Onward Hitcher, The Last Leg

Stories and fantasies about gay encounters in rainwear
Post Reply
Posts: 145
Joined: August 31st, 2010, 6:31 pm

Onward Hitcher, The Last Leg

Post by cammacg »

Future Hitcher, The Last Leg

The last time I had driven away from Pamela’s house, my heart was in my boots. But not today. Yes, I was filled with trepidation, and there might have been a tinge of regret, but my overall feeling was that of wonder, and I could even say, love.

As a sign of the future, there was now, two coat hangers, holding rubber lined mackintoshes, draped from the top bunk. One with a Navy Blue, Polka Dot, rubber lined mackintosh, and the other with a Sand coloured, rubber lined mackintosh. The sight of those two mackintoshes, was a pure delight, and the smell was heaven to behold.

We had set off along the M 20 Motorway, heading for the Channel Tunnel, and the train to France. I had a trailer full of hanging beef, for delivery to a meat packing plant, in a small town called Nuth, in southern Holland, due there the following morning. It wasn’t going to be an easy trip, this run never was. It meant a lot of hours running illegally, not much sleep till the load had been discharged, but I would then get a good night’s rest, before reloading back to the UK. A short, but different trip to the norm, if there is ever anything normal about international road haulage,

We chatted, all the way down to Folkestone, but the chatter dried up, as we approached the check-in at the Tunnel site. The operation is all mechanical / computerised, with information being punched into a keypad. Then, because I had a passenger, I was directed into the X Ray scanner. In there, we had to vacate the truck, and present our passports, and the trucks cargo documentation, called CMR’s, to the customs officers.

All papers in order, and nothing untoward showing up on the scanners, we were through, and ready to join the queue for the train. I had to tell Danny about the bus. Once the trucks are loaded onto the train, and this happens at two points, one at the back of the train, and the other in the middle, and both simultaneously. There are two busses that roll slowly along the platform. They come alongside the trucks, just as the driver has dismounted, switched any fridge motors off, pick the driver up, and roll slowly to the next truck. When all the drivers have been collected, the busses turn round and drive quickly to the front of the train, where there is a passenger carriage. One bus at either end gets the drivers speedily off the buses, and into the carriage, and almost as soon as this is done, the train is on its way.

This all happens like clockwork, and there is no need for rainwear, unfortunately. The drivers sit in the carriage, for the 45 minutes it takes the train to reach Coquelles, in France. Then it all happens in reverse. The lorry driver has to keep a sharp watch for his vehicle, to avoid any chance of missing his stop, resulting in the train being held up. And it does happen. Some drivers have been awake for a long time, in the dash to catch the train, even though there is a constant run of trains, throughout a 24 hour period.

I think I was self conscious, having Danny with me, but he was natural, at ease, in this alien environment. We couldn’t touch, and it was strange, because it was all I wanted to do. But we would be able to catch up later. Oh yes! I worked at making Danny feel at ease, and that wasn’t easy, with a carriage load of Eastern Europeans, many of whom hadn’t washed in weeks. The glorious side of trucking.

On arrival in Coquelles, the French rail terminal, everything worked in reverse. Out of the carriage, in the same order, onto French buses, and back to the trucks. Silent fridge motors fired up, and the slow file of vehicles, to exit the train. Then the “Le Mans” race to get wheels moving, and on to join the A18 / E40 North, to Oostende, we would then follow that same road, through to Brussels.

I certainly hadn’t had any chance to do anything other than chat, but the man was easy to get on with, as was his female persona. That might sound a silly thing to say, but the mind was telling me one thing, and my eyes were telling me another. But it was the “person” I was falling in love with, and it was the person I needed to tell my feelings to. The person I felt I needed to reassure.

For his part, Danny had used the two hangers, to house his sand coloured, mackintosh, and, also, the beautiful, navy blue, polka dot, mackintosh. They were now, both hanging from the top bunk, so the bunks area, was hidden behind a wall of rubber lined mackintoshes. The sight was a delight to behold, and , as I have said, the smell was divine. Needless to say, I couldn’t keep my hands off them. He had hung the sand coloured, garment, right next to me, so that was the one I felt for, first. So, between the need to talk, and the proximity of the mackintoshes, we managed to chat on a very personal level. It was good, and it was productive. We both knew there was a lot against any kind of a relationship, but the more we talked, the smaller the obstacles became.

