolly hairs grazing my chin. Again his voice was low: "Lick 'em. Yer tongue...not yer mouth."

The scent of his crotch sweat was powerful, pungent not fetid - a workingman's sweat mixed with remnants of a morning's shower. The taste, salty and sweet, causing drools to run down the side of my face, creating an urge to open wide and swallow both balls- but I resisted.

I would do as I was told.

Funny idea to resist an impulse. Ironic as I was resisting very little. The driver had me completely in his thrall. Take a moment to give this some thought.

I did, all the while fighting to urge to take all I could of him in my mouth, throat, ready, willing and able- all the while following his lead, but resisting urges to surrender to his cock. So I surrendered to his will. This scene was no ordinary hawk blowjob. This man wanted more from me, needed something beyond getting off. Not once did he command me to call him “Sir”. Not once did he call me “boy”. Something to think about- later. Much later. There was much too much happening in the ‘now’.

His cock was sweet in its sliding motions, hovering over my lips; his balls, woolly, wet and warm brushing against my chin, cheeks, then downward pulsing against my neck and chest. I sensed he was carrying a heavy load but in no need to discharge, complete the act. Maybe he knew his movements increased my desire, drove my arousal to a realm closer to passion than consummation. Its anticipation heightens the senses, not the finish. The race, not crossing the finish line: when the line is crossed, the race is over. Everything else becomes anti-climatic.

As if reading my thoughts, he spat on his cock as it slid over my face. I know that if someone I hooked up with, told me he wanted to spit on me, I would more than likely tell him to fuck off. This man was taking me places I never knew I wanted to visit…and yet, nothing he did was a violation. Every thrust of his cock was countered with deep, wet kisses, rough and almost an assault. Man to man sex is an anomaly. Beyond masochism and dominance. Too easy to say ‘I like it rough’, more like: give me more, ‘cos I can take it.

He was hairy. He smelled from hours OTR on a swampy humid day. But when he gave me his ass to lick, chew and enjoy, I was as close to heaven as I’d ever thought I’d be. Acrid, musty and still residues of the last shower. Did he enjoy my tongue worship? Guttural, bestial moans and growls shocked the stillness of this desolate, barren landscape. I bit, chewed, groaned- he howled in response and still his cock had not entered my mouth or invaded my throat. He pulled my nipples, twisted till tears filled my eyes- I would not give into pain. All the while, his hairy ass, occasionally grazing my rod, followed by a soulful moan, a growl, or tongue thrust so deeply in my mouth, I thought might choke with desire.

Then he changed position, face in my crotch, and began licking, then chewing my navel. His tongue playful around my shaft, a quick nip to my skin, then down my shaft and full face into my balls. Slowly his tongue moved towards my ass, licking my prostate. Alert to my moans and the sweet moisture that dripped from my mouth, he looked over shoulder and said: “Just your tongue. When I want your mouth, I’ll tell ya.”

“I know,” I moaned. Urgency became a non-issue. Isn’t this what I had always thought sex was. Time was irrelevant. I remember thinking that sex should be timeless, mindless, endless- a continuum – eternity. What else is there? Food satiates, drugs heighten but the continuum of sex is eternal. Expectation and anticipation is the key-

Who would have thought that on a dead-end road I would find someone who seemed to understand that sex is all animal instinct and part of our genetic code? Food and sex, sex and food are the common denominators of existence. And I was having my fill, the lion’s share, you might say or bear’s share would be more exact.

And bear-like he lapped at my ass like a desert nomad finding a waterhole after days deprived of water. His beard scraped my crack as he plunged full-face deep between my cheeks, growling and slurping in total abandon. I uttered small cries, guttural moans and loudly groaned: “Eat my ass, you fucking cocksucker!” My yell fueled his frenzy and without warning he plunged his dick down my throat. I gagged, opened wide and swallowed him whole. The salty sweetness was overpowering and my balls tightened. My dick was sandwiched between us buried deep in his fur creating more intense arousal. I opened my eyes to hot sun and sweat that burned them.

He lifted my legs upward, my shoulders at angle to my boots. His tongue slid away from my ass towards my thighs, wetting them with saliva. One powerful arm held me, while the free hand undid the boots, tossing away each away in turn. His cock slid out of my mouth, he yanked away my jeans, my ass scraping the ground.

