Recap: I had left Pamela, outside her house, in Rochester, waving each other good-bye, as I left, heading for Dover, and a ferry to catch.
I couldn’t remember feeling so bad. I loved my job. It had taken me to almost every country in the European Union, and I had been driving trucks across Europe for twenty five years. So why did I not want to go now. I had a fairly straight forward run, in front of me, down to Marseilles, tip a load of British Porcelain products, then run to Cannes, to reload a similar load, for return to Stafford in the UK. I would normally revel in this sort of journey, but not tonight.
I had only met Pamela about eight hours ago, as she stood in the rain, looking for a lift down to Rochester, resplendent in her Blue, Polka Dot, Rubber Lined, Mackintosh, I wondered if it was the magic of meeting someone in a rubber Mackintosh, but there was a certain charm about the mackintosh’s wearer too. She had certainly made an impression on me.
Still, it was going to be a t least a week before we could meet again. If we met again. So, to Dover, across the channel, then park up to finish my rest break. Then heading off down the middle of France. My next rest beak would be Macon, then just north of Marseilles itself.
Ideally, I wanted to get offloaded on the Friday morning, then across to Cannes, and maybe get loaded there, on Friday afternoon, or Saturday morning. That would give me a chance to try to make it back to the truck stop at Macon, for my weekend break. That being a compulsory break, of 24 hours, from 22.00 Saturday, till 22.00 on Sunday night. Then, all being well, I could make the boat in one hit, and back into the UK.
Pamela, and I, made good use of our mobile phones. Keeping in touch, strengthened this new and fragile bond, and made the passing of my compulsory break, bearable. Even though our phone calls had been frequent, there had not been any decisions made. Problems would jump out, all over the place, but I guessed they would have to be tackled as they arose. For example, crossing the channel would be a mega problem, but we would be able to cope with that, with proper preparation and planning. No dramas there then.
Sunday night, 22.00 hrs, and I was up and running again, north bound, and ferry booked. All I had to do was to run the gauntlet of migrants in the Calais area. I had to work out if I could make the Ferry Port without making a stop. Coming out of France, I had to fill both fuel tanks, to make the best of lower French fuel prices. Normally I would do that with ease in Calais, but the migrant problem meant it was dangerous to stop in the area, never mind get out of the cab.
I managed to cross the channel before I needed to take a “Daily Rest Period”. So, the truck stop in Dover for 9 hours, which meant I could be with Pamela by about !5.00 hrs. It was time to see if there was more talk than action. Fortunately, her car had been delivered back to her, earlier in the week, so that was a major hurdle out of the way.
I pressed her speed dial number. It was answered immediately. I wondered if she was sitting with her phone in her hands. I asked if she was planning to travel with me. She said YES. I could hardly believe my ears, and I asked her to repeat what she had said, and she said YES, you sound surprised. I had to admit, I had been filled with trepidation. But she had just said YES.
It would take me about an hour to an hour and a half to reach her home. To say that my stomach was churning, was an understatement. The same question, floated around in my head, is it right or wrong? How are we going to cope with the problems that will come up? Did I fully understand what was involved? To question 1…Yes. It couldn’t be more right for me. Question 3….Yes, I did understand what was involved, more or less. And question 2…..we would take it one step at a time. Together. There were more issues facing Pamela, than there were facing me, and I had to help her, guide her through them.
Rochester, next exit. As I drove past her house, I saw her door was open. Then, she was standing on the front step. She had a holdall on the step, and she was locking the door. She was wearing her Blue, Polka Dot, Rubber Lined Mackintosh. .By the time I had parked in Tesco’s car park, she was approaching the truck, beaming from ear to ear. I was down, out of the cab, opened the passenger door, and took her into my arms. The kiss she gave me, was proof positive of what we were embarked upon.
She was radiant. She was no longer plain, she was beautiful. Her eyes sparkled, and there was something in mine, that was telling her, that I was so very pleased to see her. Once again, I was able to help her to climb the five steps up into the cab. I threw her bag up first, so we both had our hands free. I for my part was able to hold her steady, and of course, my hands slid down her rubber mackintoshed body, as she climbed.
She waited till I had climbed in the driver’s side, before she unfastened her belt and buttons. Then I eased the mackintosh off her shoulders, and once more hung it on my one and only coat hanger. Of course, I managed to get a touch of that black rubber lining, as I hooked it on the edge of the top bunk.
