Asian Trucker Groupie

My name is Tiana, a shortened version of my original Korean name. Until I was 17 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.