So strong and quick, before my head nearly hit the ground, I was upside down with his face buried again in my ass, both arms wrapped around my torso. The huge dick swung against my chin as I grabbed his thighs for balance. Until now I had not realized just how big he was, and how much smaller in stature I was in comparison.

He pulled his face out of my ass and growled:

“I’m gonna lower ya down. Don’t hit your head, I wantcha in one piece”

Like a gymnast, palm out I touched earth as he backed away, lowering my knees to the ground. Then standing, he seemed to take in my crouched position. My head was lowered as sweat poured onto the ground. For several moments the only sounds were our breathing, inhaling dusty air and exhaling heat.

“Take off yer shirt,” was all he said.

The soaked material clung to my flesh, but I managed. He pounced upon my back and bit into my neck. What sweet pain! He held my skin in teeth, and then slowly eased his hold, exhaling a low growl. Lapping my neck, his saliva ran down my back. He spat on the marks left and with powerful thumbs pressed into my flesh. My head jerked upward as I cried out. That steeled cock dived between my cheeks and plunged into my ass, pushing past the tightness, not stopping until I felt his bull balls bang my prostate. Once he was inside, I backed down on that monster and he was deep within me.

I learned a long time ago, after several painful entries, not so much to relax, but to bear down on cock when being penetrated. The pain is only momentary, a challenge and the rewards immeasurable. The best defense is offense. Your ass isn’t being penetrated, it’s swallowing cock. I sucked him up inside me and he yelled: “Fuck me, man!”

He buried his head in neck, biting my ears, deep groans and throaty growls.

Then I fucked him. Sliding upwards to his head, then bearing down the shaft, pining my ass against his groin. He locked his arms under my chest, holding me tightly against him. His heart beat hard against my back, mine felt as though it would burst from my chest and for moments neither of us moved.

Was I dreaming? How many of us have pondered the perfect fuck?

Admittedly, I had no idea until this Green Swamp trucker entered me. Suddenly I was carried to past wet dreams where some dark stranger made me moan in sleep, after which I slid from semi-consciousness to being fully awake to find he was not there; left with the memory and a feeling I knew who he was. The stranger was not nameless or faceless; I just could not remember. Like vapor, all evaporated, tenuous and the link broken. It had been only a dream after all, however intense and real.

But I was not dreaming now. I knew this. When he bit my shoulder, I felt the sting and glancing backwards, he was still there. This was real and I raised my hips to take him even deeper. His exhalation burned my neck, growl pierced my ears and thrusts caused my muscles to tighten, squeeze until he yelped in agony and once again ceased movement. This Swamp rat was panting heavily unwilling to release the mounting surge from his loins. Again we lay still, bathed in sweat.

A moist breeze passed over us and I shivered. The vibration stirred him to being slowly in and out of my throbbing hole. I spared him my formerly tight grip on his dick, allowed him to thrust freely. Swamp Rat took freedom in this, pulling nearly all the way out, the mushroom head lodged in my ass and then plunging in again full force all the way, then out. I could feel the thick foreskin sliding over his knob and down again. His cock thickened and hardened, veins pulsating and a slow flow of fluid began burning its way inside him. The base of his monster expanded even more as his groans and exhalations increased in intensity. Slow, fast, fast, again slower, then the hard push from all the way out to all the way in, pressing my face and cock into dusty earth. He yelped, growled, tightened his grip around my torso and erupted full-force but not before he screamed: “Get ready man…I’m gonna blow!” Hot fluid shot through me and my dick, now raw from contact with the dry ground, cut loose steady spurts of burning jizz mixing with parched dirt, forming an erotic adhesive that kept me glued to the surface. Swamp Rat squirmed and thrust as more cum slid out of him, my neck clamped in his teeth. His drool and sweat dripped down my back. A final thrust and he lay panting, chest heaving against my drenched skin. The grip around my torso alternately tightened, then relaxed as his cheek came to rest between my shoulder blades. His cock throbbed and I kept him inside. The breathing slowed, became steady and soothing and I drifted away… But did not doze, nor did he. We lay still as the passion eased and waited for the inevitable separation of our bodies.