She was wearing a light blue blouse, with a navy blue skirt, nylons and black shoes. Her hair was short and fair in colour, and it really suited her. `she was a pleasure to behold. As soon as she was seated and strapped in, it was time to be off. The plan was, to tip the load of imported ceramics in Stafford, then, somewhere yet to be decided, probably Avonmouth, to change trailers, from the tautliner, curtain sided trailer, to a fridge, loaded with hanging meat, bound for Holland. That would require a rendezvous with one of the company’s drivers, who would bring the loaded trailer up, from our base in Cornwall.
But first we had to talk. And talk we did. I think this was new territory for both of us. We had a couple of hours before I needed to take a break, so we made the most of it. I had tod her about my love of all things rubber, on our journey from the Midlands to Rochester, now I wanted to find out about the lady.
It had been a mammoth decision for her to come with me today. It wasn’t going to be easy for either of us. We knew we had to sort out what we each wanted. I knew about the Pamela I could see, but I needed to know about the inner woman. We were not kids, and if we got it wrong, it was going to hurt. I guessed, I had to let her lead the way.
She told me how she got started, and about the fear of “coming out”. How it had taken its toll on her, mentally, and the journey her life had taken. Some good, some bad, and lots in between. I was determined that I wouldn’t put her under any kind of pressure. Because she is a T.V., doesn’t mean she wants sex with a man. I knew what I wanted, and I was prepared for rejection and disappointment. Or at least, I hoped I was. I would have to wait for her to indicate what she wanted, that, in itself would be exciting.
She had brought a holdall full of clothes, so I could take a lead from that. Luckily, I carried two bed quilts, mainly for warmth up in Scandinavian counties, but they would be used, one each, in the truck, tonight. Some of the excess baggage I could slip into black bags, and tuck just inside the side lockers of the trailer, for storage. At least I could create a bit of room to move. When one lives alone for 95% of their time, they get used to their own space, and they don’t like someone else invading it. It was going to take some getting used to. It seemed to be a whole new era of adjustment.
Two and a half hours later, driving in light rain, we had reached the Watling Street truck stop. Just off the M1 motorway, south of Dunstable. We would be here for the night, ready for an early start, in the morning, in out run up to Stafford. An early start would help us to beat the morning traffic around Birmingham. I managed to park, up in the top corner, “out of the way”, but still able to get out, when I needed to.
Time to get a shower, and a good meal. Plus, Pamela shouldn’t have any problems here either, with good clean toilets, and showers. After I had completed my paperwork, it was time to decamp. Once again, I managed to help Pamela into her mackintosh. This time I was allowed to slip my arms around her waist, and to give her a kiss on her cheek, whilst pulling her close to me.
I was down, out of the cab, and round by the passenger door, as she turned to climb down backwards. I was poised, ready to catch her, if she should slip. She had climbed down two steps, when she stopped. Her polka dot, mackintoshed bottom, was right in front of my face. After a moment, I asked her if she was alright. She said, she thought it a good time for me to explore a little, to find out what was in store for me.
I asked if she was sure. She told me to literally, “feel free”. I placed a hand on her left, nylon clad leg. Then my right hand too. Very slowly, I stroked her leg going higher. Up under the hem of her mackintosh, to the top of her nylons. My face was pressed into her mackjntoshed bottom. My hands discovered a naked thigh. Oh, how I loved the feel of that thigh. Slowly, I moved on, lifting my hands higher, then got the shock of my life, as I encountered rubber panties. I was able now, to caress her bottom. It was beautiful. To feel the rubber slipping under my hands.
I kept my left hand on her left buttock, and slowly moved my right hand, round to the front of her body. The rubber beneath my fingers was a delight, and then I found what I was looking for. A beautiful bulge, that seemed, somehow, to be getting bigger. I traced the outline of that bulge, with my fingertips, imagining it without the thin rubber covering. It was a nice size, and I longed to touch it, for real. But I had kept the lady waiting long enough. She would be getting cramps in her legs, if I didn’t let her get all the way down to the ground soon. As she touched land, I turned her round to face me, and then our lips met. I wanted to ravish her with my kisses, but I didn’t do that. I kissed her gently, letting my lips and tongue do their work. She responded magnificently, telling me she appreciated what had happened between us.