We reached Nuth at about 05.00 the following morning. Danny had managed to sleep for a good part of the night, and now we could both get some rest till about 09.00 hrs. That being when my body clock would tell me I had to be up and ready. I put my CMRs, (Consignment Merchandise Routier) , International Delivery Papers, inside a plastic bag and wedged them into the drivers door handle. A porter from the meat plant would collect them, at about 06.30. What I didn’t know, what I never knew, was, how many trucks were before me in the queue. There would be trucks waiting from all over Europe, and from even further afield. I had seen trucks in there from Russia, before today.

Daylight came, and we could have breakfast. Through lack of cafes and such like, we would have to eat in the truck for a day or two, so it was baguettes, with cheese and marmalade, washed down with coffee, brewed in the truck’s coffee maker.

At about 11.30, I was instructed to reverse onto the loading dock, I opened the doors, saw the load was still intact, and reversed onto the air bags, that would form a seal between the truck and the packing plant. After about an hour or so, I was empty, now came the hardest part for me. I had to take all the meat hooks off the five rails in the ceiling, and stow them in food crates, then stow them, in turn, in the side lockers on the trailer. This is purely a health and safety issue, as the supermarket loaders, back in the UK, won’t work in fridge trailers, with the hooks over their heads.

So, now to get the inside of the trailer washed out, ready for a load of yoghurts, back to Harlow, in Essex. Drivers were, and still are, in some cases, expected to wash out the trailers, getting a soaking in the process, but the Europeans have a good chain of businesses, geared up to do the job for us. Lovely Jubbly. The wash wasn’t far away, and when we had driven the whole vehicle inside the wash shop, Danny and I could go and grab a coffee in the office.

There was a guy dressed in a vinyl waterproof suit. He would climb into the trailer with a high pressure hose. He would wash the inside with soap, and then rinse the soap out leaving the trailer nice and clean. Danny and I went into the office area, me to sign for a wash, and then to be provided with coffee. It gave both of us a chance to show off our grasp of the French language, whilst both of us still being in close contact. He was part of me now.

All That was left for me to do, was to drive back the way we had come, to a town called Beringen, in Belgium, and park, ready to load at 06.00 tomorrow. Which actually gave me a whole evening off, and a night in bed.

I would like to say the guy in the office at the Danone factory was a friend, but that would be stretching it a tad too far. But he is an ex-pat Brit. He has become a friend, after loading there down through the years. It is quiet during the night with a separate toilet and shower for drivers to use. When I arrive at the factory, usually about 17.00 hrs, I can open the doors on the trailer, and back onto the loading bay, ready for the morning, with the doors open, the floor would dry off. The warehouse staff will waken me when they start to load, and loading doesn’t take long.

So now we can avail ourselves of the factory’s amenities. I shower, then while Danny showers, I get our evening meal started. It will be stewed steak, followed by rice pudding. All of it coming out of tins. Having finished our meal, I took the dishes and the pans to the wash room, to wash up. When I returned to the truck, there was a woman sitting in the cab. Pamela had returned.

Just a few minutes walk from the factory, out through the back gate, is a canal. I don’t know what it is called, but it is a main highway for very large barges. I always manage to walk down there, to sit on an armco barrier, and watch these giant barges sail by. They pass every five or ten minutes or so, and with ships and shipping being a passion of mine, the canal and its traffic, are a magnet. I tentatively suggested to Pamela, that we could take a stroll down there. She was all for it, for exercise was in short supply.

So, it was help her on with her polka dot rubber lined mackintosh, then, it was out of the cab, round to the passenger side, and be there, as the lady climbed down. She backed down the steps to the ground, and, turned right into my kiss. It was all arms, lips and entwined tongues.

There was still plenty of daylight left, so it was easy to see our way down the path, through the bushes, to the side of the canal. We walked hand in hand, enjoying the freedom and the fresh air. I was thoroughly enjoying the company, having made this little walk so often alone, it made a wonderful change to have Pamela with me.