He arose slowly, sliding out of me even more slowly, moved his arms from around me and pressed his open paws into my shoulders. Warm breath grazed my neck and a rough tongue lapped the back of my ears. Withdrawal complete, he rocked back to his knees and a moment later stood up. I rolled onto my back, stretched out my legs and waited for the strength to return that would enable me to get to my feet. The Swamp Rat looked down at me and said: “Been a while, has it?”

I opened my mouth to respond but instead of words I began to laugh as if insane.

I had my answer to his question. “Not how long, buddy. But how fucking good. Man, fucking good.”

Was it my imagination or did I think he blushed? His sun-weathered face was dark and lined, but I swear I saw a rosy tint flood his cheeks. Shucks, t’were’t nothing!

Suddenly now shy, he turned wordlessly, bending to retrieve his clothing scattered on the ground. I watched his down-laden back as he slapped the fresh dust from his jeans, pulling them up gingerly around his cock. When bent-over, I had seen his dick still hung heavy, foreskin not quite back over his bulging knob, balls swinging low and his ass as hairy as an ape. Buckled and the jacket slung over his shoulder he turned. “Whatcha doing out here anyway?”

I got to my feet, albeit a little wobbly. A lot wobbly, actually, having definitely been put through my paces. Hadn’t been that long a time since I had been fucked, but Swamp Rat had given me a new perspective on what it meant to be fucked. “What am I doing out here? Long story and too much drama. Don’t want to spoil the moment.” Then I laughed and began to retrieve my clothes.

The Swamp Rat opened wide with a huge laugh, shaking his head. “I hear that! K…it’s all good. Like the clubbers say, man, it’s all good.” He paused. A wink and he went on: “And it was good. “ Then he headed back to his rig.

My dick was crusted with dirt and cum, but my shirt was still wet enough for a quick wipe up. What the hell, I thought, wiped my ass and tossed it to ground. My backpack had of couple cleaned ones and I didn’t need a shirt in this heat anyway. Shaking the sandy dirt out of my hair, boots on, I grabbed my pack and turned to face The Rat’s rig.

He was ‘washing’ the tires and after zipping up, climbed up into the cab. I watched him put on his cap, ease back in the seat and light a cigarette. His eyes closed for a moment, then opened and looked at me. I gave him a ‘thumbs-up’ and called out: “Hey man. Thanks.” He nodded and started up the rig. I waited for him to pull out but the rig didn’t move. I chuckled to myself. “Too much of gentleman to leave me stranded. All right, I’ll go first.” With that I turned from the loop and back toward the road. The rig was a few yards away and as I passed he called out:

‘Hey, man. Ya gonna burn in this heat. Where’s yer cap?”

Still walking, I turned: “Lost it. It’s all good. Thanks, again.”

The Rat pitched his cap out of the window. “Keep it. Got more where that came from!”

A souvenir, I thought. And the sun was burning my scalp. I scrambled back for the cap. Dusting it off, I felt the dampness and a warm heady aroma stung my nostrils. Without reticence I put it on. “Cool. Thanks again, man!”

That big mouth with large teeth opened wide, laughing: “It’s all good, dude.

Best I had in a long time.”

I headed down the road to- where. No idea and not a worry. My sore ass told me that where I had been was just fine and where I was going could only be better.

The distance between the rig and me widened and I looked to see if he had pulled out yet. He hadn’t. I couldn’t see the cab and could barely make out the nose in the swirl of dust from the exhaust. The landscape seemed to take on a dream-like quality; slow-moving clouds of dust against stark sun beaten terrain and the only sound the low groan of the engine. Now don’t hold me to this, but I swear, through the smoke and sun, I saw the cab door open and Swamp Rat hop down and head back to where he had fucked me into the ground. I thought I saw him look around, then bend over and pick up something from the ground. Now I know imagination is a powerful instrument, but I would again swear, he held the object to his face, flung it over his shoulder and with a quick turn was back in the cab. The rig pulled out and turned down the side road I had passed in clouds of exhaust and dust.

Finders, keepers, I thought. Pulling the cap down tightly over my eyes, I turned and headed down the road.