To JB: I hope I captured your story the way you envisioned it.
Of note: The story contains no sexual thoughts or activities involving minors.
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I never met my father. He bailed out after impregnating Mom. Mom's family was poor and could not afford to pay for an abortion, but according to her, even if the money was available, she wouldn't have killed the child god gave her. Mother worked as a secretary in a factory, and her salary barely covered our needs. Despite the difficulties, she managed to hold her job and be there for me whenever I needed.
In school, I vowed to get good grades, and not be poor when I grew up. In high school, I did well in most subjects. My favorite ones were social studies, history, and the arts. On 3 occasions, our art teacher prepared a show for the students and staff. In 2 of them, I had the leading role. Despite being an introvert and quite shy, I felt at home in front of an audience. In my senior year, I made up my mind to go to Los Angeles and become an actor. Mom didn't think it was a good idea, telling me I was too timid to survive the meatgrinder in the city where every second visitor had similar dreams. I ignored her advice and waited until finishing high school.
I was eighteen and four months old when, at last, high school days were over. It took a week to plan, organize, and get going. I knew Mom did not have spare money to buy a flight or train ticket, and since I was in no hurry, I planned to hitchhike my way to LA. Was it a good idea to hitchhike? I wasn't sure. I was barely 18 years old, 5'7", and weighing only 160 pounds. However, I was very motivated to succeed in the city of angels and saw no other option to arrive there.
The day I was leaving, Mom pleaded with me to call her daily, ensuring her I was OK. I promised to do that. In the morning, she drove me in her old Chevy to UNC Charlotte's main station, handed me $150 for food and cheap lodging, and cried on my shoulder. She left me there with my carry-on and drove for work.
...
I knew it wouldn't be easy to get a ride, but the truth was, I had no clue if it would take an hour or 24 hours... The trick was to wait patiently and hope somebody would go part of the way westward. After 2.5 hours, a nice old guy was headed to Atlanta and agreed to take me with him. The drive took 5 hours. I was hungry and tired, but I was reluctant to spend my money. Fortunately, the guy guessed my situation and ordered dinner for both of us at a local diner. When we finished, He drove me to Petro Stopping Center #322 and told me this was the best place to find a ride to California. It was a huge center, especially for truckers on their way from east to west.
I walked around and inquired 14 drivers about their destinations. Most drove in the right direction but not all the way. I thought the place was optimal for finding a ride, so I kept looking. The 15th driver ate dinner. I approached him, introduced myself, and asked if he was going my way. His eyes inspected me, likely checking if I looked dangerous, and then he smiled, "My final destination is a suburb of LA. It will probably take me 3 days to arrive there."
"Will you take me with you, please?"
"OK, but be good. By the way, my name is Harry."
"Of course, sir. I am not going to cause any trouble." I sat with him until he finished his meal. He stood up and I was able to appreciate him better. He was 6'3" and weighed somewhat above 200 pounds. He had an impressive mustache, black hair, and a smiley face.
I climbed the passenger's seat on his 18-wheeler and tried to relax following a tiring day. After driving for about an hour, he noticed I was dozing off and said, "Nick, I like to drive late evening and early night hours because traffic is light. My intent is to drive 4 hours, reach a small town in Mississippi called Saltillo, sleep there for several hours, and continue driving."
"Will I find a place to sleep there too?"
He chuckled, "I have been doing this route, Atlanta to LA and back, for years now. A few of my driver friends and I have our small lodging places along the way. We share the costs, and each place has everything we need, from beds to showers, toilets, and even swimming pools and jacuzzis. To answer your question: The beds are king-sized, so you'll be able to sleep as well. But since I'll continue driving for another 3 hours, try to sleep now.
...
I woke up at 2 am due to the truck's sudden stop. Harry got out and opened the gate to the yard of a one-story building. The lawn was neglected, but there was a small pool and a jacuzzi, both clean and ready to be used.
We put our luggage in the bedroom, and Harry went to the bathroom. When he got out, he told me he liked to use the pool and the jacuzzi before going to sleep.
I said, "I didn't bring a swimsuit."
He grinned, "Nick, it's only you and me, and it's late at night. Nobody else will be around. I use the pool and jacuzzi in the nude as well. Try them; you'll feel refreshed and much better after a long drive in a sitting position."
His explanation sounded very logical, and I decided to try. I went out, removed my clothes, and entered the pool. The water was cool but not too much, and it felt amazing. Five minutes later, Harry came out wearing shorts. I always imagined truck drivers as older and having beer bellies. However, he was younger, I'd say about 35, and his figure was impressive: Broad shoulders, hairy chest and arms, a 6-pack, and muscular legs.
He removed his shorts, and I saw his junk. His ball sack looked heavy, and the underline of his testicles was clearly visible. The penis bent down and was at least 5" in length. I've never seen an organ that size in men's dressing rooms. Mine, when erect, had a similar length. I wondered how much more it gained when fully engorged.
Harry entered the pool, swam a few laps, and sat on the ledge with his legs dangling in the water. He closed his eyes and continued sitting quietly. I sat on the other side of the pool, about 20 feet away, and watched him. He was manly, athletic, and imposing. I couldn't take my eyes off his organ: The mushroomed head was large and looked purple in the dim light. The shaft was veiny, with the basal part covered with dark hair.
All of a sudden, Harry blurted, "Nick, I noticed you are curious about my cock. It's OK, don't be shy. Come closer, and you'll see it better."
I blushed, "I was surprised to realize it was that big..."
"As I said, come sit by me and find out if you were right about the size."
I hesitated. I knew I wasn't gay. Like other guys my age, I fantasized and masturbated thinking about Charlize Theron and Sydney Sweeney. However, I could not deny that Harry's member was... interesting.