Asian Trucker Groupie

My name is Tiana, a shortened version of my original
Korean name. Until I was 21 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.

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