Asian Trucker Groupie

Asian Trucker Groupie





By Jocob Fishbinder


My name is Tiana, a shortened version of my original

Korean name. Until I was 16 years old, I was brought

up in a very strict home, protected (smothered) by my

parents, four brothers, and both sets of grandparents.

When I was given the opportunity to become an exchange

student in the United States, I filled out all the

paperwork secretly and forged the necessary signatures.


I quickly immersed myself in the minute details of

Americana, learning the language flawlessly. I per-

fected it and blended into the culture, leaving my

repressive family behind me forever.


I became the mistress of a man in a high government

position and fucked him often, catering to his Asian

fantasies and adding a few variations of my own. An-

cestors of mine, whom I somehow felt a special kin to,

had left behind some very erotic, explicit diaries,

which I smuggled into the USA, and I used their

audacious advice to further my own ends.


My high placed friend, once his balls were drained and

I untied him, was grateful enough to make sure I was

transformed, without going through channels, into a

legal American citizen.


With my dark, gleaming hair, pearly complexion and

long-waisted, graceful body, I learned quickly that

American men found me very appealing, carnally. When

Ron came charging into my life on his big tractor-

trailer, I saw a handsome, all-American man on a white

horse. I was 23 and wanted nothing more than to become

his wife. I teased him mercilessly, refusing to sleep

with him until our honeymoon night, citing, with

demure, dark eyes, my nearly virginal status.


He was stunned when his bashful bride turned foul-

mouthed slut and smoking pistol in bed, sucking his

cock down her long, white throat and swallowing his

cum with glee, then riding his dick until he blew hot

jizz into his wildfire Korean bride.


My husband was a long-distance trucker and a very good

lover. He fucked me like a gigolo before he went away

on one of his long trips, and it was wonderful. I’d

cook a sumptuous Korean feast, with a fancy tablecloth

and candles on the table, and dress in something short

and tight from home.


After an hour of staring into each other’s eyes across

the beautiful dinner, knowing we wouldn’t be seeing

each other for a week or more, we ended up fucking on

the table.


We never had the patience to get completely naked; I

loved it best when he just shoved my skirt up and out

of his way, pushed my panties to one side, dropped his

drawers, and sluiced his dick into me.


Snorting and pawing at each other, we made rough and

tumble love on the rickety tabletop, rattling the

crockery, sometimes sending a few dishes to the floor,

coming together in matching heat and wetness.


When we got down on our knees and started cleaning up

the mess, Ron would be so aroused by my bare ass stick-

ing up, messily oozing his sperm, more often than not

he’d have another go at me, pumping his sticky prick

into me from behind while I hurled my ass into his

crazed thrusts.


He would dive into my pussy and ate me until I was

breathless from coming so often, and I sucked his hard-

knobbed dick for hours on end, swallowing the ensuing

cum fountain joyously.


The sex was spectacular, but after five years, I

couldn’t take being a trucker’s wife any more. Ron

refused to even consider taking a job that brought him

home every night.


Later I found out he had not one, but two other wives,

in other states, and kids, too. I was the only legal

wife, and childless, for which I was thankful. I

cheated, too. A hot-blooded descendent of those erotic

diarists, I felt compelled to.


I was still in my twenties and had too strong an id to

just passively hang out at home watching soap operas

while Ron was on the road. I wanted — needed — more

stimulation — more cock! — than I was getting from

my lovely husband.


I started frequenting a bar, at first just for the

friendly atmosphere. Then I met Mike, a bearded, fun,

short-haul trucker. We struck up a lively discussion

about the baseball game playing on the wide-screen TV.

He was impressed by my knowledge of the game and how

well I knew the players — and he confessed my exotic

oriental looks turned him on.


When, after a couple of drinks, he challenged me to

get up and sing Karaoke, then joined me in a medley of

silly songs like “Purple People Eater” and “Does Your

Chewing Gum Lose its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?”

(And knew all the words!). I was hooked, ready to hump

him right there on stage.