I lifted down her shoulder bag, locked the truck, and slipped my arm round her waist, as we walked towards the café. We didn’t mention the wonderful interlude again, there was no need to. But there was instead, an understanding, that we now knew the score, We knew what each other wanted, and the way forward was fairly clear.
Showered, and dined. There was a pub, a short way back towards the motorway, which would normally have been my next move, but seeing as I wanted to be off early the next morning, we decided to skip the pub, and instead headed for “home”. The beauty of the Watling Street truck stop, is that they have outside, Portakabin, toilets, for use of patrons, after the café had closed, which was going to make life a lot easier, for both of us.
I gave her the truck keys. All she had to do was point the fob and press the button, and she had access to both doors. The separation gave me the chance to make a couple of calls, that I couldn’t make earlier, and filled the time just nicely. I decide it was time to return to the truck. My mind spinning with wonder, at what I would find.
I tapped on the door, my bloody truck, and I’ve got to knock, but it did seem to be the right thing to do. She answered my knock with a timid, “Come in”. I climbed up into the cab. I didn’t see her at first, she was lying on the bottom bunk, resplendent in a pink negligee, and wearing MY mackintosh. I asked her if she was OK, and she replied that she was fine, and that I should join her. How anyone can remain dignified whilst taking all their clothes off, especially in the confines of a lorry cab, baffles me, but I did it. No matter what it looked like. Then I was standing there, before her, with a raging, hard cock.
I looked down at her. I don’t know what I had expected to see, but it wasn’t this. She was absolutely divine. She very simply lay quite still, dressed in a nightie, type garment, inside of a rubber mackintosh. It couldn’t be more bizarre, but it was a beautiful scene, and all I wanted to do, was to touch her. She just said, “Please, make love to me”. I was not going to turn away from a request like that. All I had to do, was to work out where to begin.
I decided the best place to start, was to get a couple of pairs of latex gloves, out of the box I carry, in the side pocket above the passenger door. I often use a glove as a condom, to avoid making an unnecessary mess, and that is what I had in mind, for now. Then, I did what all men should do, I knelt by the side of the lady.
As it says in the words of the song…….”It Started With A Kiss”…… A gentle, slow, tender kiss. Then I unfastened the two lower buttons of her negligee. I discovered her rubber panties. This pair were white. So smooth and soft to my touch. I gently explored the whole area, on the out side. I covered her with the skirts of the mackintosh she was wearing, letting her feel the touch of cold rubber, of my mackintosh, so she had wo layers of rubber material. Then going back to feeling just the white panties. I absolutely loved feeling the shape of her through the rubber, tracing the shape with my fingertips, up and down the shaft, and down around her balls. I caressed and teased the area for along time, revelling in the touch of her panties, in conjunction with my rubber mackintosh, that I thought she had fallen asleep. But no, she raised herself a little to assist me in sliding down her rubber pants.
Then there it was. I was not disappointed. It was perfect. Six inches long, and throbbing. I caressed it some more, but this time skin on skin. Slowly and tenderly. I took it into my mouth, gently sucking whilst teasing her balls. When I felt her getting roused, I placed a rubber glove over her member, and caressed her to a climax.
I couldn’t let her go. I continued to caress her till she had come down off her “high”. I cleaned her pubic area, then applied some talc. She sat up and cupped my head in her hands, pulling me into a kiss, that made my earth move.
Then she said, ”It’s your turn now”. She held her own mackintosh out, for me to slip in to. That black rubber lining was heaven to touch. It slid up my arms, till the garment sat on my shoulders. She pulled it round my body so I could feel the thrill of the chill. She sat on the bunk, and I stood before her. She took me in her mouth as she cupped my balls in that beautiful material. She didn’t rush. The journey was long and exquisite. Her administrations accompanied by the touch of her mackintosh. Then she covered my penis with a rubber glove, then took me on a ride round the moon and back. I don’t think I have ever been treated to such a delicate touch. Her caresses, coupled with the heady aroma of her polka dot, black rubber lined mackintosh. She was looking after me, so it gave me the chance to gather up the folds of that amazing mackintosh, and to bury my face in it. Absolutely marvellous. The smell, and touch, had me, in seventh heaven. But the cherry on the cake, was, she was happy. She was over the moon too, in the fact that someone cared about her. I didn’t know where this was going, and I didn’t care, because I had found happiness too.
Onward, Hitcher. (The Hitcher, Part two)
Stories and fantasies about gay encounters in rainwear
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1 post • Page 1 of 1