The barges we saw, were loaded with all sorts of cargoes. We clocked bulkers with gravel and coal, some with timber, and tankers, and yet others with hatches battened down. Most of them had a car sitting on the roof of the cabin, which would be lifted off by a Hi-Hab crane, fitted to the stern. We stayed, watching for a while, till the light began to fade, then turned back towards the truck.

With the growing dusk, I couldn’t resist the temptation to stop and play. A kiss turned into a general grope, with hands getting into all the nooks and crannies of Pamela’s mackintosh. Finding the bulge that told me Pamela was glad to see me. I dropped down onto my knees, in the grass just off the path, hidden in the bushes. I managed to slip my hands up under her dress, then to slip her rubber panties down, to free that beautiful cock. It was soooooo wonderful to feel it again. To stroke it, to caress her balls, to wrap it in that rubber lining, and feel it’s contours in my hands, and that area of flesh above her nylons. Then to take that cock into my mouth. I could feel her pressing my head into the folds of rubber. My nostrils were full of the tantalising smell of her, I couldn’t hear much of anything, except the rumpling that wonderful garment.

Within five or so minutes she came, filling my mouth with her cum. I thought she was going to collapse, so strong was her orgasm. But she managed to hold on, as her motions settled down again, and I had sucked her dry. It was time again, for a tongue entwining kiss, and a slow stroll back to the lorry. This time with arms around each other, me stroking her through her rubber mackintosh.

When we got back to the truck, I opened the doors, and stood with her as she climbed up into cab. I couldn’t resist slipping my hands up her nylon covered legs, till I reached her naked thighs. And, that hard cock. She had a second erection. I would have to take care of that in a minute or two.

When I returned from the toilet, the curtains were drawn round the truck’s windows. I opened the door and climbed up into the cab. There she was, in a flimsy night dress, which was wonderfully tented out, at the front. She picked up the sand coloured mackintosh, and simply said, it’s your turn. I was really glad thatI had had a quick wash around all the parts that matter, whilst in the washroom.

I was very soon stripped naked. She bade me sit in the passenger seat, and to recline it slightly. She moved up behind me on the bunk. I could hear the rumpling of that sand mackintosh. It was then covering my head. She began to caress my face, with the rubber lining. Very slowly, very deliberately, very gently. The odour, and the feeling was wonderful. She kept the mackintosh moving, so I was constantly feeling the cool rubber. I wasn’t allowed to touch it at all. All the administrations were hers.

She made me recline the seat more, and she moved from behind me, to my right side. The sand coloured mackintosh, was left covering my face, but she was now wearing my rubber gloves, and was making them work wonders with my nipples, She eventually reached my cock. I was stifling under the mackintosh, so I pulled it away from my face, but didn’t release it from my grip, I wanted to cuddle it. I wanted to feel that beautiful rubber lining on my hands.
She started to wank me. Slowly. And why not, we didn’t have anywhere to go, and an evening to ourselves. It was a long slow build up, aided and abetted by the mackintosh I was making love to with my hands. She covered my cock with a latex glove, so there wasn’t any danger to my upholstery. When the time came, I felt as though I was going to explode, and I did explode. It seemed, as though it was going on forever, she excelled herself, continuing to tease me, stroking with the rubber gloves, making all my nerve endings sing

When she stood up, I managed to catch hold of her, intending take care of her new hard on. Taking it into my mouth, gently sucking, deep and long. Paying very particular attention to the head. I wrapped her sand mackintosh around her bottom, and around my head. “All of a sudden”, I was in need, of that wonderful aroma, and more connection with that equally wonderful rubber lining. By the time I had made her cum, she must have had aching legs, and been ready to sit down. It took so long, she was trembling. I moved, and sat next to her on the bunk, just to hold her, and talk to her, to tell her how much I had enjoyed all that we had done, together.

All too soon, it was 06.15 hrs. I woke to the sound of the shutters going up on the loading bay. Work was about to commence. I dressed, put coffee on to brew, and went to have a quick wash. When I returned to the truck, Danny was waiting for me. He had made the coffee, which we shared with half a baguette, with butter and marmalade. Sometimes, the simplest of things can be the very best, and it would certainly do us, till we could get a proper meal later, en route.