Instead, we headed over to his apartment, where things

came to a boil very quickly between us. Mike unbuttoned

my blouse while we were still standing outside his

apartment, before he even put his key in the lock. “I

can’t wait,” he whispered. “I’ve never made it with an

Asian girl before, I can’t wait!”


I was so excited, my pussy heavily moist, I told him,

“Neither can I!”


He uncovered my braless boobs, kissing them as though

he’d never stop, and I leaned eagerly into his sucking,

lapping mouth and moaned, “Mike, let’s go into your

apartment, or I swear, I’ll fuck you here in the hall,”

I warned licking his earlobe.


“Promise?” he said, his eyes boring into mine.


We compromised. Embracing, laughing, we tumbled into

his apartment, slammed the door behind us and fucked,

standing up, against the wall next to his front door.


Our kisses were frantic, our tongues dirty-dancing

insanely; he kept kissing my tits, sucking the nipples

until they stung with desire. “Fuck me,” I moaned

urgently between kisses. “You’re driving me crazy —

fuck me, Mike!”


I worked on his jeans, impatiently opening his belt,

button, and zipper. I hooked my fingers into his

briefs; (he wore the see-through, translucent kind

where you could see his cock, balls, and pubic hair

underneath). I just dragged them down to his ankles,

detouring briefly to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on his

cock-head.


Mike did the same to me, except he did some showing

off by pulling down the zipper on my No Excuses jeans

with his teeth. It was fast, out of control, thrilling.

I pressed my behind into his wall and he laced his

hands around my ass cheeks.


“Open wide,” he said, and I parted my thighs. Mike

slipped his swollen cock straight up into my pussy and

I mewed, low and deep, loving the way it felt sliding

in … we started moving together, rutting furiously.

He jammed his dick into and out of me while I rotated

my pussy feverishly around and around his shank.


I came really quickly, even for me. “I’m there, Mike,

I’m coming, oh, I love a man who knows how to fuck!”


His cock had this great hook in it, and it felt as if

it were ricocheting off areas no man’s cock had even

reached. I was so primed, so turned on, I kept on com-

ing, constantly juicing Mike’s cock as he plunged it

in and out. I could feel him squeezing my buns, tickl-

ing my sparse anal hair, and it made the pleasure even

more intense.


Finally, Mike’s groans, which had been almost whispery

before, turned triumphant, ecstatic. His body snapped

tight, and I felt his dick bulge inside me.


He launched his cock in me to the balls and shivered

against me, pressing his sweaty face between my neck

and shoulder. I came once more, a small, fluttering

spasm, and pressed my lips to his bearded face in

thanks.


Before he slid his cock out of my cum-filled hole, he

kissed me, a sweet, gentle kiss that made me feel as

if, for that last orgasmic moment, I was in love.


Mike turned out to be a fantastic cunt-snacker too,

and he really got off on eating my pussy after he’d

fucked a big wad into it. His beard tickled my thighs

as he pulled my clit between his teeth and sucked the

hell out of it. I saw stars of pleasure bursting behind

my closed eyelids, and I trapped him in the maw of my

snatch and wouldn’t let him go until I was good and

ready to.


Mike wasn’t in the least dismayed at being so delight-

fully detained. When I came, he drank my gooey eruption

mixed with his and, judging by all the gulping groan-

ing, enjoyed himself thoroughly. “You taste and smell

better than American girls,” he whispered in my ear

once, “like your cunt honey is. . . ambrosial.”


I found his cock very easy to deep-throat and went down

on him as often as was seemly, and once, in a darkened

movie theater, when it definitely wasn’t!


Our relationship continued whenever Ron was out of

town. My husband and lover knew nothing about each

other, which suited me perfectly. I had the best of

both worlds.


Everything fell apart when Mike, buried to the nuts in

my slushy snatch, asked me to marry him. I was forced

to confess that I was already married, and he expressed

horror at my infidelity.


