nothing to either side of the road but pine trees for as far as the eye could see. I had managed to work my way into the far right-hand lane when traffic started to jam up, so I figured I could just ease it over into the emergency lane and take a little stroll into the woods if it came to that. But then I figured I would lose my place in line, and god only knew if anyone would ever let me back over.

Scanning the rear-view, I noticed behind me a little old lady in a Buick and in front of me was a white work van with enclosed rear windows. To my left, of course, was our good buddy Earl’s rig. My thoughts turned back to the empty bottles in the floorboard. The only person around me who was even within range to notice was the truck driver beside me, and to be honest, I didn’t really care if some Tennessee trucker saw me pissing in a bottle. It’s not like I was ever coming back to this godforsaken town anyway.

Fumbling once more in the passenger seat floorboard I found an empty wide-mouthed chocolate-and-banana flavored Yoo-Hoo bottle. What could I say? Whenever on a road trip I always get a hankering for Yoo-Hoos and Slim Jims. And dammit, I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Twisting off the bottle’s cap, I gave one more quick look around just to make sure I hadn’t missed anyone who might catch me relieving myself. I was in a convertible, after all. But I didn’t notice anyone, so I went ahead and undid the drawstring on the grey jogging shorts I’d decided to wear for the long drive and edged down the waistband to free my dick. Easing the bottle down between my legs, I nestled the tip of my cock into its rim and tried to relax myself.
Sweeeeeehhhh Swooooooohhhh!

The sound shattered my concentration. I snatched my waistband back up immediately and turned toward the source of the shrieking noise. And there was Earl, stretched across the cab of his truck, whistling at me. When our eyes met, he blew me a quick little kiss. At first I was embarrassed, and - to turn a bad pun - pretty pissed off. But then I realized that Earl’s whistling wasn’t done in a mocking fashion. He just kept staring at me, eyeing me down. I suppose those stories about truckers meeting up at rest stops must have some truth to them after all, because my new friend Earl was most assuredly enamored with me.

At first I was a bit remised by the whole scenario. Earl isn’t the sort of guy you write home about. He was a grisly, hairy, overweight bear of man with leathered skin and a crooked grin. Atop his balding head a sweat-stained navy blue ball cap hugged his scalp.

But still, I was stuck in traffic with absolutely nothing to do. Why not kill a little time? Give poor Earl a little show to help ease his boredom as well.

With our eyes still locked, and me still holding the Yoo-Hoo bottle between my legs under the steering wheel, I slowly eased the waistband of my shorts back down until my soft dick plopped free. Earl disappeared for a moment and I thought that maybe I had taken things a little too far. Inside the cabin of his truck I heard a clicking sound, and then a rustling. And in a moment he reappeared sliding across the seat