Load secured, doors locked and sealed, we were ready to leave Berlingen, and head back to Calais. We had breakfast, then later stopped at Veurne for fuel, duty free shopping, and eventually caught a ship late in the afternoon. The plan was, as usual, park that night in South Mimms, offload the next morning in Cheshunt, then reload in Harlow, for Redruth in Cornwall. I would be home, for the first time in several weeks.

But for now, we could run down “The Corridor” to Oostende, then turn south to Calais, and, we could do the journey in daylight, which made it a tad more interesting. But there was a much more serious side to the trip. We had to try to discuss what the future might look like. Pamala had a life, in Rochester, as did Danny. I for sure, had a life centred on the Southwest, and this Scania truck. One of my concerns, was the basic fact, that I did not always ship in and out of Dover. I very often shipped out of Plymouth, Portsmouth, Hull Grimsby, and ports to Ireland, both north and south. What this meant, was the fact of our meetings were firmly in the hands of my company’s traffic planners. I couldn’t ask for any special treatment. I went where I was sent. I was an international ” tramper “, I was paid to roam Europe, a modern day nomad.

I still, was fingering that beautiful rubber lining of Danny’s sand coloured mackintosh.

Pamela couldn’t dedicate any time to my itinerant comings and goings. Even if she could, it meant a life of sitting in the truck, and crazy hours, eating a stupid diet of café and “Camion Stew” meals. Missing meals. Meals eaten in the middle of the night. It was to the outsider, a crazy way to live, but I had never known any other way. So, it looked like a no-win situation. And even when we had reached Calais, and the ferry, we hadn’t been able to work anything concrete out. It seemed that we would have to take it one trip at a time. Meeting when and where we could. Who knew what might change in the future, for either of us.

After a meal of fish and chips, in the ship’s restaurant, the ferry docked in the evening, with the usual stampede of drivers heading down to the garage decks. Then we set off back to Rochester, with us both working to keep everything light and jovial. I was tempted to park near her home for the night, but I would be taking valuable time needed for the next day’s work. I had to keep going for today, so I could be on the doorstep, at my delivery point, first thing.

All too soon we were stopped on Tesco’s car park. I once again held that mackintosh for Danny to slip into. We would have to say goodbye in the cab. As I settled the mackintosh round his shoulders, he turned, and slipped, oh so naturally into my arms. Our kiss was long and urgent. We just couldn’t let each other go. I had slid my hands up inside the mackintosh, maybe for the very last time. I could feel the tears running from my eyes. But we had to part. I climbed down and went round to the passenger side, and watched as he also climbed down. I reached up and retrieved his bag, then we shook hands in a gentlemanly way, then he was walking away, towards his house.

I started the truck, and began to move towards the main road. I could hardly see, with the floods of tears running down my face, but it had to be. By the time I had gained the main road, and made the left turn towards the motorway, he had reached his doorway. He turned, I nearly fell out of the window, both of us waving like crazy. Then the slight bend in the road took him from view, and he was gone. I have never felt so alone in my life. The truck and the job in hand kept me focussed. I did what I had to do, get to South Mimms, to offload, the next day, then reload in Harlow, and drive down to Cornwall. It was the longest, hardest journey I have ever made.

But there was the mobile phone. We used it well, and it certainly bridged some of the distance between us. For a few minutes, it made the miles disappear, but then, the loneliness, returned. In all, it gave me plenty of time to think. Think of where my life had been, where it was going, where it might lead in the future. I called Danny. I told him straight, that I wanted Dan-ella in my life. I wanted to have the certainty of a blue, polka dot rubber lined, and a sand coloured, mackintosh, also in my life, as they represented the twin personas of Pamela and Danny. I went on to tell him, “I Love You, and I am coming back to you, as soon as I can possibly can.”

The days after that, weren’t quite so dark. With hope taking the place of the previous gloom. And the certainty of seeing “Dan-ella” again, very soon.
Posts: 2339
Joined: March 17th, 2011, 9:03 pm
Location: Scunthorpe

Re: Onward Hitcher, The Last Leg

Post by hotwilly »

Excellent and tenderly written story
Thank you
Broad minded enough to acknowledge we all enjoy different things:)
Post Reply