I tearfully explained about my absentee husband, giving

a wringing-hands speech, and he forgave me and agreed

to continue seeing me. I couldn’t help noticing that

something disappeared from our relationship after that

— tenderness, long, luscious foreplay — and we rarely

did anything except get together to hump.


He didn’t take me to anymore baseball games and we

stopped going to the bar where we’d met to sing silly

Karaoke songs. After a while, I started feeling more

like a receptacle for Mike’s jism, and finally got up

the guts to tell him so. “I just never felt the same

about you after you told me your were cheating on your

husband, Tiana. I think we’d better cool it for a

while.”


Another woman might have told him to fuck off, but I

wasn’t ready to give such fantastic screwing — and, I

hoped, neither was he. “Fuck me once more, Mike?” I

asked, and he smiled and nodded. He took me to the best

hotel in town and made delicious love to me in the

king-sized bed.


I remember every second of it clearly, we knew it was

our last time together and we bother worked to make it

special. Mike gave me a dozen red roses, already

arranged in a crystal vase. I sniffed a couple of the

flowers, set them on the night table, stepped forward

and stripped off first his clothes, then mine. Before

we fell onto the bed in an entwined tangle, I danced

my lips across his body, working my way from the top

of his head to the bottoms of his feet.


The spirit of my ancestors came out in full force. I

could feel the muscular cords in his thighs tensing as

I pressed lingering French kisses on his flesh, maneu-

vering from north to south, hips to knees. His cock

began to rise, a majestic pillar protruding splendidly

from his groin. I watched it grow from the corner of

my eye and shivered, wanting to immediately impale

myself on it. I kept flashing back to our first,

frenzied coupling against the wall in his apartment,

how overpowering and shattering it had been, and I

trembled from wanting him so badly.


Still, I refused to rush it. Kneeling nude in the lush

carpet, I spent a long time licking his cock up and

down, sipping his warm pre-cum each time it spewed

from the tip. I planned to eat his shaft just until

his cock was as hard as I liked it for fucking, but I

ended up giving him a full-blown head job, plowing my

lips up and down until he exploded. I swallowed his

salty seed as it hit the back of my throat, reveling

in his blissful cries of fulfillment.


Mike tackled me to the carpet, burrowed between my legs

and gave as good as he’d gotten, squirming tongue be-

tween my pussy lips, diddling my clit, turning my

snatch to scalding lava as he sucked and licked my slot

from front to asshole. I pummeled his face with my cunt

and came over and over, filling his mouth with gushes

of hot honey. Mike drank my seedless juice, burying

himself deep inside me, wetting his face up to the ears

in my nectar.


In bed, I lay on my back and pulled my bent knees

against my shoulders, spreading open my gash for my

lover. Bending to gently kiss my tits, Mike poised

above me in the “push-up” position. He slid his cock

home, pushing it in, stirring it around, until his

balls bumped my bun cheeks. Finally, he slipped his

arms around my back and fell, belly to belly, on top

of me.


I was wide open to his cock’s deep, passionate dips

and turns, and I kept my eyes on his face as he con-

centrated on bringing me the ultimate pleasure. Mike

pumped his cock into me, gliding it in, out, in, out,

using the sweet, torturous cadence that we’d both come

to need. I came twice, two jolting orgasms that pounded

throughout my pussy and the rest of my body like tower-

ing tidal waves.


Before Mike came, I told him to let me get on top; we

switched positions and I leaped up and down on his

shaft as if it were a lusty pogo stick. He held my

hands, then my breasts, and, feeling the long- delayed

climax swooping over him, my waist. I felt his cock

explode in my pussy, spraying the thrumming walls with

spunk.


He dragged me down and gave me a prolonged kiss, all

spit and swirling tongues, then kissed his way to my

neck and stuck his tongue in my ear, a gesture he’d

learned early on turned me into a wild woman. For old

times’ sake, we did the old pump and grind against the

hotel room wall. I screamed when Mike creamed my pussy

one more time, the sound equal parts ecstasy and loss.


We sadly said our good-byes. I took my vase of roses

and we ended our affair. “I love you,” I thought I

heard Mike call out, but the door had shut behind me

and I wasn’t sure.


Ron and I split a year and a half later, a quickie

divorce. I didn’t find out about his other two wives

for a long time, and by then, immersed in my free-

wheeling, any-trucker’s-cock-in-a-storm/sex-for-fun

lifestyle, I laughed it off.


I started hitchhiking across the country, sticking out

my thumb only when guys driving big rigs blasted by.

If, when he pulled over and opened the door, he was

reasonably good-looking and personable, I’d coax him

into pulling off to the shoulder for some spontaneous

screwing.


I had a real ball seducing these knights of the road,

climbing up into their cabs, talking sexy, seating

myself on their up-thrust lances, going up, down and

all around in their laps whiles they breathed harshly

in my ear, kissed the back of my neck, my lips, and

hoisted their dicks up into me with abandon. They loved

my unusual dark, sensuous eyes and my exotic skin tone,

“It’s like fucking a woman you know you shouldn’t,

forbidden, dangerous, but you can’t stay away,” one

said after I’d given him head for a full hour, swallow-

ed his outpouring of cum, then humped him with immense

pleasure for both of us. Sometimes I faced them, other

times I looked out the windshield at a distant object

while they pronged me.


I always came noisily and often, feeling a warm, wet

rush as their spunk billowed from the heads of their

cocks into my satiated pussy. It wasn’t unusual for me

to do a guy more than once in my cross- country trek,

and I swiftly became known as Tiana, the Trucker’s

Talented Alabaster-Skinned Tail.


A fond favorite of mine was Jimmy. He was only 22, so

full of verve and energy, he almost wore my out. He

didn’t like making it in the cab of the truck — “too

confining,” — he complained — so we usually ended up

in his trailer. Since he often transported the contents

of people’s homes from state to state, we often had our

choice of bouncy mattresses to hump on.


Jimmy, a guy with an 11-inch, salami-thick cock, turned

me on to getting fucked from behind. He prepped me for

more than half an hour beforehand, looping his tongue

all over my pussy, wriggling first one, then two, then

three fingers deep into my pussy while frenziedly

thumbing my clit. The combination was electrifying; he

made me come three times that way, the orgasms even

more outrageous because I couldn’t see him finger-

fucking me. It could have been anyone back there!


He arranged me on all fours then slipped a heavily

lubricated condom on his stiff dick. Looking over my

shoulder at his gigantic hard-on, I shivered. Jimmy,

mistaking my arousal for fear, said, “Tiana, it’ll fit,

I swear! You’re gonna love it! A girl like you is made

for this!”


“Fuck me,” I said, feeling a pagan sensation of lust

corkscrewing through my belly. Jimmy whooped with glee,

spread open my pussy, then split it open with his cock.


Those first few strokes made me feel as if there was

no room for him, condom or not, but when Jimmy produced

a zzzzzing vibrator out of nowhere and applied it to my

clit, a pleasure bomb exploded in my cunt, mushrooming

through every nerve ending. He pumped his shaft into

and out of my pussy while I played the vibrator back

and forth across my clit. Jimmy came only once, his

exploding cock throbbing uncontrollably.


I, humping crazily backwards and forwards between real

and plastic cocks, not sure if I was going, but

positive I was coming, blew off more times than I could

keep track of. I traveled with the ever-ready Jimmy for

nearly a month, sapping his cock in my mouth, snatch

and fists whenever it suited us — and it suited us

constantly!


After we mutually decided it was time for a change, he

dropped me off on the highway, kissing me deeply and

giving my tit an affectionate squeeze. I stuck out my

thumb and was picked up somewhere in Wisconsin by a

45-foot trailer. When I hauled my ass into the truck,

I saw the driver was Mike. “Tiana!” he said exultantly.

“My favorite Korean love glove!”


He and I were attached at the groins not five minutes

later for a wet, wild reunion, coming nearly on con-

tact. We’re living together now, talking about getting

married.